Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 02 - Island Intrigue (13 page)

“Does Anita know about this?” I asked in desperation.
When in doubt, evoke Anita’s name-it was always guaranteed to dampen any group’s optimism.

“She sure does”

I didn’t need to turn around. I knew that gravelly
voice only too well. She motioned at me with her bony
fingers.

Silently I trudged into my boss’ office.

Once Anita shut the door, I turned to her. “You’ve got
to be kidding. You actually want me to haul around that
pseudo-psychic?”

“Sure do” She seated herself at her desk and folded
her arms.

“Why?”

“Look, kiddo. I don’t believe she’s psychic any more
than the man in moon, but people talk to her. They tell
her things they wouldn’t tell their own mothers. And
somewhere in all that touchy-feely garbage could be a
gem of truth-maybe even the reason Tom Crawford
was killed.”

“How did you find out he was murdered?”

“I never reveal a source.” She smiled. I swallowed
hard. In spite of her trying to cut out the cigarettes, after twenty years of chain smoking, her teeth weren’t a
pretty sight.

“Take Madame Geri with you for a couple of days.
See if she can dig up any gossip. If nothing turns up,
dump her. And don’t forget, I gotta have the initial story
about Kevin’s rescue and his father’s possible homicide
by the end of the day. Keep your eye on the ball,
kiddo.” Anita waved me out of her office. Sentimental,
she wasn’t.

I exited, closing the door with a distinct thud to let
her know I wasn’t happy with the prospect of babysitting a New Age quack. I heard a short bark of laughter
in response. I gritted my teeth. There was no use fighting it; once Anita made up her mind, I had to do it.

“Looks like it’s you and me, Madame Geri.” I moved
toward my desk.

“And Marley” She stroked the turquoise feathers of
her beady-eyed bird.

“No way. No birds in my truck.” I dug around in my
drawer until I found an unused notepad.

Marley squawked, and I jumped back, dropping the
pad. “Well … maybe he can ride along, but don’t let
him do anything weird.”

She pursed her mouth. “My bird is well trained. He
does only what I tell him to do”

“Oh” I made a mental note not to anger Madame
Geri. I didn’t want Marley pecking out my eyes before
lunchtime.

“I want to see Tom’s boat” Madame Geri stood up,
clutching her leather bag to her chest. Then she tottered
toward the door, with Marley firmly fixed on his perch,
and I wondered if his claws were digging into her shoulders. Ouch.

“Let’s get a move on. Time’s a wastin’.” Madame
Geri used her hip to nudge open the door.

I leveled my own version of a beady-eyed glance in
Sandy’s direction. She gave a sheepish shrug. Surrendering to the inevitable, I vowed to take revenge on Sandy later by cutting off the price tags from the next
outfit she wore into the office.

I led Madame Geri to my truck, keeping a healthy
distance between Marley and me.

“Nice set of wheels,” she commented as she climbed
into the passenger seat. Marley tucked his head under a
wing and shifted to the other shoulder so she could fasten the seat belt.

Oh, goody. Now he was on my side. He’d have quick
access if he wanted to peck out my eyes.

I slid into the driver’s seat, leaning as far to the left
as I could without actually hanging out the window. I
cranked up the engine and backed out of the parking
lot, aware of every feather movement.

“Look, Madame Geri, I think you and I should put
our cards on the table-and I don’t mean Tarot” I
pressed down the gas pedal, causing Rusty to peak at
his top speed of 50mph and, with it, my motormouth
kicked into gear. “I don’t believe in psychics. I worked
for a so-called psychic hotline for a while, and I know
what goes on there. The whole purpose of my job was
to keep people talking so they’d rack up a lot of minutes. The longer they were on the phone, the more
money the company made. I never met a single person
at the hotline who could predict the future-including
me. The only thing we knew for sure was that we’d be
fired if we didn’t make a certain quota every day. I’m
not proud of what I did. All I can say is, I was be tween jobs and needed the money….” The story of my
life.

“Did you hurt anybody?”

“I guess not.”

“Then what was the harm?”

I thought for a few seconds. “I pretended to be something I wasn’t. Tried to convince people to confide in
me so I could make money off them.”

“Bah.” She shrugged. “They knew you weren’t a psychic. They wanted an ear to listen to them. And you fit
the bill. Everyone ended up with what they wanted”

“You sound more like a pragmatist than a psychic.”

“Same thing. I see the world as it is, not the way people want it to be. That’s psychic and practical.”

“So you don’t just tell people what they want to
hear?” Hah. Answer that with a straight face.

She shook her head. “The spirit world would never
let me. And it doesn’t pay to anger the spirits.”

“What would they do? Flip on your TV in the middle
of the night?”

Her fingers tapped my arm, and she nodded knowingly. “‘There’s more in heaven and earth than you’ve
ever dreamed of’ …Shakespeare. Your favorite
poet.”

“Good guess.” How in the world did she know that?
“Sandy must’ve told you I was a comparative literature
major in a previous life.”

“No. She didn’t.” Madame Geri closed her eyes and
leaned back against the tattered headrest. “Believing in something greater than yourself scares you, but your
fears make you foolish. Your task in this life is to deepen
your spirituality … connect on the soul level. But you’ll
only do it if you stop-“

“And smell the roses?” I cut in, refusing to hear any
more of her half-baked predictions. They were nutty,
off-the-wall and, all of a sudden, way too close to the
truth. “I’m not interested in your psychobabble.”

“Suit yourself.” Her eyelids rose once more. “But if
you want a Tarot reading sometime, I’ll fill you in on
what you need to know”

“Thanks-I may take you up on that offer sometime.” When hell freezes over.

Speaking of freezing … I cranked up Rusty’s heater.
We rode the rest of the way in silence punctuated
only by periodic squawks from Marley when he spotted other birds outside the truck. The sounds reverberated through Rusty’s small cab, and I was ready to toss
him and Madame Geri out the door by the time we
reached the Trade Winds Marina.

“Here we are” I parked by the docks. Marley emitted
another eardrum-piercing squawk when he spied the
pelicans, and I jumped out of Rusty before he had a
chance to damage my hearing any further.

“Hey, Mallie!” someone shouted.

I turned toward the office and saw Pete Cresswell
striding toward me.

“Have you recovered from your boat trip?” he asked
as he grinned and engulfed me in a bear hug.

“Almost.”

“What’s up?”

“You not going to believe this, but I got stuck with
the island psychic as a sidekick.” I scanned the docks.
“Where’s Tom’s boat? I need to look at it.”

“I guess it would be okay. Nick Billie already had it
checked out early this morning as a crime scene and
removed the yellow tape” He frowned. “Sad to think
somebody killed Tom”

At that point, Madame Geri made an appearance,
sans Marley, her heels tapping a staccato beat on the
wooden docks.

“Madame Geri,” Pete said, a note of awe touching his
voice, as if he’d acknowledged royalty. “It’s an honor.”

“Not you too?” I murmured under my breath.

“We need to see the boat, please.” Madame Geri spoke
in a regal tone.

Pete offered his arm and escorted her down the
docks.

I trailed behind them, mumbling to myself.

When we reached the small, run-down fishing boat,
Madame Geri released Pete’s arm and paced back and
forth in front of the vessel. What is that supposed to do?

“How in the world were you able to persuade Madame
Geri to work with you?” Pete asked.

I grimaced. “Made her an offer she couldn’t refuse?”

Pete flashed a warning glance in my direction.
“Madame Geri knows her stuff. If anyone can find out
what happened to Tom, she can”

“Oh, please,” I moaned. “What hold does this woman
have over the island?”

“We respect her. She’s a true psychic.”

“So everybody keeps telling me” I watched as
Madame Geri reached into her leather bag and pulled
out a crystal on a string. “Got any ideas on who might’ve
killed Tom?”

“I can’t say for sure … all I’ve heard is gossip. But
some of the guys around the docks said Sally Jo was
seeing somebody on the side.”

“You know who?”

“Nope. But you might stop by the Seafood Shanty
and talk to Nora. She might know”

“Okay. We’ll head over there for lunch after we wrap
it up here.” I pulled out my Official Reporter’s Notepad. “What about Jake Fowler? I heard he hated Tom
because their clam farm went belly up.”

Pete nodded. “Jake sure was sore about that … but
I don’t know if he was mad enough to kill Tom”

“When I met Jake at the elementary school with his
son, he seemed to have quite a temper.”

“Guess so. But Tom was no angel, either-especially
when he’d had too many beers”

“According to Wanda Sue, he was on the wagon,” I
informed him. “You know where I can find Jake?”

Pete looked over his left shoulder at the large boats
docked near the marina office. “His shrimp boat is in….
He might be at the Seafood Shanty for lunch. A lot of the
fishermen hang out there. Again-check with Nora”

“Gotcha” I jotted down a few notes and tossed the
pad into my canvas bag.

Madame Geri began chanting and waving the crystal.

“May I go aboard?” I asked.

“Sure” Pete helped me onto the boat. Once there, I
strolled toward the open deck in the back. The bow?
Stern? I forgot. Whatever it was called, I nosed around
it. Surprisingly, for such an aging vessel, it was clean
and orderly. The fishing nets rested neatly stacked on
one side. Two pairs of “island Reeboks” were aligned
behind the captain’s chair. Tackle boxes were open, but
lures and hooks had been placed with care in their appropriate sections. One thing was certain-Tom kept a
tidy boat.

I peered into the small cabin. Nothing much there,
either. Just a few Styrofoam cups on the counter and a
coffeepot, still holding remnants of a previously made
brew.

Nothing out of the ordinary to suggest that a struggle
had taken place on the boat.

All at once Madame Geri let out a loud scream.

What now?

I dashed to the back of the boat and beheld Madame
Geri, standing on the dock with her eyes closed and features contorted in pain, yelling at the top of her lungs.

“What’s happening? Are you all right?” I hopped off
the boat and raced to where she stood.

“I see water … death!” she wailed.

So tell me something I don’t know. “Please. Quiet
down. They’re going to call the police if you keep this
up.

Actually, the fishermen at their nets had offered a
flicker of interest, then returned to their work.

They obviously knew Madame Geri.

She lowered her volume to a soft moan.

“What did you see?” I asked.

“Water … panic … loss. His entire life passed through his mind the last few moments. He didn’t want
to lose his son, his wife. It was all gone. All
over.. She shuddered and moaned, her head swaying back and
forth.

“Can you take it back a little further in time? How
did he end up in the water?”

Madame Geri peeped open one eye. “Don’t rush the
spirits. They’ll give me information when they’re good
and ready.” The eye snapped shut again.

I gritted my teeth and waited.

She dropped her chin to her chest and chanted a few
unintelligible words. “A sharp pain. Yes, a pain in the
back of the head. It hurt so much. The world exploded
in a shower of colors…” She winced as though in pain.
“Why?”

“That’s the million-dollar question,” I murmured under my breath. Okay, so Madame Geri’s contacts were
disembodied spirits, but did they have to be so obtuse?
“Could you ask them who hit Tom on the head?”

“Nope” She shook herself and opened her eyes.
“That’s all for today”

“The spirit world seems a bit capricious,” I said.

“They live in a different dimension, governed by different rules. We can’t pretend to understand their intent.”

“If you say so” And with Madame Geri as their sole
contact with the human world, I probably had very little chance of learning anything that would help me
solve Tom’s murder. “I checked out the boat but didn’t
find-“

She clucked her tongue and brushed past me. Craning
her neck over the side of the boat, she scanned the
deck. “What’s that?”

I followed her pointed finger. Wedged in a corner,
half covered by an ice chest, was a brightly colored fishing fly. I jumped back onto the boat and retrieved it. “It’s
odd … sort of a fishlike shape attached to a hook”