Free Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 04 - Killer Kool by Marty Ambrose

tight-lipped mouth. The picture of
anxiety.
    “I saw Kyle in the Little Tuscany kitchen this morning.
He used to work for Mr. Santini in the restaurant, but he
doesn’t anymore. So he had no business being there.”
Guido shook his head. “Then Mr. Santini died, and no
one knows why.”
    My interest perked. “Why did Kyle leave his job at
the restaurant?”
    “Mr. Santini fired him.”
    The perk had started to simmer. “Really? Why?”
    “I think he was caught stealing money from the cash
register, but I don’t know for sure.”
    “So Kyle might be a thief, but that doesn’t mean he’s
a killer,” I pointed out, the perk reaching a boiling point
of curiosity.

    “He also said mean things to Beatrice.” Guido’s mouth
thinned in anger. “No one talks bad to my bella Beatricenot even her father. He wasn’t always nice to his own
daughter.”
    “Young love … isn’t it wonderful?” Pop Pop commented with a benign smile.
    “Lovely,” I echoed, checking on Guido again. A
flicker of rage passed across his features, but then he
got control of himself and resumed his normal nice-guy
persona. Could he have done something bad to Carlos
to protect Beatrice? He was obviously head-overheels, smitten-to-the-core in love with the girl. And, if
she had been upset over her father’s treatment, maybe
Guido had decided to take matters into his own hands
and eliminate the problem.
    Was it possible?
    I gave myself a mental shake, realizing that the events
of the day must have skewed all my common sense. Guido
was nothing more than a guy in love who’d seen his girl
collapse in grief as her father died in front of her eyes.
That’s all. And that was enough.
    I couldn’t take much more myself. The last twenty-four
hours had included a dire prophecy, an agonizing death,
and dashed dreams of actually having two men vie for
my affections. Not to mention that I’d reached a new low
of having a rebound dinner date with a man on oxygen.
    I needed my Airstream, my teacup poodle, and a good
night’s sleep. Things would look better tomorrow in the
a.m.

    “Oops. My dentures just fell out,” Pop Pop pronounced.
    Great.
    The morning seemed a long way off.
    It had turned dark by the time we dropped off Guido and
made our way back to the Twin Palms RV park. When
we arrived, I had to get a flashlight to locate Pop Pop’s
missing false teeth, which had rolled under the seat. Yuck.
    Ready to tear out my curls, I finally deposited him, his
dentures, and his oxygen tank at his cottage and revved
off to my Airstream.
    Needless to say, it wasn’t exactly the end I’d imagined
to my big date night. My spirits sank lower than a gator
in the mud, to quote Wanda Sue. And it was nothing
more than I deserved for trying to be a dating diva.
    Sigh. I parked in front of my Airstream and took in
the blue-and-white striped awning flapping in the light
evening breeze coming off the Gulf.
    Ah. Home, sweet home.
    I could hear Kong barking in excitement as I turned off
my engine, and despite my fatigue, a little glow lit inside
me. At least my dog still provided unconditional love,
constant attention, and ankle licking whenever I needed a
boost. As I unlocked the door, Kong came bounding out,
and I scooped him up in my arms. I allowed myself to
revel in his adoration for a few moments before I grabbed
his leash and made for the surf.
    After a long stroll along the beach, I headed back to
my Airstream, its shiny hull bathed in the moonlight. Cole’s van remained parked on one side, though his bicycle was gone, so I assumed he was riding in the dark,
trying to forget my two-timing behavior. Couldn’t say
that I blamed him.

    My glance trailed to the other side of my RV, and, just
as had happened earlier today, I thought I saw the outline of another Airstream. A light glowed from the inside, but the shades were drawn.
    I squinted in the dim light, trying to focus my eyes
more clearly. Then I blinked,