Free Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 01 - Peril in Paradise by Marty Ambrose Page A

the type. They’re all sugar sweet
over the phone, but when they drop by and see I’m a
large gal, they simply pretend I’m not here. Like I’m
some kind of piece of furniture or something.”
    “I … I’m sorry,” I said. Chalk up another black mark
against Jack. So far he had two white marks and a slew
of black ones. “Sandy, you know I don’t feel that way
about you”
    “I know.” She rearranged the blue ceramic bracelets
on her wrist. “In spite of Hillman’s `good works,’ I
wasn’t exactly heartbroken to hear that he’d been
killed.”
    “Welcome to the island club,” I muttered.
    “Not that I’d do him in, of course. I’ve dealt with my
anger through focused imagery-a technique I read
about in one of my self-help books. But I’m telling
you, it was incredibly tough to work my way through all
the negative emotion that man aroused-I had to use candles, incense, tapes and my special quartz crystal.
The works.” She spread her arms expansively.

    “I’m glad that you were able to … uh … let it go”
    “Me too. Speaking of which… ” She reached for
her iPod. “I’ve got to do my morning affirmations”
    “Serenity now!” I gave her a peace sign.
    She donned the earphones and closed her eyes. In
a few minutes, her face took on a peaceful, calm expression. I eyed her with renewed respect-not simply
for her ability to sink into a relaxed state amidst a
cramped, noisy office, but because she was able to
overcome her dislike for a man that half the island
probably would’ve liked to feed to the sharks.
    I reread the section in the Herald article about Hillman’s “Little Brother” and jotted down his grandmother’s name. I called Miami information and got a
phone number so I could call her later for an interview.
Then I made a mental note to visit Bradley and discuss
the museum donations.
    Intrigued, I realized the “truth” about Jack was taking on interesting and unexpected dimensions.
    The door to the office suddenly flung open and I
jumped in my chair.
    “What did I tell you about interfering with my investigation?” Detective Billie demanded as he slammed
the door shut, his dark face set in a mask of cold fury.
    “Huh?”
    “I just spent an hour on the phone with Everett Jacobs.
He said you were nosing around Hillman’s house and badgering him with questions.” Detective Billie strode
toward my desk.

    “That’s not true.” I stood up to meet him when he got
there. It didn’t help much, though. He was still almost a
head taller than me and … intimidating to say the least
when his eyes blazed down from that impressive
height.
    “Did you or did you not snoop around Hillman’s
house?”
    “Not. I know better than to cross the yellow tape”
    “What about badgering Everett?”
    I glanced over at Sandy for support, but she had her
back to us with her iPod still running. “I asked him
some questions-that’s all. I certainly didn’t `badger’
him or anything like that. He was the one who
volunteered information-told me all about Mabel and
how Jack had driven her to distraction. Granted, he was
sort of grouchy at first, but he gradually warmed upespecially when I showed some sympathy for the Mabel situation. Although if you ask me, he’s your number
one suspect. He hated Hillman-“
    “Could you please stick to the subject?”
    “I’m trying to” Could I help it my motor mouth was
stuck in high gear every time Detective Billie appeared?
“Anyway, Everett even took me for a tour of the shell
mounds. Would he have done that if I was making a
nuisance of myself?”
    “Possibly.”
    “Well, I guess you’ll just have to decide who’s telling the truth. The island curmudgeon or me.” I folded my
arms across my chest and matched him glare for glare.

    The muscle in his jaw began working overtime as he digested my words. I decided to press my advantage.
    “From what Anita tells me, Everett is a cantankerous
old man who