Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 02 - Island Intrigue Read Online Free Page A

don’t have all day!” a
gray-haired man with a beard shouted from the car behind me.

    “Oh, jeez, it’s Everett Hall,” I said aloud. The island
curmudgeon. He saved my life a few months ago but
somehow negated that by always making a habit of being cranky to the point of downright obnoxious in my
presence. Coot. I flicked my turn signal and pulled out
onto Cypress Road. He turned the other way before I
could make a rude hand gesture.
    Within a few minutes I stood in the main office of the
Coral Island Elementary School. A bustling place, it was
the preferred school for most of the island kids. A few
people from the ritzy Sea Belle Isle Point area drove their
children into private schools in town, but most Coral Islanders preferred that their kids attend the island school.
Painted a hot shade of mango, the one-story, stuccoed
building hummed with energy and warmth.
    “Hi, Trisha,” I said to the receptionist. She flashed a
wide smile in my direction. With her shoulder-length,
nut brown hair and open features, she looked little older
than most of the kids.
    “Hi yourself” She handed me a steaming cup of
coffee. “Cold enough for you?”
    “I’ll say” I sipped it gratefully. The heat spread
through my body. I sighed in contentment.
    “Sorry all the donuts are gone”
    “Shoot” She’d learned all my weaknesses from the
many times I’d come here to do stories.
    “I think I’ve got a couple of oatmeal cookies in my
purse”
    “Forget it. `A rose by any other name…’”

    “Huh?”
    “Shakespeare said it in his play, Romeo and
Juliet … uh … never mind.” Sometimes my degree in
comparative literature would rear its ugly head, and I’d
feel compelled to make a literary allusion. Usually no
one responded, except with diffidence. Today, you were
lucky if people knew that Dickens wasn’t some kind of
hip-hop band on MySpace. “I’m here to cover the Autumn Festival.”
    “Great. The kids are in the gym wearing overalls and
doing a jump rope marathon.”
    “Oh, joy.”
    Tricia had me sign in and handed me a hall pass.
“Remember, don’t use the kids’ restroom. Adults are
supposed to use the one designated for teachers”
    I rolled my eyes. Last time I visited, I made the mistake of using the little girls’ restroom. A couple of kids
ratted on me, and the repercussions of that faux pas reverberated all the way back to Anita, who gave me a
stern lecture about conducting myself with proper journalistic decorum at all times and in all places. Heck, I
was only trying to use the toilet.
    “Do you know Wanda Sue’s grandson, Kevin?” I
asked.
    “Yeah, Kevin Crawford. Nice kid. Has a buzz cut and
braces”
    “Sounds adorable” I shifted my heavy canvas bag
from one shoulder to the other. “What’s the story with
his parents?”

    “Not much. Father is barely eking out a living as a
fisherman, but that’s pretty much every other guy on
this island. He and Sally Jo, Kevin’s mother, were having domestic problems, and he moved out”
    “I heard from Wanda Sue that they were getting back
together.”
    “Maybe. I don’t know.” She put her elbows on the
desk and propped up her chin with her hands. “Why are
you asking?”
    “Wanda Sue told me last night that Kevin’s dad was
supposed to pick him up from school and take him over
to Sally Jo’s house, but he never showed up”
    “Oh, yeah, I remember now. Sally Jo called around
four o’clock and asked if Kevin’s dad had picked him
up. I checked with Kevin’s teacher, and she said yes”
    “What’s her name?” I pulled out my Official Reporter’s Notepad.
    “Beverly Jennings.”
    I scribbled down her name. “Any other helpful info
on the boy?”
    “Nope. Except that it’s pretty common for an island
fisherman to take his kid out of school for a couple of
days and go on a boating trip.”
    “You think that’s what happened? In this weather?”
    “Dunno”
    “Okay, thanks. See