3 Mango Bay (7 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

“
Lucy, for most of my life, I've worked. Either at a job, or in the military. I didn't take vacations, didn't take sick days, just showed up and worked.

“
Then about a year ago, the company I worked for decided to move operations to Mexico and laid off six hundred people, including me.

“
My wife had just filed for divorce. Said she was doing me a favor. Giving me a chance to do something else with my life.

“
We didn't have any kids, so we split things right down the middle. She got the house. And I needed a place to stay so I bought and moved into the motorhome. I drove it to Florida, and have been living in it ever since.

“
I haven't quite figured out what I'm going to do next, but I'm working on it. And if it matters, I'm happy.”

Lucy looked up at me, “So, you're really not an undercover cop?”

“No Lucy. I'm not an undercover cop.”

We walked around the marina for about twenty minutes, until Lucy said, “Okay, that's it for me. It's been a long day, and it's time to go home.”

After driving her back to her house on Harbor Drive, I turned off the motor and reached for my door. My plan was to get out and open her door for her.

But before I could get out, Lucy put her hand on my shoulder. “Wait.
Dinner was nice. We probably ought to do this again. But I'm beat. I'm going inside and going to bed.”

She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, then stepped out and walked to my side of the Jeep. “Yoga, tomorrow morning. Eight o'clock. I'll be knocking on your door.”

Without waiting for my reply, she turned and walked to the front door of her home, unlocked it, and went inside.

Seeing that she was safely in, I started the Jeep and drove back to Serenity Cove.

It had been a nice evening.

Bob was waiting for me at the door. He said, “Muuuuurrph” in his outside voice, then headed straight for his food bowl.

I knew what he wanted.

He had been home alone most of the day, probably sleeping, and when he woke up, I wasn't there. Worse, when he checked his food bowl, he could see that it was almost empty.

To Bob, this meant that starvation was eminent. It didn't matter to him that there was still food in the bowl. It didn't matter that in all the time Bob had been with me, he'd never gone hungry.

What mattered was that if he could see the bottom of his bowl, it meant he'd soon be out of food. And that meant he needed to let me know about it in his sternest voice.

“Muurrrphhh!”

Bob had a vocabulary of about thirty different sounds he'd use to express his feelings. This particular sound meant he wanted me to fill his food bowl. Immediately.

To show Bob I understood, I spoke to him. He likes it when you respond when he speaks to you.

“
It's okay Bob. You're not going to starve. There's still food in your bowl, but I'll put some more in. Would you like that?”

Bob responded. “Muurrph.” His almost happy voice.

While Bob watched, I topped off his food bowl with fresh kibble.

He sniffed the bowl, and then without taking a single bite, he strolled off, proud that he was able to get me to do for him. As he understood it, I was there as his man-servant, to handle his every wish.

And of course, he was right. All cats understand that this is how it works.

After washing my hands, I found Bob on the couch in the living room. He saw me come in and said, “Murrph?” - as if he were asking, “And where have you been today?”

Since he'd asked, I felt obliged to tell him the story.

“
Bob, I went out to dinner at Zekes with Lucy. You'll probably meet her tomorrow, and I think you'll like her.

“
We had shrimp, then watched the boats in the bay. Then I came home to see you.”

Bob said, “Murrph”.

Then he curled up beside me and purred as I rubbed his big ears. We stayed that way for almost an hour, Bob sleeping and me trying not to.

At around eleven, I locked up, turned off all the lights and went to bed.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

It was still dark outside when my phone chimed me awake. I rolled over and picked up the phone off the night stand. The time showed 12:43. Just after midnight.

Too early for Lucy to be calling about yoga.

The caller ID said, 'Anna'.

I answered.

“
Anna, what's up.”

In a tired voice she said, “I've got a problem and need a favor.”

“Okay, tell me what you need.”

“
Remember earlier today when I told you I had a date?”

“
Yeah, I remember.”

“
Well, the date isn't working out. We're at Rusty's Raft on Dearborn, and the guy I'm with is hammered. He started drinking before he picked me up and he's been drinking all night.”

“
It got ugly and he got kicked out for picking a fight with the bouncer.

“
I think he's still outside. Waiting for me.

“
I don't want to be around him. He's too drunk to drive. So I need a ride home.”

I sat up, with the phone to my ear.

“Anna, stay inside the club. I'll be there in ten minutes. I'll call you when I pull up to the door. Stay inside until then.”

“
Thanks, Walker. I'll owe you.”

Pulling on the clothes I had worn earlier, I grabbed my keys, wallet, and cellphone, and headed out. Rusty's Raft is on Dearborn street, just a few minutes from Serenity Cove.

This late in the evening, there wasn't much traffic. Almost no one out, so I made good time.

When I arrived at the Raft (as locals call it) their parking lot was half full. I didn't bother pulling in. Instead, I did a quick U-turn and pulled into the loading zone at the front door. Then pressed redial on my phone to reach Anna.

When she answered, I said, “I'm right outside.”

A moment later, Anna stepped through the front entrance of the Raft. She looked around, saw me and headed for the Jeep.

Almost immediately, a man stepped from behind a Palmetto bush and moved toward Anna. His disheveled hair, wrinkled shirt, and the large wet spot on the front of his pants suggested he might be the date Anna was trying to avoid.

I quickly exited the Jeep and stepped between Anna and the obviously drunk man.

“Hey,” he slurred. “She's with
me
.”

Then he took a swing.

People who are drunk should never fight. They almost always have a distorted depth perception, and are usually off balance.

Avoiding the man's swing was easy. I stepped back as his arm went by, then watched as the momentum of the missed swing carried him in an arc that ended with his knees on the ground.

Putting my arm around Anna's shoulder, I walked her to the Jeep, got her inside then closed the door behind her.

I walked back to the drunk. “Give me your car keys.”

He was still on the ground, with a confused look on his face.

I repeated myself, “Give me your car keys.”

The man started crying, but made no effort to give me his keys.

From behind me I heard a deep voice. “Is there a problem here?”

Turning, I saw a muscular man wearing a tight fitting Rusty's Raft t-shirt. Arms on his hips, in a classic defensive position. The bouncer.

I pointed to the man on the ground. “He's too drunk to drive. He got that way inside your place. He's your responsibility now.”

I walked back to the Jeep, got in and drove off.

Before I had driven a mile, Anna reached over and touched my shoulder. “Walker, I feel sick. Pull over.”

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Anna threw up before I could get the Jeep stopped. Fortunately, she had the presence of mind to roll down the window and lean out before letting go.

It wasn't pretty, but it was understandable. Too much to drink, too little to eat, combined with the stressful situation of dealing with an obnoxious drunk.

After she stopped throwing up, I put the Jeep in gear and headed toward Anna's condo on Manasota Key, about five miles away. We were driving south on Indiana Avenue and in the distance I could see the lights were still on at the Shell station. One of the few places still open this late at night.

I pulled in and parked.

“Anna, I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere.”

She mumbled something that sounded like “Mar riiight.”

Inside, I grabbed two bottles of cold water, a package of chocolate chip cookies and put a five dollar bill on the counter. Not waiting for change, I headed back out to the Jeep.

Anna had her head out the window and had just thrown up again.

I got in on the drivers side and handed her a water, “Drink this. All of it. And eat some cookies. It'll make you feel better.”

Turning toward me, she groaned, “I feel bad. Real bad. And I don't want to go home. Take me to your place.”

“Anna, are you sure? You'll sleep better at your condo. In your own bed.”

“
No. I don't want to spend the night alone. I want to sleep at your place. Please.”

She looked miserable. Her skin was pale, her eyes watering, her hands shaking. “Please, take me to your place.”

She was shivering. “I can't feel my legs. They're numb.”

I reached over and touched her arm. She was cold. I could see panic in her eyes.

“Anna, it'll be okay. I'll take you home with me. You can sleep on the couch.”

Anna smiled, then slumped back in her seat. Eyes closed, mouth wide open.

The drive back to Serenity Cove went quickly. No traffic to slow us down.

But I had a bad feeling about Anna's condition. When it came to drinking, she could hold her own. I'd never seen her like this. Passed out. Shivering.

Turning into Serenity Cove, I switched off the Jeep's headlights and coasted to my site. No need to disturb sleeping residents or announce my arrival to those who might still be up this late at night.

Parking in front of my motorhome, I could see there would be a problem getting Anna out of the Jeep, up the stairs and through the front door.

She wasn't heavy, but being passed out, she was about one hundred ten pounds of dead weight.

Opening the passenger door, I unbuckled her seat belt and leaned in close. In a whisper, I said, “Anna, we don't want to wake the neighbors, so keep quiet.”

No response.

I started to reach around to lift her, but realized that if I carried her to the motorhome, I wouldn't be able to unlock the front door without putting her down first.

I released my hold on her, went to the motorhome, unlocked it and went inside. Mango Bob was at the door. Waiting for me. Seeing me hesitate at the open door, he said, “Murrrph?”

He was wondering if I was going to leave the door open for him, giving him an opportunity to go outside and do some night time hunting.

“Sorry Bob, I'm going to have to put you in the bedroom for a few minutes. You'll be okay back there, it'll be fun.”

Bob followed me as I made my way to the back. I sat on the bed and patted the mattress. “Up here Bob. There's something I want to show you.”

Bob looked up, not sure whether this was some kind of trick or not. But his curiosity got the better of him and he jumped on the bed.

I stroked his back twice and he started to purr. I then eased off the bed. “Bob, I'll be right back.”

With Bob safely out of the way, I went back up front and propped open the front door using the baseball bat I kept tucked behind the couch.

Looking out and seeing that Anna hadn't moved, I took a few seconds to fold the couch out into a bed. This is where Anna would be sleeping tonight. From the overhead cabinet, I grabbed a sheet and pillow and tossed them on the couch.

When I went back outside,  Anna was still out cold. Breathing heavily, with drool on her chin.

In a soft voice I said, “Anna, I'm going to carry you up the steps, so don't struggle.”

Reaching under her arms, I pulled her toward me. Her head facing mine. Holding her tightly, I lifted her through the Jeep door.

Because I was taller than Anna by almost six inches, I was able to slip my arms under hers and lift her so that her feet were off the ground. We stood together, as if we were doing a slow sensual dance. My arms around her, her head over my shoulder.

If anyone had been watching, they would have thought we were lovers in a deep embrace.

They would have been wrong.

As we reached the steps leading into the motorhome, I tightened my grip. This got Anna's attention. She hugged me back and said, “Umm, that feels good.”

It would have been funny had the situation been different.

Seeing a porch light come on two trailers down, I quickly carried Anna inside and set her down on the couch. She immediately fell over, head on the pillow, feet on the floor.

She'd be okay like that for a few minutes.

I went back outside and closed and locked the Jeep. Looking around, I didn't see anyone watching. That was good. No telling what they would think about me carrying a passed out woman into my motorhome after midnight.

As soon as I got back inside, I closed and locked the door. Behind me I heard a thump.  Anna had rolled off the couch and was on the floor, snoring.

Remembering that I had locked Bob in the back bedroom, I went and let him out. He quickly ran to the front to see what was going on. While he cautiously sniffed Anna, I went to the bathroom and got a clean wash cloth and ran cold water on it.

After wringing out the excess water, I grabbed the plastic trash can that sat in the corner of the bathroom. If Anna had to throw up again, having this nearby would be handy.

Back up front, Bob was circling Anna. He had met her months before when she'd spent four days sleeping on this same couch while we were camping on the Treasure Coast.

He liked her company and during those four days he had slept beside her every night. I didn't know if he'd be doing that tonight, but if he did, I'm sure she would appreciate it.

Using the damp wash cloth, I cleaned the drool and vomit from Anna's face. And in case she needed it, I put the plastic trash can on the floor nearby.

When I reached under her arms to lift her back onto the couch, she groaned. “Don't bother. I'm awake. I can get in bed by myself. But I need to go to the bathroom first.”

She struggled to her feet, and then wobbled back to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

A few minutes later, she came back up front. Wearing one of my t-shirts. Nothing else except panties.

She wobbled to the couch and sat down. “Walker, I'm not drunk. I only had two glasses of wine tonight, and that was hours ago. With dinner.

“
Nothing else. Except ginger ale.

“
When I called you to come pick me up, I felt fine. After that, I went back to my table and had a few more sips of ginger ale. It tasted funny so I didn't drink much of it. There were other people sitting at the table. People I didn't know, so I left.

“
A few minutes later, just when you showed up, I started feeling strange. My legs and arms were feeling heavy. Almost numb. I couldn't feel my fingers.

“
I couldn't focus my eyes, and my head started spinning. But I wasn't drunk. I didn't throw up alcohol. Just ginger ale.”

She tried to swallow, but couldn't.

“My throat hurts.”

I handed her a bottle of water. “Drink this.”

She took a drink, then spit it out into the plastic trash can I had set near the couch. “That's nasty. Tastes like copper.”

She put the bottle down and began rubbing her legs. “My legs are tingly. Like they've fallen asleep.

Then she laid down on the couch, pillow under her head. “I'm so tired.”

Her eyes closed. And in a few moments, she was breathing heavily, as if in a deep sleep.

I pulled the sheet up over her shoulders. Then sat down in the chair across from the couch and watched as she slept.