Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 02 - Island Intrigue Read Free Page B

size, she liked to hedge
her bets and be able to return items at a moment’s notice.
Personally, it struck me as borderline unethical, but she’d
lost over twenty pounds in the last year, and I didn’t want
to discourage her.
    “Of course, Anita didn’t waste any time. She got a
painter over here pronto and let me pick out the color. I
decided on this one ‘cause one of my New-Age magazines said the sea is restful, serene. Just the kind of background to counteract the high energy of a newspaper.”
    “Good idea.” High energy? This was a three-woman
operation, for goodness’ sake (and Anita barely counted
as female). But I had to admit that anything would be
an improvement to our shabby workplace. Dulled yellow
linoleum graced our floor, two wooden desks, back-toback, served as our workstations, and a single fluorescent
light hummed above our heads.
    Being a weekly paper with limited circulation, the Observer didn’t pull in big advertising dollars, needless
to say. Whiteside’s General Store at Mango Bay was our
largest client, and considering the fact that their establishment wasn’t much bigger than a convenience store,
they didn’t spend big bucks promoting their two-forone toothpaste specials.

    In even worse condition than the main area was Anita’s
space, a glass-enclosed cubicle. As editor of the paper,
she possessed the only office-a ten-by-ten cubbyhole
that barely provided space for a desk and a couple of
chairs. Most of the time she sat in there obsessively
checking wire services and hoping for hot-breaking island news that rarely happened.
    “What does Anita think of the color?” I asked.
    Sandy shrugged. “She hates it, but she hates everything, so I guess that means it’s okay”
    Made sense to me.
    “Hey, kiddo.” Speak of the devil. Anita appeared in
the doorway of her office. “Did you cover the Town
Hall meeting last night?” The only person I knew who
could do this, she blew her nicotine gum into a bubble,
then burst it with a loud smack. Charming.
    I nodded. “Big doings, let me tell you. It took them
two hours to agree to buy the swing set and picnic tables. Then Old Man Brisbee pinched my cheek againand I don’t mean my face”
    “Don’t tell me…. He’s still using that cataract excuse?”
    “Macular degeneration.”

    She grunted in disgust. “Brisbee has been using that
one for years. The old fool just likes pinching women’s
rear ends. He tried it on me years ago, and I grabbed his
arse right back”
    “Next time I see him, I’ll make sure my butt is nowhere
in his vicinity.”
    “Good idea.” She eyed the painter for a few seconds,
and her mouth tightened, causing the multitude of vertical smoker’s lines to deepen. I couldn’t tell whether she
was smiling or grimacing. “What do you think of our decorating job? Benton decided to pump some money into
fixing up our office, so I jumped on it before he changed
his mind. Of course the only thing that really counts is
putting out a good paper.”
    “True, but the place does look kinda grungy. And
bluish green is a nice color,” I pointed out.
    “I guess-if you’re into that kind of crap. The smell
alone is enough to make me gag.”
    I blinked in amazement. Was it possible that her sense
of smell was still intact after daily sessions of breathing
in nothing but heavy-duty, lung-scarring tobacco smoke?
    “Write that Town Hall story-and the Autumn Festival piece you’re covering today. I’ll need to check ‘em
both over before Friday’s deadline.” She cleared her
throat. “This damn gum isn’t doing anything-I’d walk
across a beach of broken seashells for a cigarette right
now.”
    A tiny pang of sympathy nagged at me. “Maybe you
could try the nicotine patch”

    She muttered an expletive and retreated into her office, slamming shut the door.
    I raised my eyes to the ceiling and groaned to Sandy,
“I’m sorry about her cigarette cravings, but I can’t