It felt like home.
Through the office’s large glass windows, I saw my boss, Rhonda, on the telephone. It was a familiar sight. As park supervisor, she handled most of the managerial tasks. That suited me fine. I wasn’t cut out to be anybody’s boss. And I’d wither up and die if I had to spend as much time in the office as Rhonda did, even with the nice view from our big windows.
Inside, I caught her eye and waved as I dropped my purse onto my desk, next to the dried-out shell of a gopher tortoise. Rhonda made the yak-yak sign at the phone, and mimed a big yawn. My boss was a stunner, even with her mouth gaping open. A former New York model who returned home to take care of her ailing mother, she looked like she could step back onto the runway at any moment. She was the only parks employee I knew who rocked the ugly, olive drab uniforms we had to wear.
“Right, that sounds like a perfect action plan.’’ She was wrapping up on the phone. “Send me a memo with the talking points. I’ll take it up at the budget meeting.’’
There were any number of phrases in that sentence I hoped never to have to utter. Not for the first time, I gave silent thanks for Rhonda’s efficiency and people skills. She handled schedules, budgets, and meetings with our higher-ups; I did nature discussions and cared for the critters that wound up in our makeshift zoo and rehab center.
The coffee machine in the corner gurgled. The freshly brewed scent of Colombian roast told me Rhonda had just made a pot. I helped myself. Returning with my cup, I cleared a spot on my desk between a stuffed swallow-tailed kite and a package of brochures on Florida’s poisonous snakes.
The moment she hung up, Rhonda turned to me. Compassion warmed her brown eyes. “I heard about the librarian. How horrible!’’
“Yeah, it’s going to be tough for her sister. She’s been notified to come down as Camilla’s next-of-kin.’’
Her eyes searched my face. “How are you?’’
“Me? I’m fine. I’m not the one somebody strangled and left at the dump.’’
“But, Mace, it has to take a toll. This is the fifth body you’ve found.’’
“Fourth. Mama was on her own when she discovered that first murder victim in the trunk of her convertible at the Dairy Queen.’’
“I remember. That was when Carlos tossed your mama in the slammer.’’
“Occasionally I wonder why we worked so hard to get her out.’’
Rhonda tsked me.
“Seriously, though, that seemed like the start of a string of bad things happening in little Himmarshee,’’ I said.
“Well, at least one good thing happened.’’ Rhonda’s face, the color of rich mahogany, glowed with a smile. “How is your hunky detective anyway? Still as steamy hot as a cup of café Cubano? You better grab that man while the grabbing is good. He’s asked you to marry him; he’s not going to wait forever, you know.’’
Just as I was about to gripe about how oddly obsessed everyone was with my love life, my desk phone rang. Saved by the bell.
“Speak of the devil,’’ I said, when I heard Carlos on the line.
“Speaking well of me, I hope,’’ he said. “Tell Rhonda hello.’’
When I did, she made a noisy smack-smack sound and blew a big kiss toward the phone. Carlos chuckled. “I love that girl!’’
“Hey!’’
“Not like I love you, niña.’’
“Uh-huh,’’ I said, stealing a glance at Rhonda. “Anything new on the murder?’’
“Can’t a guy call his girl without being grilled about work?’’
“Just curious,’’ I said.
“We’re looking into her background. Nothing I’m prepared to talk about.’’ His end of the phone was quiet for a moment. “I do, you know. Love you.’’
Rhonda was busy re-stacking the stacks of paperwork on her desk, but I could see her head cocked my way, her right ear tuned in to my conversation.
“Uh-huh,’’ I finally answered. “Back at ya.’’
He laughed. “I pour out my heart. I get ‘back at ya.’ You can do better than that.’’
I swiveled my desk chair so my back was to my boss, ducked my head into my chest and mumbled into the phone, “Love you, too. I’ll see you tonight.’’
As I put the phone down, I could feel Rhonda’s eyes on the back of my head. I turned, and she didn’t even try to pretend she hadn’t been eavesdropping. A big, silly smile was pasted on her lips. The more she grinned, the more I felt a blush spreading up my neck and onto my cheeks.
“What?’’ I demanded.
“Nothing,’’ she said.
“Have your say, boss. Everyone else has.’’
To my surprise she started humming. Then she started singing. “Mace and Carlos sitting in a tree, K I S S—I N G … ’
I flashed on third-grade and the jungle gym. I’d climbed past all the boys to the top. Danny Blue screwed up his courage to follow me and steal a kiss. The other little girls watched from the ground, chiming in to sing that same song.
“Seriously? How old are you again, boss?’’
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. You’re so close-mouthed and private about everything. You make an easy target. Didn’t your mama teach you that people who hate to be teased are the people everybody loves to tease?’’
I relented, and returned Rhonda’s grin. If the bulls-eye fits, may as well wear it.
“So, have you lovebirds set a date? When’s the wedding?’’
“That’s a popular question,’’ I said. “There’s no rush.’’
“There is if you want children.’’ Rhonda’s voice lost its teasing tone. “You’re not getting any younger.’’
“Thanks for the reminder.’’
“I’m serious.’’
“We’ve only been engaged a few months. We’ve got plenty of time.’’
“That’s what people always say, until they run out of time.’’
_____
“Who’s hungry?’’
Claws skittered. Wood shavings rustled. Pepé Le Pew put a paw to his food dish, banging it against the floor of his enclosure. “Whoa, Pepé my man! Didn’t anyone ever tell you patience is a virtue?’’
The skunk was a permanent resident. His moronic former owner had him de-scented, and then left him to fend for himself in the wild without his only natural means of defense. I’d been called out to capture him by a newcomer who objected to having her garden parties crashed by a skunk. If you asked me, some of her over-perfumed guests smelled much worse than Pepé.
I would have rather released him into the woods. Without his scent, though, the skunk was safer with the other injured, abused, or unwanted critters we kept at Himmarshee Park.
Once the inside inhabitants were taken care of, I went outside to the pond to feed Ollie.
A cool rush of air hit me in the face, blowing my hair off my neck. Suddenly, the leaves high in the trees started shaking. The sky had blackened. Big, angry-looking clouds scudded over the park, blowing toward us from Lake Okeechobee to our south. The temperature dropped by at least ten degrees. The sudden chill raised goose bumps on my sweaty flesh.
“Storm’s coming, Ollie.’’
The gator swam toward me, powerful tail propelling him through the water. His jaws gaped, as he regarded me with his one good eye. Lightning flashed, zigzagging across the dark sky. Maybe it was the threatening weather, or the lightning reflecting off those acres of teeth, but something made me think of the close call Mama and I had survived with Ollie, at this very pond.
I stepped back from the wall. Turned to look behind me. Dark shadows filled the woods. The gnarled branches of old oaks seemed
to reach toward me, like the grasping fingers of malevolent giants. A shiver started at my neck and traced a trail all the way down my spine.
I held out my hand. The barest tremble betrayed an uncommon onset of nerves. “Look at me, Ollie. Spooked by a little foul weather.’’