Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 03 - Murder in the Mangroves by Marty Ambrose

didn’t know her place. My poor sister always wanted
more. And she tried to mix with gringos who always looked
down on her no matter what she did.”
    Mama Maria bristled. “That’s not true”
    “Of course it is, Mama. Oh, they’d come in here and tell you
how bonito your daughter is, but our worlds are separate. Gina
was the only person who didn’t know that…
    “But I thought she was engaged to Brett Palmer,” I said.
    Rivas gave an exclamation of disgust. “They never would’ve
married. His family didn’t accept her. And now they’ve killed
her.”
    “Rivas!” Mama Maria placed both hands on her hips. “Silencio. You are talking like a fool.”
    “Am I?” He yanked a hand through his tousled hair.
    “Did anyone from her fiance’s family make threatening
remarks to Gina?” I inquired.
    Rivas shook his head. “They didn’t have to. I could see the
hatred in their eyes. Especially the parents. They went along
with the engagement, but they were always plotting to split
them up” He spat on the glass-strewn floor. “Now that my sister is permanently out of the picture, they’re probably throwing a fiesta”
    “Get a hold of yourself,” Mama Maria demanded.
    “But-“
    “And give me that water gun-it looks too real. Someone
could mistake it and think you were dangerous, not just foolishcomprende?” Her voice grew strong, and she straightened her shoulders. “I’ve already lost one child. Do you think I want to
lose another one because you let that temper of yours lead you
into doing something even more loco?”

    I held my breath, not sure which one would give in first.
Finally, Rivas shuffled toward his mother and gave her the
water gun.
    I let out a long sigh of relief. Even though it was fake, it still
unnerved me.
    “Son, promise me that you won’t do or say anything until
we know how Gina died,” Mama Maria said.
    Rivas touched two fingers to his heart, then held them up.
“I swear.”
    “And no more guns.”
    IISi.”
    Mama Maria slipped the phony firearm into her dress
pocket. “Now that that’s taken care of, I can mourn my daughter without worrying myself sick over my son”
    Rivas muttered a Spanish expletive and slammed out of the
room.
    “I’m sorry you had to see that, but my son is … grieving.”
Mama Maria opened a cupboard and deposited the water gun
into a large ceramic bowl.
    “Grief can make people do crazy things. I know when my
Aunt Phoebe, on my father’s side, choked to death on a chicken
bone, my cousins couldn’t even look at any type of poultry for
years. I think they’ve relented and have turkey on Thanksgiving
now, but it’s the boneless frozen roast that looks like a lump of
processed goop in a tinfoil pan” Okay, so I was at it again. This
whole intense scene was causing my motormouth to lock into
high gear. And I was talking nonsense, to boot. Oh, joy. Just
what Mama Maria needed right now. A blabbing idiot. “Of
course, there’s nothing wrong with chicken…. I wasn’t trying
to impugn your chicken fajitas.”

    Surprisingly, Mama Maria just stared at me-then she gave
a short laugh. “Lily always said you could talk the scales off of
a pescado-fish. I didn’t know what she meant-until now.”
    “I think it’s genetic-like a harelip or something.”
    “Not nearly so bad.” She shrugged. “I needed a moment
of … lightness.”
    “If there’s anything I can do to help you, please let me
know.” I gave her one of my Observer business cards. The
woman was suffering, and I just couldn’t press her for details
about her daughter right now. “I’d like to drop by later this
week and get some information about Gina for the newspaper,
if that’s okay.”
    “You mean her obituary?”
    I gulped. “Yes”
    “Come manana” Mama Maria stood there for a few moments, reviewing the mess she’d created in the kitchen. “I’ve
got to clean up now-I guess I, too, went a little loco. But
breaking glasses