“Nope, I’m serious. Never was a priority growing up in foster care. Lucky for me, I have strong teeth.”
“My father would get a kick out of that. Then he’d send you straight to one of his offices, where you’d get the works. I can set an appointment up for you. I still own all of the clinics.”
So that was where all of Valentina’s money came from. Some people had all the luck, but then Ali decided having everything one could possibly imagine hadn’t prevented Valentina from losing a family she clearly loved.
“When I settle in, I’ll take you up on your offer.”
“Sounds good, though I hope you don’t think I’m being critical,” Valentina said.
“Not at all, nothing to criticize.”
As soon as the bridge closed, Ali accelerated across the short distance to the paved road. In time, she’d get used to driving across the old wooden planks.
“I take it you’re not too fond of the bridge?” Valentina asked.
Alison eased off the accelerator. “Obvious, huh? Not a big fan so far.”
“I’m used to it, but I think it’s time for the city council to consider building a modern bridge, one that allows the boats access to the gulf without stopping the traffic.”
“That would be nice. Probably would take a while, don’t you think?” Ali said as she turned onto Dolphin Drive.
“Oh, I’m sure they can build bridges pretty quickly, especially these days with all the modern equipment that’s out there. But the local government around here moves about as slow as the turtles. You’ll get used to living here—the slow pace, casual everything. I can’t remember the last time I actually wore a nice dress. Not much of a social life,” Valentina said, then laughed. “Listen to me, moaning and groaning. I sound like a two-year-old.”
“This is what I’ve wanted for years. Quiet, living life on my own terms. I hope I made the right choice settling here on this little scrap of an island.”
“You’ll love it,” Valentina assured her. “Of course, I’ve spent my entire life here, so it’s what I’m used to. What about you? Are you from Florida? Not many people are.”
Should she open up, tell Valentina her story? Deciding it couldn’t hurt, she said, “I was born in Ohio. Spent most of my life there, then I moved to Georgia for a while. I was totally burnt out on winters, especially those in Ohio. I decided to head south, and here I am.” Pretty generic, she thought.
“A true snowbird,” Valentina stated. “You’ll fit right in. Lots of Buckeyes here—especially in the winter.”
Alison parked in the public parking area, glad her friend was with her so she’d only have to make one trip to the cottage. Not to mention she really enjoyed her company. More than ever, she wanted that darn driveway finished. Maybe she’d bite the bullet and call Gib. See what kind of price he offered, maybe hire Hal to do the entire job, if he was up for it.
“What do you know about Hal from Gibbons Hardware?” Ali asked.
“Everyone around here knows Hal. He’s as sweet as sugar and would do anything for anyone. His father orders him around like he’s some kind of robot.”
“Who’s his dad?”
“Gib, the owner of the store. He’s been here as long as I can remember. His wife died when Hal was young, not sure of what. He’s been a mainstay at the hardware store for as long as I can remember.”
“I’m thinking about hiring Hal to clear out all the overgrowth in the drive. I can’t imagine having to tromp back and forth from the house to the public lot every day.”
“He’s an excellent worker. He’s helped me with a few things throughout the years. I’d hire him again in a heartbeat.”
They each carried the bags to the cottage, dropping them on the front porch while Ali unlocked the key box. “I’ll be glad to get rid of this thing. Kimberly is supposed to stop by later to pick it up.”
“That would get tiresome after a while,” Valentina noted.
As soon as Ali stepped inside, she knew immediately something was off. “Can you smell that?” she asked.
They both walked into the kitchen, where the stench was much stronger. “What the hell?” Ali saw the freezer door was wide open, and a smattering of gray, red, and pink covered the entire bottom.
Valentina pinched her nose as she peered inside to see where the horrid odor was coming from. “That’s disgusting—it looks like fish guts.” She leaned in closer before saying, “Be right back.”
Who had been in her house? Was this a message?
“Here,” Valentina said as she returned with some paper towels and a bottle of spray disinfectant.
“I’ll do it,” Ali said. Taking the roll of paper towels from Valentina, she spread them out in a couple of layers to absorb the blood, then took the yellow shopping bag Valentina held out for her and dumped the now foul-smelling paper towels inside. She did this three more times, then sprayed the surface with disinfectant. When she finished cleaning the mess, she turned to Valentina. “Who would do something like this?”
“I wish I knew. This is disgusting. I think you should call the police, Ali.”
Ali shook her head. “No. I have an idea who might’ve done this, I just don’t know how they were able to get inside. I checked all the windows and doors. They were all locked when I left earlier.” She took the bag of fish guts and soiled paper towels and set it on the porch. Valentina followed, and they brought the rest of the bags inside.
“Who picks up the garbage? I guess I should’ve asked Kimberly.” Ali was new to the ins and outs of being a homeowner; she’d never had to deal with this sort of problem.
“You should have a couple of cans outside. The county waste company comes to the island once a week.”
Alison went outside to see where the cans were. “Nothing out there,” she said to Valentina, who’d unpacked the supplies and placed them on the kitchen counter.
“You’ll have to call the city. I’ll take the garbage to my house. The cans aren’t full.”
“It’s too nasty. I can’t have you do that. I’ll find a place to dump this. Maybe by the bridge? Fish eat other fish, so why not give them an extra treat?”
“Don’t let anyone see you, or they’ll raise nine kinds of hell. Specifically Rummy. He owns the seafood shop and uses this yuck to make fish stew. I’ve never tried it—and won’t. I hear it’s best to dump fish guts in the deep, so all that grossness will decompose. If folks see entrails and guts in the shallow waters, Rummy will get wind of it. He’ll tell you what a wasteful person you are, blah, blah, blah.”
“Screw Rummy. I don’t care what he thinks. Actually, the tide is out now. I can toss this mess into the gulf and be done with it.”
“Good idea. I was going to suggest it, but I wasn’t sure if you were one of those eco-nuts we have around here.”
“No, but I’m thrifty, and don’t waste food. However, I have my limits, and that crap on the porch is going back where it came from. This is disgusting, but I have to ask—can you tell what kind of fish it was?”