Mango Digger Read online

  Mango Digger

  A Mango Bob and Walker Adventure

  by

  Bill Myers

  www.mangobob.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.

  Copyright © 2018 Bill Myers. All rights reserved including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the author.

  Version 2018.15.04

  Chapter One

  She wanted me to call her Paige. Paige Mendoza. Her real name was Abigail. Abigail L. Turner. I never did find out what the L. stood for. She wouldn't tell me. Said it didn't matter. Said to call her Paige. Not Abigail, not Abby. Just Paige.

  She'd shown up with Devin three hours earlier. A surprise because Devin was to come alone. No one else was supposed to be with her.

  But apparently, plans had changed. Abigail, aka Paige, would be going in Devin's place. No one asked me if that'd be okay. If they had, they would have learned it wasn't. I wasn't happy with the change.

  I could put up with Devin even though she was a real pain. We'd spent a week on the road together before and I knew what to expect with her. But I didn't know anything about this Paige or Abigail or whatever her name was. She was a total stranger.

  We'd be forced to live together in the tight quarters of my motorhome for a week while traveling more than two thousand miles. If she got on my nerves or I got on hers, it'd make for a miserable trip. I wanted to tell Devin, “No.” No change in plans.

  But she wouldn't let me. She wouldn't stop talking about her replacement and the more I heard about the new girl the more I knew the trip was going to be a disaster.

  I finally got a word in edgewise. “She's a goat girl? Are you telling me I'm going to be spending a week on the road with a goat girl?”

  Devin shook her head. “No, Walker, that's not what I said. She's not a goat girl. It's just that she's shy and when she gets nervous, she tends to faint. Kind of like the fainting goats you see on TV. Other than that, she's pretty normal—most of the time. And she's not a little girl. She's a grown woman about your age.”

  Devin had shown up an hour before dawn, just like we'd planned. She was supposed to be packed and ready to go. We had a long drive ahead and needed to get on the road early to avoid morning rush hour traffic through Tampa.

  The first thing she had said when she stepped into my motorhome was, “There's been a slight change in plans. I'm not going with you. The new girl is.”

  Like I said, no one bothered to tell me and I wasn't happy with the change.

  “So, you're not going, and I'll be spending seven days on the road with a goat girl? Whose idea was that? Yours? And why a replacement? Why not just let me do this on my own?”

  Kat, a mutual friend, had been missing for three days. She'd parked her new motorhome in a small campground in Arkansas and had overstayed her reservation. The campground manager, wanting to free up the site and concerned about the missing woman, called the emergency contact number on Kat's reservation form.

  The call went to Boris Chesnokov, Kat's father, former Don of South Florida's Russian Mob. When he learned his daughter was missing, he called Devin—his 'go to' girl for missions involving his grown daughter.

  In a way that only a Mafia boss can, he asked Devin to get me to go with her to find Kat. It was a request she couldn't turn down.

  Boris knew me from work I'd done for him before, a job that involved finding out who had hacked into his computer network and security system. Most of what I had done for him had been legal. Some of it might have strayed into a legal gray area; not saying it did, but it could have.

  I found the culprit, shut down his operation and everyone was happy, except for the hacker. He was taken away in cuffs by the FBI. No one is quite sure where they took him.

  Boris was quite appreciative and paid me well. He suggested there would be opportunities to work together in the future, a suggestion that might have sounded like a threat to some, but not to me.

  Before he brought me on board for the first job, Boris had thoroughly checked me out. He knew where I grew up, where I went to school, about my time in the service, and the jobs I'd held since. He also knew I was unemployed, lived in a motorhome and somehow had enough money stashed away that I didn't need to work for a living.

  So when he got the call from the campground manager in Arkansas about his daughter, he knew from his research that I had grown up in the area where she had gone missing. He figured my local knowledge would give me a better chance of finding her than the other people he could send. He told Devin to bring me on board. I was 'volunteered' for the job.

  I understood why he wanted me, but wasn't sure why he wanted Devin to go. I didn't need her help and having a woman living with me in the motorhome would complicate matters when it came to bathroom time and sleeping arrangements.

  That's because my motorhome is not that big. It's certainly not one of those rolling palaces you see the rich and famous driving. Mine is a Class C, the size of a small UPS truck. It has a bedroom in the back with a tiny bathroom across from it, a small kitchen amidships, and a couch up front. I sleep in the bed on the back. And guests, when I have them, sleep on the fold out couch. Or they try to. The couch, with its hard cushions and seam down the middle, isn't very comfortable.

  But it wouldn't matter whether the couch was comfortable or not if I went alone because no one would need to sleep on it. I could have the whole place to myself and there'd be no need to try to play nice with a stranger.

  I let Devin know how I felt.

  “Devin, if you're not going, there's no need for the goat girl to tag along. I can do it on my own. It'll be better that way, no one to slow me down or get in my way.

  “So as soon as the goat girl shows up, you can tell her to go back home. I don't need her.”

  Devin put a finger to her lips and whispered, “Walker, lower your voice. She's out in the car and she's probably listening. It'll hurt her feelings if she hears you call her a goat girl.”

  I lowered my voice. “You left her out in the car? Why'd you do that? Why didn't you bring her in with you?”

  “I already told you. She's shy. She didn't want to come in until I told you about her. She doesn't like change and didn't think you would either.

  “If she had her way, she wouldn't be going on this trip. She'd be back home writing poetry or whatever it is she does in her spare time. She sure wouldn't be dreaming about spending time cooped up in a motorhome with the likes of you.”

  I started to object to the “likes of me” comment but decided against it. Instead, I said, “Good. She doesn't want to go. Fine. Send her home.”

  Devin frowned. “I can't do that. You have to take her. Boris said so. He's the one who wants her to go instead of me. If you have a problem with that, call him.”

  She reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone and held it out to me. “Go ahead. Call him. But before you do, you'll want to know that Boris thinks very highly of this woman. He says she has a gift. One that can help find his daughter.

  “He might not be happy if you refuse to take her with you. But it's up to you. If you don't mind making him mad, go ahead, call him. He’s number four on my speed dial.”

  She held out the phone, waiting for me to take it.

&n
bsp; She knew I wouldn't make the call, but she wasn't going to let me off the hook. She raised her eyebrows and asked, “You going to call him? You going to tell him you’re not going to take the woman he personally chose to help you find his daughter?”

  There was only one answer to that question and Devin knew it. I wasn't going to call Boris. No way.

  It wasn't that I was afraid of him. He had been fair to me in the past and I sensed he would be fair to me in the future. But that might change if I didn't take the goat girl and failed to find his daughter.

  When I didn't answer Devin's question, she put the phone back in her pocket and pulled out a thick, white envelope. It was stuffed with hundred-dollar bills, a credit card and a sheet of paper with printing on it.

  “Boris said to give you this. He said to use the credit card to pay for gas and hotels. Use the cash to cover everything else. Keep what's left.”

  Instead of taking the envelope, I asked, “What's her name?”

  Chapter Two

  “Abigail. That's her name. You'll like her once you get to know her. All you have to do is be nice.”

  I nodded. “I can be nice. What's her gift?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You said she had a gift, something that was supposed to help me find Kat. What kind of gift does she have?”

  Devin shrugged. “I don't know. Boris said she had a gift. He didn't tell me what it was and I didn't ask. But if you want to know, call him. ”

  She pretended to reach for her phone again but stopped before pulling it out. She knew I wasn’t going to make the call.

  I scratched my head and said, “No need to bother him this early in the morning. He's probably still asleep.”

  Devin smiled. “Yeah, you don't want to wake him. I'm sure that's the only reason you don't want to call.”

  She was starting to get on my nerves. Maybe it was good she wasn't going with me. I didn't need her nonstop snarkiness for the next seven days.

  I decided to be the better person and said, “I hope her gift is not mind reading because she wouldn't be happy reading mine right now.”

  Devin laughed. “Yeah, I think you'd be in a lot of trouble around a woman who could read your mind. Nothing good could come of that.

  “Still, being able to read minds? That'd make my job a lot easier. Call me if you find out she can. I'll put her to work.”

  I wasn't sure what Devin meant when she said it would make her job a lot easier. As far as I knew, she'd never held a real job. She was a professional con artist. That's what she did for a living. Con people out of money, valuables and time.

  When I'd first met Devin, Kat had called her the “queen of the long con”. She said I should be real careful around her and not to believe anything she said. If I had listened to her, it would have saved me a lot of grief. Devin conned me big time. I had bruises and an empty wallet to prove it.

  Rather than bring this up, I took a deep breath and kept my mouth shut. I knew that instead of standing around arguing with her, I needed to get on the road and head to the last place Kat had been seen—a campsite twelve hundred miles north at a remote crystal mine in Arkansas, just north of Hot Springs National Park.

  I nodded toward the door. “Go get her. Time's a wasting and we have a long way to go.”

  Devin smiled, but instead of reaching for the door she said, “Walker, before I bring her in here, there are a few things you need to know.

  “Like I said, she's shy. She may not talk much until she feels comfortable around you. Whatever you do, don't raise your voice when you're speaking to her. Don't let anyone else raise their voice around her either.”

  I nodded. That wouldn't be a problem. I don't raise my voice much. Don't need to.

  She continued. “Don't let her get drunk. She doesn't hold her liquor well. Don't lose her in a crowd; you'll never find her again. Don't let her gamble. She'll lose all your money. And whatever you do, don't sleep with her. Got it?”

  I smiled and tried to make a joke, “She's not going to be much fun is she? No yelling, no drinking, no gambling and no sleeping with the goat girl.”

  Devin didn't laugh. Instead, she punched me on the shoulder. “Don't call her a goat girl. It's not funny.”

  She turned and went out to her car.

  While I waited, I wondered what I was getting into. I'd be traveling with a stranger, one that had come with a set of rules, and, supposedly, some kind of 'gift'.

  I was half tempted to lock the door, jump in the driver's seat and take off. It would have been easier that way. Just me and the road. No one to bother me or get in my way. I could drive as long as I wanted, stop whenever I liked, and not have to worry about upsetting a goat girl.

  I reached in my pocket for the keys. Maybe leaving without her was for the best. But I hesitated. I heard voices from outside, a whisper between two women.

  One of them sounded upset, reluctant to get out of the car. Devin pleaded with her. “Please do this. Boris will be upset with me if you don't.”

  After a few seconds of silence, the sound of a car door being opened. Then closed. A moment later, Devin opened the door to my motorhome and stepped in, the goat girl close behind.

  She stood about five foot three, a little on the skinny side, wearing pajamas covered with little cartoon sheep jumping over fences. A pink stocking cap hid most of her hair. The few curls that had escaped revealed a streak of purple. She had a phone in one hand and the handle of a pink suitcase in the other. The suitcase looked heavy and full.

  Devin introduced us. “Abigail, this is Walker. He'll be your driver for the next few days.”

  I smiled at being called her 'driver' and nodded in her direction. She didn't return the smile. Instead, she looked down at the fuzzy bunny slippers on her feet and mumbled something that sounded like, “Seepy.”

  She looked toward the back of the motorhome and then back at me. I could see my reflection in her mirrored sunglasses, and I didn't look happy.

  She set her suitcase on the floor and, in a soft voice, asked, “Where's the cat?”

  I wasn't surprised she knew about my cat. Devin had probably warned her there was one living in the motorhome with me. Some people are allergic to cats and others are afraid of them. If Abigail was either, she wasn't going to be happy when she saw mine.

  His name is Mango Bob, and he's big, almost twenty pounds of muscle and fur and still growing every day. An orange tabby, born with just a stub of a tail, pointy ears and raised hind quarters. In the wild, people would mistake him for a bobcat. He has the look. And the attitude.

  But he doesn't live in the wild. He lives in the motorhome with me.

  I pointed to the bedroom. “Back there, on the bed.”

  She nodded, grabbed her suitcase and headed to the back. She stepped into my bedroom, pulled her suitcase in behind her and closed the door. The sound of the lock being set was unmistakable.

  I turned to Devin. “What does she think she's doing? She went into my bedroom and locked the door?”

  . Devin nodded. “Yeah, she does things like that. But don't worry, she'll be fine. She likes cats.”

  I wasn't worried about the cat. Bob can take care of himself. He's proven that many times over. I was more worried about a strange woman going into my bedroom, locking the door and going through my things.

  Devin let it pass. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the cash-filled envelope. “Take the money. Use the credit card for fuel, and follow the route marked on the map.”

  “What map?”

  She nodded toward the envelope. “In there.”

  I took the envelope and saw a folded sheet of paper in between the hundred-dollar bills. I pulled it out and shoved the envelope with the cash into my pocket. I didn't need the money, but if Boris wanted me to have it, I wasn't going to turn it down.

  Unfolding the paper, I saw that someone had created a custom route on a Google map with little pushpin icons showing places to stop.

  I shook my head.
“I don't need this. I know the way and this isn’t it.”

  Devin nodded toward the back bedroom. “Abigail made it. She says it's the route Kat took and the places she stopped. She wants you to go the same way, stop at the same places and camp in the same campgrounds. She said it'll help her find Kat.”

  I looked at the map again. It showed us getting on I-75, going north around Sarasota and Tampa and staying on the interstate all the way to Mobile. Then up through Hattiesburg and on to Jackson, Mississippi and Vicksburg, where we were to spend the night at the Ameristar Casino RV park.

  “She wants us to do all this in a day? That's eight hundred miles. Maybe we could do it in a car, but in a motorhome? No way. Even if we don't run into traffic or weather, it'll take us at least fifteen hours.”

  Devin smiled. “Yeah, it's going to be a long drive. You probably ought to get started.”

  She headed for the door but stopped before going out. She turned and said, “I put your number on Abigail's phone. She might text you while you're driving. Try not to wreck when you read them.”

  She smiled and said, “Have fun.”

  She stepped out of the motorhome, walked over to her car, and drove off, leaving me, Bob and the goat girl behind.

  Chapter Three

  I thought about going back and making sure the goat girl was okay, but since she'd locked the bedroom door, I figured she wanted privacy, so I left her alone.

  Still, I didn't want to drive off without letting her know we were leaving. We would be going over some rough roads before we hit the highway and, if she wasn't ready, she could bounce off the bed. Maybe get hurt.

  So, after starting the motorhome, I went back and stood in front of the bedroom door. Remembering Devin's warning about not raising my voice, I tapped lightly and whispered, “We're getting ready to leave. Be careful in there.”

  There was no response. I shrugged and went back up front. I took my seat behind the wheel and just as I was about to put the motorhome in gear, my phone buzzed with a text. The sender name was Abigail. The message said, “Follow the map. GG.”