“Do you have an office?” I asked.
He seemed surprised. “I’ll be working out of my home until I find a place. I rented a waterfront condo on the outskirts of town.”
“You want to type in the address so I can deliver the report?” I handed him my phone.
“Do you have a card?” Lucas asked when he finished. “The doctor tells me that you have connections in all strata of society.”
“Yes, I’m well acquainted with lowlifes, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”
“I wasn’t. But good to know.”
Fab walked over to the car, retrieved her card, and came back, putting it in his open hand.
“PI!” He pocketed the card. “Another good connection.”
“We have stipulations that need to be agreed on before you even ask us to do a job,” I said.
We do? Fab mouthed.
I ignored her. “Nothing illegal. Grey-area jobs to be negotiated. And no ’tudiness if we tell you ‘Heck no.’”
“Agreed. I would like to know what my brother’s got against the two of you. He had a fit when I showed interest in the case.”
“You’ll have to ask him,” I sidestepped. “Maybe it has to do with neighbor relations, since he lives next door to my brother. Or maybe it’s just his prickly personality.”
Lucas laughed. “He does have that.” He pulled his phone out. “How do I get in touch with Doc Rivers?”
I scrolled through my phone, found Doc’s number, and hit the call button.
“What?” Doc answered, his surly tone coming through loud and clear.
“I’m here at the jail. Just finished visiting the other good doc,” I said. “Found him a new lawyer. No offense to Mr. Beaton, but this one is better. His name is Lucas Mark, and he needs your help on a couple of matters.”
“Name the time and place.”
“You got time now?” I asked. Both men said yes simultaneously. “Where are you?”
“Where do you suppose I am?” Doc snorted. “You know this is poker day.”
“I’m sending him over and will call to have Doodad clear the deck so you can have privacy.”
“You’re a sweet girl.”
“Aww. Tell Mother she needs to be reminded of that.”
Doc laughed. “You tell the lawyer not to drag his feet; I’m waiting on him.”
“Yes, sir.” We both hung up. I texted Lucas the address of Jake’s. “Don’t dawdle. Doc Rivers is a crusty fellow, but you can’t have a better friend.”
“I’d like to get my hands on the police report ASAP.” Lucas hit his key fob, opening the car door. “You’ll need to call first; it’s a security building.”
“No problem, we’ll leave the package at your doorstep,” Fab told him. “Upscale address, prissy security building…probably so your neighbors don’t steal.”
He glared down his nose at Fab, and she returned the look. “It’s been interesting.”
“You’ll be hearing from us.” I smiled.
“When you go to Stan’s place, videotape it and make sure I get a copy.”
I saluted. “FYI: No one calls Dr. A Stan.”
Fab grabbed my arm as we walked away. “Maybe hit him up for some lawyering for Joseph.”
“I’m embarrassed to say I gave brief thought to the idea but didn’t have the nerve to ask a Yale-educated lawyer to besmirch his record with a street brawl case.”
“There’s that.”
We laughed.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning, I sat nursing my second cup of coffee, feeling better than the day before. Fab and I had split up after the jail visit and gone back to our respective homes, and I’d indulged in a nap, waking up with my head no longer in danger of falling off my shoulders.
Over coffee, I read the police report, and as Fab had requested, copied down the address of the deceased. I got up and pulled the copier out of the cupboard to make a copy for Lucas. Once finished, I clipped Didier’s card to the top after writing on the back, “Call re: office space.”
I grabbed up the envelope and headed out the door to deliver it myself. Fab wasn’t the only one who knew how to pick a lock. In fact, thanks to her, most everyone in the family knew how.
Lucas’s condo was no more than a five-minute drive away. He lived in a multi-story condo building with a view of the water from every unit. It surprised me that there were no security gates. I parked in front, and was about to pull out my lockpick when an older woman came out the main door and held it open for me. “Here you go, honey.”
I didn’t bother to knock, instead propping the envelope against his apartment door. I waited until I was back in the SUV to text him about the delivery. “Give him a taste of how clever we can be,” I said to myself and laughed.
I was pulling into Creole’s driveway when my phone rang and Fab’s face popped up.
“Busy day today,” she said as soon as I answered. “Dress business-like; we’re going to surprise Mr. Mott at his office.”
“I thought he was out of town.”
“Funny thing, he’s not and never has been, according to my source,” Fab growled. “Since he won’t take my calls, I’m having to resort to making a personal call.”
“Give me a half-hour.” I hung up and raced inside the house and into the shower.
When I finished in the bathroom and came out, it turned out I’d miscalculated the time it would take Fab to arrive. She was early and rooting around in the closet. Apparently, just because I’d dressed myself for many years before meeting her didn’t mean I could do so now.
Oh well. I mentally shrugged.
Fab glanced over her shoulder. “You really need some more clothes.” She came out with an above-the-knee black dress that she’d bought for me and a pair of black heels that I assumed were bought on the same shopping foray.
“I’ve decided to try out being a minimalist.” I grabbed the clothes from her and went back in the bathroom to finish dressing.
“I picked out another outfit for you to change into when we’re done,” Fab yelled through the door. “After dealing with Mott, we’re going to go do some breaking and entering.”
I came out, and she gave me a head-to-toe once-over and nodded her approval. I reached in my bedside drawer and pulled out my Glock. “Do you think this goes with my outfit?”
“You know what I always say.” Fab shook her finger at me.
“Never leave home without a firearm,” we said together.
“Let’s hit the road,” Fab said. “We’ve got time for coffee.”
I grabbed my purse and tote bag and followed her out the door.
Fab flew north up the highway and through most of the lights. Thankfully, all were green and traffic was light. Mr. Mott was yet another CEO with an office on Ocean Boulevard overlooking the white sands of Miami Beach. Fab had no choice but to pull into the underground parking, which had her grumbling. It didn’t fit into her quick getaway blueprint.
“What’s my role?” I asked as we headed to the elevator.
“Don’t let me leave without a nice big check.”
“In the future, before accepting a job, get an agreement to be paid in cash, and no crypto-currency, thank you. There’s not a shoe store in town that will take the latter, which is a good reason for us not taking it.”
“You’re crazy.” She jerked me into the elevator by the arm, jabbing a button.
“At least, admit it’s in a good way.”
“I’ll think on it.” She smirked.
We got off the elevator and saw the reception desk not more than a couple feet away. Fab approached, pulling money out of her jacket pocket. “Taylor?”
The woman nodded and smiled. “Can I help you?”
Fab reached out and put the cash in the woman’s hand, along with her parking ticket. “Thank you for all your help. Is Mr. Mott in?”
The nerve. I stood there with a stupid smile on my face, trying not to laugh.
“Yes, but he’s not seeing
anyone.” Her eyes were as big as saucers. “I don’t want to lose my job.” She validated Fab’s ticket and handed it back.
“Where’s his office?”
“Down the hall to the end, make a right; it’s the last one. You won’t get past Mr. Mott’s assistant, who has the adjoining office.”
The elevator doors opened, and a delivery guy rolled out a cart with an assortment of boxes.
“If asked, you not only don’t know anything, you never even saw us.” Fab motioned to me, and we headed down the hall.
Turning the corner, we saw Mr. Mott’s office door standing open. Fab walked in like she owned the joint while I closed the door behind us.
Mott looked up, and his pudgy face paled considerably. “I didn’t realize we had an appointment.”
“You know damn well we don’t.” Fab seated herself in front of his desk. “I’d like to hear why you really hired me, and don’t insult me with the story you used when you first called, since we both know that your security system was installed by a company with impeccable credentials.”
I stood by the door, looking around the chrome-and-glass office. Paintings lined the walls; the biggest one an oil painting of himself. Mr. Mott wasn’t much for personal items except for the enormous silver humidor sitting in the center of a side table.
The man shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I’d heard rumors of a lawsuit against that company and couldn’t take a chance that they’d do shoddy work. It appears they did.”
“What a crock,” Fab snapped. “I’ll tell you what I know. The so-called robbers…” She paused. “They had easy access. It’s as if they walked in right past the security gates and locked doors, hauled your worldly goods out, and packed them with care in the back of a van. The thieves were in no hurry. The system didn’t trip until we arrived. Funny thing: that was one hour later, and security claimed it had just gone off.”
“What are you getting at?” Mott demanded, not pulling off angry but instead looking scared. “You’d better not be suggesting that I had anything to do with robbing my own house.”
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.” Fab eyed him like a cockroach she was about to squash under her heel. “In light of your liquidity issues, it’s not a stretch—your insurance claim will bring in millions. I assume this is your first attempt at insurance fraud—that you’re not good at it, even factoring in that you have to start somewhere. Adjusters aren’t stupid. If I can smell a scam, then they sure as heck can. Better get your jail perks lined up.”
“Get out of my office or I’m calling security,” Mott spit, wiping his mouth.
“Go ahead, call the police. I’m sure they’ll be interested in hearing what I have to say about the so-called robbery at your manse.”
“What do you want?”
“Payment, for one thing.” Fab held his attention with her burning glare. “Three times the negotiated amount in reimbursement for the time my partner and I spent sitting handcuffed on your stinkin’ grass.”
“That’s blackmail.”
“Actually, it isn’t. It’s your choice, and if you decide the fee is exorbitant, I’ll send a collector.” Fab made a strangling noise that sent his eyebrows up to his hairline. “Once our business is concluded, it’s understood that we don’t know each other. In fact, we never met.”
Mott opened a side drawer and pulled out his checkbook, filling out a check and handing it to Fab. “Now get out.”
Fab stood and lifted the hem of her silk blouse, tucking it behind her Walther. Mott’s eyes bugged.
“I don’t appreciate your setting me up as a suspect.” Fab leaned forward. “You’re lucky. I planned to come here and blow your brains out and watch your blood dribble down the glass behind you. Say ‘thank you’ to my friend.” She motioned over her shoulder. “She’s the one who talked me down.”
“Thank you,” Mott squeaked, not making eye contact.
I opened the door, Fab flounced through, and I turned back to Mott. “Don’t do anything stupid, like stopping payment on the check, because you really won’t like what will happen.” I smiled sweetly and closed the door.
We passed the reception desk without so much as a pause.
When the elevator doors closed, I asked, “Where did you get the info? Judging by Mott’s reaction, you were spot on.”
“Unleashed Toady. He paid off one of the housemaids, who’d been ordered to take a few days off but stayed behind because she had no place to go. He’s also the one who made a connection with Taylor, and lucky us, she can be bribed.”
I squirmed. “Toady says he’s a babe magnet; do you suppose it’s true?” I conjured up an image of the man, who had the skin of an old reptile, in his jeans and wife-beater and shuddered.
“I don’t ask how Toady gets his info. I just appreciate that he gets it fast and it’s accurate. I did have to talk him down from strangling Mott.”
“That’s because you’re the girl of his dreams and he’d do anything to protect you. If you’d been hauled off to jail, bye-bye Mr. Mott; he’d disappear without a trace.”
“Toady stopped all the romance talk once Didier and I got married. He even congratulated the two of us.”
The parking attendant brought the SUV around and ogled Fab as she slid behind the wheel.
“In the spirit of keeping one another informed…” she said as she drove out of the underground garage.
I didn’t want to ask.
“Toady got an interesting call from Brick, who had a job offer, but Toady had to agree to tell no one before he got to hear the details.”
“Toady needs to watch his back.” I turned my attention to the waves crashing on the sand.
Brick Famosa was Fab’s oldest client and a pain in the…
“An auto hauler full of classic cars went missing on its way to auction,” Fab related, excitement in her voice. “Brick wants it found and doesn’t want the cops involved.”
“That crosses off insurance fraud.” Her tone had me worried that she’d want in on the recovery. “That still leaves someone stupid enough to steal from Brick, and my guess is he knows who did it and why. No cops could mean another felony—perhaps, they were stolen to begin with—meaning whatever method works to get it back is acceptable.” Brick’s jobs never failed to give me a headache. “Assure me that you’re not getting involved.”
“Brick’s finally gotten the message that I’m no longer working for him.”
Her non-answer bothered me. Apparently, it showed, because after a moment, she continued.
“If I did accept another Brick job, Didier would divorce me, and I’m not letting that happen. But if Brick continues to go directly to Toady, I’ll miss out on the opportunity to bill the man double.”
“We need to bring in some new clients.”
Fab gave me the “you grew a second head” stare. “I’m not interested in rounding up stolen bicycles.”
I clasped my hands to my chest. “You wound me.”
Fab pulled over in front of a two-story apartment building and parked.
“This is…?” I’d wondered why she was winding around neighborhood streets instead of taking the direct route back to the turnpike.
“Nicolette’s place,” she said in a tone suggesting that I should already know the answer.
“We’re here to search the place, I assume? Does this have anything to do with the secret code you were exchanging with the good doc?”
“It would be interesting to know who Nicolette Anais was. If the drugs didn’t belong to Dr. A, then they had to be hers. If so, I’m not sure how we prove that she bought her own drugs, but it’s worth a try.”
“Quiet neighborhood.” I craned my head around. “Are we using our special key?” Code for lockpick.
“That’s Plan B.”
Now that surprised me, and I hoped that Plan A was legal, since I wasn’t sitting this one out in the car. As I got out, I noticed Fab pocketing some cash and her PI badge. “First, we look for a maintenance of
fice. Last resort, we talk to the manager,” she said.
“And if neither cooperate?”
“Then we’ll be coming back at night.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s not as easy to sneak out at night now that the guys keep regularish hours,” I reminded her. “The window of opportunity to do as we please and update them later has closed. And don’t think that you can come up with some yarn about the job being legal and then spring it on them at the last minute. Keep in mind how much you hate going without sex, and you know that’s what Didier will do.” I scissored my fingers.
“How come you don’t complain about such issues with Creole?”
I harrumphed. “Because I’m not the sneak-around chick. Look in the rearview mirror; that would be her.”
Fab turned towards her reflection in the mirror and waved.
I laughed. “Okay, we’ve used up our allotted time talking about sex.”
We got out and cut across the sidewalk and over to the entrance to the building.
Fab stopped at the mailbox, but none of the slots were marked. The first apartment had a “manager” plaque on the door, which Fab marched right on past. “We’ll walk to the end and see what we can find. Checking out the upstairs is a waste of time.”
The manager’s door opened, and I caught a glimpse of an older woman peering out at us. I hurried to catch up to Fab, who’d bolted up the walkway. “If it turns out that you don’t need to chat with the manager, I suggest that we go out the back and around the block to get to the car.”
“There’s nothing down here.” Fab doubled back, and when she got to the manager’s door, the woman was standing behind the screen. “I’m here to ask a few questions about Nicolette Anais.” She held up her badge, then gestured at me. “New trainee,” she said dismissively.
Trainee now! No fun for me. I smiled at the woman.
“The police have already been here,” she said. “I told them Ms. Anais kept to herself and I didn’t know anything. Don’t want to get involved in any murder case.”
“Have you re-rented her apartment?”
The woman shook her head. “The owner has to get a court order releasing the place.”
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