Fab grabbed the jacket and walked off holding it with two fingers, disappearing around the shed.
I retrieved the two bags, holding them away from me. They smelled rank, the scent difficult to define. On par with dead-body stench…almost.
“He’s been on his own for a while,” Fab said as we met up and backtracked across the lot.
“You’ve got my phone, so you’re going to be the one he makes contact with. Your job is to seal the deal for a sit-down. No threats, got it?”
“The kid is underage.” Fab shook her head. “You know that old saying about good deeds and punishment? Not turning him in to authorities could land you in big trouble.”
“If he agrees to the meeting, then I’ll call Emerson and find out what the options are.”
Fab rubbed her forehead.
“Let me guess. Another premonition? Just spit it out…without actual spit.”
“The line of people that are going to be irked at you is growing.”
“There’s a sympathy factor here, and don’t think I won’t exploit it.” I opened the passenger side of the SUV when Fab popped the locks and slid in.
Chapter Twenty
Mac’s text saying Joseph’s court date was in two days was a reminder that Fab hadn’t followed through on her offer to broker a settlement between him and Ronnie Butthead Bardwell. Good thing Mac had included his real name in the text.
I relayed the message to Fab. “We’re running out of time.”
“What’s the address?”
“It’s the pay-by-the-week motel on the main drag.” Mac had sent a picture and labeled it, Verified.
You’re the best, I texted back.
“The hovel that’s set back from the street?” Fab eased back into traffic.
“That would be the place.” I gave her a big smile. “He has the unit next to the laundry room.”
“Might as well get this over with.”
“I feel it important that we go over the plan of action, since I’m assuming that I’m sidekick on this job.” I ignored her raised eyebrow. “There’s to be no bodily harm, at least to me anyway. Butthead is also a ‘no,’ but only because I don’t want to land in the pokey.”
“It can be hard to prove if there are no visible marks.” Her blue eyes turned towards me in amusement as she turned into the property and parked.
We got out and cut around to the side gate of the garish, turquoise, u-shaped, one-story building, skirting the pool in the center, which was in bad need of re-plastering. Several doors were held open with old vinyl kitchen chairs, the sounds from various televisions blaring out. Walking by the office, I gave it a cursory glance, noting that the lone woman on the phone wasn’t paying any attention.
“Do you know where you’re going?” I asked as Fab barreled through the courtyard.
Two men hung over the balcony, whistling. One’s cigarette dropped from his lips, landing not far from Fab’s foot, and she stomped on it, which garnered laughter.
Fab came to a halt in front of Ronnie’s room. The blinds were wide open, which made it easy for her to peer inside. No one was in sight. She knocked.
“Looking for Ronnie?” one of the men yelled. “He moved.”
Fab nodded up at him. “Got a forwarding?”
“He lit out of here after two dudes showed up, one practically beating the door down. Packed up and blew out of here…poof.” He threw up his arms.
Fab waved. “Let’s get the heck out of here.” She jerked on my arm.
Two drunks lumbered in the gate, blocking the exit as they hurled obscenities at one another, taking swipes at each other but no real punches. Since there was no way around the pair, I motioned to Fab that we go through the rear gate, which stood open, and circle around through the alley to the car.
After giving my exit plan a quick scan, she yelled at the men, “Knock it off.”
The two men untangled themselves and turned on Fab.
The burlier of the two stepped forward, arms outstretched. “Bring it on, sister.”
“We don’t want any trouble.” Fab pointed to the parking lot. “Just want to get back to the car.”
A laugh gurgled out of him, releasing a torrent of spit, and he rushed her.
Fab grabbed his arm, whirled him around, put her foot to his backside, and sent him flying into the pool. The other man leaned over the side, pointing at his friend and laughing. Fab’s foot connected with his butt, and he landed not far from the first, dowsing his friend, who’d surfaced and was coughing.
They both resurfaced and dog paddled to the steps, spitting out water the whole way and cursing our ancestors.
“If either of you gets out of the pool before we clear the driveway, I’ll shoot.” Fab pulled up her top, showing she could back up her threat. She motioned to me, and we hustled back to the car, just short of a run.
“That was fun.” Fab jumped behind the wheel.
I slid into the passenger seat and clapped. “Just once, I want to be the butt-flinger.”
“Practice on Creole.”
We both laughed as she sent gravel flying, exiting to the street.
Fab slowed for a jaywalker, who gave her a wave. “We’re going to pay our informant a little visit and show her what we think of bogus information.”
“If Mac quits because of you, you’re working the office until I find a suitable replacement.”
Fab knew it was an idle threat. The Cottages would be a ghost town under her control.
Rounding the corner, we saw Mac’s truck sitting in her driveway. Fab parked sideways, blocking her in, and laid on the horn.
“Stop that.” I slapped her hand. “Unless you want everyone at The Cottages spilling out to see what’s going on.” I checked the property across the street and sighed with relief that all was quiet. I wanted it to stay that way.
Mac clomped out on her porch, sporting croc heels—as if the regular shoes weren’t ugly enough, they’d expanded the line. She slammed the door behind her, hands on her hips. “What?” she growled.
I leaned my head out the window and waved. “It was her,” I shouted and pointed over my shoulder.
“I had no doubt.” Mac jumped off the steps, executing a brief bow.
Fab got out and met Mac at the front of the SUV. I lagged behind, but still had a ringside seat.
“You gave us bogus Butthead information. He moved. You know what that means?” Fab shook her head with a snarl. “I’m taking back all my IOUs. I’m debt-free.” She preened.
Not fair!
“Baloney-ass.” Mac jumped forward, hands on her hips. “It was accurate at the time. Not my fault you lollygagged.”
The two women engaged in a stare-down. I knew they were both highly amused with themselves, since their body language was more sassy than threatening.
“Any idea where he is now?” Fab cracked her knuckles.
“Ladies do not indulge in such vulgar mannerisms,” I said, mimicking her snooty tone while smiling at Mac.
“Let’s see.” Mac tapped her cheek. “I get my IOUs back, and you get the info.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing.
“Deal,” Fab snapped.
“You hear that, boss?” Mac asked.
“I sure did.”
Mac pirouetted in her workout leggings, ending in a convoluted jump that had me holding my breath. “Cooks at Custer’s.” She made a flipping motion. “Gets off…” She checked her watch. “…in an hour.”
“Eww.” Fab made a retching noise. “They serve food?”
“They serve a few finger munchies,” Mac informed us. The renowned hole-in-the-wall bar did a brisk business selling screwtop beer and wine. “Butthead doesn’t work very hard, thereby giving him time to rest up so he can beat up old men.”
“I’m going to let him know that I’m the nice one. And if I have to, I’ll hand him over to my sidekick. So beware.” Fab growled like an animal with a sore paw, then laughed at her antics. “Because of you, I felt it imperative
to raise my game on the sound effects. I’m acing it, don’t you think?”
“Why can’t you just let me be the star of something?” I sighed melodramatically.
“Aww.” Fab patted my arm. “You shine. In your own sweet way.”
“You’re lucky I can’t puke on demand.”
Mac laughed at us. “One more thing.” She pulled out her phone and punched some buttons. “I sent a pic of his car, so you’ll know once you hit the parking lot if you’re wasting your time.”
Fab clapped her hand on the hood. “That better not happen a second time,” she said and got behind the wheel.
“Ignore her,” I said.
“Already did.” Mac laughed.
I got in and waved out the window.
Fab weaved her way through traffic down the main street, pulling into a tree-filled lot that shared the driveway with Custer’s. The colorfully painted, graffiti-covered, some would say artsy, building hadn’t changed much since the last time we were there. Custer had added a broken-down picnic table or two and a handful of objets d’art. If you chose to sit outside in one of the termite-eaten chairs and leaned down, you might catch a glimpse of the ocean through the underground garage of the new condo building across the street.
“There’s the car in the pic Mac sent.” I held up my phone, comparing image and car.
Fab cruised slowly down the alley before turning around and going back, parking under a tree away from customer parking.
“I’ve got a plan.” Fab flexed her muscles. “I’ll meet Butthead at the back door and shove him in the trash area for our one-on-one. As I recall, it’s only a few feet from the back door. You’re lookout.” She nudged me. “I don’t want anyone stumbling onto the chance of a fight breaking out. The bar would clear, along with some of the buildings that back up to the alley. If that happens, it won’t take long for the cops to show.”
I kicked off my flip-flops and shoved my feet into my tennis shoes. “No guns,” I said before getting out.
We couldn’t have timed it more perfectly. We’d just reached the back exit when Butthead shoved open the door, more intent on looking at his phone than the two women within arm’s reach. “His name’s Ronnie,” I whispered to Fab.
“Hello, Ronnie.” Fab held up her PI badge.
“That’s bullshit.” He sneered. “I see you’ve been to the party store. I oughta have you arrested for impersonating a cop.”
Not a good start.
Fab grabbed his arm, jerked him around, and sent him flying into the side of the dumpster. “I’m here for a friendly chat. Nod if you understand.” When he didn’t respond quickly enough for her, she tightened her hold on his arm and twisted it higher up into the middle of his back.
Ronnie nodded, proving he wasn’t a complete moron.
“You beat up an old man and then pressed charges,” Fab hissed in his ear. “And you…not so much as a smudge of dirt on you.”
“What do you want?” he squeaked.
“Drop the charges. Tell the prosecutor you were mistaken and walk away.” Fab jerked his arm until he yelped.
“Joseph owes me money,” Ronnie whined. “He knew damn well what would happen when he didn’t show up with Dilly’s cash and only a lame excuse. Now my ass is on the line.”
Dilwen Nash, aka Dilly? How the heck did Joseph get involved with that man?
“How much does he owe?” Fab tightened her hold.
“Five large,” Ronnie squeaked.
I shrugged at Fab’s questioning expression when she looked over her shoulder. I had no clue how Joseph got involved with a loan shark but intended to find out. Ignorance wasn’t any excuse. He’d lived in the area long enough to know that Dilwen Nash was bad news.
Fab pushed Butthead up against the fence. “Here’s the deal, and it’s the only offer you’re getting. I’ll check out your story, and in the meantime, you know what you’ve got to do. If Joseph goes to jail, you won’t get a cent and you’ll live life on the run.”
“I guess.”
“Heed my warning.” Fab banged his head against the dumpster and he yelped. “We’re not going to have a second conversation. Instead of me, you’ll meet my associate. He brags about enjoying the screams of people fed to alligators.” Fab upped the growling noise, directing it into his ear.
Ronnie shook his head.
“Do you understand?” Fab shook him. He mumbled something that satisfied Fab. “Drop. The. Charges. I’d better hear tomorrow, latest the next day, that you’ve contacted the prosecutor and informed their office of your intent.”
“Yesss, I will,” he squealed.
Fab shoved his face into the corner. “Count to twenty-five before leaving. Stay away from Joseph’s place; the owner shoots trespassers.” She gave him one last hard shake.
Fab motioned to me, and we ran back to the SUV and jumped inside. “Scoot down. I don’t want him getting any pictures or our tag number.”
“Do you think he’ll drop the charges?” I asked, peering over the dashboard.
“He peed himself.” Fab scrunched up her nose. “I’m thinking he doesn’t want another visit and has enough problems with Dilly on his trail. Another thing in our favor, since Dilly’s involved, Butthead won’t be stupid enough to involve the cops.”
“What the heck has Joseph gotten himself into?”
“I’m guessing that Butthead, who works for Dilly, somehow ended up with Joseph on his crew and something went south. Let’s hope Joseph wasn’t stupid enough to steal from Dilwen, because even if he did pay him back, there would be painful retribution. Likely case, Joseph ends up dead.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Fab rocketed into the driveway of The Cottages, pulling up in front of Joseph’s cottage, which she’d never done before. Which was probably the reason Mac came running out of the office. That the woman ever managed to get any work done…was a neat trick.
Fab jumped out and beat on Joseph’s door with her fist, getting no answer. I rounded the bumper and asked Mac, “Where is he?”
“Sleeping by the pool. What’s he done now?”
I breezed by her without answering, walking around the corner and into the pool area. “Why is the gate open? Find the offender and revoke their pool privileges. All I need is for the deputy living here to cite me for unsafe conditions.” I stood at the end of Joseph’s chaise and kicked his slipper-clad foot.
He cracked open one eyelid. “Go away. I’m tired.” Closing his eye, he let out a loud snort. If he thought it came across as a snore, he was wrong, and he wasn’t a cat. No human went back to sleep that fast.
I leaned over. “We’d like to have a chat with you about your relationship with a loan shark. Do you want to do it out here?”
He covered his face with his arms. “One of the conditions of working for him was keeping my trap shut. If he finds out I talked, it will happen sooner and be more painful.”
I knotted my hand in his shirt and jerked him into an upright position.
“You’re wrinkling my shirt,” he whined, brushing his hands down the front of the already wrinkled and stained excuse for clothing.
“I want to know why you’re into Dilwen Nash for 5K.” I sat in the chair Mac pushed up behind me, Fab on one side, Mac on the other.
Mac gasped. “You’re stupider than I thought.”
“Five thousand!” Joseph screeched. “You’re wrong. It’s five hundred.” He tilted back in a half-faint.
“That’s some steep interest,” Fab said.
“Listen,” Joseph whined. “It had nothing to do with gambling. It was a legit job. I hired on as a runner, picking up money and delivering it to Ronnie. I’d only worked for him for a couple of days, and the other night, after making my pickup, I got held up and robbed. Reported it right away to Ronnie, who showed up here and hauled me over for a face-to-face with Dilly.” He winced. “Dilly told me I let him down and had to make it up by recovering the money, no excuses.”
“Good ol’ Dilly have any tips f
or how you were supposed to accomplish that feat?” Fab asked.
“I just remember agreeing to everything he said, hoping to get out in one piece. And I did, sort of. One of his muscle jerked me up by the scruff of my neck and pitched me out the door. A bunch of scrapes is better than death.” He brushed off his sleeves.
“That’s one of the down sides of being in the collection business,” I said with no sympathy. “How did you hook up with Dilly?”
“I can’t say.” He continued to moan and groan.
Fab jumped up, jerking him upright and getting in his face. “Oh yes, you will. We’ve done a lot to help you, and you’re not going to brush us off with your lameness. Try it, and I’ll stick my shoe up your backside,” she said ferociously. “Then you’ll owe me because I’ll have to trash them.” She let him go, and he landed back on the chaise with a bounce.
Mac giggled and held out her foot, smiling at her Crocs. “You could use one of mine.”
“Name?” I yelled, loud enough that I expected a guest, or Crum on the other side of the pool, to stick their head out the bathroom window.
“Crum got me the job.” He whimpered. “He knew I needed the money. The first night was easy-peasy, and the next, I got shoved face down and the money snatched out of my pocket.”
“How many of these pick-up jobs did you go out on?” I asked.
Joseph held up two fingers.
I rolled my eyes and got even more irked when I leaned back and there was no headrest. “I smell a setup.” I looked at Fab.
Fab sniffed the air. “Me too.”
“Tell Crum to get out here,” I said to Mac.
“Do I have to be polite?”
“No, you do not. If he hesitates in the slightest, shoot off one of his toes. The more he dawdles, the more toes come off. You run out, oops, there goes his foot.”
Joseph winced.
Fab shot me a thumbs up.
Mac drew her imaginary six-shooters and emptied the barrels, complete with sound effects, walked to Crum’s cottage, and beat on the door with her fist.
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