“If I have my way, I’m going pull a chaise out onto Fab’s private beach and catch up on some paperwork. Get her to wait on me. Serve me lunch.”
“Take a page from Fab’s playbook and just make yourself at home.” Creole laughed again. “When she comes stomping out to find out what’s going on, place your order.”
“I’m hoping for a relaxing day off and hoping that Fab agrees.”
“And you’ll call me if an unexpected three-alarm fire breaks out.”
I placed my finger on his lips. “No drama today.”
My phone rang again. Creole reached out and grabbed it, looking at the screen. “Wonder what he wants?” He handed it to me.
It was Spoon. “The call is on speaker,” I said. “Creole is here.”
“Wanted you to know I uncovered your mother’s latest scheme. I’m calling to quash the suggestion of you interrogating her.”
“I don’t have to worry about an ambush date in the near future?”
“After some intense questioning, she confessed to planning a surprise for me.” Spoon laughed. “In fact, we’re renewing our vows. I wouldn’t have thought of it myself, but if it makes her happy, I like the idea.”
Creole covered his face with a pillow.
“Then I’m happy for the two of you.”
“How’s your doctor friend doing?” Spoon asked.
I told him about the earlier call, and he agreed with Creole that keeping Dr. A’s exact whereabouts a secret was a good idea. “One more thing; if you’d let your mother meddle in your life a little more, that would make her happy and me very happy.” He laughed and hung up.
“Vow renewal my ass. He’s so snookered,” Creole said. “My advice to him would be to keep his eyes open. Your mother’s a slick one. She could easily be Fab’s bio mom.”
“Brad and I agreed a long time ago that had Fab been a sibling, we’d have gotten into far more trouble, and she would’ve skated, leaving us facing the consequences.”
He rolled over, taking me with him. Picking me up, he carried me into the bathroom. “Time for a shower.”
* * *
After getting a text from Fab that she had appointments and would be over later with lunch, I tossed the duvet haphazardly over the white sheets, smooshed up the pillows, and climbed into the middle of the bed with my tote bag. So much for my plans for the day. I pulled out a couple of reports that I hadn’t read yet and the envelope left behind by the elusive Nicolette. I wasn’t expecting it to answer my multitude of questions, but any insight would be helpful.
The paperwork in the envelope consisted of an accumulation of receipts and pages of notes that, at first glance, appeared to be in some kind of shorthand known only to the author. Staring at it, I realized that she’d put together a lazy person’s spreadsheet. The first column was a list of names, nicknames perhaps, with names like Hawk, Buzz, and my favorite, A-Kisser. The next column, amounts in kilos, with the same coding as used on the packages we found in the lockbox. The last column, total sales. Loosely running the numbers in my head, I reached the conclusion that she’d moved a lot of drugs in the last few months.
Tossing it all aside, I picked up a pink diary with a lock that didn’t work, expecting to find the ramblings of a child or pre-teen—something she’d saved that had sentimental value—but was surprised to instead see that it started when she came to Florida. I read on. Nicolette had moved to South Florida two years previous and hooked up with Dilwen Nash, of all people. They’d been a couple up until several months back, when she left him for the good doctor. Dilwen had been the one to introduce her to drugs, but not as a dealer. She was the one who took it to the next step, according to her notes. More surprising entries—she’d purchased a property that she’d kept secret from both her lovers and, to that end, had bought it under the name of a trust she’d formed for that purpose. Halfway through the diary, the entries ended. Flipping the pages, I discovered she’d cut a square into the last half and inside the cubbyhole was a key and a USB drive.
There was a kicking noise on the back door. It opened, and Fab yelled, “I brought tacos.”
“You’ve got to stop barging in,” I yelled back. “One of these days, Creole is going to forget that he likes you.”
Fab peeked around the corner from the kitchen. “You’re still in bed!”
I rolled off the side and crossed the room. “I’m dressed. And hungry.” Fab didn’t think cropped sweatpants and a t-shirt qualified as clothing, but I did. I slid onto a stool and ripped open the bag she shoved in my direction, licking my lips at the tray of mini tacos.
Fab took the bag out from under my leering eyes and arranged the tacos on a plate, setting it between us and handing me a smaller plate. She got glasses out of the cupboard, filled them with iced tea, then pulled out a stool and sat across from me.
I made a lick-smacking noise that earned me a glare, which I ignored. “I need you to drive me to Islamorada this afternoon.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“Forget I asked. I’ll go by myself.”
“You’re always tricking me.” Fab eyed me like a bug that had appeared out of nowhere.
I reached in my pocket and set the key on the counter.
Fab pushed it around with her finger. “This key tell a story?”
“It does. But since you’re busy…”
“You’re telling me that you’re going to try out what is definitely a door key, and you’re going alone? Baloney.”
I tried my best not to laugh. “Have you ever even eaten lunch meat?”
Her nose shot in the air. She stood and wrapped the leftovers, putting them in the refrigerator and dumping the trash, then pocketed the key. “You can give me the details in the car. I’m not in the mood for long-winded today.”
The cats, who’d been asleep on the end of the bed, jumped down to investigate. The smell of food must have woken them up, since little else did. They wound their way around Fab’s legs, which she responded to by opening the refrigerator and retrieving a can of gourmet feline food. They had her trained; no howling necessary.
“Give me two minutes.” I crossed to the bed, scooped up the paperwork, and shoved it back in the tote. Then I went into the closet and changed into a jean skirt and shoved my feet into tennis shoes.
When I came out, Fab was remaking the bed, which had me laughing. “You couldn’t have done any worse of a job,” she said. “It’s a duvet; you could’ve at least gotten it on straight.”
I ignored her and stared down at her shoes. “This might very well turn out to be a day for tennis shoes.”
Fab tossed the last pillow in place, happy with her job. “I have shoes in the car.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Fab led the way to the SUV. “Since I’m being so accommodating…” She slid behind the wheel. “I’ll need you for a job tomorrow.”
“Accommodating? That’s not the word I’d use.” I entered the address into the GPS.
“A woman client this time.”
“Let’s hope she’s not going to frame you for a crime.” I loved how Fab tuned out any of my comments she didn’t want to hear.
“It’s a stakeout. She has a cheating husband and wants proof.”
“So…what? We sit in a hot car and play cards and eat junk food while cheater enjoys himself in air conditioning?”
Instead of answering, Fab said, “Where are we going?” Which I deduced meant I was right, or close enough.
“Nicolette’s house.” I told her about the diary and everything I’d read.
“Dilwen Nash. Notice his name keeps cropping up lately?” Fab shook her head. “Some women can’t stop themselves from choosing trouble. Except she moved on to Dr. A, who seems like a stable guy and definitely on the opposite end of the spectrum from Dilwen. If you found the house, then you can bet Dilwen knows about it, and we don’t want to run into him.”
“Possibly not. She bought it through a trust, making it harder to find. If, for some reason
, he did run a property search, it wouldn’t come up under her name, not without some digging. The only reason I was able to get the address was because I had the name of the trust.” My phone rang, and it was Doc Rivers. “I’m happy you called,” I said upon answering.
“Just wanted you to know that Stan’s sedated and recovering slowly. He came through surgery better than I thought he would. I had the name changed on his room, so anyone wanting to visit or calling will think he’s been released, or whatever…” Doc’s voice trailed off. “Three broken ribs, a punctured lung, compound fracture to the left arm, fractured cheekbones, and a concussion,” he rattled off injuries that had me cringing.
Fab listened without a flinch of expression.
“I’m happy to hear the good news.” I didn’t need to tell him that I’d called and wondered and worried. “I can have a cleaning crew sent over to his house, so he doesn’t have to go home to a mess.”
Fab slugged me in the shoulder and I winced. She mouthed, “No.”
“How bad is it? I thought about going over but haven’t yet.”
“Don’t you worry,” I reassured him. “I’ll have it taken care of.”
“I’ll owe you.”
“That’s nonsense. You just get Dr. A back on his feet.”
“I’ll keep in touch.”
“I’d like that.” We hung up.
“Besides the bit where you’re not supposed to get involved, you should make darn sure Dr. A’s place has been released as a crime scene before sending anyone over there,” Fab reminded me.
“I’d forgotten. What I’ll do is suggest that Doc Rivers clear it with the attorney and refer him to Cook.”
“Did you happen to tell Creole that you ferreted out Nicolette’s secret hideaway?” Fab smirked. “Oh…and that you planned to visit?”
“I’ll let you break it to Creole and Didier at the same time, since you haven’t called your husband…yet.”
“I’m the innocent party,” she stated in exaggerated shock. “I had no clue about your harebrained scheme until we were almost to Islamorada. Make that turning into the driveway of the house.”
“Nobody would believe you.” I concentrated on our upcoming turn, wanting to make sure she didn’t miss it. “Once we’re on Nicolette’s street, I say we cruise it from one end to the other, scope out the property and neighborhood in general. Then park somewhere else and make our way back on foot.”
“It’s not the worst idea.” Fab flashed a sneaky smile. “I’d say park in the driveway, since we know Nicolette is dead, but it leaves us exposed. Perhaps, across the street between two property lines. Once we get to the door, what’s the plan if someone answers?”
“Forget claiming to be friends. Can’t risk them knowing we’re lying. I’ve got handouts in the back in support of animal rescue; we can—” At her raised eyebrow, I switched that to, “I can solicit for a donation.”
“Using poor animals like that…” Fab frowned.
“You know damn well I’d donate any money we managed to shake out of someone. Most likely, they’ll slam the door in our face.”
“If the latter happens, then what?” At my shrug, she suggested, “A stakeout, perhaps, and wait until they leave the property.”
“That’s breaking and entering and certain jail time.”
Fab turned onto a narrow street, manicured houses on each side. “If we manage to get inside, what are we looking for?”
“Since it’s clear that Nicolette was a dealer or, even stupider, stealing drugs off someone, I’m hoping to find something that will clear Dr. A and point the finger at her. I should’ve asked Creole what kind of evidence it would take to get the charges against Dr. A dropped. But I chickened out, since I’m not supposed to have any interest in this case.” Creole wasn’t going to be happy to find out about this excursion.
“You could ask Lucas, since he’s Dr. A’s lawyer.” Fab made a face. “That’s another thing the guys won’t like. Creole took an instant dislike to the man and shared his opinion with Didier, who, after meeting him, shares the opinion.”
Fab cruised slowly down the residential street, and we checked out the multi-story houses that lined the road, staying alert in case we attracted unwanted attention.
Nicolette’s property was the last one on the dead-end street, which ended in front of a boat launch area with a small parking lot. The grey wood frame house, which sat on stilts, had white trim, a red front door, and a large deck that wrapped around it and overlooked an inlet. The house was small in comparison to the rest on the block but didn’t lack for curb appeal.
Fab turned and circled the block, coming back and parking at the boat ramp. She powered down the backside window, scoping out the area.
“Cute house,” I said. “Location, location, location. She bought extra privacy, being at the end of the block, and the other houses aren’t stacked on top of one another. It’s a plus when the neighbors can’t peer in your windows.” I turned in my seat and stared out the back window. “Do you think we’ll attract attention parking here?” It appeared that the residents each had their own dock and this area was seldom used.
“This isn’t the kind of neighborhood where we can park randomly and have it go unnoticed.” Duh in her tone. “Got your plan worked out?”
“I can handle it from here,” I said. “You stay in the car. Call me if anyone shows up.” I slid out and shut the door on any response.
A car door closed behind me, and Fab walked alongside me, ignoring my attitude. “Some days, you make me want to tear your hair out.”
“Not today. We’ve been spared frizz-inducing humidity, and it looks halfway decent.”
“I say we cut around the bushes.” Fab grabbed my arm and detoured me to the side. “Since I’m certain, due to your ’tude, that you don’t have a plan, I’ve improvised. We’ll knock.”
“On the back door? That’s where this is leading…that’s if we get on our hands and knees and crawl under the hedge.” I whipped out my hand. “You first.”
“It was worth a try.” Fab hip-bumped me, and we reversed course. It was a hundred steps to the driveway and one last look at the street before turning in. “Assuming we get no answer, we go in and have a look around. If someone does open up, you take over and improvise.”
“No noises when I launch into my missing cat story.”
“I admit it—it works. The whole pet thing. No one has ever questioned us.”
“I like this house,” I said as we climbed the steps. I eyed the cute patio furniture and approved of Nicolette’s choice. The chairs looked comfortable.
Fab knocked politely, avoiding the brass knocker. Both of us listened intently, not hearing a sound. She knocked again, taking the key out of her pocket. It fit. The door opened.
Before stepping over the threshold, I turned and got the elevated view of the block. All was quiet. I closed the door behind me.
We stood in a living room/dining room that encompassed the large space, an open kitchen to the left. It was decorated in comfortable-looking white oversized furniture, all the pieces placed to take advantage of the view of the deck and water below. She’d chosen a nautical theme, which I loved.
A short hallway led to two bedrooms, one outfitted as an office. At the end was a large bathroom—recently renovated, judging by its appearance—with a walk-in shower and claw-foot tub.
“Who gets this house?” Fab pulled gloves out of her back pocket, tossing me a pair.
I snapped on the gloves. “I’d buy it as is,” I said, admiring the view.
“Over your dead body,” Fab growled.
“I’m just complimenting the woman on her choice and her taste in decorating.”
“Did the family claim her body?” Fab asked over her shoulder, heading to a large shuttered cabinet.
“I didn’t hear anything about a funeral, but then, we didn’t come into this until after Dr. A was arrested and there would’ve already been a funeral.”
Opening the shutter
s, Fab whistled, looking over Nicolette’s computer setup, which included a large-screen television, a stand-alone processing tower, and two computer monitors. “Nice setup.” She pulled out the chair. “The mystery deepens. What was she into?”
“I’ll leave you to your electronic snooping, since it’s over my head.” I turned and headed back down the hallway, stepping through the first open door. At first glance, due to the desk overlooking the window, I’d assumed it was an office, but it did double-duty as a guest bedroom, and she’d continued the nautical theme. The bed was dressed in navy and white, and the only touch of anything personal was the bookcase. No houseplants. I chuckled to myself, opening the closet doors. Empty.
I headed to the bookcase to check out the framed photos. None were of her and Dr. A. I bent down and perused the bottom shelf, which held a set of leather-bound encyclopedias reminiscent of two editions that I’d scored at a flea market. I’d bet that hers had the same secret feature as mine. I sat cross-legged on the floor, taking one off the shelf, and opened the cover, finding a safe box inside. Inside was a black diary. Thumbing through the pages, I saw that the woman kept meticulous notes of her business dealings. It wasn’t unlike the one I’d already found but in more detail. No code names this time—she’d written down first and last names. I put it back exactly as I found it.
I pulled out the rest of the books one by one, opening and replacing them. The first three held diaries, and the rest were crammed with hundred-dollar bills. The woman had a preference when it came to cash. I pulled out my phone, snapping pictures, unsure what to do with the finds. This time, we weren’t taking possession. When I was done, I double-checked that everything lined up where I’d found it.
Fab appeared in the doorway. “At a quick glance at Nicolette’s files, the woman documented everything she did in life and who she interacted with, complete with pictures and some video. She’s got several external drives stacked on the shelf, and if they’re even half-full, it’s a lot of information. What do you want to do?”
Overdose in Paradise Page 18