I lowered my head and took a deep breath.
“Good, that’s settled,” Mother said.
We said a group good-bye.
“Thanks.” Fab motioned for me to get into my SUV to finish our conversation. “I know you called Spoon so I wouldn’t do anything drastic if you weren’t around to keep an eagle eye on me. Not that I’m not still thinking about it. But it’s a better plan than the one I concocted. I had two, really.”
I closed my eyes, taking a breath. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“Plan A was to follow you to Creole’s. That had me a little worried since you drive so slow, I figured you see me.”
“You promised,” I hissed.
Creole’s beach hideaway was off-limits to everyone but me. He guarded his privacy. I understood that; he didn’t want anyone he’d ever arrested showing up.
“I didn’t do it,” Fab pointed out in exasperation. “Once the subject of where to stay came up, I was determined that we weren’t splitting up. So this works out perfectly. Even at home, it’s mostly just the three of us. Creole sneaks in and out at odd hours. He can do that on the boat.”
“Your backup plan?”
“Tie you up and drag you back to Miami. I had second thoughts on that one—what if I got pulled over? I’d need you to make up a story for me, and I wasn’t sure you’d come through after I treated you so shabbily.” Fab smiled slyly.
Fab and I jumped out of the SUV. For once, there would be no argument about who was driving, as we both needed to get our cars to the boat.
Billy joined us. “I’ve got this worked out. I’ll keep you updated if anything happens.”
“If you have any problems,” I said to Billy, “call, and I’ll send her.” I motioned to Fab.
Fab jerked on my arm, escorting me back to the SUV. “Warning: I’m following, so no detours.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I saluted.
Chapter Four
Two days later, while sitting out on the deck of the boat, Fab announced to Didier and me that she and I had an early morning meeting with Brick. After she promised to stop at our favorite coffee place on the way, I didn’t ask any questions and just agreed.
Brick Famosa was Fab’s oldest client, and she stayed loyal to the man despite the fact that he often misled her on cases, which on more than one occasion had resulted in an exchange of gunfire.
To my surprise, living in the close quarters of the boat had been easy so far. The cats had acclimated quickly to the smaller space; Jazz and Snow had sniffed around and, fulfilling Spoon’s prediction, had shown no interest in what was on the other side of the railings. They spent a lot of time on their backs in the sun. Creole had stayed both nights, but this morning, he’d had to leave while it was still dark outside.
Didier hugged Fab. “Remember, it’s okay to say no to the bastard.”
Tucked away at Creole’s, I would have missed mornings with the hot, shirtless Frenchman. His blue eyes flashed in my direction, letting me know I was also being reminded to be careful.
“You’re lucky Mother didn’t show up again this morning or you’d be explaining why she couldn’t tag along,” I teased Fab. Mother had stopped by the last two mornings on the pretense of bringing coffee, when what she wanted was updates and to ogle Didier. “Or would you out Spoon, telling Mother he asked, or rather demanded, that we not involve her in any of our schemes, which he politely changed to jobs, without telling her he was the one to suggest it?”
“I hope I’m smart enough not to tread that slope.” Fab grimaced. “But a girl can get desperate.”
“I’d swoop in and save you. You can be assured that Spoon would heap the blame on both of us.”
Didier laughed. “Another thing Creole and I agree on: you two are better off working together than going off on your own.” He stared at Fab until she squirmed.
“I agree,” she conceded and scooted closer to him.
Jazz wound his way through my legs, meowing, he wanted a lift up to the island. He smelled food and even though he’d never eat a muffin, he wanted to sniff one and decide for himself. Snow was only interested in her morning tuna; any other food tidbits didn’t interest her.
“The new lawyer called, a Ms. Hayley,” I updated Fab. “She got us an emergency hearing before a judge at the end of the week. The woman is impressive. She put an investigator on the case and on the man, Donte Prince, who signed the lease. Turns out his business address is a PO Box. The notary was questioned and, for a few bucks, supplied the address she’d copied off his driver’s license into her official book, which turned out to be an empty lot.”
Fab perked up. “With that information, can Ms. Hayley get the house back?”
“She thinks our best bet is that Carbine isn’t stupid enough to show up in court and risk leaving in handcuffs.”
“I hate this waiting,” Fab grouched.
“Me too.” Didier’s eyes flashed. “It seems the laws are more accommodating for the criminal, while you’re left to hire a lawyer to get back what Carbine essentially stole.”
“Here’s the best part. She cooed over and extolled Cruz’s virtues.” I grimaced. “Before you ask, I ignored her, not bothering to mention she was wasting her time, and got off the phone. I’ve met his wife—another gorgeous couple—totally in love.” I smiled at Fab.
“Didier’s it for me.” She spoke directly to him. “I never imagined I’d be so lucky.”
* * *
We left Didier sitting in a lounge chair, busy on his laptop and awaiting a business call. He’d confided that he and my brother, Brad, were looking for another property. The current project was almost finished, and they already had a buyer. In a couple of days, they’d be setting up a meeting with their investors, who consisted of family members and significant others.
Fab blew into the driveway of Famosa Motors, illegally parking the SUV in front of the roll-up doors. It was too early for the slick salesmen to be waiting to pounce on a possible buyer. The owner, Fab’s biggest client, Brick Famosa, liked to hold these meetings early in the morning.
Fab jerked my hand back from playing with the night bell, shooting me one of Mother’s “behave” looks. We came to a halt in front of the reception desk. In place of the usual irritating bosomy blonde sat a woman with spiky, fluorescently red hair. No one would ask if the color was natural.
“Good morning, ladies.” The woman stood. “Ms. Merceau and Ms. Westin, I presume. Mr. Famosa is expecting you.” She waved to the stairs.
I craned my neck upward, guessing the Amazon to be every bit of six feet tall. She didn’t have the signature double D’s of the previous receptionist, which I’d always thought were a job requirement, but was still curvy without the aforementioned assets. Men would still find her hot; the ones she didn’t scare off, anyway. She exuded a “kick your ass without breaking a sweat” aura.
Fab recovered from her surprise before I did. “Where’s, uh… Bitsy.” She glanced over at me.
“Mitsy, the poor dear, had a sickness in the family, and she’s taken time off.” She extended her hand to Fab. “I’m Everly Lynch.”
I bit back a laugh; good story, and I didn’t believe a word. Good riddance to Bitsy, whatever the reason.
Fab ignored her hand. “Don’t screw us, and we’ll get along fine.”
“You’ll be pleased at my level of professionalism.” Her smile was perfect, a dentist’s dream.
“Were you promoted from the… uh… Gentleman’s Club?” I almost said strip joint. We were making a lousy first impression, but based on previous experience, we had every right to be leery until we knew her better.
Brick owned a variety of businesses; pawn shops, bail bonds, if there was cold cash to be made, he was in, and it didn’t bother him that most people found them seedy and turned up their noses.
Everly laughed, her eyes narrowed. “I got
this job by good old nepotism.”
“Good luck,” I said and found I meant it.
Fab eyed her up and down, as though sizing up an adversary.
Just then, Brick pounded on the window of his second-floor office, putting an end to our girl-bonding gone awry. He had a one-hundred-eighty-degree view of the lot and the busy boulevard running through the upscale commercial district.
Fab pulled me toward the stairs. We walked up sedately instead of making it a race, jumping and laughing all the way.
“Everly’s very different, looks-wise, from Bitsy,” I whispered. “The male clients won’t be disappointed. She’s so striking—it’s hard to take your eyes off her. Nothing bimbo about that woman.”
“Did you see her shoes? Lime-green stilettos.”
Everly had paired the eye-catching shoes with a sedate black suit. She reeked sexiness without having it on display. There was also an impression of scariness that gave one pause.
I wanted to laugh at Fab’s sigh. “Just the shoes will have the male customers thinking dirty thoughts.” She pushed me through the door of Brick’s office first and followed.
“Thanks for coming so early.” He slid the coveted snack bowl across his desk to within arm’s reach of us both, then settled his massive frame into a custom chair. Not an ounce of fat on this dark-haired, dark-eyed Cuban. He waved us into chairs in front of his desk and handed us each a bottled water.
“This case must stink if you’re buttering us up with sweets, which you usually only share after threats from us to leave.” I noticed he’d added an amateur boxing trophy to his collection of plaques awarded for good deeds.
“I’m setting a new tone for these meetings. You do your part and lose the snarkiness.” Brick opened a folder and withdrew a sheet of paper, shoving it across the desk. “Here’s the pertinent information.”
“This is a name and address.” Fab frowned. “Puny, in terms of full disclosure. You know the rules our boyfriends set for us working for you. I’m not ignoring them and risking losing Didier.”
I half-expected Fab would add a foot stamp, and it disappointed me when she didn’t. I kept a straight face, knowing that Creole had explained those rules in detail to Brick and then blacked his eye.
“You’ll need this too.” He handed over another sheet.
I intercepted it. “Tomorrow.” I read the note at the top of the page. “Nothing like the last minute.”
The big man ignored me, as he was wont to do.
“Look, this is a freebie, a friend of the ‘family.’” Brick must have noticed the flash of anger on Fab’s face. “I’m paying you,” he reassured her. “Letty Gill is an old, boozy drunk who lives in the middle Keys. She’s racked up several drunken misdemeanor charges and needs an escort to court. Her brother is afraid if Letty doesn’t show up, she’ll get a long jail sentence and it will kill her.”
“How old is old?” I asked.
“Well, her brother’s nearly seventy, and he’s her younger brother, so she has to be north of that. She’s never had a felony charge or anything violent.” Brick’s cell phone rang. He looked down and scowled, sending it to voicemail. “She’s just a dumb drunk. The last charge was for driving drunk; her car broke down out on the highway, and she decided to dance home in the middle of traffic.”
“Any reason Letty or anyone else would want to shoot at us?” Fab asked.
“No, she’s harmless, by all reports. A minimalist dresser, according to the ‘drunk and naked in public’ charge. You get the idea.”
“I’m surprised that didn’t garner a felony sex charge, making it mandatory for her to register as a sex offender,” I said.
Brick stood and grabbed a clothing bag from the coat rack. “There’s a dress in here for her court appearance. So we’re good.” Brick laid the bag across the corner of his desk and sat back down, his polite way of saying “meeting over.”
Neither of us took the hint. “Where’s Bitsy?” I asked.
“Sick family member,” he grunted. “I think Everly is going to work out great, don’t you?”
“I think she could kick your ass if you’re not careful.” I stood and flicked my finger through the bowl. “Cookies?”
He shot me a disgusted look and pointed to his office door. “In our new get-along spirit, stay off the banister. You fall, and my insurance premiums will go up.”
I picked up the garment bag and followed Fab.
Fab ignored Brick’s instructions, flinging her jean-clad leg over the banister and riding to the bottom. She was always dressed for fun; in my skirt, my butt would show all the way down.
Everly was outside, in deep conversation with a salesman I didn’t recognize. Fab paused and watched the two for a moment, then steered us in a different direction so that we wouldn’t cross paths.
She slid into the driver’s seat and nodded toward the new receptionist, saying, “What do you make of Spike?”
“I think Everly is permanent and that Bitsy, despite many opportunities, wasn’t capable of learning from past mistakes. Brick maintained a pretty controlled demeanor when we started asking questions. The whole sick-family story was BS. But I’m happy her departure had nothing to do with either of us. Everly is no slick, big-boobed blonde; there’s more to her than atrocious hair color.”
“We should order a background check on Spike. Something feels off.”
“Feelings! I must be rubbing off on you.” I grinned.
Fab ignored me. “You’re in charge of planning this next job.”
“Why me?”
“Letty’s old, a drunk, and female; she could be Miss January’s twin. You already have the hands-on experience and skill with alcoholics—male and female. You’ll get her to court in one sober piece, and if it makes you feel better, I’ll supervise and then take credit.”
Miss January was a long-time tenant at The Cottages, a rental property that I owned in Tarpon Cove. I’d helped her out, but I’d never been responsible for getting her dressed and to court. I’d say a prayer that Letty was sober when we showed up. If not, we’d have to call her in sick; showing up drunk in front of a judge would guarantee her incarceration.
My phone beeped. I read the message and groaned. “New tenant. He’s cute.”
Chapter Five
Fab slowed as she drove past The Cottages, where the long-term renters and vacation guests were partying together in the driveway. She hooked a U-turn and parked in the driveway of the yellow house across the street. Now that my property manager, Mac, and an ex-tenant, Shirl, had bought the duplex, we had carte blanche to park in the driveway or sit on the front porch, with its view of my property. It made it easier for Mac to keep an eagle eye on the comings and goings over there from her living room window when she wasn’t in the office.
“No.” I poked Fab’s arm. “Back in, so we can see better.” She ignored me and killed the engine.
Ten individual units made up The Cottages, built around a U-shaped driveway, each one brightly painted in a different color. The partygoers were getting their drunk on early, ignoring the two separate areas to drink and dance—the large pool area on one side and the barbeque pit in the opposite corner.
“You first.” Fab pointed to the passenger door.
We both got out and crossed the street. Mac, who’d seen our arrival, strutted over to meet us as we stepped into the driveway. I was happy that it was a subdued group and that their noise wasn’t echoing out into the road, thereby ensuring a sheriff’s department call.
Macklin Lane stood in front of me in a white gauze tent dress that she’d cinched at the waist with a piece of rope, pulling it up to the tops of her black biker boots.
“What’s going on?” I asked in exasperation.
“The newest tenant, Rocks Johnson, is a wine distributor, and he’s hosting a tasting to get to know everyone. He even brought food.�
�� Mac pointed to a table under the basketball hoop.
At the end of the driveway stood Liam; corn chip in hand, he waved. Even though he was a teenager, he’d become the most reliable source of information on comings and goings in the neighborhood.
Mother and I had already unofficially adopted Liam, whose mother, Julie, was dating my brother. They were the first two I rented to after I took over management of The Cottages. They were planning to move when Brad and Didier finished renovating the apartment building they were working on. I wondered if that project would be sped up now that they had a buyer.
“I was so impressed when Rocks showed up in a suit, business card in hand, the whole works.” Mac blushed when she saw Fab’s and my looks of disbelief.
“Did you at least run a check on him?” I asked.
“You’re always telling me that I have a good BS detector,” Mac reminded me. “I have a good feeling about this one.”
I groaned inwardly. I had a feeling also, and it wasn’t good.
Fab poked me in the back. We both knew that Mac not answering meant she’d let Rocks move in when all she knew was what he told her. We’d learned from past experience that the bigger the pat on the back a renter gave himself, the bigger the problem they turned out to be.
A tall, well-built man approached in a pair of flowery board shorts, a suit coat unbuttoned to show off his bare, tanned muscular chest, and a striped tie. He bowed and ran his hands through his light-brown hair.
“Rocks Johnson.” He stuck out his hand and eyed Fab like a delicious morsel. “I hear you’re the owner.”
Fab ignored his extended hand. “Tell me about yourself. Start with whether Rocks is an alias.”
He laughed in a smug, arrogant way. “I changed it after my wine line started selling. Great marketing idea, don’t you think?”
“I didn’t know they had vineyards in Florida. What’s the name of your wine?” Fab flashed an arrogant look of her own.
“There are a few,” I said.
Rocks gave me a quick glance and dismissed me, turning back to Fab. I made a face at Mac. He put his arm around Fab, and she knocked it off. Not deterred, he extended his elbow, which she also ignored. “Let me pour you a glass of our bestseller.”
Hurricane in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 10) Page 3