“Hey, Auntie.” Liam showed up at my side and whispered, “I don’t think it’s real wine. Tastes like…” He stuck out his tongue.
“Where are Joseph and Miss January?” I asked.
Both were tenants who I’d inherited with the property. The doctors had served each of them up a death sentence a long time ago, sending them home to put their affairs in order. In response, they’d toasted that proclamation with liquor and a cigarette.
“I found Miss January standing on the corner, weaving around in a circle. I ditched my bicycle in the bushes and helped her home.” Liam checked out her porch. “Didn’t want her to fall, so I helped her to her cottage. I’m sure she passed out two seconds after she lay down on the couch.” He scanned the driveway. “Joseph gulped a bottle of that wine. Not long after, he puked in the bushes and went inside, clutching his gut.”
“He better not have killed my flowers,” I grouched.
Liam leaned in and kissed my cheek. “It smells over there.”
Just great.
Liam’s phone beeped and a minute later, he waved and headed to the beach. I moved within a foot of the table, as I wanted to have a good vantage point to watch Rocks charm Fab. He poured her a glass of wine. True to form, Fab took a sniff. First, she scowled, then held the glass up and eyed the contents, finally taking a drink. Seconds later, she blew it all over Rocks’ chest.
Rocks jumped back but not quickly enough, the liquid spraying his bare chest. It made me wonder if others had spit out his wine. Good thing he had on a black suit jacket—no stains, or none that would show anyway.
“What the hell is this?” Fab screeched out in a snit, checking the front of her top. “Don’t tell me this is wine because if it is, it’s terrible.”
Rocks wiped down his chest with his hand and then ran it over the butt of his swim trunks.
None of the partygoers said a word. All eyes had been trained on Fab from the moment she lifted her glass, and when she yelled, no one said anything; a few even looked away. One older couple, fear on their faces, propelled themselves from their chairs and snuck around the back of the nearest cottage, circling back to their own. Their door slammed behind them.
Fab picked the bottle up off the table. “This has a screw cap,” she said in disdain.
I pinched Mac’s arm. “If there is any trouble, I’m holding you responsible. And you will be the one to send him packing.”
The sound of a driver revving his engine turned my attention to the street. A strange pickup truck moving too fast squealed into the driveway and right up under the basketball court, sending the food table flipping against the fence. An unidentified man jumped up from the bed of the truck, gun in hand, and shot the wine bottles displayed on another table to bits, sending glass flying in all directions. Everyone dove for cover.
Fab and I hit the ground, rolling over with our handguns out. The man still standing had no interest in anyone but Rocks. He turned towards the man and took a point-blank shot. The gun only clicked, empty. “You steal from me, and you will pay,” the man yelled. “You won’t be so lucky next time. I promise you, you’ll be meeting your maker.” He banged on the back window, and the driver ground the gears and, in a cloud of smoke, lurched backwards out of the driveway.
“What in the…” I jumped to my feet from where I’d crouched, reholstered my Glock, and stalked over to Rocks, who had lost his footing when the gunman had him in his sights. Fab had pushed him out of the way at the same time the man pulled the trigger. He lay sprawled on the ground, and I gave him a swift kick in the butt. “What the hell just happened?”
Fab had crawled behind a tree; unhurt, she stood and brushed dirt off her jeans.
The handful of vacation guests that remained peeked through their fingers from where they’d dropped to the ground and covered their heads.
Rocks attempted to grab my ankle. I stepped back and whipped my gun out again. “Get off this property––now,” I ground out in rising anger. “I don’t know what kind of felonious scam you’re involved in, but you’re not doing it here.”
The color drained from his face. Now unsightly and pasty, he appeared unsettled by his brush with death and about to lose the contents of his stomach, but he still managed to smirk. “I’ve a signed lease. It’s none of your business anyway. Baby Girl owns the property.” He reached out to Fab, not realizing she’d retreated from his side and was now standing a foot away, cell phone in hand, capturing the scene on video. “I’m going to get a restraining order against you.”
I flipped him my middle finger. Baby Girl. Rocks sputtered in outrage. Fab and Mac laughed.
At the sound of sirens rounding the corner, I reholstered my gun once again.
Kevin pulled up into the driveway and chose another space to park in, as his assigned spot was littered with shards of glass. He had become a Cottages tenant when my brother snuck him in after his last place erupted in flames. His neighbor had been cooking drugs and apparently got the recipe wrong. I’d wanted him out since day one, but it hadn’t happened yet. I suspected that if he were given the choice between our frigid relationship and moving, I’d draw the short straw.
Kevin slammed the door of his car and looked around. “It’s been a while since gunshots were reported on this property. Anyone die?”
“Don’t ask me what happened. A man I’ve never seen before sped into the driveway, shot up the wine bottles, then turned his gun on Rocks Johnson over there.” I pointed to the man, who had slithered in the direction of his cottage and now had his hand on the doorknob. Too slow; he’d missed his opportunity to hide inside.
“Rocks,” Kevin shouted. “Have a seat. I have a few questions for you.” He turned back to me. “Let’s hear your side.”
“It seems the shooter had a grudge with your new neighbor. He looked disappointed to leave Rocks standing, but he was out of bullets and hadn’t brought backup. So his truck flew back out of the driveway. That’s all I know.”
The driveway was now clear of everyone; with Kevin’s back turned, they’d all taken cover inside their cottages. Even Mac had beelined for the office. Only Fab, never one to be left out of anything, had remained. One couple was bold enough to raise their blinds. I’d bet if Kevin turned in their direction, they’d hide in the bathroom or the closet.
“He’s a snake oil salesman.” Kevin glared in Rock’s direction. “I thought you weren’t renting to trouble anymore.”
“I’ve been busy trying to get my house back from professional squatters,” I reminded him. “Mac can apparently be charmed by a pretty face. And now he has a lease.”
Kevin grunted. “Pretty, huh? Don’t see it myself.”
“Why are you being so nice?” I asked.
“Because Julie told me it wouldn’t kill me, and so far, it hasn’t.” Kevin chuckled, amusing himself.
Fab stood behind Kevin. Waving her arms, she pointed in the direction of the pool and moved off to one side. Rocks had changed course, apparently figuring the beach was his best escape route.
“You better hustle, or Rocks is going to get away again.”
Kevin looked over his shoulder. “Johnson, stop and turn your ass around,” he thundered. “I’m not going to tell you a third time. Where did the rest of them go? They all snuck off!” he said to me in disgust.
“That couple.” I pointed to cottage two. “Knock nicely. They’re old, and if they keel over from a heart attack, don’t be blaming me.”
“I wouldn’t think of it.” Kevin stomped off.
I was happy not to be Rocks. Kevin’s frustration was at an all-time high, and he was about to show the man just how much.
Fab waited until Kevin turned his back, then crossed the driveway to stand next to me. Mac, who’d appeared out of nowhere, trailed behind her. The three of us stared at one another. I pinched my arm to make sure I hadn’t spaced out and had a ghastly daydream.<
br />
“My forthcoming observation is a freebie; you won’t be receiving a bill.” Fab’s lips quirked. “Time to get rid of Rocks—now. Whatever unfinished business he and the shooter have, the guy in the truck will be back, and you might not be so lucky next time. Someone could end up dead.”
“You.” I frowned at Mac. “Turn on the southern charm and bounce his ass to the street. I’d enjoy getting the job done myself, but I’m sure he’s telling on me for brandishing my weapon, so the usual warnings from Kevin will be forthcoming. If I were Rocks, I’d pack and leave today, but he doesn’t look that smart.”
“When can we go home?” Fab whined, tugging on my top.
I smacked her hand away. “You can leave me here, and I’ll walk.”
“You’re ridiculous.” Fab pouted.
“I’ve got to text Billy.” Mac giggled. “I agreed to keep him in the loop when trouble went down. I may sic Billy on Rocks. He has a way of getting people to do what he wants faster than I can.”
“That’s because he scares the hell out of people.” I closed my eyes and exhaled a deep breath. “How are things with the new boyfriend?”
Facing Mac, Fab snapped. “He better treat you right, or he’ll have two women with guns tracking him. He won’t like it if he opens his eyes one night and we’re staring back.”
Mac got a dreamy smile on her face. “Billy treats me good; he’s always a gentleman. And way better in the sack than my husband ever was. He’s inventive.” She winked. “I keep thinking it will stop being fun, and then he surprises me with something new.”
“I’m happy for you.” I turned to Fab, hoping she’d take the hint and say something nice and be sincere about it.
“Yeah, me too,” she grunted.
Mac smiled back at Fab in a way that conveyed I’ve got such a girl crush on you and I don’t care how rude you are.
Kevin came around the corner. Rocks ran inside his cottage and banged the door shut.
“You got anything to add?” Kevin asked Fab.
She shook her head and made a face in response.
Kevin glanced around, briefly checking the windows of each cottage. “Rocks doesn’t know anything. Never seen the man before. Says he’s a friend of yours.” He squinted at Fab. “Something about you being the owner and trying to make him the fall guy.”
“How does that explain the man pointing his gun at Rocks and not the new owner here?” I gave him a devilish smile.
Kevin paused for a long moment. “You’re not very funny.”
“You know none of that is true,” I said, biting back a laugh. “You live here. You know the regulars, and that the tourists never bring trouble; they only come looking for a ring-side seat.”
“The Cruz family—now there’s a weird bunch.” Kevin rolled his eyes. “The last busload corralled me and wanted to go on a ride-along. They stated a preference for a night that we’d see action.”
“You can do that?” Mac jumped up and down with excitement, already adding that to her bucket list of amusements.
“I’ll tell you what I told them: ‘I’ll arrest you for jaywalking, and you can get an intimate look at the booking process.’ I did tell them that they would probably be released with a ticket to appear. The time for them to worry was if one of them was issued a prison jumpsuit.”
Kevin was clearly amused at most likely scaring the heck out of Cruz’s family. For a brief second, I thought it would be funny to see the look on my esteemed attorney’s face when he was told that his latest batch of visiting relatives had been locked up.
Kevin turned to leave and paused. “Where can I get ahold of you?” he asked me.
“My mother’s.” I’d had that lie rehearsed in advance. “You have my number and Mother’s; you can call either one.”
“Same warning as before; Rocks disappears, and you will be the chief suspect.” He waved and walked back to his car.
“What’s up with him?” Fab asked in a suspicion-laced voice.
“A get-along lecture from his sister. For now, he’s being nice, and we will act in kind.” I shook my finger at her. “But beware, in case he has a swift turnaround and goes back to being a total pain.” I said to Mac, “Convince Rocks that there are more beautiful beaches elsewhere, and he should go seek one out.”
“What about the mess?” Fab nodded to the far end of the lot.
“You two can go; I got it covered.” Mac surveyed the driveway. “I’ll get Crum to put on a skirt, give him the key to the shed, and he’ll be happy to play with the shop vac.”
Crum, a retired college professor, was a tenant who’d come with an impeccable resume and references. Meeting him in person… eccentric was kind; downright weird was more apt.
Fab nudged me. “Where’s Liam?”
“He got a text before the bullets started flying and headed off to the beach to meet up with a friend. Depending how far away he was, he might have heard the shots. I texted him and told him I’d call when it was okay to come back.”
Chapter Six
“Gunshots. No one died. Dinner?” I said out loud as I texted Creole. “He’s not going to be happy to find out after the fact, but there was no advance warning.” I blew out a loud, frustrated sigh, adding in a few more sound effects. “I need to go to Jake’s. If you have other dinner plans, you can drop yourself off at the boat.”
“I’ll call Didier from Jake’s.”
My cell phone rang, Creole’s picture popping up. “That was fast.”
“You okay?” His words were clipped. “Why, after so many requests, am I the last to know that there’s been a shooting?”
“I’m fine. And for your information, you are the first to know, except for Kevin, and he got the call.” My voice went up with every word until I ended in a shout. I hung up on him and threw my phone behind me, wincing when it hit the window. “I need a drink.”
“We’ve got that emergency hearing in two days.” Sitting at the signal, waiting for the green light, Fab revved the engine, and the sports car in the next lane did the same. “We either get the house back legally or I’ve got a posse in mind to scare the hell out of that motley group. The second option being my first choice, but I get that you have to go the legal route.”
I rolled down the window, and when she shot forward, I waved to the guy she’d left behind; he hadn’t made it past the crosswalk.
Fab yanked on the back of my shirt. “Get your head back in here; you know I hate that.”
“The Gulf air in my face… smell it—salty and clean.”
Fab careened into the parking lot of Jake’s. Once a half-owner, I’d bought the rest from the previous owner, who had loan sharks nipping at his heels. I’d inherited the rest of the block from an old-timer who didn’t want to see it sold and replaced with condos; the bar was, so far, my only moneymaker. The old gas station, circa 1940, was now an antique garden store selling assorted junk, as suggested by its name, Junker’s. Fab’s lighthouse sat at the far end, her idea of office space. She’d gotten it free—why take cash for a job when you could get an old building? It was now a tourist attraction; people stopped constantly to have their picture taken. The sign on Twinkie Princesses, a freshly painted roach coach parked parallel to the street inside the parking lot, offered, “We fry anything,” if only it were ever open. The two women paid their rent on time, and so I overlooked the fact that it might be a cover for something more nefarious than deep-fried Oreos.
Fab parked by the back door; getting out, she pulled her phone from her pocket. “Your boyfriend is on my phone,” she growled. She stuck her head back inside the SUV and looked into the back. “Your phone is in pieces.”
I shrugged and headed inside, waving to Cook and heading to the bar. “Margarita, rocks, salt,” I ordered from Phil the bartender as I slid onto a stool. “Follow it up with a pitcher.”
The tall, willowy
blonde smirked at me. She didn’t have to ask; she knew it had been a bad few days. It wouldn’t surprise me if she knew all about today’s shooting already; her sources were impeccable and for sale, except in my case. We’d arranged a trade. I dreaded the day she passed the bar exam and hung up her lawyerly shingle, and although I’d be happy for her, I’d miss seeing her behind the bar.
“I’ll have a martini, three olives,” Fab ordered.
Looking around the bar, I asked, “When does the next shift show up?” I glanced at my mother-of-pearl watch, forgetting that I’d never set the time. “We need a meeting.”
“Hey, doll,” a man yelled at Phil from the other end of the bar, pounding his fist on the bar top. “Refill.”
Phil dipped my glass in salt, filling it with the green margarita mixture. I barely refrained from licking my lips. She slid it across the bar. Fab’s followed, and when Phil tossed in the olives, a little gin splashed up. Phil’s lips quirked.
I downed half the glass, thinking I should at least order chips before I got completely sloshed. But I couldn’t drink another if I wanted to get home. Oh yeah, I didn’t have a home.
Phil walked to the other end of the bar, drink in hand for the obnoxious customer. I watched as the two exchanged words, which I couldn’t hear over the conversations around me. She set the glass down, and the man grabbed her wrist, pulling her with such force that she slammed up against the edge of the bar top.
Fab leaped up on a barstool, gun in hand, and stepped up on the bar. “Get your hands off her,” she boomed.
The man loosened his hold, and Phil stepped back.
It surprised me that she didn’t bring out the Mossberg shotgun for a little show; she wasn’t afraid to get in anyone’s face. I caught Fab’s attention and motioned to the door with my thumb.
“Out. Don’t make me tell you again.” Fab must have been practicing her mean-girl stare; it was more intense than usual.
Hurricane in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 10) Page 4