“Ramona doesn’t put out?” Fab demanded.
I coughed and gave her a wide-eyed stare.
“We have a pretty good sex life, except when she goes off her meds. She’s been manic lately.” He directed the comment to Fab.
I wondered if he thought she was the sensitive, nurturing one of the two of us. But why spoil the surprise? Petrol could figure it out for himself.
“Ramona caught me breaking open one of her pills and sprinkling it in her mashed potatoes. She accused me of drugging her. I just wanted the crazy mood swings to stop.”
“I’ve heard enough. Get up.” Fab motioned for him to stand and reholstered her gun.
Petrol slowly got to his feet, leaning against the door of the shed.
“Did you live here?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Not officially. We hooked up one night about six months ago, came back here, and you know… Only left when we got in a fight. I didn’t even have a drawer; kept my stuff in grocery bags on the floor. I have a one-room hole above a strip mall in town. Hope that didn’t get carried away, or I’m screwed.”
“Any idea where Ramona went?” Fab asked.
“After the storm, we stayed with a friend of hers in Homestead. Can’t believe she left me here to die. I would’ve once the water ran out. Only had two bottles left; didn’t think about rationing it. It was hotter than stink in there; the sweat kept my clothes plastered to my body.” He shuddered. “The few tools inside were worthless; didn’t make a dent in getting the metal door open.”
Petrol swayed, and Fab grabbed his arm before he fell sideways to the ground, her other hand in the middle of his chest. She withdrew the car keys from her pocket. “Catch,” she said, tossing them at me.
It always surprised me when I caught flying objects.
“Bring the SUV closer,” Fab directed. “We can’t leave him here.”
The fact that she was letting me drive meant she didn’t think leaving Petrol alone was a good idea. He didn’t look strong enough to be a threat to either of us. I assessed him as another dumb man who had let his lower friend make bad decisions and chose an unstable woman to hook up with.
I shot across the weeds in the SUV, which earned me a glare from Fab, and pulled up next to her and Petrol.
Fab helped him into the passenger seat and climbed in the back. “You make any stupid moves, and I’ll shoot you.” She pulled up the front of her shirt, flashing her handgun.
Petrol didn’t notice; he was leaning against the window. I smiled in the rearview mirror, then asked Petrol, “Where do you want to go?”
“Home.” He gave the address.
“Do you have hurricane supplies at home?” I asked. “You really should go to a clinic or something for a checkup.”
“If the building is still standing, I got plenty of canned goods and water. Can I ask what you two were doing at the house… property, I guess?”
“Ramona’s brother wanted us to check to make sure she was okay. He hasn’t been able to get ahold of her for the last few days and was worried,” Fab informed him.
“They butted heads a lot. He’s overprotective, and she’s not a listener; hates being told what to do. She didn’t like to talk about him.” Petrol sat silently, looking out the window. “I don’t want any trouble, but you tell that brother of hers that she stole my truck, phone, and wallet, and if I don’t get them back in the next couple of days, I am going to file a police report. I’m an asshole, but I told her that before we hooked up. Leaving me to die over a hummer is too much. You could motivate the brother by telling him that, by the time I’m done with my side of the story, it could land her in the psych ward.”
Fab tugged on my hair. “Drop him off at his place. Petrol—” She turned to him. “—give us the name and address of Ramona’s friend’s place in Homestead. We’ll get the truck back to you tomorrow if it’s at that address. If not, we might need an extra day. And you keep your mouth shut. Deal? We’ll supply you with a phone and some cash, and I’ll give you a number you can call if you need anything. She’ll call back.” Fab pointed at me.
It had been Fab’s idea to leave an extra phone in the glove box, which saved us a trip to civilization, and we pooled our cash, giving him a healthy sum to buy his silence until we got in touch with Creole and made Petrol his problem.
* * *
Arriving at the address Petrol gave us, I didn’t hold out much hope for his apartment to be in any kind of livable condition. The storefront windows facing the street had been blown out, and glass lay everywhere; nobody had made an attempt at cleanup. It had been a ratty building to begin with but managed to stay standing. We drove around the back. The rentals were on the second floor. A few had boarded-up windows, but that didn’t seem to bother the people hanging over the balcony or sitting in chairs they’d dragged out. With no electricity, I imagined the rooms to be insufferable little hellholes.
I questioned Petrol about the dogs and found out that they had lived next door. Ramona hated animals and didn’t care what happened to them. The owners of the property had fled soon after getting the evacuation order and left the dogs behind. I thought that people who did that should be arrested. I’d bet they’d go and get another pet too, even though they were unfit.
While Fab dealt with Petrol, I called a friend at a local-ish animal rescue. I could swear the woman at the shelter groaned when I identified myself. In all fairness, I never called to say, “How are you?” But I also hit up friends for donations to keep the no-kill shelters in business.
She laughed when I told her I thought there were only two dogs and told me that she herself had patrolled the streets of the area I was talking about and that Animal Control had patrolled the streets, searching hard-hit areas for the first few days after the storm, but had stopped, since the rescue places were filled beyond capacity and they had no place to house them.
Rather than go down my list of other rescue places and listen to more heart-wrenching stories, I hit the number for Billy’s friend, Nancy, who’d helped out with rescued animals in the past as a favor.
Nancy answered on the first ring, but when I told her why I was calling, she started to cry and told me her small house had suffered extensive water damage and she’d been living in her car with several animals.
“It’s the only possession I have that my ex-husband couldn’t get his hands on to gamble away. He was livid when he found out the title had never been transferred out of my grandmother’s name.” She sighed loudly.
“We can help each other,” I told the sniffling woman. “I’m certain I can get you a motorhome that you can use—park it right there on your property while repairs are being made.”
She started to protest that she had no money; she was still waiting on an insurance check. I cut her off and told her not worry, reminding her that we’d be helping each other.
“Billy called you a dynamo, and I can see why,” Nancy said.
As if being suddenly homeless wasn’t bad enough, I found out that she didn’t have a job; the restaurant where she worked wouldn’t be reopening any time soon due to damage. I admired her grit and that she hadn’t caved under the pressure of so much loss. I ended the call, telling her I’d be calling back shortly.
Fab slid behind the wheel and quirked her brow just as Spoon answered his phone. “I’ve got several favors to ask,” I said.
“When do I ever say no?” he growled.
“One of these times, you’re going to wish you knew the favor before agreeing.” I smiled at the phone. I knew he’d help with anything I asked and was careful not to take advantage or make him feel unappreciated. “Do you happen to have a motorhome sitting around that could be borrowed for a few weeks—maybe months?”
Fab rolled her eyes and laughed. She pointed to the phone, and I responded by hitting the speaker button. Eager to leave Petrol’s, she had the SUV in gear befor
e the door shut.
After a long pause, he asked, “Where am I going to get one of those?”
“You got a school bus once; a motorhome should be a piece of cake. Did I mention I need it today?” I hurriedly reminded him about Nancy and how she’d helped out on his last job and added that, in addition to being a friend of Billy’s, she’d been displaced by the hurricane and needed help pronto.
He made a few undistinguishable noises. “I’m thinking… I just made an executive decision to push this off on Billy. She is, after all, his friend, so he can coordinate everything. I’m not sure what I can get over to her place today, but it will be something habitable. Anything else?”
I told him about the dogs and that the stores hadn’t reopened, so he would need to send someone north to Homestead for food and asked, if the dogs couldn’t be relocated, if Billy would leave kibble and water. “If Billy gets tired of helping me, let me know, and I’ll put Fab on it.”
Fab hit me in the arm.
“Don’t you worry about Billy.” He hung up, laughing.
I laid my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. “Petrol happy?”
“Not for long. He wants his truck now. Can’t say that I blame him.” Fab tugged on a strand of my hair. “There’s aspirin in the console.”
“I’d rather have a strawberry lemonade. Sometimes an injection of sugar makes it go away… at least until I come down from being high.”
“Or I can take your mind off the pain by interesting you in an immediate repossession of Petrol’s truck. Get it over with, and hopefully we won’t run into anyone.”
“There’s a flaw in your plan, my friend.” I reclined my seat back, thinking about putting my feet on the dashboard for the sheer enjoyment of annoying of Fab. Reconsidering, I put it on a mental list to do another time. “Petrol is going to want his keys. Getting his truck back and not being able to start it might irritate him even more; even if he knows how to hotwire it, it might motivate him to call the cops.”
“Did you call Creole?”
I shook my head. “Once again, I haven’t called in a timely fashion. He’ll be annoyed, and I haven’t come up with a good excuse—yet.”
If Fab had had the room, her hands would have been on her hips; her chin did jut out. “You tell him you were helping an old lady get a home and making sure some dogs got food.” She glared over at me. “You don’t need to make up anything.”
I took my phone from her outstretched hand, texting Creole, “Call at your convenience,” and flashed Fab a lame smile. “You dealt with Petrol, and I got a pass.”
“My never-ending curiosity.” She shuddered. “Those so-called apartments should have blown down, but then there would be more people without a place to live. Whoever owns that is a slumlord.”
My phone rang, and I held it up to look at the screen. “It’s Creole.” I answered and gave him the details about what went down and what we needed—and before tomorrow, but today would be better, in case Petrol changed his mind about playing nice.
“Why do I think there’s more to this story?” Creole asked.
Even over the phone, he knew me so well. “Lots of devastation to take in.”
“I’m going to make this up to you. Next night off, we’ll get Roscoe burgers, and I’ll give you a back rub.”
“And french fries.”
“Of course.” Creole growly-laughed, knowing that it made my toes tingle. I should have kept that tidbit to myself, but it slipped out one night. “Text me the address in Homestead. I’ll call you back.”
“He’s not happy,” I told Fab. “But he’s not mad at us. When I mentioned ‘off her meds,’ I could hear him struggling to control his temper.”
My phone beeped, and a text from Billy popped up. “Taken care of. Will call when job is done.”
“I knew you’d find a home for those dogs,” Fab teased.
We were almost to Tarpon Cove when Creole called back. “You two can go home. Ramona wouldn’t answer her phone; let it go to voicemail. I made it clear to Mike that if his sister continues to play games, she’s on her own. This will be your last involvement in this drama. The truck will be delivered to Petrol in a few hours.” He sighed. “I suppose I can agree to go to a black-tie dinner to make it up to your accomplice.”
“Nothing so drastic.”
I loved that he blew a kiss through the phone before hanging up.
“We’re done for the day.” It figured that Creole had told his friend, ‘You take care of your sister.’ I did wonder whether, if questioned, the brother would admit to the omission of a fact or two. “I’m glad we’re out of it. Someone else is delivering the truck. I didn’t ask for details; I wouldn’t get them anyway.” I grinned at her. “I didn’t get to the good part: how you handled Petrol and what a star you were the whole time. But I’ll be boasting later.”
“Can you heap the praise on in front of Didier?” Fab asked, her tone changing to one of melancholy. “It was cold on my side of the bed last night.”
“Skipping a night builds character,” I managed to say with a straight face.
“Whoever said that wasn’t having sex. Or not good sex, anyway.”
Chapter Fifteen
Fab and I walked into the house to find Didier in a full-blown snit—directed at Brad, who wasn’t there. The island was covered with a jumble of paperwork.
“Does your brother usually go out fishing with no notice?” he demanded.
Fab moved behind Didier, rubbing his shoulders.
I thought a moment, then shook my head. “What happened?”
Brad ran a highly successful commercial fishing business. He had recently turned the reigns of the day-to-day operations over to another man so that he and Didier could chase real estate deals.
“We had a meeting this morning, but Brad texted that one of his men had called in sick and he needed to fill in.” Didier hit the counter with his fist. “It was unprofessional to have to make a vague excuse for my partner, but it’s not like could say, ‘sorry, he has more important priorities.’”
I understood Didier’s frustration, but it was so unlike my brother that it had to have been truly a last-minute emergency with no other options. “That’s odd. If it were just one fisherman, he could have his pick from the ones that hang around to sign on in place of a last-minute no-show. Must have been the new captain. Did Brad say how long he’d be gone?”
Didier shook his head. “Now his phone has been shut off.”
“Were you able to save the meeting?” I asked.
“Of course,” he said, flashing his confident, self-assured smile, as if to say, Did you expect anything less?
Once Brad and Julie got serious, he didn’t want to be out of town as much, hence the new guy, and before that, he’d cut his trips short so that he wasn’t gone longer than a week. I was relieved to see that Didier’s anger had abated. “When he gets back, kick his ass.” There was no smile, no reprimand for what he constantly referred to as bad language.
Fab wrapped her arms around his neck, whispering in French. Didier stood, she grasped his hand, and they headed out of the kitchen. Didier said something, and Fab turned back to me. “We’ll get our own dinner.” She flashed a smirky wink, and they went upstairs.
I followed slowly, hanging out at the bottom of the steps until I heard the bedroom door close. Then I raced up the stairs and into my bedroom, changing into a two-piece turquoise tankini in record time, and grabbing a book and my beach bag to spend time by the pool.
Chapter Sixteen
The next day, Mac called to remind me that Grandmother Campion had arrived and that she had planned a “Welcome to the Neighborhood” party for the woman.
Why, when I had do-nothing plans for the day, did something always come up to derail my plans? Party time at The Cottages had me conjuring images of flashing lights, handcuff
s, and the requisite drunk passed out cold by the pool. I dragged my feet into the bathroom and under the large showerhead.
Toweling off, I stared into my closet and laughed—deciding what to wear to the party. Hopefully, Mac had spread the word that clothing was not optional. I pulled a colorful full skirt off the hangar and stepped into it, followed by a sleeveless top that I could wear untucked, covering my handgun, and chose sparkly flip-flops.
It took a half-second to locate Fab, lying on the couch with Jazz at her side and Snow on her feet. Her eyes were closed, but I knew damn well that even if she’d been asleep when I got to the top of the stairs, she wasn’t now that I’d hit the bottom step. The woman could hear a leaf drop to the ground. I reached for Jazz, and her arms tightened around him. “He’s sleeping.”
“How was your dinner with Didier?”
Fab opened her eyes. “What do you want?”
“Your tone is less than nice.” I tsked. “I’ve been invited to a party. Do you want to be my date?”
“I got the same invitation as you and declined. Mac sent back a smiley face. There’s something wrong with her.”
Jazz jumped down, letting out a loud meow, and stalked off to the kitchen. It didn’t take long for Snow to follow.
“There goes your fan club.” I tried not to laugh and dropped down next to her in the newly vacated space.
“I suppose I’ll go.”
I never doubted it.
* * *
“Promise me we’re not staying long.” Fab slid into the driveway of The Cottages, parking in front of the office.
“If you see anyone you don’t know, suggest they get the heck off the property for their own health. You know, in a nice way.”
The lure of the fifty-year-old barbeque and the smoke it was emitting had several people milling around Joseph’s door. One woman, who I identified as Drunken Sally, disappeared around the corner when the SUV pulled in. Reports of her demise appeared to be inaccurate. She was a longtime friend of Miss January, and if I had my way, I’d forbid them any more adventures.
Hurricane in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 10) Page 11