“Who okayed this stupid party idea?” Fab asked in disgust.
“Mac’s standing at the rear bumper; why don’t you ask her?” I looked in the side mirror before getting out. I didn’t say a word to Mac, glaring at her.
“This is the best I could come up with last-minute, and it’s your fault,” Mac snapped. “I could’ve hired a fake gun fight, or swords sounded fun, but you nixed that idea—‘someone might get hurt.’ The entertainment would’ve been over in five minutes.” She brushed her hands together. “Everyone in bed early and satisfied.”
“You know damn well that such entertainment was banned by Creole. Do you have a go-to-jail wish? That’s what would have happened if someone had gotten stabbed, and the gunfight idea is an even faster way to get incarcerated.” I wagged my finger at her. “I know Creole paid you a personal visit to explain the new policy. Don’t deny it.”
“Creole’s so sweet.” Mac sighed.
“You’ll find out how sweet he is if he has to come back here and explain the same thing again.” I renewed my glare and didn’t break eye contact. “Let me make this clear: you have your own boyfriend; you make googly eyes over mine, and I’ll jerk out your bouffant do.”
“We broke up. If you can call it that, since we were only banging.” Mac’s hands shot to her hips, boobs out. Today’s t-shirt proclaimed: “Surprise, I’m drunk.” She’d paired it with a large, blue, above-the-knee gingham check skirt and pink-and-lime flip-flops that tied on with ribbons up her calves.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Billy gave me the shot of confidence that I needed. I’m on the market.” She thrust her chest out even farther. “I also got the satisfaction of telling his ass to hit the road. Too much baggage for me.”
“I’ll let Mother know; she’ll have you hooked up in no time.” There wasn’t anything Mother liked more than meddling in a person’s love life.
“At least you showed up,” Mac said. “I’m going to need help. Once the word ‘party’ hits the street, you know it brings out the folks.”
“Listen up, you two: neither of you is to shoot anyone. Got it?” I left them at the bumper and headed to the office. I hadn’t even gotten my fingers around the doorknob when a gunshot rang out from inside. In an instant, Fab was at my side. Both our guns drawn, she kicked the door open.
An older woman I’d never seen before had made herself comfortable in Mac’s chair behind the desk. She was wearing an expensive designer workout outfit of black-and-purple ankle-length running pants and a lightweight black crew shirt, her lavender tennis shoes shoved up against the edge of the desk drawer. Catching sight of the two guns pointed at her, she dropped hers on the blotter.
“Don’t move,” I shouted. My eyes traveled to the new hole in the wall above the window. “Who are you and what the hell did you do?”
Mac, who had hung back, was the last to burst through the door. “Someone get shot?” she asked, out of breath.
“They’re about to.” I glared at the older woman.
“It was a big cockroach, really long.” The woman feigned fright and held out her hands to indicate a medium-sized dog.
Fab climbed up on the couch, inspected the hole in the drywall, and ran her hand down the wall, then held up a big piece of black animal fur. “Is this your cockroach?”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or strangle the woman and reluctantly took a more professional attitude. “We have rules in this office, one in particular being that we do not waste ammo on bugs or cat hair.” I stared Mac down, daring her to contradict me. “Call the sheriff.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed on me. “I’ll just call my lawyer.”
Mac stepped around me. “Let me make the introductions.” She nodded in the woman’s direction. “Maricruz Campion. This is the owner, Madison Westin.”
Fab relieved the woman of her gun, swiftly emptying the bullets into her hand. “Shoot away,” she said and handed it back.
“That was impressive.” Maricruz appeared awe-struck. “You can call me Mrs. Campion,” she said haughtily.
One more for Fab’s growing group of women crushes.
Fab checked the woman out from head to toe, smiling broadly. “You weren’t what we were expecting. Does Cruz know you carry?”
Cruz was apparently named after his granny, another thing he’d failed to mention, to me at any rate. Cruz had made her sound like she stepped out of a children’s story, complete with sugar cookies in the pocket of a smock covering a dumpy dress. Instead, she was pretty damn well preserved, and I’d guess at a mojito in her pocket before I’d think cookies. Apparently, Grandma had a whole side that Cruz had never seen before; either that, or he’d decided to surprise me.
“It’s a new hobby.” She sniffed. “Another checkmark on my bucket list. A woman of my years has to live in the moment.”
“Where did you get the gun?” I asked, trying to suppress the thought that I wouldn’t like the answer. “And where’s your carry permit? It will be the first question the sheriff asks if one of the neighbors called 911.”
Maricruz didn’t acknowledge that I was the one talking, instead focusing on Fab. “I was headed to a pawn shop, but then got word that a friend of a friend had this one for sale.”
This was one of those moments that it surprised me I didn’t have ulcers.
Fab, one step ahead of me, reconsidered her decision to give Grandma’s gun back and confiscated it instead. “You’re smart enough to know that if you want a gun, you buy it new from a gun store. If this was used in a crime—” She held up the baby Glock. “—you’re going to need the services of your grandson, who might not be able to keep you out of jail, even with his superstar talents.”
“Another rule—no firearms on the property.” I returned Grandma’s scowl, always pleased with myself when I made up a plausible last-minute lie. “Mac here has activities planned for you; I’m sure you won’t be missing your gun.” I nudged Mac’s leg.
Mac, who had stood by the door the whole time, got a folding chair out of the opposite corner, snapped it open, and plopped down. “Tonight—there’s a pool party and barbeque to introduce you around.”
Maricruz didn’t bother to hide the fact that Mac’s plans didn’t impress her. “Open bar? If not, where’s the nearest liquor store? I’m a fan of whiskey neat. In fact, I’ll have one now.”
I needed to assign her a keeper. Cruz hadn’t actually said anything about trouble, probably figuring I’d pick up on that red flag, but he did say that nothing better happen to his dear grandma.
Fab sat on the couch and stretched out, not bored for a change and thoroughly amused by our newest guest, judging by the huge grin on her face. “I’ll drive you,” she offered.
If looks could kill, the one I leveled at Fab should, at the very least, have pitched her to the floor and made her roll around.
The door flew open and came within a hair’s breadth of hitting the wall. Crum filled the doorway, shirtless and sporting two pairs of boxer shorts turned backwards, with mismatched knee-high garden boots completing his ensemble, his bushy white hair standing on end.
“Ladies,” he said, stepping into the already crowded office. “I need the keys to the shed. It’s gardening day.” He flexed his muscles.
Mac moved around the desk and asked Maricruz, “Would you move your feet?” She flicked her hand in the direction of the designer tennis shoes.
She was wearing several hundred dollars in running attire, and it made me wonder if it was all show or if she’d actually taken up the sport.
Maricruz apparently didn’t hear a word; her attention was on Crum. “We haven’t been introduced.” She stood and held out her hand.
Crum made a sweeping bow, taking her hand in his and running his lips across her knuckles. “Mr. Crum at your service. Anything you need during your stay, I’m in number two.”
; “Call me Maricruz. No need for formality.” She blushed and fluttered her eyelashes.
I refrained from making the retching noise that was eager to erupt, nodding at Mac to hurry up. Mac retrieved the keys, called, “Catch,” and tossed them at Crum, breaking up the uncomfortable moment. She headed in his direction, affixed her hand to the middle of Crum’s back, and pushed him out the door, closing it behind him.
“He’s hot,” Maricruz gushed, continuing to stare at the place where Crum had stood.
I needed two aspirin… or a margarita, and I’d rather have the later. Never one to be a coward, just this once, I wanted to slip out the door and go home.
No one had said a word. Fab stood, looking at Maricruz. “Liquor store’s not far; we can go get your whiskey now. We—” Fab motioned to me. “—have an appointment this afternoon.”
I flashed her a limp smile. “I’ll wait here. I’ve got some business to go over with Mac.”
Mac raised her eyebrow but didn’t say anything. From her commiserating glance, she knew I was looking for any excuse to stay put. She also knew she was so efficient that when something did come up, we handled it over the phone.
Maricruz crossed to Fab, patting her on the cheek. “I liked you from the start.”
Fab shepherded her outside. Mac managed to close the door without a bang. I moved to the couch and lay down, closing my eyes.
Mac rounded her desk, sitting down. “I don’t have a good feeling about that woman. Can you say ‘trouble’? Cruz had the nerve to pass her off as some sweet old grandma, as though she was that old woman who had kids hanging out of the windows of that shoe.”
“You can’t take your eyes off Mrs. Campion.” This was going to be the longest week ever. “She cannot get into any trouble. Keep her away from Crum; he’s like a dog in heat.” To hell with the bet. I should call Cruz right now and demand that he pick her up. My radar had set off an annoying buzzing in my head, which didn’t quiet when Mac agreed with me; she handled people like Maricruz every day.
“How am I supposed to do that?” Mac kicked her foot up on the desktop and then groaned because she’d hit her heel, forgetting that she’d opted out of a more substantial shoe for the day.
I winced, but she appeared to take it in stride. “Hire Liam and Shirl—between the three of you, you should be able to shadow one old woman.” I closed my eyes again. “Pool party?” I shuddered.
“Where were your ideas?” She snorted, making a show of kicking at the notepad on her desk. “Last-minute plans also take time to implement, even for a friendly get together. The kook-nuts from the neighborhood expect food and punch, and I didn’t plan on liquor and beer, knowing that most would show up drunk. Do I get credit for hiring a lifeguard on the likely chance that someone falls in the pool? I checked with the insurance company, and we do have liability issues if we’re throwing the shindig. I passed myself off as you in the phone call; I’d appreciate you not ratting me out, since it’s a crime.”
“I know I don’t say thank you often enough—thank you.” I quirked one eye open. “Meeting called to order.”
Mac laughed.
“Tell me Rocks packed his bags and left.” I rolled onto my side, facing her.
“He’s still here but keeping a low profile. Never around during the day, sneaks in and out late at night. Good news: the shooter hasn’t been back.”
“Put an eviction notice on his door.”
“Can’t.” Mac settled back in her chair, wadding her skirt up and sticking it between her legs. “Rocks is paid up until the end of the month. I could have Billy talk to him and, as an incentive, offer a refund. I think he enjoys scaring the hell out of people.”
“Under no circumstances is Rocks to turn up dead.”
Mac humphed.
I jerked when my phone rang. Recognizing the ringtone, I pulled it out of my pocket.
“Maricruz gave me the slip,” Fab said as soon as I answered.
It took a moment for her words to sink in. Then I yelled, “What are you talking about?”
“She picked out some cheap, rotgut whiskey, set it on the counter, and went to the bathroom. After five minutes, certain she’d died and I’d be blamed, I searched under the stall doors, only to figure out that she’d slipped out the back door and disappeared.” Fab emitted a strangled noise. “No one admits to having seen anything.”
“You can’t keep track of one old woman?” I struggled to lower my voice. “We’ve got find her.”
“Why?” Fab sounded as though she’d given the question some thought. “We’re not her jailers. She’s not senile; she can come back on her own.”
“Come and get me.” I sighed.
“I just pulled into the driveway. Get your butt out here.” Fab honked.
Mac stood and flounced to the door. “What about the party?” She preceded me out the door and headed to the driver’s side, to get an update, I presumed.
I crossed to the passenger side, got in, and leaned across the seat. “I don’t care about the party. Go ahead with the barbeque for the tenants and guests; discourage troublemakers.”
“Who’s going to call Cruz?” Fab asked.
Fab and I stared at Mac.
“Fine. And I get a raise. But first, I say we don’t borrow trouble unless she doesn’t show back up in a couple of hours.”
Chapter Seventeen
Didier—in well-fitting jeans and a t-shirt that hugged his biceps, his dark hair slightly messy—handed me a mug of coffee when I walked into the kitchen. No wonder Mother snuck over to my house for her morning cup of brew. The one person missing had slipped out early, leaving me with a kiss that promised there would be more later.
I sniffed the coffee’s aroma to make sure it wasn’t one of his “full-bodied” blends, which smelled like tar and probably tasted the same way. It earned me a masculine growl.
“You made me a cup of my favorite.” I beamed at him.
“I suggested that he encourage you to broaden your palette, try something new,” Fab said arrogantly. “He ignored me.”
“Mornings are not the time to try anything new, and I’m not sure what time of day is; same old works for me.” I kissed Didier’s cheek. “Thank you for not listening to your girlfriend.”
Through traded texts the night before, Mac had assured us the pool party was a tame affair. The text that had me breathing a huge sigh said, “Grandma just dragged her ass in the driveway.”
I’d dreamed about my brother, and there was something elusive about it that I wanted to pull back into my consciousness so I could remember the details. The harder I tried, though, the farther away it got, dangling just out of my reach. Snippets of Fab and Didier’s plans for the day invaded my thoughts; he had another meeting and was not happy that his partner would be a no-show.
“My brother’s not a jerk,” I said out loud, which wasn’t my intention.
“Cherie,” Didier said softly, stepping around the island and enveloping me in a reassuring hug. “Of course he’s not. Do not think for one minute that I have a low opinion of Brad because of a last-minute fishing trip.”
“Did you miss a call from him; is that why he texted you?”
“No calls, which surprised me.” Didier picked up my mug. “Another?” He raised an eyebrow.
I shook my head. “Must have been one heck of an emergency. I hope no one got hurt. But surely if that had happened, we’d have heard by now. When he docks, we’ll both tell him phone calls only in future so we don’t worry. And for my part, I’ll include a threat; I can’t kick his ass, but I can whine to Mother.”
Didier smiled down at me. “If I had a sister, I’d hope we’d be as close as you two. It’s nice to see.”
I stretched my fingers out, reaching for my cell phone, but was a smidge short. Fab flicked it in my direction. I texted Liam, “Talk to Brad?”
&
nbsp; It didn’t take long to get back an answer. “He texted Mom—went fishing.” I read it aloud. Then I called Brad, and it went straight to voicemail. “Not back yet,” I told Fab and Didier.
It was then that I noticed Fab had on a black sleeveless sundress accented by a few of her favorite pieces of silver jewelry. Her hair had just the right amount of “Hey, I’m sexy” look. Since it appeared that the hot couple had plans, I could stay in my sweats and Creole’s t-shirt a little longer.
Fab scrutinized me with an intensity that made me want to cross my index fingers in front of my face to ward off her snooping through my thoughts, which would leave any sane person feeling uneasy.
“You owe me,” Fab announced, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
I looked over my shoulder. Didier laughed. The French doors were open, and the patio wasn’t that far away. I pushed my stool back.
“You know I’m speaking to you.” Fab didn’t take her eyes off me. “Don’t even think about running; I’ll send Didier to fetch you back.”
Didier held up his hands. “I’m not getting involved, except maybe to help Madison make a clean getaway.”
Fab snapped a few French words at Didier, and he responded with a laugh and a look of innocence.
I took my mug to the sink, leaning over to scope out the driveway. “All clear outside, but it’s early yet. Billy is the best guard; you never see him, but you know he’s watching.”
“I’m certain you wouldn’t want me to embarrass you by producing my twenty-five-page list of favors owed. We’re going to lunch—no flip-flops but casual dressy.”
Just for the heck of it, I should demand said list, knowing that one doesn’t exist.
“You’re on.” I enjoyed the surprised look on her face; she hadn’t expected me to give in so easily. “See you tonight.” I patted Didier’s shoulder as I went by on my way upstairs.
* * *
Fab checked me over so thoroughly as I came down the stairs that I expected her to demand that I open my mouth so she could inspect my teeth.
Hurricane in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 10) Page 12