Hurricane in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 10)

by Deborah Brown

  “I was beginning to think you might need help picking something out, but you managed on your own.” Fab nodded her approval.

  I twirled around the living room in a spaghetti-strap sea-blue dress. I lifted my foot, sticking my low-heeled tan leather slide in Fab’s direction. “Do these meet your approval?”

  Fab nodded again, crossing into the entry and picking up a duffle bag that sat on the bench.

  I flashed her a questioning look.

  “This is a change of clothing and two pairs of shoes for those ‘just in case’ moments we seem to have a lot of lately.”

  I grabbed two pairs of plain flip-flops from the newly acquired copper boot tray. The ones in the car disappeared regularly, but my tennis shoes were left untouched. I suspected it happened on trash day when my back was turned. I followed Fab and noticed what I’d missed earlier: that the back of her dress had crisscrossed straps that showed a flash of skin.

  When Fab turned north on the Overseas, leaving the city limits of Tarpon Cove behind, all hope of lunch in The Keys was dashed. “I’m afraid to ask where we’re going.”

  “Ft. Lauderdale. Since you seem to have Brad on your mind, I thought we’d check out the docks, ask a few questions, and then you don’t have to pretend that you’re not worried.”

  I wanted to hug her, but it wasn’t feasible. “And you thought this friend thing would never work out.” I beamed. When we first met, she’d informed me that she didn’t have friends and didn’t want any.

  My phone rang, and Fab rolled her eyes. “Hi honey,” I answered, recognizing the ringtone.

  “I’m sure it was an oversight that you didn’t text me where you’re going,” Creole growled.

  I smiled stupidly at his face on my phone screen. “I don’t know exactly. Fab’s taking me out for a girl lunch. No business today.”

  “You be careful; it might be a trick.” He half-laughed.

  “You packing?” I asked Fab. From her look of disgust, I deduced that the answer was yes. “Two girls, two guns,” I said into the phone.

  “That would bother most boyfriends, but not me.”

  “When can I expect another late-night visit?”

  “What was that noise?”

  “Fab gagging.” I shook my head at her, pinching my cheeks together to stop myself from laughing; Creole wouldn’t appreciate knowing I found her antics funny… well, sometimes.

  “Tonight. You tell her that by the time I’m done telling Didier on her, she’ll be explaining her poor behavior to an irate Frenchman.”

  “I don’t think that will turn out quite like you hope.” I laughed, images of jungle sex flashed before my eyes. “Can’t wait for later.” I made a kissy noise.

  He gave a long smoochy one in return.

  Fab cruised up the highway, taking one of the exits toward Ft. Lauderdale. I continued to relax back in my seat; we were caught up in slow-moving traffic, and it didn’t appear that it would let up anytime soon. Thinking back, I realized it had been a long time since I’d been down to the docks. Not telling anyone what was going on, except by text, was a huge lapse on Brad’s part, and I was just happy that Mother wasn’t involved. I felt a tad guilty for not keeping a better eye on my brother; I’d be informing him no more out-of-town trips without telling me first. If he complained, I’d explain about brotherly duty. Last resort was the threat of telling Mother that he must be up to something if he was being surly about my snooping. That would make him laugh; we honored the brother/sister code and never told on each other—ever. Trying to plead ignorance with Mother sometimes got us in more trouble than telling would have, but we never caved.

  Fab had to circle the block a couple of times near where Brad parked his boat. Finally, the man in the parking shack removed the old chair with a “full” sign tied around it and shoved it out of the way.

  I knew a shortcut that offered free on-street parking. But the path led under a freeway overpass and had an extremely creepy vibe. In the past, I’d witnessed more than one illegal transaction take place there, and I no longer minded putting out for overpriced parking.

  Fab shot down the first aisle, ignoring the man, who was waving her to the last row, which had an open space in the middle. Since my brother had left early, he’d have had his pick of spaces and would have parked next to the entrance. But I didn’t see his truck anywhere.

  “Drive the aisles.” I pulled my lockpick out of my purse. “Just in case the dock gate is locked.” Fab turned back toward the front, giving me a view of the dock. “Brad’s back; his boat’s in its slip.” I pointed, taking my phone out as Fab pulled into a newly vacated space. “Voicemail.” I double-checked the screen to make sure I’d called the right number. “His phone could be dead; probably charging.”

  “So… he docked, but he’s not here…” Fab murmured.

  “I’ll walk down. Someone will be able to tell me what time he docked and when he left.” I kicked off my heels and slid my feet into a pair of flip-flops.

  “I’m coming.” Fab traded her heels for tennis shoes.

  The gate was open and tied to a post, and at least one boat was making preparations to pull out. Two men hauled supplies up and down the dock to a large commercial boat parked at the very end.

  I waved to the men and pointed to my brother’s boat. “Do you know when they docked?”

  “A few days ago. They cleaned up, and I haven’t seen anyone around since,” the blond one said.

  “What about the owner, Brad Westin?” Fab asked.

  “Since he hired the new guy, I haven’t seen him around in a while,” the same man answered. His friend nodded.

  Fab thanked them. They reluctantly stopped checking her out and went back to work.

  “What’s going on?” I stood at the bow of the boat, staring, unsure what I was looking for, then walked the dock from one end to the other. All the boats parked nearby were fishing boats. It was afternoon, and they were locked up with no one in sight. I climbed aboard Brad’s boat, and it was locked up too. I knew that if Brad were aboard, he wouldn’t lock himself inside.

  “Get back down here.” Fab waved. “Brad’s not here. We’ll go back to the car and make a few calls. Apparently, you haven’t noticed it smells.”

  “It’s fish guts and probably more than a few dead ones.” I held my breath and jumped down, landing on my feet. The image of Mother came to mind, wagging her finger and saying, “Just because she jumps off stuff—” Pointing to Fab. “—doesn’t mean that you have to copy her.”

  “Well done.” Fab gave me a thumbs up. She hooked her arm in mine, and we walked back to the SUV.

  “The hairs on my neck, the ones that never fail me, and the rock in my stomach are telling me I need to find my brother. Pronto. He’s never been a flake; he wouldn’t just lie about where he was going and disappear. He’d never worry Mother.”

  “I do know Brad. He wouldn’t worry you either. We’ll find him,” Fab reassured me. Undeterred by my desire to stand and stare at the docks, she shoved me the last few feet to the SUV, opening the passenger door and shooting me a silent dare to see what would happen next if I didn’t get in.

  Fab sprinted around to the driver side as soon as I’d climbed in. “I’ll make a mental list of all the places he could be, starting with Alligator Alley, but I’ll put that at the bottom of the list,” she said as she slid behind the wheel. “You make calls. Start with the new captain.”

  “No one finds out that we’re searching for Brad.” I flashed her a squinty glare. “I don’t have the new guy’s number. But Brad did have Phil run a background check, called it good business; so she’ll have it.” I called her number and put her on speaker.

  When I told her what I needed, she put me on hold. “I texted you the number,” Phil said, after a long pause. “I can put the word out that I want to speak to him.”

  “Only if you can
do it without attracting any attention.”

  “No worry there. I’ll use my lowlife hotline,” Phil said. “I hate to bother you, but your new best friend, Maricruz Campion, came in last night, demanding to have her food and liquor comped and swearing you’d pick up the tab. When I handed her the phone and told her I needed verification, she snarled at me. She wiggled herself up and down on a couple of bar rats and snagged a couple of drinks. Next time, she has to pay up front; she ordered dinner, picked at it, and then snuck out without paying. Normally, I’d have her arrested, but I figured locking up Cruz’s grandmother wasn’t conducive to business.”

  Fab laughed.

  “Make sure I get the check. She’ll pay, or I’ll have Fab here threaten her. Anything else?” I asked in exasperation.

  “It was odd to see an old gal in a white crocheted bikini, ample cleavage on display; she did have a sheer wrap skirt tied around her middle. I didn’t get a peek at the shoes. She was on the prowl for someone considerably younger.”

  I groaned. “Did she, uh… hook up… score… I know: make a nice match?”

  “Once the two at the bar realized they weren’t getting any sexual favors, they left.” Phil laughed. “She made a spectacle of herself on the dance floor both with and without a partner. No takers that I saw. And then she disappeared.”

  “I’d like to know how she’s getting around. It’s a long walk from The Cottages. If she shows back up, refuse service; she complains, tell her to call her lawyer.” Phil was still laughing when we hung up. “Damn Cruz,” I grumbled and called the boat captain.

  After I identified myself as Brad Westin’s sister, the call was short. He hadn’t talked to my brother and didn’t seem worried. He did say that the next fishing trip was scheduled for the end of the week and they always touched base ahead of time and that he’d tell Brad to give me a call.

  “It’s amazing the information people will give you without asking any questions,” Fab commented with disgust when I hung up. “Don’t bother telling me you’re the nice one; heard that before.”

  “Since we’re this far north, I suggest we detour through Alligator Alley before heading back to the Cove and finishing up there.” I leaned down and shoved my hand in my purse, fished around, and pulled out my trusty beach notepad and matching pen, which I’d bought at a tourist store while Fab stood next to me, making her annoyance felt the whole time. “Then we hit The Cottages. Mac knows everything, and I can’t fault Joseph’s information-gathering. It helps if he’s in a cooperative mood, but that can be bought. We’ll do a drive-by of the jobsite, but if Brad was there, we’d have gotten a call from Didier. Then check in with the various suspects, and by that time, we’ll have found him.” I leaned my head back, taking a deep breath, which did zero to calm my nerves.

  “You’re forgetting a stop—your mother’s. We could pick the lock.”

  My eyebrows went to my hairline. “Mother only likes that trick when it’s someone else’s doorknob. If Brad were there, that would mean he was sick, and we’d know about it. And he wouldn’t lie about that; he’d want a ton of sympathy.”

  “It surprises even me that I’m the one reminding you of the rules, but the boyfriends aren’t going to like being uninformed; especially yours, since ferreting out hard-to-find individuals is his day job.” Fab honked at the man in the next lane, signaling she wanted over. It surprised me that she didn’t just cut him off. “If we question a lot of people, the chances are high that word will get out.”

  “We don’t have anything to tell them.” I did my best to sound optimistic. “Doesn’t matter. By the end of the day, we’ll have found Brad, and it will all be a big joke. And then I’ll beat the hell out of him.”

  “Have you two ever had a physical fight?” Fab asked.

  “I used to jump on his back, hook my legs around his waist, and say mean things. He’d lie on the ground and threaten to squash me if I didn’t let go.” I laughed at the memories. He could have dumped me in a heap, but never did; he’d had never-ending patience for my plays for attention. “There was one time…” I smiled. “He had the nerve to tell me I’d never make it as a smart-ass. I burst into tears. I boo-hooed to Mother, repeating what he’d said word for word.”

  “You were even weird as a child.” Fab laughed at me. “I can’t believe you got him in trouble.”

  “Mother rarely intervened in our childish squabbles. This time, she had the infinite wisdom to assure me that it was a compliment. It didn’t take long before Brad agreed, probably after getting one of those looks. You know: ‘you want to get out of your bedroom before age fifty, you better back me up.’”

  “My sisters and I were never allowed to roughhouse; we might have gotten dirty. Yelling and fighting were not tolerated.” Fab wrinkled her nose. “If you weren’t a lady, you were nothing.”

  “Do you miss France?” I wanted to ask about her family, but she couldn’t mask her sadness when the topic came up. So I waited for those rare moments when she wanted to share.

  “I used to romanticize a return. All of us together, tears at the reunion, eager to catch-up.” She snorted. “Waste of time. If I want mothering, I go to Madeline’s house. She gave me my own key, told me I was welcome no matter the hour.”

  I tried to blink away my tears before Fab could see. That was what I loved about Mother—she had the biggest heart. “What if Spoon comes walking out in his, you know… nothing? Then what?”

  “Your mother and I have already had a good laugh about that one. She told me, if I see his truck in the parking lot, to kick the hell out of the door.” She winked. “I’m to wait until it opens on its own and I get invited in.”

  “Or,” I said with a devilish smirk, “pick the lock, bang the door closed, and yell, ‘Put your clothes on; you’ve got company.’”

  We both giggled.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Fab got over in the far lane, merging onto the highway that was an almost-straight shot through the Everglades. The two lanes of the highway were separated by a large median strip that was flanked by trees and a variety of tall grasses. I’d once told my brother that the roadsides were in need of a good mow.

  I looked at my bare legs and grimaced, remembering being chewed on during my last visit—a buffet for biting bugs. “We’re wasting time. Why would he be out here? Something bad has happened; I can feel it.” I turned from the window, bored with the view but needing to watch for landmarks.

  “Stop thinking the worst; we’re going to find him,” Fab admonished. “Where do we turn?”

  “Right after the ‘Panther Crossing’ sign. There’s a half-standing convenience store that’s been closed for years; it’s set back from the highway and comes with a huge vacant lot to turn around in, so you can cut across the highway from there. There’s a left turn lane, but it’s damn sharp; it’s not even a lane wide, which makes it dangerous unless you come to a near-stop.”

  Fab ignored my suggestion and took the turn lane, not paying attention to what I’d said about speed. The car fishtailed in the dirt, but to her credit, she managed to get the SUV back in the lane without a rollover.

  I gripped the arm rest, refusing to let go. “Once you spot the white-and-red mile marker sign that Brad scored at a flea market, there’s a dirt path a few feet beyond. This time, slow down. It’s a deceptive road—looks like you’ll be swallowed up by overgrowth—but right past the trees, the road is clear all the way to Brad’s door.”

  “I take it he doesn’t get many friends stopping by.” Fab slowed at the turn-off, getting us safely off the road. Overhanging branches slapped the windshield, the foliage swallowed us up, and then it cleared to a single dirt lane. Dust flew off the back tires.

  “As far as I know, the only people who want to come out here are Liam and Julie. Brad didn’t want to attract the attention of passing drivers, get them thinking ‘where does that road go?’ Which reminds me,
we don’t have Julie on the list. I did an end-run around her by texting Liam.” I sighed. “She’ll hate that when she finds out; I would.” Hitting the door locks for the third time gave me some comfort, just in case they popped up on their own, which they never did.

  Fab rounded the curve. “Brad’s truck isn’t here.”

  It wasn’t clear to me how Brad had found the deal of the century on a dump of a house in a secluded area surrounded by a swamp. I hadn’t even known it was legal to live out here; it wasn’t like there were housing developments dotting the highway, or any other residential structures, for that matter. When I asked, “How did you, hmm… find this place?” I got a vague response about a friend of a friend, twice removed. At that point, I stopped asking questions.

  He’d undertaken all the renovations on his own, working on the house between fishing trips. The outside still needed a bit of work, but the inside had been completely updated. The neighborhood was, for me, the biggest drawback; a croc wasn’t my idea of a great neighbor. Perhaps Brad was starting to come around to my way of thinking; since he met Julie, he’d spent most of his free time in civilization.

  “Would he park it in the garage?” Fab checked out the structure. Brad had mentioned he was adding one, but failed to mention that it would be a two-story structure that could house several cars.

  “Doubt it.” I eyed the keypad that I guessed controlled the roll-up doors. “Who’s going to hike back in here on the off chance there’s a truck to jack? More than likely, the garage houses a couple of junk sports cars he owns that he insists are collector’s items and worth big money once they’re restored. He was so excited when he was the high bidder at the auction that I kept my doubts to myself.”

  “And that?” Fab pointed to a boat parked under a carport next to the garage.

  “That’s an air boat, and it works. Been out on one?” I asked. Fab shook her head. “Bring a good pair of noise-reducing headphones or prepare to have your ears ring for hours after the ride is over. The engine makes a ton of noise. We can get him to take us on a swamp tour at some point; the boat cuts through anything growing in the water.”