Hurricane in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 10)

by Deborah Brown

  The word “swamp” had Fab cringing and me laughing.

  Fab turned the SUV around and parked in front of Brad’s door. Suddenly, an old weathered man appeared, the shotgun in his hand already cocked and pointed at the center of the windshield.

  I sobered quickly.

  “Stay calm,” Fab said, leaving her hands on the steering wheel. “No sudden movements, and no guns on our part.”

  I cracked the passenger window two inches and yelled, “We’re here to see Brad Westin.”

  “He’s not home,” he hollered in a gravelly voice.

  “Have you seen him?” I yelled again and whispered to Fab, “If we’re going to die, I’d rather it be inside my vehicle.”

  “Who’s asking?” His gun never wavered.

  “His sister.”

  “Liar. He told me she’d never come out here. No appreciation for the ambiance.”

  “Turn on that folksy charm of yours,” Fab hissed. “He gets antsy and blows the windshield to bits, I don’t like our odds.”

  “You so owe me.” I lowered the window and stuck my head out. “You couldn’t convince me to step foot in this croc hole for anything but Brad. I’m worried about him. No one’s seen him in a couple of days.” I gripped the window ledge to hold myself steady. “You kill me, and he’ll feed your scrawny ass to your neighbors one bite at a time.” My gaze moved to the swampy water.

  He lowered the butt of his shotgun to the ground. “You got a name?”

  “Madison Westin. Any more test questions?”

  “He’s got a highfalutin job in the city; what is it?”

  “He has a fishing business out of Lauderdale but has hung up his fishing pole—for how long remains to be seen. The apartment reno is in the Cove, which we hope will be a quick sale, so he doesn’t get into the business of renting to derelicts.” One of us in the family was enough.

  The man spit a stream into the nearest bush. “I can see where renting to my brethren could be a pain in the backside.”

  The man’s scrawny build was deceptive; his dirty sleeveless wife-beater showed off well-defined biceps. He grinned liked a lunatic, his front, and only, tooth wobbling. “You got the same plain way of speaking. I can see the resemblance.” He crossed to my side of the SUV, sticking his hand out. “Toady.” Up close, the man had the skin texture of a reptile.

  “Madison. Sorry. I don’t shake hands.” Even if I did, I wouldn’t shake one that was covered in layers of dirt that blacked out his nails and continued up both arms. “When was the last time you saw Brad?”

  In the excitement of the meet and greet, Fab had slipped out from behind the wheel unnoticed, creeping around the front of the SUV before brandishing her gun. “We’re both excellent shots—we hit what we aim at the first time. You can only shoot one of us; then the other shoots you and leaves you to bleed to death. Now behave yourself.” She shook the muzzle at him. “I’m Fab.”

  Gauging by the stupid smile on Toady’s face, he’d just fallen in love or lust as his eyes devoured every inch of Fab. Another male for her fan club. He spit on his hand and slicked back his greasy hair, which had no effect, not making any effort to stop staring.

  Fab flashed her deranged smile and winked at him, then walked in the direction of the house.

  “Wait.” Toady held out his hand. “Where’s she going?”

  I climbed out and stepped in front of him. “Fab’s a snooper; she won’t be satisfied until she gives the place the once-over. Don’t worry, she’s so good, you’ll never know she was here.” I ignored Toady’s rumblings. “Brad never mentioned a Mr. Toady… so exactly where did you come from?” I looked around at the dense brush.

  “Ain’t no mister, just Toady. Brad and me are neighbors, amigos; my mansion is over thataway.” He waved his arm behind him in a circular motion. “I look after the property when Brad’s away. What’s his girlfriend’s name?” he asked suddenly.

  “Julie, and her son is Liam.”

  He gave me a nod. “I like that kid.”

  “Liam’s the star in the family.” I tried to smile, thinking about how devastated he’d be if something happened to Brad. I had to stop thinking the worst. “When did you last see my brother?”

  “A couple of weeks ago. He and the kid blew by, checked out the joint. We shared a beer, and then he had to get back to some shindig your ma was having at her house.” Toady shifted from one foot to another, looking over my shoulder and waiting for his true love to reappear. “He said something about her cooking, then laughed. I figured she didn’t know her way around a frying pan and suggested they eat ahead of time.”

  I knew Fab was headed in our direction when Toady stopped talking to concentrate on her every step. In her usual style, she quietly appeared at my side. “All locked up. No sign anyone’s been around. Maybe him.” She rewarded him with another smile and a wink.

  I did my best not to gag.

  A strange noise erupted from Toady’s mouth, and he looked ready to faint—which I’d thought only happened to heroines in romances, which he was not. If he did, he was going down in a heap.

  “If I leave you my phone number, will you call if anyone suspicious shows up? Please don’t shoot anyone; just get the license number, and I’ll run a check.” I felt like waving my arms to get Toady’s attention, but when he grunted, I knew he’d heard me.

  “Brad got me one of them mobile phones. When I need to use it, I plug it into the generator, and it charges while I talk.”

  Fab jerked on my shirt. A not-very-subtle way of saying, “Move it.” She started around to the other side of the car. Toady raced around her and opened the door, offering his hand to help her in, which she ignored.

  I handed a business card to Fab. She gave it a confused once-over, then lowered the window and handed it off to Toady, who took it and rewarded her with a one-tooth smile. She gunned the engine, honked, waved, and drove rather sedately back to the main road.

  I, for one, was relieved when the tires hit asphalt.

  “I need a drink,” Fab said.

  “Make that two.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The drive back to the Cove was uneventful, thankfully with relatively light traffic. Fab hit the fast lane and owned the road, making record time.

  As we turned the corner to The Cottages, I said, “Park in Mac’s driveway; that way, we can sneak across the street, hopefully unnoticed. Pesky problems have to wait until we find Brad.” My phone dinged. “Text from Phil.” I glanced over at Fab, then read it. “No sign of your brother. Not in any hospital in South Florida. His truck hasn’t been impounded.”

  “Who was the last person to actually talk to Brad?” Fab asked.

  “You need to back in so we don’t have to hang over the seats to enjoy the view.” I twirled my finger. “The last time was the family dinner, and I don’t think anyone’s seen him since.”

  Fab hated to be told how to drive and squealed the tires into the driveway in protest. So much for a low-key arrival. A knock on the back window made me jump. Fab hit the locks, the back passenger door opened, and Mac slid into the seat.

  “Happy you didn’t crash into the house,” Mac huffed.

  Fab ignored her.

  I turned in my seat. “Why aren’t you in the office, doing something important?”

  “Because,” she sniped, “I needed a beer and a shot. But by the time I got across the street, I settled on aspirin.” She hiked her ankle-length skirt above her knees, crossing her legs.

  “Get your shoes off the seat,” Fab ordered.

  Mac screwed up her face, her tongue making a brief appearance. “They’re sitting on my skirt.” She toed off one ugly loafer, which hit the floor, then the other. “Happy?” she asked the glaring eyes in the rearview mirror. “Do you want the bad news first or the aggravating news? Don’t ask for the good; there isn’t any.”


  I covered my face with my hands. One problem at a time, please.

  “This meeting is adjourned, and we’re regrouping by the pool. You—” Fab pointed at Mac. “—bring the bottled water.” She got out of the SUV and snapped her fingers at me through the windshield. “Hurry up” was implied. She put her arm around me, and we hustled across the street. “Sitting poolside with our feet in the water will perk us up.”

  I silently agreed and, when we rounded the corner, was happy that no one was currently swimming or sunning.

  Fab held the gate open for Mac, who reappeared with a small bucket of water on ice and produced our favorite snack cookies from her pocket. She removed her skirt, showing off purple bicycle shorts, and threw it over a chair.

  The three of us sat on the edge of the pool, feet in the water.

  Fab took charge. “There is one piece of business that takes precedence over anything else. When was the last time you saw Brad?” she asked Mac.

  Mac looked between the two of us. “A few days ago, playing basketball with Liam. Julie came home, and the three of them went to dinner, dragging Kevin along. Brad stayed overnight and was gone early the next morning.”

  “Keep this situation to yourself; no one needs to know we’re asking questions.” Fab ran down what we knew.

  “Not a word to Julie or Liam, and certainly not Kevin,” I said. “At least, not until we have a few answers and not just a list of questions.”

  “Anything I can do, call, and you know that means anytime.” Mac looked thoughtful. “You want me to share with Shirl? She can keep her mouth shut.”

  I nodded and said, “Tell her she can call me anytime, and that goes for you too.”

  “The bad news.” Fab flicked water on Mac.

  “If Maricruz Campion ever comes back, I’m going on vacation.” Mac cupped water in both hands, and let it drip down the front of her shirt. “Maricruz is not like the rest of the family—as in quiet and keeps to herself. You might as well know we had words today.”

  “What did she do?” Fab demanded.

  “The witch started the morning by announcing to Miss January that her f-ing cat was dead. Miss January cried her eyes out. Whose grandmother ever uses that word? I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off the woman, but I had my hands full with Miss January. Maricruz then skipped down to Joseph’s. He had gone inside for a pee or a beer, probably both.”

  “Spit out the rest,” Fab snapped.

  “Her next victim was Svetlana. Granted, there was only one other chair besides Joseph’s, but to throw Svet to the ground…” Mac’s eyebrows rose along with her anger. “Joseph unleashed a verbal smackdown on the snotty woman, and she popped the folding chair closed and was ready to bash his head in with it. I tucked my skirt in my shorts, raced to his cottage, and jerked the chair out of her hands mid-air.”

  Fab laughed, and I threatened her with a handful of water.

  “Is Miss January okay? Joseph?” I asked. They were major pains in the backside, but I’d come to love them both.

  “The liquor delivery guy woke Miss January up; she’d fallen asleep in her chair on the porch. Before she disappeared back inside, I explained that Maricruz was a cat-hater and had made up the story because she’s a mean-ass. I offered to take Miss January to breakfast; that’s when she told me that food in the morning makes her barf.” Mac imitated a sick cat.

  “You didn’t need to share the last part,” Fab said.

  “I know, but then I’d miss the faces you two make and my chance for a laugh at your expense.” Mac smiled. “Then I told Mrs. Campion to make herself scarce before I beat the hell out of her. She pitched another bitch, reminiscent of a temper tantrum. Crum trudged out to stick his nose in stuff that’s none of his business. He flashed his superior smile, whispered in her ear, and they strolled off to the beach. He lifted his skirt, flashing his ass; he’s lucky I didn’t put a bullet in that saggy lump.”

  “Svet? Did she survive?” I asked.

  “Svet’s made of heavy duty latex.” Mac grinned. “Just a little dirt, which I was able to get right off. If she required a return trip to the doll hospital, I’d have demanded overnight service and billed Cruz.”

  I feared asking my next question. “Is it all quiet now?”

  “Right now, it is. But I have more bad news; I wanted to save this next part for last so I could end on a high note.”

  “What already?” Fab asked in exasperation. “You’re coming dangerously close to getting your bouffant drenched.”

  “Last night around midnight, a man came lurking around, checking out the property. He walked the perimeter and around each cottage. I called 911 from a burner phone about an attempted break-in in progress, but it was like he knew the deputies were on their way because right when the police car turned the corner, he disappeared out to the beach.” Mac paused. “Wrestler build with a paunch. Bald or next to no hair. I didn’t get a good look at his face; he managed to keep to the shadows.”

  “I’m happy you didn’t confront him.” I stood and got out another water, dragging a chair into the shade. “Any clue what he wanted?”

  “My first thought was that he was an unfriendly associate of Rocks’. Who has disappeared, by the way. In my opinion, he’s in hiding. I decided a quick peek couldn’t hurt, so I opened the door and looked around; he’s moved out except for a box of wine bottles and two others that were taped up. No, I didn’t look inside.” Mac splashed water on Fab and jumped out of the pool.

  Bad idea. Fab took it gracefully, but she’d serve up payback at some point, and Mac would be drenched when she finished.

  Fab motioned to me. “We’ve got a couple of more stops to make.”

  “Don’t do anything dangerous,” I admonished Mac.

  The three of us walked down the driveway together. Mac paused in front of the office, waved, and went inside.

  “You get rid of Grandma and stop renting to the likes of Rocks, and this place will be back to being all respectable.” Fab unlocked the SUV’s doors.

  I laughed and slid in next to her. “I’m certain I’ve never heard the words ‘respectable’ and ‘The Cottages’ in the same sentence.”

  “Once we check out the jobsite, we’re out of places to go.” Fab pulled out into the street.

  “That’s probably a waste of time. Didier goes there every day. We’re doing the drive-by just to check it off the list.”

  Traffic was stacked up on the road through town. Fab, knowing all the shortcuts, used a couple of them, which also put a stop to her complaining about stopping at every light. It was late afternoon already, and the construction workers had packed up and gone home for the day.

  Fab pulled up in front of the building, and I jumped out and ran to the front door, jiggling the knob. I sidestepped down the ramp and surveyed the underground garage—not a vehicle in sight. I walked into the middle of the street and looked up at the building; everything looked the same as the last time we were here.

  “Now what?”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Mother’s condo,” I directed Fab.

  Picking up my phone, I said, “Spoon.” He answered in his usual friendly growl, and I alerted him not to tell Mother that I was the one calling or that we were on our way to her house. He started to grill me, and I ended the call with, “Be sure you have your pants on.” Fab and I laughed.

  Fearing that Mother’s sixth sense regarding her children would kick in when I called and wanted to stop by unexpectedly, I’d decided the surprise option was better; that way, she wouldn’t spend time worrying before I got there.

  Fab watched out of the corner of her eye as I opened the ashtray and fished out a quarter. “I’ll do the flipping; not just because you’re driving, but because I don’t trust you. No offense.”

  “What are you up to?”

  “One of us should call Creole an
d Didier and have the two of them meet us at Mother’s.”

  “You’re fond of compromises; call your boyfriend and I’ll do the same.”

  “Don’t take your eyes off the road to glare at me.” I flipped the coin in the air, caught it, and said, “Oh look.” I held up the quarter. “You’re making the phone calls.”

  “You cheater,” she hissed. “I didn’t get to call heads or tails.”

  “I did it for you.” I smiled sweetly.

  Fab pulled off the road into a drive-thru liquor store parking lot. As she pulled into a space, two scruffy men holding brown bags to their lips jumped back. She picked up her phone and clicked away; a minute later, she tossed it on the dashboard. “Happy?” she asked, nudging her way back into traffic. Her phone rang; she answered and carried on the conversation in French. “They’re coming together,” she told me after hanging up. “And no, I didn’t give them details.”

  The question of where Brad was loomed large. To cut the tension, Fab and I traded juvenile jokes on the way to Mother’s.

  Mother had sold her house in Coral Gables and, after much drama and with Brad’s help, found a top-floor three-bedroom condo in Tarpon Cove. It was shotgun style, with all of the rooms having a view of the Atlantic Ocean.

  It was in a gated community, which was well maintained by an army of gardeners who came weekly, along with a muscular pool duo. We parked in visitor parking and didn’t bother announcing ourselves over the intercom, opting instead to bang on the door to announce our arrival.

  Spoon opened the door. “Come in.” He stared down at me and then shook his head.

  I slid past him, Fab behind me. Mother stood in the living room. “It can’t be too bad.” She hugged us both. “I’m not getting a call from the jail.”

  “Some children might be offended at your humor.” I hugged her hard. She wiggled out of my hold. I pulled her over to the couch and sat down next to her.