Mother had sold her formal furniture and opted for a breezy beach look, fresh from the pages of a decorating magazine. The walls were painted a sea-foam green, and she’d chosen each piece of furniture with an eye towards comfort.
The doorbell rang. Spoon stood and stalked to the door. “What in the hell?” he barked. “This is a security building; two visitors within minutes of one another, and both bypass it.”
“That’s what you get for associating with people who carry lockpicks,” I called after him.
Mother zeroed in on my tennis shoes. “You’re in trouble.” She pointed. She turned at the sound of voices coming from the entry and stood to hug Creole and Didier.
Creole winked at me and sat in a chair opposite the couch. Fab and Didier sat on an old wrought-iron child’s bed that Mother had repainted and made pillows for, which made for a comfortable place to sit. I’d staked a claim in case she ever wanted to get rid of it.
Spoon, the consummate host, filled drink orders—beer for the guys and water for the women. I stood and motioned for Spoon to take my place on the couch next to Mother, leaning down and kissing her cheek as I moved to a seat on the other side of her.
“Mother, there’s no easy way to tell you this, so I’m going to blurt it out—Brad is missing. He left bogus messages for Didier, and I believe Julie, and hasn’t been seen since then.”
“He’s, uh…” Mother said softly.
Spoon wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against him.
“Fab and I spent the day checking out every location where he could be and have come up with nothing. We started at the docks in Lauderdale, then the Everglades, and ended up here in Tarpon. Phil checked the hospitals in South Florida; he hadn’t been admitted, and no accidents were reported. He’s not a guest in the Florida jail system, and his truck hasn’t been impounded.”
Mother’s eyes filled with tears. “What do you think happened?”
I also started to cry, scooting closer and putting my head on Mother’s shoulder.
Fab moved to the coffee table and sat in front of Mother. “We don’t know. Freak accident, possibly. Kidnap? But he’s not high-profile, and there’s been no ransom demand. We’re not going to stop looking for him. Tomorrow, we’ll spread the word to all of our low-life connections that we’re looking for information that leads to Brad being found.”
“What about law enforcement?” Spoon asked.
“That’s Mother’s call.” I looked across at Creole. “What do you think?”
“Start from the beginning, such as when you began to worry about your brother and why. Tell us who you talked to and everything about the conversations. Everyone here, look at your phone messages to see if you have any received at about the same time as Brad’s last message. Try to remember the last time you actually talked to him and when the last time you laid eyes on him was.” Creole made eye contact with everyone as he talked.
“I’ll take notes,” Didier offered. “I’d volunteer Fab, but nobody could read her writing.”
Mother smiled at her, patting her hand.
Creole nodded and, grim-faced, said, “I’m thinking we report it to the chief. That way, I can ask him to put out an all-points bulletin on Brad’s truck. If he takes charge, we’ll be kept up to date on any new information.” He pointed a finger at me to start.
“It started with a conversation with Didier about why Brad hadn’t shown for a meeting. Then I dreamed last night that Brad was trying to tell me something. Fab knew I was worried, probably because I was constantly checking my phone. So she took me to look for him.” I smiled at her and she returned a squinty frown. “We left early, and she drove straight to Ft. Lauderdale, so I could get some answers, and possibly a more definitive return date for the fishing trip. But no one had seen Brad in a couple of weeks. Fab suggested we check all the places he could possibly be; even if the stop turned up nothing, at least we could cross it off the list.” I said to Mother, “The last thing I wanted to do was worry you over a gut feeling, and if it came down to telling you Brad’s missing, I wanted to be able to tell you as much as possible.”
“Nobody just ups and disappears, except those that walk away from their lives,” Spoon said. “That’s not Brad. He got any enemies?”
“Hardly. He’s the guy everyone wants to have a beer with; will talk to anyone.” I looked to Fab for confirmation.
“Sounds like his sister.” She nodded.
“He’s better at it than me. Case in point,” I said to Mother. “We met Toady today at the end of his shotgun. Luckily for us, he fell for Fab at first glance.”
Fab wrinkled her nose.
Creole’s fist hit the table. “Didier?” he grouched.
Didier’s hands shot in the air. “I didn’t know either.” He tugged on Fab’s hair, and she wrestled it back.
“Toady’s harmless,” Mother interjected. “Interesting background—war veteran, career military. He’s the caretaker when Brad isn’t around. Did he have any ideas?”
I grimaced. “We got him to promise not to shoot anyone, and instead to call with a license number if anyone comes snooping around. He was a bit dodgy when it came to the actual promise, but I can hope.”
At Creole’s direction, we were asked to remember everything we could about the last time we saw Brad. Everyone agreed that the last time they saw him was the family dinner. The next contact from him came in the form of texts, and those went to Julie and Didier.
We agreed that someone else had to be involved, and that their first mistake was that they didn’t know Brad had turned over the operation of his fishing business to another man. Whoever was behind this, and I was certain my brother had no hand in his own disappearance, wanted us to believe all was well and didn’t want us looking for him.
“Tomorrow morning,” Mother interrupted when everyone was talking at once, “we meet at Madison’s house. The three of us—” She included Fab in her finger-waving. “—will go to The Cottages and break the news to Julie.”
“We want a look at her text messages. If she’s not receptive, Fab can relocate her phone long enough to get a look,” I said.
“What if I get caught?”
“Oops.”
Mother hugged Fab. “I’ll cover for you. ‘I thought that was my phone and told her to grab it.’”
Spoon groaned.
“My turn.” I lightly shoved Fab out of the way and hugged Mother. “We’ll find him,” I whispered in her ear. “Promise.”
“I know you will.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Time to wake up,” Creole rumbled in my ear, nipping the lobe.
I opened one eye. “It’s dark out,” I whined and nestled back into his chest.
“Your mother is here. She’d make a terrible burglar; she makes too much noise, most of it coming from that heavy-footed boyfriend of hers.”
“What’s the plan?”
“You and I are going to work together.” He rolled me over, bringing us face-to-face. “We’ll share information so that we’re not duplicating legwork. I’ll spread the word through my associates and street snitches.” He kissed me. “Text me a picture of Brad.” His phone buzzed on the bedside table; picking it up, he flashed me the screen, which showed “Chief” in all caps.
Creole rolled onto his back, answered, and ran down everything that had been discussed the previous night. I nestled my head on his chest. His boss asked questions; he fired back answers. They discussed a few theories: walked away, freak accident, kidnapped, why no ransom demand? Finally, Creole thanked his boss and told him he’d keep in touch.
“Harder’s question at the end was: ‘Does anyone have a grudge?’ I know we talked about that last night, but think about it. Unhappy business associate? Past, present?”
“The plus of keeping everything in the family, at least in this one, is that people haven�
�t disappeared before.”
Creole threw back the sheets, picked me up and heaved me over his shoulder, and headed to the bathroom.
* * *
Creole and I came downstairs hand in hand and walked into the kitchen, where Mother and Spoon sat at the island, sun shining through the garden window. On the counter sat a number of pink boxes from The Bakery Café that held enough food to feed a crowd. Next to the sink, two coffee pots sat side by side, along with bags of coffee.
I kissed Mother’s cheek. “You started the coffee?” I half-laughed.
“That’s the stupidest thing.” Spoon rolled his eyes. “You all can’t agree on one kind? How many coffee makers do you have?”
“There are a couple more in the garage that got the boot after producing an inferior taste.” I hugged him. “Currently, we use those two, one for the designer brew that tastes and smells like thick swill and one for the pedestrian brand for loverboy here.” I winked at Creole, who was busy filling his coffeemaker. “Happy you’re here.” I turned to Mother. “Why don’t you go upstairs and kick Fab and Didier’s door?”
“I heard that.” Fab breezed into the kitchen, Didier behind her, a big smile on his face. “So mean.” She wiggled her nose at me.
The six of us settled around the island.
“Talked to the chief this morning,” Creole informed everyone. “He’s taking jurisdiction, doesn’t expect any blowback from the sheriff’s department. Brad’s been officially listed as missing. Harder’s going to distribute Brad’s pic and license plate number.”
“Spoon and I went over everything again after you left,” Mother said. “I’m unable to think of even a smidge of a motive of a single person harboring resentment. Brad really does get along with everyone.”
Spoon cleared his throat.
I smiled at Spoon. “You’d be besties if you weren’t… ah… dating his mother.”
Everyone laughed, cutting the tension.
“Didier, any business deals go south; you beat anyone out of a good deal?” I asked.
“Fab and I talked about that. Nothing I could come up with. In real estate, you’re not always assured of getting the deal, so if someone outbids you, you move on.” Didier paused. “I can get us publicity.”
Creole shook his head. “I suggest we wait a few days on that one. If someone is holding him, they might get spooked at seeing Brad’s pic on the news. The text messages say he’ll be back in a couple of days. Let’s wait and see if there is another message.”
“We’ve got great hacker connections. She does, anyway.” I pointed to Fab. “An artiste, I heard him brag.” Noticing Didier’s scowl, I said, “I can ask if it’s possible to pick up a signal and, hence, a location?”
“I’ve known Gunz a long time, and if he can’t get the job done, he’ll refer to us to someone who can. I’ll call him today. Have you forgotten he doesn’t like you?” Fab asked me.
“Feeling’s mutual. Money is all he’s interested in. He’ll be pleased when I don’t haggle.”
“Try not calling him any names.” Fab put her arm around Mother. “We’ll drive to The Cottages first and talk to Julie.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Spoon had taken his and mother’s mugs to the sink and was staring out the garden window. “Julie and Kevin are stomping up the driveway, neither looking too happy.”
Kevin cop-knocked on the front door, louder than usual, which wasn’t a good sign.
“Shall we flip to see who gets to open the door?” I asked.
“Oh, Madison.” Mother shook her head and turned away, but I knew she was smiling.
“I volunteer.” Spoon bared his teeth, already halfway to the door.
“Find out what he wants before you let him in,” Fab called.
Spoon flashed his scary smile and opened the door. After the exchange of a few words, he let them in.
Julie stalked in ahead of Kevin. “I suppose that all of you know that Brad is missing—hurt somewhere or worse?” Her blue eyes shot sparks.
I wasn’t sure exactly who she was leveling her accusation at. Fab and I exchanged a look that said, “happy it’s not me that has to do the explaining.”
Mother crossed over to her and hugged her. “We were coming over to see you this morning.”
“How did you find out?” Creole asked, his voice softer than the irritation level in his eyes.
Julie shot a question back. “Why hasn’t this been reported to the police?”
“It has been,” Creole informed her. “Now, can you answer my question?”
“I overheard Mac having a conversation with someone in the office earlier. ‘You’ll be happy to know that Brad isn’t in the hospital’,” Julie said angrily.
Eavesdropping. She must have learned that from Fab.
Fab must have read my mind because she glared at me.
Spoon stood and offered his stool to Julie.
Kevin, who had been silent, stepped forward. “I checked before coming over here, and no report has been filed.”
“I don’t want you involved,” I said adamantly.
“Your entire family looks suspicious, knowing you have a missing family member, but no one calls in a report,” he countered.
“You need to clean out your ears,” Creole barked. “If you want in on the investigation, you call Chief Harder, but I already know he’ll tell you to fuck off.”
Didier laughed at his friend.
The look of outraged shock on Kevin’s face amused me. “I’ll take it up with the sheriff, since this is his jurisdiction, and we’ll see if Harder tells him that.”
“Let’s all calm down,” Mother said and turned to Julie. “Creole can update you. If you don’t mind, we’d like to see any text messages that Brad sent you since the family dinner, and if he contacts you again, we’d like to know immediately.”
Fab slipped off her chair and moved to stand between me and Didier. Creole was behind me, and I leaned against him.
Creole related what we’d talked about at Mother’s. He said nothing about our future plans.
“Anything unusual happen before the family dinner?” Didier asked Julie. “Any issues with anyone?”
Julie shook her head, her anger deflated. “Nothing. We spent the day together and had a good time.” She passed her phone to Creole. The one text message that she’d received was almost identical to Didier’s, essentially: “gone fishing, back in a week.”
“Now you know as much as we do,” Mother comforted her.
“If I get a vote, I think this should be left to law enforcement,” Julie said. “Unprofessional behavior could get him killed, if…”
Thankfully, she left the sentence unfinished.
After a moment’s hesitation, she continued. “No one tells Liam. He’ll just worry. I’ll tell him when we know something for sure.”
“When Liam finds out what you’ve kept from him… I hope it doesn’t backfire on you.” I didn’t want to be part of any deception, but it was her place to tell him or not.
“Let’s go,” Kevin said to his sister. “You haven’t seen the last of me. Two open cases—an unsolved murder and a missing family member that you don’t seem too concerned about.” He crossed to the front door, holding it open. “I’m surprised you haven’t bailed out Miss January.” He made eye contact with me.
“Arrested? What for? She didn’t get a phone call?”
“You done with the questions?” Kevin snapped.
Three pairs of male eyes turned on him, all of them angry at his snotty tone.
“Drunk at the grocery store, riding one of those motorized carts, and knocked over a display. She got off to help, fell, and rolled around on the floor.” The last part was said with disgust. “She could have called anyone she wanted, but didn’t know anyone’s number.”
“And you,” I ground out, �
��couldn’t call for her? You certainly have my number.”
Creole’s arms tightened around me.
“A night in jail won’t kill the old drunk.” He jerked his head, motioning his sister out the door.
“You piece of—”
“Madison,” Mother hissed. She walked Julie to the front door and kissed her cheek, then closed the door behind her.
“I say we double-team Julie and make friends with her, so she’s not so distrustful. Your brother would want that,” Fab said.
“You’re right, but don’t let it go to your head,” I said. “I’ve got to get to the jail before Miss January goes into withdrawal. There’s a small window in the morning when she’s sober.”
Creole moved to the end of the island, signaling for attention. “Everyone leave your phone on. Anything new comes in, text me. We’ll meet back here at the end of the day and exchange updates. I have the day off, and I’m going to hit the streets and see what I can turn up. Didier’s going to the jobsite to make it look like business as usual. Spoon, you get with your connections.”
“I’ll stay here,” Mother said.
“Happy you’re here,” I whispered in Creole’s ear, hugging him tight. “What do you want Fab and me to do?”
Creole hugged me tighter, nodding at Fab. “Call Phil and have her on standby to run any new info we get that might need to be checked out. Don’t forget your hacker friend.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
I was still on hold with the sheriff’s department when Fab pulled into their parking lot. “I’ll pay the bail, and hopefully, they can tell me how long it will take to get Miss January processed out. You may want to ditch me and come back when I call.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll make phone calls. Much as I hate it here, it will give us time to brainstorm about Brad.” Fab powered down the window, and a wave of fresh beach air blew in.
“Don’t shoot anyone,” I admonished and shut the door before she could say anything.
I knew the drill, having been here before to bail someone out. Once inside the door, I headed straight to the cashier. They made it easy to pay up—cash or credit card, the latter with a hefty fee tacked on. It didn’t take long with only one person ahead of me, and she was about done. There were four other people waiting for the magic door to open, signaling a release.
Hurricane in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 10) Page 15