“We don’t give out that information,” the woman said flatly.
“Since one of your deputies gave me a ride here, how do I get a ride home?”
“There’s a pay phone outside.” She motioned to the door.
“Do you have any change?” I held out my palm.
I didn’t hear the phone ring, but she picked it up just then and started talking. Pay phone? That was a dead business. It would be a hike, but I could make it home; I looked down at my feet and apologized in advance for having to do it in flip-flops. Fab would complain the whole way.
As I scanned the parking lot, a disheveled man with ratty jeans hanging low on his hips, a dark t-shirt, and aviator glasses caught my eye. He was headed my way with his arms open.
I sagged at the sight of him. Creole rushed to me and pulled me tight to his chest. Holding and kissing me, he whispered words of assurance that the real murderer would be caught soon and promised there would be no more harassment from local authorities. I hugged him back.
“I’m taking you home,” he said, keeping an arm around me as he guided me back to his truck.
“We have to wait for Fab.”
“She can walk.”
Before I could erupt into a fit, Creole said with a big smile, “Just kidding. Didier got held up by a business call and should be here any minute. I had to promise not to leave her stranded.”
“How can you promise that I won’t be hauled in again and questioned about Carbine’s murder?” I settled back in his arms, head against his chest.
“As it turns out, this is a really big case, and it would be unprofessional of me to talk about it. Local law enforcement knows that you had nothing to do with the deaths of Carbine and his partner, Rocks. Your only involvement is that Carbine chose your house to squat in. Kevin has now gotten the word that he’s not to approach you about the case unless he has a direct order from his boss. He was also reprimanded about over-stepping his authority and trampling your rights.”
“I promise I won’t breathe a word of anything you share with me.” I tapped a finger on his forearm. “Can you tell me why the lineup?”
“Another crazy wanting a piece of the reward money. Claims to have seen Carbine on the beach with a woman that night. Relying on information from a drunk is not the way to make a case.” Creole pushed me into a sitting position. “Here comes your girl.” He inclined his head. “From the swing of her hips, I’d say she weathered her time okay.”
Fab’s Porsche pulled in alongside us, the engine revving. Didier was barely out of the car when Fab came to a halt and recreated her sexy lineup moves: swinging her hips to the right, she twirled around; then, waving her imaginary placard above her head, she swung left.
Didier hauled her off her feet and into his arms. They exchanged some words, and he threw his head back and laughed.
“Bet you—” Creole poked me. “—Fab had to explain what happens in a lineup.” He powered down the window, sticking his head out. “See you later,” he yelled.
I waved and blew kisses.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Opening my eyes, I knew, from the sun streaming in through the windows, that I’d definitely overslept. I’d slept surprisingly well, considering all the drama; it helped that Creole cocooned me with his body, tightening his hold if I tried to move away. I soon stopped struggling and went right back to sleep.
“What?” Creole whispered hoarsely.
I shifted in his arms when my phone rang. He grabbed it from the bedside table, glanced at the screen, then answered, grunting, “Morning.” He held it to his ear, not saying anything, and I could hear a faint voice coming through the speaker. I wondered who it was but wasn’t sure I wanted to know unless it was good news, and judging by the aggravated look on his face, along with his few terse questions, I knew it wasn’t.
“You make sure no one goes near that cottage, and we’ll be there in a couple of hours.” He hung up and laid my phone out of reach.
“I’m tired of asking if someone died.” I started to roll away, and he jerked me back to his side.
“That was Mac. No bodies, just a break-in at Rocks’ cottage.”
“Makes you think Rocks didn’t spill his guts before the bullet to his head,” I said, making a gunshot noise. It wasn’t impressive, but Creole smiled slightly. “Wonder what they were looking for.”
Creole turned my face to his. “How do you know about his death? That was being kept quiet.”
“Mac got to the beach after the body had been hauled away and stuck around to get a firsthand look at anything else that might happen. Then hung around and eavesdropped on an official conversation.” I cocked my head to the side. “Why are you involved? You’re overqualified for a local murder, unless…” I hesitated. “Drugs! Rocks screwed someone? Aww… but when whoever it was came looking for the product or information, Rocks didn’t have the right answers; hence the grisliness of the crime scene. Poor Rocks! Either way, he was a dead man.”
“Are you finished, Nancy?” His voice was low and even. “Rocks was involved with some very dangerous people who don’t hesitate to kill, and you will stay out of it. Promise me.” I tried to wiggle away, and he hauled me back. “Don’t think about moving until I say you can.”
“Bossy much?” A muscle in his jaw tensed. “I thought Nancy Drew was a superstar when I was a kid.” His scowl deepened. “I promise. You know you can trust me with information. I’m not a squealer.”
He tapped the end of my nose. “How do you feel?”
Hmm… change of subject.
“Good—I slept better than ever. Now I need to get dressed. I’m guessing I need to get over to The Cottages. You told Mac ‘we’; do you have the day off?”
He nodded. “I’m your backup today. Didier whisked Fab away after her lineup appearance and took her to a hotel in Miami Beach. They have a favorite hotel up there and were looking forward to an overnight getaway.”
What’s not to like? Five-star accommodations, oversized king bed with an ocean view, room service, and Fab had once told me they always indulged in in-room massages.
“Can I get up now?” I grumbled and then perked up. “I get to drive.”
He snorted, stood and scooped me into his arms, and headed for the bathroom.
* * *
“I don’t know why we couldn’t go through the drive-thru,” I whined. “You’re slower than any girl when it comes to getting out of the house.”
Creole hit his fist on the steering wheel. “Sitting down to eat like most people didn’t kill you, as I’m here to attest. You’ve been under too much stress lately.”
“You sound like Mother, but I know you’re not her; she doesn’t sport morning scruff on her face.” I pointed to the dash clock. “It’s almost noon.” He was close to strangling me, but I knew he wouldn’t. He’d never be able to explain it to Mother.
“Why are you being so annoying?” Creole huffed.
“Because it’s fun.” I blew him a kiss. “Why don’t you summarize the phone call with Mac? It’s my job to come up with a plan. Then I can tell you what to do when we get there. Won’t that be fun?” I looked out the side window and grinned.
“After talking to the chief, I had Mac call 911. The deputies have come and gone.” He grunted. “The cottage Rocks occupied was broken into last night and trashed pretty thoroughly. Took the fronts off the appliances, upended the drawers in the kitchen, and the cushions and mattress were shredded. Mac assured me that Rocks didn’t leave behind any personal belongings.”
“Hmm… about that. Can you promise me that Mac has immunity from handcuffs?”
“What did she lie about?”
I raised my eyebrow.
“No prison time. Now tell me.”
I told him about the boxes Rocks had left behind. I could tell he was disappointed that there wasn’t a smokin
g gun.
“Now tell me about the man’s stay at your property.”
“Rocks made a big splash when he arrived—contagious personality, everyone wanted to be his friend—and peddled his cheap wine. Then the night of the confrontation in the driveway happened, and since then, he’s made himself scarce. Just a sighting or two of him sneaking in or out, always in the middle of the night.”
“I suppose now’s as good a time as any to tell you: Shirl confided to Stephan—late-night pillow talk—that she and Mac had seen a man trying to break in, and that when they called law enforcement, he got away before the cops arrived. After that, Stephan installed security cameras in all four corners of the property.”
Stephan was Shirl’s “insurance salesman” boyfriend, who was really an undercover cop. I rolled my eyes at the mention of his name, knowing that it was phony. Fab and I called him Help because that was the only time we called him. He came through when Creole couldn’t be reached. Fab had warned him that if he hurt Shirl, he’d walk with a limp for the rest of his life. His incredulous stare at that had made me laugh.
Mulling over the pros, and the lack of any cons I could come up with at the moment, I said, “How soon can a monitor be installed in the office? Or if that’s not a good location, then across the street at Mac’s. She should have one anyway.”
“So I guess you’re not upset,” he said sarcastically.
“Heck, no. In addition to catching lawbreakers, we can find out who’s screw… uhm… doing it in the pool and get rid of them.”
Creole leaned back against the seat and laughed.
* * *
Creole cruised into Rocks’ parking space. Thinking back, I’d only seen Rocks’ car a handful of times, and that was right after he moved in.
Mac bounced out the door of the office in a colorful workout outfit: a short, full skirt and mismatched running shoes—one lime, one pink. A thick bandana was holding back her bouffant, which appeared to have been hit by a windstorm.
“When can I start the cleanup?” She marched over and put her hands on her hips.
“Once we get the okay from Creole. If it’s a matter of hauling stuff to the dump,” I said, “put the word out: first guy to show up with a truck gets the job. Let Creole into the shed so he can get a look at the boxes.”
Mac shrieked loud enough to wake a drunk from a nap.
Creole shook his head, rubbing his ear.
“I got you up-front immunity,” I reassured her.
“Give a girl a heart attack.” Mac waved to Creole, disappearing inside Rocks’ cottage.
I followed her in and surveyed the mess, wondering if they’d found what they were looking for. It looked as though the cottage had been upended and set back down. The upholstered furniture was thrashed and the appliances looked iffy, but there was no structural damage. When I first inherited the property, this chaos would have freaked me out, but sadly, I’d seen worse.
Returning from the shed, Creole said, “Leave the boxes where they are and an officer will come out and collect them. They’ll ask for you, Mac.”
“Your professional opinion?” I asked Creole.
He shook his head, scanning the room. “Taking apart the appliances is overkill. Whatever they were looking for, they wanted it badly. Doubt Rocks was any help.” Creole took one last look around. “I’ve got yellow ‘keep the hell out’ tape in my truck. I say we run it across the front door; that would deter a return visit. From most people, anyway.” He winked down at me. “If they send someone to drive by to gauge your reaction, it sends the message that you called the cops, and they’ll find out that everything was hauled off.”
“Maybe you could accidently forget to take the roll with you,” Mac said excitedly. “Next busload of Cruz relatives, I’ll wrap an entire cottage, post a ‘Keep Out’ sign. It’s better than a staged fight.”
“I thought I made myself clear about scheduling activities that can bring legal charges and arrests.” Creole moved in front of Mac and glared down at her. “Do we need to have another chat?”
Mac straightened to her full height, her girls shoved out, face red with irritation. “I cancelled that fight, and there hasn’t been another one.” She glared back. “Planning the entertainment is a thankless job.”
I tried to smooth it over. “Cruz appreciates you—a lot. His rent-a-relatives never complain; they’re highly complementary, mostly about you. What would I do without you? Hire Fab?” That made her laugh and eased the tension.
Creole enveloped Mac in a hug. “I’m not criticizing you. I’m looking out for you.” He patted her hair, which stuck up about a half-foot above her head, giving it a closer look and wrinkling his nose. “I’ll get the tape; you lock up. Most people will think ‘police’; they don’t know you can get a roll at the hardware store.” He turned around when he got to the door. “If you make your story too outlandish, Kevin may question you. Tell him to mind his own damn business and call me if he has a problem.”
“You enjoying your new partner?” Mac asked as we walked back outside.
“He likes to get his own way, but then, so does Fab, so I should be used it.”
We both laughed.
Creole handed Mac the tape. “Decorate away.” He grabbed my hand. “One more thing.” He motioned for Mac to follow him to the office, and ushered us in, where he told her about the security cameras.
“Can we get two monitors?” Mac asked me. “That way, Shirl and I can play cards and watch the late-night antics. Better than television. You know it’s just reruns right now.”
Creole’s lips quirked. “Can I use your laptop? The video with the man’s face on it was forwarded to me.”
Mac plopped in a chair, and I took Fab’s place on the couch and scoped out the street through the blinds. Creole sat behind the desk. He accessed the file and turned the laptop around for us to see. “Seen this guy before?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “That’s the guy who shot at Rocks the night of his party.”
“Time to find this man, have a chat, and see what he’s got to say.” Creole snapped the lid shut.
“If you can print out the picture, I can get it checked out with my sources,” I said.
Creole leveled a stare at me. “That’s probably a law enforcement connection, and the person could lose their job. I’d like to meet these sources of yours.”
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but not going to happen.”
Mac laughed.
The office door flew open, smashing into the small table that sat in the corner. Cruz, angry as a bear, yelled, “Where’s my grandmother?” He zeroed in on Mac.
Oh hell, I’d forgotten about Grandma.
After a cursory check from head to toe, I refrained from giving Cruz a thumbs-up. It must be a rare day off, and he wore expensive casual as though it were designed for him. I also kept “nice legs” to myself.
“Don’t make me ask a second time,” he snarled and zeroed in on me. He acknowledged Creole with a nod.
“You failed to mention that we were to double as jailers or that she is… active.” I refrained from saying, “annoying trouble,” and pointed at Mac. “She’ll know.”
“Now I know how Fab feels when you throw her under the bus.” Mac made a face. “Where is Fab, anyway?”
“She’s off having fun with her boyfriend,” I said.
The door crashed into the small table again, courtesy of Cruz’s foot. He erupted in a roar, kicking it closed; it popped back open, and he gave it a second kick.
Creole stood. “Enough. You break the door, and you’ll buy one ten times better.”
The two men engaged in a glare-off.
Mac stood and stepped between them, although Creole was still behind the desk. “Try cottage eight. She spends a lot of time there with her vacation lay… boyfriend, or whatever you want to call it.” She
waved her hand in Cruz’s face. “I did my best, even threatened the professor, but the man is a woman magnet in his tighty-whities and boots. One look, and Maricruz fell straight into lust.”
Creole sat down, laughing.
“If he’s touched my grandmother, he’ll spend the rest of his life in prison.” Cruz threw open the door and marched out.
I yelled after him, “It was consensual.” I looked back at Mac.
“She was the pursuer; not that Crum fought her off,” Mac reassured me, sticking her head out the door. “The lovebirds were supposed to show back up this morning, but I haven’t seen them yet.”
“Let’s sneak out before Cruz gets back,” Creole said.
“Oh no you don’t.” Mac blocked the doorway. “I’m not going to be the one to tell him that they went off for an adventurous screw someplace.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Stop laughing.” She pointed a finger at Creole. “Cruz is headed back, and he looks madder than before, if that’s possible.”
“Get that man on the phone.” Cruz barked out the words the moment he appeared in the doorway.
“I get that you’re frustrated, but don’t take it out on these two,” Creole said.
A coughing attack from behind Cruz made everyone turn.
Now what?
Cruz moved aside. Joseph wiped his mouth on his shirt sleeve, Svetlana’s legs wrapped around his waist. “Mr. Campion.” He flashed a toothy, stained smile. “Saw you knocking on Crum’s door—he went camping with his girlfriend. A little overnight on the beach. They’ll be back tomorrow.”
Creole lowered his head, and his shoulders shook.
I squeezed my eyes closed. Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, they did. I struggled not to laugh.
“Girlfriend? Grandmother? Where?” Cruz demanded. He eyed the rubber doll suspiciously. “What is that?”
Svetlana had on a low-cut sundress, her cleavage on display, and Joseph had chosen her blond ponytail wig.
Hurricane in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 10) Page 17