Hurricane in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 10)

by Deborah Brown

  Tired of standing in the middle of the driveway, I walked over to the barbeque area. From where I sat at one of the concrete tables, I could observe the comings and goings.

  “You want some gross details?”

  “Where’s Fab when I need her?” I groaned. “Go ahead.”

  “The medics weren’t here long before one ran back out the door and got sick in the flowers. Apologized, muttering he’d never seen a body so decomposed. Score apparently died in bed, a sheet and blanket up to his neck. When the medic pulled back the covers, there was a rush of bugs skittering away from the decomposed body, which had been partially skeletonized. They’re guessing he’s been dead a couple of months.”

  I cupped my hands over my face, rubbing my eyes and hoping I didn’t remember a word of this conversation. “In all of this, I haven’t heard the word ‘murder.’ So why the arrest?”

  “I’d bet on natural causes. Before he went in search of his grandmother, Cruz mentioned misdemeanor abuse of a corpse. He also ticked off state health code provisions regulating how bodies must be handled, violations of which are punishable as criminal offenses.”

  I groaned.

  “Where’s your friend—you know, the sexy one? She’s going to be mad when she has to ask me for pictures of the body. I believe I’ll hold out for a favor.”

  Kevin whistled for a medic, who came over and checked out Miss January. A moment later, he called for his partner, who rolled up a gurney.

  I jumped up and ran over, stopping next to Kevin. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m not sure she was ready to be discharged from the hospital. She looked more like death than usual when I got here. That could be because she was upset at knowing her boyfriend was gone. I’ve seen dead bodies before, but I hope I never see anything like this again. I’m afraid I’ll never get that image out of my head.”

  “You arresting her?”

  “She’s lucky it’s almost shift change and that would delay my going home.” Kevin laughed. “She’s not under arrest. I put her in the back of my car so she wouldn’t fall down or wander off.”

  Miss January was loaded into the ambulance, and it shot off to Tarpon Cove Hospital.

  “I’m going to find out what’s going on over there.” I pointed to Cruz talking with the other officer.

  “Some days, I wish I’d called in sick.” Kevin’s eyes glinted, and a muscle in his cheek tightened. He glared as Crum came out of his cottage.

  The man carried a large ice bag. He was overdressed, in a short skirt, a button-down shirt, and brown loafers that smacked the ground when he took a step.

  “Do you suppose Granny kneed the esteemed professor in the groin?” Kevin snickered.

  Mac appeared at my side. “This is going to get ugly,” she whispered. “Cruz walked in on his grandmother and Crum in some sort of sexual position. Considering their ages, it probably involved lying down. Now Cruz is insisting Granny didn’t put out willingly.”

  “Maricruz can settle this issue in short order.” Kevin’s tone was irritated.

  “That woman loves to stir trouble.” Mac grimaced.

  “I’ll be in the office.” I needed aspirin. I couldn’t wait to tell Creole. He wouldn’t believe me; it would take some convincing.

  “Now you decide to mind your own business,” Kevin drawled and stomped off.

  “I want him arrested,” Cruz yelled, pointing at Crum.

  “Mari,” Crum whined, “tell him we’re in love.”

  I winced and reached for the doorknob.

  “Madison, stop right there,” Cruz bellowed.

  Damn, I almost made it inside. I took a deep breath, turning to Cruz. “Would you like to take this into the office?”

  Cruz brushed past me; one hand on Maricruz’s arm, he steered her toward the couch, where they sat side by side. Accusation burned in his deep-brown eyes, as though the unfolding drama was my fault.

  I cut Mac off and scooted around the desk, thinking it was a good idea to put distance between me and the lawyer. “You want Crum arrested, why? What did he do?”

  Mac stuffed herself in a small space between the desk and front door. Fast escape.

  “He had non-consensual sex with my grandmother. That’s rape.” Cruz’s fury flared hotter.

  For a smart man, Crum didn’t have the sense to leave; instead, he stood in the doorway, looking more unkempt than usual. He cleared his throat to speak, but I cut him off.

  I zeroed in on Maricruz. “You can clear this up right now. Is what Cruz says true or not?”

  The woman knew her dramatic pauses, and used this one to inch away from Cruz, who put his arm around her and anchored her to his side. She unleashed a hissing tirade in Spanish on her grandson, which clearly caught him by surprise. He dropped his arm, and she used that moment to launch herself to her feet, push Crum aside, and flounce out the door.

  Cruz covered his groin with the ice bag in his hand.

  Mac announced, “Maricruz is a biter.”

  Cruz rose to his full height; posture impeccable, he looked down his nose. “This isn’t over.” He glared in Crum’s direction.

  “Yes, it is.” I jumped up. “Everything the two of them did was consensual. Don’t take my word for it; go door to door. I realize that Crum doesn’t present well, and he wouldn’t be your first choice for Maricruz to have a holiday fling with, but if it makes you feel any better, he’s a retired college professor.”

  He turned his full attention on me. “It does not. I expected better from you.” He controlled his anger, but every syllable was spoken with knife-edged precision.

  “We’re not the morality police.” I struggled not to flinch under his gaze. “Your grandmother came here acting like a college student on spring break. The good news is that no one ended up in cuffs. We did everything we could to steer her into tamer activities, but she wasn’t interested.”

  “Are you finished?” Not waiting for a response, he stalked out the door.

  Crum, who wasn’t so stupid after all, had already vacated the doorway, stepping out into the dirt next to a pair of palm trees. Now he shoved his head around the door frame. “Thank you for defending me.”

  “Just take care of yourself.”

  Crum nodded and limped off.

  I should have known, when I saw that Crum was attracted to Maricruz, that she’d be half-crazy.

  Mac patted my shoulder. “I’ll test the waters when I take Granny’s suitcase to his office tomorrow. Susie has a thing for iced brownie cookies; I’ll take her a dozen and see if I can trade them for information.”

  “Tell me now—are there any more surprises?”

  “They’re over for today.” Mac crossed her fingers in front of her chest. “But you have decisions to make.”

  Kevin, who had apparently been standing just outside the door listening to every word, poked his head inside. “I take it there’ll be no wedding invite in the mail.” When I didn’t answer, he went on: “Crum pled his case to my partner, so I got a detailed explanation for why the professor is limping.” He cringed and changed the subject. “Do you happen to know Score’s real name? I’m thinking it’s a nickname.”

  I struggled not to roll my eyes. “Never asked, partly because he was always drunk. I didn’t object to her dragging him in off the beach because he made her happy. In the beginning, I’d hoped Miss January would drink less under his influence. I was disabused of that notion quite quickly.”

  “If there’s no family… you going to pony up for a proper burial? He can’t come back here.” Kevin burst out laughing.

  “You’re not very funny.”

  “Ohh.” He faked a frown.

  “I’ll call the guys at Tropical Slumber and alert them to an impending delivery. Dickie will be disappointed that he can’t use his dressing skills.”

  Kevin made a pukin
g noise.

  “You promise that you aren’t going to arrest or harass Miss January?” I asked. “I’ll get her a lawyer.” Not Cruz, I grimaced.

  “That’s up to the county attorney. As long as the old dude died of natural causes, dragging her through court would be a public relations nightmare. People around here will sympathize with her story. She warmed my cold heart when she started crying, worrying when the sheet was lowered that he would get cold and asking what about dinner.”

  “Pop Tarts.” Mac made a face. “I need something more filling.”

  Kevin smiled at her. I wanted to kick him for encouraging her.

  “I’m going to go door to door and make a dead-person check, and then I’m out of here.” Kevin waved.

  Mac checked out his butt as he walked off.

  “We need to get our crime scene cleaner out here ASAP.” I took my keys out of my pocket. “Suggest that he also freshen up Kitty. One of these days, we’re going to inherit it, and I don’t want it smelling like a dead person. The only reason I’m not going to slip into Jake’s and get my drunk on is because I can’t be hungover tomorrow.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Cherie, I’m about out of patience with you. Staring at me will not make my phone ring faster.” Didier’s blue eyes bore into me.

  I’d already had to restrain myself from following him around the house, ultimately deciding that my best vantage point was the daybed in the living room. I propped my feet on the dark rattan headboard. Brad’s boat was due in today, according to the last text message received. In actuality, I’d spoken to the new captain and knew that Brad’s boat had pulled out this morning for the next scheduled trip.

  “I’m reading,” I said sulkily, tapping my laptop. If he thought I was going to let him out of my sight before I knew whether a new message had been received or not, he’d soon learn I had the patience to sit here all day.

  The French doors to the pool were open, and crisp, salty air blew in, making me hope he’d take his laptop and go outside to get some sun. The cats had split ranks today, Jazz lying by my side and Snow in front of the patio doors, catching some fresh air. Fab, who had just finished a swim, slunk through the doors, eyebrows raised, staring between the two of us.

  Saved by the doorbell. I jumped up, hoping it wasn’t bad news. I opened the door to find Gunz standing there in his signature shorts and tropical shirt, his bald head glowing with sweat. Appearing impatient at the less-than-a-minute wait, he pushed past me, glanced into the kitchen, then went into the living room.

  “Hey, sugar.” Gunz smiled when he noticed Fab draped across a chair. He ignored Didier, which elicited a glare. “Got news for you. Phone came back on; this Brad character is here in Tarpon.”

  I maneuvered around a chair to confront Gunz face to face. “That character is my brother. I’d like to hear any information you have firsthand. Where in the Cove?”

  “You’re not my client or my friend. I’m doing this for gorgeous here.” His tongue slithered out like a snake’s.

  Didier snapped his laptop closed, stood, and cleared the space between him and Fab in a couple of steps. He picked her up out of the chair and carried her back to the couch, where he sat down, his arm anchored around her shoulders. “Why don’t you tell us what you know?” Didier’s jaw tightened in irritation. “Start by answering Madison’s question.”

  “Gunz, please,” Fab tried to placate him, silently pleading with him not to make a scene. “How close were you able to get in pinpointing his location?”

  “The general area is the best I’ve got. It’s not like you get an exact address or an intersection or whatever you were expecting. It’s not bad news; the flake is back in town.”

  “You awful bastard – get out my house!” I shrieked out all my pent-up frustration. “My brother is not and has never been a flake.” Fab jumped up, taking his arm, saying something I couldn’t make out, which enraged me more. “Hustle your big ass before I get my gun and fill it with holes.”

  “You threaten me after I go out of my way to help you, and act like some old harpy,” he yelled back.

  Fab jerked on his arm, steering him to the front door, which he made difficult by dragging his feet.

  “Out.” I pointed.

  “You’ll be getting my bill. You don’t pay, and I’ll send a collector.”

  Fab got behind him and shoved him out the door. Once they were outside, it slammed shut.

  Didier moved in front of me, holding me tightly with my face buried in his chest. I pushed against him. “I can’t breathe.” He loosened his hold. “Nice chest.” I smiled faintly. “Don’t worry, my gun’s upstairs.”

  “You do know that I’m going to relate the details of this scene to Brad. He’ll be as impressed as I am that you stood up to that common thug.”

  “Gunz’s most redeeming quality is that he’s loyal to Fab. I’m sure she’ll smooth things over.”

  “My phone.” It had pinged. Didier grabbed it up off the table. He held it out so that we could read the message together. “I need some time away. A few things to work out. Back soon.”

  “No way Brad sent that message,” I said. “Someone has him, and they don’t want us to worry? Probably more like they don’t want the police alerted.” I shook my head. “We know he’s in town, or his phone is anyway. For a small town, it might as well be a big city, though, when you’re trying to find someone who doesn’t want to be found or who someone else doesn’t want found.”

  The door opened again, and Mother and Spoon came in, holding pizza boxes that got dumped on the kitchen island.

  “We got an update from Gunz,” Mother said. “Sounded like a bunch of nothing.”

  “Bastard didn’t look happy, which didn’t bother me,” Spoon said. “I didn’t want to leave Fab outside with him, but she assured me that she’ll be in a few minutes.” He checked his watch.

  Didier motioned Mother to his side and handed her his phone. “What does this mean?” she asked, handing it to Spoon.

  “It means we’re going to find him,” I said with a confidence that I didn’t whole-heartedly feel, but I refused to entertain negativity. “The street snitches will be more important than ever. He’s in town; someone will see him or, hopefully, something that will give us a clue as to where he is.”

  Fab strutted in, slamming the door. “Gunz got another message. Brad’s phone is off again, with no ping to pick up. He suspects someone is removing the battery. The cell company might get a hit, but that would require court paperwork. That went well, don’t you think?”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Before going to Jake’s, Fab and I had checked out every known haunt of Brad’s and the surrounding areas. Fab thought it a colossal waste of time but didn’t have a better idea. I hoped for a sighting of his truck. The local authorities had the license plate number on their radar, but that hadn’t turned up anything. The only thing to do was wait and see if one of the lowlifes or the cops came up with something.

  The jukebox blared a drinking song through the open doors at Jake’s. Instead of sneaking in the kitchen door, Fab and I came in through the front. Every stool at the bar had been claimed, and the tables on the deck were also full. I glared in the direction of the private table, which had a sign on it—“Don’t sit here.”—that was regularly ignored, and recognized three local sheriff’s deputies. I headed down the hall and retrieved two stools from the office, dragging them to the end of the bar and blocking the small station where drinks were picked up.

  “Everly Lynch doesn’t exist.” Phil slapped down a printout. “At least not until a year ago. Before that, no records.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Fab snapped.

  “Why? She wouldn’t be the first person we’ve met to reinvent herself.”

  I didn’t bother to ask why we should care about Brick and his receptionist. Fab had h
ad a confrontational phone call with the man about how high-handedly Everly had treated the two us and how, if we were to believe her, she was calling the shots. Brick had weaseled out of offering a straight answer, only saying that there were times when he would be busy and we’d need to take instruction from the fiery redhead.

  Fab had unleashed a litany of unflattering adjectives on him that made Didier, who was listening in, raise his eyebrows, but he never said a word, although the sides of his lips quirked. It was unclear who hung up on whom, although Fab claimed victory.

  “If one of you could get a copy of her personnel file, I could check that out,” Phil offered.

  “Brick’s probably not familiar with normal business practices since he usually promotes from the stripper pool at The Gentleman’s Club.” The strip club out in Alligator Alley was one of his many businesses. Being out in the middle of nowhere didn’t slow business one bit.

  “The first thing I noticed about Everly was that she wasn’t his usual type when it came to choosing a pole twirler. He likes these—” Fab put her hands out like a platter. “—unusually large, not caring that they couldn’t possibly be real. They say men can tell the difference, but I wouldn’t know.”

  “Don’t look at me,” I said. “Mine are real.”

  Phil shook her head with a smile. “This conversation would be better with a pitcher of margaritas and some chips.”

  Fab and I settled for water and the bowl of snack mix that sat in front of us.

  “What now?” I poked Fab.

  “We’re going to get her life story right from her horse’s lips.” Fab seemed sure of herself.

  “That’s unkind; they’re not that big.” The only way Fab could pull that off was with a gun, and I didn’t want to ask. This could end poorly. I had too much on my plate to be getting involved with this harebrained scheme. “Remind me: why do we care?”

  “Brick is my oldest client. I feel a certain responsibility for his safety, and hiring a ghost could turn out to be bad for his health.” Fab sounded so sincere, it was difficult not to laugh at her.