Swindled in Paradise

by Deborah Brown

  I was in the changing room, going through Octavia’s bag without finding anything useful, when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. My heart pounding, I looked furtively in the mirror. My breath whooshed out of me when I saw that it was Fab who stood in the doorway, waving me over.

  “I hate this job,” she grumbled. “My feet hurt.”

  “Stop your whining. Good thing I threw your ugliest pair of shoes in the back of the SUV. Go change,” I ordered.

  “They have a smooshy heel, and they make me look dumpy.”

  If she hadn’t had such a woeful look on her face, I’d have laughed at her. “You can rock those shoes, and your feet will thank you. The girls will be envious.” Okay, they wouldn’t, but it sounded good. I gave her a shove into the hall.

  Tilly burst into the room thirty minutes later, ready to explode. “Anyone seen Fab? The new girl.” She glared at me.

  I shrugged and shook my head. The clock said we’d been here for three hours.

  A thorough search of the club was ordered, but Fab couldn’t be found anywhere. The dancers paraded in and out between changes, but tongues wagged and gossip ran rampant. “F-ing the owner was how she got the job,” I heard whispered. I hoped that Fab was just pulling one of her stunts and wasn’t in real trouble.

  An hour later, Fab returned with a swagger and an unrepentant look on her face, picking up a tray as though she hadn’t gone missing. I timed my break just right and had a ringside view from the bar area. One of the bouncers ordered her to the manager’s office, but she’d only made it to within a few steps of where I stood when Tilly intercepted her. The short, blistering lecture the manager served up about her unprofessional conduct burned even my ears. Tilly signaled for a bouncer, and two showed up to escort Fab to the door, one on either side of her. “You’re fired and don’t come back,” was Tilly’s parting shot.

  Tilly waylaid me before I could take a step, and said, with derision in her voice, “You can get your things and leave. If your friend left anything, get it now.” Her hands twisted into fists as she barely controlled her fury. “This is what happens when men let their dicks do the hiring.”

  * * *

  “Why? Why? Why?” My voice got louder with each word.

  Fab slunk down in the driver’s seat, head hunched over the wheel, and remained silent.

  “One night!” I exploded.

  “Oh, calm down. It’s not like we need this job to climb the ladder of success,” she snipped.

  “Don’t you mean pole?” I snapped. “I’ve never been told to leave on my first day on the job. At least I wasn’t sacked like you.”

  “You’re mean.”

  “Aww.” I wiped the non-existent tear from my eye.

  “Once you hear what happened, you’ll feel guilty about your bad attitude towards your best friend.”

  I kicked off my shoes and tossed them in the back, ignoring her completely.

  Fab let out a melodramatic sigh, “I came out to change my shoes and couldn’t force myself to go back in. Then I got sidetracked, using a handi-wipe to get the beer stink off me.” She shuddered. “I hadn’t been there an hour, one I’ll never get back, when another girl bumped into me. Beer mugs tumbled off her tray, and the liquid spilled down my legs. Can you believe she blamed me?”

  I looked at her, letting her know she’d lost her mind.

  Fab put her hand down her top, removing cash. “This goes in the change holder. I’m saving it to get drunk as soon as feasible, so I can forget this night. More than once, an anonymous hand stuffed money in my cleavage while I was supposed to be cleaning tables.”

  I smiled at the visual of Fab bussing a table, then lowered my seatback, reclining it as far as it would go. “I want to go home,” I said, and closed my eyes.

  “Can I go fast?”

  Chapter 38

  The next morning, I woke up before anyone else and took my cup of coffee out to the pool, flinging my feet over the side and into the water. I had texted Creole the second we arrived home, and instead of calling back, he showed up, informing me before the first kiss that he couldn’t stay long.

  “We were tossed off the property,” I murmured.

  He gave a deep, throaty laugh. “I’ve got the cure for a crummy day,” he said and kissed me. He disappeared through the opening in the fence.

  Lost in thought, I brushed my chin, reveling in the whisker burn, hoping it wouldn’t go away anytime soon.

  Fab plopped down next to me. “How are we going to finish up this job?”

  “We’re not. And you can be the one to tell Brick. I’m sure he’s heard about last night, and I’m sure he’s not happy.”

  My phone rang, giving her a reprieve from answering. Seeing Brick’s name, I groaned. Fab had no intention of dealing with this mess—she’d obviously turned her phone off. Might as well get it over with.

  “What the hell happened last night?” he screamed, loud enough that I didn’t need to hit the speaker button.

  He cut off my attempt at a hastily edited version of events. “Can you finish this job on your own? If I override Tilly and send Fab back, she might quit.”

  “I’m in a relationship and very happy. If I go back there alone, my boyfriend might take his anger out on you and follow through on his threat to make you disappear.” I tossed out a hastily conceived plan about staking out the parking lot, ignoring Fab’s gesturing at me to put the call on speaker.

  “This is all your fault,” I informed him. “You’ve known Fab long enough to know this idea was frankly, a bad idea.”

  “Let’s go with Plan B. If you don’t get anything new tonight, I’ll think about a Plan C,” he grunted. “The girls really liked you.”

  “Then you won’t mind if I keep my uniform?”

  “The boyfriend likes it, does he? Can’t say I’m not a romantic.”

  His dirty laugh made me scrunch up my nose as I ended the call.

  * * *

  Fab spit out frustrated noises, swerving onto Tamiami Trail in the direction of the club. “I hate this job.”

  “Oh, stop your whining. If you hate it so much, call your friend Brick and tell him we quit. You should thank me for convincing the man to let us confront Octavia and Delight outside the club. Otherwise, you’d have no choice but to bail on the case.”

  “What have we got so far?” Fab asked testily.

  “You know we don’t have zip,” I frowned at her. “I thought the idea that someone would show up inside the club to harass the girls was stupid with a bodyguard at every door.”

  “Which means the harassment must be happening at home.”

  “And we don’t know where that is,” I said. The addresses Brick had on file were a dead end; Octavia used a mail drop and Delight an empty lot.

  She heaved a sigh. “What do you think about installing a pole in the living room?”

  “Absolutely not. Mother would fall and hurt herself.”

  Fab started laughing. “You’ve got the coolest mother. Unless she’s lecturing you over your bad behavior, that is. Did you know she talked to me about having a nicer attitude towards Didier? We’d gotten into a fight, and your mother didn’t bother to hide the fact that she was listening in. She not only interjected her two cents into the argument but took his side. I stuck my tongue out at her.”

  The corners of my mouth turned up. “What did she do?”

  “She pointed towards the stairs and said, ‘You go to your room.’ And I went.”

  “You know you’re an adult now and don’t have to go, don’t you?”

  “I couldn’t get away fast enough. I should have told her she hurt my feelings by taking his side, even if I was in the wrong. I did later and even apologized.”

  “Oh….” I made a sad face.

  “She hugged me and said she wouldn’t do it again—to either of us. I assured her that Didier wasn’t going anywhere, and we’d already made up. Then she got this dreamy look in her eye and said, ‘That’s fun, isn’t it?’”
r />   “That’s a story we don’t need to share with Brad.”

  Fab pulled into the parking lot and headed for the middle row. It was early, and there were only about a dozen non-employee automobiles. She parked between two of them in a space that afforded a direct view of the entrance.

  “Look!” Fab pointed to Tilly’s assistant, who came out a side exit, shoving something in the jamb to keep the door open. She had a liquor box in her hands, and from the way she carried it, it appeared to be heavy. She juggled it while unlocking the trunk, then stored it inside.

  “I’ve forgotten her name,” I said, not taking my eyes off her.

  “Don’t ask me.”

  The woman looked in both directions before going back in the same door.

  “We can’t be one-hundred percent certain she’s stealing, and we’re not here to investigate employee theft anyway,” I said.

  The door opened again. The woman came back out with a smaller box and two Styrofoam takeout containers, which she put in the trunk as well before going back inside.

  “Before we leave, I’ll pop the trunk and check. If she is stealing, I’ll inform her that I’m telling Brick he has a problem and should investigate. She can quit or take her chances.”

  I didn't bother to respond to that. I frankly didn't care if Brick's employees were stealing him blind. We were just there to find out what was happening with the girls. Delight's shift would end soon and Octavia's would start. According to Brick, they were both dropped off by their boyfriends, and we were there to get the license numbers so we could have Phil run a check on them. At least then, we'd know where the girls spend their free time.

  Fab tapped my arm, motioning to the windshield. We were getting close to shift change, and dancers would be coming and going. A navy blue BMW sedan pulled up to the dancer’s entrance and sat idling.

  Octavia stepped out of the car and started towards the door. The driver honked, and she held up her middle finger in response. The driver-side door flew open, and a scrawny, six-foot man in a wife beater that displayed his tattoos got out and waved his arms wildly.

  Fab stuck her head out the window. “I can’t hear a damn thing, just a bunch of garbled, loud words.”

  Octavia shouted back, shot him the double bird, and disappeared inside. The man beat his fist on the roof of the Beemer and slid back behind the wheel. He squealed the tires as he started up, but instead of heading for the exit, he zig-zagged to the far side of the lot, making his own parking space.

  An older model tan Impala pulled in next. It was in immaculate condition, with dark-tinted windows and lowered suspension. The driver circled the lot and parked alongside the BMW, their driver’s doors facing one another.

  “I can’t see what’s going on from here.” Fab opened her door.

  I grabbed her arm before she could get out. “We don’t care,” I snapped. “Delight’s leaving.” I cocked my head towards the dancer’s entrance.

  Delight surveyed the parking lot, eyeing the two cars parked side by side, then turned and went back inside.

  “That’s interesting,” Fab murmured.

  The Impala pulled away and began to circle back around toward the entrance. Suddenly, automatic gunfire tore through both cars.

  I bent over, arms over my head, not sure what to do. Fab slid down and over across the passenger seat.

  The gunfire seemed endless, but at last it was quiet. Fab and I rose up just enough to peek over the dashboard. The Impala had veered off and embedded its front end in the back fence. The BMW hadn’t moved. No one got out of either car.

  “I’d say Octavia no longer has a problem with her boyfriend. We need to get out of here.” The words had barely escaped my lips when a number of unmarked police cars blew into the driveway.

  “Get your boyfriend on the phone,” Fab ordered. “They’re going to find us. We’ll say we stayed crouched down because we were scared.”

  “At least your story is the truth.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and pressed speed dial. “Wait until Creole finds out that calling him was your idea.”

  Cars doors flew open and plainclothes cops wearing bulletproof vests spilled out. Several officers checked each car. The blood-splattered windows told their own story. One cop signaled to the others, and a couple of them reholstered their weapons.

  “They look like friends of Creole’s. He’ll know how we can get out of here.” Fab pulled out her phone. “Calling Brick,” she said, answering my unspoken question.

  “No answer,” I grumped and sent a text. Then I called the number Creole had added in case of emergency.

  “Yeah,” a male voice answered.

  “Creole said to call if we needed help, and this situation qualifies.” I hit the highlights of what had just unfolded in front of us.

  Help listened in silence until I was done, then said, “Which car is yours?” It was then I recognized his voice – I was talking to Creole’s undercover partner.”

  Confused, I said and looked around, “The Hummer.”

  “Stay inside and don’t go anywhere. Someone will be over to talk to you.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, but he’d already hung up.

  Chapter 39

  I threw myself down on the daybed. “I don’t want to work for Brick ever again,” I complained as I squinted over at Fab to make sure she was listening.

  Creole burst through the French doors. “I’m here.” He gave a bow.

  Didier and I laughed.

  Creole rushed to my side and put his hand on my forehead. “You okay?” He sat down, lifting my head into his lap.

  “She’s not sick, you weirdo,” Fab sniffed at him.

  “Thanks for sending Help. It was nice to see a friendly face. Well, a familiar face anyway,” I grimaced.

  Creole’s undercover partner, Help, had banged on the driver’s side window. “Tell me exactly what you saw,” he ordered after he climbed in the back seat.

  “Don’t look at me.” Fab closed her eyes. “She’s the master at storytelling.”

  “Just facts,” Help spit out.

  “I’ve never seen you so chatty.” I smiled at him. Two, three words of out him were the usual. But a whole sentence? Never. Unless “mind your own business” counted.

  I recounted the details in living color from the time the BMW pulled into the parking lot until the gunfire broke out, careful to only include what we actually saw from our vantage point.

  After he left, a local police officer took our statement. We sat for several hours before being given the go ahead to leave.

  Creole had called around that time. “It’s only a matter of waiting. They have video tape, which is better than an eyewitness account.” He hung up after promising to see me later at my house.

  Brick had burned up Fab’s phone with one question after another. He seemed more annoyed about the club being closed for a few days than the two dead bodies that had yet to be carted away.

  “What are you thinking?” Creole asked.

  “Octavia showed up for work; Fab and I saw her get out of the car and go inside. Her boyfriend gets murdered, and now Brick says she was a no-show and didn’t call in.”

  “And the other dead guy was Delight’s boyfriend,” Fab said. “Neither of them are having boyfriend problems any longer, which closes our case.” She brushed her hands together.

  “When do we get our quad-pay?” I asked.

  “We didn’t actually do anything….”

  I rolled on my side in a fit. “I worked. I wasn’t the one who got fired the first day. I stood in those stinkin’ heels until my toes almost fell off.”

  “Chérie….” The frown on Didier’s face let everyone know that this was the first time he had heard this story, which was no surprise to me.

  “You misunderstood.” Fab flashed the “cover for me” look.

  “You’re right, I guess I did,” I said, heavy on the sarcasm. Creole pinched me lightly. I’d already served up the details to him, and he’d had me laughing
over the situation. “‘Your fired and don’t come back’ wasn’t very clear.” I looked at her.

  “I hated that job,” Fab sulked. “I came home smelling like the bottom of an ashtray.”

  “Me too,” I commiserated. “But at least you got tips. Judging by the cash you put in the drink fund, if you’d turned on your sparkly personality, you would’ve had enough stuffed in your cleavage to take the four of us out to a nice dinner.”

  Creole’s phone rang; he glanced at the screen and answered. “Yeah, okay, good, thanks.” He hung up. “Octavia got picked up on the northbound turnpike south of Orlando. She’ll be charged as an accessory.”

  “By the way, why were the cops there so quickly in the first place?” I asked. It had been bothering me ever since they squealed in before the echoes of the gunfire had even faded.

  “The police got wind that the heads of two drug gangs were getting together to hammer out whose was bigger. Turns out neither one. Law enforcement didn’t expect it to take place in the parking lot of a stripper joint. I’m surprised that backup from the rival gangs didn’t hop out of the bushes when the first bullet flew. It was over for the both of them in the first few shots, but still….”

  “What happens to the gangs now?” Didier asked.

  “They’ll both name new leaders and go to war. Depending on who they choose to lead, they might work out a truce, but I doubt it,” Creole said.

  “Did you mention to Brick that he might have a thieving employee?” I eyed Fab.

  “She’s fired. He’s calling her into his office to share some security footage with her. Apparently, she’s been doing it for a while and got confident, then sloppy. He says he has her on camera on at least three separate occasions,” Fab related.

  “I haven’t met this man. Would I like him?” Didier asked.

  Didier had directed his question towards me, which surprised me. Creole was already shaking his head. “No!”

  “Probably not,” I said. “But you’d certainly never say anything mean about him.”