“That bastard comes back, you shoot him, and I mean dead. You know this is probably some weird coincidence and Didier will be calling any minute. We tease him, calling him ‘pretty boy,’ but I promise you, he can hold his own in a fight. He’s a survivor. Okay, I’m on it and will call you back.”
“You’re the best brother,” I said softly.
“Forget that,” Brad barked. “Hopefully by the time I call back, Didier will have walked in the front door.” He hung up.
Les Nado began a fight with the chair he was secured to: rocking and rolling, grunting noises and the F-word flying out of his mouth. He had his back to us, unaware he had company.
I glared at Fab and pointed in his direction. “Do something,” I mouthed.
She threw her arms in the air. “Fine,” she shouted. “Shut up over there!”
The second the word “bitch” came out of his mouth, I smirked, knowing Fab would take care of the problem. It was my friend’s least favorite word.
Fab jerked opened a kitchen drawer and grabbed a towel. Marching over to him, she shoved one end in his mouth.
“Do you hear that?” I smiled. “It’s quiet again.”
With Fab right behind me, I moved to the far side of the kitchen, out of the hearing of our bound intruder, and hit another number on my speed dial. “Are you on Spoonee’s boat?” I asked Mother as soon as she answered. The big man had forbidden her to call him any term of endearment in public after he took a lot of ribbing for that one.
Without a word, she put him on, and the next thing I heard was, “Yesss, stepdaughter?”
I loved his growly laugh. “I need some of those ‘I can do anything skills’ you brag about.” I explained about our intruder and that we were worried about Didier. “I promise you, we haven’t pissed anyone off lately—too many anyway,” I said as I struggled to keep my emotions at bay. “What am I going to do with Mr. Nado and his Lexus? I don’t want him dead; we need answers out of him. Do you think you could persuade him to talk? Most people’s knees shake at the mention of your name.”
“What was that about Didier?” Mother exclaimed. “What happened to him?”
“I’ll grab my toolbox; we’re on our way,” he said and hung up.
“Spoon’s bringing a toolbox,” I whispered to Fab.
Fab shuddered. “He wouldn’t…not in front of your mother.”
I laid my head on her shoulder. “Can we start the day over?” My phone rang again.
“That was a weird call,” Brad said.
“Did you talk to Didier?” I tried not to sound impatient.
“Told Balcazar that Didier and I had talked earlier about setting up a meeting and I wanted to follow through with him. He told me that not only hadn’t he talked to Didier today, but he hasn’t in the last couple of weeks. He said that, in light of recent events, the deal was cancelled. He also claimed that he was so devastated over Lauren, and other unspecified issues, that he needed downtime.”
“Why would Didier say he was meeting Balcazar if he wasn’t? Didier would never lie to Fab or mislead her for her own good, like she does him,” I said.
She slugged me in the shoulder.
“I’m in Lauderdale; just finished cleaning the boat. I’ll leave the rest to my guys and go scope out Balcazar’s office. If I spot Didier’s car, I’ll muscle my way in the door,” Brad offered. “What’s going on?” he said, more to himself than me.
I rubbed my forehead, refraining from banging it on the counter. Before he hung up, I told him about my conversation with Spoon, that he was on his way. I hoped Nado would be long gone so I wouldn’t have to explain how I failed to mention that small detail.
“You two keep calm; don’t go off half-cocked,” he said. “Call me if you need another location checked.”
“You call as soon as you get there. Be careful.” I hung up and paced the kitchen.
Spoon’s truck flew by, made a U-turn and parked across the street. Mother ran up the driveway, waving at me through the window. Spoon, several steps behind her, said something, and from the look on his face, he wasn’t happy.
Mother beat on the front door, and Fab unlocked the deadbolt. “Good, you’re still here. We can stop you from doing something stupid.”
Fab glared at both of them. From where I stood, I wasn’t sure which one annoyed her more.
Chapter 43
Apparently, Les Nado and Spoon were acquainted and required no introduction. Spoon uprighted the chair and dragged him out to the patio, tossing the towel gag on the floor. “Throw this away.”
Fab followed and peeked out the door. “They’re talking. So far, nothing violent.”
“Spoon has a way of getting people to open up,” Mother cooed.
Fab stood behind her, rolling her eyes, and I tried not to laugh. Spoon wasn’t known as a badass for nothing.
My phone rang, and I pounced on it, thankful for the break in tension in the room. “Well?”
“Hey sis, Balcazar’s offices are locked. The woman in the property management place said he and the wife took a couple of days off,” Brad related. “I checked the underground parking, but didn’t see Didier’s Mercedes or Balcazar’s Porsche.”
“I appreciate the drive-by. I guess there’s nothing to do but wait.” I had no intention of verbalizing my plans while Mother was keeping an eagle eye on me. I made about as much small talk as I could muster, even though I was about to scream. The events of the day had taken their toll on the always-cool-under-fire Fab, who looked ready to explode in frustration.
“You’re a little too calm. What are you up to?” Brad asked.
“Mother and Spoon got here a little while ago.” I ignored Mother’s inquiring look.
“Aww, she driving you nuts? I’m headed back to the Cove, so I’ll stop by the house. Call if anything changes. Don’t worry, Didier will turn up.” He hung up.
I flashed the phone a dirty look, sick of the “don’t worry” sentiments. “Balcazar’s offices were a dead end,” I told Mother and Fab.
Mother reached across the island and patted Fab’s hand. “Any minute, Didier will come walking through the door.”
Spoon, done with his poolside chat, came back inside. “Balcazar’s got Didier at his mansion. Nado and Balcazar confronted Didier in the underground parking lot at the office building, and it was Nado that threw him into the trunk of his own car. After he dropped Didier off at Balcazar’s, his new instructions were to pick up the two of you and take you back to Miami Beach, dead or alive didn’t seem to matter. Something about a business deal gone south. Les wasn’t interested in the whys, only the cash.”
Fab jumped up with a growl, hurling herself toward the patio, but Spoon grabbed her arm and swung her back around. “You’ll only end up in jail if you shoot him. If you’re worried he’s not telling the truth—he is.”
She jerked free and ran up the stairs.
“Now would be a good time to use your connections,” Spoon said. “Give Creole’s boss a call. He’ll help you.”
“I’ll try Creole again.” I turned away, saying a silent prayer that he’d answer. He would know what to do. I didn’t want to go straight to his boss. What if the cops surrounded Balcazar’s mansion, and Didier got killed? Once again, I got voicemail. I stalled, letting them think the phone was ringing.
Fab raced down the stairs. In record time, she’d changed into her work uniform, which she wore even when the humidity was off the charts: blue jeans, long-sleeve t-shirt, and tennis shoes. It was a telltale sign she wanted to be prepared for trouble.
“I’ll call you later,” she said in a frenzied tone.
“Hold on.” I grabbed her shirt in my fist. “You can’t go by yourself.”
“Good thing Spoon and I showed up when we did. You two aren’t going anywhere.” Mother moved in front of Fab, arms crossed. “Sit down.” She pointed to the stools. “We don’t need three dead people.”
“You’re not going to stop me.” Fab squared off with Mother.
“I’d hate to have to shoot you both,” Fab snarled.
“Ratchet down the noise,” Spoon boomed. “I got connections in Miami. They can get to Didier before either of you. Didier and Creole would both want you to stay here, and you know it.”
I reached for Fab’s hand under the counter and squeezed. This was a battle we wouldn’t win without causing a lot of bad feelings. I interrupted, saying, “I’ve got a headache,” and shoved my stool back. “I need some aspirin.” I grabbed my water and phone, clutching Fab’s sleeve and hauling her along with me. “I’ll talk some sense into her,” I said over my shoulder.
“Some sense?” Fab hissed.
I walked calmly upstairs, dragging my reluctant friend into my bedroom and banging the door closed. “Quiet.” I put my finger across her lips. “You can’t shoot Mother. The guilt would kill you.”
Fab bent at the waist, gulping in air. “I need to get out of here.”
“I should slap you silly for thinking about leaving without me,” I scolded, slipping my purse over my shoulder and patting my Glock. “Need a sweatshirt, in case there’s a skyscraper to scale.” I held one up. “No talking.” I opened the door, peeked out into the hallway, and motioned Fab to follow. We crept over to the balcony, letting out a collective sigh when we saw that they’d gone out to the pool, and slunk down the stairs. It was cowardly not to stand our ground and inform Mother and Spoon that we were leaving, but the likelihood of them wishing us a good trip was nil, and this way, no guns were drawn.
I passed off the car keys to Fab. Thank goodness Spoon hadn’t blocked in the Hummer, or Fab would be trying to get his truck hotwired fast.
From the passenger seat, I waved to Mother, who stood at the sink glaring, her lips moving as we backed out of the driveway. Spoon hadn’t flown out the door. He wasn’t stupid; he knew we’d break out sooner or later. I’d banked on neither of them following us upstairs since I pulled off appearing reasonable.
My phone rang. I looked at Fab, and she grimaced. Without looking, we both knew it was Mother. I pushed “ignore” and instead texted her, “We’ll keep in touch.”
Phil was my next call. “What’s up boss?” she asked.
“Do you have Balcazar’s home address? I don’t have the file with me.” Fab pulled into a gas station we’d never use except in an emergency and hopped out to fill the tank.
“He and the wife have a house on Hibiscus Island,” Phil said. “I’ll look in my notes. I know I have it written down. What are you two up to?”
I told her about the mysterious events of the day.
“Les Nado is a low-level criminal,” Phil informed me as Fab climbed back in. “Balcazar didn’t hire a professional. Must be short on cash. If Nado got arrested, he’d turn states evidence in a heartbeat to save his ass.”
Fab gripped the steering wheel tightly, turning onto the main highway and heading north to Miami Beach. “Hibiscus,” I whispered. We didn’t need GPS to get to MacArthur Causeway, the highway that linked several manmade islands with the mainland.
“You be damn careful. Do I need to remind you that some people associated with Balcazar have disappeared or never been seen again?” Phil cautioned. “I did some more checking, and another of his business associates and his family of four haven’t been seen in months.”
“One murdered or missing friend is one thing, but several?” I grimaced. “Has Balcazar ever been a suspect?”
“Sources tell me the police tried to invite him in to chat a few times, but he lawyered up and blocked any meet-and-greets. Gotta say, the man is well-connected. An order came down from the top to ‘look elsewhere.’”
“Harder?” I’d had several encounters, good and bad, with Creole’s boss, but I found what Phil said difficult to believe. I couldn’t imagine that Harder would cover for a murderer.
“Got the address; I’ll text it to you. What’s your plan? Knock on the door? Then what?”
“I can always use the missing cat/dog story. Are you trying to tell me you think this a wild goose chase?”
The mention of our oft-used missing pet story made Fab smile.
“Maybe, but what else do you have?” Phil asked. “You be careful—Balcazar’s slimy. If he thought you knew about his illegal business dealings, who knows what he’d do. Where’s that boyfriend of yours? You could use some official help.”
My phone beeped and I glanced at the screen. “He’s on the phone now. Thank you for your help.” I switched over to the incoming call.
“Why are you sitting on the turnpike?” Creole growled before I could utter a greeting.
Traffic had come to a grinding halt on the three lanes of asphalt. Fab tapped her foot incessantly, frustration pouring out of her. We were caught between exits, and with the cars stacked up, getting over was unlikely.
“A better question is where in the hell are you? You track my every move, and I can’t get ahold of you when we need you.” I was hot and tired from sitting on the road waiting for what was probably an accident to clear, consumed with thoughts of Didier and praying for a happy ending.
“We had a bust today, and they’re never in-and-out. They unfold slowly, hopefully with no surprises.”
“Just great!” I yelled. “You harp on my safety, yet when you walk out the door, I don’t know if you’re ever coming back.” I couldn’t imagine opening the door to an officer informing me Creole was dead. Most likely, Harder would do it because of our friendship, but that wouldn’t do anything for the pain.
“Calm down, babe, I’m fine,” he said softly. “Help was impressed at the efficiency with which you detailed your problem. That’s high praise. Update me.”
I gave him a rundown of what I knew, which wasn’t much. Told him about Brad’s stop off at Balcazar’s offices and what Spoon had learned from Les.
“So where are you headed? The restaurant?”
“We’re headed to the Balcazar mansion, have a look around. Nothing may come of it, but at least we’ll feel like we’re doing something,” I said.
“How did you get the address so fast?” he humphed. “How’s Fab holding up?”
“It’s all in who you know,” I sighed as we rolled by a fender bender pulled off to one side. We’d been doing one mile an hour, thanks to the drivers in front of us that had to slow and gawk. “She’s a tough one and has shed a layer of frustration now that we can get back to the speed limit.”
“Talked to your mother. Madeline is frantic, wanting me to convince you to go home. I can handle it from here. I’ll call as soon as I get to Balcazar’s.”
“Will you?” My words dripped with sarcasm. “That’s so accommodating. What are the chances Fab would agree to that, even if I did?”
His heavy sigh rolled through the phone.
“Then what?” I demanded. “Give the little girlfriend a call when you learn something?”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up and tossed the phone on the console.
“Thanks for understanding.” Fab gripped the wheel, her knuckles white, holding our speed at just above the limit, not wanting to attract attention.
I flashed her deranged smile at her.
She cocked her head. “Is that my smile? I like it!”
Chapter 44
Hibiscus Island was manmade, and had been dredged up and completed almost a hundred years ago. History had it that these small islands were developed for gangsters and celebrities, who built large mansions with views of the Intracoastal Waterway to have a place to party with their friends. Now some of the priciest real estate in Miami Beach, it held the distinction of being one of the first places to be evacuated in advance of a hurricane.
A Mercedes SUV had pulled up to the security gate ahead of us. The gates opened on its approach, and we followed right behind. If we’d been in a beat-up sedan, I imagine the driver wou
ld have called security, but so far, it seemed he hadn’t.
“We looking for a cat?” I asked. “Balcazar has never met me and hopefully I look better than my driver’s license photo. I can keep them distracted at the front while you sneak around the back.”
“I thought we’d try a more subtle approach—I’ll kick the door in.”
“You mean after you shoot the locks off and set off the security alarm?” I gave her a lopsided smile.
“Answer your phone,” Fab said as it began ringing.
Picking it up, I noticed several missed calls from Brad. Mother had most likely roped him in to shovel more guilt on, and I knew he’d be worried.
“You two okay?” Phil asked. “I’ve got an update.”
I hit the speaker button. “We’re on Hibiscus now. The rich really know how to live. If something happens to either of us or we disappear, you make sure Balcazar doesn’t get away with it.”
The first house was a modern monstrosity, all chrome and glass, set back on two lots. Each successive house was bigger than the last.
“My money’s on you two. Dirtball has to be desperate; the state attorney general is finally looking into his business practices. His office could no longer ignore the complaints—too many of them, no matter who Balcazar knows. Any support he had in the past has gone silent. No one’s willing to speak up or offer help and end up implicated in something that would put their neck on the chopping block,” Phil said.
“Do you think Lauren was offed by one of his associates as a warning or by someone wanting payback?” Fab asked.
“According to Didier, he didn’t leave his jacket in her condo, so how did it get there?” Phil asked. “Did he happen to mention where he last saw the jacket? If we’re believing Didier’s version, which I assume we are, then someone deliberately framed him. Anyone with a grudge that you know about?”
Swindled in Paradise Page 24