“He what?” Brad yelped. “You’re holding out on me. Again. I better not be the last to find out.”
“Super-pinkie, cross your heart, you’ll tell no one.” I held out my little finger.
“This must be good if you’re resorting to our childhood ‘under threat of death’ promise.” He looped pinkies, went through the ritual, and pulled me into a fierce hug.
“We’re really engaged. But… Creole doesn’t want to go through any wedding hoopla. He wants to elope.”
Brad stared, open-mouthed, then threw his head back and laughed. “Enjoy the honeymoon because Mother will kill you both when you get back.”
“Tell that to Creole. Don’t forget your promise to keep the secret.”
“Who else knows?”
“No one, not even Fab. And she’ll kill me, or want to anyway, when she finds out. Secrets between friends—we’ve been doing that a lot lately.” I told him about Caspian Dumont.
Brad whistled. “He’s a billionaire? I know that island, and the asking price was twenty-six million, give or take a million.”
“I haven’t had the opportunity to grill her about her papa, his preferred title. I’d like to run a background check on him, but I suspect that’s over-the-line nosey to do to my best friend.”
“I’m not Caspian. I wouldn’t have been able to stay away from my daughter and not be a part of her life.” Brad closed his eyes, leaning back. “Wouldn’t that be something, if I turned out to be Mila’s dad? Could this case get any more complicated?”
“You’ve got the best on your team. Ruthie Grace’s record is impressive, equal to Cruz, with a high percentage of wins.”
“You know what she told me? ‘If I can keep a man who surely deserved it from getting the death penalty, I can keep you out of prison for a murder I’m certain you didn’t commit.’”
“I love that she believes in your innocence. We all do.” I hugged him.
Chapter Twelve
Fab blew in the door, gun in hand. Catching sight of me sitting at the kitchen island, she peeked into the living room. Reappearing, she demanded, “It’s just you?” I nodded, and she re-holstered her gun.
I gave her the once-over, head to toe. “Lose the pricey outfit. I suggest jeans and tennis shoes. And of course, don’t forget your Walther.”
As if, her glare conveyed. She stomped into the kitchen… as much as she could in stilettos. “What’s the emergency?” She peered over my shoulder, checking out the patio. “You’re not funny, summoning me home, and for what? You still haven’t said.”
“Are you finished ranting?”
Fab ignored me and reached into the refrigerator, pulling out a pitcher of fruit water. Pulling a glass from the cupboard, she filled it halfway, picking fruit out with her fingers.
“Cooties.” I crossed my fingers in an X in front of my face. “The plan is to pay a visit to Cardio Gates, Patty’s friend, introduce ourselves, and get the lowdown. Sadly, it’s in a seedy part of town, so I’m not going by myself. I thought of you first.”
“I’m busy,” she said snootily.
“Don’t think I won’t stoop to blackmail. So be a good girlfriend and go upstairs and change—nothing too nice—and get back down here pronto.”
* * *
Fab jumped into the entry, tapping her watch. “Five minutes. That might be a record.”
I jiggled the keys in front of her face. Ready for her to grab them out of my fingers, I jerked them out of her reach and ran out the door. Her hand shot out, grabbing the back of my shirt, slowing my momentum. Plucking the address from my fingers, she jumped behind the wheel and entered it into the GPS.
She groaned when the map popped up, and instead of heading up the main highway to the interstate, she detoured in the direction of her office. She parked the SUV next to the white beater pickup, and we traded rides. It had been a good purchase and had come in handy a few times when we needed an unidentifiable ride.
“Does Creole know we’re headed to this shady area, and that’s putting it nicely?” The truck started right up—looks were deceiving; it might have looked like it was on its last tire, but it ran smoothly.
“According to GC, it’s a generally safe area as long as we’re careful. You know, not doing anything stupid that makes us a target, like carrying a map around. In general, act like we know what we’re doing. Basic common sense, he wrote in big letters.”
“What I got out of all that was blah, blah, blah and that our assigned phone number still works.”
“He knows darn well that I’d just show up at his home and blackmail him, same as you.”
“His home,” Fab screeched and beat on the steering wheel. “How long have you been sitting on that information?”
“You have no respect for my ears.” I rubbed them.
“How. Long.”
“He’s hot without the crappy clothes and face-covering sunglasses,” I said, enjoying being intentionally evasive.
“You’re giving me a headache.” She hit the gas and cut off a Porsche merging onto the Interstate. The driver didn’t take it well, being bested by a beater truck, and cut around us. “Start at the beginning.”
I related the details of meeting Brad’s neighbor in dramatic detail, highlighting the fact that, as hard as GC tried to disguise his voice, I recognized the distinctive growl. “You’re not to tell anyone, and that includes Didier, that GC is Alexander Mark. He wants us to continue using GC. I suspect because he likes it. If the guys ever push the issue of meeting GC, we’ll deal with it then. You can blame me.”
Fab turned off the freeway and onto a residential street that consisted of two-story apartment buildings surrounded by rod-iron gates. Two women were out walking their dog. The corner store had a few men gathered around out front.
“You’re going to be in so much trouble with Creole.” Fab looked over at me. “Are you smiling?”
“A little trouble sounds fun. Keeps the relationship from being a total bore.”
“It appears that I haven’t rubbed off on you in a good way.”
I ignored her gloating and pointed to a faded turquoise building. “It’s that one. Here’s the plan. Circle around to the far corner of the parking lot and park next to the stairs. Do we knock or pick the lock and barge in?”
“Do we know if he’s even home?”
“According to the report, he’s a recluse. No mention of employment.”
“If we’re not careful, the lockpick thing could get us a bullet. I can’t believe I’m going to be the one to say this, but I vote for knocking. And no cop-knock. That will alert the neighbors or set off… What’s his name?” Fab asked.
“‘Hey you’ will probably work. If not, then Cardio.”
“When Cardio hollers from the other side of the door or peers out his peephole, we use his name, because it sounds friendly, and say we’re friends of Patty, no matter how distasteful that is.” Fab scrunched up her nose. “You’ve invaded my mind, and I hope you don’t stay long.”
“So now you’re the cautious, law-abiding one…” I smiled at the dirty look she shot me. “I was going to say ‘for a change’ but probably for the first and last time.”
The run-down building showed signs of age and neglect, but the outside was well-tended. There were a few clumps of dead grass, mostly weeds that appeared to have gotten a close shave.
Fab pulled around the perimeter of the property and lucked out, finding one empty space in front of the stairs.
Looking around, I saw all was quiet, the only movement one lone woman sitting outside on her porch.
Opening the car door, Fab jerked on my arm. “Once Hey You opens the door, you take the lead. I’ll have my Walther ready for trouble. Chances are good that he’s not operating with a full deck.” She laughed, then laughed again. “I’m so funny.”
“Ha, ha, ha.” I shut the door on what I assumed would be a quick-witted response. “Left side, second door from the end. 212, if they’re numbered.” I tested the banister
with a jerk, and despite the rot that showed in places, it didn’t give way.
We got to the second level and saw the fire door had been propped open. I peeked down the darkened hall, where one light overhead cast a dim shadow. “No one hanging around looking for trouble.”
When we reached the door to 212, Fab stood off to the side so Cardio wouldn’t see her at first.
I knocked respectfully and waited impatiently, as I was ready to have this conversation over with and get back into the sunlight. Cardio apparently decided not to answer, but he wasn’t as clever as he thought, as I’d detected movement from inside and a shadow darkening the peephole. I waved, letting him know I knew he was behind the door.
“Who’s there?” a male voice called.
“Cardio Gates? I’m a friend of Patty Thorson.”
A short, portly man opened the door, dark hair hanging in his face, a gun by his side. “Patty didn’t have any friends.”
“Put the gun away. A shootout would bring your neighbors charging into the hall, and the body count could be high. Besides, I’m not here for any trouble.”
Fab stepped forward, pointing her gun at him. “You think about raising that gun of yours, and I’ll shoot first and take my chances with the cops.”
“Set it down on the floor and kick it away,” I ordered.
With a brief glance down the hallway, Cardio stepped back and did as asked before crossing the sparsely furnished room, closing his laptop, and sitting in a rolling desk chair.
I shuddered, following him into the studio apartment. Strip kitchen along the far wall, and two doors—one I assumed led to the bathroom, the other open, a pile of clothes lying on the floor. The grey concrete walls and flooring made the space that much drearier, with only one small window that allowed in minimal light.
Fab flipped her private investigator badge out. At a quick glance, it would pass for a cop’s badge. “Are you aware Miss Thorson is dead?”
“Murdered, I heard.” He tilted his head, his gray eyes blank.
“You know anyone who would want her dead?” I asked.
“The Brad guy, the one they charged with the crime.” Cardio laughed at us, conveying that we were dimwits. “Jealous sucker. Brad and Patty had a relationship, and when it ended, he left her with her emotions so scrambled, it drove her over the edge and she ended up in the hospital. Not a one of my girlfriends ever ended up in a mental institution.”
Fab moved subtly, checking out the room, which was furnished only with a double bed, a desk, and a chair. Cardio wasn’t a man for trinkets or even pictures. A pen and legal pad were the only items lying on the desk, aside from the laptop.
Brad and Patty had met a few months after he moved to South Florida, and that was a couple of years before I moved to the Sunshine State. “Were you in a relationship with Patty before she met Brad?”
Cardio rolled back in his chair, hands behind his head. “Patty and I were involved, but that was a long time ago. Got along good until she met Brad… some chance meeting. The dirty bastard convinced her they were soulmates, which is code for good sex, if any guy tries to sell you that line.”
“Good advice,” I said.
“Came home one day and she was gone. Left a note—adios!” He snapped his fingers. “Didn’t hear a word until she ended up in the hospital again. She was never the same after the docs jolted her brain a few times—Zzzz!”
I flinched.
“Poor Patty. She’s out, she’s in, and out again.” His eyes sparked more with annoyance than sympathy. “In between, she’d disappear without a hint as to where she’d gone, and then she’d turn up again. The longest she stayed out of touch was a year, and then another letter would arrive, the return address a hospital.”
“That must have been hard on you.” I did my best to sound understanding.
“If only she could’ve stayed away from that Brad character. I don’t get the guy—it seemed like it was his mission in life to make sure she never recovered. After her last release, they hooked up again. This time the guy proposes; they even plan a big shindig wedding. Days away from the I do’s, he turns on her with no warning, has her arrested on trumped-up kidnapping charges.” Cardio clasped his chest.
Dramatic fellow. It was hard to figure out from his insincere act exactly how he felt about Patty.
“Broke my heart,” he said with a sniff. “Didn’t go back, and there were no more letters. Read in the news that she plea-bargained her way out of a prison sentence in favor of the hospital. Better the devil you know, I suppose.”
Fab edged her way along the side of the room. Nervy girl wanted a peek at his laptop.
“Stay away from my computer unless you have a warrant,” Cardio barked.
Fab shot him a weak smile.
“You know anyone else that might want Patty dead?” I asked.
Cardio stared down at the floor. “Patty was shy, a loner, but when she came out of her shell, people liked her—a real people person. The only person I ever heard about that had it in for her was that Brad guy.”
Fab noticed two shelves built into the side of the desk that I’d missed. She bent down, saying, “I love to read,” and casually taking inventory.
When Fab stood, I said, “I realize we got off to a rocky start, but I want to thank you for your help on this case.”
“Money would make it less traumatizing for me.”
Cardio’s request caught me off guard, but not Fab. She pulled some bills from her back pocket, along with a business card. I hoped it was the one with only the phone number on it.
Fab conducted business, giving a short speech about how to score more cash in exchange for information. I fidgeted, giving the place one last scan when what I wanted to do was grab her hand and race out of the building. I slid quietly to the door, cracking it open and turning my head to peer into the hallway. The last thing I wanted to do was turn my back on Cardio, so I backed out, Fab a step behind. Once we crossed the threshold, he shut the door in our faces. Neither of us felt like tempting fate and jumping down the stairs; instead we walked down. At the bottom, Fab looked up and waved. Cardio had come back out and now stood on the landing, his eyes burning a hole through us.
Fab started the engine and backed out, slowly heading to the exit. I kept my eyes glued to the rearview mirror that ran the length of the windshield, which I’d originally thought was ugly and excessive but now had no intentions of taking down. It proved to be useful, offering a wide view of everything behind and on each side of the truck. Once again, not a single person milling around.
“Did you find anything of note as you casually perused those shelves?” I asked. “I can’t imagine he had a book in a genre you’d enjoy.”
“Not a single book, but there was a picture that appeared to have been stashed last minute of him and Patty both staring like zombies at the camera. A handful of beta videos mired in the inch-thick dust—he didn’t have a machine and they don’t make them anymore, so I assume they have sentimental value.” Fab wrinkled her nose. “Got the feeling that he was into Patty far more than any emotion he showed and that her obsession with Brad grated on him.”
“I’d like to add him to my list of suspects, of which there are none, but if he did kill her, why not just shoot her?”
“Maybe because he didn’t know how to handle that gun,” Fab said in disgust.
“The only thing I got from Cardio was that the man is wound tight.”
Chapter Thirteen
My phone pinged as we flew down Highway 1 not far from the cut-off to the Keys. I read the message out loud. “Miss January missing.”
“How is that possible?” Fab snapped. “She’s drunk most of the time, and she doesn’t drive or walk around… much anyway.”
“You’re going to have to swing by The Cottages. If you’re going to whine about it, I’ll get Crum to drive you home.” I turned away to keep from laughing, but when she didn’t snap at me, I was afraid to turn and face her. Instead, I picked up my phone and call
ed Mac.
“I quit,” Mac said when she answered.
“We’ve had this conversation a dozen times already. Let me make this clear, you are not quitting unless I say you can, and I’m telling you now that you’re going to have a long wait.”
Mac blew a sigh through the phone so loud that Fab heard, judging by her upturned lips. “I don’t know where Miss January went,” she said. “Wandered off. She’s been upset about Nestor’s arrest and burst into tears when I had to tell her he wouldn’t be back. At least, not for some years, judging by the charges they leveled against him.”
“Fab and I are headed in that direction. Try to hold everything together.”
Mac snorted. “Yeah, bye.” She disconnected.
“Last time Miss January wandered off, we found her at a bus stop, so keep your eyes peeled,” Fab reminded me.
* * *
Fab veered off the highway and took the route along the water as she rapidly approached The Cottages.
“There’s Crum.” Fab pointed to the sidewalk. “The one on the pink Barbie bicycle.” She slowed at the next corner, turning into the gas station.
“There’s Miss January and…” I pointed to a couple wrapped around one another. I’d recognize that flowery house dress anywhere, but… as Fab cruised past, I twisted in my seat. “Haven’t seen him before.” I craned to get a look at the older man. He had grey hair and dressed like a lot of locals, in shorts and a short-sleeve shirt.
“Since Miss January’s got her hand fisted in the man’s shirt and is attempting to drag him along with her, I’d say she knows him. Well… his name anyway.”
Crum peddled in circles beside the station, not paying attention, and came close to a collision with the dumpster. He yelled and waved to get the attention of Miss January and her friend. When that had no effect, he rode alongside them, and whatever he said made them both jump. The man grabbed Miss January’s elbow and kept her from ending up in a heap.
A menace on two wheels, Crum whirled around the twosome. A car flew into the driveway, having to jam on its brakes, and blasted its horn. Crum waved his middle finger.
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