Fab moved her hand behind her back to where she kept her Walther. “You know, Bits-ass, there are other big-boobed, fake-blonde strippers that can do your job. Who’d ask questions if you didn’t show up to work one day?”
I wanted to laugh but didn’t, knowing Bitsy was stupid enough to try and outdraw Fab with the little pea-shooter gun she kept in her desk drawer. I tugged on Fab’s arm.
“A dollar says I beat you up to the second floor.”
Fab hesitated a second before she shot over to the stairs, leaving me standing there. I passed on demanding a “thank you” from Bitsy for distracting Fab from pulling her gun out.
“Hurry up!” Fab yelled from the top.
“You’re such a show off.” I ran up the stairs and hung on to the handrail just in case, not wanting to tumble backward.
Brick looked disgusted as we shoved each other to see who got in the door first.
“Are you two ever going to grow up? This is a place of business.” He pointed to the leather chairs in front of his massive desk, which would dwarf anyone except him.
Fab and I had clearly changed roles, usually she manned the window and I sat in the chair. This visit she draped herself in the one of the chairs. After looting the candy bowl on the credenza, I went and stood by the window, enjoying the corner view of the palm-lined street. I scoped out the property to find the fastest way off the lot, for one of those just-in-case moments. I learned from the master. Fab was always on the lookout for the quickest escape route.
Brick shoved a picture across the desk.
“I’ve got a pickup for you two. This time it's a person, not a car.”
Fab and I looked at one another. I noticed it was a booking photo of an older woman, though I found it hard to judge her age since jail wasn’t a picnic and had an aging effect. She had pale, weathered skin, a hardened glint to her beady eyes, and grey stubbly hair. She didn’t look like a grandmother who carried cookies in her pocket. Brick held up his hand.
“I don’t want any excuses. It’s an easy job. She’s being released from Lowell in Ocala, wrongfully convicted, a little domestic dispute. She just wants to be reunited with her family and enjoy life.”
Oh great, the middle of Florida.
We needed to start specifying that we were taking jobs in South Florida only. If I had my way, it would be only the Keys. In times like these, I was happy Fab wouldn’t let me drive; a round trip would take twelve hours.
I flicked the photo back across the desk, scrunching my nose.
“Where did you get this case?” Not a stupid question for most people, but posing it to Brick would be a waste of breath. He had a low percentage rate with the truth, and getting all the information from him on anything was impossible.
“This woman can’t possibly afford your helping-hand fees. Is she some criminal friend of yours, or perhaps their mother or sister?”
His clenched his jaw and glared at me.
“You two listen to me. I apologized for Carlotta Ricci and how the case didn’t go according to plan. I also paid your screw-me rate.”
“Thanks for reminding me.” My mouth was drawn in a tight line. “A new stipulation to working for you is that if the job goes off the rails and over the cliff... in simple terms, if we get shot at, arrested, or kidnapped, the fee is quadruple. One more thing, too: you might want to think about Jimmy Spoon’s reaction if anything serious were to happen to either one of us.”
Brick's fist came down hard on the desk, his eyes growing dark and beady. “Are you threatening me?” he demanded.
“Just stating facts,” I hissed back. “You know the man. Here’s a big FYI: He’s dating my mother.”
I could see from the look on his face the last tidbit of information came as a surprise. For a man who did business in the Cove, it surprised me that he was ill-informed. It would behoove Brick to keep track of life there; his ignorance could end up biting him in the rear.
“Like-I-said,” Brick stuttered, his anger abating a little. “Pick Mrs. Compton up. Take her home. How hard can that be?”
“You always say that,” I reminded him. “Are we agreed on the new terms?”
“Yeah, yeah. But don’t think you’re going to screw me on every job. I should have a release date by tomorrow.” He busied himself with the papers on his desk.
Fab stood up.
“Are you two done?” She didn’t wait for an answer, having already cleared his office door.
I grabbed cold waters and two more bags of Oreos from the snack bowl to calm my nerves from the stressful meeting and waved goodbye to Brick.
“Most people take one piece of candy, not the whole bowl,” Brick snapped.
“Well I’m not most people. Besides, I share––one for her, the rest for me.”
Fab waited at the bottom of the steps.
“Just know in the new business, you’re handling all the billing issues.”
“Have you thought about buying your own car and telling him to go to hell?”
“You sound like Didier. He wants me to find another line of work,” Fab sighed.
Chapter 16
I came through the side fence, returning from an early morning walk, a bucket of shells in my hand.
“About time you showed up.” Fab smiled and shoved a glass of iced tea at me.
I squinted at her, and sat in a chair across from the lovebirds.
“Pardon me for being suspicious, but what do you want?”
“I’m just trying to be more gracious, show you I don’t take you for granted.”
“I suspect Didier’s influence.” I looked over at him, trying not to laugh. “Are you enjoying the one time you asked her to do something and she actually did it?”
“Cherie....” He shook his finger.
Every time I heard him say that French endearment as a two-syllable word, I felt chastised.
“Just spit it out. When do I ever say no? Well, sometimes, but just because it’s so much fun.”
“I got a new client and I need your help,” Fab said.
“Aren’t I an associate or some other such BS title? How many people knew before me?”
Didier glared at me.
“It’s not like I used the F word.” I glared back. “What kind of case?”
“The client is Horton King, a yacht salesman up in Miami. He’s out on bond for beating his girlfriend.”
“Not interested. Have fun without me.” I wasn’t interested in helping a woman abuser.
“He says he never touched her,” Fab said.
“That’s what they all say. Or maybe she deserved it?” I arched a brow and smirked.
“Then why call us?” Fab asked. “I want you to go.”
* * *
We parked in front of an all-glass building, which lay on Beach Boulevard in Fort Lauderdale. Inside the floor-to-ceiling sliding doors of the showroom, two-million dollar boats were on display. More than three dozen boats of various sizes were on exhibit around the lot. At least no oily salesman lurked nearby, waiting to pounce once we got out of the SUV.
“Miss Merceau.” A man came around the corner of the building. Nice looking, fortyish, definitely worked out, with thick grey-silver hair that looked good on him. On a woman, that hair would make her look older than a stump.
He stuck out his hand, and he and Fab shook. I refrained from licking my palm and sticking it out. Instead I put both hands in my pockets. I’d do anything to keep from shaking hands.
Fab said something I couldn’t hear as Horton King invited us into his office.
Once seated, he opened a folder and shoved a picture across his desk. It was of a young blonde woman. She had thick black roots, a pair of blackened eyes, and a puffy mouth. ‘Kelsey James’ was scribbled on the bottom of the page.
He held out his hands, palms down, twisting them side to side. “Take a good look at my knuckles. Don’t you think they’d be bruised?” He stood up and unbuttoned his dress shirt, taking it off and turning around for our inspecti
on. “Not a mark on me.”
“Tell us what happened,” Fab asked, giving him a smile.
He seemed like a decent sort. Behind him on a table was a framed picture of himself with two teenagers, but I wasn’t sold. I knew firsthand that the normal-looking ones turned out to be just as abusive as the ones who boasted of their talents. Scanning the office, I scowled; no snack bowl in sight. If he was about to launch into some long-winded explanation, I’d need a mini Snickers bar or something else with white sugar.
Lately Fab and I had reversed roles. She had swiped my patience gene, while I just wanted to go to the beach. Ever since we found the head, I felt unsure, even fearful at times, in my own home. I shook my head, refusing to allow the gruesome image to take hold again.
“We’d been dating about two months,” Horton began. “Kelsey’s high-strung, a bundle of energy. We got along great.”
That was code for ‘She’s crazy but the sex was amazing’.
Horton blew out a long sigh of frustration and ran his hands through his hair, settling back in his leather chair. Behind his glass desk, he had an amazing view of the dark blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
“We went down to Marathon for dinner,” he said. “Kelsey was in a bad mood when I picked her up, a surly attitude from the start. I thought with a little food and drink we could salvage the evening.”
He was hanging in for the jungle sex.
I tried to hold back a snort and instead it came out as a weird unidentifiable noise. Fab and King both stared at me. Fab toed my leg with her expensive pump. She had out-dressed me in a sexy black pencil skirt and a cream-colored, button-down silk blouse. I traded my tropical print skirt in for a black one and forced my feet into a pair of sliders.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.
He turned and opened a small refrigerator, pulling out two bottles of water, as Fab requested. His back to us, I poked her arm and tapped my watch, fake yawning.
She shook her finger in a perfect imitation of her boyfriend.
“Before we got out of the car, Kelsey started a fight in the parking lot. She informed me that I was a snore-bore, that I didn’t know how to have fun, and that she wanted to see other people.” He paused. “Then she demanded money and said she’d get her own ride home. I told her I'd take her back. I stopped for a traffic light several blocks away. She jumped out of the car and took off.”
“You just left her?” I scowled at him.
“The light turned green, horns began honking. By the time I circled the block, she was gone. I tried calling her, but she turned her phone off. A few hours later the cops beat on my door with an arrest warrant. They say she accused me of doing this,” he pointed to the picture.
“Why do you think she fingered you?” Fab asked.
“No idea. I never hit a woman in my life; ask my ex-wife. We split because all I ever did was work, and she got tired of being ignored. I’ve never been arrested until now.”
“How did you two meet?” I asked.
“At a grand opening party of a beachfront restaurant. She introduced herself, came on to me, and I went willingly. She’s sexy as hell.”
“Any ideas who did beat her up?” Fab asked.
He blew out a long breath. “I honestly don’t know much about her, except that I really liked her and she brought fun into my life. In retrospect, I probably came on a little strong, wanted to move the relationship along, see each other more, and be exclusive. Why not tell me she wasn’t interested? She wasn’t shy. Instead, she just hits me with trumped up charges?”
“Have you been contacted by a lawyer representing her?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I can’t contact her, either. She filed for a temporary restraining order, and it got served the next day. Frankly, I never want to see her again, but I need the truth to come out. This kind of a charge could ruin me and bring shame on my kids.”
Fab took a worn black leather notebook out of her purse and asked him a few more questions, writing down all the information he had regarding Kelsey James, starting with how we could find her.
Norton handled himself well, answering all the questions in a straight-forward fashion. There was no hemming or staring around the office, and he came off as believable. I’d reserve judgment until I met Kelsey. Why file a police report against the wrong man?
While Fab assured him we’d be in touch, I scurried out the door and hustled back to the SUV.
“Couldn’t you be nicer?” Fab glared at me.
“Now you know what it’s like going places with you,” I told her. “I warmed up a bit towards the end, considering I went in thinking he was an abusive pig.” “If everything he said is true, meeting Kelsey should be interesting,” Fab said.
“Why couldn’t you get us a nice lost dog case?”
Fab snorted. “FM Associates doesn’t go out and locate lost dogs and cats. Those calls will be forwarded to you.”
“As long as you come along and drive me.”
“You’re getting used to my driving!” She beamed.
“Yeah, it doesn’t make me want to puke as much.”
Chapter 17
“Hungry?” Fab asked.
“I take it we’re eating here.” I stared out the window at The Hut. Fab had edged her way through the bumper-to-bumper beach traffic to slide into a parking space out front. It was a long square building, all open seating, and the roof was a series of tiki umbrellas.
“You have cash on you?” Fab asked. “We might need some bribe money.”
“You do inform your clients that bribes are billed back to them and that they shouldn’t expect a receipt?”
Fab ignored me and asked the hostess if we could sit in Kelsey’s section, but the girl looked a little surprised and informed us that Kelsey no longer worked here.
“Let’s go,” I whispered.
She ignored me, headed to a table, and sat down. “Sit,” she pointed to the chair. “We’ll find out what the heck happened.”
I opened the menu and perused the high prices. The restaurant was half-filled and, with the lunch rush long over, that meant that it was a popular place. “You know, I’ve never had a twelve-dollar hamburger that didn’t taste like shoe leather.”
“Get a salad,” Fab said with no sympathy.
The waitress wore cutoff shorts and a t-shirt tied in a knot, showing off her toned and tan midriff. She came up to take our drink order.
“What happened to Kelsey James?” Fab asked her, ordering for me without asking what I wanted.
The girl's face changed instantly from a forced smile to one of suspicion. “She got fired. It’s restaurant policy that we do not to speak about employees, past or present. If you’d like, I can call the manager.” She turned and walked away.
“That went well.” I reached in my purse, finding my wallet and took out several twenties.
She came back with our drinks. Her name tag read Peggy.
I held up a twenty. “Is this enough for you to tell us why she got fired?”
She eyed the money and looked between the two of us. “Who the hell are you two?”
Fab flipped open a badge and answered. “She got assaulted the other night, and we’re here on behalf of the police department to investigate.”
If you didn’t stare too hard, Fab's badge looked like the real thing but, in fact, it was just a PI badge, easily purchased in a uniform store.
“She got caught stealing.” Peggy jerked the money from my fingers. “Instead of ringing up cash sales, she pocketed the money and gave free drinks to her drunken friends. During liquor inventory, a few bottles turned up missing. They weren’t directly connected to her, but who else could it have been? Gossip has it she had a habit of taking things out the back door at the end of a late shift.”
Being a thief didn’t answer who blacked her eyes and why.
“Do you know if she got a new job?” I asked.
“Your twenty ran out. You’ll need to refill.” Peggy held out he
r hand.
I handed over the money.
“Kelsey’s working at a beach bar, The Whale. Only way you get a job there is if you blow the owner, Harold. Place does a kick-ass business.” Peggy looked around. “I’ve got more information for sale. I get off in an hour; I can meet you somewhere.”
“Bring us our check,” Fab said.
“You’ll need to hit the highlights of what I’ll be paying for ahead of time to determine my willingness to pay,” I told Peggy with a frown.
She put her hand on her hip, her lip curled up. “I can tell you all about her, right down to her shoe size. Is that enough of a preview?”
“Where do you want to meet?” Fab asked
“There’s a hot dog stand down the street. Looks like a hot pink wiener, can’t miss it. Grab us a table and get me a coke, extra ice.”
“She’s so charming.” I said, after Peggy set the check down and wiggled over to a table of college boys.
* * *
“Two hundred.” Peggy held out her hand.
The three of us had settled at an old, round metal table downwind from the fried food smell. I had to readjust my skirt, not wanting to get a rash from where the finish on the chairs had rusted.
The dog stand was located on prime real estate along the main highway that ran through town and up along the coast. If one leaned over and squinted between two neighboring buildings, they’d get the barest glimpse of the ocean.
Having been tricked on more than one occasion, I said, “I’ll give you a hundred upfront, and if it’s good information you’ll get the rest. You waste our time, and she’ll shoot you.” I inclined my head in Fab’s direction.
“Who are you two really?” Peggy looked wary, as if she was about to leave.
“Two women who bought you a soda,” I said and pointed to it sitting on the table. “We’re also willing to pay cash for what amounts to gossip. You deliver and you’ll find we’re good tippers.”
Peggy stared out at the slowly passing traffic. “What do you want to know?” she finally asked. “Kelsey’s a bitch, but I’m sure you know that already.”
Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 07 - Kidnapped in Paradise Page 8