Chapter 31
Creole turned off at Conch Key. A few turns later, after passing a couple of drunks asleep on benches, he turned onto a side street across from a commercial section of the docks. Looking around the mostly vacant cul-de-sac, the ten foot high mountain of clam shells outside the fish businesses caught my eye. Two warehouses stood side by side. The next hurricane winds would blow the wooden one down.
Creole pulled up in front of a concrete building with an old weathered sign hung by a cord, boasting that it had once been a boat repair place. Withdrawing a remote from the console, Creole pressed a button and the barbed wire fencing parted to let us into the parking area. Another touch of the button, and a ground-to-roof steel door rolled up. Creole drove in, letting the door close automatically behind us.
Creole turned on his headlights. The two-story building appeared to be empty. The only other exits were a door at the back of the building and a small, grimy window that barely let any light in. A steep set of steps led up to the second level, a single metal door at the top.
“This is creepy,” I said, not wanting to get out of the truck. In my new spirit of cooperation, I took Creole’s hand as he helped me to the ground. He reached into the back and grabbed our bags.
Fab pushed me in front of her as I followed Creole reluctantly up the metal stairs. I hated stairs, especially steep ones. I gripped the skinny pole railing and started up, counting each step. Forty-four in all.
Creole surprised me by producing a key instead of a lock pick, and unlocked the red steel door. The door had a small square window, with a stained rag covering the glass. It opened into a huge concrete room. There was a strip kitchen along a side wall and a door in the corner that went, I assumed, to the bathroom. There was a pair of sliding glass doors that opened on to a chicken wire-enclosed deck. I could see an inlet of dirty water below, stagnant and murky.
I guessed that the place was once a business office. It was now partially furnished with the bare necessities, including two double beds on the far wall, a worn out couch, a couple of chairs, and an old maple table. The large space had tons of potential for a renovation, but that wasn’t why we were here.
I eyed the dust balls and the dead roach on the floor and thought it could stand a good cleaning. I had all the fight sucked out of me. I turned away and sniffed back a tear and swiped at the corner of my eye.
“It’s not even clean.” I looked at Creole.
Fab looked ready to shoot him, which made me feel somewhat better. “This is the best you could do?” She looked around, hands on her hips.
Creole ignored us both. “Do I need to get someone to stay with you two, or can you be trusted on your own?”
“We’ll be fine,” Fab growled at him.
Creole blew out an angry breath and managed to bite back a retort. “There’s food, television, and some playing cards and other stuff in the cabinet. I’ll be back later.”
“If you don’t have an update for us, just call,” Fab snapped.
“What don’t you get? This is about saving your life!” He slammed the door.
I sunk down into an old kitchen chair with a worn out linoleum seat and covered my face with my hands.
“Don’t get comfortable,” Fab said sharply. “We’re not staying long. He gets one day to solve the murder. Tomorrow we’re breaking out of this jail.” She slid open the patio doors and walked out to inspect the deck.
Thinking about a jail break sounded exciting, but in reality, I hoped it wouldn’t include jumping from the second story. Fab inspected every inch of the wired-in enclosure, kicking it in a couple places. It only gave a few inches.
She pressed her face to look over the side and yelled over her shoulder. “There’s a fire escape, if we could get to it.”
I hated to ask, Why can’t we just go out the way we came in? I didn’t want to point out only one of us had cat burglar skills.
She came back inside, not happy to have to muscle the door closed. “We need to play this smart, not do anything rash. Let Creole come here tonight, see us calm and cooperative, ready to play ball.” She turned around. “What are you pointing at?”
“There’s a door. Let’s try that first.”
“You apparently missed Creole locking it behind him.” She walked over to the door and tried the knob. When it didn’t turn, she kicked it. “We’ll be screwed if this place burns down.”
“Where’s your lock pick?”
“Your boyfriend forced me to turn it over, and he did it in front of Didier.”
It would have been better to stand my ground and come up with a plan that we could all live with. One that didn’t include an abandoned warehouse in a seedy neighborhood.
I looked at the lock. “We could shoot it off, but that would have to wait until tomorrow.”
Fab flashed her sneaky smile and jerked her travel tote off the floor. She tossed out a change of clothing; clearly she had no intention of hiding out for long. Next she produced a cosmetic bag that she unzipped, removing a flat container. She unsnapped the lid and produced a tool kit, which contained a small flashlight that she shoved into her back pocket.
“Let’s prop this open.” Fab opened the door with one of her handy tools, and looked down the staircase, then motioned me to help her move the marred wooden table.
Wait until both Creole and Didier found out that we escaped from the warehouse under their radar... fully armed and ready for a getaway. I was not looking forward to the wrath.
Fab flipped the switch just outside the door, and only a single light bulb came on. For once, she didn’t slide down the banister. She shined her flashlight on the lock of the small door next to the roll up, and expelled a long sigh.
“I guess we can forget this door.” She poked it several times with another tool.
“This one has been screwed with, something’s mucking up the key hole.” She slowly flashed the light around the darkened garage and landed on a tarp covering something large. She ran over and whipped the cover off. The shell of a car sat on the ground.
That would have been too easy––a getaway car! I thought.
Clearly disappointed, she perked up and continued her search.
“Look at this.”
I slid up in front of her to see that she'd not only found another small entry door, but had popped the lock.
“There’s nothing down here to prop this one open,” I pointed out. “Do you want me to stand guard?”
Fab bolted across the driveway as I stood in the doorway and scoped out the parking lot. It was empty now, but could hold a couple of dozen cars. Fab unlocked the entry gate and poked her head out. She surveyed the neighborhood from her vantage point.
I sighed with relief when the gate slammed behind her, glad that she hadn’t taken off on a more personal inspection of the area.
Fab looped her arm in mine and we headed back inside. “We need a plan.”
Chapter 32
“We should take a vote,” I said as I inspected the couch, sniffing the cushions before I sat down.
Fab hopped up on the table that we'd dragged back across the room after using it as a doorstop. We made sure to get it back in the exact spot, the only four clean circles on the floor making our job easy.
“About what?” she asked in exasperation. “In case you haven’t noticed, there’s only two of us. No tie-breaker.”
“Focus,” I said sternly. “Why are we doing this? To be obstinate? Because we think we have the edge to solve the case?”
“Brattiness aside, we’re much more useful outside digging up our own clues. Who knows more lowlifes than the two of us? One of them might have the information to crack this case,” Fab reasoned. “Besides, how long are we going to last in this rat hole?”
“It’s not oceanfront along a white strip of sand, that’s for sure.” I looked around the room and shuddered. “Think about this for a minute. If we pull this off, we run the risk of looking for new boyfriends, unless we’re dead because they killed u
s. We’re going to get a taste of life on the run, which we always caution others is a bad idea. We’ll also light up law enforcement radar.”
She laughed, all smug. “I vote yes!” She accepted the challenge, and I knew she would enjoy every minute of it.
“That’s two votes for going on the run.” I used my fist as a gavel and hit the table. “Motion passed.”
“We hide in plain sight, right in the Cove. We can’t stay on top of anything if we hightail it out of town. We’ve got the upper hand, since the detective doesn’t have a clue how prepared we are.”
At the mention of Creole, I winced. Even though I was still irritated at the high-handed way he handled this situation, I had to be prepared that he’d leave me. Of course, if I had to stay here very long, that would also have a detrimental effect on our relationship.
Fab broke into my thoughts. “We need a car and a place to hide out.”
“Brick owes us big time. But faced with police pressure, he’d turn on us and give us a flimsy excuse about it being for our own good.”
We both stayed silent, lost in thought, scheming.
I spoke up. “We have Brick drop off a car, one that blends in, nothing fancy, maybe a low-key SUV or something. Give him a short window and a public place to drop. Don’t contact him again until this is over. If Mother weren’t doing Spoon, he’d be my first choice, but Creole has her wrapped around his finger. I can’t trust that Spoon wouldn’t give us up as a favor to her.”
“Really, Madison.” Fab channeled Mother’s stern voice. “Such a vulgar term, ‘doing’.”
“You sound like a cross between Mother and Didier,” I laughed.
Fab shook her head, but she smiled back. “We need a place to stay.”
“Normally, we’d have our choice of hideouts. But in this case, there’s only one.”
“Tropical Slumber,” we said in unison.
“It’s perfect,” I said. “No one knows how friendly we are with the boys.” The friendship with Dickie and Raul had worked out well for all parties. I’d become friendly with Dickie after my aunt’s funeral. Fab had won Raul over when she hid out there to evade law enforcement. They were both insomniacs, and she'd waxed him in board games. If anyone asked me if I’d have a couple of undertakers as friends—the boys would balk at the term, preferring Funeral Directors—I would’ve thought they’d lost their mind.
“If someone did decide to check out the funeral home, there’s a ton of hiding places,” Fab informed me. “No one would look in the crematorium. Fire that baby up and no would set foot inside.”
I felt faint at the thought of hanging with dead people. I should have guessed that during her short stay, she would have politely tossed the place, checking out every corner.
Fab patted my shoulder.
“There’s no contact with dead people,” she said, guessing where my thoughts went. “Well unless… but they’re very protective of their guests. There won’t be any unexpected visitors. Raul once told me that it was hard for them to make friends.”
I lifted the cover over the false bottom in my bag and pulled out a cheap burner phone, plugging in the charger cord.
“Is your cell charged?” I pushed mine into the wall socket and hid it under the mattress on the far side of the wall. “We need that car delivered tonight here in Conch.”
Fab, the Girl Scout, had hers already charged and ready to use. She held it up and flashed it at me before she punched in a number and handed it to me. I rolled my eyes when Bitsy answered.
“This is Madison, I need to speak to Brick,” I said, struggling to be polite.
“Hold on please,” Bitsy said with more sweetness than usual.
I clicked my fingernail against the fake wood, after taking Fab’s spot the second she vacated the table top. I sighed and handed Fab back the phone. “She hung up on me.”
Fab punched the redial button. “Put him on,” she said in a hair-raising voice. “Now.”
A few seconds later, Fab mumbled into the phone and handed it to me.
Why me? I mouthed.
“Your idea,” Fab replied quietly.
“Brick, we need a big favor.” I decided to skip the pleasantries and get to the point of our call. “We need to borrow a small car that blends in, nothing flashy. Preferably with tinted windows. Deliver it to Conch Key. Leave it parked in the Shopping Bag grocery store parking lot. As soon as possible would be a good time.”
“You two in trouble?” he groaned.
“Not yet. Can we count on you?” I asked. “One more thing. When the cops come calling, tell them you haven’t heard from us.”
“You need anything else, call me,” Brick offered.
I tossed her phone back. “Surprised me. He didn’t ask questions and went so far as to offer future help. He was too cooperative; I say we ditch his loaner as soon as possible.”
Fab half-smiled. “When Creole shows up, you have to be nicer, no arguments. Don’t be obvious, but try to weasel information out of him. Don’t encourage him to stay the night.”
She added, “Don’t you be too nice. That will make him suspicious.”
Fab turned on the television. It looked ancient; it wouldn’t have surprised me if turned out to be black and white. Instead, it had grainy color with a handful of stations. Maybe the dog ears, or was it rabbit, would help with reception. Apparently, law enforcement didn’t have a budget for cable in safe houses. Fab flipped through the channels twice and clicked it off, slamming down the remote. The cover fell off and one of the batteries rolled out on the floor.
A drab rug differentiated the kitchen from the rest of the room. I ransacked all the cupboards, finding nothing but mismatched dishes and a few cooking utensils. No coffee! We had to be out by morning. The cupboard in the corner held an old Clue game with most of the pieces missing, a pack of well-worn Bicycle cards, and a box of poker chips.
“The one who wins,” I said as I shook the box, “Buys coffee when this is all over. I prefer The Bakery Café, as you know, and don’t forget I like extra whipped cream.”
“Don’t make me hurt you. I’m out of patience,” she groused.
We both jumped to attention at the same time, hearing the garage door rumble up.
“Hurry up, hand me five cards.” Fab slipped into a chair across from me. “We should have waited downstairs and jumped him from behind. Tie him up, and steal his truck. Let one of his undercover cohorts come rescue his ass.”
I shouldn’t have, but I laughed. “If that scenario played out as you just outlined, he would kill us. No doubt.” I tugged on a strand of her hair. “Remember, happy face or something close.”
Chapter 33
Creole unlocked the door and entered with a brown shopping bag in his hand. He held it up. “Dinner from Jake’s.”
I stood up and took the bag. “Thanks,” I mumbled.
Damn… remember - happy face.
He eyed me cautiously. I smiled back at him, making an attempt to ease the tension from the room.
“What’s the latest?” Fab asked. She picked a few cards out of the deck, then slapped them down on the table.
“I win,” she lied.
I emptied the bag of food and passed on the chipped safe-house dishes, figuring we could eat out of Styrofoam containers with the plastic utensils provided. “I don’t suppose you left the margaritas in your truck?”
He looked relieved that I appeared resigned. He dragged another chair out of the corner.
“The dead guy is Rod Tanner. I’ve got people running a background check on him. We'll find out who he works for, something that tells us why he ended up on your property,” Creole told us.
Fab and I exchanged looks. That was Jax’s other partner. Now that he was dead, would Jax be next?
“You’ve been vague as to how long you’re going to keep us locked up ‘for our own good’,” Fab said, using air quotes. “Does this just go on and on and….”
“I can get a guard if I have to,” he barked.
“Stop it,” I interjected. “We’ve agreed to play nice. Just know this situation can’t go on indefinitely.” I looked at Fab and gave her a demented smiley face. “Creole doesn’t need to add on another layer of humiliation, does he?”
“Can you assure this case is top priority and that you’re beating the streets?” Fab stood and leaned into his face. “That this isn’t some side job you get to when you have nothing else better to do.”
From his lack of an answer, I had a horrible feeling this might not be a short stay in this dump.
I interrupted their stare down and asked, “Where’s Didier?”
“Almost forgot.” Creole pulled his phone out and handed it to Fab. She disappeared out to the patio.
Creole easily lifted me on to his lap and into a kiss. It saddened me to realize it was the first time his lips had failed to distract me from rational thought. I understood his need to protect me, but I felt emotionally pressured. I recognized that I still hadn’t learned to put my foot down, say no, and make my point of view heard.
He pulled back. He wasn’t stupid; he noticed the lackluster kiss. “Tell me you’re not mad. Promise me you’ll cooperate.”
“My promise has an expiration date, so wind this up as soon as possible.” I hated all this lying and sneaking around. But if I shared my feelings, we’d both have a guard assigned to us in a blink. “Are you staying tonight?”
“I’ve got some leads to run down. Besides,” he half-smiled, “I’d be afraid to fall asleep with Fab here. I’ll be back in the morning with breakfast.”
“We both like pecan rolls,” I reminded him. When he got here and found us gone… what then?
Fab came back in and handed him the phone. “Thanks for that. Didier’s in Miami. Another consensus––no one is staying at the house.”
I closed my eyes and thought about the warm pool water, but sneaking home to indulge in a long swim would be foolhardy. I knew we’d be caught. We’d have to be careful in choosing places to hide.
Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 07 - Kidnapped in Paradise Page 16