Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 07 - Kidnapped in Paradise

by Deborah Brown

  I bent over, putting my face on my knees, and started laughing. “Did you even try to negotiate for two hamburgers?”

  She frowned, looking shocked, and we both started laughing.

  I shook my finger at her. “So, your beautiful, sexy self is a bit scruffed up. Worn-looking or not, get up off this bench and use your man skills.”

  “Look at me!” she shrieked.

  A young drunk couple staggered by, took one look at us, and hustled down the street.

  I pulled on a strand of her slightly matted hair and made a sad face. “If it makes you feel better, I bet I look worse.”

  “Plan C, or is it D now? After giving a brief thought to boosting a car, I remembered how much I hate jail. Besides, it’s been a while since of either of us has been arrested, locked up, or contemplated a jail break, and it needs to stay that way.”

  Fab’s whining comforted me in an odd way.

  “We could go to the police station and tell them we know the chief in Miami, but I doubt they’d believe us. What are the chances they’d call and get him out of bed?”

  “Big zero.” Fab scanned the street; with the exception of the occasional drunk straggler, the famous street was deserted.

  “Maybe there’s a pay phone around.” Although I knew that, in this cell phone age, finding a pay phone might be like an archaeological mission.

  “No money,” Fab reminded. “Hitching a ride at night is a terrible idea, and not even a good one during the day. We could sleep on the beach and wait until morning.”

  “We could call collect,” I said.

  “You can’t do that anymore. As soon as the person on the other end of the line hears collect call, they’ll hang up.”

  “Jail calls are collect,” I said excitedly. “You can hear the person’s voice on the other end, so you know who it is, and you’re under no obligation unless you press ‘one.’ If you took a jail call once in a while, you’d know these things. We would have to choose someone with a landline.”

  A police cruiser came around the corner and cruised slowly down the street. The back seat empty, he pulled alongside the curb.

  Before he got the passenger side window down, Fab whispered. “I don’t think telling him our sad story is a good idea.”

  “You can’t loiter on the bench all night,” he eyed us evenly. “Against the law.”

  I looked to see where he pointed and figured it was the street sign I couldn’t read. With only the street lights for illumination, I could barely make out what the officer looked like inside the darkened car. My guess, if we were dressed up, we could sit on this bench as long as we wanted to, but you can’t upset the tourists with homeless milling around. I knew they had a large population living somewhere. I guessed the Main Street was off limits.

  Since I did friendly better than Fab with the legal types, I asked, “Could you direct us to a pay phone?”

  I wanted to beg him to call Mother, but that didn’t seem like a good idea. He might ask questions I couldn’t answer truthfully.

  He looked surprised. “About a mile up, in front of the Conch Motel.” He must have noticed our look of surprise that there were none closer. “There are only two on the entire island; the other is under the bridge at the beginning of the Overseas, in front of Kay’s Cafe.”

  I thanked him. Fab poked me and motioned me to get a move on. The officer waited while we shuffled off in the direction he suggested. A patient man, he continued his vigil until we were two blocks up the street.

  I glanced over my shoulder. “I guess he wants to make sure we don’t double back and warm that bench. How long is this walk going to take?” I groaned. “My feet are falling off.”

  “A long damn time if you don’t speed it up.” She tugged on my arm. “We’ve got another problem––who are we going to call at this hour?”

  “Since I don’t know what time it is, Jake’s is probably closed and no one will answer again until mid-morning. Mac keeps bankers' hours.”

  Fab snapped her fingers. “The funeral home answers 24/7. You know Dickie and Raul would pick us up, dead or alive.”

  “Since we’re alive, hopefully they won’t bring the hearse,” I said. “Does it feel like no one is looking for us? What about Bonnet? He’s a vindictive bastard. Why didn’t he follow us? We didn’t get this far to end up dead.”

  “I figured Spoon or Creole or someone would have kept a watchful eye on that island, and might intercept us once they saw the Jet Ski blasting across the waves in the dark. Would it be too much to ask that someone meet us at the docks where we tied up? It’s a no-brainer, since it’s the most logical place to come ashore, and the closest.”

  “What plan letter are you on? Got one for when we get back to the Cove? I vote we sneak into the house, take turns standing guard, take showers, get clean clothes, and shoot uninvited guests.”

  The Conch Motel sign flashed in the distance. We finally trudged up to the white run-down motel. It hadn’t seen any TLC in a long time, and the sign boasted No Vacancy. Exhausted and with our adrenaline rushes running low, we glared at the damaged concrete where the phone stand had been, the pole sheared off.

  “Now what?” Fab scuffed the sidewalk with her flip flop. “My feet ache from these crappy rubber things. How do you do it?”

  “My feet don’t know any better. The few times they’ve graced a pair of designer heels, they stung all night. I will admit, flops weren’t made for hiking across town. But thank you for snatching them up, or we’d be barefoot and our feet would be beyond thrashed.”

  A flatbed rumbled down the street, back firing, brakes screeching as the driver came to a stop.

  “Hey girlies, you want a ride?” An old man, what little hair he had sticking straight up, shouted out his window. He leered, running his eyes up and down our bodies, starting with Fab.

  “He likes you,” I whispered. “Step up and work your magic.” I nudged her. “Maybe he’s got a phone and we can decline the ride.”

  Fab had a high success rate with men in general, old men in particular. The chat seemed to go well, no shouting or threats of law enforcement. I don’t know what she told him, but she turned and gestured me over and gave me a hand up onto the back of the truck. We settled with our backs against the cab. When he put it into gear and lurched forward, I clutched Fab’s leg.

  “Too tired to lie. I told him the truth. He uttered a curse word, mumbled something about hoping to get his whistle cleaned by the two of us. Blowjob, I presume.”

  “He must be old,” I laughed. “I eavesdropped on my grandfather once and heard him say that. It was the same trip when I brought home the condoms and put them on my fingers to show Mother. She gave a flimsy explanation that they were balloons and not to waste them. I assured her that Grandfather had a giant box of them. It wasn’t often I rendered her speechless, but I was too young to savor the moment properly.”

  “I never knew mine. He’s a face in a family photo on the fireplace mantel.”

  Fab rarely spoke about her family. They didn’t approve of their free-spirited daughter, and they expressed their displeasure at her not meeting their expectations. They had cut ties long before I met her. Mother embraced her as a second daughter, and I knew they both enjoyed the relationship.

  “Herb doesn’t have a cell,” she said. “He’s giving us a ride to Kay’s; turns out she’s an ex-hooker with a big heart.”

  With no traffic and only the occasional car passing by and a few red lights to contend with, I guessed at ten minutes to get to our destination. I was happy to get the ride; the walk would’ve been painful and long. Herb pulled up in front of an old blue square building. I jumped off the side and waved, while Fab went over to the driver’s side to thank him.

  It was a quiet waterside area, no signs that it attracted the late night illegal trade. The sign across the street said Mobile Home Community. It took up at least one block, and it was in decent condition. Besides Kay’s, there were a couple of nondescript commercial warehouses.
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  “I told him free meal at Jake’s anytime he was passing through,” Fab said. “He apologized for misjudging us as down-on-our-luck hookers. Said he couldn’t remember the last time he did a good deed, and that it felt good.” She headed straight for the phone, walking around it before lifting the receiver. “Now what do I do?”

  “Wait for the annoying woman and her recorded message. If you’re impatient, press ‘0’ and see if that gets you an operator.”

  “No answer.” Fab slammed the receiver down.

  “Nooo,” I stamped my foot. “Did you have the right number? You promised the guys would answer.”

  “We’ll have to wait until daylight and hitch a ride.”

  “Mother will kill us when you tell her it was your idea to hitch rides.” I scooted around her and grabbed the phone off the hook, this time no dial tone. I beat the phone against the pole and listened again.

  “What in the hell are you two bitches doing?” a bleach blonde, wrinkled up woman yelled. “Breaking the only pay phone in town. I make good money off that phone.”

  “It doesn’t even work,” I yelled back.

  “It takes a while to start working again after someone makes a call. Like your friend just did. Get moving, and if you come back, I’ll fill you full of bird seed,” she threatened and raised the rifle from her side.

  “Birdseed?” I sneered.

  “You spend a few hours picking it out of your ass, and you won’t come back here!” She racked it, the sound unmistakable.

  Fab cut me off in my foolhardy attempt to confront the old woman and pushed me behind her back.

  “I’m Fab Merceau,” she stuck out her hand. “You must be Kay. I think we can come to a mutually beneficial deal that doesn’t have us touching your money maker over there.” Fab tossed a glance over her shoulder.

  Kay ignored her hand. “You don’t have anything I want, so go, or I’ll call the police.”

  “Look we’ve had the worst day ever,” I yelled as I tried to get around Fab, who blocked me with her arm. “Old Herb brought us here to use the phone. He said you had a big heart, where the hell is it?”

  “Ignore her.” Fab waved her arm behind her back. “Listen to my deal. You say no and we’ll leave; you’ll never see us again. I can promise you that.”

  “You got one minute, and then I’m calling the cops,” she pulled her cell phone from her pocket.

  “We live in Tarpon Cove and got stranded here. As you can see, we have nothing. Make a call for us, and when our ride gets here he’ll pay you a hundred dollars––throw in a sandwich and water for each of us, and you'll make double the money.”

  “Where am I calling?” she asked.

  “A funeral home. They’re good friends and will come pick us up.”

  “Three hundred,” she countered.

  “Larcenous heart more like it,” I said loudly. “We want chips.”

  “Deal.” Fab held out her hand.

  “Keep your hands to yourself. I’m making the call. Not saying I don’t believe you, but I don’t.”

  Fab gave her the number.

  “Do you know someone named Fan?” Kay asked whoever answered the phone.

  “Fab,” I hissed.

  “What’s she look like?” She asked next. After a pause, “Does she have a friend?”

  “This guy says you’re the calm one.” She looked at me and belly laughed. She held out the phone after hitting the speaker phone. “Some guy named Richard Vanderbilt.”

  Fab reached for the phone and Kay jerked it back, putting it on speaker. “Dickie, this is Fab. We’re stranded in Key West; we need a ride and three hundred dollars.”

  “Are you two okay? I’ll have Raul drive; he ignores speed limit signs. It will take us an hour and half, maybe sooner since he’s driving.”

  Kay told him the address and easy directions off the highway.

  “Do you like peanut butter and jelly?” Kay asked Fab.

  If I hadn’t been so hungry, I would have been tempted to launch myself on her and beat the hell out of her.

  “How much extra for a decent sandwich?” Fab growled.

  Chapter 43

  We took our sandwiches, pretzels, and nuts outside and ate them on a tired old bench. We sat in full view of Kay, who worked behind the bar and kept one eye on us with a threat that if we moved, she’d shoot us.

  It seemed like forever, but as it turned out, only an hour later, Raul and Dickie rolled up before us in their Navigator. They both did a double-take, not concealing their shock at our shabby appearance.

  I looked down and got a whiff of salty fish stink from my clothes. A thin layer of gritty sand covered my arms and lower legs, and my cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. I hoped I didn’t stain their leather seats.

  Fab got cash from Raul and took care of Kay. The two of them had called a silent truce, but she and I continued to trade glares.

  Kay followed Fab out the door and checked out the SUV. “I honestly thought you two were full of it. When your ride didn’t show, I planned to offer more peanut butter in exchange for you washing the dishes and cleaning during lunch rush.”

  I turned away, clasping my hands together, so I wouldn’t be tempted to give her the finger. Her high-pitched giggles followed me to the passenger door. I climbed in.

  “If I said thank you five hundred times it wouldn’t be enough,” I said to Dickie and Raul. “I’ll pay you back tomorrow. Anytime you need anything, you call one of us.”

  Fab gave me a butt shove and slid in next to me. They stared, horrified at our condition.

  Raul looked in the rearview and backed out. Fab and I smiled. At long last, we were on our way home. He smiled at both of us. “We are honored that you called us. You’re our best friends in the Cove. The only two people who don’t think we’re weird.”

  Dickie nodded his head in agreement. “Don’t worry about us ever telling anyone anything.”

  “I feel bad if we took you away from your work. You were the only ones we knew that would answer the phone in the middle of the night,” Fab said.

  “We don’t have a funeral until tomorrow. I have Martha Livingston to dress, but she’s not going anywhere,” Dickie said and they both laughed.

  Fab and I smirked at one another. We were finally getting used to funeral humor.

  “Dickie and I want to hear every word about what happened. We made a bet the story would be great. We worried after you left, tried to keep up through town gossip, but no one was talking. We even called Jake’s several times and we got the same response every time: ‘Not here’.”

  Happy to be alive and headed up the Overseas Highway, I let Fab fill them in as I leaned against her shoulder and closed my eyes.

  “Have them drop us off at the main beach parking lot, and we’ll sneak in the back way,” I whispered.

  It seemed fair that they got all the details, since we used their business as a hide out. Fab got into her role as storyteller before her rapt audience of two. She made our escapade sound exciting and more in control than it really was. Several times she threw in details that never happened, making the story sound like an exciting adventure.

  “Come back and stay with us,” Raul offered, and Dickie seconded. “Anyone shows up asking questions, we’ll hide you in the crematorium.”

  “It just got a good cleaning,” Dickie said.

  “No!” I screamed inwardly, shuddering at the thought, and kept my eyes closed.

  “We’ll be fine,” Fab reassured him. “We need clean clothes. And frankly, I’d rather shoot Bonnet than stay on the run the rest of our lives.”

  * * *

  Dickie and Raul threw out good reasons as to why we should remain their house guests. Much to their dismay, and under protest, they dropped us off at the beach. We reassured them and promised to stay in touch on a daily basis until we could come out of hiding.

  We went down to the water and walked along the shore. When we were opposite the stairway by my house, we raced across the sa
nd and snuck up the back steps. We stuck our heads around the fence. Nothing in the backyard had changed, not a single item out of place. We cut across to the French doors, which hadn’t been tampered with.

  “There’s a key under the flower pot.” I nudged Fab.

  She rolled her eyes at me and inserted her trusty pick into the lock. Everything in the darkened living room was in the same place we left it. I had a sixth sense for knowing if something had been touched, and nothing stood out.

  Fab skirted over to the drawer in the kitchen island, taking out a loaded Beretta and checking the chamber. You never knew when you’d be enjoying morning coffee, and someone unwanted would show up.

  Fab headed up the stairs, gun cocked, to check out each room. “You stay at Creole’s hideout, and I’ll go to Miami until we get this figured out.”

  The plan sounded good, except that I didn’t think I’d be welcome at Creole’s. Fab wouldn’t be happy that I failed to mention my change of plans. And if she found out, she wouldn’t leave me to fend for myself. She deserved a happy reunion with Didier, though. One of us should be happy, and my vote went to her.

  “All clear up here,” Fab called down from the top of the stairs. “Everything in its place. I’m going to shower and pack a bag. I’ll sneak out the back again. Gunz is picking me up. And you?”

  “I’ll give you a head start and follow.”

  “Cheer up. We’re alive.”

  It didn’t take long for Fab to come back downstairs carrying a small leather duffel bag. She flopped onto the couch while I went upstairs to shower.

  The warm water from the rainfall shower head sprayed down over me. I retrieved a sea sponge and my mango apricot body wash and went over my body three times, making sure not a speck of ick was left attached to my skin before I gave the same thorough treatment to my hair. I had to force myself to get out, the hot water turning lukewarm.

  I bundled up in a white cotton robe, comfort clothing, and had to remind myself I had to be prepared to run. I changed into a running skort, followed by a lightweight sweatshirt. My feet were so sore I couldn’t bear the thought of stuffing them inside a pair of tennis shoes. That would have to wait. First things first, I put my lock pick in my back pocket. Never again would I leave the house without one. I followed that with cash and identification and then my final accessory. I grabbed my gun holster from the drawer.