Psycho in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 15)

by Deborah Brown

  “Except for living with a dead body, he seems to have his life together.” Fab did a double take to see if I was serious. “I did wonder what would happen to him if Merry was taken away. Weird, I know.”

  “You’re right—you are weird.” Fab humphed. “I couldn’t come up with a single law the man broke—handling the body after the fact, but even that’s a stretch. There’s no indication he harmed her in any way.”

  “I’m not sure if it’s all the sunshine or what, but I know a couple of people in Florida that live with dead bodies. It wouldn’t occur to me.” I shuddered.

  “I can’t make fun of you, since I know those same people.”

  “I need a margarita or six,” I said.

  “Make that a martini and I’m in.”

  “The toast: true love.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Creole dropped a kiss on my cheek and left the house for another day of working on the docks. He’d told me that the project was close to completion and they were working on the final punch list.

  Hanging over the kitchen sink, staring out the garden window, I watched as Creole made his way down the driveway, coming to a halt in front of a woman in her forties, dressed in a suit, briefcase in hand. I was certain I’d never seen her before.

  They stood talking for several minutes, and it appeared amicable. I cranked open the side window, hoping to catch a word or two, but they were too far away. Turning back to the house, Creole ushered the woman to the door, knocked, and opened it.

  Fab came downstairs at the same time, pausing in the entry.

  “Mrs. Kennedy from Social Services.” Creole introduced her to Fab and me, then backed out the door.

  “Mr. Baptiste introduced himself.” She smiled and crossed the kitchen to the island.

  It surprised me that Creole had used his real name, Luc Baptiste… or part of it anyway. Creole had been his street moniker, which he continued to use.

  Before I could invite her into the living room, she set her briefcase on a stool and turned to the patio doors.

  Fab had doubled back and met Didier as he walked inside, looking every inch a CEO in suit pants and a button-down shirt. Fab introduced Didier to Mrs. Kennedy, and my stomach clenched, wondering what the woman would think.

  “Nice to meet you.” He deepened his accent and smiled in a way that would melt any woman. “I forgot my briefcase.” He pointed to the coffee table. “I’ll be emailing you a list of safety changes,” he told me. “If you have any further concerns, you have my number.” He turned slightly and gave me a wink only I could see.

  “How many people live here?” Mrs. Kennedy asked.

  “Two,” I said. “Fab and myself.”

  Fab, who’d waved Didier off at the door, opened the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of water stuffed with fruit and a bottled water. She held them out to Mrs. Kennedy with a smile. “We also have soda.”

  “The fruit one looks good—I’ve never tried it that way before.”

  “Fab’s fiancé is the healthy one. He’s always suggesting ways to put fruit and vegetables in everything.” I laughed. “Would you like to sit out on the patio?”

  “This works perfectly.” Mrs. Kennedy gazed around the kitchen and living room before reaching into her briefcase and pulling out a folder. “I’m happy to hear that you’ve given consideration to safety precautions. Here’s a list of the required ones. Once I’m done checking out the rest of the house, there may be a few more.”

  “Would you like a guided tour or would you prefer to check it out yourself?” I asked.

  Mrs. Kennedy stood. “It won’t take me long.” She turned towards the stairs and paused to pet the cats.

  “Should I sneak out?” Fab whispered.

  “We’re going to act like we have nothing to hide… because we don’t. Do we?” I arched a brow.

  Fab pointed at herself. “Why ask me?”

  “Stick around and let’s get this over with.”

  “Take a breath.” Fab refilled my glass. “You’re going to do fine.”

  Mrs. Kennedy returned. “You have a cozy home.” She slid back onto a stool, making a couple of notes. “Once you fulfill all the requirements, it won’t take long before Mila will be coming home. There will be an inspector calling to make an appointment to make sure all safety issues have been addressed. And in the future, there will be regular visits by CPS.”

  “I appreciate everything you’ve done to make this such a smooth process,” I said.

  “Although healthy, Mila has emotional issues that you’ll need to address, which I know you’ve been made aware of. Here’s a list of health recommendations.” She pulled another file from her briefcase, flipped the page over, and circled something. “This is a local child counselor you can work with to make the transition go smoother.”

  “That would be helpful.” Emerson had also given her recommendation—it was Brad’s intention to find someone that Mila could relate to.

  “I was happy to hear that your visits with Mila have gone smoothly and she’s warmed up to you. I’ve noted in the file that you can arrange unsupervised visits that are convenient with the foster mother.” She gathered up her paperwork, putting it back in her briefcase. “It was nice meeting both of you.” She stood. “I think Mila is a lucky girl to have found family that’s eager to give her a home. Wish it was always this easy.”

  Fab walked her to the door and, after closing it, leaned against the frame, letting out a long sigh. “That went well.”

  “We have Emerson Grace, whirlwind attorney, to thank. She said she’d accelerate the case as much as possible, and she’s followed through.” I pointed to a stool. “Fill your glass and get comfortable. I’ve got some family updates.”

  Fab frowned. “Am I the last to know?”

  “No,” I huffed out a breath. “Brace yourself, though—one of these times, you’re going to be. It’s happened to most of us, and you’re not always going to be an exception.”

  “Just know that I won’t be gracious about it.”

  “No!” I made a shocked face.

  Fab flicked water on me.

  “Brad called—he’s broken the news to Mother. At first, she was understandably shocked, then angry that he dragged his feet about telling her. He smoothed that over by telling her he didn’t want to get her hopes up and then find out Mila wasn’t his. Now that she’s recovered from finding out that she has a three-year-old granddaughter, she’s excited.” I sighed. “It’s the sweetest thing. Brad brought her a framed photo of Mila—one of your shots.”

  “Madeline’s going to be annoyed with us.”

  “We’ll smooth it over with a girl lunch and take her to the gun range,” I said. “Although I’m certain she’d rather we take her to an active crime scene.”

  “I can’t promise that.”

  “Happy to hear.”

  “Don’t forget I’ve got the first shopping trip.”

  “You can duke it out with Mother. My money’s on you, girl.” I air-boxed. “There’s more. Brad told Phil about Mila, and she told him flat out that she was ‘not interested in instant motherhood.’”

  “Good riddance to that one.”

  “You do realize that we’re going to have to tame down our lifestyles?” I said as we stared at one another for a long moment. “Number one on the list is not getting arrested.”

  “You need to threaten your employees and tenants that if Mrs. Kennedy shows up, they damn well better be on their best behavior. Mac’s the best one to corral the herd at The Cottages.”

  “That would be a feat. If Mrs. Kennedy decides to check out the property, I’ll be adamant in telling her that not only will Mila never live there, but she won’t be visiting either.”

  Fab held up her right hand. “I, for one, vow to be on my best behavior.”

  “For how long?”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Once Fab had gotten RSVPs from everyone in the family for dinner with her father, she went into whirlwind m
ode to organize all the details. Don’t know why she waited—as if anyone would turn down the opportunity to helicopter out to a private island and meet her elusive father.

  Fab—arms crossed, foot tapping—was the only one standing in the driveway next to the limo that her father had sent to take us to the chopper pad. She was waiting on the last arrival, who would be late in another minute.

  Liam careened around the corner. Unfortunately for him, he’d get a lecture from everyone present about easing off the gas. He jumped out, looking like an ad for an upscale men’s shop. “Sorry,” he yelled, running across the street. He kissed Fab’s cheek and waited while she climbed in, then followed her, announcing, “The life of the party is here.”

  Brad shook his finger at Liam as he sat beside him. “You know ‘on time’ isn’t acceptable,” he said in mock irritation. “You need to be early.”

  “Anyone have any personal announcements to make, do it now,” Mother ordered. “Any unpleasant issues whatsoever can wait. Got it?” She stared at each of us until we agreed.

  “Surprised you showed.” I stretched my leg out and nudged Brad’s knee. Brad, Liam, Mother, and Spoon shared one bench seat. Creole and I sat opposite them, and Fab and Didier on the end.

  “And miss out on a helicopter ride? Then there’s the agony of listening to the retelling from every single one of you.” He rolled his eyes. “No, thank you.”

  “Tell us about Caspian,” Mother said to Fab.

  “He’s just an ordinary billionaire who thinks about little else except making money,” Fab said, a teasing glint in her eye.

  “Caspian’s not the least bit pompous,” Didier said. “When we first met, I found him easy to talk to—after he asked a million questions to determine if I was good enough for his little princess. He’s a regular guy.” He laughed at Fab, who raised her eyebrow.

  “One with his own island,” Spoon teased.

  “Is anyone else surprised that Fab didn’t insist on driving?” I asked.

  That brought a round of laughter.

  “On the way back, I bet I can get the driver to relinquish the wheel and challenge someone to take on this tank in a drag race,” Fab said.

  Didier’s arms tightened around her, and he whispered in her ear.

  “I’ll let the driver do his job,” she squeaked.

  * * *

  It was a short drive to the helicopter pad, where we all got buckled in and donned headphones. The lift-off over the water was a bit nerve-wracking, but the ride was a short one. The view from the air was breathtaking, the water clear blue, with visibility to the bottom. The island itself was lush and green. When we landed, a golf cart awaited to take us to the house at the opposite end of the island. When we pulled up in front of the house, sunshine glimmered off the endless row of windows that wrapped around the building. A uniformed man met us at the bottom of the curved stairway—a couple dozen steps that ended at an ornate wood-and-glass front door.

  From the open door, Caspian waved, dressed in boat shoes, shorts, and a tropical shirt that reeked “expensive.” He looked every inch the affluent gentleman.

  “Have you met him?” Brad asked as Fab ran up the stairs and threw her arms around her father, Didier close behind.

  “Chasing his limo down the highway was as close as I got,” I said.

  “You know how to make a good impression,” Brad said.

  “At least she didn’t shoot the tires out,” Creole said, and they laughed.

  “Shh, you two,” I said. “Time to trot out our party manners. I know Fab wants her father to like us all.”

  “We’ll charm him. You didn’t bring a gun, did you?” Brad gave me a one-eyed stare.

  I smoothed my hands over my black dress with a full skirt and fitted top. “It’s just a tad too short; the gun would stick out from under my hem.”

  “That means you thought about it.” Brad shook his head.

  We got to the top, where Fab stood next to her father, and she began introducing us.

  Caspian ushered us inside. “It’s nice to meet all of you—I’ve heard a lot of stories.” He led the way into the cavernous living room. Off to one side, there was a bar the size of the one at Jake’s. At the opposite end, double doors that opened into the dining room. The custom table could easily seat a couple dozen people.

  “It’s such a spectacular day, I thought we’d sit outside.” Caspian crossed to a set of open pocket doors, where another man in a uniform stood.

  The patio was an open-air space equal to the size of the living room. In addition to the tiki bar, it had its own large kitchen, with every appliance anyone could want, and an island top with barstools. It didn’t lack for seating—chairs and couches that wrapped around an enormous fire pit, all arranged to take advantage of the endless view.

  Another man appeared and took drink orders.

  When the drinks arrived, it was hard to pull myself away from the railing, where I was admiring the view, to take a seat. Another man appeared, this one apparently a guest, as he acknowledged Caspian in a familiar way before turning for more introductions. He and I made eye contact, and I gasped.

  “It’s you,” I shouted and jumped up.

  “You crazy bitch.”

  Creole, Didier, and Spoon were on their feet.

  “Apologize now,” Creole growled.

  The man stepped behind Caspian’s chair. “That’s the woman I told you about.”

  “Now,” Creole roared and advanced on the man.

  “Sorrrry,” he stuttered, his hands in the air.

  “You can do better than that.” Spoon advanced on the man from the other side.

  “Sorry. Satisfied?” The man looked scared but wasn’t smart enough to appear contrite when facing three angry men, each bigger than his puny self.

  Mother was on her feet. Liam wrapped his arm around her middle and pulled her back into her seat.

  Fab turned on the man and demanded, “What’s going on? Caspian, who is this man?”

  “Rodney Naple. He works for me.” Caspian waved us back into our seats. “Now, if you’ll all calm down and take a seat, this can be explained rationally.”

  “Works for you?” I asked in confusion and turned to Creole. “I’m sorry. I forgot to tell you at the time, and so much has happened since that it slipped my mind.”

  “I’m thinking we got gypped out of a good brawl.” Brad laughed, which earned him a couple of frowns.

  “Everyone sit,” Caspian said. “I’m partially to blame. I planned this big surprise for Fab, and it’s not going off as smoothly as I’d hoped.”

  Spoon was the last to sit, glaring one last time at Rodney, who—after a whispered word with Caspian—pulled up a chair next to him.

  Creole hooked his arm around me.

  I whispered to him, “He’s a pushy, annoying realtor that said he had a buyer for the beach house. It’s all on security tape.”

  “You are in so much trouble with me.” His eyes flashed with amusement before his cool demeanor returned. “Later.”

  Caspian stood and toasted, “Welcome. This is an unusual way to start a party, but I’d like to avoid any brawling.” He shot Brad a hard look. “I wanted to do something special for my only daughter, and since she’s getting married, getting the perfect gift is important to me.”

  Mother, who sat next to Fab, smiled at her, patting her hand.

  “There’s a strip of land that runs parallel to the Overseas, all waterfront, where only a couple of houses have been built. When Fab shared that she’d looked at one of the houses and was interested in buying it, I got the idea to buy all the homeowners out and give it to her. That’s where my realtor comes in.” Caspian waved absently to the man by his side. “I got a report back about how the visits to the properties went and was surprised to find out that there had been an altercation of sorts at one of them. I assume that was you.” His focus shifted to me, as did as everyone else’s.

  “He…” I jabbed my finger at Rodney. “…showed
up, cruising through the neighborhood—a private area, I might add—and went from house to house, ringing the bells incessantly.” That was exaggerated, as I only knew the nuisance he’d made of himself at Creole’s, but I didn’t feel the least bit bad.

  “I certainly did not.” He appeared ready to jump up, but changed his mind when Creole moved to the edge of his seat.

  Caspian cut him off with a wag of his finger and motioned for me to continue.

  “I told him…” I stood, hands on my hips. “I wasn’t interested in selling my house—not ever. Did he leave? No. Heck no. Instead, he crept around the property, taking pictures.” A tug at the hem of my dress made me sit back down. “He scared me to death.” I heard a chuckle in my ear.

  “Your house?” Creole said, only loud enough for me to hear.

  “You didn’t change your will, did you?” I whispered back.

  “No, I didn’t, you mercenary little thing. But I’d have to die for you to collect.”

  “That’s not happening anytime soon.” I winked.

  Rodney cleared his throat, dragging our attention back to him. His face was an unpleasant shade of purple. “That’s not all she—”

  “What’s a girl to do?” I cut Rodney off, staring at Caspian and feigning innocence. I noticed that his lips quirked. “I confronted him, ordered him off the street, and told him not to come back.”

  Caspian broke out in a big smile. “Didn’t you wave a gun in Rodney’s face?”

  “I did not.” I glared at Rodney. “Waving is dangerous; I only pointed. My message finally sank in, and he left.”

  “I’m sure it did, my dear.” Caspian continued to smile.

  “It’s an amazing wedding surprise,” I said, ignoring my family’s shaking heads. “If you do end up buying all that property, I suggest securing the entire area with security fencing. Fab is the perfect person for all your security needs.” I beamed at her.

  “You’re nervy,” Creole whispered.

  “It’s hardly a surprise,” I whispered back, “if Fab’s finding out now. I’ll have to come up with another great idea.”