Psycho in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 15)

by Deborah Brown

  Mother had bought child safety seats for everyone’s cars. “We couldn’t all share one?” I asked, and she scoffed at me. Mother and Fab had already had a spirited discussion about who got to take Mila shopping first. They both lost. Brad, who’d overheard, put his foot down and told them not to spoil his little girl outrageously—he would do that, and he’d be taking his daughter shopping first.

  I raced to the front door, slowed, then walked out calmly. I waved and motioned for the two to come inside. Mrs. Kennedy let go of Mila’s hand, and she ran to me, grasping mine. The three of us walked back inside.

  “Would you like something to drink?” I asked.

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ll do a walkthrough before leaving, and you can expect a visit in a couple of days.”

  “Any questions, we’ll be right here.” I picked Mila up, hugging her, and sat down on the daybed, setting her on my lap. “I’m not sure if you knew, but you’re going to be staying here with me.” I kissed the top of her head, wanting to smother her in hugs and at the same not overwhelm her even more, though she seemed calm.

  Snow jumped up and pawed her way across the pillows, slid down to nestle against Mila’s side, and went to sleep.

  Mila reached out tentatively, patted the cat’s head, and jerked back. A huge smile lit up her face, and she did it again. Her smile got even bigger, and she petted Snow again, looking up at me, as though for approval.

  “That’s Snow, and she loves being petted.” I pointed across the room. “That’s Jazz. They’re friends.” I’d have to keep an eye out to see how the cats adjusted to having a child around. Probably the same way they reacted to everything else—a sniff and a nap.

  I wished Fab hadn’t snuck out, so she could capture these sweet moments in pictures. If Mila was camera-shy, Fab would have her over that in no time.

  Mrs. Kennedy came back downstairs, went out to the patio, and wasn’t out there longer than a minute before coming back inside. “You have my card if there are any problems, but I don’t anticipate any.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate everything you did to make this happen. I promise Mila will have a good life.”

  “If I didn’t think that, I would have never signed off on the file.” She waved and left.

  Mila didn’t seem to notice, as her attention was focused on Snow.

  I took out my phone, snapped a couple of pics, and texted Fab. “Coast clear.” It wouldn’t take long for her to get back from the beach.

  She slipped through the side fence a few minutes later—unknown to most, there was a path running from the front of the house to a set of steps that wound down to the beach.

  “Mila needs to learn to swim,” Fab announced, walking through the patio doors with a big smile on her face and waving to the little girl. “I’m your Auntie Fab.” She curtsied, which brought a smile to Mila’s face. Fab approached her, hand out. “Do you want to see your new home?”

  Mila stared intently, and after a good minute, she clasped Fab’s hand. “We’re going upstairs.” Fab pointed.

  Mila slid off my lap onto the floor.

  “For now, we’re going to walk up one step at a time. Later, I’ll show you all the cool ways to get up and down.” Fab smiled conspiratorially.

  I cleared my throat.

  “I said later.”

  They went up the stairs. I heard doors opening above me, Fab giving short explanations as they moved down the hall. Mila came back downstairs with Fab, wide-eyed, paused on the last step, and jumped.

  I stood and watched as Fab took Mila out to the patio, pointing out where the pool toys were kept.

  “We need to get you a bathing suit, so you can play in the water,” Fab said, coming back through the French doors.

  I sat on the floor, reached under the coffee table, and pulled out a basket of newly acquired toys that Brad had raided the toy store for, taking suggestions and adding a few choices of his own. Next came a pile of picture books that I’d had fun choosing from the Cove’s bookstore.

  Letting go of Fab’s hand, Mila came over and sat down, staring at the toys. I shifted the basket in front of her. “These are your toys, and they’ll always be under here for you to play with.”

  Fab crouched down and sat on the other side of her.

  Mila reached for a doll, hugging it and petting her hair, much the same way she did Snow.

  “Now what?” I asked Fab and snapped a pretend camera. “We can’t just sit here and stare at her.” I kept an eye on Mila to make sure she wasn’t paying attention to my attack of nerves. I got a tear in my eye at the clucking sounds she made in the doll’s face. “Do we unleash the family on her? That could be overwhelming.”

  “We’re both getting a crash course in parenting.” Fab pulled her phone out of her pocket. “We’re going to ace it.” She walked around the room, snapping pictures from every angle.

  A few minutes later, several issues were settled—what to do next and when to call the family. The front door opened, and Mother and Spoon came in. They had shopping bags with a familiar name on the front looped over their arms and a stuffed bear every bit as large as the man carrying him.

  “Hiii.” Mother waved.

  Mila looked up, then went back to staring into her doll’s face.

  Mother took the bags from her husband’s hand and headed to the kitchen. I stood and knocked Fab’s foot as I passed to help Mother. “More pictures.”

  Spoon set the bear on the daybed and lay on his side on the floor across from Mila. “Is this Mila?” he asked the doll. “Tell her I’m happy to finally meet her after hearing so much about her from her Auntie Madison.”

  Mila stared into Spoon’s face.

  “I’m Spoon, well, Jimmy Spoon. I’m married to your grandmother over there.” He waved in the direction of the kitchen. “You can call me Grandpa, Grandfather, whatever you like,” he rambled. “I’m your go-to person if you need a good listener. Better than a talker.”

  I smiled and left the man to talk Mila’s ear off. I’d tell her later that she was to be congratulated, as I’d never heard Spoon so chatty. I hoped that Fab, who’d stepped off to one side, was now capturing every minute on video.

  “You didn’t forget dessert, did you?” I hugged Mother.

  Mother snorted. “Would you stop squeezing the life out of me?”

  “You’re an amazing mother, and the only one in the family with parenting experience.” I kissed her cheek. “You’re going to be the go-to chick for endless questions.”

  “I’m fairly certain I haven’t been referred to as a chick before.” Her eyes filled with amusement.

  “And a hot one too.” I admired her spaghetti-strap sundress. “I need to call Brad.”

  “He’s on his way. I called him when Fab texted that the social worker had left. He was worried about overwhelming Mila, and I told him nonsense, he’s just scared.”

  The front door opened, and Brad poked his head into the kitchen.

  I pointed to the living room, and Mother and I craned our heads to see father and daughter’s first meeting.

  “Hey Mila, nice to meet you.” Brad waved and bent down, setting a Hurricanes baseball cap on her head and a football in her lap. He nodded to Spoon and sat cross-legged next to her.

  “Have you given your doll a name?” Brad asked, fluffing the doll’s hair.

  “It’s Mila’s new friend. They met on the beach, and she brought her home,” Spoon improvised.

  Mila giggled.

  My eyes filled with tears. Until that moment, I hadn’t heard anything out of Mila except gurgles, huffs of air, and a sigh or two.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Mother, Brad, and I worked out Mila’s schedule. She spent mornings with Mother while Fab and I took care of business, and Brad arranged his schedule so that he ate breakfast and dinner with his daughter and stayed to tuck her into bed.

  Mila learned quickly how fun the guys could be when they went all out to impress a three-year-old. Creole introduced her to
coloring—the first night, he came to the house with coloring books, a gigantic box of crayons, and a blank pad for her own inspirations. She learned to dance from Didier, who waltzed her around the kitchen and living room while she stood on his toes. Spoon had been instrumental in overcoming her shyness around the men. The first morning at his house, he coaxed her onto his back for the ride of a lifetime around the house. Brad couldn’t sing, but apparently no one had pointed that out to him. Armed with plastic microphones and a video of children’s songs, Mila perfected some wild moves that Brad encouraged as he sang along.

  Afternoons were Fab’s and my time to entertain Mila. Today, Fab had met Didier at the office and they made plans for a late lunch, so I hurried home to change before Mother brought Mila home. As I turned the corner, a silver BMW cruising slowly up the street caught my attention. Instead of turning into my driveway, I passed it and pulled over in front of a house three down from mine. What had made me so suspicious? Possibly overreacting, thanks to the kinds of cases Fab took, which kept us constantly on alert. I expected to be laughing at myself at any moment if the car parked in a driveway and turned out to be a neighbor. The driver made a u-turn and passed me again, the tinted glass making it impossible to make out anything more than that there was a man behind the wheel. Ready to snap a photo of the tag number, I realized the car didn’t have a license plate.

  A few minutes later, it had turned the corner and vanished. I turned around and went back home, parking in the driveway. I poked my head out of the car, looking one way and the other. All was peaceful. Just overreacting.

  The house was quiet. Even though Mila was a toddler and still unnaturally silent, her presence filled the house. Not to mention the adults who stopped by to entertain her. I never minded having a house full of guests. Creole and I enjoyed finding ways to sneak off and enjoy alone time. I loved him more, if that was possible, for never complaining. “It’s good practice,” he said the other night when we slipped down to the beach.

  Pouring myself a glass of flavored water, I took every report GC’d sent me concerning Brad’s case and set them on the island, then hopped up on a stool, planning to go over them one more time. If I’d missed anything before, I was determined to find it now. The trial was several months off, and we needed to come up with either the real murderer, a viable suspect, or exculpatory evidence. The body in the car was not an insurmountable hurdle but close. Ruthie had told Brad that there were no fingerprints found on the body bag.

  Hearing a rustle behind me, I asked, “Hungry?” not expecting more than a meow or howl.

  “Maybe next time,” a male voice laughed. “But there won’t be a next time.”

  I spun on my seat, staring at the man who’d entered through the patio doors. Setting down two gas cans on the living room floor, he reached behind him with one hand, closing the doors. The other pointed a gun at me.

  “Cardio. I didn’t think our meeting went so poorly that you’d want to shoot me.” I maintained eye contact, trying not to show fear. How had I missed the vacant dullness in his crazy eyes? He hadn’t left me feeling that I needed to keep one eye peeled, gun ready, after the meeting in his dingy apartment. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

  “If it’s any consolation, you were not my first choice. I’d rather it was your brother.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Maybe you could fill in the details.”

  He only took his eyes off me for seconds to scope out the rest of the room. Not enough time for me to reach the gun in the junk drawer, and even if I could, it was now kept locked. My fingers itched to drag my phone closer, but that wouldn’t go unnoticed.

  “You’re a smart girl, or so you think; you’ll figure it out. Maybe.” He laughed, sending a chill up my spine. “Thought about having you call Brad over on some pretext or other, but figured you’d tip him off, so I decided to settle for second best for now. I’m thinking I might get a kick out of attending your funeral to watch Brad suffer. Then set a trap for him.”

  Cardio’s eyes locked on a framed photo of Brad and Mila. He grabbed it off the shelf, his face filled with rage. “What’s he doing with Patty’s daughter?” He covered the glass in spit. “She had a good home. Patty had plans to get her back.”

  I shuddered at the thought of Patty ever getting her hands on Mila. “Name your price. In exchange, you go far away and neither of us mentions this meeting to anyone.” I didn’t have anything else to bargain with, and even if the option were available, I sure as hell wasn’t going to set Brad up to be killed when he walked in the door. That would end in two dead people, as Cardio couldn’t afford to let me live. My guess was that he knew that already, but I’d try anything. There was running… but then he’d probably shoot me in the back.

  “Money, money, money. Some people think it’s the answer to everything, and you’re one of them.” He sneered. “My mission is to avenge Patty.”

  “But I never had anything to do with Patty.” Now wasn’t the time to mention that I was instrumental in her last arrest, and I hoped he didn’t know. “Brad didn’t kill her, I promise you.”

  “I know. I did,” he said, matter-of-fact. “You’re thinking ‘then why does Brad have to die?’ Because…” Fury filled his face. “He lured Patty in with pretty words and empty promises, and gutted her when he walked out.” He calmed himself somewhat. “Patty and I loved each other. We had plans to move up to the panhandle, settle down, and have a few kids of our own.”

  “You murdered Patty, and it’s my brother’s fault?” My eyes fluttered, a wave of dizziness hitting me. I forced myself to bury the fear.

  “Your worthless brother swept Patty off her feet, and she never gave another thought to her true love, Cardio.” He thumped his chest. “Brad this, Brad that, was all she yammered on about. You’d think that brother of yours walked on water.”

  Mentally, I ran through anything useful in my kitchen. The knife holder sat on the stove on another wall. And bringing a knife to a gunfight equaled loser. “How can you blame Brad? The relationship didn’t work out; it happens.” I had to keep the man talking, but Mother would be there anytime with Mila. I shuddered at the thought of the two of them getting caught in the middle. Cardio would kill Mother. Mila? Coming face to face with Patty’s child, would he kidnap her?

  “You know Patty had finally been cured?” he spat out.

  I flinched at the word “cured.” The chances of that in her case were nil.

  “When she got out, I asked Patty to marry me, and she proudly wore my ring.” Cardio stared down at the ring he was wearing. “We were happy. But she had to see Brad one last time, and there was no talking her out of it. The bastard fixed her good, had her arrested, and we knew if she was deemed mentally fit, she’d get transferred to the county jail to await trial. So she went back to the hospital. I still kick myself for not dragging her out of town when I had the chance. Away from his influence, she’d have come to realize that my love was enough for her.”

  “The reason Patty got arrested was because she drugged and kidnapped Brad and held him against his will.”

  “Your brother lied,” Cardio spat. “Patty told me the truth. He proposed, bought her a house, then when she told him about Mila and that she wanted them to be a family, he turned on her. Said that no way was she going to ruin his future, then cooked up that stupid story and had her arrested.”

  The sheer inconsistency of his fiction about how Brad had treated her made my head spin. I shook off questions about how Brad could simultaneously want to marry her and not want to have a child with her and instead said, “I promise you, had Brad known about Mila, he’d have never turned his back on either one of them.”

  Cardio scoffed at that. “Your promises aren’t worth spit.”

  “Your problem is with Brad, why come at me?” I eyed the gas cans again and could only guess at his plans. In that moment, I decided that if he took a step towards me, I’d make a run for it. I’d rather take a bullet than go up in s
moke. “Would you mind shoving my cats out the door?” I pointed to where they both lay on the floor close by.

  “Filthy things. If they’re that important to you, your family can bury you together.” He laughed at the idea, sounding even more unstable.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, and pain shot through my chest as I sent a mental I love you to my family and friends.

  “You’re never going to get away with this.” I didn’t have to look around to know my options were few. I’d have to make a run for the front door and take my chances on him being a poor shot. “If my family gets their hands on you before the cops, your death will be slow and gruesome. If the state gets you first, they’ll set your hair on fire.” The electric chair had malfunctioned a couple of times in the past.

  “I’d like to do slow and gruesome with you—more guilt for Brad to deal with—but I can’t hang out here all day.” He tapped his watch as though he had someone else to go kill. “You won’t suffer long once I blow this place sky high. Maybe not at all. You’d be surprised what a bullet can do to a gas can. Fireworks.” He threw one arm in the air. “You’ll either burst into flames along with the house, or possibly die of smoke inhalation—not sure there’ll be time for that before you catch fire.” His eyes glittered. “Saves your family some dough—I’m thinking there won’t be much to bury.”

  “How did you get in anyway?” I didn’t care—anything to slow him down.

  “Excellent security system.” He saluted. “Had to be careful. Got me a ladder and waited for the neighbor to leave, threw a rope over one of their tree branches, swung over like Tarzan, and managed not to touch the fence. Landed hard, got a sharp pain in my ankle, but that wasn’t going to stop me. Pays to have a high pain tolerance.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “Unfortunately, it was a lot easier than finding your brother, which is why I changed my plan to zero in on you. Patty saved an old article where they profiled you and that dump bar of yours. You’re not much for regular hours, and it got tedious waiting for you to show. But finally, got you! Followed you home. You’re not much for picking up a tail.”