Madison Westin 02-Deception in Paradise

by Deborah Brown

  “Since Jackson is cooperative, get him to sign a dismissal dropping the lawsuit.”

  “He told me one hasn’t been filed,” I related.

  “If anything does get filed, get him to sign off while he’s in a cooperative mood.”

  “The lawyer behind all of this was Tucker; the one in South Carolina was a shield.”

  “Both lawyers are bastards.” Whit snorted. “Tucker doesn’t have a down and dirty reputation for nothing.”

  “Even if I could get Jax to agree to drop the lawsuit, Tucker would never let him back out.”

  “What’s on Tucker’s agenda this time?”

  “Same old, he wants my house. Why? I don’t know. Let’s face it; there are properties with better locations, better lots of things. Seems to me he just wants something of Elizabeth’s for some reason.”

  “Maybe he thinks if he has her house, it will transfer the respect people around here had for her to him,” Whit said.

  “Or I’ll have to spend so much on lawyer fees I might have to sell The Cottages. If I can get Jax to drop his lawsuit, can it be done without Tucker finding out?”

  “Normally, Jackson’s lawyer would be doing the filing,” Whit advised. “In this case, since he is willing to burn Tucker, Chet can draw up a dismissal, and you file it with the court. The clerk will mail Tucker a copy, making her the bearer of the good news. My money’s on you, girl. One more thing.”

  I groaned. “There’s more?”

  “Chet won’t be your attorney of record in this dismissal. He’s not interested in a fight with Tucker. That’s why you’ll have to take care of the filing.”

  “I really appreciate this, and I can get it filed,” I assured him.

  “Keep me informed. Now that I’ve lifted the ban on gossip, I’ve become a junkie. When there’s nothing good going on in the Cove, I have Hollywood websites bookmarked.”

  I laughed. “I really like you. I can see why my aunt loved and respected you.”

  “I know everyone in town. You need help, call,” Whit offered.

  “I do have a question. What do you know about Sid Byce?”

  “Aren’t you full of surprises?” Whit laughed. “He’s the big league in this town.”

  “Byce is demanding Jax be arrested,” I said. “Jax didn’t kill anyone. I want to find out who did.”

  “Byce is power in South Florida. Nothing happens he doesn’t know about. It frustrates him that he can’t run it as his own little country. He has powerful friends around town: police chief, mayor, all the members on the city council.”

  “What do you know about him personally?” I asked.

  “He’s known to be a straight shooter,” Whit continued. “Hardnosed businessman, no personal scandals.”

  “Is there a Mrs. Byce?”

  “She died; they had one son, Alexander. He was arrested for drunk driving a couple of years ago; crashed into a couple of parked cars, and spent over a month in the hospital. The kid garnered sympathy because he spent some time in the hospital and then hobbled around on crutches and then a cane.”

  “Anyone hurt?”

  “No one else was injured, late at night, streets deserted. After he got out of the hospital, he posed for every photo he could for the local paper. Looking remorseful, promising to change.” Whit snorted. “Blah-blah nonsense, no doubt written for him.”

  “Any problems at his restaurant or with his employees?”

  “The food’s great. I never pass on the dessert tray. His restaurants get featured in travel books with five-star ratings. The young ones line up to work there. I hear it’s a fun place, and the money’s good.”

  “This murder makes no sense,” I said.

  “In what way?”

  “Pavel was a straight-up guy, no criminal record, friends speak well of him, a harmless weekend drunk, and we both know a lot of those in this town.”

  “So, why kill him?” Whit asked.

  “Exactly! He worked for Byce. The girlfriend had a couple of arrests for drunk in public, open container. How does any of that answer your question?”

  “Maybe it’s as simple as random,” Whit suggested.

  “In this town? I checked out the crime stats: an occasional break-in or stolen car, mostly drunk in public and DUI arrests. The last murder was two years ago. Eighty-year-old Betsy Winters shot her husband when she walked in and caught him in bed with a younger woman.”

  “I remember that.” Whit laughed. “The other woman was twenty years younger and survived.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “People turned on her. Everywhere she went, people called her a home wrecker and blamed her for that horny old bastard Winters’ death. After she recuperated, she moved to West Palm.”

  “And Betsy?” I laughed at the idea of shooting Jax; not killing him, but making sure Mr. Sir was rendered ineffective.

  “Aah, Betsy. I have it on good information that she faked out the District Attorney with a dementia defense. She never went to trial and was instead sent to a senior home where she died a year later.”

  “I hope you’re wrong about the random thing because then we may never find out what really happened.” I shook my head. “In the meantime, Byce has decided he wants Jax to pay for the crime, and Detective Harder seems willing to go along.”

  “Harder? I forgot about him. They’ve been friends for years. Harder’s one of the people in the power circle.”

  “What’s up with that? Harder’s the only detective to investigate murders in Dade County?”

  “Good friend of Byce’s. Byce probably called in the favor, and the police chief would’ve assigned Harder to the case.”

  “You know what this town needs? A girls’ network that rivals the boys’.”

  “I like that idea.”

  “Please keep this conversation between us. No one can find out I’m asking questions.”

  “No one will hear anything from me,” Whit said. “I’ll keep your secrets, like I did for Elizabeth, and take them to my grave.”

  “Secrets? I’m going to take you to dinner, get you drunk, and pry those secrets out of you.”

  “I’d like that.” Whit laughed. “I’ll get a dismissal drawn up by Chet and send it over, and you get Jax to sign. Chet’s name won’t be on the document. He wouldn’t screw Tucker openly because he doesn’t want a war, but it’ll hold up in court, if challenged.”

  “I appreciate the info. Jax promised I would be the first to know about anything regarding the case, and that would include the filing of a lawsuit. He’ll sign the paperwork, and I’ll get it filed immediately.”

  “Jackson’s a lucky man to have you watching his back. I hope he appreciates it.”

  “I think he does. For the record, I’m doing it for my own self-serving interests.”

  “Keep me updated,” Whit said.

  CHAPTER 25

  “Get up, you fat prick!” I kicked Robert in the leg as hard as I could.

  “Huh? What?” Robert poked his head out from under the blanket. He blinked slowly as he focused on me. “How did you get in here?”

  “Walked. Now, get up. You and I are going to the pawn shops to get my garden equipment back.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He rolled over to go back to sleep.

  I leaned down and cocked my gun in his ear. “Yes, you do. I have the pawn receipts right here, signed by you.”

  “Get away from me, you crazy bitch.” He eyed my gun pointed at him. “You broke in and are threatening me. I should call the cops.”

  “Would you like to use my phone? I’d like to hear you explain how you stole my stuff and pawned everything.”

  “What’s going on in here?” Jax asked, standing in the doorway, clad in a pair of boxer shorts. He always looked much better than I did in the mornings, and I still found it irritating.

  I pointed at Jax. “Get out.”

  “I told you she was crazier than when we were married,” Jax said to Robert, eyeing
my gun. “Think about my mother before shooting him. She doesn’t like him either, but she wouldn’t want you to kill him.”

  “I wouldn’t kill him, but I can blow his foot to bits all over this room.” I hit Robert’s foot with the gun.

  “Oww. Get her out of here, Jax!” Robert yelled.

  “You’re on your own.” Jax closed the door behind him.

  I turned back to Robert. “You’ve got ten minutes. I’ll be waiting outside. You’ll do this, or I’ll shoot you and then call the cops.”

  “Jax knew all about this,” Robert said.

  I walked out of the bedroom to where Jax stood, slamming the door as hard as I could.

  “Look, honey.” He pointed at his crotch. “Morning dick, like the good old days.”

  “You stooped so low as to steal from me!”

  He looked me in the eye. “I know you won’t believe this, but I didn’t know until after the fact.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “After everything that’s happened? I didn’t have the money to buy the stuff back. Honestly, I was hoping you wouldn’t find out.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll deal with you later.”

  “Thanks for not shooting him,” Jax said.

  I slammed the front door in his face. It was childish, but felt good. Mac was standing under an open window next to the building. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  She jumped back, hitting her head. “Ohhh! The window was open, and once I heard ‘fat prick,’ I stopped to listen. I know I shouldn’t have, but who can pass up a good ass chewin?”

  “What’s happening I don’t know about?”

  “When does that happen?” Mac pointed to the cottage I had just left. “If we got rid of Robert, there’d be no complaints.”

  “Ms. Madison, Mac.” I turned, and saw Creole walking in from the beach. Tall, lean, and muscled, he made my heart race. Water drops clung to his chest, making me think indecent thoughts.

  “Creole.” I stared at his mouth, recovered my manners, and smiled.

  He barely broke stride and continued down the drive, disappearing inside his cottage.

  “He winked at you.” Mac nudged my arm. “Half-naked like that, he gives me a hot flash.”

  “Makes you want to see the rest,” I said. My cheeks burned.

  “Listen to you. I wonder if his you-know is…”

  “Stop. We’ve already agreed he’s hot.”

  I needed to focus, not fantasize about Creole all day. Besides, Zach wasn’t exactly chopped liver. A night of hot, sweaty sex with Zach, and it would be Creole who?

  Robert came outside. “Someone broke into our cottage,” he told Mac, staring at her boobs, which were stuffed into a child-sized shirt.

  “You should call the police,” Mac said. “Be sure you get rid of the pot first.” She smiled and walked away.

  “Did I tell you you’re looking really good these days?” Robert asked.

  “Get in.” I pointed to my SUV.

  “No, really. I’ve seen you skinny, fat, and skinny again. This in-between look is much better on you. Nice ass, sticks out in the back.”

  “Thanks.” Had he just told me I had a fat ass?

  “I wouldn’t kick you out of bed.”

  “Look, we’re going to three pawn shops. I pay to get my stuff out of hock, you sign, and you load it in the back. I haven’t figured out how I’m going to get the riding mower back.”

  “Fill it up with gas, and I’ll ride it back,” Robert offered.

  “I don’t trust you not to stop at another pawn shop and hock the thing again.”

  “Give me twenty for my trouble, and I’ll give you my word.”

  “Your word!” I snorted. “You’re hilarious.”

  He looked at me suspiciously. “This isn’t an ambush is it, where I end up in jail?”

  “No, Einstein. Then how would I get my stuff back?”

  “I’d have to tell the cops about Jax’s part in this; he’s a co-conspirator.” Robert had that sneaky smile on his face that made me want to beat him senseless.

  “You’re dumber than a bag of barber hair. And here’s one of the many differences between you and Jax; he doesn’t steal. Your signature is the only one on the receipts, so it looks like your co-conspirator left you hanging.”

  “Jax knew if you found out, you wouldn’t call the cops,” Robert said.

  “You lucked out because I want everything back, and I don’t want to wait until you’re in jail.”

  He looked over at me. “I like fat fuck.”

  “What?”

  “You used to call me fat fuck. I like that better than fat prick.”

  I laughed. “I’ve cleaned up my language post-divorce.”

  “I remember when I first met you and what a prissy chick you were. After a year with Jax, you were using ‘fuck’ three or four times in a sentence. It used to impress me how you could load a sentence with four-letter words and have it make sense.”

  “Those were the good old days.”

  Pawnshops all looked alike and operated the same. The first two were uneventful, no drama. All they wanted was the money. I paid cash, Robert showed his identification, and signed the paperwork. I got back my garden tools, blowers, and a push mower. They’d paid him next to nothing. The interest was loan shark rates that I didn’t know were legal.

  Our last stop was Star Pawn. “I’m back,” I said in a loud voice when Robert and I were buzzed in the front door.

  “Hi,” I said to the woman as I walked past to her husband.

  She glared at me and started in my direction. Her husband walked in front of her, grabbing her arm. “I’ll take care of those two.”

  “I was in the other day…” I started.

  “I remember you. I didn’t figure I’d be seeing you again.”

  “This is the thief who stole my lawnmower, and I’m here to pick it up,” I said.

  He eyed Robert. “I want to see the cash first, then the paperwork. I planned on keeping that mower for myself.”

  Teflon Robert smiled. He couldn’t have cared less about anything going on. He didn’t concern himself with legal or otherwise.

  I opened my purse, pulled out my reading glasses, the cash, and handed it to the pawnbroker. “I bought it at Home Depot. They still have them in stock.”

  The owner turned away and went in his office. I was ready to start screaming, ‘Where the hell are you?’ when he reappeared.

  “Robert, sign here,” the man said.

  “I didn’t know you wore glasses,” Robert said to me.

  “I need them for the fine print.”

  “I love the librarian look you have going. Sexy.” Robert winked.

  “I knew this was some kind of scam,” the pawnbroker hissed. “You two figured you’d walk in and say the mower was stolen, and you’d get it back. Doesn’t work that way, girlie.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “You two are banging each other. Robert here looking at you, licking his lips. You thought you’d concoct this story, thinking you were going to screw me.”

  “I need the key,” I told the guy.

  He slammed the key on the counter. I picked it up and handed it to Robert. “I’ll meet you at the gas station on the corner.”

  “You say he stole the damn thing, and then you give him the key to ride away on it. Get out of here, and don’t either one of you come back in my store again.”

  “Thanks for all your help.” I pushed open the door and left quickly.

  I waited for Robert to come riding around from the back. “Madison!” Robert yelled. “Not that I don’t trust you, but I need the twenty up front!”

  “You’re a piece of work.”

  “My mother taught me to get paid before doing work.”

  “Your mother?” I was surprised because he never mentioned his family.

  “I know what you’re going to say, you can save it,” Robert said. “If she was here and I told her I had n
othing to do with this and you were a liar, she’d kick the crap out of you.”

  “I didn’t know you had a mother. For some reason, I thought you were found under a bush.”

  “As much as my mother would like to downplay it, she’s completely at fault for making me the pretentious son of a bitch that I am today,” Robert said.

  That bit of honesty left me speechless. “Here’s your twenty.” I ripped it in half and handed it to him. “You’ll get the other half when you deliver. I’m going to follow you back, so take Gulf Boulevard. The nearest gas station is two blocks down.”

  He waved his half of the twenty, smiled, and put the mower in gear.

  The drive back to The Cottages was slow, going down side streets at one mile an hour. I backed into the driveway and stopped in front of the garage.

  “Drive it in here!” I yelled to Robert. “Then help me unload this stuff.”

  “Is there extra pay for this?” He held out his hand.

  No, there isn’t.” I pulled the other half of the twenty out of my pocket and gave it to him. “Consider yourself lucky I don’t throw your clothes in the road.”

  Between the two of us, the work took less than five minutes.

  “Thanks for helping.” I’d forgotten how easy going he could be. Nothing bothered him. In the past, many times his charm had worn me down, and we would sit and laugh it up. “Let me make this clear. You steal from me again, and I’ll have you arrested after I have both your arms broken.”

  “I enjoyed our little outing.” He winked. “We should do it again.” He turned and went out to the beach.

  “Robert!” I called. “See this?” I held up a large lock. I’d already given Mac a key. He laughed and kept moving.

  I hadn’t cleared the driveway when Joseph walked out, waving his arms. I pulled back in and got out of my truck.

  “I’ve got an update. I’ll meet you out on the beach. I don’t want anyone to see or hear us.”

  I took off my shoes, threw them in the back of my car, and pulled out a bucket. I couldn’t wait to get out to the beach.

  “We’re talking, not picking up seashells,” Joseph said.

  “We could go down by the water and do both.” It felt good to sit on the white sand, digging in with my toes and fingers and letting it sift through. “Are you okay?” I asked.