Spoon answered on the first ring. “You in trouble?”
“I need those ‘fixer’ skills you once boasted of, the sooner the better. I’m willing to part with one of my coveted Elizabeth IOUs.” I reached in the junk drawer and took out the aspirin bottle; I had too much on my plate to entertain a banging headache.
“This ought to be good.”
I related the entire story, ticked off the felonies, and gave him a heads up on the ever-vigilant Sheriff Johnson. I also mentioned Gus and Tolbert were friends, knowing that Spoon had a high regard for Tolbert Rich.
“Make it clear it would be bad for Quirky’s health to bother Mr. Ivers ever again,” I said.
“Problem taken care of. Give me a couple of days; I’ve got one favor ahead of yours. One day most of the people in this town will owe me.” Spoon laughed. “The Poppins riffraff can go peddle their illegal meat and weed somewhere besides The Keys. You keep the IOU. This job is going to require my personal touch. I’m going to ask Quirky how he’d like to be skinned and served on someone’s dinner plate. Call you when the job’s done.” He disconnected.
I shuddered at Spoon’s words, happy to not be Quirky. I redialed Fab and got more voicemail.
I hit speed dial again. “Gabriel’s out of jail and Fab’s not answering her phone,” I told Mother.
“I’m on my way, we can worry together.”
CHAPTER 12
“I brought food!” Mother yelled, kicking the front door closed. “Heard from Fab?”
Mother rocked at to-go food. “Gabriel’s got her, I know it.” I went straight to the kitchen counter and lifted the lid on some great smelling grilled tilapia.
“What if Fab’s out committing felonies?” Mother took out the shell dinner plates from the cupboard, and handed me one.
“If she’s out setting fire to her life, we’re not going to catch fire with her. Burglarizing houses and grand theft is a line I will not cross.” I grabbed a pitcher of cold water that I’d filled earlier with oranges and strawberries to give it several hours to ferment.
Mother gave me a sympathetic smile.
“Why are you so calm? It’s like you know more than you’re saying.” She’d better not say “Zach,” or I’d flip.
“I have a little confession, since I got caught red-handed.” Mother’s cheeks turned pink. “Creole stopped by to take me to lunch. While he showered I snooped through his briefcase. He left it open and on the top lay a file about Gabriel and Fabiana. Before I got to the last page he snuck up on me.”
My cheeks burned with embarrassment for her. I gasped. “What did you say?”
“Can I at least read the last page? Pretty nervy, even for me.” Mother shook her head. “He told me to read fast. Then he put his finger under my chin and forced me to look him in the face. He asked, ‘Should I lock my briefcase in the future?’” Mother sipped her water before continuing. “I told him yes. How’s that for honesty? I know it surprised him. He took my hand and we walked to that new bistro, Chez Nous. He never said another word, which actually made me feel worse.”
“Aww.” I pushed back the kitchen stool and hugged her. “I should call Creole and let him know what’s up. I can’t call Spoon; he’s busy doing me a big favor.” I told her about the Poppins siblings.
“I’ll have to do something extra nice for him,” Mother winked.
I crossed my fingers in an X to ward off any visual images. “No details, not even a hint. Fab would never forgive me if I called Zach. Their relationship is rocky at best. It’s hard to believe they were once lovers.” I called Creole; it went directly to voicemail, so I left a message.
“When the heck were those two doing it?” Mother fumed. “Why am I always the last to know?”
“It happened long before I met Zach and Fab. She once told me they had a better working relationship when they took sex out of the equation. Zach’s problem is that he never meant for Fab and I to become friends and has never adjusted.”
“How are you and Zach doing?” Mother smoothed my hair, pushing it behind my shoulders.
“He’d like it if, when he issued orders, I followed them no questions asked. We fight about stupid stuff. He wants me to commit to living together when we haven’t even said ‘I love you.’ As much as I enjoyed being Jax’s wife, let’s face it—I sucked at it.” I sighed and covered my face with my hands.
Mother patted my head. “Listen to me: Jackson Devereaux started out being a great husband and then one day decided his marriage no longer mattered to him. It takes two--and he checked out.”
“I hear you, but I wanted so badly for it to work and it still feels like one of my biggest failures. I’m not interested in a second one.”
“Come on.” Mother took my hand and led me into the living room. “There must be some awful movie we can watch on television.”
I took my Glock out of the desk drawer and put it under a magazine on the coffee table. “When you get tired you can sleep in my room; there’s a gun in the bedside drawer. I’m going to sleep down here.”
* * *
It felt like I only slept ten minutes, waking early the next morning to the smell of coffee brewing and Mother and Creole sitting at the island. Sitting on the counter was a pink box from my favorite place, The Bakery Café. Mother always over indulged so I knew it was chock-full of goodies.
“Gabriel’s dead,” Creole said.
Mother handed me a cup of coffee.
I gasped. “Where’s Fab? Please tell me she isn’t dead.” I gripped the counter.
“Not one hundred percent sure, but my guess would be that Fab’s in hiding,” Creole said as he refilled his coffee. “She’s been labeled a person of interest.”
Creole shook his finger at me. “Don’t get arrested trying to help Fab. This is a double-murder investigation.”
“Double murder,” I whispered. “Who’s the other person?”
Mother sat next to Creole. I could tell by the look on her face that she already wormed the grisly details out of him.
“Gabriel was found dead on the back lawn of the estate of Maxwell and Chrissy Wright out on Fisher Island. Police found Maxwell face down in his study, both he and Gabriel with bullet wounds to the back of the head; twenty-five million dollars in art and jewelry stolen from the mansion. The security system was rendered ineffective, including the back-up systems, and the tapes from the cameras are missing,” Creole told us. “It mirrors a couple of heists Fab and Gabriel pulled off in France, although the murder angle would be new.”
“Fab would never kill anyone or Gabriel would’ve been dead a long time ago,” I said.
Creole stared at me. “Do you happen to know where Fab is right now?”
I shook my head. “Don’t take this the wrong way but I’m not helping you arrest Fab.”
“Here’s the deal. I won’t use anything you tell me against her.” Creole grabbed my arm. “But if I hear it from someone else then I have no choice. I’m on Fab’s side until it’s proven beyond any doubt to me that she’s guilty.”
“I agree with Madison, Fab’s no killer.” Mother stared at Creole, refilling her coffee. She pointed to his cup, he nodded and she topped his off.
“Why would Fab murder Maxwell Wright? I’ve never heard her mention his name.” Anybody who didn’t live under a rock had heard of the Wrights. The über-rich made headlines all the time, mostly on the covers of the local magazines that catered to the wealthy. “Is there one piece of evidence that leads to Fab?”
I leaped for my phone when it rang; disappointed it wasn’t Fab’s name on the screen, but Detective Harder’s. I exploded at Creole, “I’m not helping the Miami police with anything to do with this case! You and your friend,” I said pointing to my phone that just landed in the living room, “Can call my lawyer.”
I stomped upstairs to shower.
* * *
I wiggled into my favorite jean skirt, which had two big pockets in the front for my cell phone and keys, and strapped on my thigh hols
ter. In the shower, I had made a mental list of people I needed to call. I had no idea where to start looking, but I knew Fab would never come back here if she thought she were in trouble with the police.
Before I saw Zach, his voice boomed up the stairs and I groaned. His presence meant trouble. Coming down the stairs, I saw Creole hadn’t left. He sat by Mother at the island, and they looked like such a united pair that it made me want to scream. Zach stood at the sink pouring coffee into his travel mug.
“What’s new?” I stared at Zach.
“Looking for Fab, and your Mother assures me she’s not here and hasn’t been here.” Zach flashed me his superior smile.
I fought to stay calm. “That sounds like you wouldn’t take my word.”
“I think you’d end up in a jail cell next to her if you thought you could help,” Zach snorted. “If you’d listened to me when I told you she’d make a poor friend, you wouldn’t be having cops sitting outside your house.”
“What proof do you have that she committed any crime?” I asked. “And if she were here, would you arrest her?”
“We have her on video tape running from the Wright residence,” Zach said.
“I thought all the tapes were missing,” I said.
“Unprofessional of you to share information from a crime scene,” he said, sneering at Creole.
Creole shoved his stool back and pulled up to his full six foot four stature, almost eye level with Zach.
Mother jumped up. “More coffee, anyone?”
To look at the testosterone stare-down, you wouldn’t know that they had been childhood friends. I knew it annoyed Zach that Creole came and went from my house with increasing regularity.
“I’m sure you’ll share anything you find out with Miami P.D., Detective Harder has been assigned to this case,” Creole told him.
“I’ll make a note,” Zach said. “What’s your interest? I thought you consorted with drug dealers all day.”
“I have a personal interest,” Creole smiled. “And what’s yours?”
“The Wrights are clients of AZL,” Zach said evenly. “We will retrieve the stolen art and jewelry.” He turned to me. “Who are you anyway? Have you decided that stealing property and leaving behind two dead people is somehow romantic? That bother you any? You believe in Fab so much, and her innocence, then you need to tell her to come forward and turn herself into the police.”
The doorbell rang, which meant more trouble. I raced to the door before anyone could move. “Kevin, what’s up?” From the look on his face, he’d drawn the short straw.
“Here to speak to Fab,” Kevin said, not quite making eye contact.
I opened the door wide. “Come on in, look around.” Kevin walked into the kitchen. I grabbed my purse off the bench and scooted out the door. I cleared the driveway when Creole came running out the front door shaking his head. Two seconds later, my phone rang. The screen said “Mother,” but my guess was that Creole would be on the phone. I pushed “ignore” and threw my phone on the passenger seat.
Looking in the mirror, I noticed Officer Johnson sitting on my bumper; guess he didn’t know tailgating is illegal. I stuck to the speed limit, making a quick turn to drive along the beach. I needed to channel my inner Fab and figure out her hiding place. I led Johnson straight to The Cottages. I pulled up in front of the office; he skirted the lawn, which annoyed me. Who rolls their tires on someone else’s green grass?
Hiring Mac turned out to be a stress reliever. Head phones on, she gyrated in the barbeque area to her latest workout routine, Zumba.
Mac whirled around and waved. “I see Mr. No Personality is back.” She pointed to Johnson. “FYI, he stopped by earlier looking for Fab. I told him he could look around as long as he didn’t touch anything.”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket. Brick would help Fab and so might his brother Casio, if there were something in it for him. “Are you using your own phone?” Brick barked. “I don’t know anything.” He clicked off.
I didn’t get a chance to hang up before my phone started ringing.
“Hi, Dickie.” Dickie Vanderbilt co-owned Tropical Slumber Funeral Home with his partner, Raul. I’d met him at My Aunt Elizabeth’s funeral and we’d become friends.
Mac moved closer to listen. This was a bad habit she picked up from Fab.
“I’m cashing in one of those IOUs you gave me. I need you to escort a body to a funeral in Miami this afternoon. Raul and I need to arrive ahead of the deceased to make sure everything goes smoothly. This is a VIP burial and they are demanding all the bells. I had no one else to call.”
A dead body! I wanted to pass out. “Dickie, I...uh…no!”
Mac made a face. “Eww,” she whispered.
“You won’t have any contact with the body, it’s a ride along. I wouldn’t ask you, but I have no one else I trust––and you did promise.”
“I’m on way,” I sighed.
My phone rang again and this time it was Creole. “Did you find her?” he asked.
“I’m being followed. Is my phone tapped?”
The long pause gave me my answer. “I don’t know,” he said.
I hung up on him. “Can I trade phones with you?” I asked Mac. “Before you answer, mine’s being listened to, or whatever they do, by the cops.”
“Follow me.” Mac crooked her finger and headed to the office. She pulled open her desk drawer and handed me a phone and a charger cord. “This is an extra office phone I keep on hand since the jerk ran into the electrical pole and phone service was out for two days. I keep it charged so it’s ready to use. It’s pay-by-the-minute and not registered to anyone.”
“I’ll see you later. Dickie’s waiting for me.” I reached in the drawer and put two aspirin in my pocket, just in case.
“Why do you get the dead people jobs?” Mac asked.
Good question.
I shook my head. “Just lucky I guess.”
“I’ll take an IOU and use it right now,” Mac said. “You know Shirl, she broke up with her boyfriend. He kicked her out after telling her she could stay until her new place was ready, and that won’t be for a few days.” Shirl worked as a nurse at Tarpon Hospital, was a little crazy, and Mac’s best friend. I liked her directness. You never had to wonder what was on her mind; she’d tell you.
“You know my rule—no more long-term tenants. Give me your word she’ll be out in a few days and won’t be fornicating in the pool.”
“You’ll never know she’s here,” Mac promised, holding up her hand.
As I drove out of the driveway, I noticed a brand new sheriff car parked half way down the block. The city had bought several unmarked Ford sedans, but the limo tint was the giveaway, the windows were totally blacked out.
I laughed. Wait until he had to report back about my next stop, Tropical Slumber Funeral Home.
CHAPTER 13
Unless you were a long time local, you wouldn’t know that the funeral home got its start as a drive-through hot dog stand. It had three previous owners and each one added an addition to make it an architectural oddity. I parked opposite the front door in the vacant parking lot, and walked across the red carpet. At least I wouldn’t be crashing someone’s funeral.
Dickie opened the door and looked around before letting me in. “Were you followed?” He triple locked the door.
To say Dickie was odd would be an understatement. Today, he seemed downright paranoid. “What?”
Fab walked out of one of the slumber rooms disheveled and looking tired. “How’s my cat?”
I rushed over and hugged her. “I’m so happy to see you. I gave Jazz bologna, but I think he likes it better when you feed him your meat surprises. You’re hiding here?” I turned to Dickie. “Are you okay?”
“Miss Fabiana’s a good guest,” Dickie said.
Much to my surprise, he didn’t look like the scared rabbit that he usually did when Fab came around. His usually pale face had a hint of color today.
Fab, hands on her hips, ha
d a shocked look on her face. “Really, Madison, you’re not the only one with party manners. Besides, who would look for me here?” Her laugh brittle, she sounded overwhelmed.
I looked around the main entry at its heavy ornate wood furniture and brocade fabrics on the chairs, slip covered in plastic. “This place never made my list.”
“I’ll leave you two to discuss her problems. If you need anything just ring the bell,” Dickie pointed to a small writing desk.
“No dead body escort job?” I asked Dickie.
“I made it up to get you over here,” Dickie preened. “I thought I did good for a last minute lie, no time to practice.”
I wanted to yell, “Yes!” The whole idea of driving around with a dead body gave me an upset stomach. “Do you have any final send-offs tonight? We might borrow one of your hearses since the sheriff is parked over at the tattoo parlor.”
“We have the night off,” Dickie said.
He left, and Fab and I sat on a bench next to the front door. “What the heck happened?” I asked. “Did you shoot Gabriel or the rich guy?”
“Once we reached the island, the job whiffed of a set-up. Gabriel went crazy when I told him I changed my mind and I tried to run. He tangled my hair in his fist and shoved me to the ground face first, planting his foot in the middle of my back and holding me down with his knee. He snarled at me, saying that if I tried to get away he’d break my arms and legs and let me swim back to The Keys. You and Madeline to follow.”
“I’m going to call Cruz.”
“I can’t afford him,” Fab said.
“We can work out something, short of sex.” My luck, he’d want a refund since I’d lack the appropriate enthusiasm for indiscriminate banging.
“You can’t run for forever. Zach and Slice are looking for you. The Wrights are clients.” I fished the burner phone out of my purse. “Since you didn’t shoot anyone, then you need a lawyer and he can inform you of your next step.”
Murder in Paradise (Paradise Series) Page 7