Murder in Paradise (Paradise Series)

by Deborah Brown

  “Finally, I get partner appreciation.”

  Fab pointed. “Keep your eyes on the road. We need that book. Now what?”

  “Where’s Mango’s old place? You said she’s working tonight, we’ll do a drive by, check it out and see if she moved.”

  Fab picked her phone off the console. “I’m calling Gunz.”

  Good luck with that, he rarely answered his phone.

  “Call me,” Fab growled into the phone.

  I pulled to the side of the road, not saying one word to Fab. I got out and walked around to the passenger side. She’d already climbed into the driver’s seat. She put her hands together in prayer and whispered, “Thank you.”

  Fab’s phone rang. “That address in South Beach was a waste of your money. Give me the other address.”

  I input the new one into the GPS. Neither of us had a clue where we were going.

  CHAPTER 23

  “Bitsy and I are going to have a chat. She should be more selective in who she screws,” Fab huffed. “Brick won’t be able to ignore her side job if it’s pushed in his face.”

  “I’ll go with you and remind you not to shoot her.”

  “I’m only going to scare the hell out of her and let her know she owes me.”

  As we traversed our way across town the areas got worse until we ended up in The Heights—a designated historical neighborhood. The city poured money into the area, sending investors flocking to purchase and renovate old homes and open new businesses. The Heights was one of those areas that changed street by street. Mango’s street had seen partial renovation and her building had recently undergone a facelift. A six-unit townhouse complex was under construction next door. It faced five worn-down, dilapidated homes on the other side of the street, two with Keep Out signs. People milled around in front of the houses, visible by their lit cigarettes.

  “I’m not getting out, and if you do you’re on your own,” I said. “We’ve already attracted a ton of attention.” Being in an SUV with dark tinted windows made us look like drug dealers. “I’ll bet you there’s no fire alarm in that building.” Fab drove slowly, checking over every structure on the street, now circling the block.

  Red lights and a siren blaring rolled up behind us. “You want to see if I can outrun them?” Fab asked.

  “Just pull over,” I hissed. “I’m not in the mood for a chase. Did you know that’s mandatory jail time?”

  Fab didn’t immediately pull over, which agitated me. Finally, after turning another corner, she pulled into the parking lot of a closed pawnshop. The liquor store’s sign still flashed open, and two people stopped to gawk.

  “Roll your window down,” I motioned.

  “You sound like your mother,” Fab said.

  “You just keep Mother in mind. If you get us both arrested, you’ll be the one to tell her you were the smartass.”

  The officer shined his flashlight in the window and throughout the interior. “License and registration.”

  Fab already had her license in hand. I got the registration from the glove box.

  “You don’t live around here.” He looked at Fab’s license. “Says here the SUV is registered to a dealer. Do you have paperwork that shows you have the right to drive this car?”

  I leaned across Fab. “Famosa Motors rented this to me because my other SUV got wrecked.”

  “I’ll need to see the rental contract.” He flashed his light in my face.

  Damn.

  “I work for Mr. Famosa and we have an informal arrangement.”

  “I’ll bet,” he snickered. “Don’t go anywhere.” He walked to the back of the Hummer, exchanged words with his partner, and then got in the patrol car.

  “Get your concealed permit out just in case we’re ordered out, hands up. We should’ve already disclosed; I’d like to avoid a gravel sandwich if it can be avoided.” I hiked my skirt up and turned in my seat, the officer sat talking on his phone. “This is a sign telling us to go home,” I told Fab. “It’s best to conduct business in this neighborhood in the early morning hours. We’ll come back when everyone’s sleeping off the alcohol/drug induced state from the night before.”

  Fab checked her rearview mirror. “What’s he doing?”

  “Still on the phone, his sidekick’s leaning in through the passenger window. Good news is that neither of them has a gun pointed at us. By this time they’ve found out we’re not wanted anywhere.”

  “That may change when they see my recent mug shot for murder.”

  “Talk to Cruz and see if it can be erased from your record. Doesn’t seem right or fair, you get wrongly arrested and it follows you around forever.”

  Fab pulled her hair into a ponytail. “I don’t expect fair, so I’m never disappointed.”

  “Cop dude just opened his door.” I looked at the clock on the dash. “What was he doing for fifteen minutes?”

  The officer handed Fab’s ID back through the window. “What are you doing in this neighborhood?”

  “Took a wrong turn or two,” Fab said.

  The officer looked at me. “The tint on the windows is illegal. Get it fixed or get yourself another rental. I’m letting you off with a warning, but next time I’ll ticket you and you’ll be forced to have it removed.

  “Where are you headed? I’ll give you directions,” the officer said to Fab. “This isn’t a neighborhood for two women at night.”

  Fab started the engine. “Thank you, we’re headed home.” She raised the window.

  “You’re so rude,” I sighed. “Let’s get out of here before he changes his mind about a ticket.”

  Fab picked up her phone. “New plan. You need to make sure Mango’s not in her apartment at daylight.” She hit the speaker button.

  Gunz’s voice boomed through the phone. “I’m here at the club. She gets off at 3:00 a.m. I told her I’m ready to negotiate. Since it’s been awhile for the both of us, I can get her over to my place for some bear lovin’. You’ve got a couple of hours and you’d better be the hell out of there.”

  “Call me when Mango leaves your place and call if you don’t score.” Fab hung up.

  “Hours of bear lovin’? I want to wash my ears out.”

  “Gunz is a kinky bastard. He likes it hard and rough. His women are willing and one step short of certifiable. We had a meeting one day and he didn’t show, so I went to his place. His big naked body, handcuffed to the bed, bruises all over him. Apparently his latest girlfriend took a riding crop to him when she found out he’d been cheating. I uncuffed him. He sighed like a girl, smiled, and said he’d be sending her flowers.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I laughed. “I thought he lived out in one of those middle-of-nowhere Keys with his sisters?”

  “That’s the family home; comes and goes as he pleases. His sex palace is in Coconut Grove. He’s got a really big—you know—just in case you wanted to know.”

  I clinched my eyes closed, forbidding the image. “I’ll get you back.”

  “You’re no fun.”

  * * *

  We arrived back at Mango’s just before daylight, having spent the night in the parking lot of Famosa Motors. The streets deserted, Fab parked illegally in front of the ongoing townhome construction.

  “Another good idea of yours,” Fab said.

  “I’m well-acquainted with the habits of riff-raff. This early in the morning they’re either passed out or strung out in front of the television watching cartoons and jumping with paranoia.”

  “If you were hiding what looks like an address book where would you put it?” Fab asked.

  “I’d hide it in plain sight. Stuff it in a vase sitting on a cabinet, inside of an appliance I don’t use. Not taped to the underside of the desk or in my underwear drawer.”

  Fab whipped out her lock pick and pushed open the door.

  “Show off,” I whispered. “This is too easy.” I pulled my Glock from my back holster, the door closed quietly. We quickly checked out the three rooms for any surprises and
then split up.

  Fab ransacked the large open space, living room, dining room, kitchen combination, searching like a cop under and behind all the furniture, removing the drawers of the end tables, and behind the pictures.

  I headed straight for her bedroom, looking around to see if a possible hiding place stood out. Where would I hide the book? As obvious as the mattress is, I picked up each side for a quick look, running my hands underneath. Nothing. She had several display racks of costume jewelry and a coat rack used for purses; I went through every one of them. The small walk-in closet was typical of an older apartment building. I went through every piece of clothing, thinking possibly one had a pocket large enough for the book. A shelf display held several boxes too small to hold a book, and various knick-knacks. I almost missed the black quilted Chanel clutch on the top shelf next to a framed charcoal drawing of a young girl.

  Hiding something valuable on a display would be what I’d do. I grabbed a hanger off the bed, stood on my tiptoes, and hooked the clutch chain, catching it in my hands. I admired the purse, knowing it to be vintage. I unsnapped it and gasped, withdrawing a dog-eared black leather address book. I flipped through the pages. First names only, each one had its own page, filled with a series of numbers and abbreviations which meant nothing to me.

  “You found it,” Fab shrieked from the doorway.

  I handed the book to her. “Does this mean Gunz has to be nice to me?”

  “Gunz breaks your gray-line rule; his dealings are criminal in nature.” The black book disappeared inside the waistband of her jeans.

  “What we’re doing right now could get us charged with a felony, so let’s get the hell out of here.” I got to the front door before Fab, sticking my head out to make sure the hallway was clear. “If you wake anyone up, I’ll shoot you,” I told her.

  We played push and shove on the stairwell to see who could get out the door first. Fab slammed the bar and shoved the door open; we stood on the sidewalk out of breath, laughing.

  CHAPTER 24

  I lay face down on my outstretched arms across the bar at Jake’s.

  Fab slid onto the stool next to me. “You look like crap.”

  “I’d like to toss down a shot of tequila but I’m afraid if I start drinking in the morning, I’ll like it so much I’ll do it every day.”

  Fab walked around the bar and helped herself to a cup of coffee clearly not up to her usual standards, but she didn’t complain.

  “Where the hell did you go so early?” I snapped at her.

  “I met Gunz and handed over his criminal diary in exchange for an envelope of cash.”

  I hit my head on the bar and flinched from the pain. “I wanted to go.”

  She ignored my grumpy attitude. “Can we use your boat?”

  “Not without my brother finding out. I know what you’re up to and it’s one heck of a long ride. Can you read a water map? I can’t. Don’t you have a connection where we ride over on the ferry, our names magically appearing on the list of approved guests?”

  Fab spit out her coffee and helped herself to a bottle of cold water, sliding one down the bar in my direction. “I thought we’d boat over and dock close by the Wrights.”

  “Now that there’s been a double murder, every single resident will be on the lookout. Your plan needs serious work.”

  “You pull this off and I’ll owe you,” Fab said.

  “As in an IOU?” I’d never been able to wiggle one out of Fab.

  “Don’t be gloaty. It’s unattractive.”

  “I’m going to pull this off so that neither of us ends up in jail. And you, my dear, will owe me two.” I flashed a smile that I knew she’d hate.

  Fab squinted her eyes. “What millionaire do you know living out there?”

  “I think I’ll surprise you.”

  Fab groaned, “I hate your surprises.”

  “What is your hot plan for when we arrive? Knock on the door and ask the grieving widow for a look-see around the property?”

  “I’ll have a plan before we get there.”

  “What are you hoping to accomplish?” I asked.

  “I’ve racked my brain as to what went wrong that night. Gabriel planned his jobs; he excelled as a thief. How did he end up with a bullet in the back? Gabriel’s drug of choice was the high he got from stealing priceless objects. I’ll never believe he shot Maxwell Wright.”

  “Creole could answer your questions. I’d suggest Zach, but we both know he’d tell me to stay out of it. Speak of the devil.” I nodded my head toward the door.

  Zach and Slice walked in. “Morning, ladies,” Slice said.

  “No time like the present,” I whispered to Fab.

  Zach kissed me. “You look sick.” He slid onto a stool.

  I shook my head. “Late night. Fab’s bartending.”

  Fab put soda in front of them. Slice picked up the glass from the corner of the bar and nodded to Fab.

  I put my hands on Zach’s thighs and slid forward, wrapping one leg around his waist, and leaned in for a kiss. “How about an update on the case?”

  “There really is nothing new, I’m not blowing you off. We’re hoping someone does something stupid, boasts to a friend, or fences a painting or piece of jewelry. What was Gabriel’s connection to Maxwell?” Zach wrapped his fingers in my hair and pulled my face to his.

  “Fab told me she didn’t think Gabriel knew anyone in Florida. She swears she had no prior knowledge of the theft and was not in on the planning of the heist and I believe her.” I also added, “She didn’t know why he chose the Wright mansion.”

  “There was clearly a third person involved and I hope for your sake it doesn’t turn out that Fab is a big liar.” He kissed me again.

  Slice walked around the bar and helped himself to a bottle of water. “Fab got a call and went outside to talk. Guess she thought I’d listen in.”

  “Do either of you know what Gabriel did with his free time in Florida before he made his presence known?” I asked.

  “We’re still checking to see how he got into this country; he’s not on any flight lists or in the customs data base,” Slice said.

  Zach leaned in and whispered, “Are you done using your lips to coerce information out me?”

  I blushed. I had several more questions but kept them to myself––we’d only fight. “I’ve got a job and could use some scary muscle. Would you mind if I asked Slice?” I left out the part where I had Spoon lined up but he called with an out-of-town emergency.

  “What kind of case this time?” Zach shook his head.

  Slice rubbed his massive hands together. “I don’t care what kind of case it is, I’m in. Yours are far more entertaining than anything we get at AZL. Besides, I’ve kept track and I have a nice stack of IOUs with your name on them.”

  Not quite a whisper, but almost: “A middle-of-the-night eviction at the car wash.”

  They both stared at me for a second and burst out laughing.

  Fab returned to the bar. “What’s so funny?”

  “Asking Slice to flex his biceps and expedite the Poppins to the curb along with their grubby possessions,” I told her.

  “Is Slice getting paid in coon meat?” Fab asked.

  Both Slice and Zach shocked at the same time was a rare sight. I glared at Fab. “Slice asked for an IOU from you and I told him you’d be happy to step up anytime.”

  “Where do you find these people?” Zach slid off the barstool. He ran his hand under my shirt and up my back. “We’ll talk later about your use of under-handed tactics for information.”

  “Have a nice day, honey.” My face was beet red.

  “Try and stay out of trouble.” Zach kissed me.

  “Call me with the when and where,” Slice called over his shoulder.

  Before they hit the exit, Zach said something to Slice and they both laughed.

  I looked at Fab. “I saw Slice nudge you and give you a tasty morsel look-over.”

  “Slice has always been a good fri
end to me. He loves women. Have you noticed he’s less intense since he got rid of that ice cube of a wife?”

  “I met Jade once. I didn’t measure up to her standards. She mentioned doing the girlfriend lunch thing; frankly, I was happy I never heard from her again.”

  “Didier and I ran into Slice and Ana Sigga at the trendy El Lago in South Beach. I saw her lick his fingers, smiling and hanging on his every word.”

  “The prosecutor? She’s more high profile than Cruz. Wait until she finds out you and I are friends with her lover boy.”

  “Hey, boss.” Phil, the bartender, a leggy blonde, in a very short jean skirt that just barely hit the bottom of her butt cheeks, showing the occasional flash of black lace panties, came through the kitchen doors. She’d taken scissors to her tight Jake’s T-shirt and turned it into a crop-top. She stored her large bag behind the bar.

  “It’s all yours.” I slid off the barstool. “All the shipments for today have been unloaded and checked in. The bar is stocked.”

  Phil waved from behind the jukebox; she overrode the system, music filling the bar.

  I tossed the car keys to Fab. “I’ll tell you what I learned on the way to the car wash.” I related what Zach told me.

  “Gabriel used several aliases in France. He had money socked away so he didn’t come out of prison a poor man.”

  “What about the Beemer he was driving?” I asked.

  “Gunz ran the plates. Turns out it’s registered to a scurvy rent/buy-here lot, filled with high-end cars in a ratty neighborhood—clearly a front for something else. I stopped by for a look through their records and could’ve bypassed the alarm, but not the two Rottweilers inside.”

  “On one of your insomniac nights, you thought you’d go toss a business?” I glared. “Try walking in the front door during business hours and blackmail them. We, as in you and me, take pictures of the Beemer, trade location for info.”

  Occasionally Fab surprised me by obeying all the traffic laws; this was one of those days. “The Beemer’s still sitting in the same parking space at the Yacht Club where he parked it before we launched from their dock.”