Greed in Paradise (Paradise Series)

by Deborah Brown

  “And here you are with a bad girl.” She elbowed me. “There were no bad girls in my all-girl Catholic school. You either behaved or suffered the painful wrath of the nuns and their steel rulers. Did any of your classmates become real criminals?”

  “All of them eventually turned into upstanding citizens with the exception of one, Barlass, and I don’t know what happened to him. One day he didn’t show up to school, so I asked around and found out his parents sent him to military school, which broke my heart since I’d had a huge crush.”

  The seats started to fill up. More than a few guests showed up who could be labeled riffraff, which surprised me due to Ivers’ total lack of disdain for them. Free food couldn’t have been the motive; that would be served after the service and attendance wasn’t a requirement. Fab and I had picked up platters of sandwiches at The Bakery Café. We wouldn’t lie and say they were homemade, but we wouldn’t correct anyone who wanted to think so.

  Fab jerked on my arm. “Scooch down in your seat and maybe he won’t see us.”

  Harder boarded the bus and stood by the driver’s seat. He was Fab’s least favorite detective. Today, he’d left his tight-ass look at home. This was one of the few times I’d seen him do normal—he’d be perfectly at home in a beach bar with his tropical shirt and shorts. All he needed was a drink in his hand. I knew he and Tolbert were friends, but had no idea he even knew Ivers.

  The bus filled up quickly. I waved and motioned Harder to come and sit in the back with us. Tolbert stood in the front and welcomed everyone. Once full, he closed the bus doors and took the driver’s seat.

  Fab hissed, “I hate you.”

  I jerked her sleeve. “You put on your party manners,” I hissed back, “or I’ll tell Didier you embarrassed me after I begged you not to.” I dabbed at my dry eye.

  “He’d never believe you over me.”

  “Only if you lied to him.” I wanted to laugh because I had her now and she’d never do that.

  “Are you here to arrest anyone?” I asked when Harder sat down next to me. We had room for one more person, so I gave Fab a shove with my hips.

  He shot a dog-smile at Fab. “My favorite criminal, and her sidekick. When this is over I have a few questions for you. I’d ask her”—he indicated Fab—“but she lies all the time.”

  “You two need to kiss and make up or something. I bet if you ask her nicely, she might cooperate with you once in a while,” I said.

  Fab crossed her arms and looked out the open window, as a cool breeze blew down the aisle.

  “Did you know Gus?” I leaned into Harder so that he could hear me. “Or did you wake up this morning and say, ‘I think I’ll go to the memorial of someone I don’t know.’”

  His eyes narrowed and he ignored the question. “Have you seen Violet Ivers?”

  I shook my head and wondered about his putting in an appearance. We rode along in silence until we pulled into Long Key Park, where everyone filed off and filled the picnic tables. Tolbert stood in the middle, holding up his hands, stopping all conversation. He looked at everyone and smiled. “We are gathered here today to remember and celebrate the life of Gus Ivers. It will be a short service, then we’ll go around the table and everyone can express their thoughts.” He pointed to a plumpish woman. “You’re up, Polly.”

  Polly, middle-aged with long black hair, had been sitting in the front. She stood, clasping her hands, and belted out Amazing Grace. She had a set of pipes and clearly enjoyed her music. She followed with another song I didn’t recognize but the woman could sing.

  Now Tolbert’s turn, he got up and started his eulogy. From the corner of my eye, I saw Harder retrieve a small note pad from his shirt pocket and jot down notes. I shifted closer so I could see and he poked me in the arm. I gave him a dirty look, leaned over farther, and noticed he’d written down names of people, or descriptions when he didn’t know the person.

  He flipped the page and wrote, You’re nosey.

  I counted the names on the page and matched them to the person and seat. I pulled on his pen taking it from him and wrote names next to a few of the descriptions. Between the two of us we ID’d everyone. I supplied all the names of the lesser-known criminals. The mourners fell into two categories: well-known pillars of the community and the general riffraff. I’d say it ran 50/50.

  One after the other, each person stood and gave us a glimpse into the life of the man. We found out he shot one guy in the butt for trespassing, then drug him to the hospital and paid the bill. He cheated at poker when he thought no one was looking. His favorite watering hole turned out to be The Croc, where locals hung out and discreet sex acts were performed right at the bar. He gave generously to charity and no one had an unkind word to say. He didn’t loan or give money to fools which he’d tell you to your face, but he’d buy you a meal.

  Not everyone spoke, and I planned to be in that group until Fab almost nudged me off the bench. I stood briefly and said, “Gus and I met through mutual business interests and I enjoyed our friendship.” It sounded lame, but the truth was I hadn’t known him long and we only had the car wash in common. It had pleased me that he never complained, probably because it made more of a profit than when he had full control. It would make more money than automated if I could find two new girls to wash cars half naked.

  To my shock, Fab stood up. “I only knew Gus Ivers a short amount of time but I liked him. We got one another. He had a great dry sense of humor and was an outrageous flirt.”

  I glared at Harder, daring him to get up and say something, but he just glared back and stayed seated. When everyone who wanted to had spoken, Polly stood and sang Time to Say Good-bye.

  On the drive back to the farm everyone sat quietly at first, but when the first person broke the silence everyone started talking at once, and then the return trip seemed to go faster. The three of us stayed seated as everyone piled off the bus and over to the house. Fab stood and pushed by me. “You can fill me in later,” she said, and started up the aisle.

  Harder’s jaw clenched. He wanted to talk to Fab and she was doing her usual cut and run on him, only the threat of jail had gotten her to stick around in the past.

  “I don’t mind that you leave Fab,” I said sweetly, “but I won’t share one word of information with you.”

  From the look on her face, I think she seriously entertained shooting me. I ignored her and turned to Harder. “You have questions for me?”

  “What do you know about Violet Ivers?” he asked.

  “Never met her before the reading of the will. She pitched a fit when she found out her father left bequests to other people. Of course, your friend, Tucker, is contesting.” I noticed Fab hadn’t left, sitting about three rows up. “I do know she’s trying to sell off his gun collection.”

  “Have you been to her house, invited or otherwise?” he asked.

  “No to either. But if you continue down this road, I’ll need to consult my attorney.”

  “So that means you’ve been to Gus’s house.” He fixed me with his sneaky smile. “You’ve got Creole immunity; you’d have to kill someone to trump that. I’m not so worried he’d kick the crap out of me, which he’d do, I’m more worried that he’d leave the department and he’s the best detective I’ve ever had, so if you keep it at the misdemeanor level I can overlook it.”

  He stood and fished his phone out of his pocket, scrolling the screen. “Do you know this guy?”

  “Nice mug shot. He seems pretty proud to be getting his picture taken, strung out, hair sticking on end.” I took his phone and showed Fab. “Gary Greene is his name. Flopping right now at Gus Ivers’ house.”

  “Now isn’t that an interesting piece of news. I’d like to talk to him, ask a few questions. He seems to have disappeared.”

  Fab snorted. “Whatever happened, we had nothing to do with it.”

  “The immunity you spoke of, does it extend to my friend here?” I asked Harder. When I could see that he salivated over the thought of arresting Fa
b, I added, “I’m sure the Creole deal you spoke of would include her.”

  “I feel sorry for Creole. You’re going to drive him crazy.” The corners of his mouth flickered up. “Agreed, her too,” he said and pointed.

  “We stopped by Ivers’ place to check on the house, and we ran into Gary who was making himself at home in one of the bedrooms. He kept mumbling about a ‘she,’ and I assumed he was talking about Violet, since it’s her house now.”

  “So you know him then.” Harder mulled that over.

  Fab, exasperated, said, “Kicking the crap out of him doesn’t mean we know him.”

  “He pulled a gun but wasn’t going to be satisfied with just shooting us, he had big plans to cut us up and dump our bodies. Mentioned that ‘she’ wouldn’t be happy if he let us live,” I said.

  “You’re alive and now he’s nowhere to be found, so how did your little visit end?” he asked.

  “Fab kicked the gun out of his hand, I hit him over the head, we tied him up, and left.”

  “You still have his gun?” Harder asked.

  I turned to Fab. “Do we?”

  “You can have it,” she fumed.

  “And since we’re being so cooperative, I see no reason to mention any of this to Creole. I’m not interested in one of his lectures where he growls through the whole thing.”

  Harder threw his head back and laughed. “I’m familiar with that voice.”

  “What did the coroner deem to be Ivers’ cause of death?” I asked.

  “Acute liver failure.”

  “That’s odd. Ivers had recently gotten a clean bill of health from his doctor. You’d think a failing liver would get the attention of even a crappy doctor. Does Tolbert know?” Fab asked.

  Harder nodded that he’d told Tolbert the disturbing news. “Let’s go get some food before it’s all gone.”

  Fab whispered, “Let’s eat fast and get out of here. We can come back when everyone’s gone home.”

  Chapter 27

  I slept lousy and walked into the kitchen to find Fab and Didier all tangled up enjoying their coffee, which only annoyed me. Kissing and cuddling all the damn time only happened in books, not real life. Thank goodness the only thing that stood in the way of me and my coffee was the microwave.

  “Didier, she was really mean to me yesterday.” Fab pointed her finger and sulked. She turned her face slightly and smirked at me.

  She should’ve waited for this nonsense until I drank my entire cup of coffee. “You want to see mean?” I exploded, coming around the island.

  Didier stepped between us and held each of us by the arm. “As delightful as it would be to see the two of you roll around on the floor, it will not happen.”

  I jerked my arm away and yelled at Fab, “I can’t believe you!”

  She smiled at me and flipped her hair.

  Just you wait, I silently mouthed to her. I gave Fab a phony smile and picked up my phone. “Saying something nice to me would motivate me to help make your legal problem go away.”

  Fab glared. “Okay, fine. Thanks or something.”

  Didier turned her face to his and frowned, which made me happy. “I’ll tell you later,” she told him. “It’s a ticket and all her fault.”

  I called Cruz’s office. Susie, his personal pit bull, answered the phone. She had been frosty to me ever since I cornered her boss at the courthouse without her permission. I had violated protocol; everything went through her first and then she decided if it was deemed worthy of Cruz’s attention.

  “Hi, Susie, this is Madison Westin. I have a legal problem to discuss with your boss.” I hit the speaker button and put a finger to my lips.

  “Don’t you always,” Susie mumbled. “Mr. Campion is not in. Give me the basics, so he’ll have the information when he calls you back.”

  “Fab and I got a ticket for trespassing and we need a lawyer for our upcoming court date.”

  Dead silence. I assumed she hung up on me.

  “You’re calling one of the best criminal lawyers in this state for a trespassing ticket?” Her voice rose with each word. “Mr. Campion wouldn’t let me bill you enough for wasting his time like that.”

  “Are you suggesting that I find another attorney?”

  “I’m suggesting that you show up in court and handle it yourself. It’s trespassing,” Susie enunciated. “Worst case: a fine. My guess is you’re guilty.”

  “It’s not that simple,” I started.

  “It never is with you.”

  “Tell Mr. Campion that I’m looking forward to his aunt and uncle’s return visit and if he has any additional requests, I’m sure he’ll have you call me.” If she didn’t hate me before, she did now with my subtle attempt at blackmail.

  “I’ll let him know you called.” Susie hung up on me.

  “I’m surprised she didn’t bang the receiver on the desk before she hung up. You can do that with business phones,” Fab said.

  “I’m calling the owners of the house and getting a notarized statement that we weren’t trespassing. Mac has tentatively agreed to manage their two properties, just waiting to hear back.”

  “What’s wrong with current management? They must have some as they live in one of those states that never see sunshine. How much sense does it make to own houses in Florida and live in below-zero weather?” Fab asked.

  “Current management has no customer service. They’re retiring in a couple of years and then we’ll be neighbors.” I wiggled my fingers. “Where are my keys?”

  “Where are you going?” Fab tossed them to me.

  “I have plans.” I smiled and banged the front door closed before she could ask any more questions.

  * * *

  I zipped into the space in front of The Cottages’ office. So I didn’t have plans, but lovey-dovey got on my nerves.

  Mac opened the door, looking pale. “We need to talk before the sheriff gets here,” she said, and motioned me inside.

  “You feel okay?” I shook my head. “What now? Let’s sit out by the pool.”

  “Well, uh… you might want to sit down. I know I do.” Mac pulled on a full skirt, covering up hot pink bicycle shorts, and threw herself back in her chair, propping her feet on one another. “You want to steer clear of the pool. At least until they haul the dead chick out. Called you and it went to voicemail. My next call was to the sheriff. I got to work at the crack again this morning. I’m going home early and drink myself into a stupor.”

  I started to sit and changed my mind. “What do you mean, dead?”

  “Hell if I know,” she screeched. “I thought she’d passed out, beach towel over her head. I yelled at her to wake the hell up, and didn’t get a twitch. I stomped over to kick the chaise, the towel dropped, didn’t cover her entire face, and noticed she’d turned this weird bluish color and one eye looked half open. I screamed and ran back inside the office, calling Shirl; she told me what to do.”

  I paced back and forth in front of the window, my stomach churning, now happy I hadn’t eaten breakfast. “Do we know her?”

  “Never saw her before.” Mac twisted her skirt in her hands.

  “I’d better call Cruz. A dead body should get me to the head of the line.” It surprised me when someone other than Susie answered, that had never happened before. I explained the problem and Cruz picked up immediately.

  “Did you shoot this one?”

  I relayed verbatim everything Mac told me. “Two sheriff cars just pulled into the driveway. What do we say?”

  “Stick to the usual yes and no answers. If you get cuffed, call back.” He hung up.

  “Let’s move this meeting to the barbeque area so that we can see what’s going on,” I said.

  Mac started, “You need to send Spoon over here and have him tell Kathy and Ron it’s moving time, and the sooner the better.”

  The first thing I noticed, that once again the beach chairs were missing. I knew better, which is why I only sprung for the cheap ones. Everyone in the neighborhood ha
d a hard time hanging on to chairs sitting outside unless they were broken down. Recently, I’d found an old round wooden patio table at Junker’s, a place I discovered while hiding out one night. The table was covered in chipped blue paint and now I’m currently on the hunt for some old Adirondack chairs, and the entire set would be chained down. Thank goodness I hadn’t moved the old cement benches or we’d be sitting on the ground.

  “Good idea. Without some major intimidation, I think they’re here for the long run.”

  “Yesterday, I wasn’t here long before Kathy pranced out carrying a trash bag in her bikini and some maid apron like you’d see as part of a Halloween costume. I’d already scoped out the pool area and found it to be littered with beer bottles, over-flowing ashtrays, and there were signs of crack use—a glass pipe, which I saw her shove in her pocket. In a separate bag she collected the copper Brillo, stems, lighters, you get the picture.”

  “It’s clear to me that she’s more than a partier,” I said. “They have expensive habits and it takes money to do this every night. The Stones have to be dealing. Makes sense with all the late-night traffic.” I shook my head. “I’ll call Spoon. Maybe we should chain the pool gate at night until they move. All I need is for Sheriff Johnson to be the one to get the call to come out and investigate. He’s threatened more than once, since that new law, to close down The Cottages.”

  Kevin explained it to me that if you, as a landlord, can’t control your tenants from committing felonies, then the city would take you to court to wrest control of said property.

  “Just thought you’d like to know Miss January’s got a new drunk friend. This one’s more her age, or at least the age she looks. They like to get on the Trolley and get off at random places, sit and drink vodka out of a brown bag, then forget how to get home.”

  Totally disgusted, I couldn’t control myself and laughed. “So how did they get home?”

  “Kevin saw them hanging out in a planter and gave them a ride. He said Miss January started crying, thought she was being arrested again. The other woman forgot where she lived and he brought them back here to sleep it off.” Kevin’s an all-around good guy and deserves a better partner than Johnson, who would’ve taken them to the drunk tank.