Crazy in Paradise

by Brown, Deborah

  “Hi, Miss January. What are you doing?”

  “Walking Kitty.”

  “Oh no. When she pulled her leash out of the bushes, I was relieved Kitty wasn’t attached.

  “I haven’t seen you in a while,” I smiled. “How are you?”

  “That little piece of shit told me if I ever came outside of my cottage except to leave he’d throw me out. I watched them drag his ass out of here,” she said, making wheezing noises.

  I reached out and put my arm around her. She was all bones. “Don’t worry. Nobody’s going to bother you again.”

  “You’re nice, like Lizzie.”

  Fab pulled in. “You’re not hard to find,” she said, getting out of her convertible. Shorts showed off her long tanned legs and, instead of a giant knot ball, as mine would have been after driving with the top down, her hair simply had that messy, sexed-up look.

  “I’m glad you found me, since I have a lot to tell you and I need your services again.”

  After being brought up to speed, she asked, “Did you call Zach?”

  “I haven’t talked to him today.”

  “Too bad we may never figure out who Forrest really is,” Fab said.

  I asked Fab if she could get me into Will’s cottage. “That way, I can get the record books, and anything else pertaining to The Cottages.”

  “I’m coming in with you. It’ll go faster with the two of us.”

  I was relieved. I didn’t want to go in by myself. “I’m looking for the keys and my aunt’s original records.” We walked over to Will’s cottage where Fab pulled a case out of her back pocket and removed a small tool. The door was opened as quickly as if she’d used a key.

  “I’m very impressed.” I gasped as we walked inside, “What he hell happened in here?”

  Clothes, shoes, and personal belongings were strewn all over the floor. Every piece of furniture was gone, except for a small love seat. Trash was everywhere, including food on the floor; five star accommodations for roaches and mice. Someone even relieved themselves in the middle of the kitchen.

  “I realize I didn’t know Will very well, but whenever I had any contact with him, he was always well dressed. I can’t imagine he would live this way. It’s nasty. I’m going to get a cleaning crew in here tomorrow.”

  “All this was done deliberately,” Fab said. “When I was in here the other day, the place was neat, clean, everything in order. Forrest was obviously pissed off and served up some payback. What did you ever do to either one of them?”

  “I was the biggest obstacle in their scam.”

  “Well, they left in a big hurry,” Fab observed, looking around. She pulled a gun from the waistband of her shorts and went room to room. “All clear!” she called.

  I walked after her, going into each room. “I guess whatever personal items those two didn’t want, they threw on the floor. But what the heck happened to all of the furniture? Even the kitchen appliances are gone.”

  “I wonder when they did this?” Fab asked. “The furniture was here the other day.”

  “Will never invited me in, so I have no idea. I got the impression from Dee that the real estate deal was supposed to close soon. Stripping the place suggests they had one foot out the door. Why would they slow themselves down by moving furniture? That makes no sense.”

  “Didn’t you tell me Forrest is over six feet tall, and Will several inches shorter?”

  “Yes.”

  “My guess is that Forrest came back here last night and only took his clothes. If this is all Will had, he traveled light. That Forrest left Will’s belongings behind indicates that he doesn’t expect him to get out of jail anytime soon. No need to worry about Forrest; he’s on to his next con. Since all we have is a nickname, he’ll fall under the radar until he gets arrested again. And he will; they always do.”

  I walked across the room and opened a closet door. “Ah. The record books!” I called to Fab, bending down to pick the papers up off the floor.

  “These were in the back of the desk,” Fab said, holding up a big ring of keys. “I’m sure they’re the ones you’re looking for. Each one is individually marked.”

  “Will you come with me while I open the empty cottages? The police tape is gone from Cottage Nine and I need to see what kind of shape it’s in.”

  “Stay here. I can go do that for you,” Fab offered.

  “I’m coming with you. I just don’t want to do it by myself. Honestly, I’m a little afraid of what I’ll find.”

  Every unoccupied cottage was stripped of furniture and appliances exactly like Will’s cottage. Cottage Nine had also been cleaned out and it reeked of dead body stink.

  “What am I going to do about the odor?” I asked.

  “I have a friend who runs a disaster cleanup service. If he can’t help you, he can put you in touch with someone who can.”

  I groaned as Joseph pulled an old Buick into his parking space. “I can’t believe Joseph is driving again.”

  “Who’s he?” Fab asked.

  “Joseph was Elizabeth’s first tenant. He knows everything that goes on around here, and in the neighborhood. Keeps his mouth shut as far as I can tell.”

  “Maybe he knows something about the missing furniture,” Fab suggested.

  “Joseph,” I called out. He walked over to us. “This is Fab. Did you get your license back?”

  “I’ve got it handled,” he said, busy eyeing Fab.

  “Did you happen to see Forrest last night?”

  “Sure did. He came, got his clothes, and didn’t stay long.”

  “Anyone with him?” Fab asked him.

  “A couple of big guys and a truck. He left on his own, though.”

  “What were his two big friends doing while Forrest packed his bag?” Fab questioned.

  “It was dark out, so I had a hard time seeing. I assume they were moving Will’s stuff.”

  I sighed. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “It was late, and I thought you’d be asleep,” he said defensively. “Were you going to come over here in the middle of the night and confront a couple of big guys? Besides, Forrest had left by then.”

  “I wouldn’t have confronted them by myself. I would’ve called the sheriff,” I informed him.

  Fab looked disgusted. She walked off to look around the property.

  “She’s hot,” Joseph said.

  “Her boyfriend is a pro wrestler.” That sounded nicer than telling him he was wasting his time.

  “I wrestle,” he smiled.

  I couldn’t help myself; I laughed. “Do you? Be careful I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Put in a good word for me in case they break up.”

  “Answer me this. Did you know Will and Forrest stripped all of the empty cottages of furniture and appliances?”

  “I didn’t know anything about that,” he said, refusing to make eye contact.

  “Your info doesn’t do me any good if you tell me after the fact, or not at all, especially when I’m being ripped off. Anything weird going on here, pick up the damn phone,” I told him. “Stay out of trouble.” I walked across the driveway to Fab.

  “He’s a piece of work,” Fab said, shaking her head. “I wanted to kick his scrawny ass. He knew exactly what was going on here and didn’t say a word to anyone. Someone should point out to him that playing both sides is a dangerous position to take.”

  “He thinks you’re hot,” I said, biting my lip, so I wouldn’t laugh.

  “What did you say?”

  “I told him your boyfriend is a pro wrestler, and he better be careful.”

  “That’s a good one. If he only knew that I don’t need anyone else to kick his ass. I can do it myself.”

  “What do you do when a man won’t take no for an answer?” I asked, curious for her response.

  “I pull out my gun and point it at their balls.”

  What a funny mental image. “You’re hilarious. Do you always carry a gun?”

  “Yes, I
wear it against the small of my back,” she said matter-of-factly. “I don’t go looking for trouble. In my business, I’m always prepared. You know, like a Girl Scout.”

  I had a hard time summoning up that image, unlike the gun to the balls. “I still want to go to the gun range and lunch and shopping,” I reminded her while reaching out to hug her.

  She stood there, clearly assessing me. Whatever the conclusions, her poker face gave away nothing. She hugged me back.

  Chapter 30

  On the short drive along the beach, I checked my rear-view mirror and noticed a car on my back bumper. I hate tailgaters. The driver wore a baseball cap pulled down to cover their face.

  When I swung over close to the shoulder to let the car pass, the driver rammed my back bumper. I gripped the steering wheel, eased my foot off the gas, and tried to pull off the road. The car hit me again, harder than before. Whoever it was must be drunk. Instead of slowing, I shot down the road, simultaneously hitting the emergency button on the rear view mirror.

  “911.”

  “I’m on the Overseas Highway going south, about a mile from Tarpon Cove,” I reported. “There’s a silver mid-size car behind me that has run into me twice. I think the driver must be drunk.” No sober driver would continue to hit a vehicle bigger than its own.

  I kept one eye on my mirror, as the car swerved to my left, trying to pull around me. Once again, I moved closer to the shoulder to let him by.

  “What’s happening?” the operator asked.

  “He looked as though he wanted to go around me, and instead ran into my driver’s side door!” I yelled. “I’m speeding up. I’m trying to lose him and I can’t.”

  “Slow down and let him pass.”

  “I tried that, and he ran into me twice, and now a third time!”

  “Units are on the way. Try to stay calm. What’s the description of your car?”

  “I drive a black Chevy Tahoe. He hit me again!” I shouted, panicked now. “He made another attempt to go around me, and then hit the rear quarter panel on the driver side. If he keeps this up, he’ll spin me out.”

  “Weave back and forth, and if he gets close, speed up. Help is only a minute or two away.”

  “I can hear sirens.”

  “Stay calm. I’ll stay on the phone with you.”

  “Lights are flashing in the distance. The car just turned right onto Conch Street.”

  “Pull to the side of the road.”

  I eased over and rolled down the window. Two sheriff’s cars pulled up behind me and I was happy when Kevin stepped out of one.

  “Kev,” I called, hanging out of the window. “Man, I’m glad to see you.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “Someone pulled up behind me, out of nowhere, and started ramming me.”

  “Do you have a description?”

  “Whoever was driving was wearing a hat which blocked their face. I couldn’t even make out if it was a man or woman. I assumed they’d been drinking.”

  “Where’d they go?”

  “The car just turned on Conch Street.”

  The other sheriff standing next to him jumped back into his car and went in pursuit. Kevin stared at me. “Any reason why someone would want to run you off the road?”

  “Neal Cooper, but he’s dead.”

  “So we’ll take him off the list.”

  “I honestly don’t know. Do you think a case of mistaken SUV?”

  “Are you okay to drive home?”

  “I’m fine, and it’s not far. I’m happy you got the call.”

  “I’ll let you know when we find the car. It shouldn’t be hard. Based on the size difference, it’ll have considerable damage.”

  As I drove off, I had to talk myself out of not jamming my foot on the accelerator so I could get home as fast as possible. Happy to be home, I jumped out and closed the gates.

  I examined my Tahoe. The driver side panel had the most damage, and the rear had the least, despite taking several hard hits. Thank goodness for those oversized bumpers.

  After locking the door, I leaned against the wall, trying to calm my nerves. Why would someone want to run me off the road?

  Chapter 31

  I decided on an early morning swim. Stepping in, the warm pool water felt good against my skin. After swimming laps, I brought my coffee and banana muffin to sit by the pool. Looking around the yard, I realized it had been sadly neglected. I had ignored all gardening chores with the exception of watering.

  No time like the present. I went upstairs to change into capri sweat pants, tee shirt and old tennis shoes. Back outside, I stopped at the garage to pick up a bucket of gardening tools. I began with the hibiscus, dead-heading the shriveled blooms. Each plant had a story. Every summer, Elizabeth and I scoured the nurseries in search of a new breed or color. We got creative and added small flowers around the base of each tree. We continued planting even when we’d run out of practical space.

  My phone rang as I was busy weeding the overgrown pots. By the time I retrieved it, the caller had hung up. The screen said private caller so hitting redial wouldn’t work.

  I put it in my sweat pants pocket and returned to the patio. Will stepped out from behind a tree, and stood staring at me. Pure fear shot through me. “What are you doing here?” I squeaked, trying to stay calm.

  “Happy to see me?” he said with pure hate written on his face.

  I turned to run, but he grabbed me by the back of my hair and my phone fell out of my pocket. He jerked me around to face him, his fingers digging painfully into my arm. “What do you want?”

  “Plenty,” he shouted, shaking me hard. “You’re going to give me everything I want, you bitch,” he growled.

  I kicked him in the shin as hard as I could. When he yelled and stumbled, I jerked away and raced toward the house.

  “You will do what I say,” he threatened before I heard a sizzle sound. Everything went black.

  * * *

  When I opened my eyes, darkness surrounded me. I lay curled in a fetal position, my body needled with pinprick sensations. It dawned on me that I was locked in the trunk of a moving car. Trapped in such an enclosed space, I told myself to breathe shallowly, before panic set in.

  The last thing I remembered was trying to escape from Will while he yelled about wanting something. I didn’t remember him putting me in the trunk. Why was he doing this? The car made a sharp turn onto a bumpy road, throwing me abruptly from side to side.

  The car jerked to a stop, and I hit my head. The engine cut off, a door slammed, and the trunk opened. Will stood over me.

  “Oh good, you’re awake,” he laughed, sounding deranged.

  His eyes were black pin dots, looking like a rodent on crack. “I’ll give you whatever you want, just let me go.”

  “Shut up.” He grabbed my arms, and dragged me out of the trunk, dumping me on the ground.

  Tall grass grew out of murky water, and it was eerily quiet except for the loud chirping of the cicadas. Thousands of mosquitoes were swarming, a clear sign of mating season. We’d come in via a single lane of dirt and rock through thick overgrowth. There was no doubt we were in the Everglades.

  “This isn’t your aunt’s place, but you’re getting better than you deserve,” Will said.

  “Where are we?” I asked. We stood in front of a run down, rusty singlewide, on the verge of falling apart.

  “Welcome home,” Will laughed. “Stop asking questions.” He grabbed my arm, pushed me up the stairs, and onto the rotted porch. “Get in.”

  I had no intention of going inside. I wrestled away, jumped off the steps and picked myself up. Then once again, I fell, then felt nothing.

  * * *

  I was lying on a dirty mattress; the room was dark and smelled like dirt and mold. A tiny sliver of sunlight shone through a hole in the sheet covering the window. When I tried to sit up, I was disoriented and the pinpricking sweating sensation returned. My stomach was rolling and churning and it tool all of my conc
entration to not throw up..

  How would I escape? Even if I managed to get outside, finding my way out of the Everglades would be next to impossible. I didn’t want to have to choose between Will killing me, or being eaten by an alligator.

  Will kicked opened the bedroom door. “Don’t you just love a stun gun?”

  “I feel sick,” I whispered, head down. “Why are you doing this?” I asked.

  He pulled it from his pocket and stroked it as though it were a lover. “Makes a person do what you want them to do.” His smile was evil.

  I felt weak all over. “I’m going to throw up.”

  He kicked a filthy trashcan, complete with dead palmetto bugs in the bottom, toward the bed. I threw up several times before he jerked me to my feet. I swayed unsteadily my body scrambled from the gun. Live palmetto bugs, Florida’s version of the cockroach – plus they could fly – scurried into the corners and I screamed.

  He slapped me hard. “Shut up. Nobody can hear you anyway.” His face full of rage, he pushed me back on the bed.

  Fear – gut wrenching, cold fear – went quaking through me. Getting out of the Everglades would be impossible unless I had help. I was under the control of a lunatic.

  “Get off the bed.” He grabbed me, dragging me out to the living room, and threw me on the couch.

  “If you make another attempt to run off, I’ll shoot your foot off,” he threatened with the real thing. He pulled a handgun from his waistband.

  “I won’t try to get away,” I cried, holding my cheek while tears rolled down my face.

  He grabbed me by my hair and shook me back and forth. “This is all your fault,” he screamed. He slapped me a couple of more times with his open hand, and then hit me with his fist. I rolled away and curled up into a ball.

  “Stop!” I cried. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”

  He put his face to mine, nose-to-nose. “You bet you will,” he snarled. “You’ll do exactly what I tell you to do. When I say jump you’d better start jumping. Got it?”

  I blew my nose in my shirt.

  “How’d you figure out my real name, and turn me into the cops?” he yelled.