Fab and I exchanged looks of surprise, both wondering “what the heck…” and why hadn’t we heard about the dead bodies before.
“Are they linked?” I asked.
We waited in silence for Mac’s phone to ping again with the answer. It didn’t take long.
“Law enforcement is tight-lipped on their working theory. As of now, the men aren’t linked, the crime scenes differ, and they’re looking hard at one man’s business associates,” Mac read.
Fab held up my phone. “We’re free to go.” She got up and pulled me to my feet.
“I want tacos,” I said and looped my arm in Fab’s.
“I want a martini, two olives,” Fab said.
We waved to Mac.
Chapter 3
Fab whizzed around the corner in my black Hummer. “You have a house full,” she said, maneuvering the SUV into the driveway next to her latest ride, a black Porsche 911. Her previous car, a Mercedes, had been returned under the agreement she had with her client, Brick Famosa, who owned a luxury car lot. They had a secret deal that included fancy sports cars. Not wanting to be indebted to Brick in any way, I’d pressed for a good deal on my SUV instead.
“Neanderthal is here.” Fab smirked and tossed a glance at the oversized pickup truck parked at the curb, her boyfriend’s gleaming Mercedes behind it.
“Your calling my boyfriend names is old already. Stop it.” I climbed out, slammed the door, and stomped to the front door of the house that I’d also inherited from my Aunt Elizabeth. The Key West-style two-story white house sat on a street off the main highway in Tarpon Cove, the first town at the top of the Keys off the Overseas highway.
I held the door open for Fab, tossed my bag on the bench in the entry, and sent my flip-flops in a skid across the floor. The living room was unoccupied, but the French doors to the patio stood open.
I started towards the stairs to my bedroom. “I’m not going out there. I need a nap.”
Fab jerked me off the bottom step by my shirt. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
“They’re going to ask what we’ve been doing.” I rubbed my temples. “I forgot to call, and I know you didn’t because you never do. I can’t bear a lecture right now about how we broke yet another promise to call when things go awry.”
Fab pulled me by my arm. “We’ll lie.”
“That’s a great idea.” My words dripped with sarcasm.
Fab propelled me out the door. “We’re home,” she announced, dropping my arm and running towards her supermodel boyfriend, Didier—just the one name.
He stood in time to catch her as she propelled herself into his arms. They looked like a Hollywood “it” couple. He was over six feet of sexiness; she fit perfectly in the crook of his arm. They were both blue-eyed, her brown hair long and hanging almost to her waist, his black hair a rumpled mess.
When I inherited the house, I turned the backyard into an outdoor entertaining space with a small kitchen area, an oblong table with seating for twelve, and comfortable cushioned furniture that overlooked the pool.
“What have you two been up to?” Creole held out his arms. Luc Baptiste, AKA Creole, was an undercover detective with Miami’s finest. He used the name “Creole” when dealing with the criminal element of society, and there were only a handful of people who knew it wasn’t his real name.
Both men were in running shorts and sand-covered shoes; they’d been for one of their infamously long runs on the beach.
I wrapped my arms around his bare torso and looked up. “Breakfast, shopping, three pairs of shoes.” A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest, and he planted a soft kiss on the side of my head. I snuggled deeper into his embrace; his lips looked firm but so kissable.
Creole pushed me back, his cobalt blue eyes tinged with amusement. His bold gaze moved down my body and back to my face again. Little sparks danced like flashes of light across his eyes. “That isn’t the truth.”
“I know, but it sounds really good. It’s the way I wish the day had gone.” I pressed closer, and his arms tightened.
“What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?” Didier asked Fab in his stern voice.
Fab beamed up at him, running her finger across his chest. “You need a shower.” She entwined her fingers with his and headed toward the house. They quietly made their getaway.
“What time are we having dinner?” Mother called. She was standing in the patio doors, looking perfectly put together in black knee-length shorts and a black silk button-down shirt. Now that she had a younger boyfriend, her perfectly coiffed blond hairstyle was gone, replaced by a sexier windblown look.
I groaned and whispered, “Did I forget again?”
Creole laughed in my ear. “She called, irate that she couldn’t get ahold of you, and then announced that she’d invited the usuals for dinner. The upside: news of the dead guy has swept through your family, so no need to repeat the shopping story.”
“We can use the shower excuse too.” I ran my eyes over him from head to toe, a hopeful look on my face.
Creole stared in amusement. “As long as you promise that you won’t attempt to sneak out the door with me.”
“You okay?” Mother came up behind us, putting her arms around me.
“Not a scratch.” I kissed her cheek. “If your morbid curiosity gets the better of you, Fab has pictures. Creole smells bad,” I added, as he leaned over and kissed Mother’s cheek. “I’m going to make sure he gets clean.” I winked.
“Hurry back and set the table. That way, you won’t look at it and sigh, making me feel bad that I don’t have your attention to detail.”
I loved setting the table. I collected odds and ends of dishes, as many seashell ones as I could find, from flea markets and second-hand stores. I used to enjoy candles until my cat swiped his tail through the flame. I’d had visions of the house catching fire and now used battery-operated light strings.
“That’s nonsense. You’re the detailed one, and I get it from you. Look at you; you always look amazing.” I pointed to the black-and-tan leather slides that graced her feet. “My shoes look good on you.”
Mother made a noise that sounded like a snort she’d tried to recapture. “They’re mine,” she said. “You borrowed and didn’t return them, so I borrowed them back.”
The clouds had lightened to a light grey but were still ominous. “We may have to eat inside. It’s been threatening rain all day.”
“Nonsense, that storm is ripping its way up the middle of the Gulf, and we’re getting treated to the outer edges.” Mother licked her finger, holding it out as if to predict the weather that way.
The three of us moved into the living room, a large open space that encompassed the kitchen and a large island that easily sat six, a couple more if we angled the stools just right. I’d eliminated the dining room since we mostly ate outside on the patio.
“What’s for dessert?” I asked.
“Your brother is bringing it.” Mother went into the kitchen and started unpacking the shopping bags that sat on the counter.
I gave Creole a quick shove. “Hurry, before she brings up babies.”
“I heard that,” Mother yelled after us.
* * *
When Creole and I came downstairs hand in hand, the room was filled with family. I waved to my brother, Brad, and at that moment, the doorbell rang.
Brad opened the door and shot me a “behave” look as Kevin crossed the threshold, a stupid smile on his face. He’d changed into his surfer attire: wrinkled shorts and a tropical shirt.
I leaned into Creole and said tightly, “What’s he doing here? Pitch his ass to the curb.”
“Your mother invited him.” Creole’s lips crinkled up, but he knew better than to laugh.
“Fine,” I seethed. Kevin had a lot of nerve, showing up for a free meal after I asked him to move out. “Hey, Kevin,” I called, “long time no see. Where’s your stripper girlfriend?”
Kevin glared at me.
“I knew she
was a stripper,” Liam said, stepping around the corner from the kitchen and clapping. “Besides having giant—” He held his hands out like platters. “—her name is Boots.”
“Liam,” Julie hissed.
Julie was Kevin's sister and my brother's girlfriend. Standing alongside Kevin and Liam, her teenaged son, you could pick them out of a lineup as related; tanned, with sun-bleached hair, the three of them looked like they’d just strolled in off the beach.
“Margarita anyone?” Fab headed my way with one in her hand, handed me the salt-rimmed glass, and mouthed, “Try to be nice.”
“Don’t go anywhere.” I pulled on her hand. “I’ll be needing a refill.” I turned to Kevin. “Dead guy have a name?”
“Where?” Julie jumped, looking around.
“Denton Newlin. Now that you’ve got a name, does that jog your memory; you remember him now?” Kevin turned to his sister. “How many times have I told you to move out of that hellhole she calls The Cottages? You never listen, no matter how many felonies get committed there. ”
Spoon spoke up. “I knew Denton, or about him anyway. Fisherman. Lived down in Marathon. Kept to himself.”
Mother smiled at her boyfriend, Jimmy Spoon, looping her arm through his. She’d hardly dated after our father died when we were pre-teenagers. But now there was Spoon, who made her laugh and kept a smile on her face. I’d liked him right off; it had taken Brad a little longer and was still a work in progress. He’d never envisioned his mother hooking up with a reformed badass.
Kevin switched his attention to Spoon. “Know of anyone who would want to put six bullets in his back?”
“What a waste of ammo. Or a piss-poor shot.” I sucked down the last drop of my drink.
Liam laughed.
Mother clucked in a disapproving tone, wiggling her nose; her way of letting a person know to check their language.
“Is Dead Dude connected to the other dead ones?” I held my empty glass out to Fab.
“One drink is enough for you today,” Creole growled in my ear. “Kevin is family, even if he’s an ass at times—you need to learn to tolerate him. If you don’t behave, I’ll toss you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes and haul your sexy behind out of here.”
“You promise?” I gave him a hopeful look.
Having heard none of our whispered byplay, Kevin said evenly, “Details on open cases are ‘need to know,’ and you’re not on that list.”
I wiped away a non-existent tear.
“Bet you–” Fab stood, and Didier hauled her back down by his side. “–we’ll know more than you do by tomorrow.”
Mother jumped up. “Dinner’s ready. Grab a plate off the island, help yourself, and take a seat outside.”
Mother and I were both excellent cooks, and we’d both stopped cooking when we moved to South Florida. Mother favored takeout, which suited this group just fine.
Fab and I exchanged raised eyebrows. She held up her phone, motioning with her head.
I stood and bent down, cupping Creole’s chin. “Would a food fight get me hauled out of here?” I brushed his lips with a kiss.
He frowned and shook his finger at me.
“You like the idea just as much as I do.” I winked and followed Fab to a private corner on the opposite side of the pool.
No eavesdropping possible at this location, as anyone trying would be seen as they approached. Before I could question her about who’d called, however, Creole and Didier joined us.
“Listening in isn’t beneath us,” Creole said. “This way, we don’t have to fight over which of us is the last to know.” He knuckle-bumped Didier.
To my surprise, Fab’s phone rang just then; unless she was psychic, which I doubted, she must have called someone and asked them to call back. So it hadn’t just been a ruse to keep me from telling Kevin off.
Fab answered and hit the speaker button.
“Hey boss, I’ve got a pen,” Phil said.
Philippa Grey, aka Phil, was a third-year law student who bartended at Jake’s, the bar I owned on the main strip. She also sold hard-to-procure information to a select clientele and had proven herself to be reliable.
Fab was a licensed private investigator. I was officially her unofficial backup, having not worked enough hours to get a license of my own. I also excelled at planning all the details that Fab found pesky.
“Before we get started,” I said, “you’re on speakerphone – Creole and Didier are here.” When Phil didn’t object, I told her about this morning’s find. “Denton… something.”
“Newlin,” Fab and Creole said simultaneously.
“Got a tidbit from Mac,” I added. “There’ve been several unsolved murders recently—all men; no women, as far as I know. This isn’t a rush. I just want to lord it over Kevin that we know more than him.”
Phil laughed. “Kevin’s a lot of fun when he hangs up the uniform. The other night, he orchestrated a sing-along to whatever popped up on the jukebox.”
Why couldn’t I get along with him? “We just rub together in an infected, uncomfortable way. I’ll make more of an effort after he moves out of The Cottages and I don’t have to see him. Except when he gets invited to family gatherings.”
Chapter 4
I stood at the kitchen sink, the morning sun shining in the garden window, watering and shifting plants around. Part of my attention was on surveilling the driveway; I didn’t expect to find anything out of the ordinary, but it paid to check once in a while.
Jazz meowed, brushing his furry tail along my lower legs as he twined himself between my feet. I scooped up the long-haired black cat, cooing, “Hungry, old man?” I reached into the refrigerator and grabbed a can of tuna, having switched from the deli meats Auntie Fab spoiled him with. Tuna seemed to agree with his twenty-year-old system.
The front door opened and Mother came in. “Ready to go? We’ll miss out on the good stuff.”
“Who the hell gets up this early to root through junk?” Fab asked in a surly tone, coming into the kitchen from the patio.
Liam, who was right behind Fab, laughed. He’d stayed the night so Brad and Julie could sneak off for some alone time, not wanting the savvy teenager to realize they were having sex.
It made me laugh that everyone in the family was engaged in hiding the fact that they had a sex life.
I tugged on the end of Fab’s hair. “Good thing you get to stay home with Liam. Make damn sure you don’t shoot anyone.”
Liam folded his arms across his chest. “I’m going. I’ve been wanting to go to the flea market.”
“We don’t have your mom’s permission.” I hugged him, pointing at a bakery box on the counter. I felt guilty offering only a muffin to a growing teen. “It’s a big step that you got to stay here; I’m certain she’d object to a road trip. She thinks we’re unsuitable role models—flying bullets and all.”
“Nonsense.” Mother finished off her latte and threw the paper container, missing the trash. Liam retrieved it for her with a wink. “We’re all going. I’m the mother here; I’ll tell you what to do and you’ll do it, got it?” She looked at each of us.
I needed a real coffee; my mix wasn’t strong enough for this morning. We better hit the drive-through.
“As for you—” Mother fixed Fab in her sights. “—get in the car; we need you to drive and haggle. It doesn’t embarrass you to squeeze the last dime out of those vendors.”
Fab liked to whine and complain, but one thing she wouldn’t stand for was being left behind. Especially since Didier had left earlier for an appointment in Miami. Another giveaway that she wasn’t planning on sitting at home by herself was that she was dressed in black skinny jeans. Plus, I’d seen her drop her purse on the couch.
“We’ll take my SUV—more room,” I said as we headed across the driveway.
Fab squealed out of the driveway, and her lips curled up in satisfaction when Mother smacked her in the back of the head. “Slow down or I’ll drive.”
After a detour th
rough our favorite drive-thru coffee place, Fab sped up the Overseas Highway out of the Keys, making a sharp turn onto the turnpike that would take us to one of the largest flea markets in Miami.
My phone rang, which I ignored. Then it rang again. Sighing, I fished it out of the bottom of my bag, and of course, it stopped ringing. I didn’t have to wait long for it to ring again. My brother’s face smiled back at me. I thought briefly about sending it to voicemail, but instead handed it over the seat to Mother. “Here, it’s for you.”
She said she’d take the heat; time for her to step up.
“Hi,” Mother said way too cheerfully, hitting the speaker button.
Fab and I had trained her well—there wasn’t anyone in the family who didn’t like to listen in on phone calls.
“Where’s Liam?” Brad asked in exasperation.
“Right here,” Liam answered.
“Where are you? How soon before you get back?”
Mother frowned at me, shaking her finger, for forcing her to deal with Brad and Julie. “We’re almost at the flea market and will be back this afternoon.”
Brad covered the phone, relaying the information; he kept rubbing his hand across the mouthpiece, creating static and making it hard to eavesdrop.
Mother cut in before he could say anything. “You don’t have a problem with my spending the day with Liam, do you?” she asked, a tinge of hurt in her voice.
Score one for Mother. Go on the offensive.
“No, no, it’s fine,” Brad said, clearly lying. “Text me, and we’ll pick him up at Madison’s later. In the future, let me know ahead of time so we don’t worry.”
Mother ended the call on a phony cheerful note and handed me the phone. “Okay everyone, we’re on our best behavior so we don’t get our Liam privileges suspended.”
“Thanks.” Liam leaned sideways and kissed her cheek.
Fab careened into the parking lot, sliding into the line to pay behind about twenty-five other cars. There was lots of good parking left; only the hardcore showed up this early.
“Fab’s the go to girl. If we get separated and you need her services, text. She knows better than to dawdle. Right?” I smirked at her in the rearview mirror.
Executed in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 9) Page 2