Executed in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 9)

by Deborah Brown

  Fab took Mac’s seat behind the desk and opened the drawers, rifling through them as she went.

  “Big bust at the yellow house. They’ve lined up the all-night partiers.” Mac pointed to eight people sitting in the street, a couple of them leaning on each other. “Not sure if they’ll whip out the cuffs. So far, none of the four that rented the place have been rousted out yet, so they’re either still inside or they ran out the back. My money’s on them having run out.”

  I half-laughed. Quickly growing bored, I went to sit in a chair across from Fab. Mac was almost certainly right about the neighbors doing a runner. That was an often-used escape route, as most of the houses didn’t have fencing around them, which wouldn’t be a deterrent in any case, as most people deemed jail a sufficient incentive to scale any enclosure. I’d seen it done more than a few times at The Cottages: people scaling the back fence. Once they hit the beach, they were much more difficult to track.

  “Miss January wants to talk to you,” Mac said over her shoulder. “She just started drinking for the day, so you better hurry if you want her to be sober enough to carry on a conversation.”

  “Do I get a clue?” I asked.

  “All I heard was: ‘blah, blah, blah.’” Mac gave a good imitation of a drunk Miss January. “I gave her a couple of ‘oh, okays,’ and raced to the end of the driveway, wanting a front-row seat for the drama across the street. I hadn’t gotten far when Kevin stepped out from behind the first cottage and ordered me to go inside or he’d arrest me. I told him his threat was illegal, that this was private property. Bastard smirked and said, ‘Tell it to the judge.’”

  “If you’re done snooping through everything, want to come with me?” I asked Fab.

  “I’ll wait here. I haven’t gotten to this cupboard over here.” Fab pointed.

  I dragged myself out of my chair, not in a hurry to cross the driveway. Miss January had never asked to see me before, and I didn’t want to hear any bad news—especially not that death was imminent and, unlike all the other declarations from her doctors, they were positive this time. One of these times, they’d get it right, and I needed more time to get used to the thought. I sighed and detoured to check out the situation at the yellow house.

  I’d just made it to the end of the driveway when a deputy I didn’t recognize approached. Could work in my favor.

  “Go back inside,” he ordered.

  Pasting a pleasant look on my face, I ignored his order and said, “I’m the owner here and was wondering what was going on. I have out-of-town vacationers and would like to tell them something.”

  “We’ll be out of here soon.” His lips formed a straight line. “Tell them to use the side exit; they wouldn’t want to get arrested due to a mistaken identification.”

  Seeing no other option, I flinched first and ended the stare-down. “Thank you, uh…” For being no help at all.

  Getting no response, I turned to ferret out Miss January. I didn’t have to go far; she was sitting on her front porch, sucking down vodka straight from the bottle, Kitty on her lap. Judging by the small amount left, she was finishing off yesterday’s bottle. Today’s delivery hadn’t been made yet.

  “Hi, sweetie,” she slurred. “Have a seat.”

  Since there was only one chair, I assumed she meant the steps. “I’ll stand.” I smiled, debated whether to ask after the boyfriend, and voted for ignorance. I didn’t want to hear how they were perfect for one another because they “drank and banged.” In that order, I presumed. When she used the “B” word, I had to remind myself she wasn’t the eighty she looked but half that age. The downside to hard living, though I’m not sure she’d agree.

  Hearing footsteps behind me, I turned in time to see two twentyish males make a dash down the driveway. Before they could cut to the right and disappear, the deputy yelled, “Stop,” already hot on their trail.

  Too late, I thought.

  The deputy reappeared empty-handed. “Is there a back gate? A shortcut?” He glared angrily.

  I shook my head and kept my mouth shut. He ran back to the street, heading for the corner. The two males, besides being in good shape, had to be locals and knew that, once over the fence, they could blend in with the beachgoers. It had been a while since we had a police chase through the property. Bet Fab wished she were out here now.

  “Nice asses.” Miss January giggled, liquid dribbling down her chin.

  “You wanted to talk to me?”

  “As much as my doctors warn of doom and death…” She made a strangling noise, laughing at herself. “It will happen one day. Nothing has changed regarding my health; they still predict death any day now.” She cackled. “Will you promise to take Kitty?”

  An already dead cat!

  “Wouldn’t you like to be buried with her?”

  “Oh, no.” She frowned, looking sad. It took her a minute to regain her train of thought. “That wouldn’t be fair. I’m asking because I know you’ll take good care of her.”

  I guess that answered my question about whether Miss January knew that Kitty was dead. Apparently not.

  “Don’t worry. She’ll be well taken care of and there are plenty of people to spoil her,” I reassured her. This was another reason Mac was never allowed to quit. She’d make sure nothing happened to the deceased animal.

  “I knew I could count on you.” Miss January fumbled in her pocket, produced a cigarette, and stuffed it between her lips, flipping it around in a nervous jig. She turned both her pockets inside out. “Where the hell did my matches go?”

  I glanced down, spotting them under her chair, and said, “Let me look around.” I bent down, quickly picked them up, and shoved them into my pocket. She didn’t need to be playing with fire. “Don’t see anything.” I shrugged.

  Her cigarette fell out of her mouth, landing in her lap with the rest of the pack, but she didn’t appear to notice. “Would you like to lie down for a while?” I held my breath as I gently retrieved them for safekeeping.

  “Hold Kitty.” She thrust it at me.

  I leaned back, almost falling off the step. I had never touched it without gloves on. In one swift move, I jerked my top over my head, leaving me in a skirt and sports bra. I wrapped the shirt around Kitty, holding her away from my body, and followed Miss January into her cottage. The question of where Score was… was answered by the chainsaw snoring coming from the bedroom.

  Miss January pitched herself onto the couch, kicking her shoes up in the air. I waited for her to settle, then shoved Kitty in the only vacant space, the wide window ledge. “She can see outside,” I said lamely.

  “I knew you were the right choice.” She closed her eyes and continued to mumble to herself.

  I hooked my shirt up with the tip of my index finger from the chair where I’d tossed it, happy that it wasn’t one of my favorites. “Do you want anything before I leave?”

  Miss January shook her head and rolled over.

  Before I left, I tossed a thin blanket over her bony frame. I said, “You behave yourself,” as I left, closing the door.

  Kevin was waiting for me at the bottom of the steps. “Did you see two young men run by here?”

  “Miss January and I both saw their backsides. The two-woman consensus: nice.”

  “You wouldn’t aid in their getaway, would you?”

  I didn’t break eye contact. “This sounds like a conversation for my lawyer.” I withdrew my phone from my pocket. “He’ll want to know if I’m under arrest.”

  “You’re going to get your wish,” he grumbled. “I’m moving out of this hellhole and taking Julie and Liam with me.”

  “What is it my grandmother used to say: ‘Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out’? You and I both know that if your sister moves anywhere, it will be in with my brother. You pretend to be protective and attentive, but where were you when she was serious about the last loser she dated? Newsflash: My bro spends more time with your nephew than you do. Don’t feel bad about moving out as soon as you ca
n, though. Think of it as more time with your strippers.” Knowing I wouldn’t get an answer, I stomped towards the office.

  The door opened for me, and Mac stood on the threshold. I thrust the cigarettes and matches at her. “Make sure Miss January gets these back when she has a sober moment.”

  The deputies must have grown bored with rousting the college kids across the street, according to Mac, who moved back behind her desk. The kids were released when the cops were done tossing the house.

  “Miss January is fine, but should one of her doctors prove to be correct and she expires, we are the new parents of Kitty. Mostly you.” I nodded at Mac. “We’ll put it up on the top of the armoire, like a decoration.” I looked up, scrunching my nose.

  Mac made a choking noise and mumbled something indecipherable.

  “Why are you half-dressed?” Fab asked, checking me over from head to toe from her position stretched out on the couch.

  “You don’t want to know.” I waved my shirt in front of her, and she batted it away. “Two of the partygoers got away. Probably not for long; one of their friends will cough up their names. Find out what went down over there, will you Mac? Happy news: Kevin is moving.”

  “Don’t get too happy. There’s not much available in the area in his price range.” Mac scribbled notes on her trusty pad. “The Canadian couple that owns the property across the street is done with all the problems, and grapevine has it they want to sell. If so, Shirl and I want to buy.”

  “Hmm…” I pushed out my lip. “Shirl moving?” I shook my head, not liking the idea. “But it’s only across the street. And that would end the parade of troublesome locals.”

  “You always say you won’t rent to them, then bend the rules for someone,” Fab reminded me.

  “Anything you need,” I told Mac, “call my brother, he’s got a long list of contacts and will pave the way. Time to go.” I nudged Fab’s feet off the couch. “I have an appointment.”

  I opened the door, Fab and Mac behind me. “What are they doing?” I gasped. Starletta was plastered to Crum’s chest, her arms and legs wrapped around him, rubbing up and down as they cavorted around the driveway.

  “Don’t you know dry humping when you see it?” Mac said, her southern accent more pronounced.

  The spectacle was bad, a horribly vulgar display that showed that neither of them knew how to conduct themselves in public. At the opposite end of the driveway, two of Cruz’s relatives stepped out of their cottage, beach bags over their shoulders, and jerked to a stop. The beach forgotten, they gawked, watching the show.

  Fab shoved me forward. “Your guests came for the show; give them one.”

  Mac grabbed the waistband of my skirt. “I’ll do it. I know what these people expect.” Stepping in front of me, she bellowed, “Professor, your ass is showing, and that’s against the rules.”

  Today the professor was wearing a raggedy elastic-waist woman’s skirt that required two big safety pins at the waist to stay up. He often complained about clothing being too restrictive. I’d asked him once if he’d gone naked to his college classes, but he only rolled his eyes and stomped away without a word. He’d been about to say something, I think, but probably remembered I was his landlord.

  Crum skidded to a stop, and Starletta slid to the ground. Straightening her beach cover-up, she turned and flipped off Mac. Then she clasped Crum’s hand and tugged him towards his cottage. He pulled the back of his skirt out of his waistband, flipped it over his once-white undershorts, and yelled back, “I’ll keep it down in the back.”

  “Got your guns, girls?” I asked.

  They both snorted in response.

  “That makes two.” Mac lifted her top to show her Beretta shoved in her waistband.

  “Three,” Fab corrected. “Madison’s got her handgun; she just wants me to do the dirty work.”

  I almost had to run to catch up with Crum and shove my foot inside before he could get his door closed. My backup posse was one step behind. “Rule number one: You never give my manager the finger,” I barked at the stringbean woman who had her palms cupped over Crum’s backside.

  “I thought the first one was about not committing felonies,” Crum grumbled.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” I gestured at the woman with choppy pink hair. Gone was the grey bun from the first time I saw her; made me wonder if it was fake. My eyebrows went up at the pairing of royal blue stilettos and rolled-up sweats.

  “This is my girlfriend, Starletta Wells, and Madison.” He pointed unenthusiastically.

  “Crum left off the good part—I’m the owner of this property. You need to apologize to my manager.”

  “Who’s going to make me?” She returned my glare.

  “Either you do it, and I mean now, or you’re banned from the property and you can get laid in his newest acquisition, that junky old Falcon.” The old blue-and-white car had replaced a pickup truck that he claimed was a collector’s item, worth big money. I’d responded, Maybe it if weren’t a rusted-out pile. “Another option would be for Crum here to pack up his treasures and move.”

  He and I both knew that no landlord would rent to him, as his eccentric reputation preceded him. Since he already knew that he could hoard more when not living in an automobile, he’d be loathe to leave.

  Crum held up a finger and grabbed Starletta’s arm, hauling her off to one side.

  “Oww.” She slapped his arm.

  The two of them hissed at one another like a couple of old cats. I couldn’t make out the words but enjoyed the sound effects.

  “As much as those two enjoy banging,” Mac whispered from behind me, “his dick is going to lose the vote. Crum likes it here; you’ll have to get him out with a forklift.”

  I turned, hands on my hips.

  “I didn’t rent to him,” Mac blurted before I could say a word. “Do you want to hear more about her or chew me out and then feel bad?”

  Fab smacked her arm. “Spill it.”

  “Starletta is a major pain in the…” Mac pointed to her backside. “She’s a S-stirrer, if you know what I mean. According to Crum, she spreads BS around the neighborhood, whipping up hard feelings. You want gossip to ignite like wildfire, she’s your woman.”

  The loving twosome broke their huddle and stumbled over. Starletta straightened and thrust out her meager chest, spitting fire at Mac: “I regret my transgression, flipping you the bird.” She stuck up her middle finger. “I didn’t realize that you didn’t have a sense of humor. But I’ll remember for the future.”

  The laughing behind me was faint, but I knew it was Fab.

  “If you should need to apologize again, a simple ‘I’m sorry’ would sound more sincere,” I barked, certain that this wouldn’t be the last run-in I had with the woman.

  “No hard feelings.” Crum wrapped his arm around Starletta and pulled her inside his cottage. “We’ve got plans for the afternoon!” he yelled and slammed the door.

  Mac flinched, said, “S-e-x,” and made a clucking noise. “He’s too cheap to take her anywhere. A meal at his house consists of whatever the food bank is passing out.”

  “He takes food from needy people?” I asked.

  “I volunteer, and the food banks do a good job of making sure that no one who shows up goes away empty-handed.”

  “You know something, Macklin Lane—you’re amazing,” I said and meant every word. The woman had been named after her grandfather, and I’m sure he’d have been very proud of his namesake.

  Mac’s cheeks turned pink, the first time I’d seen her embarrassed. It made me like her even more, if that was possible.

  Cruz’s relatives moved past us, calling out a friendly hello as they headed to the beach.

  “I kept my eye on those two.” Fab nodded at their retreating backs. “They didn’t move an inch until the drama was over. Maybe a little, but only to get closer.”

  “Do you think we can sneak away before any more drama erupts?” I asked.

  Chapter 19


  Fab threw rafts in the pool, and I set a plastic tray with glasses and a pitcher of iced tea on the side, then jumped in, splashing water all over her, which she deflected by throwing her hands up in front of her face.

  “When are you going to work for Brick again?” Fab splashed me back, handing me two glasses while she climbed on her raft.

  “He finally told you?” I paddled to her side and put her tea in the drink holder.

  “He mentioned it after he was done yelling about how ungrateful you were, considering he let you work under his license. Thinks you should have told him you quit to his face and not in a text.”

  “He never ever took seriously me wanting to get my own private investigator’s license. I’d think he’d be happy; he gets you to all to himself, which he made clear is what he wants. Have you two ever…?” I scissored my index and middle fingers.

  Fab made a face. “Oh, heck no. Answer my question.”

  “Besides the fact that I don’t want to work for the man, I promised Creole I wouldn’t agree to another job unless I talked to him first. There’d have to be a really good reason for me to consider working when it would irk my boyfriend. I’m surprised that Brick wants to get within ten feet of me after Creole blacked his eye.”

  I debated whether or not to tell Fab that I had an appointment with my first client in a couple of hours. Not having a clue what the job was about, I didn’t want to humiliate myself if it wasn’t corporate espionage or something else exciting. Instead, I changed the subject. “What are your plans for today?”

  “Waiting for Didier to finish with a meeting, after which we’re walking down the beach for lunch.”

  Good—she won’t notice when I slip away.

  * * *

  JS Auto Body was located in a seedy part of the docks. There wasn’t anything welcoming about the business, with its twelve-foot fencing, rolled barbed wire, and perimeters covered in security cameras. Neighboring businesses included fish markets, a tow yard, and an assortment of businesses that didn’t bother with signage. None, apparently, were dependent on walk-in traffic. Spoon operated by appointment only and offered impeccable service. Most automobiles were picked up on a flatbed, serviced, and returned, detailed inside and out, the same way.