He didn’t say anything but appeared to be thinking about what I’d said.
“Be sure to get pictures; you can use them for promos,” I suggested.
After another nudge from Didier, this one more insistent, Fab concocted an excuse for us to leave. A meeting with a client was always a good one. It could even be true.
We said our good-byes. Fab hugged both Raul and Didier, and I waved to Priscilla, who had returned with a plate of food and sat in the front row, admiring her purchase.
I overheard Didier tell Fab, “You drive. Madison can sit in the backseat with me so that I can strangle her on the way home.”
I ran around to the driver side and jumped in, sliding behind the wheel and pushing the lock down.
Chapter 24
I walked through the low tide, kicking the water as I went and sending it flying, giving myself a good drenching as I headed home. When I got parallel with the back of my house, I cut across the white sand and made my way up the steps. The sound of Fab’s voice echoing through the opening in the fence caught my attention. Peeking in, I did a double take when I recognized the back of the man sitting with her.
Fab waved over his shoulder, her patented smirk firmly in place, and Brick turned. Sitting on the edge of his chair, poised for flight, he shifted, a reasonably friendly smile pasted on his face.
This is a first. Brick must have wanted something awfully bad to show up at my house. Not sure what to say, I waved and skirted past them.
I was steps away from the patio door when Brick called out, “Madison, I came to talk to both of you.”
Blowing out a whoosh of air before turning, I walked back and sat in a chair next to Fab.
“I want Fab to come back to work for me, and she won’t without you,” Brick stated.
So much for “hi, how are you” small talk. “Let’s see if I understand: you’ll put up with me to get her back. How nice.” I noticed that Fab hadn’t offered him anything to drink; translated, that meant she hadn’t invited him for this little get-together.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said with no conviction. “Fab and I had a long talk, and she made me realize how important backup is for her safety. For my part, I won’t withhold any information in the future, no matter how insignificant.”
I should have felt a tad sorry for him, but I didn’t. If he could have schmoozed Fab into working without me, he wouldn’t be sitting on my patio in a snit. “You worked solo for him before; why not now?” I nudged Fab.
“The guilt would eat at you if something happened to me.” She had a point there, and she smirked as though reading my thoughts.
If I were honest with myself, I wanted to tell him to go to hell. I’d be Fab’s backup anytime, but I didn’t want to work for Brick anymore. “I can’t commit until I talk to Creole.”
“What, you’ve got to get the boyfriend’s permission to blow your nose?” Brick sneered.
“Don’t be rude.” I gave him my best contemptuous stare. “If it weren’t for Fab, the answer would be no.” My gaze flicked over the side of his face; it was healing but still faintly yellow. “How did you get the black eye?”
He growled and ignored me. He didn’t dare say, “You should see the other guy,” since we both knew that there wasn’t a scratch on Creole.
“Where’s your snack bowl?” Brick looked around.
“We don’t buy junk food,” I said snootily, trying not to laugh at the look on his face. “If you want something cold to drink, there’s a refrigerator over there.” I pointed.
Brick got up and walked over, taking a minute to pull out a beer. “Impressive selection,” he said over his shoulder. Instead of returning, he stood in the doorway, checking out the interior of the house. He stared at one corner and pointed. “What’s that?”
“They’re called cats.” I didn’t bother to cover up my eye-roll. “If you touch one of them, I’ll shoot you. They don’t like to be petted.” Truthfully, both of them would love it if a human were assigned to pet them for hours on end, but the last thing I wanted was Brick doing it. I kept my cootie comments to myself.
Fab read the look on my face and erupted into laughter. “Just like their mother.”
When Snow first arrived, she and Jazz had given each other the sniff over, hissed a few times, then started sleeping together. As soon as Snow had her babies, she was getting fixed, so I wouldn’t have to sit her down for the sex talk.
Brick sat back down, and Fab said, “Here’s the deal. No withholding information, and that’s not negotiable. We find out that you did, and you’ll have to find someone new who’ll jump when you bark.”
“I agree to all that,” Brick said, downing his beer.
Fab held up her hand before Brick could stand and escape. “There’s more. I also have to run this by Didier. Madison’s involvement, along with full disclosure, would seal the deal. Both of our boyfriends think you’re a weasel and have run out of patience with your jobs. So no screw-ups.”
“I can’t guarantee that there won’t be problems,” Brick said.
“We know that, but in the future, not disclosing that someone is a six-time felon will be a relationship-ender.” Fab maintained eye contact.
I enjoyed watching Fab in action. She spelled it out for him in a concise manner, not getting caught up in hurt feelings.
“I’ve got a case for you,” Brick announced. Of course he did. Why else would he be here? He needed Fab and needed her now.
“You might want to hold off; this isn’t a done deal,” I reminded him.
“I’m not coming back down here,” he said adamantly. “Now here’s my non-negotiable point: in the future, you two come to the office. I’ll have all the details at my fingertips.”
“Don’t leave anything out,” Fab ordered.
“I posted bail for this nice young woman,” Brick started.
I got up to get a bottle of water and, when I was behind his back, pushed my boobs forward.
When Fab laughed, he shifted in his chair, glaring at me. “Zilla Mirren was charged with the felony burglary of her ex-boyfriend’s house. She lacked the ten percent required for the bond amount and, as collateral, offered a several-carat diamond ring that she’d inherited from her mother. I agreed to hold it to give her time to get the cash together.” He paused and said to me, “Get me a water.”
I glared at him. He got the message and stomped over to the refrigerator to retrieve a bottle himself.
“The case was tossed.” He settled back in his chair. “There was some suspicion that the boyfriend had set her up, but no charges were ever filed against him. I contacted Zilla about the outstanding balance on her bail premium, and she gave me the okay to sell the ring, as she didn’t have the cash, and refund her the excess. I sent it over to the jeweler, and it came back as cubic zirconia. She’d already blown town.”
Fab and I laughed. “You didn’t have it appraised ahead of time?” I continued to laugh.
“You should have seen it; it was flawless.” Brick sighed. “Thinking the boyfriend might be cooperative, I drove to his house, but found out he’d moved. The neighbor thought they’d reconciled because she’d seen Zilla around and they were all lovey-dovey; her words, not mine. This is what happens when you’re a nice guy. I even offered her a job at The Gentleman’s Club so she could pay off the debt and keep her mother’s ring. I felt bad about selling it.”
“You want us to chase her down,” I said. “Then what? She doesn’t have any money, or did you want the matching necklace?”
Fab and I laughed again.
“You’re such a smart—” Brick stopped himself.
“You knew that before you came here.”
Brick had clearly had enough of the two us—me, anyway. “Zilla Mirren isn’t even her real name. I turned the file over to a skip tracer, but he’s avoiding my calls, so I suspect he hasn’t turned up anything. My BS detector didn’t even ping with the woman. Also, I’m impressed that she somehow managed to craft multiple
identities well enough to fool law enforcement.”
“So that’s why you need us. You want us to track her down… and what? Demand a check? Why bother? It would probably be rubbery. Even if it didn’t bounce, you think she’s just going to hand it over?” He’d lost his mind, and my stare told him so.
“If she doesn’t have the money, you want us to shoot her?” Fab asked.
“I want to know everything there is to know about Zilla Mirren and who in the hell she really is. Then I’ll decide,” Brick seethed.
“Why not do it yourself? Or even better, write it off as ‘distracted by double D’s.’” I struggled not to smirk.
“Nobody screws me,” Brick practically spit. “And they were only C’s.” His cheeks flushed.
Fab hit me in the arm. “What do we need?”
“A decent picture of Ms. Zilla, in case she altered her looks in any way. A copy of the proof of identity and application she filled out.”
Fab nodded.
Brick stood. “Get back to me first thing tomorrow with an answer. If you need a tip or two about getting your men to say yes, I can help with that.”
“No, thanks,” Fab said in disgust.
“Tomorrow.” He shook his finger at us and went out the side fence.
“How does he know about the misnamed ‘secret path’?” I asked.
“I recognized his Range Rover driving by slowly several times, checking out the neighborhood, and for my peace of mind, I went outside to investigate. I brought him in that way, thinking you wouldn’t want him inside the house. I know I didn’t.”
Chapter 25
I stuck my head in the refrigerator, thinking Fab’s “divide and conquer” idea was a terrible plan. Creole preferred to get irritating information in a straightforward fashion. If he thought I was using sex to manipulate him… Fireworks. And if the same tactic was used against me, it would provoke a loud, noisy fight.
“Didier and I need some alone time tonight,” Fab said to my back.
Jerking a bottled water from the shelf, I turned. She was scrutinizing me for resistance. I sat across the island from her.
Both Jazz and Snow came sauntering in. Snow sat quietly. Jazz, I swear, nudged her, as if to say, “Watch and learn. This is how it’s done,” then meowed at the top of his lungs. Fab, the enabler, retrieved tuna from the refrigerator and gave them each a spoonful.
“This sneak-ass approach of yours is a bad idea. We should sit them down and present the job as though we have nothing to hide—which, by the way, we don’t.”
Fab hung over the kitchen sink, surveying the driveway. “Creole is going to know that you’re only doing this for me.” She turned back; since she didn’t whip out her gun, I assumed we were trespasser-free. “I’m serious about not doing jobs without backup. If I had to get a new partner, wouldn’t you be jealous?”
“No.” I shook my head. “He or she wouldn’t be around long. I’d put a bullet in their butt and wave bye-bye.”
“It doesn’t bother me to try and guilt you, just so you know.”
“Is that a trick you learned in convent school?” I smiled sweetly.
“Hardly.” Fab snorted. “The sisters knew early on that I needed a watchful eye or I’d inspire chaos. I worked to stay out of trouble and out of the range of the dreaded ruler.”
I snapped my fingers at her. “You know Creole likes you and would never want you to be in any danger. He respects your abilities.”
Fab raised her eyebrows. “Don’t go overboard. Can I call him names once in a while? How about ‘Hey you’?”
I gave her the stink eye.
“Oh, okay.” Fab pouted. “Only because it hurts your feelings.”
“Let’s cook them dinner.” I opened the refrigerator again, looking for something that wouldn’t require much work. We had some leftover Mexican food, but not enough for four, and it would hardly count as home-cooked. “We’ll serve it out by the pool.”
“Cooking is men’s work.” Fab humphed. “I hate everything about it, including the dishes, unless it’s me and Didier and he makes it sexy time.”
I covered my face and said through my fingers, “Stop. You better not be… well, you know, in the kitchen.”
“You have Didier to thank for that. He has more restraint than me.”
I held out my hand, pulling her to her feet. “Come on, we’ll raid the grocery store.”
* * *
“What else?” Fab asked from her position on the lounger she was paddling to the side of the pool. She had changed into a black bikini with a little more material than her preferred string-style, but not much.
“No, no, don’t stress yourself.” I waved my hand, continuing to set the table.
Fab had been a huge help in selecting fresh fruits and vegetables. Didier must be quite instructional, and what surprised me more was that she’d listened. That was the extent of her assistance, though, unless you counted her handing me vegetables one at a time to chop.
“You always set the prettiest tables.” Fab climbed out of the pool and crossed to the table. She fingered the shell-embossed dinner plates and stainless bamboo silverware, a recent upgrade because the handles on the wooden ones had begun to snap off.
“Once I began collecting my own dishes, it just became fun. Then there’s my need for visual perfection in my surroundings.”
“Owning a house suits you. Even the outside looks great, and it was all your hard work. I even like the shell mulch. I’d buy them by the bag rather than stoop down and pick them up off the beach, though. But if you tell anyone, I’ll throw them in the trash. I’m more suited to an upscale condo.”
I looked up and scowled. “This isn’t your way of telling me you’re moving, is it?”
“Oh, hell no. When I first barged in on you, I expected to stay a week or two, but now I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I didn’t think I’d enjoy being part of a family, but I do. Besides, all the good stuff happens in your kitchen. If Didier and I marry, we’ll have to stay close by.”
“We could build a third story, and the honeymooners could have it all to themselves.” I couldn’t imagine living by myself. I did it for a few months when I first moved to Florida and didn’t like it. Even though unexpected company exhausted me at times, I wouldn’t trade the fact that my house was the de facto meeting place for anything. “Just try and leave, and I’ll drag your skinny ass back here.”
“What, unconscious? Tied up?”
“It’s rude to gloat that your ass-kicking skills far exceed mine.”
“Someone’s home.” She shot off the chaise. “Do we have a plan?”
“Eat first. We’ll come up with something.”
* * *
Didier arrived home first, and Creole came through the front door not long after. Both looked surprised that dinner was ready to be grilled. I’d had the butcher assemble assorted fish and beef skewers. I’d chopped up vegetables for grilling and conjured up some flavored rice that I’d already tasted and gave a “thumbs up” to. I’d passed on a bottle of wine, going with mixed drinks, and put together a tray of garnishes.
During dinner, Didier asked Creole, “Do you know what your girlfriend did to me?”
The tone of his voice suggested I’d committed bodily harm. I tapped Fab’s leg under the table and glanced sideways at her, hoping she’d interrupt the conversation and take it in a different direction.
“Pull a gun on you?” He kissed my cheek. “Oh wait, that would be your girlfriend.”
“How about some brotherly support?” Didier told Creole about the visit to the funeral home. “I didn’t appreciate being railroaded.”
“If I’d known how sensitive you were, I’d have locked the car door before you got in,” I said, giving him a dirty look.
When he got to the part about the corpse winking, Creole couldn’t hold back his laughter. “Sorry.” He said it a couple of times, but he continued to laugh. “At least there’s never any gunfire at the funeral home.”
“There was that one time…” I started.
Fab shook her head, raking a finger across her throat.
“You shot someone!” Didier looked appalled.
“Fab, superstar that she is, did the only thing she could to get a bunch of unruly mourners to calm down; she put a bullet in the ceiling, then ordered them out with instructions not to loiter. I think the service was over.” I quirked my head in question.
“I suppose you started it,” Creole said in amusement.
“Hell, no. Trust me, we were well-behaved and wanted out as soon as possible.” I turned on Didier. “Hell, hell, hell—I heard you tsk. You said it, so I thought it was on the exempt list. Unless you operate under a double standard?” The man was such a stickler about bad language, no matter how mild.
“She’s got you there. That would be hypocritical, pal.” Creole pushed back from the table.
“Are you done laughing at me?” Didier growled.
“Is the entertainment over?” Creole looked around the table in disappointment.
We moved poolside, sharing double chaises.
I fished a quarter out of the top of my bathing suit. “Fab.” I held up the coin, ready to toss.
She nodded. “You toss it. I call ‘heads.’ If it comes up ‘tails,’ you get to tell them.”
“So we were being buttered up; I wondered,” Creole said, running his hand down one side of my body, then the other. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
I shook my head and sent the coin flying in Fab’s direction. “You do the honors, and don’t touch it until Didier tells us which side is face up. Not that I don’t trust you.”
She caught the coin and tossed it in the direction of her beach bag. “I’ll tell them; it’s the least I can do.”
“Really?” I mouthed.
“I may need help getting the facts out, so pay attention,” she said to me.
At the first mention of Brick’s name, Creole and Didier growled in unison, which I wouldn’t have thought possible, unless they practiced it.
“You never said that I couldn’t work for Brick again. You said that it was my decision,” Fab reminded Didier.
Executed in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 9) Page 17