“I know you feel a loyalty to that man, but I don’t have to like it or him,” Didier grouched.
Creole didn’t say a word but made his feelings known by wrapping his arms around me as Fab continued to explain.
She detailed the visit and everything we knew about the case, then ran down the new rules she had insisted on and told them she’d informed Brick that if he couldn’t or wouldn’t agree, she wasn’t going to work for him.
Creole’s agitated breath blew on the back of my neck. I knew he was waiting to hear how I fit into this new arrangement.
Her next words: “I need Madison as backup,” made his arms tighten like iron bands until I whimpered. “Madison quit the bastard already,” he said.
I grumbled, and he loosened his hold enough that I could breathe. “Honey.” I looked up at him.
“I don’t want to hear anything that starts with that word,” Creole barked.
Fab grasped Didier’s hand in hers. “Madison only agreed because of me. Wouldn’t you feel bad if something awful happened to me? Madison would suffer lifelong guilt. Hold it against you.”
I wanted to clap. The pouty lip was a nice touch. She must be getting private “guilt inducing” classes from Mother. I’d have to grade her a little lower, though, as she’d used that exact same phrase to motivate me to see things her way.
Didier crossed his arms and exchanged silent communication with Creole, who leaned back against the chaise, taking me with him and wrapping his legs around me.
“I had no plans to go anywhere,” I said.
“I know you want to do this for Fab. But we have a few rules of our own, don’t we Didier?”
“Before you start this case, you have to have that tracking app installed on your phone,” Didier demanded.
I wasn’t the only one surprised by Didier’s ultimatum. Fab looked at him like he’d grown a second head. She hated any attempts at making her trackable. What really surprised me was that she agreed.
Chapter 26
Fab and I sat in the driveway, her question of, “What next?” going unanswered. My phone beeped, indicating a message, and I mumbled the words as I read.
“You think its fun to drive me crazy? I’m not amused.” Fab scowled, holding out her hand for the car keys.
Good friend that I am, I laughed at her frustration over my antics. “According to Phil, she’s got the goods on Ms. Zilla.” I handed over the keys; she’d been irritated that I grabbed them before she could get to them. “She’s in her office; let’s go chat.”
When we reached Jake’s, Fab and I went in through the kitchen. The doors were open and music blaring, lunch prep underway. Cook’s son waved. His wife and oldest son took up the slack during peak hours; the dictator himself was inside the walk-in refrigerator. When I hired him, I’d given him complete control over his domain. Our deal was: I wouldn’t tell him what to do and he’d put out good food. He had the latitude to sing, dance, watch his telenovelas, talk on the phone, whatever, as long as there were no complaints. There had been a few, but only from the regular complainers looking for something for free.
We stopped at the bar to get drinks, and Phil waved us down from the deck, pointing to a cart she’d set up with bottled water and a pitcher of iced tea.
I nudged Fab out to the patio. “The more information we have on Zilla, the better. Do I need to remind you that the last case of yours, the woman went psycho and pulled a gun? Something about all this sunshine wreaks havoc on mental stability. We need to be careful.”
Fab groaned. “Who names their kid Zilla?” she asked.
“Stoners who shouldn’t procreate. It could be worse.” Fab’s astonished face told me she didn’t believe me.
Phil had paperwork spread out across the table permanently reserved for family and select friends. Fab and I helped ourselves to a drink, and I flipped on the ceiling fans before sliding into a seat next to her.
“Took you longer than I thought,” Phil said, looking at her watch. “I gotta say upfront that this job won’t be a freebie because I had to call in an outside contractor.”
“There will be no price-quibbling,” I assured her. “We’ll pass it on to our client, and so far, he’s never failed to pay.”
Phil nodded, satisfied. “Ms. Zilla is a clever woman, despite her rap sheet of petty crimes. Unfortunately for her, I loathe unanswered questions. When all leads led to a black hole, I contacted a friend who could run the driver’s license pic and see if it got any other hits. Paydirt.” Phil smirked, pleased with her find.
“Reassure us that she’s not crazy,” Fab said.
“Hmm…” Phil paused. “In my professional opinion, she leans that way.”
“Another one.” I sighed.
“Zilla Mirren lives her more adventurous lifestyle under her pseudonym; her real name is Finn Kennedy, and that record doesn’t have a blemish on it. I assume because she doesn’t want to risk her social status. She’s an interesting woman, part of an uber-rich family of overachievers with roots going back a hundred years. Connected, graduated Yale with honors, rich in her own right, courtesy of a trust fund, and heads up a foundation that supports several charities.”
I blew out a loud sigh. “She’s bored? She’s…?”
“Probably addicted to risk-taking.” Phil telegraphed her feelings about that: ‘what a waste.’ “When you get arrested, they run an identity check, so for her fraudulent ID to pass muster, she must have some damn fine connections.”
“Wouldn’t mind getting those names,” Fab murmured.
“Zilla has been arrested several times, but the charges always get dropped. I got more information on her when I ran the name of the longtime boyfriend who accused her of burglary. It would be interesting to know if he knows her real identity. They’ve never been photographed together, and his name has never been linked to hers, except for the recent arrest.”
Fab perked up, finally taking an interest in the conversation. “The neighbor claims they left town together.”
“The boyfriend probably put that out there to salve his ego. Zilla doesn’t form lasting relationships, for good reason.” Phil flicked to another page.
“Do you have a business address?” I asked. “Her office hours?” Fab and I had agreed that this conversation/confrontation would take place in a public place. Her office wasn’t ideal and probably not completely private, but it would have to do. Neither of us wanted to pay a visit to her house, which probably had state-of-the-art security.
“The foundation office is in a high-end business park on Corporate Circle in Boca Raton. You’ve got a long drive. I’ll see if I can make you an appointment.”
“We don’t need an appointment; she’ll see us,” I said.
Two of the lunch regulars came through the back and seated themselves at the bar, waving.
“This will require dress-up.” Fab looked me up and down. “Not your usual business attire of a skirt and flip-flops.”
“You know I can break out a pair of low heels when the occasion calls for it.” I stood and twirled in my full, black above-the-knee skirt. “How do I look?” I asked Phil, then glared at Fab. “Don’t you answer.”
“You always look nice; you both do.” She laughed. “Time for me to open up, make it official.”
Fab stood and grabbed my arm. “I always tell you that you look nice.”
“You do? Next time, get my attention first so I don’t miss it.” I waved to the two men at the bar as we left.
Chapter 27
As Fab flew up the Overseas, headed for home, I stared out the window at the glistening blue-green water. “That meeting took longer than I thought,” I said. “Drop yourself at home; I need my car. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Where are you going that I can’t come?” Fab asked in a whiny tone. “It’s the animal case, isn’t it? I wanna go… check it out for myself.” She paused, wrinkling her nose. “We’re not hauling around animals, are we?”
I almost laughed at her. “
You worried I’ll let them roam wild and get hair all over the SUV?” I twisted around in my seat, waving my hand. “Make a U-turn. That’s Mac walking along the road.”
Fab honked several times as she pulled up behind her. Mac turned and waved, walking back to the car.
She poked her head in the back door. “Thanks for this.” She hoisted herself into the seat. “Normally I could walk it, but not in these damn clogs.” She shoved her foot out from under her long jersey skirt, showing off a pair of wooden shoes.
Who knew those were still being made? Were they really even a shoe?
“With the way people drive, you could get run over,” Fab lectured.
“You mean drivers like you.” I nudged her.
“My brakes failed,” Mac explained. “Luckily not while I was moving. I had to leave the truck parked at Lucky Dude, the convenience store about a mile back. To make matters worse, my damn wallet is gone out of my purse. I only take it out when I need something and put it right back. I don’t know what happened to it.” Mac shifted on the back seat, throwing her arm along the seatback. “Where are we going?” she asked as Fab hooked another U-turn.
“Madison has to go check on a job. Unless you want me to drop you here and give you cab fare?” Fab said.
“I’m in,” Mac said excitedly. “This will be a girl road trip. Wait till Shirl hears about this.”
“Road trip is an overstatement; we’re just headed to the next Key down,” I turned and said over the seat. “I wouldn’t get too worked up. The excitement level will be zero.” I nudged Fab’s shoulder. “You’ll want to change into tennis shoes; it’s pretty overgrown.” Long ago, we found that it was beneficial to keep a change of clothes and shoes in the back.
“Is this that animal job? I asked everyone I could think of that could give one a decent home—placed a few, but not many,” Mac said.
“I can return the favor right now.” I smiled at Mac. “Where do you want your truck towed to?”
“The dealer. And it’s up in Homestead,” Mac groaned.
I retrieved my phone out of the cup holder and called Spoon; it went to voicemail. I left him a message, giving him the details about where to find Mac’s truck and her phone number for any other questions. “Don’t look so worried,” I said to Mac. “This is a freebie.”
Fab followed my finger-pointing directions. She put up with it as long as I didn’t wait until the last few feet before the turn. “Did you give Spoon the almost-family discount on this job?”
“It’s a freebie.” I turned to look out the window, not wanting to see her expression. She loathed the word “free” when it came to jobs.
“That bastard is taking advantage of you.” Fab beat on the steering wheel with her fist.
My eyebrows flew to my hairline. “I wouldn’t recommend ever whispering that word in his general direction.”
Fab fingered her neck. “He’d squeeze the life out of me.”
“Not my business,” Mac called from the back seat. “But free? You need to eat too.”
“The agreement was that I’d do it for free as long as he didn’t breathe a word about the fact that he thought I was perfect for the job. My ego suffered; in fact, I’m still sulking a little. I should have known that he wasn’t going to offer me a job meant for Jason Bourne. Then I found out Mother had a hand in the decision…”
Fab tugged on a lock of my hair. “If I were a cat, I’d want to go to your house.”
“Hell, yeah,” Mac said.
“Look at Snow—her life just got a giant boost for the better. She’s got food, her own comfy bed, Jazz sniffs her out a few times a day, and she doesn’t have to pick up after herself. Now that’s the life.” Not having been paying attention to my hand signals, Fab hit the brakes and maneuvered through a wide turn.
I leaned back and closed my eyes, Fab’s supportive words getting me over the last hurdle of pride.
“How many animals are there?” Mac asked. “What are you going to do if you can’t find homes?”
“I was worried at first. Especially after I called several shelters. All were full to capacity; they seemed sympathetic but weren’t very helpful. One told me, ‘Good luck on placing the cats.’ Apparently, there are more cats than dogs that need a home, and the demand is low. So I went through my phonebook, calling everyone listed, even if I’d only met them once, and asked them to spread the word. I lucked out and found homes for most of them. If I had to do it every day, I’d have many a sleepless night. Our friend at the bird farm took all the parrots and songbirds, two geriatric dogs, and three cats.”
“That’s why Spoon called you,” Fab said. “I don’t have any friends, and the others in my phone list would hang up on me.”
“Hey,” Mac yelled, “you got two friends—besides Madison, of course—Shirl and me.”
Fab wouldn’t admit it, but I knew she liked hearing that.
* * *
“I’m not sure why people call gravel a road,” Fab griped, turning off on the “street” to Ruth’s house.
Looking out the windshield, I surveyed the approach to the property. “Believe me, it looks better than it did. Though the rusted-out mailbox is still the only marker.” I pointed up. “A tree trimmer has been out here, or Billy did it. He’s handier than he looks. I gave him carte blanche; I figured if he spent too much, he could explain it to his boss.”
“Who’s Billy?” Mac asked. She had scooted up and hung her head between the seats.
“One of Spoon’s men and perfect for the job. He doesn’t have any sense of smell. The odor inside the house is overwhelming. I tacked on a huge bonus as incentive not to ditch me at the first opportunity. All billed to Spoon,” I told them.
“That’s why Madison does all the billing and collection.” Fab exchanged a nod with Mac.
“What if he doesn’t pay?” Mac asked. “Billy might not be comfortable pushing for it; he’s an employee, and Spoon is scary.”
“Then I’ll pay him and tell Mother.”
“I could threaten him, tell him he better not go all cheap on you.” Fab half-laughed, pulling up across from the trailer.
“That’s two bad ideas in a row.” I tsked.
Billy sat, feet propped up, under an umbrella outside his motorhome. On our approach, one hand had moved to the back of his waistband. Once he recognized the SUV, however, he stood, stomping on a soda can, which he pitched into the trash.
My last trip out, the flies were out of control, buzzing the open cans. Now the old ones had been replaced by two plastic cans with well-fitting lids. A weed whacker had been taken to the grass, which was still a little scraggly, but a huge improvement.
“Hey William,” I said, stepping out of the SUV.
Caught off guard, he hesitated, then glared. “Since you’re not my mom, Billy will be fine.”
“Let me make a note: ‘no sense of humor,’” Fab said, coming around the front of the car.
“I smiled,” he defended himself, his lips quirking ever so slightly. “You must have missed it.”
“Mac—Billy.” I introduced them after Mac slammed the door, joining us. “What’s the update?”
“All the animals have permanent homes, except for the dozen that were sickly but not dying. Yet. They would have if left untreated. I didn’t think you wanted them nuked.” One would have thought Mac asked the question, since he kept his eyes on her, checking her out from head to toe. Mac had obviously noticed; her cheeks turned pink.
Fab walked across the driveway, then around the back of the house.
“No, of course not! I didn’t even like it when it was suggested that the already dead cats get tossed in the trash.” I was pleased when Dickie and Raul had offered to cremate them; they’d buried them under a paver on the patio and written in the cement to mark the spot.
“You should know that I made a deal with a woman who lives out here. She’s agreed to look after the sick ones, making sure they’re fed and get their medication. She’s a little down on her luck
, so I gave her money for it, but I wouldn’t ask for free anyway. I was hoping you’d help me find her a job once the cats are better. Husband up and died and left her with bills.”
“Make sure she’s overpaid, and I’ll tell Spoon that she needs to be subsidized until the cats are healthy and new homes can be found for them.” I glanced over at Mac, who was unusually quiet; she hadn’t taken her eyes off Billy. He didn’t seem to mind, his gaze constantly going back to her.
“You’ve been more than generous, and I suspect it would be the same if it was your money. The job went smoothly. I enjoyed orchestrating the cleanup—” Billy flexed his muscles. “—and tried to make sure the relocation of the animals wasn’t a shock to them. Another upside: no one got arrested, and there were no code-violation tickets.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t show up,” I said.
“They did, and lucky you, it was another friend of yours—Quatro from the Code Department. We gossiped some, and when I mentioned your name, he said he knew you and that, since the cleanup was almost complete, he’d close the complaint that had been filed against the property. He likes you a lot and took a cat for his neighbor, who just lost hers to old age.”
Quatro was a friend of my aunt’s who spoke at her funeral. It wasn’t until her death that I found out she’d had a colorful parade of friends. All of them extended their friendship to me, which I never failed to appreciate. My aunt would have loved to know that her old friends were happy to do a favor or two for her niece.
“More good news: Miss Ruth didn’t end up under court control.”
I was happy to hear that, knowing a protracted court hearing would take its toll on her and eventually the daughter would be named caretaker anyway.
“That first night, I thought the biggest problem would be Miss Ruth, but when her daughter showed, she seemed to accept that she was in over her head and needed help.” Billy sighed, looking relieved it had gone smoothly.
Fab came out of the front door, scowling. “This needs to be bulldozed. Even Miss Fix Old Stuff over there—” She pointed at me. “—can’t do anything with this. There are a couple of places in the floor you should check out before you do anything. It appears to be more than a bad case of dry rot.”
Executed in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 9) Page 18