Executed in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 9)

by Deborah Brown

  “If you really don’t want to see me again, it would help if you moved away from The Cottages,” I yelled at his back.

  “Gotta go,” Crum said. “Got a date, and I have to get washed up.”

  “You hear anything, better give me a call,” I said.

  Crum saluted, pulled his bike out of the bushes, and started singing as he rode off in the opposite direction.

  “If you’d offered him a ride,” Fab said, “I’d have left you here with him before he could get to the door.”

  I put my head on her shoulder and laughed.

  Chapter 32

  Fab flew up the Turnpike and took the cutoff to the hospital where Brick was recovering. Neither of us was eager to make this social call, so we’d run every errand on the list first and even threw in some shopping. Now visiting hours were over, so we were late. Fab cut around a slowpoke, leaving more maneuvering room than usual. Praise had the opposite effect on her, so I kept my mouth shut.

  “Thanks for stopping by Jake’s so I could cop a couple of Mother’s best cigars.”

  “I thought we were taking a girlie magazine.” Fab skidded into a parking space in front.

  “That idea made me squeamish.” I flicked through Fab’s phone. “Room number is 1201.”

  “Don’t make eye contact with the receptionist,” Fab instructed. “Act like you know where you’re going. If that fails, we’ll say we’re headed to the coffee shop. That’s open all night in a hospital, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not generally staffed all night, but they usually have vending machines.”

  Fab and I were relieved to find that, instead of a receptionist, there was a placard saying, “Dial 0 for information.”

  “If Brick’s asleep, don’t poke him awake,” I said as we stepped into the elevator. “We’ll scribble a note and leave.”

  The elevator doors opened, and we saw Brick’s brother, Casio Famosa, standing in the upstairs hallway. “Just the two I want to talk to. Saves me time tracking you down.” He motioned for us to follow him into the waiting room, which wasn’t currently occupied.

  Fab and I sat down, but not before signaling “What’s up?” to each other. We knew Casio had a reputation for not playing by the rules, and I suspected Fab was as uncomfortable as I was with this encounter.

  I broke the silence. “Mr. Casio Detective, sir.” I flashed a smile that I hoped looked sincere. “How can we help you?”

  “You’re a smart-ass,” he declared.

  I didn’t bother to tell him that his statement wasn’t a news flash.

  “While you two engage in this little love fest.” Fab stood. “I’ll go say hello to Brick and drop off the cigars. You’re not his favorite anyway,” she said to me, holding out her hand.

  I fished the cigars from my skirt pocket, smoothing out the one with the smooshed end and handing them over. Oh well, it will smoke the same, won’t it?

  “I know Fab is part of the Famosa family, but I thought that you were no longer doing his dirty work and all.” Casio dragged a chair over in front of me.

  The Famosa family—eww! I suppressed the shudder that went through my body. “I made a clean getaway. Then, after a chat, we came to terms. We all agreed that he’s a dick, and now I’m back in the fold.”

  “Runs in the family.” Casio looked at me like I was a choice piece of beef. “If I weren’t married…”

  I grimaced. “My boyfriend would kill you and then leave me.”

  “Hmm… There is that. Creole’s a good guy and a damn fine detective. If you tell him I said that, I’ll laugh it off and have you arrested.”

  Another couple entered the waiting room, acknowledging us with a nod. Casio stood and motioned for me to follow.

  Fab joined us in the hallway. “Brick was only awake long enough to tell me where to stash the contraband.” She sidled up to me and put a hand on my arm. “Done? Good,” she said, without waiting for an answer, and started for the exit.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Casio said and moved his body in between the two of us. “Either of you got any idea who shot my brother?”

  Fab and I exchanged looks, and Fab shrugged. “Yeah, maybe,” she said. She told him about the latest case we’d done for Brick.

  “We can’t finger Zilla definitively, but she’s worth checking out,” I said. “We warned Brick. We both had a bad feeling about her and made sure she couldn’t track us down. You arrange face-time with her, be careful. If the hair on the back of your neck stands on end, heed the warning.”

  “No neck hair.” Casio ran a hand over his bald head. “For me, it’s a jolt up my spine, and it’s saved my life a couple of times.” He held the elevator doors open for us and pushed the button to the lobby.

  “Give me your phone.” He held his beefy hand out. “I’ll put in my info and text you my email; you can send any info you have on Zilla to me tomorrow.”

  “I have your number.” I pulled my phone from my pocket, finding him in the contact list and calling. “All you need to do is save.”

  He frowned at me when his phone rang. “If this pans out, I’ll owe you one.”

  “Just don’t kill her,” I whispered.

  “You need to stop listening to gossip.”

  Chapter 33

  The next day, I was left to my own devices. Fab refused to go on a jail visit; she even drew the line at sitting in the parking lot. Another factor in her decision was that Didier showed up at the last minute with a twinkle in his eye, which sealed her plans for the day; naturally, she chose the gorgeous Frenchman. I couldn’t complain; I’d rearrange my day for a romp on the beach with Creole.

  Heading to The Cottages, I made a mental list to check for any problems. Thankfully, all the units were booked, so I didn’t have to sit in the office all day. On the drive over, Creole called and informed me that the jail was on lockdown and all visits were cancelled for the week. One of the women had snuck in cigarettes and got caught smoking, and then a brawl had started over who told on whom. Creole assured me that he’d called in jail-perk favors for Mac.

  As I rounded the corner, a lime-colored matchbox car with a realtor sign on the door caught my eye. The fact that it was parked in front of the yellow house irked me. I slid into the open parking space in front of the office and went directly across the street.

  Janice Pincher, who I recognized from her ads, was locking the door of the house. Her clients, a husband and wife in their sixties, stood off to one side.

  I waved wildly over my head. “Has a dead body been dumped on this property yet? Another one was found—number seven, or was it eight? Not on this block again, thank heavens, but a few blocks over.” I acknowledged her clients with a cheery smile.

  “Uh…” Janice stumbled, a deer-in-the-headlights look crossing her face.

  I cut her off. “You have the hardest time with tenants.” I said with faux sympathy. “Didn’t the last bunch also end up in jail? I hope they don’t come back and vandalize the place like the last ones did.” I made a face.

  It amazed me that I wasn’t struck dead by the murderous glare Janice flung my way.

  The older couple appeared horrified and immediately put distance between themselves and Janice, the wife practically sprinting to their car, a dark sedan that had one tire up over the curb.

  Janice watched her retreating clients, then closed the distance between us and snarled, “The next time you have something to ask me, do not do it in front of my clients.”

  “I thought you had this sale in the bag. No offers?” I said sweetly. She clamped her lips shut, continuing to stare. “I’ve got an all-cash, no contingency offer for you. You’d never have to show this place again; just cash your commission check.”

  “If nothing else comes in, I’ll give you a call,” she said in a “don’t hold your breath” tone and stalked over to her clients.

  I waved to the three of them and hustled back across the street and into the office so I could peer out the window. I knelt on the couch and poked my no
se through the blind. The man looked a bit irate. Janice had pasted on a phony smile, and I’d bet was offering assurances that this wasn’t a crime-ridden neighborhood, pointing the finger of blame at me and saying that I didn’t know what I was talking about.

  The conversation lasted another minute before the couple pulled away from the curb, heading in the opposite direction from their realtor.

  I whipped my phone out, lay down on the couch, and called Brad. He answered and deep-breathed into the phone. “This isn’t high school,” I said in annoyance.

  “You’re no fun.”

  “Need I remind you that every time we had too much fun, we got into trouble? Realtor Janice was just showing the house across the street. I’m hoping I quashed whatever interest her clients had by dropping little bombshells like dead bodies and possible serial killers.”

  “Thought maybe the deal was dead now that Mac’s in jail?”

  “You and I could partner and buy it. If Mac gets sprung anytime soon and she and Shirl are still interested, we’ll flip it to them. If not, we’ll keep it. One of us should own it; it’s a great place to sit on the porch and watch the happenings at The Cottages.”

  “Turns out Janice was saving the listing for an investor friend of mine. That information cost a couple hundred. The deal isn’t happening, and Janice knows it. The owners want their asking price, and the numbers won’t work for an investor unless they lower the price.”

  “I just offered an all-cash deal, and she turned up her overly long nose and pranced off. Now what?”

  “Leave it to me. I’ll make the deal happen, and it won’t be at full price,” Brad assured me. “But you owe me, and I’m collecting. Found Mother a house and a condo. I’m going to take her to lunch and then to see both properties. You need to back me up.”

  “Hate to be a buzzkill, but Mother may be up to something.” I told him Creole’s theory. “Be subtle, order her Jack Daniel’s and then spring the surprise on her.”

  “Neither property is a dump. Personally, I think the condo is a better idea, considering her age.”

  “Bro, I’d leave the age mention out of the sales pitch.” I shook my head.

  Brad lumbered on, not listening. “The condo has amenities that a loft won’t have, and she won’t need a guard to get out of her car at night. There’s been a rash of vehicle break-ins down there; if she ever parked on the street, her car would disappear. Just recently, two cars were left on blocks, the tires gone.”

  “Unless the thieves can swap out tires like a NASCAR pit crew, I’d think that would be a good way to get caught and end up in the pokey.”

  “There was one arrest, but that’s not a deterrent. Where are you? You can go to lunch with Mother and me.” He laughed. “You working the office? That will drive you crazy; you might have to hire someone. What about Crum?”

  I groaned. “If you’re going to torment me, I’m hanging up.”

  * * *

  Locking up the office, I headed to the pool area. Halfway there, screams coming from Crum’s bathroom window had me skidding to a halt. I whipped out my gun, creeping closer, and listened. My face flushed bright red when I realized the screams weren’t distress but those of a woman vocally expressing her rapture, going up and down the musical scale.

  An older couple came in through the side gate holding hands. I recognized them as registered guests; their unit was just across the driveway.

  The woman squealed, “Look,” pointing at my gun. “It’s so exciting around here.”

  I reholstered it in the small of my back. “I’m sorry.” I wasn’t. Not sure what to say, I finished lamely, “I thought someone was in distress.”

  “Oh hon, those two are loud. At first I thought… well, I’m not sure…” The woman giggled.

  The husband rolled his eyes and stared at the ground, the toe of his shoe scraping back and forth against the concrete.

  “This won’t be happening again,” I apologized. At least not before they checked out.

  “Oh,” the woman said, looking disappointed. “How… hmm… can we watch?”

  Her husband tugged on her arm, and she jerked it back.

  More of Cruz’s relatives. I had a hunch he rented them from somewhere, but I lacked the nerve to ask. He’d be annoyed if one of them reported back that I’d stood in the way of their fun. “If you wouldn’t mind standing back?”

  They backed up a half-step.

  I took a long-legged step over the planter, careful not to squash the flowers, climbed up on an old rusty meter, and poked my head in the bathroom window. “Keep it down in here,” I yelled. “Close the bathroom window. Whatever you did with the screen, it better be back in place by the next time I visit or you’ll be evicted.” I climbed down, reached up, and with a hard shove, banged the window closed.

  The woman scowled at me. “I thought you’d use your gun.”

  “If I shot my tenants for noisy sex, I wouldn’t have any.”

  “I suppose.” She clearly wasn’t convinced. “Isn’t it exciting about that nice Mac Lane getting charged with murder?”

  Would this woman enjoy lounging about in a six-by-eight cell, her only view through steel-barred doors, without an iota of privacy? “Mac didn’t murder anyone, which I’m sure your… um… relative, Cruz, would tell you, since he’s representing her. I’m sure she’ll be out soon.” I needed to tell Mac how much I appreciated her when I saw her next.

  “We never thought she did.” She sighed, looking sheepish.

  Her husband gripped her bicep, maintaining his hold this time, and dragged her away. She turned and waved.

  Crum hobbled out his door, buttoning a dress shirt that hung down to the tops of his bare thighs, his feet crammed into mismatched loafers, one leather, the other canvas. “Sorry about that. I’ll get the window fixed.”

  The fact that he didn’t look sorry put me in a fighting mood, but it was Starletta peering around his shoulder that sent me over the edge. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re officially banned, which means don’t set one of your grubby feet on this property ever again.”

  “And to think I was going to offer to fill in for Mac while she languishes in jail.” Starletta flashed a tight smile.

  “Come back again, and I’ll call the sheriff and have you arrested.”

  Starletta looked down her nose, mimicking her boyfriend. “They’ll laugh at you.”

  “You’re standing on private property, and I have the final say about who comes and goes.” I fished out my phone, sticking it in her face. “Shall I call? Test out who’s right—you or me?”

  “You bitch.” She stepped out from behind Crum in a hot pink bra and a black G-string. That was too much nakedness; she resembled a skeleton with a hank of hair. My poor eyes. “Do you mind if I get dressed?” She stalked inside without waiting for an answer.

  It didn’t escape me that Crum had thus far remained silent. “You have until the count of three,” I yelled after her, “so make it snappy.”

  “It won’t happen again,” Crum mumbled. “I’ll go to her house.”

  “Can’t you find a nice, older woman?” I flinched, realizing I sounded like my brother when he was trying to sell Mother on a new boyfriend.

  “Yeah… but… they don’t want to… you know.” He tried, but couldn’t maintain eye contact.

  “The last couple of your women friends have been mental-hospital crazy.” I hadn’t had a headache in a long time, but I did now. “They may be good in bed, or whatever it is you require, but there’s a price to pay. I can give you a list of men who had to learn the hard way.”

  Starletta flounced out the door in bright-yellow, patent leather, four-inch heels with her flowery dress gaping open in the front, not having bothered with a single button. She stood on tiptoes, wrapped her arms around Crum’s neck, and laid on a wet, smoochy kiss, complete with sound effects.

  “Get going. Before I get sick on you.”

  She gave me the finger and slithered down the driveway.
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  Chapter 34

  It had been over a week, and calling Cruz Campion, Mac’s attorney, was a dead end. His assistant, Susie, put me on hold and never came back. I took it to mean mind my own business, though in the past, she usually just blurted that out. It wasn’t like I tried to weasel details about the case out of her; I’d stopped doing that when I realized it only raised her irritation level and made getting ahold of Cruz more difficult.

  My phone rang, and Creole’s face smiled back at me. Putting my coffee cup down, I picked up the phone, sliding onto a stool at the island. “Mac’s got a bond hearing this morning,” Creole said.

  “Brick just got released from the hospital.” I was worried about the bail issue since he was still recuperating.

  “Cruz’s got it covered or he wouldn’t have requested the hearing. I’ve never seen him go to court without a bondsman sitting in the front row. Fingers crossed he gets a friendly judge. It will just be a matter of how much the bail is set for. She’ll get it since most of the evidence corroborates her story.”

  “I’ll have to do something really nice for you for calling me with the information so I wouldn’t worry.”

  He unleashed a rumbling laugh that never failed to send tingles up my spine. “This weekend—you and me, we’ll hide out, no phones, and do nothing.”

  I sighed. “Looking forward to that.”

  “Mac’s house is no longer considered a crime scene, but I don’t recommend that she go back there until they catch the real killer. If you have an open cottage, you might want to put a hold on it for her.”

  “If I don’t have any openings, I can make one. That would brighten my day.” I laughed. “Stomping over there and kicking a few tenants to the curb.”

  “If it weren’t for you, a couple of them would have to live on the beach; no one else would rent to them, or at least, not for long.” He chuckled. “I’ll see you later.”

  I heard a male voice in the background shouting his name and knew it was back to business. I smiled, setting the phone on the counter.