Fab turned her nose up at the phone and answered in French—that would confuse a local. I fully expected the person to hang up and call back. She hit the speaker. I looked around, happy that we were the only ones on the deck at Jake’s.
“Yeah, bone jourie yourself. Is this Madison Westin?”
I didn’t recognize the voice, which was nasally with a twang, and shook my head.
“Yes, now what do you want? Make it fast or I’m hanging up,” Fab growled into the phone.
I covered my mouth so I wouldn’t laugh.
“This is Rita from Dawg’s, you said to call if I had information on Eddie’s murder. I called once before and you didn’t call back. I know who did it, but if I tell you I need money to get out of town,” she said in a rush.
“Where did you get the information?” Fab asked, a look of disbelief on her face. “How do we know you’re selling reliable information?”
“A couple of locals were in last night and I overheard them talking about the murder. It’s all anyone wants to talk about down on the docks. No one’s saying anything; they don’t want the area crawling with cops.” Her voice was a whisper, though there was no noise in the background.
I knew that to be true. If the authorities even looked as if they were headed to the dock area, it instantly became a ghost yard. When possible, they disappeared aboard their boats.
“What is it you want?” Fab asked her.
“Ten thousand in cash,” she blurted.
“You’re crazy, too,” Fab yelled. “It’s not like Jami’s family. Even rewards for professional snitches don’t pay that high.”
I got up and closed the deck doors. Afternoons were always quiet in the bar in the lull before the folks showed up who drink their dinner.
“I can’t stay in the Cove. If anyone finds out, I’m dead. Eddie had connections that would shut me up. They look out for their own, even piddly delivery boys.”
“If what you say is true, we’ll help you to get out of town. Your price better be negotiable.” Fab shook her head at me.
After a long pause Rita said, “I get off at six, meet me under the overpass, in the back corner of the lot.”
“You better not be wasting our time.” Fab ended the call. “I don’t think she knows anything, she just wants money.”
I looked at my empty margarita glass and sighed, taking the last sip. “There were rumors about Edsel’s drug connections, but we couldn’t find a link to anyone major. The general consensus of his death around town was good riddance. Creole said he never made Drug Enforcement radar.”
“I don’t like Rita,” Fab said over the top of her water bottle. “She’s greedy. And I hate that bar. I say we blow off this meeting.”
“I’d like to hear what she has to say. I’ll tell her upfront I’m not meeting her payment demand.”
Fab stood up. “Let’s go home. We’ve got time for a swim.”
* * *
“Looks like our friend, Rita, is kicked back drinking a beer.” Fab pointed to the back of the parking lot. “Promise me this is the last time we come to this dump.”
I slid my phone out of my pocket and texted Creole. Fab looked at me and snickered.
“I keep remembering that Jami told me she saw the dead body––only she said, ‘we.’” I recalled her jailhouse confession, the only time I’d seen her since her arrest. She sent a note to put her final paycheck in her jail account.
“Did you ever find out why the jail visit got cut short?”
“Mac found out a chick slug-fest broke out.”
“Do you think Jami knows who killed Edsel and has kept quiet?” Fab mused. “Who risks life in jail for anyone?”
“It would have to be some scurve worse than Edsel.” I waved to Rita, who stood next to an old white van. “I want to be upfront before we get started.”
Fab stood back as I approached Rita.
She quirked her head and stared at me. “You sure sound different on the phone.”
“I’ve heard that before.” I half-smiled. “We need to negotiate the price. Any information needs to be verified before cash exchanges hands. I’m not paying your price, but I can connect you with a bartender job in another state. I know someone who’s always looking for experienced employees.” I noticed her hands shook, maybe she was afraid; when I first got out of the SUV she seemed more confident, intense.
“You’re probably a nice person but too smart for your own good.” She withdrew a semi-automatic from the back of her jeans.
I knew guns and recognized it as a Ruger LC9. She had an impressive piece of hardware, but did she know how to use it? At this close range, I suppose it didn’t matter.
“I couldn’t take the chance you’d figure it all out and this place would be swarming with cops.” She waved the muzzle. “Be cool and call your friend over. Warn her and she’ll be dead.”
“Leave her out of this.” I moved my hand to the back of my thigh, making a gun with my fingers, moving it around, hoping to catch Fab’s attention.
Rita stepped forward. “Fine, she goes first.”
“Run, Fab,” I screamed.
Rita jammed her gun in my face. “Go ahead and run, skinny bitch,” she yelled to Fab. “I’ll kill your friend here.”
“If this is about money, you can have what you want.” We’d have to make a bank run and that would buy time. I liked our odds, two against one. We both had guns and had stared down death before and won. Times like these call for a help button on my phone but it sat on the dashboard.
Fab marched over the gravel, hands in the air, shoulder height, in full arrogance, wearing her creepy smile that made the hair tingle on the back of my neck––and I knew her. Poor Rita, Fab was out of patience.
“I know she can be annoying.” Fab flung her hand in my direction. “Let’s make a deal, no shots fired; no one leaves in a body bag. Happy, happy all around.”
Rita motioned Fab to stand next to me. If we got close enough, I could take Fab’s gun from her waistband and kill Rita. Normally, I shot to disarm; but in this case, I’d make an exception.
“Nothing personal––I just want to enjoy the time I have left.” Rita looked indecisive, which worked in our favor.
I snorted and Fab glared at me as though reminding me of my manners in this situation. “Can you at least tell us why you want to kill us?” I asked.
“I didn’t mean to bash Eddie’s head in, but when I told him about my HIV diagnosis, he laughed. Then he admitted he had the disease and deliberately slept around with no protection, spreading the love, he called it. I lost my mind. The next thing I know, I picked up the shovel and delivered the first bash to the back of his head and heard a crunching noise.” She smiled. “He went down face first. I didn’t plan to hit him but his stupid moaning reminded me of my test results. I kept hitting him until my arms got tired.”
Fab and I looked at each other wide-eyed. We didn’t see this coming.
“You were willing to let an innocent person rot in jail with the high probability that she’d get the death penalty?” I struggled to control my temper.
“You don’t understand. Jami and I are friends, but I saw Eddie first and we’d been together a long time then she came in, hanging all over him. We were getting married. He didn’t even break up with me––just showed up with her,” she whined, her hand shaking. “Besides, I planned to give a full confession right before I died.”
“It’s one thing to be in jail for something you did, but to know you’re innocent and have no hope to get out––” I said in disgust. “Do you know how hard it is to get a conviction overturned? With no proof other than your statement, they’d never reopen the case.”
A couple of cars and trucks had pulled into the parking lot while we stood there, but no one even looked our way; they headed straight into the bar. If they had, all they would see is three women talking.
“Did you lure Edsel to the shed?” Fab asked.
“I got lucky, drove by and saw his crappy
car parked in front, figured he lived there. He was easy to locate, yelling, throwing stuff around. Turns out he was looking for stuff to pawn, made him mad he couldn’t get anything more than yard tools. If he got lucky, he knew they’d only bring about twenty bucks.”
Rita wailed, a stray tear on her cheek. “He knew. He knew he was sick and didn’t say anything, he wanted revenge. Mad that he contracted it in prison, all because of a wrongful conviction, his girlfriend crying rape when it wasn’t. Then he told me he never had any intention of marrying me, he used it as incentive so I’d never say no to kinky sex.”
“I know you and Jami were at the shed after you killed him, how did that happen?” I didn’t know that––but it wasn’t much of a leap.
“I had already left when I saw her peddling to The Cottages, so I doubled back. I snuck up behind her. She didn’t even scream when she saw him. I bumped her hard hoping she’d fall on him but all she got was blood on the bottom of her shoe. Turns out it was enough. We agreed not to tell anyone what we found and let the police figure it out.”
What did women see in him? Unattractive, creepy personality, abusive, his life going nowhere…
Fab spoke up. “You’re not going to get away with double murder. Edsel was a dirtball, so a prosecutor might offer you a reduced sentence. If you’ve got information about illegal dealings, use it to sweeten the deal.”
“You won’t know a moment’s peace, Rita. My boyfriend will track my killer––you—until he brings you to justice,” I told her. “And when he does, he has connections to make your prison stay a frightening, living hell.”
“Do you really want to spend life on the run?” Fab asked. “I’ve heard the lifestyle sucks, always looking over your shoulder.”
“Since the first day you two showed up here with your nosey questions, I’ve been working on my plan. I’ll get away with it,” she wheezed. “Get in the van.” She slid back the door, motioning with her gun. “I’ve got this all figured out.”
“Do you know how hard it is to dispose of two bodies that won’t lead a trail right back to you?” I inched closer to Fab. Her gun would be easier to draw than my own.
Getting in the truck was a bad idea. We’d be dead before she closed the door.
“I’m going to take you two to the dump,” Rita said, as though the choice was obvious and we were stupid not to know.
Great. Free cremation. Locally, all trash got dumped into a cement building before being scooped into the incinerator with a skip-loader.
“I’m not getting in,” I told her. “You’re going to work for this kill. Good luck dragging our bodies into your ratty van by yourself. I may be dead, but hopefully you’ll live long enough to fry—zzzz.” I imitated the sound of electricity.
Rita flinched, then said, “You’ll get in because if you don’t I’ll shoot your friend right in front of you.”
Fab hit my thigh, a head nod to the front of the van. Rita and I heard the crunch of gravel at the same time, but only she turned, giving us just enough time to draw our guns. Creole stepped out from the opposite side in his cop uniform––blue jeans—holding a Glock, and caught her by surprise. She hesitated in pulling the trigger. He shot her in the upper shoulder before she screamed and dropped her gun to the ground.
In full fury, blue eyes blazing, he jerked her to a standing position, ignoring her screams, and pushed her face against the van, snapping the cuffs on her wrists.
She continued to scream a litany of variations of the “F” word at the top of her lungs. It drew some lookers but no one stepped forward to help.
Creole pushed her face down on the floor in the back of her van. “If you move, you’ll be sorry,” he barked.
He frowned down at me. With a gentle finger under my chin, he lifted my eyes to his and said, “Good thing I was in the area. I’ll see you later.” He wrapped his arms around me and crushed me to his chest, hugging me until I groaned.
A Tarpon Cove sheriff car blew into the driveway and skidded to a stop. Kevin got out, and it surprised me he showed up solo, no partner in tow. He and Creole nodded to one another and Creole disappeared back the way he came.
Fab put her arm around me. “You okay?”
I leaned on her. “We should retire while we’re both still alive.”
Kevin nodded to us and walked over to Rita, yanked her to her feet, and read her rights. Seconds later, two more sheriff cars arrived and a paramedic van. Kevin waited for a stretcher, and the medics strapped her down. “Either of you need medical attention?”
“Take her,” Fab told him, and pointed to Rita.
Kevin slammed the door and the van took off. “I need to ask you some questions for my report.”
It was the first time Kevin showed any sympathy to either one of us in yet another shooting situation, and there were no unfunny comments about dead people. It was evident that Creole had set him straight that he wasn’t a drug-dealing felon and was actually working on the same side as Kevin.
“You won’t have to worry about how to tell Didier about our night.” I nudged Fab.
Fab looked confused.
I inclined my head to the Mercedes that just flew into the driveway.
“I’m liking your boyfriend more and more,” Fab said, and ran to meet Didier who jumped out of the car, whirling Fab off her feet and into his arms.
Chapter 35
My eyes fluttered open, the morning sunshine streaming through the small windows, announcing a beautiful day. Lying in the crumpled sheets from the night before, I stretched against Creole’s hard body, snuggling within his arms, my head on his chest. I lay there listening to the rise and fall of his breath, his heart beat pulsing in my ear.
Fab and I had to give several statements to law enforcement regarding the new developments in Edsel Winer’s case, ending up in the district attorney’s office. I blew out a big sigh of relief when I found out that Ana Sigga hadn’t been assigned the case, so the questioning went fast and there was no drama. It would take a few days for Jami to be released, only after detectives verified everything we told them about the murder. Rita wasn’t cooperating, saying she was the victim and that we had tried to kidnap her and she only defended herself.
The next day, it caught me off guard when Fab and Didier had their bags packed by the door and left saying, “See you soon.”
It wasn’t until late the next afternoon that Creole finally burst through the door, sweeping me off my feet. Once upstairs, he tossed me onto the bed and climbed on top, giving me a hot, bruising kiss and, to my dismay, releasing me just as quickly.
“Put on that black wrap dress I like and pack an overnight bag, I have a surprise for you.” He smacked my butt.
“The only surprises I like are the ones I figure out in advance,” I giggled, and rolled away from his outstretched hand.
He tapped his watch. “Be ready in fifteen minutes or I’m leaving without you.”
I sulked. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?”
He cupped my face between his hands. “Probably not. Now hurry up.” He brushed my lips with his.
It was a warm evening as we set off going south down the Overseas Highway to our unknown destination––unknown to me, anyway. Creole put the little-used convertible top down on the Hummer. I scooted next to him, my head on his shoulder, and he put his arm around me and held me tight, the salty wind blowing in our faces. It didn’t take long to feel fairly certain we were headed to Key West, a very romantic place for us, and I hoped this time wouldn’t be any different.
To my disappointment, he veered off the highway at Stock Island, several miles north of Key West. We wound through the streets to the crystal waters of the Atlantic side, pulling into the exclusive members-only Harbour Club. Creole rolled down the window and pulled a pass from his pocket.
“You know I could’ve snuck us in.” I smiled at him.
The guard nodded and motioned him to a reserved parking space.
“I’m going to see to it that you enjoy every m
inute,” he growled in my ear, and ran his teeth down the side of my neck, nipping the top of my shoulder.
Creole opened the door and handed the keys to the valet, clicking the locks for the bags. He reached in and pulled me across the seat and out the driver’s side.
Our two bags left on a cart ahead of us. Creole gave me a quick kiss, took my hand in his, and led me down to the dock, stopping at the steps of a pristine three-story white yacht. A member of the crew stood waiting.
“Your luggage has been brought on board and stowed in your stateroom.” The man in crisp white shorts and shirt introduced himself as LaRouche.
I tried not to openly gawk, but I’d never seen a boat this size up close. I looked at Creole in shock and caught the nervous laughter as it was gurgling up.
“I’d be happy with a roll in the sand,” I whispered, before removing my shoes and climbing the stairs.
“You’re so easy to please. You never complain about my erratic hours. I wasn’t passing on having five days with you on a luxury yacht.”
LaRouche ushered us through the salon and to the stern, where a table for four had been set for dinner. Fab and Didier were draped over one another on the couch in a serious make out session, their legs wrapped around each other.
“Fabiana Merceau,” I grouched, imitating Mother. “Where are your manners?”
They both jumped, and when she realized it wasn’t Mother, she squealed and ran over, hugging me. “Isn’t this fabulous?”
Fab had on a skimpy white bathing suit under her sarong cover-up, Didier in swim trunks and a T-shirt that stretched across his chest, in a dark blue that matched his smiling eyes.
I hugged Didier and kissed his cheek. “I’m so happy you two are part of the surprise.” I blew Creole a kiss.
LaRouche appeared, holding a tray with glasses of white wine. We each helped ourselves and sat on the couch toasting the last glimpses of sun over the ocean.
Creole ran his fingers up my back, wrapping them around my hair, and pulled me close. “We have Didier to thank for the invitation.”
Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 06 - Revenge in Paradise Page 23