Casio sniffed. “You and what army? I’m not dead.”
“Well…” He snapped open his bag. “I’ve got this…” He pulled out a Ruger handgun.
“That’s so hot.” I smiled.
“I carry guns, and no one ever says that about me.” Casio frowned.
“That’s hard to believe.” I gave him an exaggerated eye roll.
Dr. A laughed. “Roll over, and I’ll take your temperature.” He motioned to Casio.
Casio shot him the middle finger. “Do you mind?” he said to me. “I’d like some privacy with my doctor.”
“Since you apparently don’t know it, this is my house. And you haven’t been forthcoming, so I’m sitting right here in the hopes of learning something.”
“Women.” Casio sniffed. “Got a big family of them; the men are outnumbered. They’re a pain, every one of them.”
The Famosa extended family was huge. They procreated in large numbers, mostly females. Casio could joke, but I knew the men in the family kept an eagle eye on every member, especially the women. Every time Brick put up a new family picture, their numbers had increased.
“What happened?” Dr. A took out his stethoscope, listening to Casio’s chest. “Breathe.” Casio did and grunted in response.
“Fell,” Casio said curtly.
Dr. A frowned over his shoulder in my direction. “You wasting my godfather’s time? He’s an old man and doesn’t need to spend his energy being jerked around.”
“Ignore him.” I tossed my head in Casio’s direction. “The last thing I want is for Casio to die or be permanently injured and it be all my fault. Does he need to go to the hospital or can he be dragged to the curb?”
Dr. A asked him a few questions and had him lift his shirt. “It’s one of those times that he looks worse than he actually is. Since you’re not on the verge of death, I recommend going to see your own doctor,” he said to Casio, then turned to me. “Do you need help dragging him out of here?”
“I can do it.” Creole stood inside the French doors, arms crossed. “What the devil are you doing here?” he asked Casio as he cut across the room and sat in the chair next to me. He raised his eyebrows at Dr. A in acknowledgement – so they had met, no need for introductions.
Made me wonder if Dr. A was part of the boys’ club that I’d once thought only included Creole, Brad, and Didier. Brad had let it slip one day that there were a couple of others but refused to give names. Supposedly, they got together to engage in grueling bike rides and runs along the beach. I’d have to broach that subject again.
“Didn’t know you and Madison were friends,” Creole said to Casio.
Casio shook his head.
“You can speak cryptically without giving out harmful information. You do it all the time.”
“In the neighborhood. Not feeling all that well. Didn’t think Red would mind me stopping by. She owes me.”
I huffed. “No, I don’t. Stop saying that.”
“You know who kicked the crap out of you?” Creole asked.
“Am I getting any good drugs out of this house call?” Casio asked Dr. A. “If not, you can leave now.”
“I’m not going anywhere; hopefully, you’ve got a good story. It’s probably lame, but I’ll make up my own mind.” Dr. A moved to the couch. “I am bound by doctor-patient confidentiality. No worries about me spreading all over town that you got your ass kicked.”
“Do you know who did it?” Creole asked.
“Not one hundred percent, but I’ve got a good idea. I’m on vacation, so you need to keep your mouth shut.”
“Got it. You’re doing something off the books, and we both know how the chief hates that. If you need backup, there’s another guy in the area that will help you out.”
Dr. A checked his watch and stood. Before snapping his bag closed, he pulled out a business card and scribbled on the back, handing it to me. “Next time you need a doctor, call me directly. Doc’s too old for this kind of stuff. He needs to concentrate on fun and that younger girlfriend of his.”
“Thanks.” I retrieved the card from his fingers and shoved it in my pocket. “I’ve got your number in my phone already.”
Dr. A gave a short wave and headed out the door.
“You need a place to stay?” Creole asked Casio.
“Just for a day or two.”
“Don’t you have a house, wife and kids to go see?” I asked.
“I show up like this, and she’ll know I’m a big liar and didn’t have a conference out of town. Once she gets an eyeful of my bruises, she’ll know what I’ve been up to, and once she’s done unloading on me, she’ll want to kill me.” Casio sat up with a grunt.
“I’ve got an empty cottage,” I offered. “You can stay there. Keep to yourself, and you’ll have your privacy.
“No, thanks. This couch is comfortable. I’ll stay here. Gives me and Creole bonding time.” Casio’s smarmy smile rattled my nerves.
“No, you won’t,” Creole said emphatically. “I’ve got a local place you can stay.” He looked at me. “And it’s not The Cottages.”
“Thank you,” I mouthed.
Creole gave Casio a hand up and helped him out the door. Before it closed, he said, “We’re going out for dinner.”
I nodded.
Chapter Nineteen
“They’re back.” I stared out the kitchen window, noticing Didier’s car parked next to Creole’s in the neighbor’s driveway across the street and Fab’s Porsche in our driveway next to my SUV.
I reached into the refrigerator, pulling out several containers that held a variety of green vegetables and fruits that I’d cleaned, piling them on the counter and reaching underneath for the blender.
“Making me something special?” Creole wore a pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt that hugged his abs. His dark hair had that slightly messy look.
“This is a big welcome back for Didier.”
“That might be premature.” He shook his finger. “You’re up to something.” He poured water into the coffee maker.
“Me?” I flashed him a wide-eyed stare. I pulled a sticky note out of my pocket and consulted it before adding the ingredients.
Creole grabbed me by the arm and pulled me tight against him, running a knuckle down my cheek and kissing me.
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” He stared down into my eyes.
“I might.” I jumped when he pinched my butt. “But I have no reason to at the moment.”
Didier appeared in the kitchen. “Good morning.” He was barefoot and wearing only sweatpants, his broad chest bare. He hadn’t combed his hair, instead leaving it tousled, a bit of scruff on his cheeks.
“Bon jurio,” I greeted with a smile.
“Please don’t butcher my native language until after I’ve had coffee,” he grumped.
“No coffee for you.” I gave him an exaggerated finger shake. “I’ve got a little something special for you.”
He crossed his arms, eyes narrowed, and stared down at me. “You’ve done enough lately.”
I blushed and turned on the blender, cutting off whatever he was saying. Within a few seconds, I had created a slimy green concoction reminiscent of one of Didier’s own.
“I’m not entirely back, but I might as well be. My clothes tend to disappear as soon as I take them off. I don’t know how Fab does it. I’ve tried to catch her in the act.”
Creole laughed at his friend’s frustration. “Just accept your fate. You’re smiling; can’t be all that bad.”
“It’s just a little rough patch.” I poured the goo into a glass and handed it to Didier with a flourish.
“I better not be missing anything,” Fab said, crossing the kitchen to stand next to Didier.
Didier took a long drink. He swallowed and choked, or the other way around; I couldn’t be sure.
“Yummy?” I asked.
In two long strides, he reached the sink and threw the rest of the drink down the drain. “What in the hell was that?�
�� he boomed.
Fab ran her finger inside the blender container, licking it off. “Ick.” She screwed up her nose. “You tried to kill my boyfriend!”
“How many times has Didier made drinks for me? I wanted to reciprocate and got this recipe off the internet.” I pushed the sticky note across the counter.
“She make anything for you?” Didier scowled at Creole.
“She loves me.” Creole smiled, pulling me to his side.
“You like green drinks,” I said indignantly. “It was made from organic ingredients from your favorite grocery store. I have the receipt. There’s not a single item in there that will hurt you. The signs at the store didn’t say anything about death, or even sickness, connected to anything I bought.”
“Did you even taste it?” Didier asked.
“Of course not.”
“Thank you for the thought, I think,” Didier said.
“Friends again?”
“That’s a lot to ask after trying to kill him,” Creole said.
I nudged him in the ribs. “I missed you both.” I blew a kiss to Fab. “I’m very happy you’re back.”
“I’m doing the cooking tonight; you’ll be safe,” Creole said. “Let’s go for a run and stop for breakfast.”
I pushed away from Creole and walked around the island to hug Didier. “The foursome is back together. It’s nice to see you first thing in the morning. In the future, I’ll let you handle all the vegetables.”
“It was terrible.” He made a retching sound. “You’re lucky you’re not mine. I’ll have to have a talk with Creole.”
“Oh no you won’t. You keep your ideas to yourself.” I still remembered a conversation during which Fab told me, stupid smile pasted on her face, that Didier used a mixture of evil methods and sweetness that made her toes curl.
Fab took a bag of fresh-ground coffee from the refrigerator. She and Didier got a special roast only obtainable at a French café they frequented. Didier prepped the espresso machine.
“What did the gravediggers want?” Creole asked. “Another job?”
I ignored Creole and faced Fab. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that Dickie called and wants us to come for a wedding. He’s worried. Every time they branch out, something goes wrong. We’re being hired to make sure everything goes smoothly.”
“A wedding!” Didier said. “That’s a good one.”
Creole snorted. “What did they really want?”
“Raul mentioned it to me, but I didn’t realize it was happening so soon.” Fab reached for two cups, and Didier filled them to the top with their special brew of muck. “I didn’t know how to tell him that the whole idea sounded ghastly, so I kept my mouth shut.”
“Really!” Didier hugged Fab to his side. She nodded and kissed his cheek.
“There’s another thing… incident… You know how stuff happens,” I said to Fab.
“Get to the point,” Fab said in exasperation.
“Something happened yesterday that you don’t know about… yet.” I went on to tell Fab and Didier about Casio’s impromptu visit.
“About Casio,” Creole said. “I got out of him that the case involved a friend and murder. Why he ended up in the vicinity is unclear; he needed help, and Madison lived close by. Told him not to bring his problems to your door or all bets were off. Also warned him that this house wasn’t available as a flop house.”
“If Casio sees you, Fab, he’ll tell Brick. So if you’re not ready to go back to work for the man, you’ll need to keep a low profile or tell Casio to keep his mouth shut. He thinks I owe him; well, he really owes me now.”
“Brick has a brother?” Didier’s mouth thinned.
“Casio’s not as big a dick as his brother,” Creole said, which fell short of an endorsement. “You definitely want him on your side if the shit hits the fan.” He poured himself another cup of coffee. “Casio did ask a bunch of questions about the murder next door. Wanted to know what we knew.”
“That’s weird,” I said. “Tarpon Cove is a long way from his usual jurisdiction up in Miami-Dade County.”
“Did you happen to mention the attempted break-ins here?” Fab asked.
Creole nodded. “I gave him the rundown, asked him to keep an eye out and not to knock unless it’s a real emergency. Told him if he withheld information that would bring harm to any of us, I’d personally kick his ass and make his current round with someone’s boots look like child’s play. He assured me that the cops had nothing new.” His cell phone pinged. “Stephen left me message; so far, nothing new.”
“Is that his real name?” Fab asked.
“You know I can’t tell you that. He likes the nickname that you two gave him.”
“Don’t forget that I can kick an ass or two.” Didier flexed his muscles. “Now that I have a carry permit, I don’t go anywhere without my trusty firearm. Unless I’m with Fab; we’ve agreed she can do the shooting.”
It was fun to have us all back together again, and if it took stealing Didier’s clothing to make it happen, then I’d be helping Fab.
Chapter Twenty
“Smirk all you want,” I said to Fab as she squealed into the parking lot of the Tropical Slumber Funeral Home, sliding into a space across from the red carpet that led into the entry. “Payback can be painful.”
“I knew that dress would look hot on you.” She smirked.
Getting out of the shower this morning, I’d wondered what to wear to a wedding for which I didn’t receive an invitation and didn’t know either the bride or the groom. I discovered that Fab had come into my bedroom while I was in the bathroom and laid out a dress that I’d never seen before on the bed. It was hot pink, with a fitted top and flared skirt that backed up her admonition that we weren’t attending a funeral. She’d also left a pair of black stilettos, which I kicked under the bed, replacing them with lower heels that I could at least stand in.
Her sleeveless, black mid-thigh sheath hugged her hips and bared her arms, showing off long legs and toned biceps.
“I changed my mind; I don’t want to go. I’ll wait in the car,” I told her, hitting the doorlocks for effect.
“I’ll drag you out.” Fab smoothed her hands down the front of her dress. “I get dirt on me in the tussle, and you owe me a new dress.”
I shook my head. “We both know you’re hot air on that score. Mother, Didier… those names ring a bell? I’d whine so long and loud that they’d wring your neck just to shut me up. If you don’t give me the details, I’ll get out and walk home.”
“It’s a wedding. We’ll have fun,” she said, barely keeping a straight face.
“Who gets married at a funeral home? I mean, eww…”
“You’ve reached your question quota. Now smile, and let’s get out.” Fab forced a wide smile.
“Mother would say, ‘That will give you wrinkles.’”
“She thinks everything gives you wrinkles.” Fab turned her head, grunting at me. “Ask the boys your questions. Something about the building being rich in history.”
The funeral home got its start as a drive-thru hot dog stand, which had since undergone major remodeling and add-ons. The locals claimed that, on humid days, the aroma of greasy food was revived.
“I don’t think it’s ever going to be designated a historic site,” I said. “Did you get a present? A cheap toaster, perhaps?”
“You make my head ache.”
“Ohh…” I pouted. “Don’t worry about the gift. I’ll take a tag off a nice big package, scratch out the names, and scribble in ours.” Her look of horror-shock forced me to bite my lip so I wouldn’t burst into laughter, cutting off this perfect moment of pranking her.
“Behave,” she said sternly and got out of the car, shutting the door with a bang.
I got out and joined her, linking my arm in hers. “Aww… don’t ruin one of our special kettle/pot moments.” Before she could strut the red carpet, I jerked on her arm. “The bride or wedding party must be here; I see two limousines parked
at the far end, a foot away from the crematorium.” I shivered. “Do you suppose the guys cleaned out one of the viewing rooms to use as a changing room?”
Fab squirmed and ignored me, stepping on the red carpet and working it like a pro all the way to the entry. “Did you remember your Glock?”
“Of course.” I patted my leg.
Fab hated it when I forgot her number one rule. The times I did leave my firearm behind always turned out to be when I needed it.
Dickie and Raul, dressed in tuxedos, greeted us as we came through the open doorway. Dickie was well over six feet, painfully thin and pale-complexion; his partner, Raul, was a foot shorter, with an athletic air, muscled and buffed. Both got called away before we could speak with them.
Cars started arriving as we crossed the threshold. The entry was decorated in white stock flowers and baby’s breath in a style that bordered on funeral arrangements, which made me wonder who did the ordering. The viewing room doors were all closed, with discreet “Do Not Disturb” signs tied to the knobs. Unless they were locked, Fab would soon have poked her head into each room.
Rather than claiming my usual plastic-slip-covered brocade chair by the door, I followed Fab as she gravitated to Raul, who had moved inside the entrance to the main room where all the services took place.
“Tell us what you want done,” I said.
Dickie, who had been speaking to the pianist, ended his conversation and joined Raul. His frown deepened, arms crossed. “A wedding.” Lost in thought, his agitation level grew.
The man didn’t like anything that interfered with his dressing-the-dead skills. I knew without a doubt that this new brainchild was courtesy of Raul, who was always on the lookout for a quirky idea to set them apart from the competition. I knew that he often encouraged Dickie to give his plans a try before vetoing them. Knowing the two as I did, they could be talked into just about anything short of illegal.
“How about some details?” I asked Raul. “Your friend here either didn’t know or wouldn’t share. I suspect the latter.” I nudged Fab.
Fab and Raul had bonded when she stayed in their house several years ago, some would say hid out. That she was abrupt and tended to rudeness never seemed to bother the man; he always smiled indulgently, even when it was aimed at him.
Lottery in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 11) Page 11