Lottery in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 11)

by Deborah Brown

  “What do I do in the interim?”

  “Channel Madeline Westin Spoon.”

  “I did that once already; do you think it will work the second time?” I asked.

  “Oh hell yes. Play hardball. They want to leave, let ’em walk; if you want to be nice, point them in the right direction. You can do this.” He blew a kiss through the phone. “Do not let them get their hands on the keys. Tarlow’s big and scary; they don’t need to know he’s a teddy bear. He’ll give them a good scare, and after that, in addition to Westmont’s call, you shouldn’t have any further problems.”

  “Foot rub for you.”

  “And a back massage.”

  I laughed. “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “Anything goes awry, I’m your first call.”

  I shoved my phone back in my pocket. Before re-joining Fab, I checked to see what the other girls were doing. The sick one had crawled to a grassy strip to fend for herself, ignored by her friends. One unzipped her shorts, squatted, and took a pee. Two others, unfazed by the display, sat on the ground, leaning against one another.

  “Are you two done with the name calling?” I asked in a bored tone. I’d heard Chrissy and Blaise’s colorful words while I was on the phone.

  They dismissed me with the briefest of glances and walked away.

  “Shall I explain the new rules to the girls?” I asked Fab. “We’ll switch roles; you’ll be good cop, I’ll be bad.”

  The corners of her lips briefly turned up.

  Fab and I rounded the car to where the girls were gathered.

  “I’ll give you the same advice you gave me: ‘Don’t shoot them,’” Fab said, loudly enough to capture their attention.

  They all stared, the three at the back of the huddle whispering to two others, then scurrying to the sides of their leaders – Chrissy and Blaise.

  “Listen up, the rules have changed,” I said, back to channeling Mother. “The police are on their way, since the lot of you seem content to commit felonies without fear of consequence. Which would be fine, if we weren’t involved. We’re not going to jail because rich girls think they can do what they want.”

  “You’re both fired,” Chrissy said, stumbling just a bit. Blaise clamped her hand on her shoulder.

  I ignored her. “Second.” I focused on Chrissy. “If you don’t have your phone on you, you might want to fetch it. Your daddy is going to want to chat with you.”

  “You’re full of it,” Chrissy snapped.

  “Am I? Call my bluff. Check your phone. I’m certain that Daddy takes the calls of Chief Harder and won’t be happy when I call the chief back and he tells your daddy you’re willfully ignoring his calls.”

  Chrissy paled a bit, which made me happy.

  Blaise whispered to Chrissy and turned to Fab. “Since you’re fired, give me the keys.” She held out her hand.

  “Come and get them.” Fab jerked her shirt out of her pants and tucked it behind her Walther.

  “You morally reprehensible bitch, threatening to kill college girls,” Blaise shouted in outrage. “You’ll never drive another limo.”

  “Thank goodness,” Fab mumbled.

  A police car whipped a u-turn across the median and pulled up behind us.

  “That would be Officer Tarlow.” I sauntered off to meet the man.

  The uniformed officer got out of his car. “Madison, nice to meet you.”

  “Creole gave you my description?”

  Tarlow shook his head. “The chief. He speaks highly of you and mentioned that you don’t do handshakes. Which endeared you to me before we’d even met. What’s going on here?”

  I related the events.

  “Stupid girls. They don’t know how badly their day could’ve ended.”

  “I tried to stress that there were no jail perks, but they weren’t listening.”

  “You got that right, and some folks come back time after time.”

  I cast a glance toward the girls; to my relief, they hadn’t moved. “They’re sauced. The one lying face down is in the worst shape but hasn’t passed out cold. Thank you for showing up.” I smiled with relief, tired of the bad cop role.

  “Don’t run off,” he teased.

  “I really want to.”

  Stern expression on his face, hand on his revolver, he strode straight over to the girls. The more sober ones straightened their spines.

  I motioned to Fab, who stood next to the back bumper. “Tarlow’s working his magic. Then we drive them to Daddy Westmont’s non-stop. If you have a return trip, I’m busy.”

  “I’d like a cigarette. Your mother says it calms her nerves.”

  “You two are a bad influence on each other.” I arched my eyebrow. “We’re almost home. Thankfully, the shots fired weren’t from our guns.” I flashed my crazy smile, mostly to get a laugh out of her, and it worked. “One more thing: you charge Daddy triple, and if he won’t pay, I’ll get it collected. For a fee, of course.”

  “Once we dump these brats off, you place an order for all our favorites from Jake’s, have it delivered, and we’ll get sloshed.”

  “I predict…” I rubbed my forehead in a circular motion.

  “So cheesy.”

  “Daddy’s on the line.” I nodded in Chrissy’s direction. “I’m certain he’ll jerk her into line.”

  * * *

  True to my prediction, the rest of the ride to Fisher Island was quiet and drama free. All of the girls dozed off. Tarlow had cleaned out all the liquor bottles, confiscated the guns, and helped the sick one back inside, where she stretched out on the floor, a pillow placed under her head. He even produced a garbage bag from the trunk of his car for her use. I thanked him and so did Fab. I handed him a business card and told him to stop by Jake’s if he was ever in the area and show it to the bartender, so they’d know he was to receive special treatment.

  For a weekday, the ferry was slower than usual, but we finally arrived at the ostentatious mansion. Rather than ask Chrissy for a security code, I fished out my own card, which opened most gates in South Florida—a gift from one of Fab’s more nefarious clients. When Mother found out, she demanded one of her own. She and her friend Jean used it to joyride in the private, keep-out neighborhoods.

  The butler walked down the steps before we came to a stop. Made me wonder if he was on door duty. He opened the side door. Bleary-eyed and pale, the girls filed out, never saying a word, leaving their passed-out friend without a backward glance.

  Chrissy paused and turned to Fab. “Unload the luggage. Leave it at the front door.” Her nose straight in the air, she led the rest of women inside.

  I counted the steps at twelve – straight up.

  Fab jerked open the back door, and bags flew through the air, landing haphazardly on the ground.

  I tried not to laugh but couldn’t help myself.

  Standing next to me, the butler glanced down, a stern expression on his face.

  “It’s been a long drive,” I said.

  “I heard,” he whispered.

  “Is Mr. Westmont at home?”

  He shook his head.

  “That’s too bad. They need a lecture that burns their ears off.”

  He smiled slightly. “Don’t worry. Chrissy will take the brunt for all of them, and I expect they will be perfectly behaved the rest of their time here.”

  “The tux must get hot.” I nodded to his uniform. “You have to wear it every day?”

  He shook his head. “The Westmonts are gone a lot. The household help runs wild then, and we dress as we want.” He was clearly amused by his own answer.

  Two men dressed in jeans strolled around the side of the house. I’d guess gardeners.

  “I assume you’re the problem solver.” When he nodded, I continued, “There’s a girl passed out in the back. They left her to rot. We don’t want her. I have to warn you, she’s already thrown up her guts several times. Don’t know if she has anything left. Probably smells.”

  He grunted.

 
“You could get the gardeners to do it. Get Cook to make them something special as a thank you, cookies or something.”

  “You’re an impertinent little thing.”

  “Thank you.” I flashed my biggest smile.

  The butler snapped his fingers at one of the gardeners. The conversation was short and out of eavesdropping range. The gardener shot him a dirty look and ran around the side of the house.

  It didn’t take long before he was back with a wheelbarrow and a pillow. The two men dragged the drunk girl out of the limo by her feet. One scooped her up and deposited her into her new ride. Then they wheeled her around the back.

  Sick people didn’t get to go through the front door?

  The butler noticed my quizzical look and said, “She’ll feel less drunk once she’s had a shower and a nap.”

  “Come on,” Fab barked. “Before I throw a match on the luggage.” Once behind the wheel, she slammed the door.

  The butler actually laughed.

  “Thank you very much.” I beamed. “Nice to meet you.” I waved and ran to jump inside before Fab left me. She gunned the engine and drove off.

  “You do make a cute chauffer,” I told Fab.

  “You should have held out for fifty IOUs.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  After returning the limo, Fab and I agreed that we’d indulge in a do-nothing day, and Didier took the afternoon off.

  It was hard not to stare as Didier came through the patio doors in navy bathing trunks, pushing his wet hair back from his face as he headed to the kitchen. I’d been swimming earlier and came inside because I knew Didier wanted to swim laps at a punishing speed. It tired me out to watch.

  “Where’s Fab?” he asked, peering around the refrigerator door as he pulled out a variety of fruit, laying it on the island.

  I jerked my thumb upward. “Would you like me to blend you up something special?”

  “No, thanks. I don’t want to die today,” he said drily.

  I clutched my chest.

  Fab swooped into the kitchen and slapped down an envelope in front of me. “Don’t wait too long to collect this; I don’t want that bastard leaving town.”

  “Fabiana!” Didier gave her a long look.

  “What happened? Do you need a hug?” I asked.

  “Skip the hug business and get my money. I jacked up the bill to include your twenty-five percent.”

  “Done. I’m proud of you. Nobody died, no matter how much they deserved it—a couple of them anyway.” I smiled at her.

  “Madison Westin,” Didier said in exasperation. “I thought Fab was the instigator.”

  “You’ve been away too long. We need to break you in again.” I picked up the envelope, flipping it over, and was disappointed it was sealed.

  “Westmont told me if I couldn’t handle young girls that I’d overhyped my skills. He holds me completely responsible. Don’t expect to hear from him again, and he said he’d be reporting back to the man who recommended me. There go two clients.” She frowned.

  “Did you happen to mention that because of you, his daughter and her underage friends didn’t end up in jail? In addition to the liquor, what about the firearms? State law says they’re ‘not old enough to purchase.’ Not to mention the mandatory jail time.”

  “He blew a gasket when I mentioned the gun antics. Told him I had a friend who’d give him a fair price for the lot of them. He had the brass ones to tell me that the gun shots never happened and if I knew what was good for me, he’d better never hear about the ‘incident’ again.”

  “That big prick,” I said with venom.

  Didier shook his head.

  “I know worse words.”

  He turned away, which I’d bet was to hide a smile; he knew a little encouragement was all it took for me to ramp up the antics.

  “I’m not only going to collect your bill, I’ll also get an assurance that Westmont never mentions your name to anyone and stops with the threats. Anything happens to you, I’ll use one of my connections down on the docks to contract his murder. I get a discount if it can be grisly, one body part at a time.” I gave her my deranged smile, which I’d been working on.

  Fab laughed, so I knew I’d improved.

  “Cherie, how do you know these people?” Didier asked.

  “Finally, we’re back to the frenchy words I like so much.”

  “Come here.” Didier held out his arms. He hugged me tight. “I should’ve said this before: thank you for always looking out for me and Fab.”

  “You’re family.” I smiled up at him. “We stick together.” After a moment, he released me and I went back to my seat.

  Didier used the lag in the conversation to turn on the blender. I twisted around on my stool, stood, opened the cupboard, and retrieved a glass. I looked over my shoulder at Fab and arched my eyebrow. She shook her head. I set the glass in front of Didier and got a smile.

  I stared out the new garden window. Turned out the owner of the glass company was a friend of Spoon’s, and my order got bumped up to a rush job. “What’s he doing here… again?”

  Before I could get to the door, it opened, and Casio filled the entryway. “Honey, I’m home,” he bellowed. Turning towards the kitchen, he flashed his signature smarmy smile.

  “There’s no ‘honey’ here, and this isn’t your home,” I said.

  Damn, the last thing I wanted was for him to know that Fab was back, or worse, that she never left town. It was just an excuse she’d used because she wasn’t ready to tell Brick to go to hell but needed a break.

  “How’s my little French morsel?” Casio wiggled his eyebrows at Fab.

  It surprised me that Casio didn’t burst into flames from the intensity of Fab’s glare.

  “So, you must be the boyfriend,” Casio said, barely acknowledging Didier. “I come with felicitations and greetings.” He threw out his arms.

  I bet you do.

  If he misinterpreted the complete silence as some sort of acceptance, he was in for a rude awakening.

  “Who beat you up?” Fab asked.

  Casio’s bruises had grown faint but were still noticeable.

  “I heard it was a girl,” I said.

  Fab and I laughed, and even Didier cracked a smile.

  Casio clenched his jaw and turned his phony charm on Fab. “Brick needs your help.” He held up his hand. “Just hear me out.”

  Fab nodded.

  “Brick has a client that ordered a 200K custom Ferrari, one of the fancy models.” Casio helped himself to beer from the refrigerator, ignoring Didier’s scowl. “The car disappeared from a locked storage unit at the back of the car lot. Brick’s got a wild hair that the client might be in on it. He’s stalled as long as he can, but the client wants the car or his deposit back, which I understand is hefty.”

  “What about his spiky haired bodyguard? Or whatever she is,” I asked.

  “Everly’s only a bodyguard. His wife would nut him if it were otherwise.” Casio grimaced. “After the third time someone tries to kill a man, he can get a little paranoid. She signed up for beck-and-call duty, so he’s ecstatic.” He stepped closer to Fab. “Brick does miss you. He’s unhappy with the way things shook out between you two.”

  “I’ll bet he does miss you,” I said to Fab. “He’s found out you’re not as replaceable as he thought.”

  “Your comments are not helpful.”

  I stuck up my middle finger.

  Didier gave me a thumbs up.

  “The pot is being sweetened.” Casio’s hand swept out in a flourish.

  All eyes turned to the window. A car hauler blocked the driveway, unloading a shiny black convertible.

  “Is that the same hauler that took the Porsche away?” I asked.

  Casio slashed his finger across his neck and focused on Fab.

  “Guess I already let the happy news out of the bag. I told Brick you’re back. I don’t need to tell him you’ve been home for…. how long now?”

  “You and your brother
can go to hell,” I said. “If she works for Brick again, it will be her decision and not because she’s strong-armed into it.”

  “Say the word.” Didier moved to Fab’s side, his arm around her shoulder. “I’ll throw him out.”

  “You and what army?” Casio hissed.

  I stepped in front of Casio. “You start anything in my house, and I’ll shoot you.”

  “What kind of car?” Fab asked.

  “Lexus. Mostly new – a bit of a problem with the title, but it all got worked out.”

  I bet that’s an interesting story.

  “It’s not a Porsche.” Fab turned up her nose. “We need a backup car?” she asked me.

  I shook my head.

  “Could you hurry it up? This really is a rush job.”

  “I need a couple of days. If it’s that big of a rush, he should call someone else,” Fab said.

  “You dispensed your greetings, and the unwanted bribe arrived; is there anything else?” I asked.

  “Can I least have another beer before you kick me out?”

  “Where are my manners?” My words dripped with sarcasm. “You know where they’re kept. And then have a seat.” I pointed to one of the stools. “In the spirit of this new friendship, I need information.”

  “What do I get out of it?” Casio shoved the stool back before sitting.

  “I’ll let Fab make up her own mind and not hound her to never say yes and sell that beautiful car out there on the black market.” I motioned for Fab and Didier to sit. “There are plenty of buyers that wouldn’t be bothered by not getting a title.”

  “This ought to be good.” Casio slammed his beer bottle on the island top.

  “You mar my countertop and you replace the whole thing.” I glared. “You’re working in the area.” I waved him off. “Don’t deny it. I’ve seen you in Tarpon maybe once or twice since I’ve lived here, but now you show up at my house twice in two weeks. I’ve had several break-ins here and no clue as to why. And a couple of men showed up, claiming to be collectors, short on details but with a friendly warning of sorts. Anything going on in the neighborhood that you’d know about and I wouldn’t?”

  Casio took a long swig of his beer. “The murder next door snagged the headlines for a while. Local cops are still running down tips. So far, none have produced anything. Kevin’s the man to ask. Isn’t he related or something?”