Lottery in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 11)

by Deborah Brown

  “His only goal in life is to arrest me for murder,” I said. “I don’t think he’d care whether I did it or not. He’s been assigned the case; at least this time, he gave up on me as a suspect early on.”

  “He’s fun to party with – always gets the girl.”

  “He’s only got one criteria, and it’s not high IQ,” I said.

  Casio arched his eyebrow.

  I held my hands under my chest.

  Didier banged his head on the counter.

  “Call the tow driver back,” Fab instructed Casio. “A Lexus is not a Porsche, and besides, if you check the driveway, you’ll see I already have one. And it’s been decided we don’t need another car.” Her nose took a scornful tilt.

  “Will you at least talk to him?” Casio asked.

  “He can call and make an appointment, like any other client,” Fab said.

  “You changed your number.”

  Fab reached in her pocket and shoved her phone across the counter to me. I picked it up and called Casio’s cell. “You have it now.”

  “One more favor.” Casio turned his attention to me, smiling. I did a double take. He resembled a cartoon worm.

  “You owe me, and no bitching and moaning when it comes time to collect. Got it?” I asked. He nodded. “You also owe Fab and Didier, though he probably wouldn’t ask.”

  “Keep me up to date on the comings and goings next door, no matter how insignificant you think they might be. Any more break-ins here, make me your first call. I don’t like being second to that bastard, Stephan.”

  Fab looked at me quizzically. “Help,” I mouthed, and she nodded.

  “You done asking for favors?” Didier asked sarcastically. “Next time, knock and wait until someone actually invites you in.”

  Casio flipped him the finger and walked out, sporting a huge smile.

  “That man has more up his dirty sleeve than he’s letting on,” Didier said in disgust.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I set the tray of coffee and the pink bakery box on the floor outside Brad’s front door. Thanks to Fab, I now had a keycard, so I could park in the underground garage and not have to worry about leaving my SUV on the street. According to the city, the area was under revitalization, but it was still an iffy neighborhood.

  To get up to the penthouse, I used the code Fab had given me to ride the elevator to the top. It annoyed me that I hadn’t gotten a key for emergencies; Brad kept putting me off with vague excuses. I should take back my house key. He knew I wouldn’t just come over and snoop. His secretive crap was annoying me.

  I’d knocked several times and got no response. That was when I set the box and coffee on the floor and pulled my lockpick out of my pocket. First, though, I tried the doorknob; it surprised me when it opened. I picked everything up and used my foot to close the door behind me, walking through the large open space, through the dining room, and into the kitchen. The view that stretched out across the Atlantic was worth the price. I immediately noticed that there weren’t any feminine touches; everything was leather, chrome, and minimalistic. Not a single dead fish on any wall.

  I could hear water running in the direction of Brad’s bathroom, so it was a good bet he was showering. Scaring him would amuse me. Unless he shot me. Even more fun if he trotted out half-naked and I could embarrass him with that story for years to come.

  I got to work and pulled plates out of the cupboard, opening a couple of drawers before locating the utensils, helping myself to paper towels, bending back the box lid, and setting it on the oblong kitchen island. He hadn’t bought stools, so we’d have to stand.

  I heard Brad’s feet slapping on the floor before he appeared around the corner from the hallway.

  Brad jumped. “What the hell?” he asked, tight-lipped. He was shirtless and wearing black suit pants that appeared tailor-made. If he wasn’t my brother, I’d give him a second look.

  I smiled and waved. “Your favorites.” I pointed to the familiar pink box.

  He held out his hand. “I want the lockpick.”

  “No! I don’t have time to stop and buy another one. Besides, I didn’t use one; you left your door unlocked.”

  “Fine.” He looked me over. “I’ll wrestle you to the floor and take it myself.” He took a step forward.

  I stepped back. “We’re not six years old. You even try that, and I promise, you’ll limp for a week.”

  “You’d maim your own brother?” His eyes snapped with irritation, but his lips curved slightly with amusement.

  “Oh stop, your coffee is getting cold. How long did you think you could blow me off before I took matters into my own hands? You’re lucky I didn’t barge in at a more inopportune time.”

  He snorted. “I don’t bring anyone here.”

  “No comment on what I think about that. I suppose sex-and-run makes for a quicker getaway when it’s not at your casa. So ungentlemanly to kick the woman out of bed with a ‘get going.’”

  “Has anyone ever done that to you?” he growled.

  “Down boy. Sweet of you, though. I don’t think about past boyfriends; the one I’ve got is a keeper. When he leaves in the middle of the night, he leaves me in a soft bed with a lip-searing kiss.”

  “Stop, you’ll ruin my appetite.” He picked a large cinnamon roll and dumped it on a plate. “You’re getting to be like Mother.” He tore off a large piece. “Sweets aren’t good for you,” he said and shoved it in his mouth.

  “You worried about a setback in toning your abs?”

  “Looking damn good, aren’t I?” He flexed his muscles. “I assume you’re here to annoy me about something. You need to hurry it up. I’ve got a meeting, and you know I hate to be late.”

  “I checked your schedule and know you have plenty of time. So why don’t we go sit in the living room, and I’ll get to my interrogation?”

  “I’m going to need another cup of coffee.” He strode moved to the opposite counter. He didn’t bother with fancy beans or some mix; he popped in a plastic cup and voila, a satisfying drink.

  “I’ll help myself to a water.” It was a great opportunity to snoop in his mammoth refrigerator. Not sure what I expected to find, but I was disappointed; it held water, a few condiments, and an assortment of European beers. On impulse, I opened the freezer side, and not a frozen food in sight. “You have any food at all?”

  “Why? I do take out. Even Mother sends me home with food.” He laughed. “You’re staring. That used to start fights as kids.”

  “You’ve got the whole dominant look going for you. Like you stepped out of one of Fab’s naughty books that I borrow on a regular basis.”

  “Don’t share those with anyone.”

  “By ‘anyone,’ I know you mean Mother, but she started borrowing the books first. Our father was a happy man for a reason. The only time he ever got really mad was if one of us made her cry.”

  “I only did that once – drag racing.”

  I gasped. “How did I never hear about that one?”

  “You’re lucky. I had to sit through Mother sobbing about how me and my posse could’ve been killed, although I believe she used a ruder term for my friends. When Dad got home, he scorched my ear drums and sentenced me to hard labor.” He grabbed a bottle of water for me and his coffee, pushed back the sliding glass door, and led me out to the patio, where we settled into chairs to enjoy the view. “I’ll ask this nicely: what do you want?”

  “Big fail on the nice part.” I made a face. “I came to get my big brother back. We’ve grown apart, and it’s your fault. Stops now.”

  He drifted off for a moment. “Getting kidnapped requires a lot of adjustment. There were times I wondered if I’d get out alive. Even went to a therapist afterwards; she was full of it, and I told her so, wanting to go back to childhood and blame our parents for my being tied up and used thirty years later.”

  “You know I’m good at other people’s problems. It’s a specialty of mine.”

  “That’s too embarrassin
g.” He ruffled my hair. “I made new friends through my business interests; they all work out like madmen. I wasn’t all that eager to sweat my ass off; it took me by surprise when it adjusted my attitude in addition to giving me new muscles.” He grinned. “Signed up for self-defense classes. The teacher realized I’d had an ‘incident’ and helped me to open up and get things off my chest. It helped that he’d been in a similar situation. He took me under his wing, kicking my butt in every class, allowing me to vent while also teaching me better survival skills.”

  “Fab and I used to go to Krav Maga classes; we need to get back to it. The added incentive for learning to kick butt is if Fab goes crazy on me, I can take her down.”

  “I could sell tickets, take bets, and make some side cash.” He laughed.

  “Mother would want in on that action. All the money would be on Fab.”

  “Fab would never throw a match, so you’d really have to KO her.”

  I winced. Knocking her out would never happen. “What’s up with the Pamela chick? She’s self-absorbed and snotty and can’t be that good in bed.”

  “Madison Westin,” he mimicked Mother. “She’s a friend and no strings.”

  “The woman is serious about you.” I poked my finger at him. “Be careful. She’s got some of those whack-job tendencies that usually attract you to the opposite sex. Julie was the exception.”

  “Julie and I have had the ‘let’s be friends’ conversation. She’s coming back for a month to hang out with Liam before shooting the new film. I know she worries, even though Liam has eight pair of eyes on everything he does. I did enjoy that Mother made you the bad guy in the whole prison-chick drama. Mother reminds him constantly that if he doesn’t behave reasonably well, Julie will yank his ass off to California. Her exact words.”

  “LaLoose, she call back?” I asked. Brad shook his head. “Any more girls that need to be run off, Fab’s available.”

  “I had ‘the talk’ with him. Boy, that was damn uncomfortable.”

  “Did you share any of your kinky bents?”

  Brad nearly spit his coffee back out. “Of course not.”

  “Gotcha.”

  He scowled.

  “Sorry I missed it. Did you happen to make a recording?” When he shook his head, I told him, “I ran a check on Richards.”

  He groaned. “Was that really necessary?”

  “You’ll have to decide.” I went on tell him that Phil had reported that he had a clean record for the past five years, but before that, he didn’t exist.

  “There’s probably a good reason. He’s damn good in real estate, would hate to cut the partnership short.”

  “You need to get some information before you and Didier sign on the dotted line.”

  “Anything else going on? I’m kicking you out soon.”

  “Not really.” I pouted. “It would be nice to do this more often, without my having to push myself on you. But don’t think I won’t.”

  He pulled me out of my chair and into a big hug. “If you’re feeling ignored again, give me a good punch. You’re great sister material. I like that you’re kick-ass yourself; just wish you didn’t use it so often. I never want to lose the close connection that we have.”

  “I love you and would do anything for you. You can call twenty-four/seven; I’m here for you. Creole won’t mind, so don’t use that as an excuse. Besides, you and Didier are his closest friends.”

  “Thanks for reminding me; it’s my turn to organize the next bike ride. We’re taking the bikes to South Miami and riding up the coast along the beach. We want to be ready to ride at sunrise.”

  “Careful of the traffic.”

  “Got that worked out. Since we’re leaving early, we’ll start by going north—no one gets up at dawn in a party town—and coming home, we’ll take it slower. There’s a hole-in-the-wall bar I want to take them to. Entertainment, ice-cold beer, and healthy food choices, if you can believe that. Ex-bodybuilder owns it.” He pushed me back into the chair.

  “Favor?” I asked. Brad looked surprised, and I continued. “Didier is going to pitch another job idea for Fab, and I’d like you to seriously consider it.” I gave him a brief rundown on the security idea.

  “I like the idea.”

  “This was fun.” I stood and hugged him. “Next family dinner is at my house. Get me a nice piece of fresh fish, and you can cook it up on that fancy grill that’s been ignored lately.”

  When the old Webber kettle rusted a hole through the bottom, Brad had volunteered to find a replacement. I’d never imagined he’d have a king-of-the-line one delivered that could cook food for a crowd… if you knew how to turn it on. That assured the guys got cooking detail.

  Chapter Thirty

  After stopping by Jake’s and watching Junker empty his truck of new finds, excited to see a couple of items that I would score for my garden, I arrived back home in the afternoon and dropped my bag in the entry, sending my flip-flops sailing one at a time into the boot tray.

  “About time you got back!” Fab shouted from the kitchen. “Food’s on the way.”

  I rubbed my ear. “I’m not hard of hearing. Whatever it is you want, you can ask in a quieter voice.”

  Didier flicked his gaze between the two of us. I knew he had a mental bet on one of us, but which one?

  “What are you doing home, Pretty Boy?” I asked, using the moniker the guys gave him when he was the new kid.

  “I’m not allowed to entertain Casio alone,” Fab said.

  “Casio? Again? I don’t think she’d shoot him, if that’s what you’re worried about.” I pointed to the blender. “If that’s tequila in there, I’ll have a double.” I licked my lips. “By food, I hope you mean enchiladas.”

  “Phil’s delivering. I placed the order right after you left.” Fab grabbed up a chip, feeding it to Didier.

  “Stop with the chip foreplay. The children are headed this way.” I pointed to Jazz and Snow. The mention of food always roused them from a nap.

  Didier winked at Fab.

  “Are we feeding him too?” I pointed to Casio, who was coming up the driveway. “Why is he here? You never got to that part.”

  Didier had the door open before Casio could pull out his lockpick. Why bother to knock, especially when he knew it annoyed everyone inside? The two men exchanged a restrained greeting. Didier went out to meet Phil in the driveway, taking her shopping bags and following her back inside.

  “Good thing I brought extra.” Phil nodded to Casio. “Madison won’t be happy – no leftovers.”

  “This family relishes their leftovers.” Didier laughed.

  Casio salivated, watching the food being spread out on the counter. “Some days, a guy gets lucky, showing up at the right time.” He fist-pumped. “I’ll take a beer.”

  Fab pulled Phil off to one side and whispered something that I’d find out about later. I glared at my partner, and she flicked her gaze to Casio and shrugged, no big deal.

  Phil dropped a manila envelope in front of me. “Paperwork.” I stood and nodded, crossing to the tall cabinet in the living room and tossing it inside.

  Fab put a plate in front of Casio. “If you’re not planning to be helpful, you better eat fast because you’re out of here.”

  I settled back on a stool, taking a long sip of my margarita, making sure to include salt. “This is your meeting.” I bowed slightly to Fab. “Spill it.”

  “You need a couple of things from me.” Fab slugged Casio in the shoulder.

  He winced. Didier didn’t bother to hide his smile.

  “You want information about the neighborhood, and the question is, why? You also want me to help your brother, which I won’t do unless I get what I want first. Keep in mind that although Brick and I have a meeting set up for the morning, that is tentative, as far as I’m concerned.” Fab intensified her glare to match Casio’s. “My partner is going along. If he doesn’t like it, he can pretend, like we often do.”

  “Your neighbor, Scotch, was the s
on of longtime family friends,” Casio growled, seething at the injustice. “He didn’t deserve to be blown away in his doorway. No one had a motive that I’ve uncovered.” He managed to calm down slightly. “Local cops believe it was random. In this neighborhood, I don’t believe it.”

  “As a lottery winner, Scotch’s picture made the papers,” I said. “Too many of them end up dead, usually at the hands of a relative or some so-called friend.”

  “Bad idea to let them print your name and picture,” Fab said.

  “I can hope someone brags.” Casio clearly didn’t like that idea. “So far, nothing. That leaves either someone who knew him and wanted the money or someone who didn’t and wanted the same thing.”

  “What about Kevin?” Didier asked. “Don’t you trade information?”

  “The case isn’t high priority to our friend Kevin. He offered to trade info, but so far, he’s contributed zip.”

  “How do we figure into one of your scenarios?” I asked. “We didn’t know Scotch. I did the friendly neighbor wave thing, exchanged a few words…” I turned to Fab, eyebrows raised.

  “After he moved in, I went over once ‘looking for the cat’ to check out the garage. Nice guy. Never went back.”

  We shot each other looks across the counter. She often chastised me for using the “missing animal” story, and here she was, out using it behind my back.

  Casio looked as though he was about to say, “Think,” but thought better of it. “Don’t you think it’s odd that your house is getting broken into—or attempted break-ins, anyway, by dumbasses—out of nowhere? No burglaries have been reported lately, another plus for the neighborhood, and your property is the only one with dead bodies connected to it. Lucky, I guess. The old timers think you two lovely girls have had a little bad luck. Followed by, ‘They haven’t been arrested.’ Don’t worry, I haven’t let it out that you two get hauled in on a regular business, and it’s just that nothing sticks.”