Lottery in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 11)

by Deborah Brown

  “Plan a family dinner,” Fab suggested. “Have it in a restaurant to minimize any scenes, unless we all get drunk. Phil can ride with Didier and I, and Brad can take her home.”

  I couldn’t believe Fab was being so helpful.

  Phil also looked surprised.

  “This might work out,” Fab said. “Maybe not true love but friends. You’re not certifiable, the family already loves you, and you’re damn sexy.”

  “Couldn’t you just set us up in the normal way, both parties knowing ahead of time?” Phil asked.

  “You’re right.” I smiled. “I’ll plant the idea next time I see him.”

  “That was too easy.” Phil stared me down.

  I kept my smile firmly in place.

  Phil’s phone rang. She looked at the screen. “I need to take this. It’s about Mr. Naples.” She answered, “What did you get?”

  Fab tapped her index finger on her phone, indicating for her to put it on speaker. Phil frowned in response, then grabbed a pen and wrote on a napkin, pushing it across the table.

  Fab nodded.

  “Good job. Text me the pictures.” Phil disconnected. “That’s the address of the hangar.” She pointed to the napkin. “My guy checked the place out. It’s an old private airport used by locals and a couple of small airlines; all locked up, and he couldn’t see inside. There’s no one around to question about it.”

  “Great, another trip to Naples,” I grumbled.

  “The sooner we get this done the better. Brick’s making a nuisance of himself. Had to tell him if he texted me one more time, I’d quit. I did promise that I’d call as soon as I got any info. Forward me a copy of the pics.” Fab got up, taking her phone out of her pocket, and went over to the rail.

  “The lighthouse is yours. Don’t worry about Fab. By this afternoon, she’ll agree without any urging from me.” It wasn’t like she had any plans to use it, now or ever. “Wait until Mother hears that you’re interested in number one son.”

  Phil faded out for a moment. “I think your Mother likes me.”

  “Of course she does.”

  Fab got back into her seat. “Told Brick we’d leave early tomorrow. How much is the rent on the lighthouse?”

  “How about a trade for services?” I suggested. “It’s not like it’s costing either of us to have it sitting there. The block was willed to me with the express caveat that I wouldn’t succumb and sell out to a condo development. I’ve said no to developers so many times, they’ve stopped calling.”

  “On the jobs for my clients, you get paid,” Fab told her. “You tell us how much, Madison keeps track of the bookkeeping, and you’ll get cash.”

  “You surprise me,” I said to Fab. “In a good way.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  My phone rang. I looked down, and Phil’s face flashed on the screen.

  “I’ve got an update for you,” Phil said after hellos were exchanged. “Are you sitting down?

  “Do I need to be?” I claimed a bar stool, elbows on the counter top.

  “I’ve got an update on Pamela.”

  By the time she finished, I had a headache threatening.

  “Thank you for following up.” I disconnected and rubbed my temples.

  I punched in Brad’s number; after incessant ringing, the call went to voicemail. Fine!

  My next call went to Didier. He answered on the second ring. “Cherie.”

  “I’m looking for Brad.”

  “You just missed him. He left for lunch, mentioned going to The Swamp Shack.”

  I thanked him and ran upstairs, changing into a knee-length black sundress and low-heeled black sandals. Going back downstairs, I scribbled a note and left it on the kitchen counter. Fab would see it when she woke up from her nap by the pool. I grabbed my purse and raced to the SUV.

  Traffic was light. I cut across the highway and down to the docks. The Swamp Shack was Tarpon Cove’s newest restaurant, having opened in the updated section of the docks to rave reviews about the food.

  My stomach was aflutter as I pulled into the parking lot, finding a spot next to my brother’s SUV. I’d decided on the way over that if he wasn’t alone, I’d wait for him in the bar. A small voice suggested that I wait until later, but he’d made being elusive an art form as of late.

  I walked up the ramp and couldn’t be sure who saw who first, me or Brad and Pamela. So much for sitting at the bar; I could hardly do that now that they’d spotted me. I waved and headed straight to their table on the outside patio overlooking the water.

  Brad frowned and stood, pulling out a chair. “Are you meeting someone?” His chilly tone let me know how annoyed he was at running into me.

  I acknowledged Pamela with a nod. “I’m here to talk to you.”

  “It must be important.” His eyes narrowed.

  The waiter asked for my drink order. “Margarita, please.”

  Brad groaned.

  “If you don’t mind,” Pamela spoke up. “This is a romantic lunch for two, not three.”

  “Now is the perfect time.” I knew it wasn’t, but I’d be damned if I’d let myself be brushed off by Pammy. “I’ve just received a report about you, Pamela.” My eyes bored into hers; then I turned my head towards Brad. “I thought it in your best interest to hear the findings ASAP.”

  “You ran another background check,” Brad ground out. “This isn’t the place to air dirty laundry.”

  The waiter delivered my drink. Brad and Pamela must have signaled for refills, as he set down glasses in front of them as well.

  “It’s the perfect place. Less likelihood of creating a scene. Right, Pammy?” I pasted a phony smile on my face.

  “Brad won’t say it, but I will: get lost.” Her lips pulled tight.

  “You’re right; he’d never be so rude.”

  “I want you to finish your drink, and we’ll talk about whatever it is later.” Brad pushed my glass closer.

  I took a long drink. “You need to be careful of this woman. Ask her last boyfriend, an NFL football player. She came close to ruining his life and ending his career; he damn near ended up in jail.”

  I heard Pamela hiss. The facts coming back to haunt her didn’t sit well. Phil was too good at her job. I knew everything she told me in the phone call had been triple-checked and was true.

  “He made the mistake of breaking up with her, and within an hour she filed assault charges. He was immediately suspended from the team. The police investigated, but they couldn’t find any corroborating evidence, not even a mark on her, and no other woman, not even his ex-wife, had anything bad to say. The district attorney declined to press charges. What did she do then? She sued him, but the judge threw the case out. How often does that happen—almost never? He’s still working to get his reputation back.”

  “That doesn’t mean she lied,” Brad defended her.

  “The ex before the football player, his house burned down shortly after their breakup. To this day, she remains the only suspect.”

  “I didn’t…” Pamela stammered. “You’re distorting the facts.” She grabbed Brad’s hand.

  “Poor Pammy,” I gushed.

  “Enough. Pamela and I will discuss this later,” Brad said.

  “You’re going to give her a pass, aren’t you?” It infuriated me when he looked away. “I have one more thing to say, and then I’m leaving.”

  “Stop. Her,” Pamela implored.

  “My brother has a huge heart, and it’s wasted on you.”

  “Bitch,” she hissed and downed her wine.

  “Pamela worked for a veteran’s organization, raising money, until about two months ago, when they fired her for embezzlement. She worked there for several years, and until now, they hadn’t questioned that ninety percent of the money raised went to expenses. Her expenses. She’s currently under investigation by the Feds.”

  “Is it true?” Brad asked without emotion.

  Pamela looked down, appearing to compose herself, and said nothing.

&nbs
p; “Before you deny it, Brad can read about it online. It’s all there in various news reports; even made the sports pages.”

  Pamela stood and threw the contents of her water glass in my face.

  Patrons at a nearby table gasped.

  As she turned to leave, I said, “Anything happens to my brother, and I’ll hunt you down.”

  “Was that necessary?” Brad asked, ice in his voice.

  “What? Jail, arson, thievery… that’s some resume for a girlfriend. Pardon me for looking out for you.” I shoved my chair back. “Personally, given what I’ve seen of her, I say good riddance.”

  A man looking vaguely familiar appeared at the table, tall enough that if I had to stare for long, I’d get a crick in my neck.

  “James Bordello,” Brad introduced him, waving him to take a seat.

  “Madison, I presume.” His grey eyes, dark and dangerous, bored right through me. “You’re the one who ran off Richards. I should thank you; your brother and I are going to do some business.”

  A snotty reply of, “That’s nice,” sat on the tip of my tongue, but I managed to bite it back. He’d apparently forgotten that we’d already met – fine with me.

  “Branching out?” I asked.

  “Nothing’s been inked,” Brad said but didn’t bother to look at me.

  I stood. “Nice to meet you.” I briefly glanced at James.

  “Wait.” Brad held out his hand. “Not a word about what happened here today – to anyone.”

  “Swear.” I held out my pinkie finger.

  Brad ignored the gesture.

  “You’d rather I’d let her burn down the condo with you in it?”

  “Of course not. Thank you.”

  “I wish it looked like you meant that.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “I’m sick of this drive already; I want sore-butt pay,” I whined, twisting around in the seat. We’d finally made it to Naples, the abundance of traffic slowing Fab’s lead foot.

  “Don’t make me pull over.”

  “Go ahead.” I smirked. “Preferably in front of a coffee joint.”

  “It’s an easy job—snoop around, take some pictures, and we’ll be back on the highway, headed home to collect our pay.”

  “I hope you didn’t jinx us. Remember, this is a Brick job. Beware of bullets.” I sighed. Brick’s jobs were never that easy.

  “First, we do a drive-by, case the joint. It’s a small municipal airport with a private road for an entrance. Looked at some pictures on the internet, and it doesn’t appear guarded. The hangars are privately owned and located on the back side of the property.”

  “You need to stay in touch,” I admonished. “I don’t want to have to smash through doors, guns blazing.”

  “You’ve been watching too much television.”

  “Make the next left. It’s a long driveway. I looked at the same pictures. Veer to the right and follow the road to the end. Another right. We’re there.” I crossed my fingers. “Hopefully.”

  I got my last glimpse of the sun flickering on the water off the Gulf as Fab followed my directions.

  After making the last turn, Fab hit the brakes. “If I’m not mistaken, the hangar we’re looking for is surrounded by cars. Law enforcement, all of them.”

  “Forget casing the joint.” I tugged on her arm. “Turn around, now, and hopefully, we won’t attract any attention.”

  “Don’t you want to know what’s going on?” Fab asked, wide-eyed.

  “I flat-ass don’t care. Now turn around.”

  “Yeesh. Calm down.” Fab ignored me and continued slowly around the circle. “I’ll head to the exit; keep your eyes peeled for a spot nearby to watch and take a few pictures. No place here.” She scanned the property. “We can’t use any of the other hangars; they’re locked up and no one’s around.”

  I breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Judging by the two large flatbeds, Mr. Kasey isn’t having a good day if he’s inside. Wonder what he did to invite such a large turnout?”

  “We can’t be sure Kasey is involved.”

  “I can. There’s a ‘C’ on the side of the building, and it says here—” I pointed to the note Phil had written on the napkin. “Building C.”

  “I need a hangar of my own. Closer to home.”

  “In Tarpon, it’s called an old building, and there are plenty of those around. What would you do, sit around inside, admiring the dirt and spiders? Everyone in town would be convinced you were running something illegal.”

  “I might have made a small error in judgment,” Fab said, eyes glued to the rearview mirror.

  “I don’t want to know.” I tried not to yell, but the words came out louder than I wanted.

  “Take a deep breath.” Fab slowed, waiting for the security fence to open so we could make our getaway. “There’s a black sedan that pulled out of the parking lot and is headed this way.”

  “Turn here.” I pointed. “The road winds in the opposite direction, but it’s a faster way to the Interstate. I can’t take another trip across the Everglades.”

  Fab drove with one eye on the road and the other on her side mirror. The car behind us was rapidly approaching. Two local police cars coming in the opposite direction made u-turns and flipped their lights on.

  “That didn’t take long,” Fab said. She sounded impressed.

  “I just said a little prayer that this is somehow a big mistake and we’re not going to be arrested for something we know nothing about.” I unlatched the glove box and pulled out the insurance card, sticking it under my thigh.

  I shoved my feet back into the tan flat sandal slip-ons that I’d brought along to go with the white scoop-neck spaghetti-strapped dress I’d worn. Fab was wearing a backless black sundress.

  Fab pulled onto the grassy side strip, rolled down the window, and left the engine running. It was too hot to be without air conditioning. She kept her eyes glued to the rearview mirror. “Wonder what’s taking so long. One officer got out of each car, and they’re huddled together.”

  I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. After a few seconds, I said, “I’m calling Creole.” It went to voicemail. I tapped out a text: Pulled over by locals outside Naples airport. “He knows we drove over here today and was fine with it, since we’re only here to gather information, with the added plus that Brick volunteered to do the dirty work.”

  “Got the same pep talk from Didier. I wonder who called who?” Fab tapped her fingers impatiently. “I wish I could see better. The dark tint on these windows is sometimes a hindrance, but usually only at night, when you have to roll down the window to back up with a bit of assurance that you won’t run into anything.” Fab reached for her purse, which was wedged between the side of the seat and the door. “I’m handing over my License to Carry, following the law for once.”

  Creole texted back, Call me when you’re back on the highway.

  “Finally,” Fab said, clearly exasperated. “Two of them are headed this way; one cut over to your side.”

  “License and insurance.” The officer stuck his head in the window, taking a look around the interior. “Shut off the engine.”

  Thanks to Fab, the exterior and interior were always spotless. Even if we had anything to hide, it wouldn’t be out in the open.

  My anxiety ratcheted up a notch when the other officer knocked on my window. I powered it down.

  “ID,” he demanded grumpily.

  I reached between my legs and produced my driver’s and carry licenses from my purse, handing them to the officer and then placing my hands on the dashboard. I noticed that Fab put hers at ten and two on the steering wheel. I heard her say, “We currently have them on our persons. How would you like us to proceed?” I repeated that to my officer.

  “Where is it?” Fab’s officer asked.

  Fab responded, “Inner thigh.”

  “Me too,” I said to mine. “I mean, inner thigh.”

  “Both of you out,” the one on Fab’s side barked. “Hands in plain sig
ht.”

  Both officers had their guns out.

  I clutched the side of the door and stepped down.

  “One hand in the air. With the other, remove your gun and place it on the ground.”

  I lifted my dress and followed his instructions, making sure that he could see what I was doing and there’d be no misunderstandings. He directed me farther down the grass strip and had me stand away from my SUV and a foot from the front of the first police cruiser. It surprised me when the other cop directed Fab to stand not far from me.

  “Can I ask why we got stopped?” I asked. “I didn’t think we were speeding.”

  “Don’t go anywhere,” one officer instructed and followed his partner back to the car. The third one continued to lean against the front of his car.

  “I should’ve taken your advice and turned around.”

  I clutched my chest. “Could you repeat that? Several times would make me happy.”

  Whatever the officers were doing, it was taking a damn long time. I shifted from one foot to the other and stretched a couple of times. I bent over and inspected the grass for bugs, coming face to face with a grasshopper and jumping back.

  “You want me to step on it?”

  “I do not. Me being a sissy is not a reason to kill it.”

  “Finally,” Fab whispered.

  The third cop sauntered up and, with no introduction, jumped into his first question. “What were you two doing in a restricted area without the necessary clearance?” He directed his question to Fab, including me with a flick of his eyes.

  “I’m a licensed PI and was here to locate a missing car. Drove in, out, no stopping.” She waved in my direction. “She came along for the ride.”

  “You a PI?” he asked me.

  I shook my head. “Working on getting my license.” Since Brick and I were always on the outs, I had given up on that goal, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “What kind of car? And what if you found it?” he asked.

  “Custom red Ferrari. I have a picture on my phone,” Fab answered. “I had instructions to call my client, and he’d make arrangements for a pickup.”