Lottery in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 11)

by Deborah Brown

  “Anytime and I hope you know that.”

  Fab was content to terrorize the other drivers with incessant honking. “Stop sulking,” I said. “It’s not like I beat you over the head to make you come to Jake’s with me.”

  Phil had called, excited. She’d gotten a last-minute call, her first client – a shoplifter – had been referred to her, and she needed to meet with him before his court appearance. I didn’t ask whether the thief could afford her fees. I agreed that Doodad could start work immediately. Minutes later, she called back to confirm and apologized for not being able to be there for his first day. She said Doodad felt confident he could handle it.

  “I didn’t know that Didier was going to be home early; his meeting got cancelled,” Fab brooded. She had gotten a text that he was on his way just as she got into the car and had been grumpy ever since.

  “I’m not going to remind you that I told you this would be boring.”

  “You just did.” She sniffed.

  “Call Didier and tell him to pick you up. As the owner of Jake’s, I’m not letting Mr. Doodad fend for himself. I’m staying for a while, and if all goes well, then I’ll cut my visit short.”

  Traffic on the main highway was light for a weekday; the tourist crowd hadn’t hit the roads yet. Fab pulled into Jake’s; the lunch crowd filling up the parking spaces, she curved around to the back and idled in front of the kitchen door. “I’ll meet you inside.”

  I got out and checked out the other businesses. Junker’s displayed a “closed” sign on the short walkway that led up to the door, which didn’t surprise me. The missus did a brisk business with out-of-state antique dealers, usually in the early morning, and then went home. At the lighthouse, Phil had hung up her shingle, her name in bold on it. Her car was nowhere in sight.

  As I entered the kitchen, I waved at Cook’s son, who was behind the grill. Cook was another lucky find; within minutes of being hired, he’d taken over the kitchen and had run it ever since like his own mini-empire, employing only family members. The son always had music blaring; the father preferred to watch telenovelas.

  The seats at the bar were full. I’d have to haul up a stool from my hole-in-the-wall office that only got used for storage. The jukebox blasted, drowning out an argument in progress at the pool table, and there were two people playing at the dartboard. Grabbing a stool, I dragged it down the hall and placed it at the end of the bar, sitting in front of the garnishes.

  Doodad finished washing glasses, letting them drip dry. “Hey boss, what can I get you?”

  “Bottled water,” I said. “How’s your first day going, Mr. Doo?”

  He leveled a stare. “You’re not funny.”

  “The appropriate response is to laugh.”

  Two men at the end of the bar banged their beer bottles for refills. Doodad took one look, retrieved their brand, and took it to them.

  He returned, standing in front of me. “Heard you were going to stop by, make sure I’m not screwing up too badly.”

  “Who better than me if you have questions?”

  “So far so good. Got your number on speed dial, just in case.”

  An older woman who I recognized as a regular came to a halt at the other end of the bar. She hollered out her drink order, waving cash, which she then shoved in her cleavage.

  The hand of the man to the right of me disappeared up the back of the sundress worn by the woman standing next to him, putting a flash of panties on display. It stayed up there as he jerked her close, whispering something that had her giggling.

  Doodad was in his element, joking with the customers and filling orders with efficiency. A couple came in the door and yelled out his name, waving. He clearly had everything under control. I’d finish my water and leave. That would make Fab happy.

  The man next to me stepped up his invasive hands, and I was about to suggest they get a room when he suddenly tripped backwards. Another man, who’d come up behind him unnoticed, whirled him around and fisted his shirt, sticking a gun against his forehead and pulling the trigger.

  A half-scream erupted from my mouth before I realized he hadn’t chambered a bullet. The gun only clicked. That time. The next time he pulled the trigger, his target wouldn’t be so lucky.

  “You piece of filth, putting your hands on my wife,” the man screamed.

  Doodad swung the Mossberg rifle, striking the man’s arm, and the bullet went wild, lodging in the ceiling. Two male customers jumped into the fray, manhandling the guy from behind and securing his arms. The shooter fought and kicked to no avail, screaming about the wife-poacher’s ancestors.

  “You,” Doodad bellowed from behind the bar. “Shut. It.”

  I slowly let out the breath I’d been holding.

  Fab came running down the hall, skidding to a stop. “What did I miss?”

  The woman in the middle of the drama rolled out from under the man, who’d pushed her to the floor, covering her with his body. “Honey.” She hopped to her feet and threw herself at her husband, burying her face in his chest.

  I wanted to smack the woman. I’d had a good view and knew that she’d been a willing participant and done nothing to fend off the other man’s advances. That raised the question of whether they knew one another. If not, why would he be willing to put his life on the line for her?

  One of the patrons picked up the firearm off the floor, laying it on the bar. Doodad quickly stashed it under the counter.

  Sirens could be heard in the distance; someone had called the cops.

  The man who’d almost died crawled to his feet, his face colorless. I expected him to puke and took a step back.

  “I just had my last drink… forever.” He nodded to Doodad and cut out the front door.

  “The cops are coming,” Doodad told the couple. “I wouldn’t tell you to run, but if you don’t, you’re going to jail.”

  The wife grabbed her husband’s hand, and Fab pointed towards the kitchen, lowering her voice as she gave them directions for a clean getaway.

  “You’re banned,” Doodad yelled to their retreating backs.

  “Kind of happy I don’t have brain schmoo all over me,” I said.

  Fab appeared disgusted. “I can’t believe I missed the action.”

  Doodad shook his head at Fab and turned to me. “It’s my understanding that you don’t like to call the cops. I figured since no one died… If I’m wrong, I’ll know for next time.” He wiped down the Mossberg and placed it back under the bar.

  “If asked, I don’t know what happened.” My eyes were drawn to the front entry, where Kevin and another officer had just walked in. “If I know my customers, Kevin will get fifty versions of what happened; that should keep him busy.”

  “You and the deputy are on a first-name basis?” Doodad asked, one eyebrow arched.

  “Long story. One of these visits, I’ll make it a short one for you.” I rubbed my temples, about to ask for aspirin when the bottle appeared in front of me.

  Kevin spotted me and marched over. “Heard there was a shooting.”

  “Bullet’s in the ceiling.” I pointed upward, then introduced him to Doodad.

  “We’re acquainted,” Kevin sneered. “Can’t you hire anyone without a criminal record?”

  Doodad’s fist hit the bar.

  “Mr. Wingate is a veteran.” I struggled to keep the annoyance out of my voice. “All of my employees undergo a background check, and none have records. Mr. Wingate’s littering charge got tossed.”

  Kevin rolled his eyes. “I’ll take your statement first.”

  “It’s a blur,” I hedged. “I think I’m going to be sick.” I clutched my stomach, putting my head on the bar. My plan was to run out the back door when Kevin turned his back. Dammit, I should have gone when the coast was clear.

  Fab cut Kevin off when he turned to her. “I was outside and came in when I heard the gunshot.”

  Doodad spoke up: “There was an argument; shot went off, and people went running. I had no way to sort out
who was who and stop the right person. Could’ve shot a couple of men in the back, but being my first day and all, didn’t seem like it would make a good impression.”

  Kevin’s partner interrupted, and they went off in the direction of the deck. The bar had emptied out by half.

  “Get me out of here,” I whispered to Fab.

  “If Kevin asks, I’ll tell him you went to the bathroom,” Doodad said.

  “Phil’s right. You’re a great choice for the job.” I gave Doodad a thumbs up.

  Fab grabbed my arm and dragged me down the hall and out the back, past Cook’s son, who sat on a stool, craning his neck and smiling.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Another quiet day for a change. The police hadn’t been to The Cottages or Jake’s in the last couple of days. I’d informed Creole and Didier that morning that I’d be buying the ingredients for dinner and one or both were doing the grilling. Then I went to the farmer’s market and filled a tote with vegetables; what I didn’t use for skewers, Didier could drink. On the way home, I stopped at the seafood store and, following the owner’s recommendations, chose shrimp and crab.

  Fab turned up her nose at my invitation to ride along when I made it clear I’d be driving. If I didn’t get behind the wheel once in a while, I might forget how to drive. She stayed behind to read by the pool. I rolled down both passenger windows and let the wind whip through my hair, sucking in the sea air with renewed appreciation.

  Turning the corner to my house, I drove slowly and checked out each house, but the street was deserted and quiet. I turned into the driveway and got out, opening the back and piling canvas shopping bags over my shoulder. I grabbed my phone and kicked the door shut, wobbling slightly.

  I managed to get inside the entry without my bags falling into the crook of my arm. With an added “umph,” I heaved them all onto the island, setting my keys and phone on one of the stools.

  “Hey, sister.”

  I squealed, and my eyes shot to the barrel of the Smith and Wesson pointing at the middle of my forehead. I recognized the man as one of the two who showed up a while back, trying to collect a debt I didn’t owe. At the time, either he or his friend left with a hole in their butt.

  “Who…” I stuttered, wondering who he was, then figured introductions weren’t important. “Where’s Fab?”

  “Your friend—” He waved the muzzle of his gun towards the living room. “—is tied up right now.” His beady eyes glinted at me.

  I followed his hand and saw Fab sitting on the floor, her back to the patio, trussed up with a rag in her mouth. The pony-tailed blond sidekick had his gun leveled at her head.

  “We can work out something mutually agreeable.” I reached with my other hand, the motion hidden by the countertop and bags, and hit one on my speed dial. “Please don’t shoot me,” I said loudly, saying a silent prayer that Creole heard.

  “What you got in here?” The man upended one of the bags on the counter; the other two followed. “You one of them vegetabletarians?” He shuddered.

  I did my best not to roll my eyes. “I’m Madison; this is my house. Like I said before, we can work out a deal. You need money? I can get it and you can leave us both alone.” Damn! My Glock was in my purse. Fab would kill me, assuming we got out of this alive. There was always the junk drawer, but it was just out of reach and not a good idea, since the movement would easily draw attention. Somehow, I needed to stay in the kitchen.

  “I’m Larry, that’s Barry.” He indicated the other man with his free hand. “Rhymes. Clever, huh?” I nodded. “Barry’s got dibs on killing your friend. He had to go to some quack doctor to get that bullet dug out of his ass. No anesthesia. The screaming…” He winced.

  “My ass still itches from the incision,” Barry whined.

  “That’s too bad,” I mumbled inanely. “I’m sure we can agree on a number that will compensate Barry for his pain.” I glanced over at Fab. “Take the rag out of her mouth; I know she wants to apologize.” I shot her a penetrating stare. “Everything was so hectic that day. The gun misfired, and she’s mentioned several times how sorry she is and that she wondered how you were doing.”

  Barry smacked her in the side the head with his slab-like hand, patting and combing her hair with his grimy fingers. “Make it pretty.” He jerked out the bandana and dumped it in her lap.

  Fab spit a couple of times, spitting whatever was stuck in her mouth across the room. “Sorry, dude.” She smiled seductively. Her eyes, narrowed and hard, bored into him, communicating, I’d kill you if I wasn’t tied up.

  “The two of us get out of this unscathed, meaning you don’t touch either one of us, and you can name your price,” I offered.

  “You don’t got enough money.” Larry chewed on his dirty thumbnail. “We’re getting the bucks to off you, minus a percentage since we acquired this account from our boss. But we’ve made a sweeter deal, a little extra for dumping your bodies where they’ll never be found.” He looked pleased at his last statement. “I’m thinking a quick trip to the dump and let them incinerate your bodies.”

  “Who’d pay to have us killed?” Fab asked.

  I admired her cool under some very bad odds.

  Barry poked her again, this time with a finger to the side of her head, running it down her cheek. “I didn’t give you permission to speak.” He peered down, his lips curving in a smirk.

  Fab shuddered and wrinkled her nose a couple of times, attempting to lean sideways, but she had little room to move around. Barry’s shorts and shirt were filthy, covered in stains, and appeared not to have been washed in a long time, if ever.

  Larry had apparently forgotten that I wasn’t secured, although his gun rarely wavered from my head. I was careful not to remind him by making any sudden moves. I mentally kicked myself for not having a gun on my person, but even if I had, Larry had had the element of surprise. I’d have been dead before I could get a shot off, and Fab would have been next.

  “Wasn’t that part of the problem the last time you showed up, a client who didn’t pay?” I asked. “Are you certain they’ll pay this time? We’re a sure bet. Ride with me to the bank, and you can be on the road to a new life in less than an hour.”

  “We got the goods on our Little Miss now; she screws us this time, and we’ll make sure she fries.” Barry made a sizzling sound.

  “Shut up,” Larry barked. “I say we shoot ’em here and drag ’em out to that fine set of wheels.”

  “You promised that I’d get alone time with my woman here. You’re so purty.” Barry ran his fingers along Fab’s lips. “I forgive ya for shootin’ me. But I’ve got to get me a taste, get close-like.” He grinned down, showing yellowed teeth.

  It appeared that maybe I’d meet a fast death, but Fab would suffer first, and the thought made me sick.

  “Big mistake when I shot you in the butt,” Fab ground out. She and I exchanged looks, both of us thinking, should’ve shot him dead. “You start shooting in this neighborhood,” she added, stopping just short of sneering, “and the cops will show up before you hit the corner.”

  The best thing I could do was keep them talking about murdering us and not fixated on doing it. “Can you at least tell us why this person wants us dead and why you’re willing to do the dirty work, risking a long, slow death? It doesn’t matter whether you manage to get away or end up in jail; your fate is sealed.”

  Larry half-laughed, although I could tell my words bothered him. “We’re leaving town with a pocketful of cash. Who’s going to tie us to you two? You know the odds of finding a killer with no connection to the deceased?”

  “I’ve heard slim. There’s a big difference in this case.” I motioned between Fab and me. “You ever hear of Jimmy Spoon? He’s my stepdaddy; you hurt us, and he’ll put the word out, track you, and find you. You’ll wish for a quick death, which you won’t get.” I could tell from their looks of surprise and fear that they had heard of Spoon and had not known about the connection. They looked like they were having se
cond thoughts. And I hadn’t even mentioned Creole and his undercover friends. Larry and Barry might make it to a cell, but not without looking like a dog had worked the two of them over to within a half-inch of their worthless lives.

  Barry let out a long moan.

  “Boys, boys, you’re not letting these two scum bitches charm you, are you?”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Ruby stood in the patio doorway, a handgun at her side, finger on the trigger. “Gertrude should be tied up. Better yet, kill her now.”

  Larry repeated, “Gertrude?”

  I interrupted to ask, “What are you doing here?” I didn’t know if it would help or hurt us that Fab and I had lied about our names but decided that keeping her ignorant was best for now.

  “She murdered Scotch,” Fab said, matter-of-fact.

  “You did?” I asked in confusion. “Why?” I glanced over at Fab, how did you know? written on my face.

  She flashed her signature smirk, along with a silent reminder that we weren’t dead yet.

  “Money.” Larry snorted. “Goody two shoes here lost her mind and got her hands dirty. Didn’t you, sweets?”

  “You shut the fuck up.” Ruby raised her gun to the middle of Larry’s chest.

  “Woah, sister.” Larry held a hand up. “We’re going to get the job done.”

  “I’m in this deep. Don’t think that you and your friend aren’t expendable.” Ruby’s eyes drilled into him, her jaw clenched and cheeks burning red.

  The best thing I could do was keep everyone talking, fighting, until Creole could send someone or come himself. I needed to untie Fab too, but if I got close enough, I’d probably be tied up myself, and that wouldn’t be helpful. If I was going to die, I’d choose inside my house and not dragged off to the dump.

  Larry’s eyes narrowed, fixed on Ruby. “You’re sayin’ we do the dirty work, you kill us?”

  She didn’t make eye contact. “Don’t get your shorts in a bunch.”

  I snuck a quick peek at Fab, and she shook her head slightly, sending a “don’t give up” message. These two men would do Ruby’s dirty work, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she rode along to the dump and they ended up left behind.