“There’s enough here to feed the whole block.”
“We’ll be right down.”
Chapter Eleven
Creole downed the last of his morning coffee and put the mug in the dishwasher. He did a double take and leaned over the sink to stare out the window, where everything was still dripping from last night’s downpour and dark clouds had rolled in, threatening another drencher. Then he backed up and reached into the back of the junk drawer (every house should have one), pulled out a Glock 9, and turned to me. “Not sure what’s going on, but stay down.”
He was out the door before I could snap back, “Yeah sure.” I reached into the same drawer and withdrew a Beretta, slowed to slip into a pair of flip-flops, and beat it out the door.
I approached Creole as he stood at the end of the driveway, his head turning one way and then the other. He shoved his gun into his waistband and hightailed it across the street.
Didier raced by in hot pursuit of a scruffy thirty-something man, the two headed toward the entry gate. The man caught sight of Creole about to intercept him and attempted to change course. His hesitation gave Didier time to come up on him and kick his feet out from under him.
The man landed face down on the grass, and Creole stuck his tennis-shoe-clad foot on his butt and barked. The man nodded and didn’t move.
I waved at Fab, who was headed my way, and met her halfway. We stood on the side of the road. “Intruder? Man make a wrong turn?” I turned my head one way and then the other. Not a single car parked anywhere on the street.
“Didier was about to leave for work when he caught sight of this guy roaming around. Before he flew out of the house, he told me to stay put.” Fab shook her head, conveying how stupid she thought the idea was.
“Mine had similar instructions, and here we are—a testament to how well we listen.”
We both laughed.
Creole and Didier appeared to be weighing their options as the man continued to shake his head. Creole fisted the back of the man’s t-shirt, hauled him to his feet, and searched him.
“We can’t eavesdrop from over here.” Fab grabbed my arm, and we hustled across the street.
We got the stink eye from our respective husbands as we joined them.
“I’m assuming this man isn’t a friend of either of yours?” I directed the question to Creole and Didier.
“He’s trespassing,” Didier snapped.
The man eyed the guns that Fab and I were holding at our sides.
“He was just about to tell us what he’s doing here,” said Creole, who still had ahold of the man’s arm.
“Honest mistake.” His body shook with fear as he lifted his eyes to the four of us. “Had a little car trouble and wanted to use your phone.” He sounded unsure, waiting to see if we were going to believe him.
“Where’s your car parked?” I raised my brows at the man and got rewarded with a who’s the cop here? look from Creole. Ex-cop anyway. I made a motion that I’d zip my lips.
“It’s… it’s out at the street.” He waved as though unsure of the location. “No idea that this was private property when I walked up.”
“How did you get in the gate?” Creole demanded.
“It was open?”
“You two are being way too nice.” Fab moved up between Didier and Creole, and Didier stepped closer to her. “At this rate, we’ll be here all day and still won’t know anything, except that this man’s a pitiful liar. I say we shoot him… one little body part at a time.” She unleashed a ‘crazy girl’ smile on the man, and he stepped back but didn’t get far, brought short by Creole.
“You’ve got my vote.” I raised my hand. “I suggest that we do it on the grass so blood doesn’t leak everywhere. It’s messy to clean up.”
Didier rolled his eyes with a slight shake of his head.
“Come on,” the man whined. “Let me go, and I promise not to come back here ever again. No need for cops or anything.”
“No one mentioned the cops, but that’s a good idea.” Creole took his phone out of his pocket.
“No,” he screeched. “Seriously, you can’t do that. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. I don’t want to go to jail. The cops show, and it’s possible they may find that I have an outstanding warrant.”
My guess was it wasn’t for jaywalking. Most likely a felony.
“Here’s the deal.” Creole tightened his hold on the man’s arm. “Tell us the truth, starting with your name and why the heck you’re wandering around here, or I’m going to assume you’re here casing the houses, and then I’ll break your neck.”
“Name’s Rick Pierce,” he spit out. “I should’ve known the job was too good.”
“You got ID?” I whipped my phone out of my pocket.
He shook his head. “In the car.”
“Your birthdate?” I typed in the info and sent it off to Xander with a message: Holding this guy. How much trouble is he in?
“Start talking,” Didier snapped.
Fab shot him a moony smile.
“A guy approached me at Custer’s.” Rick shuffled from one foot to the other. “I’d been pointed out as a man who does odd jobs, and he paid me a C-note to get the names of the people that lived on this street. It seemed like easy money but took me a few days, since I had to tuck myself behind that tree out front and wait for a chance to get in the gate. It took a few cars, as they all sat their asses right there and waited for it to close.” He shook his head, not believing someone would do that.
I caught Fab’s smirk. It was a good rule, as it turned out. Now, how to stop the next person willing to wait days for an opportunity to sneak inside?
“Okay, so now we know how you got in. What was your plan to get the names of the residents?” Creole asked.
“Easy—the mailboxes. Didn’t realize it would be so fancy-ass that you wouldn’t have any.” Rick looked around. “Mail Dude deliver to the door?”
No one answered him.
“Do you have a backup plan?” Fab asked.
“Didn’t figure I’d need one. I barely got to looking around when that one jumped out of nowhere and gave chase.” He nodded to Didier.
The driveway wasn’t actually nowhere, but okay.
Rick danced against Creole’s hold on him.
Creole dropped his hand. “Move and I promise you won’t get far.”
“I’ve got a new plan.” Rick pasted on a hesitant smile. “I’ll get back to my contact with made-up names. I was supposed to take pictures, but I imagine you’re not going to go for that. My excuse for not having them: broke my phone, which I dropped somewhere around here.” His eyes swept back to where the chase started.
Fab took off in that direction and checked over every inch of the grass; it didn’t take her eagle eyes long to find it. She retrieved it and took several minutes to scan the screen. Walking back over, she dropped it on the ground and stepped on it.
“What the…? Was that necessary?” Rick demanded.
“Watch your tone,” Didier growled.
“If you hadn’t already snapped a few pictures, maybe not.” Fab shrugged. “I’ve run over a couple with my car, but that’s the first one I’ve crushed underfoot. It was fun.”
“How am I going to call and report that I got the job done?” Rick whined.
“Tell us about this contact of yours,” Creole demanded.
“Introduced himself as John, no last name. Pretty sure he’s a regular at Custer’s, since a couple of the men I drink with acknowledged him. He pitched the job, seemed easy enough, and I was out of there with the money in my pocket. Now what am I going to do?”
“You were willing to put your backside on the line with no clue as to the kind of person you were dealing with?” Creole said with disbelief. “My guess is that he’s not going to take it well if you lie to him and pass along phony information.”
“John happen to say why he wanted the information?” Didier asked.
“No, and I didn’t ask.”
“Guessing at six foot, dark hair, Florida vibe, like everyone else in there.” Rick’s antsiness ramped up at having to answer questions.
Creole and Didier stepped away, and after a brief conversation, turned back. “Let’s go.” Didier nodded toward the gate.
“If there’s a next time…” Creole glared at Rick. “You won’t be walking out of here.”
Rick nodded, relieved that he was being allowed to leave.
As the three men walked toward the gate, Fab whipped out her phone and sent a text, then made a call. “The number I just sent, can you get the information off of it? I got a bit carried away and crushed the phone under my shoe. It’s about that Rick character that I already texted you about. I’m thinking he’s not the smartest and will probably get another phone with the same number. Maybe you can monitor any activity.” She told Xander what she was looking for and that if he could delete pictures of the compound, do it. Then hung up.
“The only way that man was getting arrested is the outstanding warrant. I doubt the cops would’ve done anything, especially if he stuck to his story that he wandered up by accident,” I said.
“We need a sign.”
“Yes, we do.”
It didn’t take long before the guys were back. Creole had his phone out and sent a text. “I just forwarded a copy of the license plate to Xander. I’d have sent a copy of his ID, except he didn’t have one.”
“We’re keeping Xander busy today,” I said.
Creole held up the screen, which showed a run-down white sedan. “Couldn’t identify the make and model and asked Rick, who didn’t know.”
“Creole and I figured it was stolen,” Didier said in disgust.
“Let this be a lesson.” Creole clapped Didier on the back with a look of amusement. “Cheap help is not a good business strategy.” He turned to Fab and me. “Our friend here hasn’t been to Custer’s, so I’m going to take him, show him the fine establishment. Tentative plan is to buy some info off the owner.”
“I’ve met him a time or two,” I said. “He’s a wily character who’s been around forever and knows the intricacies of the lowlife element. He wouldn’t think twice about back dealing you if the price was right.”
“You’re better off bribing one of the servers,” Fab said.
“Better yet, leave it to Fab and me. We know how to get in and out. Our favorite is the alley entrance, as I recall.”
Creole leaned down and fixed me with that dark-blue stare of his. “No.”
“That’s a maybe.” I winked at Fab, who laughed.
“It’s about ready to pour again. Talk later.” Creole hooked his arm around me.
We headed back up the shell driveway that Creole had trucked in as a surprise for me, and Didier and Fab headed back to their house.
Chapter Twelve
We’d barely got the door closed when it started to rain. At the same time, my phone rang. I headed to the island, taking it out of my pocket and glancing at the screen—the manager of my bar: Doodad, aka Charles Wingate III, which he would never answer to. I glanced at the time. “It’s early for him,” I mumbled and shoved the phone across the countertop to Creole, who grabbed waters for the two of us and sat across from me.
Creole made an X with his fingers in front of his chest. “No way. Not answering. He’s only going to ask for you, and I’ll end up handing the phone over.”
I reluctantly picked up the phone. “Yesss,” I answered and hit the speaker button.
“Not sure how to order this…” Doodad laughed hesitantly. “The intruder is a good place to start. Then move right along to getting your okay for the sword swallowing act, and let’s see—”
I cut him off. “No, on the sword business.”
Creole covered his mouth and laughed. I reached out to slap his arm and came up with air.
“Where was I?” Doodad was doing a poor job covering how much he was enjoying relaying the news. “Cook’s in a dither and wants to see you the minute you step foot in the door. I pointed out that you come through the kitchen more often than not and he should whistle. Didn’t calm his feathers any.”
Creole looked down, his shoulders shaking.
“Anyone die?” I asked. I guessed not, or he would’ve started the conversation with that tidbit, but better to ask than hear the excuse, It slipped my mind.
“Not in the mood for that today.” Doodad grumbled unintelligibly. “I’d toe the body outside and lock the door. That’s such a great idea that I’m going to keep it front and center in my noggin and use it should the sitch play out.”
That wiped the smile off Creole’s face.
“I’m thinking I need a second cup of coffee to deal with all your news. I’ll be hopping over shortly. Won’t that be fun? And if you have more tidbits, I’ll be all ears.” No answer. “I’ll expect a repeat in case you missed pertinent details. And if you ignored me the first time, ixnay on the swords. I’m sure it’s entertaining, but no. Hell no.”
“I work hard to come up with these great ideas, and what do you do? Blow ’em out of the water in a blink,” Doodad grumbled. “You could at least entertain a little back and forth.”
Creole shook his head.
“I should get extra credit for not wanting to waste your time,” I said and was rewarded with more silence. “You know I appreciate your endeavors to make Jake’s the hot and happening dive joint it is.” But you need to tame it down was the last thing he wanted to hear.
Doodad snorted.
“I’ll see you when I get there.”
He grunted and disconnected.
Creole leaned across the counter and brushed his lips across mine. “Since I know you’re about to ask, I’d love to go along with you, but I have a meeting on the other coast.”
If he thought the sad face was convincing, it wasn’t. “Free tip for you: if you’re going to be less than truthful—or as some might phrase it, trot out a bald-faced lie—you might want to practice. I’d offer to help, but not to use on me.”
Creole chuckled. “I’m happy that you don’t use your skills on me. Or do you?”
I stared down his squint eye. “Maybe a little. More like withholding. Good news: I fess up in the end.” He shook his head. “I realize that you’re broken-hearted about having some phony meeting hours away, so to ease your conscience about ditching me, I’m going to go lie to Fab to get her out of the house. I learned from you that I need to come up with something believable.” I downed the rest of my water and handed the bottle to Creole.
He opened the trash compactor, stood back, and slam dunked it, then came around the island and put his arm around me, steering me toward the entry. He hooked my purse over my shoulder, handed me my briefcase, and walked me to the SUV. “Do you think you can stay out of trouble?” He waited while I got in, then rolled down the window and closed the door, sticking his head inside to kiss me.
“I wouldn’t put cash on it.”
“Maybe I should—”
“Don’t you worry your pretty self.” I winked at him. “I’ll finish dressing by the time I get to Jake’s and be gunned up and ready.” My Glock was in my briefcase, but I’d strap it to my thigh before getting out of the car.
Creole swooped in for another kiss and waved as I backed out of the driveway under his watchful eye and turned towards Fab’s house.
Before getting out, I slipped my lockpick out of my purse; then I headed to the door, opening it in seconds. I closed the door quietly and turned to meet the hard blue-eyed stare of Didier, who’d been in the midst of refilling his coffee mug.
“You’re lucky my wife is otherwise distracted.” Didier pointed to where Fab sat on the couch talking on her phone. “I can’t guarantee she wouldn’t have shot you.”
“You need to have a talk with her about neighbor relations.” I tsked. “You might want to suck down your coffee and scoot out the door, or you’re going to be late for that meeting in Naples.” I cho
se the first city I could think of on the west coast.
“Naples? How did I not know…” Didier picked up his phone and flicked through the screen.
“Also check with Creole; it would suck for him to drive over by himself,” I said in a sweet tone.
Didier backed up and leaned against the counter to make the call.
Fab appeared out of nowhere in one of her ghost moves. “Did you knock?”
“Actually, I did something better.” I pulled my lockpick out of my pocket and waved it. “So much more efficient.” I blocked her attempt to grab it out of my hands. “Before you get all attitudinal, I need your backup services this morning. The same ones I extend to you, mostly with minimal grumbling.” I clapped my hands. “Speed it up; we need to get going.”
Didier finished his call and slid onto a stool. He shook his finger at me, a stern look on his face.
“You know, Frenchie, you’re going to need work on your behave face, because it just makes you look hotter. Who knew that was possible?” That got a smile out of him.
Fab slapped her hand on the counter. “That’s my husband.”
“Good thing you told me.”
Fab didn’t roll her eyes, but she was thinking it. “You’re in luck, since I also need your services today. Gunz wants to meet at the office—another relative gone off the rails, I’m guessing, since he was short on details.”
“I know I’ve suggested this six times already—and it’s a good idea, so this time you might to want to listen up—the man doesn’t even have to get off his oversized rear to send the deets in an email. You might also mention that his finger-snapping routine is old.” I patted my lips. “Oh wait, then he wouldn’t be able to dribble all over you.”
Didier grinned.
“Eww.” Fab glared at both of us. “It’s a yes that we’re teaming up today.”
“My job is so easy in comparison that I’m thinking you’ll owe me one. You smoochy it up with your husband while I head out to the car.” I winked at Didier, then grabbed her purse and briefcase and waved them at her. “In case you’re thinking of not showing up in a timely fashion.”
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