“See what I have to put up with?” I heard her say before I closed the door.
Fab didn’t drag her feet like I suspected she would and slid behind the wheel a few minutes later. She hit the gas, honked, and flew out of the driveway. “You going to input the address?” She pointed at the GPS.
“Jake’s. I’m betting you can find it on your own. There’re sixteen problems afoot, and Cook wants to speak to me. And since I know you’re going to ask, no clue what he wants.”
“Probably wants to sneak grilled rodent or some such onto the menu.”
Fab flew south down the Overseas, past the center of town, and pulled into the parking lot of the block I owned. She slowed going past the lighthouse, payment for a job she’d done and currently unoccupied, which was about to change. Since Fab hated every one of my ideas for the place, I’d surprise her. Opposite was Junker’s, an old gas station that had been converted into an antique garden store. They needed to be open regular hours—any, actually—and that was also about to change, since I was tired of fielding calls from people who were annoyed that there wasn’t even a sign displaying the hours. She swung around the back and parked at the kitchen entrance.
We entered, and Cook was nowhere in sight. I waved to the line cook and continued down the hall to the bar.
Kelpie, our previously pink-haired bartender, had recently dyed it turquoise. “I was having a down day,” is how she described the change. It matched her snug-fitting t-shirt, sedate for her, which advertised the Florida Keys in big letters.
“Hey Bossaroo. Your usual? No-alkie, since it’s still morning.” Kelpie shoved two sodas across the bar top, one with lime, and to the other, she added a stick of cherries at the last second. She tossed her head toward the open doors out to the deck. “You better pokey on out before you’re late. Oops! You already are. You know Cookie hates to be kept waiting.” She laughed.
Fab grabbed both drinks and headed outside.
“Spread the word,” I said in a conspiratorial tone. “I’m the owner. I can be late and don’t even have to come up with a good excuse.” I caught up with Fab and sat next to her across from Cook. Like me, she wanted to know what he was up to.
“What’s up?” I asked the man, who was staring us down, trying to ferret out any secrets we might be withholding. Good luck to that. “If this is about you venturing off the menu again, the answer is no.”
“You really need to broaden your palate,” he said with the start of a grin.
No, I don’t.
Reading my mind, he laughed. “You know the Taco Bar that you cheat on me by eating at?”
“I’m not sure how you know that, so I won’t bother to deny it. Sadly, we saw it burst into flames the other day. Is this where you tell me you’re going to fill the void and put a mini taco platter on the menu?” I licked my lips.
Cook shook his head. “On the menu or not, you ask, and you know I’ll whip it up. Back to the explosion. Thankfully, no one got hurt.”
“How does this relate to you?” Fab asked, and engaged in a stare-down with Cook.
My eyes darted between the two, and I let out a loud sigh to break up the game of who’d look away first that they were enjoying.
Cook flicked his gaze between the two of us. “The Vickers, who are friends of mine, own the wagon. I’m sure some would be surprised to learn that it was a lucrative business. As you’re aware, they always had a line of customers.” He downed his water and sent the bottle flying into the trash. “The Vickers planned to turn the business over to their grandson, who recently returned from military service, but now it’s a pile of rubble.”
“What do you want Madison to do?” Fab asked.
Cook shifted his gaze to me. “I want you to investigate how the supposed accident happened. Was it really arson, as suspected? If so, the culprit needs to go to jail, but not until restitution is paid.”
No point in telling him that the restitution part wouldn’t happen until they were out of jail. And more than likely not in a lump sum, but as a payment plan. “Did the Fire Inspector rule it arson?”
“Not officially. But I have a friend… you know how that works.” The brown of his eyes intensified and bore into me.
“Not sure arsonists have much money, and if caught, what they do have will go to attorney fees,” Fab said.
Cook ignored her. “The Vickers have owned that strip of property forever—long before the million-dollar mansions were constructed around it. Travis West bought the neighboring land and finished building his mansion about a year ago, and from day one, he’s been after them to sell him the land,” he continued. “West harped on about the food truck being an eyesore and that, besides being bad for property values, he didn’t want it next to his property, even though he can’t see the wagon unless he’s going in or out of his driveway. When the Vickers continued to turn West down, he backed off, and the code department started showing up on a regular basis. The first guy was a friend to the Vickers, and no reports were filed. They prudently cleaned up all potential violations so that when the next man showed up, he couldn’t find anything to write them up for.”
“Burning it down would be one way to get rid of the problem,” I said. “Except that if he’s caught, West is looking at jail time.”
“Interestingly, a few days before the fire, he made what he called a final offer.”
“That was stupid, if it was him,” Fab said.
“A friend of the Vickers’ told them they noticed West standing on the opposite side of the street while the flames leapt in the air and staying until the last of the fire trucks drove away. It surprised them when he had the gall to actually say he was happy that the land had been cleared. Later that day, West ran into the Vickers and snidely told them that his offer was still on the table but would be substantially reduced.”
“It will be easy enough to confirm if it was arson, which would trigger a police investigation,” Fab said.
“What about insurance?” I asked.
“They didn’t have replacement cost, only coverage if someone got hurt, which thankfully didn’t happen.”
Being underinsured seemed to be a theme amongst those that didn’t have an outstanding loan that made coverage mandatory. Most gambled, even knowing that they wouldn’t be able to replace anything.
“I’m not certain how much help we can be.” I flicked my finger between Fab and me.
“I’ve got a couple of ideas.” Cook gave us a toothy grin.
I heard Fab’s groan and was certain Cook missed it, since he didn’t react.
“I’m convinced that West is behind the fire,” Cook continued. “Rich guy isn’t going to get his hands dirty and probably hired it done. Getting reparations could be a long, involved process, and I’d like you to shorten it and squeeze the most money possible out of the man.”
What he was suggesting wouldn’t be easy and might be impossible. A quick glance at Fab told me she was thinking the same thing.
“Do you have any idea how we’re supposed to accomplish that? Besides extortion, blackmail, or whatever you were getting at but didn’t spell out,” Fab said, echoing my thoughts.
“Verify that it was arson and pin it on West if possible.”
“You’ve lost your mind,” I said with a head shake.
“Another thought: you purchase the land and restart the business, then work a favorable deal with the grandson so that he can take over.” After a pause, Cook added, “If he wants.” He didn’t sound certain that the idea he was pitching was something the family even wanted.
“Your hot idea is for me to buy the property and start the same kind of business that just got burned out? By probable arson. And what stops whoever lit the first match from doing it again?” I asked, knowing full well Fab wouldn’t be partnering in a taco business. She and I exchanged raised eyebrows. Her smirk told me she’d been digging around in my thoughts again and agreed this wouldn’t be a business we’d be partnering on.
“Madison has her tale
nts, but running a roach coach business isn’t one of them. What you really want is it resurrected, then sold off to the grandson, and that’s without knowing if he’s even remotely interested.” Fab ignored Cook’s raised eyebrows. “Don’t try to sell me that you know the answer when it’s clear you have no clue. You’re in luck, though; I have an idea.”
I clenched my jaw to keep from laughing.
Fab broke the stare-down between her and Cook. “Why not take the money out of your mattress and be all do-good-ery yourself?”
“If Madison’s name is associated with the business, rich boy won’t bother her. Unless he’s stupid.” Cook grinned.
“Here’s what we can do.” I flicked my gaze between Fab and Cook. “Fab and I will look into the circumstances surrounding the fire, find any potential suspects, and get back to you. I can’t promise anything else until I talk to Creole, and I know for a fact that he’ll be against buying into trouble.” Not that I hadn’t done it before, but he’d like a rest.
Cook’s phone rang, for which I was thankful. “I have to take this.” He jumped up, crossed the deck, and went back inside through the poker room.
“We’ll get back to you,” I yelled at his back before he disappeared. He waved over his head.
I sucked down the last of my soda and wolfed down the cherries, then picked my phone out of my pocket and called inside. “Where’s Mr. Doodad?” I asked Kelpie after her sexually suggestive, “Can I help you?”
“Emergency trip to the dentist. I told him that, since the missing tooth didn’t show, what the hell, he should wait and see whether he needed a new one to chew his food,” Kelpie said cheerily. “I couldn’t make out what he was grumbling about, but he beat it out the door when I pulled my fist back to punch him. Before you get in a snit, it was just for fun.”
Good thing I’d hit the speaker button, so I didn’t have to repeat any of this because Fab would never have believed me. “What do you know about the intruder?”
“He was asked to git, nicely of course. I went soft on him, since he spent the night with his head stuck in the urinal. Ouchy-pouch.”
“Happy ending,” I said before she could say it. “Tell your boss that if he needs to speak to his boss, call anytime. In the meantime, no baloney going on.”
“You’re no damn fun.”
“That’s me.” I hung up. “I’m thinking we make a run for it out the front, since it’s the shortest distance to the outside.”
Fab picked up our glasses and put them in the bus tray. She poked her head inside, then turned to me. “There’s a clear path, so all you need to do is walk fast.”
Fab and I cut across the bar with a quick wave to Kelpie, who was holding court, entertaining the “beer for almost-lunch” crowd, and out the front. We circled around the back and jumped in the Hummer. I hit the door locks. “I don’t care that Cook directed the conversation at me; I made it clear to him, and now to you, that I’m your backup.”
“Cook’s not stupid; he knew we would show together. His ploy of only talking to you is because he knows that I’m not a soft touch for any poor soul that wanders up. I’d have laughed. Problem solved.”
Chapter Thirteen
“I’m going to avail myself of your investigator skills and ask that you swing by the remnants of the Taco Bar. You can have a look around, give me your expert opinion on what went down,” I said. “While we’re there, we might as well check out the neighborhood.”
“If you only asked me so nicely all the time.” Fab laughed. “You’re the one who can come up with a good story in a second; you might start thinking up one for why we’re knocking on Travis West’s door and asking if he set the fire.”
“I’m thinking that’s too direct,” I said. “Besides, if he’s got dough to blow, makes sense he wouldn’t risk a limb doing it himself.”
“Put the word out that you’re willing to pay for info on how the unfortunate incident happened.” Fab turned off the highway and wound her way over to the Taco Bar… or rather, where it had once been, since the rubble had been cleared away.
The scorched strip of land was the only sign there’d been a fire. Fab cruised the block, which was a combination of new homes and lots available for custom builds, a number of which would remain vacant, as the buildable sections were the size of a postage stamp. She U-turned, pulled in, and parked in what once was the parking lot, the four spaces still clearly marked.
“I’m thinking it was only a matter of time before the builders of the spendy new mansions would have wanted the coach out of their neighborhood, since it’s not a selling point.” I stared out the window, checking out the neighborhood. “I’m surprised one of the developers didn’t step up and attempt a deal.”
“Or they did, and the Vickers turned it down.”
“Even if I was remotely interested in this business venture, I’m certain that any attempt to get a business license would be met with a fight. The issue could easily bring the neighbors together and slow the process until it’s not cost effective.”
“Another option would be for them to sell the land and move the business elsewhere. A lot less hassle.” Fab got out, and I followed. “Do you want my opinion now or after we walk around? Here it is anyway: you don’t need this fight.”
“There’s something we agree on.” I looked toward West’s property. “The security gate is an impediment to our knocking on the door and catching him off guard.”
A white Mercedes rounded the corner, cut across the road, and slid to a stop next to us. The window rolled down. “What are you looking at?” the driver yelled.
I stepped forward. “Checking out the property before I make an offer.”
He laughed, his tone condescending when he asked, “And do what with it?”
“Margarita wagon, and I’m betting it won’t take long before we have people lined up. Then we’ll add tacos to the menu like the last people. They were very successful.” I pasted on a practiced smile.
Fab moved to my side and nudged me slightly.
His face flooded with anger. “You’ll never get a permit to operate any kind of business in this neighborhood.”
“I had the same thought until I did a little digging, and with a connection or two, it’s workable.”
His face turned all shades of red, and he looked ready to explode. “Will. Never. Happen.”
Fab hooked her arm in mine. “Nice meeting you.” She waved and pushed me back towards the car. “You’ve had enough fun; I’m betting that we just met Travis West, and we need to get out of here before he expires behind the wheel.” Good guess. Once we got in the car, the gates to the West mansion opened, and the Mercedes flew down the driveway.
I kept an eye peeled as we backed out. “I’m betting he wrote down the plate number, and now he wants to know who we are.”
A few minutes later, Fab’s phone rang, and she pulled over to take the call. It didn’t take her long to respond, “No problem. I’ll get right on it.”
“Let me guess, Gunz?” I asked after she hung up.
“His meeting is running over, and he’ll text over the address of the place that needs the security system. It’s not a rush, so it’s not something that needs to be done today.”
“You might want to point out how easy it was to make the call and forgo meeting at the office all the time,” I said. “So we’re headed home. Cool. I need to make a call myself, and you can eavesdrop, although probably not technically, since I’ll have it on speaker.”
“You should try to get to the point before you forget what you’re talking about and have to start over.”
“I’m thinking I might have forgotten to pass along a detail or two about another potential case. Freebie, so don’t get in a snit.” I fished out my phone and called Tank, telling her about Xander’s friend while I waited for him to pick up.
“That will be a messy case.”
When Tank answered, I said, “How’s our favorite lawyer? And so you know, you’re on speaker.” Silence.
“Disclosing upfront that this is a freebie.”
Tank groaned. “You’ve sent me a couple of payers, so I can at least be gracious and hear the details. Know that I reserve the right to say no, and no complaining from you.”
“This client is seventeen, and here’s what I know of her story.” I told him what Xander had confided.
“I’m happy to talk to Lena and inform her of her options, which aren’t cut and dried. The mother risks charges if she kicks the girl out before she turns eighteen. After that, because Lena can prove she’s lived there, the mother would have to go through an eviction process. As for belongings, you didn’t hear me say this, but sneaking them out is probably the best way to ensure that she gets to keep them. If it goes before a judge, he’s going to ask for receipts, which I’m guessing that neither has, and how he rules after that, who knows. Before it even got that far, there would be nothing to stop the mother from packing everything up and dumping it, which it sounds like she’s in the process of doing.”
“Maybe you can mediate a happy ending?” I said.
“You’re not paying for my professional opinion, but here it is: highly doubtful that will happen if the situation has degenerated this far.”
I sighed. “You’re very swell. I’ll have Xander call and set up a meeting.”
“I’ll do it myself—makes it easier to squeeze a favor or two out of him.” Tank laughed, and we hung up.
“You turned the wrong way. We live that way.” I pointed over my head.
“Those offers of free lunches that you complain I never follow through on… today’s your lucky day. We’re headed to the Crab Shack.”
“Yum.”
Chapter Fourteen
Creole and I spent the morning working together out on the deck, my cats, Jazz and Snow, asleep on my feet. Creole spent most of his time fielding calls and putting out fires. I sent off a slew of emails—Xander and Cook at the top of my list, requesting information on the Taco Bar. One to Doodad, who needed to put it out to his street snitches that there was money in turning over the name of anyone boasting about setting the fire.
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