Bodies in Paradise

by Deborah Brown

  “Let’s go upstairs and snag the table with the best view, order drinks, and I’ll call and request a ride, since we’ve been drinking. If Creole hesitates at all, I’ll tell him, ‘No worries, the nice man at the next table can drive us home.’”

  “This is a really stupid idea.”

  I agreed, but we were here. “Two or three drinks from now, it’ll be the best idea we’ve ever had.”

  We laughed as we climbed the stairs and scanned the deck, asking the hostess for a corner table with a view of the water. A hottie server grabbed up menus and seated us himself.

  “What would you like to drink?” he asked.

  “I’ll take a pitcher of margaritas, and she’ll take a pitcher of martinis,” I ordered. “With a side of olives and cherries.”

  He laughed. “Be back.”

  Once our drinks arrived, I downed half the glass, then took my phone out, called Creole, and hit speaker. “I’m going with the truth.”

  “You’re no fun.” Fab shook her head with a laugh.

  “Hi, babes.”

  “Didier and I were just wondering where you two were. Headed home?”

  “You know that bet that you wouldn’t agree to… not in so many words anyway.”

  “You better not be at Custer’s,” Creole grouched. “You’re on speaker.”

  “So are you. Anyway, did we fail to mention that little meet-and-greet was a couple of days ago?” Creole and Didier both groaned. “You want the juicy info? Go to the address Fab is texting Didier.” I nodded at her to do just that. “Be prepared to pay up.”

  “This is underhanded, and Didier and I aren’t caving to blackmail, so we’ll see you when you get home.”

  “Fine. We’re going to finish up our pitchers of drinks first. Then I’ll hit the guy at the next table up for a ride. He’s been flirting heavily; he’ll jump at a twofer.” Fab shook her head. “See you later, hon.” I hung up before my cheeks caught fire.

  “When they get here and there’s no one sitting at the tables on either side of us, then what?”

  “We had to turn down the sweet man, and he left.” I downed my drink. “Liquid courage,” I toasted to Fab’s raised eyebrows. “I’ll drink the next one slower, so I don’t slur my words, relaying all the information we’ve compiled.”

  We sat and sipped our drinks, watching the boats come and go.

  “So, have you finalized your plan for dealing with Travis West?” Fab asked. “The taco people must be getting antsy.”

  “I’m going to start squatting on the property, become a nightmare neighbor, worse than the Taco Bar, and hope he makes a good offer,” I said. “I’m kicking my plan into action with the help of Crum this weekend. I hope you’re going to stop by and lend your support.”

  “Probably not.” Fab turned up her nose. “But then, if I don’t show, something good will happen and I’ll have missed it. So maybe.”

  Creole and Didier walked out, beers in hand, and crossed the deck.

  “Nice glares, you two.” I gave the men a thumbs up.

  “Didn’t we tell you not to go question Custer?” Creole asked.

  Didier nudged Fab.

  She turned a seductive smile on him, which he clearly enjoyed. “I didn’t hear any such thing out of either of you. What about you?” Fab asked me.

  I shook my head. “You two are just irked that the sexy one got information out of the crusty man. If I could take credit, I would.”

  “How do you know him?” Didier asked, staring down at her, surprise in his voice.

  “I’ll admit to me and Custer being acquainted.” Fab sniffed. “What I’ve done a time or two in the past is buy information, and the other day was the same. If he trusts that you’re not going to bring the cops around, he’ll take the cash.” She stared Creole down.

  “Obviously neither of you has a sense of humor about being tricked into dinner with your wives, so how about we just enjoy the food?” I said. “This was my no-so-hot idea, so direct your surliness my way.”

  “Enjoying the food is something we can agree on,” Creole said.

  Didier pulled Fab to him and whispered in her ear, and she smiled at him.

  “You’re going to be a little less surly when you hear what Custer had to say, or rather, what he told us to look into.” Fab raised her eyebrow at me, a signal to impart the details. That was a surprise.

  “Okay, I’ll start. Although Custer only had eyes for Fab.” I winked at her. “He dropped a name—Theodore Roberts—and told us to do our own investigation. Xander really got into this search request, donned his PI hat, and investigated every person linked to the man.” I telegraphed your turn to Fab and finished off my drink. Creole refilled my glass with a wink.

  “Turns out Roberts headed up a group of criminals that trafficked drugs through the Gulf from Mexico. The Coast Guard caught wind and busted their boat. The driver, in exchange for a deal, gave them names. And the two guys that were dumped on our dock were picked up by the authorities and made the same deal. They all turned on Roberts.”

  “I don’t like where this is going,” Creole said. “It’s not a name I recognize, but I can hit up some law enforcement sources and find out more.”

  Fab nodded. “I scrutinized the pictures of the dead men that Xander sent over. I may be bad with names, but I’m good with faces, and I haven’t met a one of them before. I never knowingly took a case that had anything to with drugs. One case, a couple tried to pull one over on me, having me transport coke, and I dumped them.”

  Didier covered Fab’s hand with his own.

  “The quick version, since I’m planning to send over the mammoth report so the two of you can peruse the fine details—” Fab eyed Creole and Didier. “—is that the two tossed out of the boat were apparently his right-hand men and testified to everything they knew in exchange for lenient sentences. As it turned out, they got a slap on the wrist.”

  “They must have had some damn good information,” Creole said. “I don’t know a district attorney that likes those kinds of deals.”

  “A number of people ended up going to jail, but not for the same fifty-year sentence Roberts got.”

  The server came and took our orders.

  “There’s more. The three dead men found in the house that Gunz had his eye on also worked for Roberts and, at the time of their death, were associates of the other two men. They’d regrouped and were back to running drugs again, but on a smaller scale,” Fab said. “That last tidbit came from a cop source via a friend of a friend of Xander’s.”

  “The cops put one drug operation out of business and, unfortunately, more established ones take up the slack,” Creole said.

  “Are you in any danger?” Didier put his arm around Fab, pulling her head to his chest.

  “Hard to know,” Fab said. “I’m going to give Casio a heads up, and all of us need to stay on alert.”

  I nodded.

  “How did Roberts get out of jail?” Creole demanded.

  I patted his arm, and he took a breath.

  “His conviction got overturned on appeal—his legal team was able to prove the witnesses lied about some events.”

  “Roberts gets out of jail and kills off his associates, guaranteeing that not only will he go back, but he’ll get the death penalty this time,” Didier said in exasperation. “You’d think he’d know he’d be at the top of the list of suspects.”

  “That many dead bodies… it wouldn’t surprise me if there were more.” Creole shook his head.

  Fab nudged me under the table. “Interestingly enough, there were no follow-up news articles on any of the men that turned up dead,” I said. “As for Roberts, he disappeared after getting released from prison. Custer says he’s had plastic surgery, so even though Xander sent over his mugshot, we have no idea what he actually looks like now.”

  “Did Rick Pierce also work for Roberts back in the day?” Didier asked.

  “Xander didn’t find any record of that. According to Custer, he didn’t
deliver on the job he was hired for and Roberts wasn’t happy,” Fab said. “I’m only guessing, but it wouldn’t surprise me if, under the threat of death, Pierce told the man everything he knew about where we live… then died anyway.”

  “Why dump the body in the compound?” Creole asked. “Normally it would be a message, but since none of us have had any dealings with any of these men, it makes no sense.”

  “The news did say that a woman witnessed the bodies being dumped,” Didier reminded him. “If Roberts thinks he was seen disposing of his victims…”

  “I’ll get with Casio and make sure he’s not withholding information,” Creole said.

  “Xander has an alert if anything pops up in the news, and so far, nothing.” I turned a smile on Fab, silently asking, Did I forget anything? A slight shake of her head told me, No.

  At last, our food arrived, and it not only looked good, it also smelled yum.

  “One more thing before we table all this unpleasant talk,” Didier said. “Can you two raise your right hands and swear to stop looking for trouble?”

  “We’ll do our best. How about that?” I gave him a sneaky smile.

  “Don’t be shocked when we’re forced to resort to underhanded tactics.” Fab smiled up at him. Game on for those two. They’d both enjoy every moment.

  “I’ve got my eye on you,” Creole whispered in my ear.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Fab and I had been on our best behavior the last few days, reassuring our husbands we weren’t out looking for trouble and, in a show of good faith, maintaining a low profile.

  That was about to end. It was party day at the old Taco Bar property. My plan was to make such a nuisance of myself that Travis West would make a generous offer on the land. I’d spoken to a real estate agent about putting it up for sale and was informed that it was a useless strip that couldn’t be built on and basically, “Good luck.” I checked with a friend who worked in the office of the County Code Department, and he said it was unlikely a building permit would ever be issued. I ran Plan B by him, and he laughed. “Mind if I stop by?” The more the merrier.

  Fab never mentioned the big day, and I figured that was her way of saying, “Thanks, but not going,” without actually having to say it.

  Creole kissed me before going out the door. “Know that I’m always good for bail money.”

  I made a face, and he laughed, getting in his truck.

  I wasn’t far behind, arriving at the property after Crum, who’d arrived early, parking a motorhome on loan from Spoon. A customer had garaged it at his business and gave permission to use it for a few days. Less would make me happy.

  Crum had set up large umbrellas, tables, and chairs, all lined up to overlook the strip of water, then set up a makeshift bar and hauled several ice chests out of the motorhome.

  I parked across the street and got out, then stepped back as the short bus rounded the corner and cruised to a stop, Cootie behind the wheel. He opened the door, and a line of scantily-clad men and women stepped off, drinks in hand.

  Cootie U-turned and pulled into Travis’s driveway, using it to turn around, then parked in front of his house.

  Mac arrived in the hearse and got out, along with more barely-clad people. I recognized a couple from the neighborhood. Not certain where she recruited the others. She let out a shrill whistle for help, and a couple of men hustled over and offloaded several more ice chests that I knew held a variety of beers and soft drinks. Two surprises: Mac was driving, and who knew the hearse was available to borrow? When Rude found out, she’d be planning a death tour.

  I didn’t see where the boombox came from that now sat in the middle of one of the tables, blaring music. The guests grabbed drinks and swayed around, clinking beer bottles—the official start of the party. They’d all been told to make a spectacle of themselves, but not to venture into anything illegal.

  Last but not least, the lime-green food truck that I’d hired to cook up greasy food on demand rumbled up and shared the parking lot with the motorhome.

  The party atmosphere was in full swing. A few of the men gathered around one of the tables and got a card game going. Wearing his tighty-whities, which weren’t on the banned list for the day, Crum started a conga line. The revelers sang at the top of their lungs and danced around the perimeter.

  I had to admit that I was in awe of how quickly everything came together. I crossed the street and joined Mac, who was leaning against the hearse, which I refused to do, instead standing about a foot away.

  “Next time, I’m borrowing a casket, making it the centerpiece for the table and loading it up with drinks. Once the funeral guys hear that idea, you can bet it will debut at the next send-off,” Mac said, proud of her idea.

  “Do you worry about your mental health when you come up with one of these ideas?” I asked.

  “You’ve got some nerve.” Mac laughed, her girls jiggling around in her I’m hot t-shirt. “You apparently need to be reminded that you organized this fun fest.”

  “Fingers crossed—” I demonstrated. “—West gets a look at the fun and frivolity, flips his stick, and hustles to the Vickers with an offer. Creole already warned me that this gig has a time limit. I don’t relish the thought of coming back here day after day, and I’m not certain how much the antics can be ratcheted up to keep folks interested.”

  “It’s nice what you’re doing, since most people would tell the Vickers to deal with their own problems.”

  “I’m just hoping it works.”

  “I was just about to ask after your cohort.” Mac pointed to the Porsche that screamed around the corner and squealed up to park behind the Hummer. “How do I get a ride in that pretty damn awesome sportscar? I’d want to cruise through town, hanging my head out the window, waving like a madwoman.”

  I conjured up a picture of that and laughed. “I dare you to ask her. If Fab’s nose shoots in the air, the answer is no.” The two of us walked over to her car. “I guess she listened when I warned that she might miss a shootout.”

  Mac pulled her imaginary six-shooters and shot up the street, then blew on the ends of her fingers and reholstered them. “You know—”

  I cut her off. “If I didn’t think it would land us all in jail, I’d have at least entertained the idea of a faux shootout.” I shook my head. “Creole would kill me.”

  “If Creole’s going to put in an appearance, I’m happy to keep him entertained while you smoochy it up with your other husband for the day… Crum.” Mac made a choking noise.

  “Creole got a good laugh when I told him who his replacement was.”

  “I better not have missed anything,” Fab said, getting out of the car and pocketing her phone.

  Mac cleared her throat and nodded towards something behind us. Fab and I turned as Travis West stomped in the direction of the property, his hard glare examining every person in sight.

  Fab nudged me forward. “I don’t think we introduced ourselves the last time. I say we don’t bother this time, either.”

  “I’m thinking we hang back, see how this plays out. Crum assured me he can hold his own. I’m sure there will be an opportune moment to hop in and be friendly to the neighbor—offer him a greasy burger,” I said as the three of us moved closer.

  West began to yell, which was drowned out by the music. He swept out his arm and sent the boombox airborne; it crashed into a nearby boulder. No more music. He was now the center of attention, all eyes on him.

  Crum stormed over, got right up in his face, and yelled, “What the hell are you doing? This is private property.” He fisted the man’s shirt and shoved him backward.

  “We need to make sure this doesn’t escalate.” I went running over. “Honey…” I grabbed Crum’s arm and stepped in front of him, in case he was thinking about taking a swing. “I don’t want you getting hurt.” I hooked my arm in his and stood at his side.

  “You’ve got two minutes to pack up and leave, or I’m calling the cops,” West thundered.

/>   “We have every right to be here.” I pasted on a phony smile. “The Vickers have given me permission to use the property while my loan for the purchase is under review.”

  “To do what?” West looked around, his eyes landing on the food truck. “That’s illegal,” he roared.

  “Actually, it isn’t,” I said sweetly. “This is private property, and the truck has the appropriate licensing.”

  He attempted to glare a hole through me, and I pretended not to notice. “You didn’t answer my question about what you’re going to do with the property.”

  “My hub and I plan on living here.” I patted Crum’s forearm. “It’s legal to park any vehicles we please in the parking lot; the county zoned it for five. And there’s plenty of on-street parking for our guests.” I waved my hand around to the various vehicles. West followed my wave and did a double take when he got an eyeful of Crum’s idea of suitable outdoor attire, which he’d apparently missed when he stomped over.

  “Don’t tell me that barely covered is legal, because it isn’t,” West grunted.

  “You don’t know the law very well.” I stepped closer to Crum as steam blew out West’s ears. His face reddened with anger. “Once we’ve signed the papers, if there’s still a problem, we can take it to court and let a judge decide. How about that?”

  Crum smirked openly, and West’s face turned redder, the veins on his neck sticking out.

  “You’re getting too much sun; you should have a seat under one of the umbrellas,” I said. “I’ll get you a burger, and we can get to know one another. You can also meet a few of our friends, who’ll be around all the time.” One of the women found music on her phone and turned up the sound, and she and several of her friends started gyrating around and letting their assets shake.

  West watched for several seconds before storming off.

  “Come back anytime,” Crum yelled after him.

  “You need to watch out for him,” Fab said and nodded in West’s direction as he disappeared.

  The woman had turned off her phone, so Mac hopped in the hearse, rolled down the window, and turned on the radio, letting it blare. Fab, who’d followed her, inspected the inside.