Initiation in Paradise

by Deborah Brown

  “A landline? That’s a rarity. Why doesn’t the daughter get off her duff? While we’re at it, why would she send Gunz?”

  “Gunz’s family is close-knit, and if there’s a problem, everything is referred to him and he delegates.” Fab shrugged.

  I stopped short of snorting. I’d met two of the family members, who were certifiable and loved a good fight.

  Fab’s phone pinged with a message, which she opened and read. “Ms. Leona is a nurse, and she can’t run out on her patients.”

  “If it was my mother, I’d be worried too. Did you inquire if the woman would be gunned up?”

  “Just when I thought you were being very sweet. I take it back.” Fab smiled sneakily. “I told Gunz that you were coming with me and perfect for the job. We’re the perfect pair.”

  “I’m not certain if you meant that as a compliment.” I laughed at her glare.

  Kevin marched over and peered down at us. “What do you two know?”

  “I’m sure you’d agree—nothing.” I sucked down the last of my coffee, sorry to see my cup empty.

  His lips quirked. “About this incident.” He flicked his finger at the stretcher being loaded in the back of the ambulance.

  I shrugged and looked at Fab.

  “Nothing,” Fab said.

  “Is this a case of stolen bakery goods?” I asked.

  “That, and stupid tried to rob the register. He wasn’t successful at either,” Kevin informed us.

  “I need to go and check on my friend’s grandmother.” Fab smiled sweetly. “It’s not like you don’t know where to find us if you have more questions.”

  Kevin looked ready to snap cuffs on her. Lucky her that being annoying wasn’t an arrestable offense.

  “Here’s what we know,” I interrupted the stare-down. “Someone yelled. He tripped and was out. You arrived.”

  “Was that so difficult?” Kevin asked Fab and walked off.

  “I think he likes us,” Fab said.

  I laughed.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It was a beautiful day for a drive up Highway One, sunny with white fluffy clouds dotting the sky. It was mild by the usual standards, and a light breeze blew off the water from both sides of the road.

  Fab took the cut-off to Palmetto Bay, a small town on the eastern coast of the state. She turned onto a quiet street in a well-kept neighborhood of older homes and green, manicured lawns.

  Eloise Leona’s home was in the middle of the block opposite where another street intersected, and the streets were narrow, leaving no room for on-street parking. The driveway was a weed patch of broken concrete. Green and black fungus grew up the side of the crumbling cream stucco two-story house, which showed signs of neglect and disrepair.

  “It’s creepy-looking,” I whispered.

  Fab hit the brakes and swerved to avoid a Golden Retriever that had run off the property and into the street. She turned onto a side street and looped back around. The dog hadn’t disappeared, but had gotten out of the road and now sat on the sagging curb. Having decided there was no way to park in front of the house and run up to the door without taking up half the road, she backed down the intersecting street and parked facing Leona’s house.

  I reached behind the seat and took my tennis shoes out of my bag. “What?” I said to Fab’s questioning look, throwing my sandals on the back seat. “I’m not going to trudge up the broken path and through ankle-length weeds to the front door in sandals. My good deed doesn’t deserve to be repaid with bug bites on my feet.”

  Fab also swapped out her shoes. “What’s up with the dog?”

  “Maybe he’s lost. You ask him.”

  We got out and headed in the direction of the house, and the dog ran toward us, got within arm’s length, stopped, and began to bark.

  “Stomp your foot like the badass you are and maybe it will run home.” I laughed at her scowl. “Hey, pooch.” I held out the back of my hand for the obligatory sniff, but the dog continued to bark, then ran in circles, only to start barking again. He hadn’t run away and wasn’t aggressive, and I suspected he was trying to tell us something. “Unless you can decipher dog-speak, I’m thinking he wants us to follow him.”

  “He’s not our client.” Fab jerked on my arm. “This way. We’ll cut around him and he can run home.”

  That great idea only lasted a second. The dog continued to bark, now running alongside us.

  “It’s probably Eloise’s dog, who got out for a romp and she hasn’t noticed and let him back inside,” I reasoned.

  Within feet of the door, the dog stopped barking and started whimpering. He head-butted my leg, and I reached down to scratch him. “It’s been a while since we needed a dog treat. Hopefully, Eloise will have one, and if the dog’s not hers, she’ll know who owns it.”

  The greying and faded drapes were drawn across the windows. Fab rang the bell, but neither of us heard any sound. She opened what was left of the screen door—the bottom half had been chewed away—and raised her hand to knock on the weathered door, then dropped it suddenly and pushed the door open into the mildew-musty living room.

  “Mrs. Leona,” Fab called. “Eloise.”

  The dog, who’d hung back, bounded inside and skittered across the darkened living room, skidding to a stop next to a body that lay face down, a knife protruding from its back.

  I pinched Fab’s arm to stop her from taking another step. She grunted, and I pointed to the carpet, where the body lay in a pool of blood that had seeped through the fibers. An overturned side table, a broken lamp, books strewn about…judging by the disarray, they’d put up a fight. From this distance, and with the victim’s head turned away, it was hard to tell if they were male or female. The bathrobe suggested that it was a woman, one with short grey hair. I wasn’t going to volunteer to make the sad phone call to Mrs. Leona’s daughter. Unless this was her handiwork or—I drew my Glock and looked around the room—the killer was still here.

  Fab had come to the same conclusion and drew her weapon.

  “We need to get the heck out of here and take the dog with us; his bloody paw prints everywhere aren’t going to be helpful.”

  “Careful where you step,” Fab admonished.

  “Poochy,” I called and slapped my thigh, and to my relief, the dog responded. I backed up towards the door, double-checking with each step I took, and clucked at the dog. I didn’t stop until I’d crossed the street and was leaning against the bumper of the SUV. “Sit,” I told the dog and scratched his head.

  Fab wasn’t hot on my heels, but that didn’t surprise me. I had no plans to move from my post unless I heard a scream.

  It didn’t take long before Fab reappeared, phone to her ear. After a few words, she hung up. “Gunz wants us to handle whatever this turns out to be.” She hit the speaker button and made a call.

  “911, what’s your emergency?” the call-taker asked.

  “I’m calling to report a…” Fab looked at me.

  “Murder. You can’t knife yourself in the back,” I said for her.

  “Are you certain the person is dead?”

  “I’m certain. Her skin is a bluish color.” Fab squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.

  The woman on the other end of the phone asked the address and then a series of other questions. “Did you look around inside? Are there any other victims?”

  “There’s no one else on the first floor. I didn’t go upstairs.”

  “Go to a safe place and stay there. I’ll stay on the line with you until officers arrive.” As I walked away, I could hear the call-taker asking more questions: “How do you know the victim? Why did you go there and when did you arrive?”

  I whistled to Poochy, who I swear looked back at me with a That’s a whistle? Expression, but stuck to my side. I opened the liftgate and motioned for the dog to hop up.

  Fab rounded the side of the SUV, thrusting her phone at me.

  I crossed my arms. “Aren’t you supposed to be talking to the 911 woman?”

/>   “We got disconnected.” Fab jabbed her phone at my chest. “You need to call the daughter and break the news.”

  “On the phone.” I squirmed and took it from her. “The cops generally perform this unpleasant job, and they have experience.”

  “Carrie is expecting a call from her mother, and we’ve got to tell her something. It’s not a situation to lie about, and let’s face it, there’s no good way to hear this news.”

  She’d ignored my suggestion to let the cops handle the call. I’d ask, “why me?” but I already know the answer. I stared at the screen.

  “Find out what we’re supposed to do with the dog,” Fab said.

  I hesitated to push dial for the number Fab had pulled up on the screen. “We don’t even know that the person inside is Eloise Leone.”

  “Yes, we do. I did a visual ID. She matches the picture Gunz sent me.”

  “You’re so gruesome.” I shuddered and took a deep breath, backing up against the bumper and sliding into the back next to the dog, feet hanging out the opening. Fab leaned against the side. I pushed the button and was a little surprised when the nurse’s desk at the hospital answered, since I was expecting it to be a personal number.

  When Carrie Leone came on the line, I took another deep breath. “This is Madison Westin. I’m here at your mother’s house at the request of Mr. Gunz, and I’m sorry to tell you that your mother is deceased.”

  After a long silence, she asked breathlessly, “Are you certain?”

  “I’m very sorry to break the news to you this way,” I said sadly. “The paramedics are on the way, as well as the police, and they’ll be able to answer your questions better than me. I can have them call you at this number or however you’d like.”

  “The two of us had dinner together last night and enjoyed ourselves,” Carrie said, sounding stunned. “We laughed; we shared stories. At least we had that.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I sighed and hung my head, not sure what to say next. I let the silence drag on until Carrie was ready to speak. If I were in her shoes, I’d want someone to listen to both the said and the unsaid. I ended up breaking the silence. “I hear sirens.”

  “I’ll need to make arrangements to get away from work,” Carrie said.

  “About the dog?” I asked.

  “Max?” Carrie heaved a sigh. “You’ll need to take him to the pound. They can find him a home. I’m not able to take him. I work long hours and don’t care for animals.”

  “They’ll euthanize him.” I wanted to yell, “I’m not doing that,” but bit back the words.

  “Please don’t make me feel worse than I already do,” Carrie scolded, the grieving daughter replaced by a professional who’d seen it all. “I have my mother to deal with, and that’s my first priority.”

  “The police just pulled up, and I’m sure they’ll have questions. I’ll give them your number so they can contact you directly.”

  “Please do that. I’ll text you my cell number. I’m on my way.” Carrie hung up.

  Fab met the cops as one parked behind the other and both got out and approached her.

  “Max, huh?” The dog eyed me expectantly as I scratched his head. “I promise you, I’m not taking you to the freaking pound. My dog skills aren’t up to par, but I do have treat-sneaking skills. I’m certain Eloise would want you to have another happy home.”

  One of the officers broke off and came over with a determined stride. “You okay?” he asked.

  “I…uh…” I stuttered through what I’d seen and told him that I’d immediately backed up. “The daughter isn’t taking the dog, so I will,” I said. “You wouldn’t happen to have a leash?”

  “I’ve got some rope I’ll get you. Stay right here; I’ll have more questions for you.”

  He left and joined his partner, who’d opened his trunk. The two put on booties and stayed off the concrete as they made their way to the door. They went inside and, judging by the time lapse, gave the scene a cursory check and came back out.

  I shifted my position to sit with my back against one side, knees drawn up. From my vantage point, I had a view of the front of the property. Max crawled over and rested his head on my thigh.

  The neighbors had begun to gather in small groups in the middle of the street.

  One man walked over and asked me, “What’s going on?”

  “Mrs. Leone has passed on,” I said, not about to add to the drama with salacious details. Those would get out soon enough.

  The cops stood in the street at the end of the sidewalk and questioned Fab. One went back to his patrol car before heading in my direction, notepad in hand. His presence got rid of the nosey neighbor.

  He gave me a reassuring smile, asking my name, address, and contact number. Then he fired one question after another at me: how did I know the victim, why had I come to the house, what time did I arrive? Did I see anyone leaving or anyone in the area when we pulled up? Did I know anyone who would want to harm the victim? Where was I before coming to the house?

  I answered his questions in a straightforward fashion, knowing that I was zero help. He thanked me and walked over to meet the detectives who’d just arrived. Two crime scene technicians in a van parked right behind them and got out, grabbing oversize briefcases and cameras. The converging streets were now blocked with law enforcement vehicles.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Creole.

  “Hey, babe,” he answered.

  Tears stung at my eyelids. I gulped in air.

  “What happened?” he demanded.

  “The welfare check, Eloise Leona, she’s dead.”

  “Didier,” he yelled, then said to me, “Okay to put you on speaker?”

  I mumbled my agreement. “Mrs. Leone was murdered,” I said, whispering the last word.

  “Just breathe,” Creole said. “Where’s Fab?”

  “She’s with the cops and so professional; you’d be proud of her. I’m the one who feels like I’m coming apart at the seams. I’m trying to hang in there and be helpful where I can.” I relayed the details from when we arrived at the property to the gruesome discovery.

  “We can be there in an hour,” Creole offered.

  “No need. Neither of us got hurt. I’m certain that after a hundred more questions, they’ll let us go. Fab and I need to be here when the daughter arrives, in case she needs someone to lean on. Then we’re headed home.”

  “Call when you leave,” Creole said.

  “Tell Fab to call,” Didier said.

  “Will do.” I hung up and leaned my head against the back window, closing my eyes and petting Max absently.

  “You awake?” Fab poked her head inside.

  “Tell me we can go now?” I asked, opening my eyes.

  “We haven’t been released yet. What about the dog?”

  “I’m going to find Max a temporary home and, with any luck, a permanent one. You’re going to deal with Carrie Leone when she shows up. Deal?” I stuck out my hand, which Fab ignored.

  “I overheard the cops talking,” Fab said, annoyed that I shook my head accusingly. Of course, she did. “What? I was standing within a foot; they had to know I could hear, and they didn’t tell me to get lost.”

  “Tell me already.”

  “There are drops of blood from the front door and along the concrete that fade out just past the curb.” Fab pointed directly across the street. “That’s why you see more cars rolling up.”

  I looked out the window and noticed that two unmarked cars and three more cop cars had pulled up.

  “One of the neighbors told the cops that Eloise is friends with a fiftyish woman who lives nearby; he’s seen her come and go from the house a number of times lately.”

  “That’s a wide disparity in age; more like mother and daughter than friends.”

  Max started panting.

  “This dog is thirsty and probably hungry. Can’t we use that as an excuse to leave?” I asked. “If not, then wiggle your way over to one of the lookie-loo neigh
bors—your best bet would a man—and shake him down for a bowl that we’ll return before we leave.”

  A tall, middle-aged woman with a blond bob decked out in scrubs approached on foot from the opposite end of the block. I’d bet on it being Carrie Leone. I wasn’t going to be the one to have the sad conversation with the woman. It should have been Gunz, but he hated drama of any kind, and his first option would be to foist it off on someone else. I nudged Fab with my foot and looked over her shoulder.

  Fab turned and caught sight of the woman and, to my surprise, didn’t tell me to get moving and go talk to her. She closed the distance and, after a short conversation, walked her over to the officer in charge. Max raised his head as the two walked by, but showed no interest and laid back down, closing his eyes.

  A detective approached and introduced himself. “You doing okay?”

  “I don’t know how you do this every day.” I grimaced.

  “Thankfully, it’s not every day. We have a low crime rate here in Palmetto Bay.” He asked all the same questions as the previous officer, which I answered in the same straightforward fashion. “If you remember anything else, no matter how small, call me.” He handed me his business card. “You’re free to go.”

  I slid out and went around, lowering the back seat so Max could sit right behind us. I grabbed a bottle of water, rinsed out my coffee cup, and filled it, holding it out for the dog, who lapped it up.

  Fab didn’t waste time getting back in the car once she was cleared to go by the cops. I’d already gotten into the front.

  “I’m going to ask Creole to put the word out to his friends who’re still on the force that we’d like to know the who, how, and why of this case. I’d suggest asking Gunz, but I doubt he’ll even inquire about the details.” Once we were back on the highway headed south, I texted Creole, as promised.

  “And doggie?” Fab smiled at the big head hanging between the seats.