Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 06 - Revenge in Paradise (12 page)

“Since you’re staying here,” I told Brad, “your job is to keep the crazies in line.”

“So far it’s been quiet. I did tell Joseph he can’t hump his girlfriend in the driveway anymore.”

I covered Liam’s ears and mouthed, “Hump?”

“If you don’t look closely, Svetlana looks real. I feel bad for him. He told me he has crap taste in women,” Liam said.

I cuffed him lightly alongside his head.

“I just repeated what he said.” Liam flashed an innocent look.

“Shirl has some man sneaking in and out. He arrives late, leaves before daylight. She’s a nice woman, needs to find someone who shows their face no matter the time of day. I’m hoping all this subterfuge doesn’t mean he’s wanted,” Brad sighed.

“You cheat,” Mac screamed at Fab.

Fab laughed in her face. “You owe me and I’ll be collecting.”

“I don’t know why Fab can’t let a person win once in a while,” I said. Fab had out hopped Mac. How did a person win at that game anyway?

“I’ve got to get her out of here before Mac quits. Barbeque this weekend. I’ll assign the food to Mother,” I said.

“We’ll bring dessert,” Liam offered. “I know what to pick out.”

Liam took his dessert-bringer job seriously. He insisted on The Bakery Café, everyone in the family’s favorite restaurant. He always came with at least two familiar pink bakery boxes, one a sure favorite and he always picked an untried choice.

Brad tossed Liam the basketball and they dribbled their way back to the hoop. Fab and Mac slipped off to the office. Those two, left unsupervised, could lead to trouble.

A colorful plastic pencil bag left on the cement table in the barbeque area caught my eye. Patio furniture disappeared at an alarming rate in this neighborhood, which is why I bought a large table and had it chained down. The cement benches weren’t going anywhere. Some people took pride in kicking back in a stolen chair rather than buying a cheap one from the purple-haired woman who hocked tourist gear for cheap around the corner.

It wasn’t unheard of for a stray person to wander in off the street and use the barbeque area for their own enjoyment. It ran parallel to the street and offered no privacy, so I had a few bougainvillea planted along the chain link fence. There was no killing that pink, prickly flower.

I unzipped the bag and heard a movement behind me, but before I could turn, a big hand wrapped me in a bear hug. Squeezing the breath out of me, he turned me slightly, his hand around my neck holding me in place.

The man’s eyes were fogged and he twitched uncontrollably, clearly in withdrawal. He looked as though he’d been sleeping in the alley or someplace equally as filthy, and the stench rolling off him made me gag. I struggled not to throw up and instead concentrated on breathing.

“Give me Edsel’s stuff,” he barked. “And do it now,” he added, holding me tight against his chest. “I have every right. I’m Edsel’s brother, Ford. I want what’s his.” He breathed heavy into my ear. “He doesn’t need it anymore. Could be worth a few bucks. I’ve got to have the cash now.”

“He never lived here,” I whispered. I gave up trying to jerk out of his grasp; he just increased the pressure on my windpipe.

“That bitch girlfriend of his did. Jami told me so herself. Said she lived in this cottage.”

So that’s why he’d come from the back side of the cottage, searching for another entrance perhaps and only finding a bathroom window, which the bag of bones would never be able to squeeze through. He’d once weighed considerably more, judging by the skin hanging around his neck.

He loosened his grip.

I drew in a deep breath. “She lied. Now let me go.”

He doubled his fist back and I tried to move, but he landed a hit just above my cheekbone.

“Want some more?” He stuck his face in mine, blowing a foul odor at me. “No stuff, then you’re going to make up for the inconvenience. Give me a few hundred bucks and I’ll be on my way.”

I nodded my head, pain shooting through my face. My eyes were glued to him, hoping to deflect the next punch or whatever else he might do.

“I don’t think Jami killed him,” the corpse spat. “Did you know he screwed everyone he met? Equal opportunity fuck––men, women, and the occasional underage kid. A lot of people knew he was a piece of shit and most didn’t give a crap, looked the other way.” He looked disgusted by his brother’s behavior, forgetting his own abhorrent actions.

I didn’t dare struggle, since it only made him increase the pressure against my neck.

“About my money,” he demanded.

Ford yelped, suddenly loosening his grip, and stumbled backward.

“Get your hands off her or I’ll put a bullet in your spine. Guaranteed, you’ll never walk again,” Fab said, cool under pressure.

I knelt to the cement, struggling to catch a full breath, my throat burning.

Ford lunged at Fab in full fury, fingers wiggling. He wanted to take her down, but she landed a direct hit to his manhood, sending him crumpling to the ground, mewling unintelligible shrieking sounds.

“What the hell?” Brad roared, racing up next to Fab. Mac puffed up seconds later.

“Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.” Fab kicked Ford in his mid-section—not once, but twice—and ran to the SUV, returning with handcuffs. “You might want to call your almost-brother-in-law,” Fab told Brad.

“I’m calling.” Liam held up his phone.

Brad scooped me up off the ground, depositing me carefully onto a bench. “You better be okay.” He kissed my head, arm around me.

“Edsel’s brother, Ford.” My voice came out as a croak, and I told him everything he said. “I think the bag belongs to him,” I said, and pointed to the table.

He peered inside and nodded. “Probably, unless you know another crack addict. It’s one way to carry around a pipe and other paraphernalia.” He shook his head.

“I asked around the docks about Edsel, not a single person had a good word. Mostly they had warnings about his temper and how he got off on beating a woman.” Brad grimaced.

A local sheriff’s car blew in the driveway. Kevin got out, kicked the door shut, and stomped over.

“Why in the hell is my nephew involved in one of your messes?” he bellowed.

“Back off,” Brad jumped up and yelled back. “This is Edsel’s drug-addicted brother, Ford, looking for money. How is that Madison’s fault?”

I ran my hand down his arm and shook my head, a gentle reminder that he dated the man’s sister. This might be the final straw; Kevin hated that Julie and Liam lived here and constantly demanded they move to someplace sane. Julie resisted thus far, but I noticed she’d started to run out of patience for all the drama. The thought made me sad.

Kevin eyed Ford who was all curled up in a fetal position. “What did you do to him?” He kicked Ford’s shoe, who responded with a groan.

“Fab kicked him in the nuts when he lunged at Madison. He came here hoping to break in and steal, and when he couldn’t squeeze his ass in the window, he attacked my sister. Why is this piece of shit and his dead brother allowed on the streets?” Brad had somewhat reined in his temper.

Cottage ten had seen its fair share of drama. It had burned down when drug cooking went awry, and was used as a dumping ground for the dead body of a person no one in the neighborhood had ever seen before. And it had also been home to a nice assortment of felons.

Kevin dragged Ford to his feet and shoved him in the backseat of his patrol car. To Brad he said, “I’ll be back after shift change and, if Julie’s not home, I’ll take Liam with me.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Liam told him, standing next to Brad.

Whether Kevin liked it or not, Brad spent more time with Liam than he did, and the two had formed a strong bond.

Miss January and her boyfriend wandered up looking bedraggled, sand stuck to their legs and dirt on their clothes.

She waved and said, “Hi,” in a drunken slur.

He belched.

Kevin rolled his eyes and marched around to the driver’s side of his patrol car.

I groaned and opened my eyes when I realized the irritating noise was coming from my phone. Middle of the night calls signaled someone was either in the hospital or needed bail money. I wagered the latter since it had been a while since I’d gotten that sort of phone call.

“Can you pick me up? I just got released from jail,” Joseph whined. “I’m at Homestead this time.”

“I don’t know why you can’t get arrested locally. I’ll be there as soon as I find the place.”

I jumped out of bed and pulled on my favorite crop sweats and a sweatshirt. Good thing Creole hadn’t spent the night; I don’t know what he would have thought of the early morning jail run. I also wondered why the jails couldn’t release people at civilized hours, but I suppose their guests didn’t care as long as they were out, even if they had no transportation and no place to go.

I input the address in my GPS and breathed a sigh when it didn’t beep that it was in Creole’s no-man’s land. I planned to keep quiet about this little pick-up, wait and see if he brought it up, then I’d know whether he was tracking me in general. Fab suspected as much and had threatened to have it taken out, smashed with a sledgehammer, and thrown in the back of his truck on his next visit. The only thing stopping her, I guessed, would be Didier’s extreme disapproval.

Once I left the Keys, it looked and felt like another world. Gone were the blue-green waters of the Gulf of Mexico and lush greenery dotting the horizon. I was now surrounded by concrete on an efficient highway.

In the past, Joseph chose a bus bench a short walk away from the jail. They were a good meeting point since buses didn’t generally start running again until daylight. This time he made it to the corner and sat there with another man, who had his head between his legs. I made a U-turn and pulled up in front of the duo.

Joseph opened the door. “Can my friend get a ride––we got released at the same time,” he said and looked over his shoulder. “He’s not sick, he’s sore from stealing something and hiding it in his butt thinking the cops wouldn’t find it.” The man’s face was black and blue, one eye puffed shut.

“What in the hell happened to you?” I looked him over, wishing I’d turned off my phone.

“I fell,” he mumbled, his gaze sliding to the ground.

“Why is he still in a jail uniform?” I asked.

The streets were deserted but sitting at a vacant bus stop only invited trouble.

“I guess he came in naked.” Joseph seemed surprised by the question.

The man poked his head in the door behind Joseph. “Please,” he begged.

No good deed goes unpunished, some cynics say––and weren’t they right.

“Get in,” I motioned. “Where does he live?”

“Drop us off at The Cottages, Bungee lives a couple of streets over.” Joseph got in the front while his friend stretched out on his stomach on the back seat.

I headed back to the Keys, just over the speed limit, keeping an eye out for speed traps.

“I’ll get right to the point: What did you do this time?” I asked.

“I got into a disagreement, guy says I cheated him on a car part. I didn’t guarantee it would work, stupid ass should read the fine print.”

“Stolen car parts?”

“I buy really cheap,” he sniffed, “and sell cheaper than anyone else. Gives me extra money on the side.” He looked over the seat at his friend who had started to snore. “I threw the first punch, missed, and fell face first onto the concrete. When I came to, I was already handcuffed. Guy says I beat him up, but he doesn’t have a scratch. Cops charged me with assault and various drunken charges.”

“You make me tired. You’re on death’s door and you’re out carousing, picking fights. Couldn’t you just run out the back door of whatever dumpy bar you were in?”

I didn’t feel like telling Joseph that trick worked for me once in grade school, only thing was I had to be careful what part of the playground I played in for the rest of the year. The best part: I met Cheryl, who was a lot bigger than my toothpick self, and she became my bodyguard of sorts. Our friendship lasted for years until we were separated by going to different colleges.

“And what happened to the man you attacked?” I shook my head.

“Even though I told the cops I planned to press charges, they let him go.” Joseph sneered.

“I don’t know why you can’t get in trouble in the Cove. I better not see him,”—I pointed to the back seat—“hanging around The Cottages. Why didn’t you need bail, when you have serious charges pending and a rap sheet of misdemeanors a mile long?”

“Yeah, about that, don’t get mad...” He wouldn’t make eye contact. “I heard someone talking to Famosa about bail and got on the phone before the time ran out and used your name.”

Like visits, jail phone calls had a time limit and it was a good thing because they cost about three dollars a minute, charged to the receiver’s bill.

It was all I could do to not pull to the side of the road and push them both out the door. “How much?”

He hesitated. “Twenty-five thousand.”

I ground my teeth together. The dentist told me to stop doing that unless I preferred my teeth to be swimming in a jar at night. “Where did you get the ten percent and what assets did you pledge for the rest?”

“I told him you’d cover it.”

“You’re a dick,” I yelled. “I don’t care that you’re a sick old man, tomorrow you’re going to call Brick and tell him you screwed him good.”

“But,” he sputtered, “what will I say?”

“Try the truth. In case I don’t see you again after tomorrow, it was nice having you as a tenant––sometimes.”

“Didier and I are taking a drive down the Keys today,” Fab informed me when I walked into the kitchen, her innocent face in place, peering at me over her cup of early-morning sludge.

“No-you-are-not.” I banged my can of coffee mix on the island. “Don’t think about leaving or I’ll drag your ass back here and cuff you to the furniture.”

Didier walked up behind me, putting his arms around me and kissing my cheek. “Bon jour,” he whispered against my ear.

Fab shook her head, wanting me to keep quiet.