Greed in Paradise (Paradise Series) (5 page)

“Who’s that?”  I pointed to a fiftyish, overly tanned blonde with large black roots and a string bikini, who cut across the driveway from the pool area to cottage seven on the end.

“That’s Kathy Stone, the new tenant. She and her husband, Ron, will be living here for three months. They just sold their house, the big yellow waterfront on Pelican Avenue. They’re waiting to close on their new home that’s a few blocks over and in need of repairs before move-in day.”  Mac waved to her.

“There should be an age limit on the tag for male and female bikinis,” Fab said.

I agreed with Fab. I’d seen several instances of ill-fitting bathing suits parading down the beach that made me squinch my eyes closed.

“You know my preference is tourists over tenants.” Tourists tended to leave their crazy ways back in their home countries, as we tended to cater to mostly European clientele. “Did you triple check those two out?”

“Ran a background check; no criminal history. Ron’s a contractor and Kathy owns Beach Chic at the Pass. They promised three months max and they paid in full; the deposit was made in cash, and I got a cashier’s check for the first and last month.” Mac looked proud of herself.

“I’m going down there to introduce myself, and say hello to Joseph,” I said.

Shirl spoke up. “He and Svetlana are napping; he had a hard time sleeping last night.”

The best exception to my rule had been Shirl. She worked at Tarpon Cove hospital and her nursing skills came in handy with Miss January and Joseph. They both liked her, sometimes making up ailments to get her attention.

Svetlana is Joseph’s knockout, sexy Swedish girlfriend and they were inseparable. It takes a minute to realize she’s rubber, which has a fancier name, but either way, she still has to be blown up.

“I haven’t met her yet,” Fab said, “but I hear she comes with a closet full of clothes.”

“Twizzle, her first owner, liked to play dress-up,” Shirl said. “I’m surprised he didn’t request to be buried with her; they were quite close. It was thoughtful of Twizzle to will her to Joseph.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I walked down the driveway to hold a meet-and-greet with the new tenant.

I knocked politely on the door; Kathy better hope I never had cause to use my cop knock. She peeked her head out. “Yes?”

“I wanted to introduce myself. I’m the owner, Madison Westin.”

She stepped outside in a T-shirt that barely covered anything, expertly closing the door behind her, leaving no chance for a quick look. “Madison, yes I’ve heard all about you from your charming manager, Mac.”

“I just wanted to go over a couple of rules.” I smiled, despite the way she sized me up from head to toe. “If the sheriff arrives for a nuisance call, you get one freebie. The second time, you move out. No sex in the pool.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I think you’ll find we’ll be the perfect tenants.”

It didn’t go unnoticed that after answering the question, she couldn’t maintain eye contact. It impressed me that she appeared to listen intently and was still able to scan the driveway at the same time.

A warning chill flew up my spine. “I’d like to meet Ron, is he home?”

“My baby’s asleep, he works hard,” she purred, brushing her hair back. “Nice to meet you.” She cracked the door open and slipped inside, closing it before I could say another word.

If I hadn’t already done the crazy-tenant dance, I’d have missed the at-war body language. Her face was calm and unreadable. When she saw my close scrutiny, she hid her clenched fists behind her back, shifting from one foot to the other. I already looked forward to the day the Stones moved out.

Each cottage had a planter that ran along both sides. I walked back, noticing which ones needed more impatiens, flowers used for ground cover in the bare spots amongst the tropical plants. It didn’t help when the occasional tenant, usually on the run from the law, jumped out the window and trampled them to death. Add in too much heat and no matter how hard we tried, the blossoms died anyway. The rude guy at the nursery snickered, “Nothing lives forever.”

“Anything else I don’t know about?” I asked Mac.

“The fun drunks across the street got evicted by the sheriff this morning and all their stuff moved out to the curb. Most of it disappeared shortly after. People are still stopping and picking through. Good thing trash day is tomorrow,” Mac related.

“Stay out of trouble, you two,” I said. Fab and I got into the SUV. “Take me home, I need a nap.”

I woke up with big plans to do absolutely nothing the entire day. I stared out the window, at my bedroom’s view of the backyard. I had turned the concrete pad that surrounded the pool into a tropical oasis. My Aunt Elizabeth loved to plant all species of hibiscus and other tropical flowers, and I continued the tradition with potted plants that wrapped around the entire yard.

Desperate for coffee, I pulled on my black sweat shorts and a T-shirt. Unless Fab had awoken early, Jazz would be mad that no one filled his bowl with fresh food.

No wonder Jazz wasn’t howling; when I walked into the kitchen, Didier had him on the island counter feeding him cat food. I guess the cat forgot he only liked people food. It annoyed me that Jazz didn’t give everyone else the same annoying “I’m spoiled” attitude, but I bit back my words and opted for, “Good Morning.” Since my coffee consisted of a mix and water, I planned for a quick getaway to sit out by the pool and leave the lovebirds to their orange juice.

Didier nodded his head. He and Fab fit together perfectly, her head nestled against his shoulder, both of them dark-haired and blue-eyed, lean and hard. The way the two of them managed to look so hot first thing in the morning irritated me, especially since this morning I looked like a wild woman just off a bender.

“Good. You’re awake. I need your help today.” Fab poured herself another cup of coffee. “I need to retrieve a Mercedes for a bookie client of mine down in Key West.”

I’ve never said no to Fab before; in fact, I rarely said no to anyone—which needed to be corrected, as far as I was concerned.

“I’m sorry, I have a busy day,” I flat-out lied, and instantly regretted it.

Fab’s blue eyes snapped with suspicion. “I spent yesterday driving you around being my most charming self.”

“Well, maybe I’d drive myself if I could ever get my car keys away from you,” I huffed and stared out the window, watching an egret stroll down the driveway. I wanted to sit by the pool and take a nap.

Fab, hands on her hips, leaned across the island. “You’re lying. You’re going to spend the day feeling mopey and I’m sick of it,” she yelled.

“Get over it. I’m not going.” I stirred my coffee, threw the spoon in the sink, and started for the patio.

Fab grabbed my arm. “I’m calling in one of my hundreds of IOUs that say you owe me anytime I ask.”

We were having our first friend fight and it was all my fault. “I don’t want to go,” I said quietly. “I know I haven’t been that much fun, but I need a little more time.”

Fab wooshed out a breath, calming slightly. “I can’t do this by myself.”

Didier glared at me, letting me know he’d also run out of patience, which made me feel worse; he never liked Zach. He turned Fab’s face to his and said, “When do you need to leave?”

“Half an hour.” Fab looked at me.

Didier turned to me, his blue eyes boring into mine. “Go get ready.”

I had cracked under the tension and already decided to change my mind, but I instantly changed it back with a stamp of my foot. “You can’t tell me what to do!”

“Go now,” he said, and pointed upstairs, “or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and put your lovely ass in the shower and watch until you finish.”

Fab’s smirk told me I’d never win this argument. We stared at one another. I thought about my T-shirt, all wet, sticking to my body.

“Okay.” Didier pushed back his stool.

I shrieked and ran upstairs, yelling, “I hate you both.”

* * *

It felt good to put on my work outfit, grabbing up a jean skirt with plenty of pockets and a T-shirt, my Glock in its holster at the small of my back. Since I had no patience to tame my wild hair, I opted for a ponytail.

Coming down the stairs, I noticed the silence and quietly poked my head in the kitchen. Fab stared back, sitting at the island.

“Didier left,” she said, and laughed. “He had a photo shoot in Miami.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to stay home and be mopey, as you put it.”

“Those days are over.” Fab shook her finger. “Just so you know, if Didier hadn’t intervened, I planned to drag you out of here by your hair.”

“It was my lucky day when you broke into my house. Now take me to the café so I can get a caramel, whipped cream ton-of-calories coffee.”

Fab held out the car keys. “Would you like to drive?”

“Hell no,” I said, and laughed. “We don’t have all day—as you constantly remind me.”

* * *

Fab rocketed down the Overseas Highway past tidal flats and teal waters dotted by distant islands. The two-lane highway in each direction stretched across expanses of water, the Atlantic spreading out to the left and the Gulf to the right.

“How’s life with Didier?” I asked.

“He’s the only man I’ve ever been with I don’t have to hide who I am. We discuss my cases. He talks me out of the ones where I’d be jumping out of second-floor windows—thank goodness I landed in the trash that time—and the cases where guns would be a sure thing. He jerks me back from my reckless plans and plants my feet solidly back on firm ground. His most effective method is those baby blues of his turned on me as he says softly, ‘You disappoint me, love.’ I’d rather fight.”

“Would he have followed through on his threat this morning?” My cheeks glowed pink with embarrassment.

“He worries about you.” She looked at me. “I asked him the same thing and he just laughed.” Fab cut around another SUV and back in front. “Probably.”

I thought about calling his bluff, but was grateful I’d lost my nerve. “What’s this case about and why do you have a bookie for a client?”

“Doug Scott, a.k.a. ‘The Client.’ He’s a referral from Brick. It’s a dispute with one of his clients over money and who owed what. The Swan brothers boosted his Mercedes and decided to hold the car hostage until the debt was settled, so Doug paid up, but then they refused to return the car. Doug, having bought the car from Brick, had him activate the locator box and we know its location.”

“A Brick job?”

Fab had her own private investigator license and took jobs from him that required her “special” investigation skills. She could pick a lock in seconds, and with no fear of heights, she had no trouble scaling the sides of buildings.

Zach always called her on his hard-core jobs; that’s how she and I met. Zach regretted ever introducing us. We became fast friends and I jumped at the chance to be her back-up, running interference in most cases.

“This is a simple job. We drive up, I’ve got a key. I’ll get behind the wheel and we both drive away. No shots exchanged, hopefully.” Fab turned onto Duval Street and, to her credit, her driving had been less hair-raising than usual. Today, she slowed for bikers and walkers.

“Last time we had a job in Key West, I saved your life,” I reminded her. That had been yet another retrieval job that seemed so simple; that is, until a homeless drug addict appeared out of nowhere with his paws on Fab and his eyes on her ride.

Key West is one of my favorite vacation spots, with a combo of sun, water, and friendly people, not to mention my faves—shopping and food. I’d taken every tour, learning the highlights of the southernmost tip of the United States. Hemingway’s house was a standout; I loved the six-toed cats that were in residence.

After a few turns, Fab pointed to the white Mercedes sitting in front of a wood one-story conch-style house, typical on this particular block.

“There it is,” she said.

The tangerine-colored residence sat on low posts, and although a front porch ran the width of the house, there was not a single chair.

I unhooked my seatbelt and twisted around in the seat, looking up and down the street. “Based on our track record, this is too easy. Take your time and circle the block.”

“Doesn’t look like anyone is home.” Fab drove slowly, checking out the neighbors on each side.

I sat on my knees and hung on to the back of the seat. A nineties black Chevy Impala caught my eye, the windows down. Someone on the passenger side ducked and crouched down out of view.

“Since I don’t believe in coincidence, I think we’ve got company,” I said. “Any reason someone else would like to hook up with the Swan brothers?”

“Word on the street is that the brothers are a pair to stay away from. I’ll park around the corner, sneak back, and poke a gun in the window to get some answers.”

“That’s a terrible idea. Park and I’ll walk by the car and casually check it out like I live in the neighborhood.”

I swept my hair into a ponytail and fished out my largest pair of dark sunglasses from the console. It took less than five minutes to circle the block on foot and arrive back at the SUV.

“Tell me why the DEA is staking out that house?” I hopped back into my SUV. To my shock, I knew the man crouched in the front seat. We watched a dark-haired guy round the corner from the opposite direction, grocery bag in his arms. He sauntered slowly, checking out every house before climbing into the driver’s side of the sedan.

“What are you talking about?” Fab groaned.

“Paulo, your regrettable one-night stand, is staked out in the car with a bag of Cheetos and a soda. I’m guessing his partner, Grove, just joined him with another bag of junk food.” Paulo and Grove were a grungy pair of undercover detectives, and friends of Brick’s brother, Casio, a Miami police detective who I heard got another promotion. “I suppose Paulo also whispered drunken French to you?”

“Italian.” Fab looked at me and we laughed. “I can’t deal with him. He’s a pig.”

“I hope they remember me when I climb in the backseat, and don’t shoot me.” I jerked my beach bag over the seat and shimmied out of my jean skirt. I wrapped a cotton sarong around my middle, put on a tankini top, tied my T-shirt around my waist to hide my Glock, and slid back into my flip-flops.