Murder in Paradise (Paradise Series) (23 page)

“Why would Ivers hire you? You’re not qualified,” Zach snorted.

Creole’s kiss left my nerves stretched tight. “I am, too, damn it,” I blew out a loud breath of frustration. “I juggled the paperwork on all of Jax’s projects and was good at it, and everyone made money. Take a nap or something.”

“How long are you staying?” Mother asked Zach, sitting in a chair across from him.

“A few days.” Zach smirked at Mother. “We may make it permanent and live together. I’d like Madison to move into the warehouse.”

The front door banged open. “Anyone home?” Brad called.

Now what? I looked at my watch. I hated it when people were late and I didn’t tolerate it in myself.

“Doesn’t anyone call first?” Zach asked.

“You don’t, and neither does anyone else. And that’s my brother.”

Brad set a big cooler on the kitchen island. “We’re having fresh grouper for dinner. Fresh out of the Gulf this morning.” After every trip, Brad always shared fish with the family; you’d think we’d get tired of it. There were perks to having a commercial fisherman in the family.

Julie followed in behind, setting down a large salad bowl and shopping bag. Liam had a pink dessert box.

Liam ran over and hugged me. “I like family dinners.”

“Madison,” Brad said, “I called the cook at your dive bar and he’s delivering that rice everyone likes and vegetables on skewers for barbequing.”

Liam threw himself on the end of the couch and stared at Zach. “Who beat you up?”

“Car accident,” Zach grumbled.

If Liam noticed Zach glare at him, he didn’t let on. He clearly wasn’t impressed with Zach’s explanation.

“He’s so modest.” I stood protectively behind Liam. “Six guys jumped him in an alley, he beat them all off and they’re in the hospital.”

“Way cool,” Liam laughed. “I’d tell everybody Madison’s version of it if it was me.”

Julie and Brad sat in the oversized chair together, my most favorite piece of furniture. Aunt Elizabeth had purchased the chair in an upscale beach store and I’d had it re-covered.

“Dude, you look like crap,” Brad said to Zach.

Mother piped up. “Zach and Madison are moving in together.”

Brad slapped his knee and laughed. “Twenty bucks says you don’t last a week.”

Liam grabbed my ringing phone off the island and handed it to me when I came into the kitchen. “I’m on my way,” I answered, then asked Julie, “Will you look after Zach while I’m gone? I’ll hurry back.”

Zach pointed to my phone, hand up; he wanted me to tell him about the call. “I’ll go with you,” he said.

Mother, hot on my heels, opened the refrigerator door and stuck her head in, then laughed. She knew questioning me drove me crazy. “I’ll hurry,” I told Zach. I rushed out the door before one more person could say a word.

Zach needed to understand, there’d be a snowstorm in hell before I moved into his warehouse. I’d only gone back to his loft once since I shot someone in the living room. If there were to be any house playing, it would have to be at my house. He would need to get used to the fact that people came and went and that wouldn’t change. It only bothered me when someone pointed a gun.

* * *

I pulled up to Clean Bubbles and the city pickup truck sat in one of the wash bays. It surprised me to see one of my aunt’s friends, whom I hadn’t seen since the funeral, leaning against the wall.

“Hi, Quatro,” I said. He’d earned the nickname because he had four fingers on each hand.

I nodded to Ben, the project manager. The first time I met him he fidgeted around, a tall string bean, just out of prison. Long hours in the sun had been good for him; he filled out, had a dark tan, and carried himself with confidence. One of Spoon’s boys. Ben had driven the getaway car in a bank robbery. His words: “I was young and stupid, looking for a free ride, and thankfully no one died.” Ben proved his skills at Jake’s, he managed the men, followed my directions, and refrained from telling me I didn’t know what I was talking about. We worked well together.

Quatro handed me his business card. “I don’t think I told you, but Elizabeth’s funeral was the best I’ve ever been to.” He had trimmed his beer gut to fit into his city uniform of jean shorts and a city-monogrammed golf shirt.

 “I didn’t know you worked for the county.” I looked at his card.

“I drive around all day, post the appropriate stickers, and schmooze my ass off. Lunch with the guys at Roscoe’s every day. Now there’s a cheap bastard. Good hamburgers, but we have to bring our own chairs.” 

Roscoe’s served the best burgers in The Keys. But after a couple of fights broke out, he discouraged loitering. His policy: Take your food and go home.

“Did we pass inspection?” I asked.

“The electrical reports came across my desk; I got my butt over here quick. Must have cost a pretty penny to update from knob and tube.” Quatro tapped his clipboard, hooking his pen inside his shirt. “You’re all signed off and legal.”

“Appreciate your speed. Stop by Jake’s anytime and have a beer on me.” I had tucked a couple of business cards in my pocket and handed him one.

“Surprised old man Ivers didn’t bulldoze. Who washes their own car? They’re usually a front for money laundering.”

“Another week for paint and we’ll be done here,” Ben told me.

“Got two more inspections. You need anything expedited, give me call.” Quatro shook hands with Ben.

Ben checked out Quatro’s hand with a look of surprise. “Dude, what happened to your fingers?”

I wanted to ask the same question but hadn’t figured a way to work it into the conversation. The funeral didn’t seem appropriate.

“An old girlfriend hacked off one during a fight. The other got cut off in a snow blower.” Quatro flexed his remaining fingers.

Why did it take a missing finger or other appendage for some men to realize the girlfriend’s unstable? My guess is in the pursuit of hot sex, the littler brain thinks it’s worth the chance. “Snow blower? In Florida?” 

“Picked it up in a garage sale. Thought I could fix it and sell it to a snowbird. Can you believe the doctors couldn’t sew either finger back on?  I kept them, but eventually the dog ate them both.”

There was a moment of silence. I didn’t dare look at Ben; I might start laughing.

“What happened to the dog?” Ben asked.

“Pinto died from old age; a collie, the best dog ever.” Quatro pulled out his keys. “Now I’ve got two Saint Bernards the size of small horses. The neighbors moved away and left them locked up in a rental house. They complained about how big they got. I asked them once if they ever looked at their paws; that would be a tip-off as to how big they’d get.”

“Why leave them locked up?” Who thought that was a good idea? “Couldn’t they take them to the pound or rescue or something?” I hated stories of animal cruelty.

“Jӓger and Whiskey got a good home now. My grandkids love them. I think the dogs are secretly glad the kids don’t live with us. They need rest time to build their stamina before the next play date.” Quatro checked his watch. “I’ve got another stop.” He waved and got in his truck.

 “I’ve started my own gig.” Ben handed me a card. “You got any more jobs, call me direct. Spoon still sends referrals.”

“I’m also happy to give you a reference. Every job you’ve done for me has been excellent.”

“I met your mother, she’s a live one.” Ben gave me a half smile nod of his head. “Gave me a cigar. A little strong, so I smoke two, three puffs at a time.”

My phone rang. I looked at the screen and groaned. “Zach.” I pushed ignore. “See you at the grand re-opening.”

“I’m with four fingers. The only time this place had a lineup had to do with illegal business and nothing to do with clean cars, more about getting their hydro before it ran out. That’s good quality pot in case you didn’t know.”

“Considering I don’t use them, I know more about drugs than I ever wanted to know.”

CHAPTER 32

On my drive to The Cottages, I wondered how bad the lecture from Zach would be for ignoring his phone calls and being late. I swung into the driveway. Everything looked quiet, no lurkers on the street or in the driveway. I could see through my windshield that there was a note taped to the office door.

I bet myself a dollar it read, “At the pool.”

“I win,” I said to no one.

Mac and Shirl were sunning by the pool in two-piece bathing suits. “‘Lifeguard’ is not one of your job duties,” I said to Mac, letting the gate bang behind me.

“I’ve got a dress I can pull on if any paying people show up.” Mac said before she pointed to a piece of cloth bundled up over a chair.

“I haven’t forgotten about you,” I said to Shirl, pulling up a chair. “Fab and I will retrieve your belongings this week.”

“Ronnie doesn’t get to keep your stuff,” Mac huffed. Ronnie was Shirl’s ex, and apparently not happy over the breakup.

I kicked off my flip-flops, got up, and put my feet in the pool. “How about a raise?”

“That depends, is it legal?” Mac looked at me over the top of her sunglasses.

“My plan is to shuffle Jake’s paperwork off on you. The books were set up by the CPA; same procedures are in place as The Cottage’s books. And find Apple for me.” I knew the mention of our favorite homeless drunk would peak her interest.

“About her,” Mac started. “Apple came by here the other day. I gave her money out of petty cash when she confirmed the clean pee storyline and that Miss J is branching out, peddling her urine to anyone with cash.”

Somehow I had to convince Miss January her new entrepreneurial spirit could land her in jail. “I thought Apple graduated from the half-way house and got a life. Is she back on the streets?”

Memories of Apple rolling around the floor naked with my ex-husband when I thought we were still happily married had receded. Then one day, I stumbled over her panhandling. I helped give her an option to get off of the streets by giving her the name of a women’s shelter, but it had been up to her to make the first step.

“Apple left the program early. She hooked up with Angie and moved into a one-room apartment over the cleaners. No air conditioning. That’s a nice feeling, sweat running down your body 24/7 in the summertime.” Mac stopped to suck down the rest of her energy drink. “Everything was fine until Angie showed up for an 11:00 a.m., stinkin’ drunk. Apple has given herself the title of ‘Social Drinker.’ They’re one paycheck away from eviction.”

I kicked water on Mac. “I’ve got a proposition for Apple and Angie that might keep them off the streets.”

“Are you going to run hookers now?” Shirl belly-laughed. “Lordee, I’m funny.” She slapped her thigh.

I fished my ringing phone out of my pocket. “It’s about time. Where the hell have you been?”

“Can’t a girl get a few minutes of peace?” Fab whined. “I’m on my way back to the house.”

“I’m out of patience today,” I warned her. “Meet me at Wino’s. We’ve got a couple of jobs to discuss.”

Wino’s just opened recently, a wine bar for people who preferred their wine out of a bottle with a cork, as opposed to a screw top. The added bonus—outside seating.

“Why can’t we do that by the pool?” Fab laid on her horn.

“Mother and Brad threw a pool party. The house is full of people; we wouldn’t get a minute of privacy.” I’d break the news about Zach in person, after securing a promise she wouldn’t ditch me and move.

The screen lit up with Zach calling. I sent him to voicemail.

“How’s Zach doing?” Shirl asked. “He was a big pain-in-the-ass patient.”

I got out of the pool and slipped into my flip-flops. “How long before Zach’s one hundred percent?” I asked Shirl.

“Bet he’s milking his headache for all it’s worth. The doctor told him to call and make an appointment if he had any lingering symptoms after a day or two. Then he’ll need brain surgery.” Shirl gave a shout of laughter. “Seriously, it was a very mild rap to the head. Dr. A rolled his eyes when he signed him out, mouthing, ‘asshole.’”

 “I’m glad I relaxed the rule on long-term tenants; you’re working out.” I pointed to Mac and reminded her, “One time only.”

* * *

Here I was, a grown woman, worried that I missed curfew by a couple of hours. Fab had scored us a sidewalk table at Wino’s. A glass of Cabernet awaited me.

Just as I stepped out of the car, my phone rang; this time it said “Mother.” This could be a trick. I threw the phone on the passenger seat. I felt extreme guilt about being a crappy girlfriend who didn’t want to sit and stare at her boyfriend all day. But not enough to go home just yet.

“We can skip the lecture about your disappearance, if you make me a promise.”

“I went back to the condo for a second look around, are you happy?” Fab narrowed her eyes. “Before you ask, nosey, I found two keys that he stuffed inside a light fixture.”

I gulped what was probably very good wine that didn’t deserve not to be savored.

“Next time I ransack a place, I’ll be sure to remember that tip. Any idea what they go to?” I clinked glasses with her, almost forgetting my wine etiquette.

“Not a safety deposit box, so that takes sneaking into a bank vault off the table.”

Shoo, that sounded like a felony to me
. “Hold up your right hand and best-friend swear to my promise.” Being a good example, I held up my hand.

“Okay, what? You’re so dramatic,” Fab said.

“Promise me you will not move out.” I had a horrible feeling that if Zach and I moved in together, that would be the end of my relationship with my best friend. I wanted to keep all of my friends.

“I knew this was weird,” Fab hit her hand on the table. “What’s going on?”

“Zach got into a car accident, has a concussion, and is recuperating for a couple of days at the house.”

“Days? And nights too?” Fab shrieked.

I lowered my voice to a deep growl and mimicked Zach, “Get me a pillow, and water, hold my hand, stare at me. I can’t take it already. My favorite is ‘who’s on the phone?’”

Fab gave me her creepy smile. “He won’t last.” Her phone rang and she answered. After a pause, she said, “I’ve been busy, what’s up?” She hit the Speaker button.

“‘Busy,’ my ass. You were probably doing something illegal. You better not go to jail again,” Mother lectured, “Do you hear me?”