Murder in Paradise (Paradise Series) (27 page)

Fab slipped quietly into the kitchen. “Why are you walking around in the middle of the night?”

I raised my eyebrows and stared at her.

“You know I’m a light sleeper, I hear every noise,” Fab reminded.

“Insomnia,” I sighed. “I got tired of the clock taunting me, the hours ticking by and no sleep. If I had a dog I’d go for a walk on the beach.”

“I could drive you around until you fall asleep or cruise the only place open, the twenty-four hour donut hangout, for stoners who need their sugar fix.”

“I haven’t had a donut since they took them out of the gas station. I’m fine.” I smiled at her. “Go back to sleep.”

Fab grabbed my arm, pulling me off the stool. “Buckle on your flip-flops. I’m not a dog, but we can still walk on the beach.”

We went out the French doors and squeezed through the space in the fence. Since I started using the path, I had all the weeds and overgrowth cleaned out and paver stones put down. We cut between the two houses, and the path ended at a set of steps that take you out to the water. The lapping of the waves on the sand was a soothing sound.

“You know how some of our ideas blow? This might be one, hitting the beach in the middle of the night,” I said.

“Sit.” Fab pulled me down on the steps. “Tell me why you’re not banging Zach until you’re exhausted. Makes me sleep like a log.”

“He has a headache.”

When I didn’t say anything else she said, “Change of subject. Do you think Creole is banging the widow?”

“I never asked. That day on the island, they looked like lovers; that look of new intimacy. The happy glow, before you have your first fight and you get a glimpse of the real person.”

Fab’s phone rang. Good thing one of us was prepared, I left mine plugged in by the bedside.

“I bet that’s not good news,” I said. Could this night get any better?

Fab looked at the screen. “Hi, honey.”

Didier couldn’t have said more than a couple of sentences. “We’re sitting on the beach steps behind the house, girl talking. Be back in a little while. Thanks for the heads up.” Fab hung up. “Didier wanted us to know that Zach is awake wandering around the house.”

I sighed. “I hoped to sneak in and out without waking him up. Our irritation with the other is at an all-time high.”

“Reality check, he’s getting an eye-full of life at Casa Madison and he’s not liking it. Before you have a big fight and break up over whether the toilet seat is up or down, you two need to come to an agreement on expectations of the other.”

“I feel like I’ve missed curfew and my dad’s going to be waiting at the door.”

“Did you sneak out of the house as a teenager?” Fab asked.

I could see the thought intrigued Fab. “Not to be with boys, but to go joy riding without permission, spy on our latest infatuation, and toilet paper their houses. That meant you were crushing hard.”

“I missed out on that rite of passage. You didn’t disobey my father. Embarrassing the family would’ve gotten me shipped to a convent.” Fab’s face showed no emotion. “You ever get caught?”

“One morning Mother announced at breakfast that I was to hurry up and eat, and get my butt over to Todd Peters’ house to help him clean up the yard. His mother and mine were friends and she called, humiliated by all the toilet paper.”

“Mother said, ‘Don’t give me that innocent look.’ Then I squealed back something like, ‘Todd will know. I like him.’ Then Mother looked at me and said, ‘You’re not to confess one word. If Janet Peters finds out, you’re grounded. She’ll spread it all over town. Get a good story together before you arrive.’ Then she pushed me out the door.

“I stopped on the way over, got my best friend, and we pretended to be walking by and offered our help. Todd acknowledged us at school after that with a hello and a wave, but that’s it. Janet Peters looked down her nose at everyone, but she figured out I had a part in her humiliation and turned downright frigid. I never understood how Mother could have been friends with her. The last time I saw her I gave her the same condescending look she gave me, and was quite proud of myself.”

“No boys were allowed, except for a special occasion like a school dance. And my parents wondered why I ran off with the first guy offering fun and adventure,” Fab mused. “Did I mention my future husband had been pre-selected? You know, someone with impeccable lineage. Henri Ricard is a philosophy professor and head of the department at Université Pierre. He outgrew his pimples and, still nerdy, he married, had six children and a beautiful, intelligent well-bred wife who suffers through the endless parties, her small talk flawless. I bet Henri’s family is relieved he never married me.”

“It’s funny how a single choice can change the direction of your life. Any regrets?” I nudged her shoulder.

“I’ve thought about that. But if I did I wouldn’t be here, and honestly, I’m happy. I’m not so sure I could say that if I were Madame Ricard right now.” Fab stood up, offering her hand.

“We should go back inside. If Zach is sitting in the living room with his arms crossed, you’re on your own. I’m racing upstairs.”

“Thank you, and Didier. I love these girl convos. Next one we’ll do in the middle of the day.”

Fab went into the house ahead of me and looked in the living room. “Coast is clear.”

“See you in the morning,” I whispered, and followed her up the stairs.

Zach lay on his side, his back to the room. He never moved, though his breathing indicated he was awake. I swapped my clothes for a Miami Dolphins T-shirt and climbed into bed. I suppose if I didn’t feel guilty, I’d snuggle up to his back and fall asleep. Instead, I kept to my own side of the bed.

CHAPTER 37

Zach woke up early, took a shower, and went downstairs without a good morning nibble on my neck. I feigned sleep until he left the bedroom, not wanting to start the day with any serious conversation.

Black storm clouds were rolling in across The Gulf, making me wish I could just snuggle under the covers until I had the house to myself. I forced my body out of bed and into the shower. With a full day ahead of me, I stepped into a white cotton skirt with big pockets and a bright coral sleeveless top. Carwash class day! The boss needed to learn to run all the equipment and for that, I grabbed shorts.

Fab’s door was closed and nothing hung from the doorknob. Leaning against the stair railing, I saw Jazz curled up asleep, the living room to himself. Zach had his back to me, sitting at the kitchen counter.

“What the hell?” Zach yelled. “Put some pants on, asshole,” Zach said to Didier.

Didier, clad in an apron and black briefs showing a peek of his cheeks at the top, had eggs in his hands. Setting them on the counter, he stuck his leg out and nudged the refrigerator closed. He pulled himself to his full height, he had Zach by a smidge, both over six feet tall.

“Go fuck yourself.”

I figured Didier would back down, but the look on his face told me with the slightest provocation, he’d punch Zach.

“Good morning,” I said way too cheerfully. “I’ll start the coffee.” That would be a trick since every person in the house liked their coffee different.

Zach pushed his bar stool back. “Just make yours and join me at the pool.” He headed for the French doors.

I started my day with a French coffee mix and water nuked for two minutes; I couldn’t tolerate the swill Fab called coffee.

“I’m sorry, Didier. You’re making one of my favorites, save me a bite.” I grabbed a piece of cheese.

Didier stood at the counter chopping ingredients for one of his masterful frittatas. “Bon jour, Madison.” He winked. “You look lovely today.”

I blushed and almost giggled. Zach would flip if he heard that come out of my mouth.

“Zach leave?” Fab suddenly appeared, kissing Didier.

“He’s on the patio. I’m going out there now.” I mixed the hot water into my cup and threw the spoon in the sink.

“He walks around in his underwear?” Zach demanded. “Where do you draw the line on offensive behavior?” The muscles in his jaw tightened.

I leaned across the table to kiss him. “Do you want to fight or could we maybe start over and enjoy our coffee together?” Now probably wasn’t the time to remind him that Didier had an apron on.

Slice squeezed through the space in the fence, from the super-secret path everyone knew about and used.

“Hey, boss.” He winked at me.

Zach glared. “Slice and I need to go over client issues,” he said to me.

“Food, drink, help yourself,” I said to Slice as he walked into the house. “I need to go to The Cottages. Mac and I are having our weekly meeting. I won’t be home until later.” I stood up and bent down to kiss Zach; it could be called lukewarm, since it lacked any participation on his part. “Why don’t I get take-out tonight? We can eat out here by the pool and go swimming?”

“We can talk later.” Zach didn’t make eye contact.

Slice passed me coming out the door with a bottle of orange juice in one hand and a plate of Didier’s eggs and fruit in the other. He sat opposite Zach and proceeded to wolf down his food.

 I grabbed my tote bag and looked at Fab with green-eyed jealousy, sitting at the counter, Didier feeding her strawberries.

“I’ll see you later,” I called, closing the front door behind me.

* * *

“Where are you?” Fab asked when I answered my phone.

“Eating breakfast at The Bakery Café.” I had finished my scrambled egg concoction and started on a pecan roll.

“Don’t go anywhere.” Fab hung up.

I scrolled the internet looking for storage units in the über-wealthy section of Miami Beach. They were everywhere, like hamburger stands. But would the rich allow them in their neighborhood? They didn’t allow the fast food restaurants. With a little digging, I found one storage place within a mile, off the beaten path according to the aerial. It appeared to share a lot with a boat storage place. I typed the name
of the condo unit, The Pointe, into the search box to check the amenities they advertised. Extra space to put your junk would qualify.

Fab set her laptop on the table. “Do you want anything?”

I looked at my watch. “What did you do, blow every stop light?”

A creature of some habit, she never passed up a double latte, skinny something, extra stuff, coffee. To me I might as well pour it in a hypodermic needle and shoot-up. The high would be great, but the down would suck.

“Didier told me to tell you he thinks you’re fabulous and to have a great day.”

“I apologize for Zach’s rudeness. I could only risk a quick peek at those tight buns of Didier’s—nice! Very impressed Didier stood up to Zach.”

“You think Didier’s a sissy?” Fab looked horrified.

“I wanted to yell, ‘Go, Didier!’ Such a beautiful face, and of course the rest of him. I can’t see him throwing punches and rolling in the dirt.”

“Why are you looking at The Pointe?”

“Got an architectural drawing of the place which includes the underground parking, nothing about extra storage listed anywhere. There’s a storage place nearby, two others a couple of blocks away.” I clicked on the file and showed her everything I found.

“Let’s go check them out. We’ll start at the condos, Gabriel wouldn’t be that obvious but if he could use someone else’s storage, he’d think that was clever. The cops would check the one associated with the unit, but they wouldn’t get a warrant to check every one. It’s not like they’re looking for a body that’s unaccounted for.”

“Where is Gabriel’s final resting place?” Maybe my invitation to a stranger’s funeral had gotten lost in the mail.

“Dickie set him on fire and what was left got shipped back to France. His uncle footed the bill, according to our weird little friend.”

“I thought you were going to be nice to Dickie since he helped you out in a big way,” I reminded.

“There’s a statute on that promise.”

I shook my head. “First stop is Brick’s; he’s got a job for me.”

* * *

Fab squealed into the driveway of Famosa Motors and slammed the brakes.

“I’m driving when we leave here,” I said, thankful my seat belt never failed me, jerking me tightly against the seat.

“No you’re not,” Fab pitched a mini fit. After two or three unintelligible words, she took a breath. “Oh, okay, I’ll slow down.”

We walked through the front doors, Bitsy nowhere in sight. I couldn’t remember a time when her pesky self hadn’t been preening behind the desk.

“Hey, Brick, you up there?” Fab yelled.

Brick’s head appeared in his office window, where he knocked on the glass and motioned us up.

We raced up the stairs, pushing each other to see which one of us would get to the top first. Fab won with a last minute hip swing.

“I can’t believe you have the balls to yell in my place of business!” Brick yelled back at Fab.

I grabbed the back of Fab’s shirt before she jumped on his desk kicking everything on it to the floor. “Where’s Bitsy? Isn’t she supposed to announce us?” 

“She heard you two squeal into the driveway, ran and locked herself in the bathroom.” Brick looked disgusted.

“That’s what she gets for screwing us on a straight-up information transaction,” I said.

“Easy!” Brick yelled again. “Whack job there,” he said, and pointed to Fab, “pulled a gun on her, scared my girl.”

Fab stood at his window and surveyed the car lot. From her view, she had a several-block view of an upscale commercial district.

“Bitsy got off easy,” she said.

Brick tossed me a large manila envelope. “These eviction notices need to be served in two days. Get it done and then you’ll have some paperwork you need to sign.”

“Not so fast.” I narrowed my eyes. “What’s the trick?” I rested my butt against the corner of the desk and flipped through the envelope’s contents.

“Simple job. I bought a new building and want the tenants out. Try for personal service, it makes it easier in court; last resort, tape it to the door.”

“I’m going with her.” Fab turned on Brick. “Neither of us better end up in jail.”

“Both of you get out of my office. The damn phone is ringing and Bitsy needs to get the hell out of the bathroom.”