Murder in Paradise (Paradise Series) (3 page)

“Sit.” He pointed to a barstool pulled away from the island. “Or my first shot will kill the cat.”

Jazz howled, pacing in front of his food bowl. He had food, but demanded I refresh it in the morning.

“Shut that damn thing up.”

My voice pleaded, “I just need to give him some food and water and he’ll go to sleep.” There was a gun in the drawer, but shooting the intruder before he shot me seemed highly unlikely. I hurriedly took care of Jazz and then sat on the stool.

“Just tell me what you want,” I said.

“That’s easy. I want Fabiana Merceau.” His gray eyes were hard as steel.

“Fab doesn’t leave notes as to where she’s going. Why don’t you check back later?”

He unleashed a tirade in French and then said in English, “You uneducated American. Get her here. Now.”

“So you can kill her?” My stomach muscles clenched.

“Killing my dear Fabiana would not get me what I want. Now call her.” He punctuated this by pointing his gun at Jazz.

“This I can promise you, you’ll never get whatever it is you want by shooting me or the cat.” I reminded myself to remain calm and picked up my phone.
Why had we never talked about a code word?
How was I going to warn her?

Fab picked up on the second ring. “Cherie,” I blurted. “Can you come back to the house?”

“What’s up?” Fab asked. “Why do you sound weirder than usual?”

“Don’t speed in my car.” I hung up, hoping that because the conversation made no sense that would be code enough.

“Who are you anyway?” I asked.

“Shut up or I will shoot you and Fabiana will have to get over it,” he sneered.

* * *

Fab walked through the French doors from the pool area, her Ruger LC-9 handgun pointed at our mystery man. “When did you get out?” She asked, clearly not pleased to see him. “Put your gun down, this has nothing to do with Madison.”

The energy intense and electric; as I looked between the two of them, sparks from their eyes flew back and forth. This must be the ex-husband, Gabriel, I thought. Looks wise, he had a lot in common with Didier. Fab clearly had a type: tall, dark-haired, and with that delicious accent. Didier was sweet and flirted shamelessly, his blue eyes sparkled; this one’s eyes were cold and calculating. The hair on the back of my neck told me he would bring Fab down.

Gabriel put his gun in his front waistband. “You’re going to give me back what is mine and if you don’t I’ll blow up your life and everyone in it.”

The tone of his voice sent shivers up my spine. His words shocked me; I’d never had someone who loved me speak to me with such venom.

Fab holstered her gun. “I don’t have anything that belongs to you. I sold my ring and two other pieces of jewelry and fled France.”

Gabriel beat his fist on the counter. “The painting.” He kicked his stool over, clearing the space between them, and grabbed her face, smashing his lips to hers.

Fab gave him a hard shove with both hands. “Don’t you remember I never had possession of the painting?”

Gabriel dug his fingers into both sides of her cheeks and squeezed. “You forget how well I know every inch of your sexy body and larcenous mind. You’re a liar. Convince me as though your life depends on it that you had nothing to do with the fake that was left in place of the real painting. Even if you can, I’ll still need another priceless work of art.”

“You’re hurting me.” Fab shrugged out of his grasp. “Wait while I pull a masterpiece out of my back pocket.”

Gabriel had lost all interest in me; he was locked in an intense standoff with “his” Fabiana. I slid over to the kitchen drawer and removed my Glock. “Step back, Gabriel.” I cocked my 9mm.

Gabriel turned. “You won’t shoot me.” He spoke to me like a mere irritation.

“Yes, she will.” Fab walked to the front door and held it open. “Leave here and don’t come back. If I even see you in the neighborhood, I may have to shoot you.”

Gabriel pinned Fab to the front door with his body. “Meet me in one hour at that dreadful café the two of you frequent. We’ll catch up on how I did prison time and you’re living in this dreadful hole.” Gabriel shot hate sparks in my direction. He ran his finger down Fab’s cheek, kissed her, and then disappeared down the driveway.

I exhaled when the door slammed shut. “Wow, we have terrible taste in ex-husbands.”

“Jax would never shoot you. Gabriel wears vengeance like an honor badge.” Fab rushed over. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“You have options. I know people who could make him disappear.” I mentally ran down the list of my friends and knew two who could expedite him to a mere memory in twenty-four hours.

Fab wagged her finger at me. “I’m going to take care of this and you’re going to stay out of it.”

A bad feeling settled over me. “You know where the painting is, don’t you?”

Fab shook her head. “I hate it when you just seem to know stuff.”

“Give it back to him with the understanding he leaves town tomorrow.” My hand shook when I pulled a coffee mug off the shelf.

 “I’d have to steal it again.” Fab covered her face with her hands.

My phone rang. Mac’s name popped up on the screen. “More bad news?” I asked.

Mac Lane managed The Cottages and, for the most part, stayed one step ahead of the crazies.

“Koozie got arrested,” Mac blurted. “He set cottage ten on fire using his cooking-meth-for-dummies manual. When one of his cooking pots exploded, he freaked and ran out the door. He didn’t bother to call the fire department or anyone else, for that matter. Kevin’s partner, Johnson, stopped by on an official visit and to chat it up with you.”

“Blow Johnson off until later. Can you start with estimates for cleanup, et cetera? Once I get the okay from the insurance company, I’m going to have the rubble hauled away.” One problem at a time today, I thought.

Officer Johnson and I had an avid dislike for one another. “He started it,” I told his partner Kevin when asked to be nicer. Johnson liked to snap his fingers and didn’t like that I wasn’t a jumper.

“On it already,” Mac smacked her gum. “Several folks have stopped by offering services. I have business cards in two piles: second look and no way.”

I hung up the phone. “Start from the beginning,” I told Fab. “Try not to minimize the pertinent details.” My heart pounded hard. I hoped Gabriel wouldn’t be the end of our friendship.

“Gabriel and I made headlines as sexy cat burglars. Lucky for me, a security camera caught only the back of me in skintight black pants and a long-sleeve top. We were selective, had high thieving standards. We stole from rich people. Let’s face it, they have the coolest stuff. My job was to gain entry. Rich people leave their windows open a lot, so I’d cut the screen and crawl right in. Most times we were invited guests—my parent’s friends and those of their social ilk.”

I couldn’t imagine stealing from my parents’ friends. I’m sure I embarrassed Mother plenty of times, but this took it to a whole new level.

“The Evards, tennis partners of my parents, bragged about their newest ‘little getaway’ to Monte Carlo. What a perfect time to loot their mansion! The entire alarm system appeared to be as old as the house; dismantling it was child’s play. Unbeknownst to us, behind every painting was a back-up system that sounded an alarm if moved. While Gabriel ransacked the downstairs, I swept the master bedroom, pawing through Madame’s jewels, helping myself. Gabriel had the painting off the wall, admiring it, when the guards burst in. He managed to hang on to the painting, jump out the window, and lead them on a chase. He had a slight lead; apparently the guards weren’t window jumpers and chose to go out the French doors. They struggled to get them unlocked, and then the pursuit was on.

“The master bedroom doors stood open to the garden below. I heard the commotion, dumped a handful of trinkets into my pockets, and slipped out through the library at the opposite side of the house.”

“What happened to the painting?” I asked.

“They had Gabriel in custody within an hour, no painting. He managed to make it back to town before getting caught. Instead of using the painting to broker a deal, he kept quiet and gambled, trying to convince the court the guards chased the wrong man. After all, he didn’t have it in his possession.” Fab checked her watch. “I can’t be late.”

“My Glock and I will go as backup,” I said. “Give me five minutes to change.”

“You go take care of The Cottages and we’ll meet here later.” Fab grabbed her keys.

“I don’t like this,” I grumbled. “You tell Monsieur Bastard if I don’t see you tonight I’ll unleash every law enforcement agency I can on him.”

“Promise me, you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”

“I can’t keep that promise,” I sighed. “You need to think very carefully before you agree to something that will have you in prison stripes for a very long time.”

Fab waved and raced to the door, I was hot on her heels.

I yelled, “Tonight, Fabiana!”

CHAPTER 4

It took every ounce of self-control not to drive by our favorite place for breakfast, The Bakery Café, on the pretext of needing a latte or some other lame excuse. Fab was in more danger than when she faced down the drug dealer pointing a gun in her face, and besides I knew Gabriel would spot the inconspicuous Hummer in a second.

I was so preoccupied with Fab’s problems, I couldn’t remember driving along the beach, which was my favorite route from my house to The Cottages. Before last night, it had been a ten-unit, three-sided square building that had direct beach access. My strengths were used in renovating the units and grounds. For day-to-day management, I hired a double Red Bull-drinking manager. Mac handled the tenants and their flakey friends with tough love.

Turning the corner, I almost ran into Miss January, who’d wandered into the street pacing, holding Kitty. Miss January was another tenant I inherited from my aunt; a fortyish woman who looked eighty, was consumed with cancer, and self-medicated with vodka and cigarettes. There were no signs of dementia except where her cat was concerned, never acknowledging that Kitty had been dead a long time and was stuffed.

I pulled into a parking space reserved for the office, jumped out, and cut across the grass to find Miss January before a car hit her.

Tears streamed down Miss January’s face. “Kitty’s dying.” She slid her hand from Kitty’s side and showed me a gaping hole where stuffing had come out.

Mac loved to mind other people’s business. She hustled up behind me and groaned loudly at the sight. Her auburn bouffant stayed stiffly in place by a half a can of Aqua Net.

I put my arm around Miss January’s boney shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’ll take Kitty to the vet, and she’ll be good as new.” It never occurred to me to blurt out, “Damn it, the cat’s dead.” Instead I said, “Mac can help me.”

 “Yeah, sorry, I have a gyno appointment,” Mac grunted. She rolled her eyes and headed straight for the office.

“Ever since I got cancer the doctor hasn’t been interested in looking up there,” Miss January shared.

“Let’s put Kitty in the back of my SUV.” I drew the line at touching it; I had picked it up before but had worn gardening gloves. It was another warm day, and I hoped Kitty had been dead long enough not to smell. Brick would flip.

“Joseph called me an old drunk.” She tossed her limp hair. “You don’t think I look old, do you?”

“Don’t pay attention to Joseph. You know he says stuff he doesn’t mean.” I helped her up the stairs and into her cottage.

“I need a nap,” Miss January mumbled, and flopped onto her bed.

I covered her with a blanket and did my best to walk calmly out.

“I swear if this office door was locked I’d be tempted to kick it open.” I wanted to throw myself onto the couch, but sat in a chair instead. “You’re going to hell.”

Mac sat tipped back in her chair, tennis shoe-clad feet on the desk, sporting one of her tie-dyed hippy skirts and matching ill-fitting T-shirt.

“Party in the afterlife.” She handed me a piece of paper. “I assume by vet you mean taxidermist. I could find only one down in Pigeon Key.”

Feeling frazzled I said, “Koozie burnt the cottage down, how the hell did he even get in?”

“He got hired on the plumbing crew as trash dude. He knew it was empty and a perfect place—in his drug-addled mind—to set up shop. He’d also been living there, sneaking in at night.” Mac threw her gum in the trash, putting a new pink piece in her mouth.

“The insurance agent is my neighbor and got us moved to the top of the list. He’ll be coming over today to take pics and once the red tape comes down, we can start debris removal.” I reached across to the bar refrigerator and helped myself to a cold water. “I’ll call Kevin and get the green light from him; I’m avoiding his partner, Johnson. What does he want anyway?”

Mac sucked the giant bubble she’d blown back into her mouth. “Koozie claimed he did everything according to your orders and that the two of you would be sharing the profits. Officer Johnson is salivating to talk to you.” Mac enjoyed the story, but then no one mentioned her name in the same sentence as selling drugs.

“Does anyone believe the crap story besides Johnson?”

“I haven’t heard there’s a warrant out for your arrest. And no sheriff’s staking out the place, so I’ll take a leap and say no.” Mac flashed a fake smile.

I dropped the loaner phone this morning and it changed the ring tone to annoying. “Hi, Brick.”

“Bring back my Hummer!” he yelled. “I do you a favor and you take a hundred thousand dollar automobile.”

I held my phone away from my ear. Mac slid forward to hear every word, though people walking down the block could listen in. “You said I had my pick of cars. It didn’t cost a hundred thousand new. Besides, it’s used with twenty thousand miles on the odometer.”

“Are you crazy? It’s a one of a kind! They’re not manufactured anymore!” He still yelled, but not quite as loudly.

“Let me drive it for a week. I thought if my Tahoe isn’t found, I’d haggle you down on the price.” I covered the mouthpiece so he wouldn’t hear Mac laughing. “How about the work for auto program?”

“I want the Hummer back tomorrow.”