Murder in Paradise (Paradise Series) (7 page)

“Have to go, be by later,” I told Mac and threw my phone on the console.

“Did Mac sound weird or what?” Fab pulled into the driveway, missing the rather large pothole. In Florida, you might not realize it was a sinkhole until it swallowed up your car. I didn’t want to be immortalized in the driveway of a tow yard.

I got out and looked at the No Trespassing, Dogs, and Shoot to Kill signs. “I’ve learned not to overthink Mac Lane.” Thanks to Fab, I came with all the right paperwork and shoved it under the bars at the window.

The big burly woman inside the window looked around. “Where’s your tow truck? You’re not driving this thing out of here; lack of tires is the least of your problems. And I’ll need the nineteen hundred and fifty, cash only.”

“My insurance company will make those arrangements,” I told her. “I’m here to pay my respects, and to see if it’s time to start shopping for its replacement.”

She took the cigarette that wobbled between her lips and put it behind her ear. “Note here, your insurance company called, will be here this week.” She dragged the microphone across the desk. “Lude, get up here,” she yelled. “Wait here, you’ll be escorted. You have three minutes.”

The fence opened and a broom handle with hair stood there, tobacco spit flying over his shoulder. He leered. “Why is it the women always want to be the ones to say a teary good-bye, it’s not a dead relate? Men are at the car lot already.” He motioned with his greasy stained hand to follow.

“Girly stays here with me!” the woman in the office yelled, pointing to Fab.

There were several hundred cars parked inside the fence in various states of disrepair, from cars that looked like they needed a long overdue carwash to burned-out shells. The hike to my Tahoe took longer than the three minute allotted time. I thought Creole exaggerated in his description; turns out, in addition to being stripped, it had been set on fire. Definitely time for a new ride. I snapped a couple of pictures with my phone and turned in time to see Lude take his finger out of his nose and wipe it on his shirt.

“Thank you, Mr. Lude.” I forced myself not to run back to the gate.

“Wait up, you have to be escorted. Company rules.  The boss don’t want you stopping and jacking a part off another car.” Lude caught up and walked beside me. “You got a boyfriend?”

“Yes and we’re very happy.” Well, some of the time we’re happy. Even if I didn’t have one, the answer would be the same.

He pulled out his wallet, took off the rubber band. “Your girlfriend got somebody?”

“We both have boyfriends.” Lude didn’t know how lucky he was that Fab stood on the other side of the fence. She’d pistol-whip his butt.

He handed me two business cards. “One for you and one for your friend. Call if either of you get single.” He unlocked the gate, wiped his hand on his pants, and extended it.

Freaked out, I damn-near jumped. “I just got over the flu, wouldn’t want to shake your hand and make you sick,” I said, racing through the gate. “Thanks for your help.” I nodded and waved his business cards.

“Time to go car shopping.” I handed Lude’s business card to Fab after we got inside the Hummer.

“What’s this for?” Fab read the card.

“Lude wanted you to have his contact information.”

“Who?” Fab looked around the tow lot while backing up.

“You know, that nice man who escorted me to my Tahoe.” I bit my lip so I wouldn’t laugh. “He thinks you’re hot and wants you to call him, go out on a date.”

Her eyes shot icicles. “You’re lying.”

“Once he found out I had a boyfriend, he asked about you. Wanted me to tell you to give him a call if you dump the boyfriend.” I couldn’t hold it anymore and burst out laughing. Pranking Fab never got old.

Fab rolled the window down and threw the card out. “Were you dropped on your head as a child?”

“Take me to The Cottages.”

* * *

“What is Mac doing?” Fab asked, pulling into the only available parking space at The Cottages. “Who knew a woman her age could Hula-Hoop?”

“She’s better at it than I am.” I shook my hips in my seat. “The best I can do is three twirls before it drops to the ground.”

Mac walked over to the car, pulling her skirt out of the top of her yoga pants. “I’m sorry for my part in this.”

What now?

“Am I going to need a latte?” I asked.

“Miss J’s home and resting. I’m the one who encouraged her to join The Cove Walkers, a group of older people who get together and walk around town once a week.”

“That sounds like a great idea.” I had seen the group many times around town.

Mac unwrapped a piece of gum and rolled it between her fingers. “Miss J hooked up with two other women. They formed their own group and got on the trolley to Custer’s. During a game of drink or dare, Miss J agreed to a keg stand.”

Custer’s is a rat-hole bar and favorite hangout for the local drunks who enjoy cheap drinks and tourists who want their picture taken in front of the adobe-like hovel and the pink Cadillac. They were mandated by the Alcohol Board to serve only canned beer and screw-top wine.

“You’re telling me two people suspended Miss J by her ankles over a keg, and she guzzled cheap beer?” I asked.

Fab clapped, the Hula-Hoop dropping to the ground. She’d been showing off her hooping skills.

“The best part was that under those ugly housedresses of hers, she had on a red G-string, no granny drawers for her,” Mac snorted.

I stuck my fingers in my ears. “Stop. That’s a horrible image to have burned in my mind.”

“How did she end up in the hospital?” Fab asked.

“After her successful keg stand didn’t kill her, she attempted a hand stand and fell on her head, knocking herself out.” Mac enjoyed being the first in the know.

“I don’t believe you.” I shook my head.

Mac stuck her hands on her hips, thrusting out her girls. “Thank you for thinking I could make all that crap up on the spur of the moment. I don’t need to make stuff up to entertain you. Have you met Joseph’s girlfriend?”

“Is she as hideous as the last one?” Fab asked.

“I’m not going to spoil the surprise. She’s quiet, has a pleasant smile, and she’s not mouthy like that last one.” Mac’s mouth twitched, clearly holding back laughter.

I looked at Joseph’s cottage. “Is the happy couple at home?”

“Svetlana doesn’t get out much,” Mac hooted.

I dreaded the short walk to Joseph’s door. The last girlfriend wanted me dead, so I hoped the new one would be an improvement. I used my cop knock on his door, knowing it scared him.

“I’m watching a movie with Svetlana, now go away.” He shut the door.

I banged again and yelled. “Let me in, or I’ll evict you.”

He opened the door. “You want a beer?”

I brushed past him. “You need to shine your manners.” The new girlfriend apparently didn’t have the same house cleaning skills as the last one. Newspapers were everywhere, he had a full trashcan, and discarded pants and shirts littered the floor. Sitting in the chair next to the couch, an attractive blonde in a green leather mini skirt showing off her long, sexy legs, wide open bringing attention to her matching G-string.

“Svetlana?” I stared at her, my mouth dropping open. A beautiful woman, with large blue glossy eyes, large breasts that peeped out from a lacy chemise also in green, skinny waist, round ass, and realistic hands and feet. I traced my finger softly along her cheek—one hundred percent rubber.

“Remember old dead Twizzle? He left me Svet in his will and all of her outfits.” He sucked hard on an electronic cigarette. “None of my other dead friends ever left me anything.”

I couldn’t believe how real Svet looked. “I’m happy for you, Joseph.” I didn’t know what other lame thing to say, I just wanted some fresh air.

“Best girlfriend ever,” He moved her to the couch, caressing her arm.

“Nice to meet her.” I reached for the doorknob, jerked the door open, and waved to Joseph. I covered my mouth and laughed all the way back to my SUV.

CHAPTER 11

Fab turned south on the Overseas toward the house. “I thought you were taking me to Brick’s,” I said.

“I’ve got a job that needs my attention––and before you ask, it’s for Brick and I can’t talk about it. He emphasized not telling you.”

I stared out the window. I didn’t want to let Fab out of my sight.

“Promise me that no matter what happens, you won’t call the cops. I know you’re worried about me but I’m good at slipping out of tight situations.”

“As long as I hear from you every couple of hours. You’d make me do the same thing if it was me eluding a crazy ex-husband.”

Jax Devereaux’s biggest crime is that he’s a drunk, which is preferable to Gabriel, who steals and threatens to kill people. I hadn’t seen my ex since he’d been released from jail for boating under the influence. A quick kiss on the cheek and Jax got in a car with his cousin and they went back home to South Carolina. I’d heard through the grapevine that he was sober and getting married.

“No need to start worrying. Besides, Gabriel’s in jail.” Fab pulled into my driveway and flipped me the keys. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t worry so much.” She jumped in her Mercedes and squealed out of the driveway.

The sound of an engine revving came from my purse; an alert from my phone that Fab and I had a business call. We had really cool business cards, the only problem—we couldn’t come up with a name. Zach had seen the cards and rolled his eyes, commenting they weren’t professional; his partner, Slice, gave me the thumbs up behind his back.

I listened to the message; Tolbert Rich wanted a call back. I decided I’d return the message in person, and climbed over into the driver’s seat, a perfect day for a drive to Pigeon Key. The Overseas Highway was a one-of-a-kind two-lane highway that ran over water to the southernmost tip of the United States, Key West, surrounded by the Atlantic Ocean and Gulf of Mexico. I sang along with Jimmy Buffet, enjoying every mile. I’d met Tolbert when his son, Cosmo—who had been best friends with my brother—was murdered.

The paved road ceased and became gravel as we turned off the main highway. I bumped along until turning into The Wild Bird Farm. The arch overhead comfortably sat fifty or more brightly colored parrots, all of them bright green, their under parts variations of very light green to yellow. In its usual parking space sat the church bus, named Church of the Traveling Jesus. Every Sunday Tolbert, a pastor, picked up his congregation along the main highway, preached an uplifting sermon, and followed it with lunch. Jimmy Spoon had been instrumental in getting the new bus and had it repainted in its patriotic red, white, and blue theme when the old one was vandalized beyond repair.

The Bird Farm was a snapshot into the Old South in its day of rambling old houses on large lots. The property boasted dozens of willow trees, their graceful limbs hanging to the ground, all filled with an assortment of birds. The private pond attracted ducks and egrets, walking along the shore. A pedal boat sat tied up to the short dock. There was a peaceful calm, no traffic racing by or noisy neighbors; the only sounds were that of nature and kids screaming and laughing when they were out of school.

Tolbert and Grover, a Golden Retriever, stood on the porch, probably wondering who was invading their peace and quiet in a gangster-mobile. As I came around the front of the Hummer, Grover barked and came running, skidding to a stop. I leaned down and hugged him, rubbing his neck. Grover and I bonded when he lived with me for several months after I rescued him from the side of the road and nursed him back to health. The worst day had been when I found out he had an owner who loved him and hadn’t stopped looking for him.

Tolbert waved. “You didn’t have to drive all the way out here. Come, we’ll sit on the porch. I always have tea in the fridge.”

“A little slice of heaven is just what my day needs and you offer that and more,” I said, and kissed his cheek.

I walked up the stairs of the sprawling white plantation-style home to the signature wide veranda with comfortable cane seating. I snatched up a couple of faded colorful pillows, sun-bleached over time, and relaxed in a wicker chair. Grover sat by my side, his head in my lap. I put my arms around his neck.

“You look great, big guy. Jazz and I miss you.”

Tolbert kicked open the wooden screen door and carried out a large tray of tea, ice, and those brown sugar cubes I liked. I noticed the plate of yummy looking shortbread cookies right away.

“Where’s Miss Fabiana?” Tolbert asked. He was definitely smitten with ‘Girl Wonder’. She’d charmed him with her stories of an all-Catholic, girls-only school education and trying to hold her own with the nuns.

“Fab’s off taking advantage of bad guys. I should feel sorry for them, but I don’t.” I hoped when I got home she’d be sitting at the island, tempting Jazz with people food.

Tolbert chuckled. “Speaking of bad guys, that’s why I called. You remember my neighbor, Gus Ivers? He’s got a business property in town and needs the tenant evicted. He’s older than dirt, like myself, but he can afford to pay full-price.” He handed me a glass of iced tea with orange slices.

“You’re lucky my mother isn’t here to hear you say that,” I said and wagged my finger, “since I know you’re close in age. You look great; having your grandchildren living with you will keep you young.” Tolbert, who was tall and lanky, had a big heart and still had a full head of hair. He won full custody of his grandchildren after his son’s murder. The mother, a drunk, found herself “a daddy,” and left town on the back of a motorcycle.

“Thank you for referring me to Cruz Campion; he’s one heck of a lawyer. I know you’re the reason he did my custody case pro-bono.”

I tossed Grover a cookie. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Cruz can charge the next person double.”

A while back, some troublemaker tenants of Gus Ivers began terrorizing Tolbert. I’d never met Mr. Ivers, but I called Slice and asked for same-day eviction of the renters. I wanted them off the property and asked that they be tossed from The Keys. Thrilled, Slice sent them running for the state line.

“I’ll call Gus; he can be here in five, and he’ll give you the details. He kicked a fuss, wanting a man for the job, but I reminded him you were instrumental in getting rid of his old tenant faster than the law would’ve done.” Tolbert disappeared inside, the only person I knew who used a phone still hooked to the wall. It would only be interesting to me if I could listen in on a party line.