Swindled in Paradise (12 page)

“I love your mother, but who doesn’t.” She laughed. “We get along great. Thanks to her, whoever bartends for one of her games makes good money, so she established herself as a favorite pretty early on. I told her once that gambling was illegal, and she looked me square in the eye and said, ‘Prove we’re not playing Old Maid.’ Then she went on to tell me that poker was legal as long as there were no winnings involved.”

“Mother dear was trotting down the wrong road. She needed a diversion, so I came up with the game room. I still can’t believe that I had to nag her to at least think about the idea. It keeps her out of trouble, for the most part.” Selfishly, I liked that she was in the Cove almost every day and stopping by the house, always with food. Mother’s motto was:
There’s no problem that can’t be solved over food or shopping.
“I don’t ask for specifics. The group is made up of friends, and they deserve to have fun. They order top-shelf liquor, and mother made regular trips to Miami to refill the humidor. She’s a boost to the local economy.” I was proud that she had made a bigger success out of the room than I’d imagined.

They gambled with chips, and any money transactions took place off-property. As long as no one got arrested and Jake’s didn’t get shut down, I minded my own business. Besides, if she was in the back room, she wasn’t out riding motorcycles.

“There is a catch—non-negotiable,” I said.

Phil gave me her version of a scary face, which rivaled Fab’s. She waited in silence for me to utter what she was clearly certain would be a deal killer.

“You tell Fab. She’s another one to confide in and keep happy.”

“I think I’ll liquor her up with one her favorites—an apple martini. We’re friendly, but you can never gauge how she’s going to react to something.”

“If she pulls her Walther, she’s definitely not happy.” I smiled. “Oh, and if you’re looking for a boyfriend, drop that tidbit into a conversation with Mother; she’ll have your date card filled in no time. Just be
very
specific in your wants.”

“She wouldn’t mind?”

“Oh trust me, she’d love to fix you up. She’s a regular little cupid.” I hoped the suggestion wouldn’t blow up in my face. When I didn’t have a boyfriend, she fixed me up with some real ass-clowns. It would be years before I thought back on those “dates” and found them amusing. I really shouldn’t be putting Phil through all that, but hey, you do what you have to get a reprieve from the baby talk.

Chapter 16

I stood briefly at the top of the stairs, not sure which I’d noticed first: the sound of voices coming from the kitchen or the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee that had me quickening my step.

The lovers had apparently made up, as they stood entwined, giggling and sharing the same oversized mug of brew. Didier, I swear, was hotter in the morning—shirtless and with bedhead sticking on end – than when he wore custom-made suits.

I grabbed my favorite shell mug out of the cupboard and banged it down on the island. My eyes on Fab, I said, “I need coffee. Will you fix it for me?”

Didier laughed, tousled her hair with one hand, and reached for my cup with the other.

Jazz had prowled into the kitchen and was headed my way, seeing an opportunity for another treat. The two easy marks had already given him one, and he wasn’t wasting any time. I bent down and picked him up before he could start howling, but he’d have to settle for having his neck scratched.

I pointed to Fab in a dramatic fashion. “I want her to do it.”

“If I put water in the microwave, will you stop whining?” She glared. “I don’t know how to make the crap you drink, and I’m not learning.”

Didier scowled at her, which made me happy. My irritation level, which had been on high when I walked into the kitchen thanks to Creole slipping into bed late and leaving early, had all but subsided. I’d felt neglected and grouched at him that he needed to take another day off, and soon, but kissed him on his way out of the bedroom anyway.

Fab, hands on her hips, leaned forward. Before she could start yelling, my phone rang. I looked at the screen and groaned; a call from our pal Dickie this early in the morning wouldn’t be good news. Dickie and Raul had bought Tropical Slumber Funeral Home several years ago, and I met them at the funeral for my Aunt Elizabeth. The men could always be depended on if we were in a tight spot and we returned the favor whenever called upon.

“Good morning,” I said with cheer I didn’t feel.

“We have a problem and need your help.” Dickie breathed heavily into the phone.

I hit the speaker button. “Fab is here, too. Speak up so she can hear you.” I gestured to Didier and put my finger across my lips; Dickie didn’t need to know about him.

“Two people broke into one of the garages, and they’re still out there. Raul saw them go in, and so far, we haven’t seen anyone leave,” Dickie panted. “Raul wants to go out and confront whoever it is, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“That’s a terrible idea,” Fab yelled. “You tell Raul to keep his ass inside and the door locked.” Didier looked at her in surprise. He covered his mouth to hold back the laugh that was eager to escape.

“Why not call the police?” I asked. “They’ll arrest the trespassers, and hopefully they won’t like jail food and won’t come back.”

“We can’t do that,” Dickie said in horror. “Bad publicity isn’t good for our kind of business. We offer respectful send-offs for loved ones, not prowlers and thieves.”

He did have a point. “Is there anything in the garage besides the car and the hearse?” I asked.

“Not that garage,” Dickie huffed. “The one where we store the caskets.”

This time, Didier ducked his head under the counter and laughed. Fab and I exchanged looks, and she fell face down on the island.

“We’ll be right over,” I said.

“I told Raul we could count on you,” Dickie said, and hung up.

“Do you think he was afraid you’d change your mind, and that’s why he didn’t bother with good-bye?” Didier laughed.

“Look, pretty boy, you want to come along and help us catch a…a…casket robber or whatever?” I asked.

Didier shook his head. “What is it your brother says? ‘Sorry, gotta go.’”

I passed Jazz, who had fallen asleep, off to Didier. “You take care of the child while we go to work. Come along, girlfriend.” I hooked my arm in hers. “This won’t take long. We’ll shoot the intruders and be right back.”

“Nooo!” Didier yelled as I opened the front door. “One almost-felon in the house is enough.”

Fab pressed her face against the garden window and made a smooch face. I grabbed the back of her shirt and pushed her in the direction of the SUV.

Chapter 17

The funeral home sat back off the road on the main street that ran through town. Originally an old hot dog drive-thru restaurant, the property had undergone multiple expansion projects. Since Dickie and Raul bought the place, they’d turned the ratty carport into a six-car garage and built a two-story home, attached at the rear of the main building. More recently, they added the crematorium.

Fab pulled up alongside the red carpet that ran from the parking lot to the front door. Somehow, they managed to keep it clean and tire-mark free. Raul had the front door to the main entrance open before we could get out of the SUV.

Before opening the passenger door, I said, “Keep in mind that if someone gets shot, we’ll be sitting here all day.”

Coming through the entrance, my eyes landed on a new display. An antique round wooden table in the middle of the room that normally held a vase of freshly arranged flowers now displayed busts of people in all mediums from bronze to hand-painted, but no one famous that I recognized.

“What’s going on?” Fab asked as she prowled around the room, sticking her head into all the viewing rooms.

I dropped down in my favorite plastic-covered, red brocade chair, positioned next to the door in case a dead person woke up and came strolling out of one of the rooms. In that event, I’d be long gone; every woman for herself. I sighed when Raul closed the door and turned the lock. It sent a shiver up my spine, knowing it was just us and deceased folks.

Raul stopped his pacing and leaned against the entranceway to the main room, where final services were held. “Last night, I spotted a man skulking along the fence at the back of the property. I didn’t think much of it; thought he was a tattoo parlor or pawn shop customer using it as a short cut,” he said in disgust. “This morning, I saw what I’m pretty sure was the same man using the side wall as a restroom.”

I laughed, and Raul and Fab turned and stared. There was a certain segment of Floridian men who thought nothing of watering a tree, bush or plant whenever nature called. The appearance of Dickie diverted the conversation and saved me from having to come up with an explanation for my “inappropriate” behavior. He came down the long hall from his workroom, where he gave the dead their final primping. He’d brought flavored bottled water with him and handed me one. I looked at the label and, seeing that I got orange, nodded and smiled up at him.

Raul and Dickie couldn’t be more different, looks-wise. Raul was the bodybuilder, with olive skin and a medium build, big biceps and well-defined abs. He ran the customer service side of the business. Dickie, his skin tone pale and bordering on unhealthy looking, was over six feet and stick-thin, with long, thin fingers.

The first time he stuck out his hand and those bony tentacles reached for mine, I jumped back. I hope in retrospect that I was polite enough when I said something akin to “no way.”

Fab gave me an evil stare. “What did he look like?” she asked Raul.

Fab and Raul had bonded over late-night games of chess when the funeral home duo had graciously allowed her to lie low at their place and appear for a chat with police on her own terms.

“I only saw the back of him: a thirtyish man, dirty brown hair, with pants that hung down and exposed his butt crack. Someone should tell him tell to pull them up; it’s a dreadful look. I assumed he was by himself until a woman crept around the corner. At least, I think it was a woman, as she had on a skirt,” Raul said.

Dickie interrupted, “Don’t forget the part where she squatted and relieved herself.”

An inappropriate laugh escaped my lips, and this time, I had a hard time getting myself under control. The three of them turned on me, not seeing the humor.

Raul humphed, clearly stressed. “The man opened the side door to the garage, and they both disappeared inside. I kept watch at the kitchen window, and it didn’t take long before they both came back outside, backpacks slung over their shoulders, and hightailed it in the direction of the tattoo parlor. It was closed at the time, so it wasn’t their destination.”

Dickie twisted in his chair. “We took turns manning the window. That’s how we know they weren’t gone very long. They looked comfortable coming and going; never once looked over their shoulders.”

“Dickie wouldn’t let me go and check out the building.”

“I don’t give a damn about the inventory,” Dickie almost yelled. “I worried you might get hurt. What if there were others inside?” His outburst came as a surprise to me; I’d never heard him raise his voice or lose his cool.

“Why the casket room?” Raul said. “There’s nothing to steal. Every coffin requires a forklift to move.”

If they weren’t such good friends, I’d block their calls,
I thought.

“We need the two of you to investigate and take care of the problem,” Dickie said, wringing his hands in his lap. “We would prefer no gun shots, BUT your safety is top priority. If the choice is you or them, don’t hesitate. We don’t want either one of you to get hurt.”

“If anything were to happen to either of you… Well, selfishly, you’re our only friends.” Raul smiled at Fab. “We should’ve called the sheriff. We almost did. Then Dickie and I discussed the lurid headlines that would dominate the local newspaper for who knows how long. New customers might avoid us. Even returning ones might not use us in the future and choose to take their business out of the Keys instead.”

“Are you certain they’re in there now?” I asked.

Both men nodded.

“What do you want us to do with them?” We could get rid of them easily enough, but what about afterwards? “Do you want them arrested? Or Fab could do what she does best—scare the hell out of them.”

They both smiled affectionately at her. I rolled my eyes and wished for something cold and caffeinated.

“I’ll get the keys.” Raul excused himself. Fab trailed behind him.

“Come on.” I motioned to Dickie, and we walked to the kitchen and peered out the infamous window. Nothing outside was moving. I didn’t hear anyone come into the room, but suddenly there was a yank on my hair.

“Oww.” I turned and Fab let go of my hair.

“I’ve got a plan.” She grabbed my arm and jerked me out the door.

“Well?” I skidded to a stop, refusing to budge.

“You fling the door open on three,” she directed. “I’ll take the lead, gun drawn, and hopefully we catch them off guard. If they’re carrying, they’ll have no time to go for their guns. But from the description of those two, I’d be surprised if they had weapons. When I give you the all-clear, you do whatever annoying thing it is that you do to get them to talk.”

“You should be more appreciative; it’s a useful tool that’s helped us out in the past,” I whispered. We crept across the concrete, stopped to listen for any activity, and slunk around the side.

“Look, I just don’t want to hang out with the coffins any longer than necessary.”

“Amen.” I whooshed out a breath. I hoped this would be some sort of misunderstanding, but figured there was zero chance of it turning out that way.

Hand on the door knob, I waited for Fab to give the signal. She held up her fingers one after the other; when she got to three, I yanked the door open, and Fab charged in. I was right behind her, Glock in hand. The woman spotted us first; her eyes locked on our guns, and she screamed, her hands flying into the air.

The two had been sitting on the floor, leaning back against a casket, playing cards and munching on crackers. The man spit out a mouthful of soda, the purple mixture dribbling down his shirt.