Swindled in Paradise (14 page)

“Don’t even think about going by yourself. Forget the rental car, we’ll use the Hummer,” I said as I stood up. “Do you know if the police have finished their investigation? The police tape gone?”

“Lauren wasn’t high profile. Once the investigation of the scene was over, they wouldn’t leave an officer behind to stand guard.”

“You always do these jobs at night. Why the change?” I refused to lecture about unnecessary risks when I knew she’d do anything for Didier, including going to jail.

“We’re going in the early morning hours. It will still be dark out, and hopefully no one will be milling around. Didier’s in New York; what’s your slug up to?”

I flashed her a dirty look and started for the house.

“Okay…boyfriend. Happy now?” Fab called.

I turned in the doorway. “I thought you two were growing on one another?”

She jumped up and followed me inside. “Like a rash.” She laughed behind me. “We like each other fine. You and I both know that Creole won’t like what I’m about to do. He’ll be mad I dragged you into a crime with a chance of us ending up in matching orange jumpsuits.”

“You’re in luck.” I opened the refrigerator, taking out my conch shell-shaped glass pitcher, a flea market find that I’d filled earlier with apple water that I made myself. “Creole won’t be here tonight to put his foot down or, as my father used to threaten, ‘Do I need to put my foot up your ass?’”

“Did you and Brad get the foot?” She kicked her foot in the air, laughing.

“When he used that threat, we stopped horsing around. He was the easiest-going man until we irked his last nerve.”

“I grew up with rules. When I broke them, I got punished, a lot of times banished to my room, which I hated. Now I live to break all the rules.”

I felt bad that Fab didn’t have a relationship with her parents, but there was no forgiveness on either side. They’d turned their backs on her and her wild ways, and the only chance of them making up was if Fab turned into another person. They had a mold of the perfect daughter, and she would need to be an exact fit. It had surprised me when she told me that they’d never approve of Didier.

“No more alcohol.” I filled both of our glasses with apple water.

Fab sniffed hers, then took a sip.

“Stop doing that, it’s so rude.” I mimicked her evil eye. “You know I hate early—so wake me in the morning. You better give me time to get dressed, not some last-minute, hurry up deal.”

Her disturbing laugh trailed behind her as she disappeared up the stairs.

Chapter 19

Huddled behind the wheel of the Hummer, I noticed the South Beach revelers had already made their way home to sleep off their alcohol-induced states. In the dark, it looked like any other neighborhood. I groaned when my phone rang, knowing by the ringtone that it was Creole. I held my finger over the disconnect button, debating, but finally decided to take the call. He’d just call back anyway. The ringing stopped.

“Shoo.” My fist shot into the air. The smile on my face disappeared when the phone started ringing again. “Damn him,” I mumbled. “Hi, honey,” I answered with overblown cheerfulness, then flinched, certain that would alert him that something was up.

“Honey, my backside.” He rumbled out a deep laugh. “Where the hell are you?”

“We’re in a great neighborhood; no criminals here. White-collar ones, perhaps. If you were here, we could walk on the beach,” I rambled.

Total silence––I knew he hadn’t hung up; I could hear him breathing. I blew into the phone to restart the conversation.

“Damn it, that’s my ear,” he grouched.

“There’s no pleasing you today. Talk to you later.”

“Don’t you dare hang up, or I’ll call in your license plate. Now where are you?” His voice had taken on a serious edge.

I wanted to end the call, to weasel out of the questions, but I wouldn’t hang up. The thought of sleeping by myself for several days was an effective deterrent. “Did you miss the meeting on misusing police resources?”

Silence again.

“Oh, all right.” I heaved a sigh. “We’re at Lauren’s condo. One of us is tossing the joint; the other sitting in the SUV.”

“How long has Fab been up there?” He sounded surprisingly calm, and that surprised me.

“Less than five, not counting the time it takes to get up there and all.”

“Do you have a way to contact her––the one committing felonies, breaking and entering, fucking with a crime scene, etcetera?”

“Language,” I said in a shocked voice, covering the phone so he didn’t hear me chuckle. “Yes to your question.”

“I want pictures of every single room. And anything else she thinks I need to see. Tell her if she gets caught and jeopardizes the case, I’ll knock Didier out of the way to strangle her first. Call me back when you’ve made contact.”

“Hanging up now.” I clicked off and sent the message, asking her to confirm so there would be no misunderstanding.

It took too long, in my opinion, before I got back a thumbs-up text. In fact, it took so long that I started to think something had gone wrong. We hadn’t discussed a plan for how I’d come to the rescue, and I knew that was on purpose.

I called Creole back. “Done,” I said when he answered.

“Where are you? Exactly!” He’d reached his limit of stalling and attempts at evasive answers.

“Sitting across the street at metered parking, listening to the waves pound on the shore.” Under the last bit of moonlight, they looked high, racing over one another to crash on the sand. The surfers were coming out in droves and gathering in groups.

“Listen to me. Don’t make some excuse later that you weren’t paying attention. If police cars show up, leave. Fab will text you when she gets out. There’s not a single reason why both of you should get arrested. Driving the getaway car is a crime.” His voice was controlled, but I knew he wasn’t happy.

“Fab always has my back. You know she would never ditch me in a similar situation. Why can’t I help her out?” My voice trailed off as I leaned back against the seat.

“You are helping. I wasn’t suggesting you ditch her. It would take days, or more, to walk back to the Cove from Lauderdale. Fab is a pro. She’ll come walking out any minute, and you’ll be there to give her a ride.”

“Did you just give Fab a compliment?” I kept my eyes glued on the lobby door, occasionally checking out the side of the building in case she came out through the garage.

“Don’t tell her,” he said with humor in his voice. “Promise me you won’t take any unnecessary chances.”

“I won’t. Are you mad?”

“I’d rather have searched the place myself, but pictures will work. The last thing I’d do is ask Didier’s girlfriend to put herself in jeopardy, but now that it’s happened, I’m anxious to see what she’s got. I tried hitting up a friend for a favor to get my hands on the file, but he turned me down. ‘Nothing personal,’ he said, but apparently there’s a password required for access,” he said, his voice laced with frustration. “Text me when she gets back.”

It didn’t take long before my phone rang again. This time it was Fab. “You okay?” I whispered.

“I’m up the street on the beach side. Come pick me up. I’ll be the one standing in the street with my thumb out.”

I threw my phone on the console and squealed out of the parking space. All the waiting had made me jittery. Instead of subtly pointing her thumb out to the road, she started jumping up and down and waving when she saw the SUV. She looked fresh off the beach—white shorts, navy-and-white button-down shirt, floppy hat, and a cotton bag over her shoulder. To my surprise, she didn’t run around to the driver’s side and demand that I move over.

“Am I dropping you off at another location?” I asked. When she shook her head, I pulled over into a parking space. “Let’s switch sides now. Your instructive driving techniques give me a headache.”

She shook her finger. “Don’t say I never let you drive.”

“You should call Creole. He wanted me to call when you showed up, but I don’t have the answers to his questions,” I told her.

“How did he find out?” She quickly pulled away from the curb. This early near the beach, the streets were deserted, and even the bars that stayed open until the early morning hours were closed.

“He called, asked where we were, and I didn’t lie. He’d find out sooner or later, and when he did, why should I be the one to go without sex?” I stuck out my lower lip.

“Men! It doesn’t matter. I planned to bring it up somehow, tell Didier when he got home––I thought maybe liquor would help.” Fab picked up my phone and hit redial. “Got what you wanted,” she said, then hit the speaker button.

“Thanks,” Creole said. “I’m assuming you weren’t arrested. Did anyone see you, coming, going, or otherwise?”

“I didn’t see a single person. I kept the brim of my sun hat down, didn’t take off my dark glasses, and avoided cameras.”

“I’ll be over later for dinner. You two cooking?” He laughed.

Fab and I made faces at the phone. Neither of us found him amusing. I was once a great cook, but it no longer held any interest for me, and it didn’t help that Mother had gotten me addicted to take-out. I’d never seen Fab touch a pot or pan.

“I’m almost out of frozen waffles,” I said. “We’ll stop at the market and get more.”

“I’ll call you when I’m headed in that direction. You call in the takeout order.”

“Fine.” I winked at Fab.

“Ease my mind and tell me that the two of you are going home,” he sighed.

“Yes, we’re headed that way,” Fab assured him, and hung up.

“I’m not waiting until tonight; I want details now,” I said after she tossed the phone at me.

“You would have loved her place: open floor plan, one-hundred-eighty-degree view of the Atlantic Ocean, decorated in comfortable slip-covered furniture, beach chic. You two could have collected shells together.” Fab hated that I collected shells. I took a bucket or two with me when I went for walks on the beach, brought them back full, and used them as mulch in the potted plants.

“The places we usually break into are all uptight chrome and glass, where it looks like no one has ever sat on the furniture.” A couple of times, I’d wanted to leave my butt-print on the pristine leather couch but figured the owner would notice.

“It was a clean crime scene, no signs anyone had tossed the place, and nothing looked out of place, except in the living room. You know, plenty of dried blood stains on the carpet.” Fab flew onto the interstate in record time, just ahead of morning rush hour.

“The rest of the condo?” I asked.

“Lauren had great organizational skills; everything had its place, all the drawers and closets were organized, even her bed had been made. Not like at your house, with the ginormous junk drawer that a person can’t find anything in.”

“There’s a fully-loaded Beretta in there, just in case,” I said. “What’s in the bag?” I tossed a glance over my shoulder to the back seat.

“I found a couple of files and several journals that she’d hidden in the bookcase behind some legal books.”

“Apparently not well enough.” A grin slid across my lips.

Chapter 20

Lost in thought, Fab almost missed our street and turned hard, squealing around the corner. “Look who just pulled up to the curb.” She looked in the rearview mirror.

“Mother.” I glanced at the dash clock. “Five bucks says she’s got dinner.”

Fab shook her head as though I’d lost my mind. “When does she show up without food?”

Mother’s horn sounded.

“That’s code for she needs help.”

“You go. I’m going to sneak this stuff into the house so she doesn’t ask questions.” Fab grabbed her tote bag.

We’d stopped at The Cottages on the way home. There was no one around, so Fab went into the office and copied the files she’d lifted from Lauren’s condo. One held several real estate contracts, the top one for the deal Brad and Didier had been negotiating. The most interesting file had handwritten notes stuffed inside it and a thumb drive taped to the cover. Knowing Mac kept extras of every kind of office supplies, I reached into the cabinet and handed Fab another drive to make a copy, thereby expediting Creole’s chances of seeing it sooner, rather than later.

Mother stood holding open the back door of her black SUV and looking impatient. You couldn’t get into this family unless you drove a black automobile. I skimmed over her knee-length hot pink shorts to her wedge flip-flops and enveloped her in a hug.

“I recognize that silver bow.” I pointed to her shoes, the designer insignia catching my attention. “Did you get me a pair?”

“Only one pair left, and they’re mine.” She wiggled her pink-manicured toes.

“Maybe I can borrow them?” I asked wistfully.

She shook her head and frowned. “You already have enough of my shoes in your closet. Where’s Fab?”

I ignored her question and reached for the two shopping bags with the large red crab insignia on them, sticking my nose in for a sniff. “Yum, smells great.”

“I brought everyone’s favorites. Did you forget that Spoon and I were coming for early dinner?” Mother grabbed two pink boxes from everyone’s favorite bakery.

“I did.” I made a pouty face. “Your timing is perfect though—everyone’s going to be home tonight.” I eyed the pink boxes. “I love that you always remember dessert.”

Mother looped her arm through mine and walked across the driveway. I frowned when I saw that Fab had left the front door open. I didn’t think Jazz would go for a stroll, but it might be an invitation he couldn’t ignore. I never let him out the front; he could hang out in the backyard on comfortable patio furniture.

I set the bags on the kitchen counter, looking out the garden window, and was surprised to see Creole’s truck parked in the neighbor’s driveway across the street. The couple that owned the house used it as a vacation getaway and had told me once that I could use their driveway for extra parking so the house didn’t appear vacant.

Fab could be heard jumping down the stairs, one of her favorite things to do. She slid into the kitchen, kissed Mother’s cheek, and opened the refrigerator. “Cold drinks, anyone?” She looked pleased with herself, which meant she was up to something.