Swindled in Paradise (15 page)

“Creole’s here…somewhere,” I told her.

Mother eyed the two of us, looking us over from head to toe. “What have you two been doing today? Skip the shopping excuse and any other made-up story; I know you were out on a job. Madison has tennis shoes on.”

Having been on more than one job with us, Mother knew my shoes of choice were flip-flops, and that tennis shoes were reserved for business attire, worn where running might be the only option.

I arched my brow at Fab in question. It was her boyfriend and her story to tell, not mine.

Mother shifted her gaze to Fab, and they engaged in a stare-off. My money was on Fab breaking first.

Creole and Didier burst through the French doors drenched in sweat. Judging by their attire, they’d had one of their marathon runs on the beach. Creole had once suggested that we run together, and I’d laughed at him. I sometimes accompanied him down to the sand, where he would leave me. I’d walk until I was tired, and he would pick me up on the way back.

“There you are.” Creole crooked his finger at Fab. “I want to see the pictures,” he said as he crossed the room to stand by her side.

Fab wore a deer-in-the-headlights look. She knew he couldn’t see Mother from his vantage point, and she didn’t want to spill the day’s felonious activities before she had a chance to tell Didier.

“Don’t be mad,” Creole whispered to Fab. “I told pretty boy what you were up to. I had it half blurted out before I realized that he didn’t know.”

“Fabiana,” Didier said in a soft voice and held out his arms, “you could have gone to jail.”

Fab ran across the room. Didier enveloped her in his arms and murmured something in her ear. He must have used the right words, as her body visibly relaxed.

Mother stepped out, shaking her finger at Creole and Didier. “You two go shower. You’re getting sand on the floor.” She used the voice that always got Brad and me motivated. “The food will be ready when you two come back downstairs,” she added.

Creole broke the silence that had filled the room. “Fab, would you send a copy to my personal email? Madison will give you the address,” he said hastily, then scurried up the stairs.

Didier gave Fab a quick kiss and followed Creole.

Mother turned on us. “Just maybe I’ll find out what’s going on and what’s so important about these pictures,” she said loudly. “And you two better not end up in jail!” She ended in a yell.

Fab poked me. “Calm her down. Please.”

Spoon pressed his face to the kitchen window and waved. I, for one, was happy to see him. Spoon could keep Mother calm. Mother met him at the door before he could get it open.

I opened a drawer and pulled out some colorful napkins. “Spoon, send Mother back over here when you’re done making out. I need help setting the table.”

Mother turned, her cheeks turning pink. “Madison, a nice kiss is not making out.” Brad didn’t like the PDAs, but it pleased me to see the affection Spoon showed Mother and how she glowed under his attentive eye.

“Anybody object to sitting outside?” I asked.

I needed to tell Fab that she should sit at the opposite end of the table from Mother, thereby cutting off her opportunity to grill Fab. The only option other than outside was the kitchen island, and it would be too intimate a space with so many people, not to mention uncomfortable with all of us squeezed together.

I motioned to Fab to go upstairs. She turned up her nose but went anyway. She needed the time to explain to Didier that our adventure today had been to help him, glossing over the part where he hadn’t found out until after the fact.

Why waste beautiful Florida weather eating inside? The table outside sat twelve, which easily accommodated my family, and I set it with colorful mix-and-match dishes. My newest find, small round vases wrapped in rope, were each stuffed with a string of battery lights.

I bypassed the timer and flooded the backyard with light. The palm tree trunks were wrapped in white Christmas lights, and the potted plants held two solar stakes each, which glowed in the dark. Mother had found globes for the pool that turned different colors while floating on the water, and I tossed in some colored floating LED lights.

Creole walked up and wrapped his arms around me from behind, kissing my neck. “Can we sneak out of here later?” His voice, deep and rich, made me smile.

“If we want any privacy, we’ll have to sneak down to the beach.” I turned in his arms. “My laptop is on the desk, help yourself.”

“I checked before I came out. Fab hasn’t sent them yet.” His voice spiked with irritation.

“Why did you rat Fab out?” I schooled my voice to not let
my
irritation show. “She should have been the one to tell Didier.”

“It didn’t happen that way,” he snapped. “I was putting in a good word about her bravery and how she’d put herself on the line for him. I knew in an instant that he had no idea what I was talking about, and I couldn’t lie or leave him hanging.” He took hold of my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “Didier was never mad. More like awed by her bravery.”

We turned as Fab and Didier approached. I wanted a signal that all was good between her and Didier. She nodded, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Fab handed Creole a folder. “This is from Lauren’s home office; projects she was working on, including the one she was working on with you guys. I forwarded the pictures right before we came out, along with a video.”

Creole nodded and thumbed through the paperwork. “Thank you. I appreciate this.”

“I propose we share information,” Creole offered and stared at Fab intently, waiting for her answer.

“I’m tapped out of info. I shared what I had.”

Trust was hard for Fab. Creole would have to have her back more than a few times for her to warm up. From the beginning, our relationship had taken sheer determination on my part that we were going to be friends. I had to convince her I wouldn’t be like her previous so-called friends and screw her over. Creole would have to do the same.

Not acknowledging the silence, Fab continued, “I’d like to search the office, go through her personal files. The files I found today were carefully hidden, and I’d like to be sure that I didn’t miss anything that would be helpful to Didier, although I’m sure Balcazar is smart enough not to keep anything incriminating around. Any idea what the security is like?” she asked Creole.

Didier, his arm around Fab, wrapped his fingers in her hair and pulled her head back to face him. “I don’t like your idea,
chérie
.”

Fab pushed away and crossed her arms. “I will not sit around and do nothing. Don’t ask me to.” Her face radiated frustration and anger.

“We’ll discuss all of our operations later. Madeline is headed this way.” Creole closed the space between them and hugged Fab. “Good find.” He smiled down at her. “I can’t believe top investigators went over her place and left these behind.”

“I excel at finding things that people want to keep hidden.” She breathed in to calm herself.

Mother joined us. “Dinner’s ready.”

If someone didn’t know better, they would have thought Mother had cooked the veritable feast herself, instead of taking it out of containers, reheating it, and serving it on pretty dishes.

Fab took center stage, telling everyone about her day, making it sound quite ordinary. She confessed to eavesdropping on a conversation between Creole and Didier and said she’d known she could get the information if there was any to get. Turns out, she excelled at storytelling; everyone at the table hung on her every word.

Chapter 21

It was early morning and the house eerily quiet, which made me wonder if anyone was home. I didn’t want to face anyone, embarrassed that I’d fallen asleep so early last night. Tired of endless chit-chat I wasn’t listening to anyway, I’d escaped to my bedroom for a few minutes of alone time and made the mistake of lying on my bed to stare at the ceiling.

As I passed by Fab’s closed bedroom door, I sniffed the air, hoping to be greeted by the scent of coffee, or maybe breakfast—Didier might have decided to cook – but sighed in disappointment.

Fab sat at the island, hand-feeding Jazz tuna, his new favorite. “You’re so rude.” She handed me a coffee mug.

I turned it upside down. “Isn’t there something missing?”

Fab jerked it back, filled it with water, and handed it back. “Here’s your morning coffee.”

I shoved the mug in the microwave. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I sat down, and the next thing I knew, I got a hard slap on the ass.”

Creole had pulled off my clothes and tossed them in the air. They’d ended up in various places on the floor. He turned back the covers, picked me up, and slid between the sheets, pulling me against his chest. Then we fell asleep. As usual, he had to leave early; he left me with a thorough kiss and a promise to return tonight.

Before leaving, he’d said, “I told everyone you weren’t feeling well and didn’t want to stop the party.”

With a wink, I’d offered to cover his ass if he ever needed me to. He responded with a deep, growly laugh and left.

“I love those good-girl spankings,” Fab sighed.

“Please.” I rolled my eyes and made a choking noise. “It’s too early to hear about your sex life.” My phone started ringing annoyingly, and I hit the button to stop it. If only I could send a message: “call after I’ve had my coffee.” Mac’s face beamed at me from the tiny screen. “Ye-es,” I answered.

Fab motioned irritably for me to hit the speaker button. She didn’t involve herself in cottage affairs unless a gun was required, but she also didn’t tolerate being the last to know about something.

“Hope you’re sitting, problem time. I’m almost certain it involves a stolen car.” Mac exhaled loudly.

“Joseph?” I squeezed my eyes shut and counted to three.

Stolen anything had Joseph’s name on it. No one else had the nerve to dump cars at The Cottages. We had yet to have a tourist turn into a felon. In the past, Joseph had escaped being charged with a felony, and I’d hate for his first major charge to be grand theft auto. With his rap sheet of misdemeanor annoying crimes a grown man should know better than to commit, this newest one could carry serious jail time.

“There’s a newish Escalade sitting in his parking spot.”

“A what?” I banged my fist on the counter. “That’s a fifty-thousand-dollar-plus SUV!” I’d never make it through the morning without aspirin.

“Joseph ignored my polite knock, so I yelled and pounded on the door. Everyone else heard me—all our guests had their heads poked through the blinds—but he didn’t make a peep. When I finally yelled, ‘Fine, I’ll get the key,’ he responded, ‘Go away. Your noise makes my head hurt.’”

I lowered my voice, not wanting to take my irritation out on my manager. “Has his feeble mind forgotten that a deputy lives at The Cottages?”

“We caught a break there. Kevin has two days off, and he’s banging his latest girlfriend at her house. Trying to set a good example for Liam, as though teenagers don’t know about sex.” She snorted. “It’s not like he’s a backwards convent girl.”

“I can hear you,” Fab half-yelled.

“I knew it.” Mac laughed, followed by two loud bangs in the background as she kicked the desk. I hoped she had on tennis shoes and didn’t kick a hole in it.

“I should never have let Joseph keep his parking space,” I said. The last car that had appeared out of nowhere had had suspicious origins, having no title and not having been registered in years. I’d managed to convince him to return that one before the police showed up.

How did Joseph repay me? He used his parking space as his personal patio, dragging out a rickety chaise and chair for the occasional friend, more rescues from the trash, something he and the professor had in common. He made it his mission to guard the driveway as though it was his personal domain and kept his eyes peeled for the occasional drunk stumbling by on the street. Like a cat, he fell asleep in seconds, snoring so loudly it could be heard down the block.

“You relay a message—tell him I’m on my way,” I fumed. “If he can’t produce a current title with his name on it, I’m calling a tow truck. Then I’ll give serious thought to bagging up his personal belongings and having him pitched to the curb. Spoon thinks he’s a weasel; he’d probably come do it himself and for free.” Joseph knew that I knew he couldn’t get a car registered in his name. He didn’t have a driver’s license; it had been revoked.

I hung up and called Joseph—who naturally didn’t answer—and left a message: “On my way.”

Fab shook the car keys, eyeing me up and down. “Are you going like that?”

I looked down at my black sweat shorts and t-shirt. I looked at her and crinkled my nose. She rocked her skinny jeans and the black cotton top that hung longer in the back to hide her Walther.

My outfit is new and cute, not to mention comfortable,
I thought with a sniff.

“If you expected me to pull sexy out of my ass, it won’t be today. We can’t all look like you early in the morning.” I bent over, tousled my hair, and slipped into a pair of flip-flops. “Better? Look.” I pointed to my shoes. “They match my outfit.”

“I hope we’re always best friends,” she said, then grabbed my arm and pulled me out the door.

“Now you say that. In the beginning, you treated me like the nerdy girl who was in over her head.”

“I’ll admit that I thought you over-hyped the whole friend idea, but I believe I was mistaken.”

“Wow.” I clutched my chest. “That’s quite an admission, and I didn’t even have to drag it out of your skinny self.”

Chapter 22

Fab pulled out of the driveway like a normal person and made a complete stop at the sign.

I sucked in my breath, wide-eyed. “Ha, you’re an imposter. What did you do with my friend, the one that drives like a crazy person?”

“The sheriff’s deputies are out in force. They set up speed traps and are writing tickets. Two days ago, one started sitting around the corner, and on occasion, two sit there and yell back and forth through their windows.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about that if—”

“Stop. No accidents, no tickets, stop complaining.” She glared at me.