Swindled in Paradise (32 page)

The first uniformed cop was out of his car, gun drawn, yelling, "Hands on your head! Step away from the gun!"

My hands shot up while I wished I could text Creole to get his butt out here to vouch for me and assure them I wasn’t some hardened criminal.

"On the ground," he barked, coming up the driveway.

"Can't we do this while I'm standing?" I whined, holding my breath at the sight of his finger on the trigger and the fierce look on his face. "I have a carry permit in the Hummer.”

He spun me around, pushing against my back. My head hit the SUV with a thud.

"Ohhh," I gasped as my arms were jerked back and the metal cuffs clamped around my wrists and closed tight. "That was my head, damn you."

He pushed me into a sitting position on the grass. "Don't move,” he warned, and took a position to the left of me, turning away.

Two ambulances rounded the corner followed by a fire truck and another, unmarked red truck. I had a good seat. From my vantage point, I could watch everything happening in the driveway. One of those ambulances would be for Balcazar, but the other one?

I tipped precariously to one side and barely caught myself, visions of grass bugs crawling on my face freaking me out. I was certain I wouldn’t be able to right myself without the use of my hands.

Next to arrive was a line of police vehicles. The officers hustled out of their cars and scattered in different directions, several disappearing up the driveway and inside the house. One uniformed officer caught my eye and an icy chill ran up my spine.
What was Officer Watters doing here?”

It wasn’t lost on me that he’d showed up several times these last couple of weeks. I made eye contact with him, and he had the gall to wave.

The last sedan to arrive had deeply tinted windows and edged past the other parked cars, managing to finagle a prime spot. The newest arrival took their sweet time in making an appearance. A ridiculously wide smile broke out on my face when, at last, the door opened and out stepped Creole's boss—Chief Harder. He’d been working out lately, more than his customary game of golf. Gone was his usual rumpled look, and he’d traded in his mom jeans for a pair of Levis.

"Chief!" I yelled, bobbing my head, frustrated I couldn't wave my arms. "Over here!"

The cop guarding me stared down at me.

Chief Harder cut across the grass. "You going to need bail money again?" His mouth twitched.

"You're not funny. And this officer was mean to me.” I fidgeted in his direction. "My head hurts."

Harder hadn't actually had to pony up cash in the past, but he did once rescue me from the weeds and drove me back to civilization after a misunderstanding with a sheriff’s deputy out in the boonies.

"He took my Glock. When you’re done with your investigation, I'd like it back. It was a gift from my brother."

Harder inclined his head toward the cop guarding me. "Uncuff her. She’s a pain but not a criminal.” He narrowed his eyes, and added, “Not yet."

The officer had watched our exchange with his eyebrows permanently arched up, but didn't say anything. He just silently removed the cuffs.

"Chief, sir, I...uh..." I stammered, squeezing my eyes shut, "shot Balcazar."

“I've heard he's going to live." He looked disappointed.

"Fab? Didier? They okay?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yes, your pain-in-the-ass friend is going to be around to torment me in the future."

I felt weak as the adrenaline rush left my body. "You know she likes you a little better now."

Harder laughed. "Don't you dare cry on me, or I'll make sure that boyfriend of yours never gets a day off," he said gruffly and patted my shoulder.

We shared the same lack of enthusiasm for touchy-feely stuff.

“Don’t go anywhere.” He shook his finger. “Make yourself comfortable. This is going to take a while, and an officer will need to get your statement before you can leave. Your friend will be out as soon as they're done with her."

Officer Watters came up from behind the chief and stood next to him, listening to the exchange. The fierce way he studied me made me uncomfortable.

"Can I sit in the back of my car?” I pointed to where it had been moved into the street. “I’ll keep the back open and stay in plain sight.”

Harder nodded, then turned away. “She’s all yours.”

A bolt of fear shot through me, thinking he meant that Watters would question me. I breathed a big sigh of relief when I realized he was talking to yet another detective who’d just showed up.

"We’ve met before." I grimaced in recognition. "You rousted one of my drunk tenants, making him pee himself, and he hid inside his cottage for a week.” He’d had a partner with him then, and I’d named the duo good cop/bad cop. Maybe his interrogation technique would remind me which one he was.

He smirked. "We'll sit in your vehicle, in case you feel the need to follow your tenant’s unfortunate example."

He followed me to the car and waited while I opened the back. Before he could begin the questioning, however, his phone rang. He took a few steps away and answered it. I quickly walked to the front of the car and retrieved my phone from the console, returning to the back and texting Mother that everyone was unhurt.

I knew she was mad, because she didn't bother to text back. Spoon called instead, wanting to know if I was okay. I told him it would be a while and I’d text when we were on the way home.

The officer sauntered over and sat next to me. "Start at the beginning; don't leave anything out. I'll decide what’s important."

Chapter 46

A paramedic wheeled Balcazar, strapped to a gurney, to the back of the ambulance. The woman who’d peered out the window followed, yelling, “I’ve worked for you all these years, and you treat me like this!” She hocked spit down the front of him. “Pendejo!” she screamed. An older officer grabbed her by the arm, turning her away. She exchanged words with him before calming down.

The ambulance left, with no flashing lights or blaring sirens. I took that to mean that Harder had been right and Balcazar wasn't in danger of dying.

Another gurney followed, flanked by two paramedics. Their attention was on the dark-haired woman strapped down on it and not moving, unlike Balcazar, who’d shouted a few obscenities. They loaded her in the back of the remaining ambulance and sped off, this time with sirens.

My bottom ached from sitting on the back ledge of the Hummer, and I was bored with sitting. The only exciting action had just pulled off down the street. I entertained thoughts of how to sneak past the two bookends on guard at the gate and get answers to the hundred or so questions on the growing list in my mind. But after being somewhat well-behaved, I’d be in so much trouble if Creole had to pick me up at the jail.

There he is again,
I thought. Watters had joined the guards at the entrance, his arms crossed in an intimidating stance as he stared me down.

A shadow appeared in my peripheral vision, and I squealed.

"The investigation is winding down," Help informed me and held up his hand when I tried to talk. “Don’t ask. You’ll have to get your answers from Creole.”

“Just one.” I held up my index finger. “Who was the woman?”

“Tina Balcazar. Heir to a billion-dollar fortune and headed to jail if she survives. At least she’ll have spending money.”

Damn! I wished I’d gotten a better look. I’d seen society photos, but that didn’t compare to up close and personal.

"Thank you for tracking Creole down for me earlier. I owe you one.”

"No, you don't. I appreciate it that you kept your mouth shut about my identity and didn’t broadcast it all over town.”

"I'm good at keeping secrets," I said.

"Creole assured me that was the case."

"Shirl—you remember, my tenant?” I tried to maintain eye contact under his glare but ended up glancing away for a moment. “We never mention your name except in an abstract way. She can also keep a secret." They’d met while he was pretending to be an insurance agent named Steve, and she always looked ridiculously satisfied after he’d left her bed.

"It's hard, in my line of work, to have a relationship. Especially one I don't fuck up." He looked down, running his hands through his dark hair.

"It's none of my business, but whatever happens, just don't be a total dick to her.” When he didn’t respond, I said, “Stop by Jake's and give the bartender the secret code: ‘free meal.’" Before he left, I wanted to point out Watters and ask Help what he knew. But when I glanced over to where I’d last seen him, he was gone.

"Thanks. They’ll be out soon." Help waved and disappeared down the street in the direction of the park.

Every time I ran into Help, he evaporated into thin air like a ghost when it was time to leave. I’d like to ask him to teach me that trick.

* * *

It surprised me that there were no lookie-loos from the neighborhood. I craned my neck up and down the street, but not one single person was curious enough to investigate the sirens coming and going, not to mention the police and emergency vehicles. Lurking around a crime scene might tarnish their image.

“Madison!” a voice shrieked.

I jerked to an upright position from where I’d been lying in the back of the SUV. I squealed and sprang out, running to meet Fab and Didier, who were walking hand in hand in my direction. I skidded to a stop and flung my arms around them. “Love you both so much.” I smiled at Didier. “You’re so rumpled,” I teased.

“
Chérie
.” He scooped me up into a bear hug. “Honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever see the two of you again.”

That hit me in the gut, and tears gathered in my eyes.

“Don’t you dare cry, or I’ll slug you.” Fab hugged me.

“Happy to see you unblemished and in one piece. I need a best friend, and it has to be you.”

“Not going anywhere. You’d never find a good replacement.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Didier admonished.

“Oh piffle. Where else would I be? Tell me, did Fab kick in the window and swing in like Tarzan?” I beamed at her. “Where’s Creole?”

“Right here.” His arms wrapped around me from behind.

“Who’s going to tell me what happened?” I asked, feeling annoyed that I even had to.

“I can’t talk about the case until it’s over,” Creole said. “But I can listen while Fab and Didier fill us in.”

“Help showed up at the kitchen door right behind me,” Fab explained. “‘Do you even know what stay put means?’ he growled in my ear. Whether he liked it or not, though, I was going in. I was just about to kick him in the… Well, not there, but close.”

Creole and Didier sucked in their breath.

“Then the maid yelped from the doorway, a soda flying out of her hand. Help is quick on his feet,” Fab said in admiration. “I motioned for her to stay, and Help flashed his badge at the same time. Then another woman’s voice screamed, ‘Marta, get in here!’”

“That Marta is a tough one,” Didier said. “I need to say thank you to her for her efforts. When I first got there, we had a moment alone, and she tried to undo the ropes. She succeeded in getting one loosened before Tina came back in the room.”

“Well, we followed her when she answered Tina’s call, and were able to see into the room where they were holding Didier without them spotting us. Do you know what happened next?” Fab looked at me pointedly.

“The doorbell rang!” I exclaimed.

“We suffered a few tense moments right before that, but I held off from shooting them. Tina was pointing a gun in Didier’s face, shrieking about how he’d wrecked their plans. Balcazar cautioned her to wait until Nado delivered Madison and me. They argued over who would pull the trigger—he’d never killed before—always paying someone else to do the dirty work and dispose of the messiness. Tina was adamant that Nado be the one to dump our bodies in some remote location she knew of in Alligator Alley. He was in for a nasty surprise, though. Instead of payment, he’d get a bullet too.”

I shuddered, remembering all the times we’d joked about feeding remains to the alligators, not to mention the vultures.

“Tina Balcazar. Brains, beauty, money—what a waste,” Creole said in disgust.

“A frozen block of ice for a heart,” Didier said.

“Then you-know-who was at the gate.” Fab pointed at me. “Tina sent Marta to get it, thinking it was Nado. Balcazar followed, a gun jammed in the woman’s back. Nado was already late and Balcazar got more agitated each time he called the man’s cell phone and there was no answer.”

“Everything happened at once.” Didier shuddered.

“A shot rang out, then Balcazar was yelling he was dying. Tina was momentarily distracted, and Creole shot her from the opposite side of the room.”

I smiled up at him, clasping my hands across his arms.

“Tina’s gun went off. Then I screamed.” Fab looked haggard, reliving the moment. “Didier slumped to one side. I thought he’d been shot or worse, not realizing the bullet was embedded in the wall right over his head. Her gun clattered to the floor and she fell, and damned if she didn’t try to crawl toward it, even though she was shot in the upper chest. Creole put his foot on her back and stopped her forward movement.”

“Fab brandished a knife and cut the ropes, not a single nick.” Didier held out his arms to show me, then leaned into her, brushing her lips with a kiss. I winced at the sight of the rope burns around his wrists.

Creole’s phone alerted to a message. I groaned, knowing it wouldn’t be good news.

“The chief is demanding my reappearance. We’ll talk in the morning. I’ve got a few more questions.” He hugged his friend, then turned to me. His lips met mine and turned the gentle contact into a demanding kiss. “When you roll over, I’ll be there.”

The blush started at my neckline and went straight up.

“Good thing you gave us a heads up. I’d hate to shoot you, thinking you’re a prowler.” Fab gave him a cheesy grin.

"I’m happy that another brush with death hasn't affected your sense of humor." He stalked off.

Fab grabbed my arm, tugging me around to the driver’s side. "Didier isn't getting his car back tonight anyway. Do you mind driving?"