Swindled in Paradise (8 page)

“What makes you think Ursula’s still in the area?” I asked.

“She’s been sighted a few times in various parts of the Keys. It surprised me that she didn’t skip town. First, you need to find her. She gave my guy the slip and then showed back up right under his nose. I’ve got two addresses you can check out.” He turned his glare on me. “Miss Schmoozy here can shake the information out of Ursula’s neighbors, acquaintances, whoever you can find. I’m not sure how you get people to spill their guts, but if it can be used to Ian’s advantage, it works for me.” He passed me a notepad with the addresses on it.

I flicked the page. “We need a list of names, other pertinent information, something besides two measly addresses.”

He opened a desk drawer and produced a sheet of scribbled notes across the desk. “Make the most of it; it’s better than nothing,” he grumped.

I held the page at arm’s length and squinted. “You could use a handwriting class.”

“Smart a…” he mumbled. “Ian’s a single father. His wife died of cancer a few years back, and he’s raised one happy little girl.” He paused to glare at us before continuing, “And another thing… if you two are inclined to side with your own sex and believe the crap Ursula spews about Ian, you should ask around about him. No one is going to say an unkind word about him because it wouldn’t be the truth. Even the neighbors took Ian’s side and didn’t believe Ursula. When they found out what happened, they gathered replacement household and clothing items for him.”

Fab passed her empty water bottle over my shoulder, I tossed it in the direction of the can but this time I missed, sending it flipping off the rim.

“You have terrible manners.” Brick eyed me.

“Call and complain to Mother.” I said, knowing full well she scared him. “You could part with one of your Cubans, and I’ll give it to her with your regards.” I eyed the humidor.

“No thanks. She’ll talk you out of working for me, and then I’ll have problems with Princess here.” He smiled at Fab.

What was the secret to their relationship?
I wondered.
He always has her back.

“Where can we find Ian?” Fab asked.

“Insurance is covering their stay at a residential hotel until repairs can be made to the house. They approved the claim pretty quickly. He called the contractor and had a few of the boards over the windows removed. The neighbors keep an eye out to discourage undesirables. Last thing Ian needs is for someone to camp out and set the house on fire.”

I tapped my finger on the note he’d given me. “Write down the name of his hotel and the address of the trashed house.”

“You need to talk to Ian, you can do it by appointment here at my office. You shouldn’t have a problem finding the house, it should be crawling with workmen, repairs just got started.”

Fab bent across his desk. “Just so we’re in agreement, anything goes wrong and our fee is quadrupled.”

Brick slammed his hand down. “Listen, you two money-suckers, ever since you thought up this enhanced fee, you’ve charged it on every case. This time, there will be
no
guns, no violence, no one so much as stubs their toe. Fab…” His tone suddenly changed to one of concern. “Sorry to hear about the boyfriend. My resources are available. He needs bail, I’ll get it posted. Reassure him that if he’s booked, he won’t have to spend a minute in a cell. I’ll handle this one myself.”

I liked the caring side of Brick. I hadn’t believed it when Fab assured me it existed until I saw it for myself.

“Thanks,” she said softly. “Right now, he’s hopping one hurdle at a time. He’s got Cruz in his corner. You run in those circles. Ask around, find out who wanted Lauren Grace dead.”

“I’ve got some feelers out now; I’ll keep you informed,” he reassured her.

Fab stood up and nudged me. “Don’t forget the snacks.”

I stood and plunged my hand into the candy bowl.

“Stay off the damn banisters,” Brick yelled as Fab disappeared out the office door.

I waved a fistful of treats at him and followed her out.

Fab looked like she had the weight of the world on her slender frame. There hadn’t been an update from Didier, and I knew she’d worry until she heard from him, assuring her Cruz was living up to his reputation and keeping him out of jail.

“What next?” I asked. “Stakeout?”

She turned up her nose. There wasn’t anything exciting about a stakeout—just a bunch of waiting, eating junk food, and nowhere to go to the bathroom.

“That option is way down on the list,” she said. “Since Ursula’s so good at spotting a tail, we need to be extra vigilant. I refuse to follow her all over town when all we’ll get is a big fat nothing. We’ll wait outside her house. When she leaves, you follow her, and park at the end of the block. If she turns around and comes back, call me. Hopefully, by the time she gets back, I’ll have had a look around inside and found a clue as to what she did with Ian’s stuff.”

“Creole gets attitudinal when we commit felonies. I haven’t had a lecture in a while, and I’d like to keep it that way. It kills the getting-frisky mood.”

Fab’s laugh conveyed that she didn’t care what he thought. “We need to take care of this case fast. I want to be available for Didier. I’m not taking any new clients right now, not criminal ones anyway. My full attention is going to be on Didier.”

“I made a little checklist that could bring our felony count to an all-time high, starting with Lauren’s house. Next stop, snoop through Balcazar’s corporate offices. We need to hurry, in case someone decides to clean out her desk and any personal belongings, if they haven’t already. I weaseled a little info out of Brad—Didier was the connection to Lauren through her boss, Balcazar—but I asked too many questions, and he clammed up, making it clear he didn’t want me nosing around.”

“Call our Information Coordinator. Tell her we need a rush job––two in fact. This Ursula chick and a thorough investigation on anyone who knew Lauren Grace.”

“That’s a fancy title; Phil hears that and she’ll raise her prices. She’s already working on Didier’s case.”

Fab stepped on the gas. “We need to get home. I need a glass of wine out by the pool before we go to dinner.”

Chapter 11

Looking in the mirror, I sighed. Another date night with Fab and Didier, which meant dress-up, painful shoes, and dining with nameless people with a need to be seen. Who could be so important that you’d be willing to eat at an overpriced restaurant where the food sometimes made you wish for a greasy hamburger?

One afternoon, while I was shopping with Fab, she’d chosen a low-cut, black dress for me that required a strapless bra, which I was now adjusting. The owner of the lingerie store I frequented had talked me into the newest addition to the bra line, the ultimate push-up, instantly adding two cup sizes. I poked the top of my cleavage, knowing it would disappear as soon as I unhooked the back.

Fab had insisted that the dress was a must-have—every woman needed more than one in her closet. I tried to curb her enthusiasm pointing out that I had three such dresses, but she wasn’t listening. So I bought it with every intention of returning it, but soon discovered she’d thrown away the receipt. I slid my wincing toes into two-inch black heels, the highest I could manage without falling. They had been a gift from Fab, along with a threat that if I didn’t wear them, she would burn my flip-flops.

Creole, who was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looked up when my foot hit the first step. His eyes glittered with heat, turning deep blue, promising an interesting evening. I flew into his open arms, and the rush of his breath on my neck calmed me.

I wanted to whisper,
Throw me over your shoulder and take me to your lair.
Instead, I pushed my diamond encrusted heart necklace, a recent gift from Creole, into his palm and turned, holding up my hair.

“It’s about time,” Fab muttered. Draped across Didier’s lap, she flicked her watch. Didier tugged on her hair.

I winked at her, tactfully not reminding her of all the times she kept us waiting. The woman wasn’t acquainted with “on time.” She looked perfectly put together, as usual. Her long brown hair cascaded down her back in loose curls, and her black designer dress clung to her slender frame like a glove.

“How is it that you got to pick the restaurant twice in a row?” Creole asked Fab in a suspicion-laced voice.

“The restaurant is owned by Didier’s friend, Balcazar, and we’re going to support him. What’s wrong, Neanderthal? Too much dress up for you?” Fab snickered.

This should be interesting,
I thought.

“Babe, I think you look hot-hot,” I said with admiration, leisurely perusing him from head to toe before turning to Didier. “You come in a very close second.”

Both men were dressed in black dress pants and Italian loafers, only differing in shirt choice. Didier wore a long-sleeved black dress shirt and Creole had on the shirt Mother had got him from an upscale boutique that had become a favorite now that she had men in her life to dress.

Fab buried her head in Didier’s chest and made an unidentifiable noise. Didier laughed and jerked her to his side, clamping an arm around her. He whispered something in her ear, and she cooed up at him. “I apologize. It seems my girlfriend forgot to give you all the details.” He looked down at Fab. “I appreciate your going. Not sure why I got the invite, as the relationship between Balcazar and me has been strained since Lauren’s death.”

“Let’s go.” Fab grabbed Didier’s arm and practically dragged him out the door.

It surprised me when Fab jumped behind the wheel of the Hummer. I would’ve thought she’d choose her Mercedes.

I snuggled up to Creole in the backseat, and we did little talking, sneaking a kiss or two.

* * *

Fab was a completely different driver with her boyfriend sitting next to her; she didn’t turn unless there was plenty of room, slowed at every yellow light, and ran only slightly over the speed limit. Finally, she pulled up in front of a valet stand, and the door was quickly opened by a young hottie. Fab handed the keys to the twenty-something with beach boy looks.

“You joyride,” she said, glaring at the guy, “and I’ll have you arrested.”

He looked surprised at her bluntness.

“Her father is the Chief of Police here in Miami,” I lied convincingly. Harder would kill me if that ever got back to him. At fiftyish, he liked them young, and he’d be insulted at the father label. He was old enough, but he’d deny it.

“I’m going to tell him you said that,” Creole said. He held his arm out. I linked mine in his and turned, noticing for the first time that the lit-up restaurant with sidewalk seating was the scene of the shooting, B’s. I skidded to a stop.

“I’m not setting foot inside there. Why didn’t you tell me about this?” I practically shouted at Fab. Heads turned at my outburst, but I didn’t care. “Don’t you think you owe it to me to let me decide if I wanted to come back here or not?”

Creole cut off her response and turned me to face him. “What happened that I don’t know about?”

“Fab and I were almost gunned down in this restaurant. Remember the day I texted that I had something to tell you? At the time, I thought getting shot at should wait until we were face to face. Then Didier got arrested.” I pulled away and marched over to the valet, who was getting ready to drive off in the Hummer. I jerked the door open and held my hand out. “Give me the keys. Please.”

“No can do. It’s her car.” He tossed his head in Fab’s direction.

“It’s registered to me.” I leaned in, jerking the keys from his hand. The valet got out, shrugged and walked away.

Didier lowered his head and whispered in Fab’s ear. He dragged her to the curb, arguing in French. Whatever lie she came up with placated him, and his anger dissipated somewhat.

“I should have told you, but I didn’t think you would come,” Fab said. “The odds are good it won’t happen again tonight.”

“We’re leaving,” I fumed.

Didier and Creole edged off to one side and huddled together.

“Are we okay?” Fab asked.

“Of course we are,” I said.

She nodded.

“What did Balcazar say when you told him you wouldn’t be back?” I dragged her over to an empty outside table, trying to keep my voice down. “You left out a few pertinent details that day, such as his relationship with Didier. Does your boyfriend know his friend tried to hook you into something illegal?”

“It doesn’t matter. Balcazar’s shutting down the games until the investigation into Lauren’s death is over. Word on the street is that they hit the wrong restaurant; the message was meant for someone else.”

“I can’t believe you spouted that drivel with a straight face. Heads up—I didn’t tell Creole before, but I’m relaying the gruesome details on the way home. Working for this Balcazar character could get you killed. Think about that.”

It annoyed me that Fab wasn’t taking this seriously. Right now, her attention was on her boyfriend and she was looking frustrated that she wasn’t close enough to eavesdrop.

I nudged her out of her reverie. “I suppose if they decide that Lauren was killed by mistake, you’ll believe that too?”

“At this point, all I want is for them to no longer consider Didier a person of interest. Once they do that, they’ll start looking for the real murderer.” Fab tucked a stray lock of my hair behind my shoulder. “I knew this dress would look great on you.”

“Was there any doubt? You picked it out.” I smiled at her. “Don’t try to change the subject. We’re not cats; we only have one life, and we take too many chances as it is.”

Didier wrapped his arms around me from behind and whispered, “I guess this dinner wasn’t meant to happen. Turns out there’s another reason for you to leave; Creole will explain. Go ahead and go. Fab and I will take a cab home.”

Creole was already behind the wheel of my Hummer. The valet stood at the passenger door and helped me in, and without a word between us, we eased into traffic.

“I’m sorry, I probably overreacted. But when I realized where we were, it freaked me out. Should we be leaving them here?” I looked out the back window, but they had already disappeared inside. “What did Didier mean when he mentioned a second reason for leaving?”