Trouble in Paradise (12 page)

“I promise. You take care of yourself. If you change your
mind and want help to get off the street, get in touch.” Apple disappeared
around the corner in a blink.

I passed on the coffee, my stomach suddenly severely
nauseous. I wanted to go home and nap.

“Where are you?” I asked Fab, when she answered the phone.

“Your house, feeding Jazz. Uh-oh hold on.” 

Now what?

“Sorry, Jazz was about to barf on me. You’ll be proud of me.
I just caught cat puke in a paper towel, I watched you do it a couple of times
and figured if you could do it so could I. Guess he doesn’t like those cat
treats I bought.”

I covered my mouth so I wouldn’t laugh. “Will you meet me
out front with a garbage bag and a pair of gardening gloves?”

“Wouldn’t miss this.”

Just as well Fab didn’t ask for any details, since I’d have
to lie to get her to go with me. “I’ll be there in five.”

Turning the corner onto my street, Fab magically appeared on
the sidewalk.

“What are we doing?” Fab asked, getting into the passenger
seat.

“You know how we’re such good friends?”

“Stop this car I want out!” Fab yelled.

I hit the lock button and stepped on the gas, cruising
through the yellow light. “You don’t have to do anything but give me moral support.”

“Why, why, why don’t I ask ahead of time?” Fab grumbled.

“It wouldn’t do any good, I would’ve lied to you.”

“I’m such a bad influence.”

The office parking space at The Cottages was empty. I pulled
into the spot, then grabbed the trash bag and gloves, and got out of the car.

“What are you two doing here?” Mac walked out of the office
towards us, her tennis shoes lighting up with each step. “We have another
problem?”

“Good question. I’d like to know the same thing,” Fab said.

“Miss January?” Mac asked.

“How did you know?” I asked. “Where is she?”

“She thinks Kitty ran away. She wobbled around drunk and
crying, so I helped her inside, and she passed out on her bed.”

“Think ‘best friend’ and ‘moral support,’” I motioned for
Fab to follow. I pulled the gardening gloves on as we walked across the street.
I breathed a sigh of relief: at the bottom of the orange pot lay Kitty.

“What the hell?” Fab said, looking in.

“We have that hideous Kyle kid to thank for this.” I took a
deep breath, picked up the dead cat, laid it on the plastic bag and wrapped it
up.

“He needs his ass kicked,” Fab said. “Let’s have a talk with
his father.”

I carried Kitty back across the street. “Do you have the
key?” I yelled to Mac, who stood in the driveway watching us.

Quietly we entered Miss January’s cottage; I heard loud
snoring coming from the bedroom. I unwrapped Kitty, and put her onto the couch
where I’d seen it a few times before, arranging it to look natural. For a
drunk, she kept her cottage spotless; a few pieces of furniture, not a single
knick knack.

“How did you know where to find Kitty?” Mac asked me when I
walked back outside. Fab stood next to her, having ditched me after I retrieved
Kitty. She’d had enough of moral support.

“A drunk told me,” I said. “Just so we’re clear, anything I
tell you is confidential.”

“I’m not a talker,” Mac said. This I knew to be true.

“If you get a note under the office door, call me
immediately and tell me what it says. It doesn’t matter if it makes sense.”

“How much are you paying for the info?” Fab asked.

“It was a bargain. Returning Kitty before Miss January wakes
up is a win-win all around. Best case, she won’t remember that Kitty ever went
missing,” I said.

“All that matters is that I don’t have to listen to any more
crying,” Mac said, fastening her hair with a racecar clip.

“I’m going to make it up to you. Next Thursday, I’ve planned
a girls’ night out. It’s all arranged, so be at my house by five o’clock. It’ll
be fun,” I said.

“Where’s my invite?” Fab asked.

“Please, there is no girls’ night without you. Mother’s
coming, she’s bringing cigars. And I’m asking Julie. Since she’s marrying Brad
we need to get to know her better.”

“Married?” Mac shrieked. “It’s not fair! I’m always the last
to know every damn thing.”

“Hey, I didn’t know and I’m the alternate daughter,” Fab
said.

“Calm down you two. Mother has yet to perfect her shotgun
wedding plans. Brad and Julie better be careful; Mother’s eager for
grandchildren. You should have seen her trying out ‘Grandma’ v ‘Grandmother’
with Liam.”

“Five bucks says she comes up with something else to call
herself,” Fab said.

“Sucker bet is what I call that.” I laughed. “We’ll see you
later,” I told Mac. I opened my door and called to her, “It’s not ‘if’ anymore,
it’s ‘when’ the dirt hits the fan, call me.”

“Next stop, Kyle’s house,” Fab said, pulling out of the
driveway.

“I changed my mind. This message needs to be delivered by a
man. You know men never take it well when threatened by women.”

“Who’s your man for the job?”

I picked up my cell and hit a speed dial. The call was
picked up on the first ring. “Do you ever loan the bald twins out?”

“What now?” Spoon asked.

“Kyle, a kid in the neighborhood, is terrorizing Miss
January and her cat.”

“Is it still dead? And I’m not kicking the crap out of a
kid.” 

“I want the bald ones to pay a visit to Kyle’s dad. They
need to make it clear he’s to keep his kid away from The Cottages. No bodily
harm, shear mean-ass intimidation. Kyle can’t even walk by; he can go the long
way around.”

“You’re running up quite a tab with me,” Spoon said.

“I figure we’re even because I haven’t ratted out to my
brother the exact nature of your relationship with Mother.”

He hung up laughing.

Fab floated in the pool on a raft, with Jazz asleep on one
of the chaises. Now I had someone to complain to about my day. I raced upstairs
and changed into my bathing suit. On my way back through the kitchen, I grabbed
a bamboo tray, my new flamingo shaped pitcher filled with mango iced tea,
matching glasses, and a bucket of ice and headed out to the patio.

“I’ll have a glass,” Fab told me.

I picked up the pitcher and my phone rang. “Now what?” I
looked at Fab, then at the caller ID. “It’s Brick.”

“I’d say don’t answer but...”

“Took you long enough to answer,” Brick said.

“If you called to pick a bitch fight, this is a good day for
one.”

Brick snorted. “Next time, maybe. I want you in my office
tomorrow morning; I’ve got a job for you.”

Fab ditched her raft and swam over to listen in.

“Does this involve dead people?” I asked.

“If you want your license, you have to put in the hours. I’m
not just signing off.”

“If this was a legitimate job, you’d have called Fab first.”
I made a face at her.

“You women drive me crazy. It’s a simple delivery job.”
Brick hung up.

“He demanded I show up in his office in the morning,” I told
Fab.

“He does that. What kind of job?”

“Delivery job that doesn’t involve dead people.”

“I guess I’ll be calling your mother.” Fab jumped back in
the water. “One more day of following that damn delivery truck up the turnpike
is going to drive me nuts. I could make the drive in my sleep.”

“Just promise Mother won’t get hurt.”

“What about me?”

       This was the first time I’d been back to Brick’s car
lot since the shooting. From where I stood in the parking lot, I could see him
sitting at his desk on the second floor. In the reception area, a small boy ran
around, screaming at the top of his lungs. The sound reverberated off the walls
and made my ears hurt.

       “You can go on up.” Bitsy, the bubbly and charming
receptionist, waved to me, flipping her long blond hair from side to side. Her
royal blue dress was mind numbingly bright and cut so low that, if she sneezed,
her nipples might fall out. Brick said the customers loved her, which I took to
mean the male ones.

       Brick told me he deliberately bought butt-numbing
chairs, so people wouldn’t stay long. The average customer never saw the inside
of his office. I sat down opposite him, waiting impatiently for him to get off
the phone.

“She’s here,” he said and hung up. “I didn’t think you’d
show.”

“What’s the job?”

Brick hit the intercom button. “Send Alejandro up here.” He
looked at me. “I need you to deliver my nephew to his grandmother’s house in
Pass-a-Grille.”

The little screamer raced in, and slid across the floor,
landing in front of Brick in one piece.

“This is Alejandro, my brother Casio’s son. This is Miss
Madison.”

I had died and gone to hell.

He turned and stuck his tongue out. He appeared to be seven
to eight years old, and not a single doubt he was chock full of Famosa DNA.

“Say hello, Alex,” Brick coaxed.

The kid looked me over in the same disrespectful way his
father would have if he were here. “Hello!” Alex yelled.

“Alex is in the yelling everything stage, likes the way it
sounds, wants to make sure he’s heard. He has two older brothers,” Brick said. 

“Where am I going again? I’ve never heard of the place.”

Alex rolled his eyes, the ‘she’s stupid’ look on his face. 

“The Pass is at the southern tip of St. Pete beach. The old
Don Cesar Hotel marks the starting point and dead ends at the water, so you
can’t get lost. Take the interstate over the Sunshine Skyway Bridge, hang a
left, you’re almost there,” Brick said.

I knew the Sunshine Bridge. It climbed to over four hundred
feet and then straight back down, like a nauseating roller coaster ride. When
they replaced the old bridge, the designers wanted to make sure there wasn’t
another major boating disaster like when, years back, a freighter hit a support
column in a storm killing thirty-five people. It was far better to be the
driver going over the bridge and have to pay attention to the road, since the
passenger seat view made one wonder if they were about to die.

“St. Pete? You didn’t say anything about this being an
overnight trip. I’m not prepared.”

“Round trip is doable or you can stay overnight. I’ll pay
whatever it takes,” Brick said. “Are you ready?” He picked Alex up off the
floor, tossed him in the air, making him laugh, and grabbed a suitcase on the
way out of his office.

Brick stopped at the reception desk, and grabbed a manila
envelope. “The address, directions, and cash are in here. You can reach me on
my cell.”

Note to self: Bill Brick triple.

A well-dressed thug appeared out of nowhere. I’d heard Brick
hired bodyguards. He grabbed up the car seat and installed it in my back seat
in two seconds. He must have kids at home. “Alex doesn’t meet the weight
requirement so, for his safety, he rides in the car seat.”

“Now I know why you didn’t call Fab.” I glared at Brick.

“You need anything, call me,” Brick said. “Alex has his DVD
player. He’ll watch movies, and you’ll never know he’s seated behind you.”

“Bye, Uncle Brick!” Alex yelled out the window and waved.

I exited the parking lot. “Are you excited to be going to
your grandmother’s?”

“I’m busy,” he replied and stuck out his tongue.

I looked in my mirror and he stared out the side window.

As soon as I hit the Tamiami Trail, on went the DVD player
and he started yelling dialogue at the screen.

“Alex, can you yell quieter?” I knew it sounded ridiculous
but it was better than ‘shut up.’

He totally ignored me, so I turned on the radio.

“Turn that off, I can’t hear!”

“Alex, I can’t drive with you screaming.” Thank goodness,
traffic was light. I held my foot steady at just over the speed limit.

“You can call me Mr. Famosa!” he yelled.

I reached into my glove box and pulled out my aspirin
bottle.

“You take drugs,” Alex accused.

“If you’d stop screaming I wouldn’t need aspirin.”

“I’m telling.” He shook his finger.

I ignored him and concentrated on driving as fast as I could
without being reckless. Not long after we made the turn onto the interstate, he
got out of his car seat and jumped into the cargo area.

“You know you have to ride in the car seat. Please get back
in.”

“No and, if you try and make me, I’ll tell my dad you hit
me.”

I cut to the right and just made the off ramp. I reached for
my phone and listened to Brick’s number ring; no pick up as promised. Bitsy
answered the direct number to the dealership and told me he wouldn’t be in all
day due to meetings.

“You’re wasting time.” Alex gave me a Cuban hand gesture.
“My grandmother’s going to smack you.”

I pulled to the side of the road on the off ramp, and jumped
out of my SUV. I yelled in the window, “Get in your car seat now or I’ll drag
you by the hair and put you in it myself.”

“Shut up!” he yelled back, sticking his fingers in his ears.

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I jerked open the rear
door.

As I reached for him, he crawled over the back seat and got
back in his car seat.

I breathed a sigh of relief, slamming the door.

It only took a few miles down the interstate before he was
out of his seat again. I looked in my mirror and watched as he crawled into the
cargo area, this time staring out the back window, moving his arm up and down,
trying to get truck drivers to honk. “Get back in your seat or I’m pulling off
again and you can explain to your grandmother why we’re late.”

Alex unlatched the back window and hung half way out,
yelling and waving at passenger cars.

“Get your ass back in the car!” I slowed, intending to make
the next exit, with one eye on Alex to make sure he didn’t fall out the back
window. Sirens blared. I looked in my rearview and the cops were in pursuit of
me.