Trouble in Paradise (25 page)

“Get out of his crappy ride and I’ll help you in the house.”
Fab held her hand out, helping me out of his SUV. “Didier drives faster than I
do.”

No love between these two. Fab had been a person of interest
in one of Harder’s cases and she successfully eluded him until the case was
solved. “Would you like to come in, detective?” I asked.

“No he would not. Don’t exploit her injuries.” Fab stared
coldly at Harder.

“Thank you for asking. I’ll be in touch. Watch your back
until we get Barbie into custody.” Harder flashed his dog smile. “I look
forward to the day when I can arrest you, Miss Merceau.”

I grabbed Fab’s hand just as she bent her elbow. “Don’t give
him the finger.”

Fab, to my surprise, didn’t kick Harder’s door closed. “Zach
called but claimed not to know very much. I want to hear every word.” We walked
into the house together.

“Promise if anything ever happens to me, you’ll take care of
Jazz. He already loves you.”

“Stop with that,” Fab said. “I would’ve tracked down that
dirtbag, he wouldn’t have died for days. I’ll help you upstairs.”

“The couch is fine and I want my Beretta to shove under the
cushions just in case.” I was beyond grateful to be home, holding Jazz.

The sun shone brightly through the bedroom window. I stacked
several pillows up against the headboard, and leaned back, so I could see all
of my tropical flowers down below. Jazz lay next to me.           

Fab opened the door. “Are you going to come out of your
bedroom?”

“I feel safe up here. I keep reliving that moment when I
reached for my gun, Kibble kicked it out of my hand and, in slow motion, it
slid under the dryer, out of reach.”

Fab sat on the bed. “Reality check: you’re at a big
disadvantage if someone is planning to kill you and you don’t get a heads up.
You can’t walk around with a gun in your hand all day.”

“I’ve been thinking. Don’t roll your eyes at me. Thanks for
offering to kill Kibble in the slowest possible way. I can’t promise to torture
someone on your behalf but I have connections.”

Fab laughed. “Anyone ever tell you you’re crazy?”

“Not as much, since word has gotten around that I pack and
not afraid to pull the trigger.”

“Your house is full of family, and folks close enough to be
family. It’s my job to get you to come downstairs. You can’t make me look bad.”
Fab opened my closet and pulled out one of favorite tropical print skirts, and
a green t-shirt, laying them on the bed. “Party time.”

“Mother is rubbing off on you.” I had ignored everyone for a
week; time to get over being scared of a dead man.

“You’ve got people cluttering up the place. The sooner you
make an appearance, the sooner they get the hell out. Madeline said you’re to
come downstairs and have a good time or at least put on one hell of an act.”

“Tell them I have something contagious.” I coughed and
sniffed.

“That’s so lame and beneath your story telling skills. You
need to bite the hair of the dog. Besides I need your P. I. Jane skills on a
new case.”

I got out of bed and exchanged sweat pants for the clothes
Fab picked out. “Now that’s a big fat lie unless it has to do with dead people
or pets. We don’t even have a name for our business,” I said.

“The hell with that; we have a card.” Fab pulled one out of
her pocket. “I need you to be the lookout. Another car retrieval job.”

“Those are fun. I like legal auto theft, even though we’re
one for two.” I paused. “Wait, is this another Brick job?” Fab’s face said that
it was. “Ok, on one condition.”

“Now who needs lessons in friendship?” Fab’s hands on her
hips. “What?”

“Teach me to hotwire a car.”

Fab shook her head. “I’m more afraid of Madeline than you,
so no and no.”

“We’ll see,” I said smugly. “Who else are you going to get
to help you on this job of yours?”

“Put on your happy face and let’s go mingle.”

From the top of the stairs I surveyed the crowd of people in
my living room. Mother had thrown an impromptu get together without telling me.
When the doorbell started ringing earlier, Fab was forced to tell me what
Mother had planned. I spotted a pitcher of margaritas and from where I stood, I
had an unobstructed path to the bar.

Creole and Zach stood on the far side of the room together
and waved. “I’ve been unsociable for a few days and they become friends again?”
Zach started towards me as I walked down the stairs.

“Wait until you hear how that happened,” Fab said.

Brad came over and pulled my hair, like he did when we were
kids. “I’d already planned on eating your portion of Mother’s ‘home cooking’
that she’s telling people she slaved over all day.”

We both laughed. Anyone who knew Mother knew she avoided
cooking.

“What restaurant did she call?” I asked.

“Crab Shack. She had me dump the to-go containers before
anyone got here.”

“I run her homemade cookie scam on occasion.”

“Hey, I left a present for you on your desk.” Brad pointed.
“Wrapped it myself. But open it later.”

“I like presents,” I said before kissing Brad’s cheek. “So
I’m skipping the part, ‘oh you shouldn’t have.’”

Liam ran over and hugged me, Julie on his heels. “Love you,”
he said. “I never liked Kibble.”

“Back at you. Your ‘I miss you’ card was great; loved the
pics and jokes.”

“Let’s do a girl lunch soon, preferably not at the funeral
home,” Julie said.

Zach leaned in and kissed me. “Date night this week?”

“As long as it’s not Banjoes.” We laughed. “Did the twin
thug, Booger or whatever his name was, croak?”

“Douglas Lewis has departed for the great beyond. The twins’
mother, in her grief, shot up the family trailer and got herself arrested for a
cache of firearms that included a couple dozen illegal automatic A-K 47s,” Zach
said.    

Creole appeared at my side. “There would’ve been no quick
death for Kibble. I would’ve arranged for years of torment everyday he sat in
prison waiting for Old Sparky. With any luck, before he died his hair would’ve
caught fire and his fingers would’ve burned off.”

Old Sparky was Florida’s first choice of execution. It had a
reputation of malfunction, namely six to twelve-inch flames shooting out some
prisoners’ heads. On occasion it took two or three flips of the switch for the
person to die. Florida, against their wishes, had been forced to upgrade and to
offer another option.

“I hope you two didn’t get into a fist fight and I missed
it,” I said to Creole and Zach.

“Why don’t you ask your mother?” Zach said.

“If she ambushed you two and got you to kiss and make up,
then I’m happy. You two were worse than girls.”

“I never did get a thank you,” Mother said, coming up behind
them.

“You,” Creole emphasized, pointing at Mother, “called and
said you had a prowler. Even though I was in the area, I called in Coral Gables
police as backup. You could’ve gone to jail.” Creole looked more amused than Zach.

“Not my fault the prowler dude left right before you got
there,” Mother said.

I covered my face and laughed. “Good for you, Mother,
getting them together and forcing them to talk.” I never understood why Creole
didn’t want to tell his childhood buddy that he was a cop.

“I’d come visit you in jail,” Liam said to Mother.

“Nice. You’re a great influence, Mother,” Brad snorted.

Julie bumped Liam’s shoulder. “Kids can’t go visit the jail.

“I asked Joseph and he said there’s no age restriction to
visit criminals,” Liam said. “But you do have to actually know them, not just
some random person.”

“Madeline, I noticed you left out the part where you pointed
a gun and dared us to move,” Zach said.

“You rock, Mother,” I said as I put my arm around her.

Mother clapped her hands. “All right everyone, food is ready
in the kitchen.”

“Talked to Harder,” Creole said, sidling up next to me.
“Barbie’s sitting in jail on murder charges, on a one million dollar bond.”

We hung back, it wasn’t like we’d ever run out of food. Mother
over ordered every time. “Good riddance.” I can’t imagine a jury being
sympathetic to her. “Since neither of the Shiners showed for the eviction
hearing, they’re out. I’ll have Mac get their belongings packed and moved to
storage.”

Zach grabbed a beer and joined us. “Angie took care of that
already.” He brushed the palms of his hands together. “Their stuff is gone, Mac
had the placed cleaned and she told me she already rented to a ‘lovely European
couple’ for three months.”

“Did anyone ever question Angie about what she knew about
Cosmo’s death?” I asked.

“Harder had the sheriff wait until she left the property by
herself, then had her picked up a couple of blocks away and brought into
custody,” Creole said. “The first mention of Cosmo’s name and she started
crying. Turns out she loved him. She only friended Barbie because of Kibble
Junior. When Big Kibble went out fishing, Barbie turned over the complete care
of the baby to Angie. Told Harder she couldn’t have children and wasn’t passing
up the chance to mother Kibble Junior. Based on what she told Harder, Barbie
used her as a nanny-maid.”

The three of us were the last at the kitchen island. I
wanted to stand there and pick at the food but I got a plate like everyone
else.

“When the arrest warrant got issued, Angie tipped Harder on
Barbie’s hiding place. Angie claimed not to know anything about Barbie’s
involvement in Cosmo’s death and Harder believed her. She cooperated with
Harder for Cosmo’s kids. She handed over Barbie’s diary which detailed every thought
the woman ever had and, once the arrest warrant got issued, Angie tipped Harder
that Barbie had signed on as a cook on The Dreamer. She was taken into custody
before the boat left the dock. In exchange, Harder helped Angie find a new
place to live.” Creole filled his plate.

Brad came into the kitchen to grab drinks, and heard what
Creole had to say. “The Shiners had a volatile relationship,” he said. “Barbie
would stir up trouble while Kibble was out fishing. When he docked she’d give
him a list of the people for him to go kick their asses.”

We took our plates into the living room; one could sit at
the table or grab a chair placed around the room. Mother handed me a 7-Up with
a cherry, like she did when I’d get sick as a kid. She took good care of me and,
no matter how old I got, I’d always want my mother in a crisis.

“What happened to Kibble Junior?” I asked, juggling my plate
on my lap.

“Angie tried to claim the kid as her own,” Creole said.

“Is the boy in foster care?” Mother asked.

“Child Services stepped in and located Barbie’s parents in
Minnesota. They flew in and claimed their grandchild. Barbie freaked out,
swearing they were unfit, and said they abused her as a child,” Creole told us.

“I can’t believe Harder gave you all this information,” I said.

“He didn’t. My boss muscled his way in and got access to the
file.” Creole got up and returned with beer for him, Zach and Brad.

“Turns out,” Creole continued, “Barbie has a seven-year-old
son. Her parents have full custody of the boy. When interviewed, he’s happy,
well adjusted, doing well in school and never in trouble. Report came back that
they’re as close to a Norman Rockwell painting as you’re going to get these
days.”

“Is Kibble the father?” Mother asked.

“No, but bio father’s a dirtball, and not on the scene,”
Creole said. “He’s in prison on a drug running conviction. Barbie gave up
custody of the kid when he was a baby, due to her substance abuse problems. The
only memories the boy has of her, is her attempt to regain custody a couple of
years ago. She lost that court case because, first, she never maintained
regular contact of any kind and, the few times she had visitation, she scared
the kid with a taste of her volatile personality and the last thing he wanted
was to move to Florida to live with a psycho.”

“When did the two of you start hugging?” Zach asked me.

Fab had put her arm around me. “If anything happens to me, I
want Fab to stay here with Jazz for as long as she wants,” I said. After what
happened I realized I needed a plan for my cat.

No one said a word.

“You’ll outlive that damn cat,” Mother said. Then turning to
the others, she said, “I spent all day in the kitchen, I expect everyone to eat
until you’re stuffed.”

“By the way, Veta Lindsay is gone,” Zach said. 

“I’m surprised she actually moved,” I said.

Julie and Brad started taking plates to the kitchen. They
looked like a good fit, I was happy for my brother. 

Zach finished his beer. “I told Veta I’d never hit a woman,
but Madeline was a different story. Once your Mother heard that Veta ignored
your screams, the fact that she was older wouldn’t factor into Madeline’s
decision to throw the first punch.”

“If I had known, I’d have dragged her off the property by
that ugly bun of hers,” Mother said and flexed her arm.

“You would’ve come and got me first, wouldn’t you?” Liam
asked. “So I could watch.”

“You’d be the reason I’d exercise some self-control.” Mother
kissed his cheek.

“Too many cop shows for Veta. She went around town, made up
crap about you, told people you were a police and FBI informant. She spread the
word to every dock rat that you were behind every arrest or someone stubbing
their toe,” Zach said in disgust.

“I’m going to miss Joseph,” I said.

“Veta told me you were upset when Joseph broke up with you
and you wouldn’t stop coming around,” Liam said. “It’s hard to believe you’d
date him.”

I choked on my last bite of shrimp. “I never did and never
would.”

Zach bit his lip. We both knew that, before Veta, Joseph
spread the word around town we were “friendly.”