Trouble in Paradise (5 page)

“Why would your neighbors take the dog?” I asked.

“They want to buy the southwest section of my property and
it’s not for sale. Four young hooligans, up to no good, harassing the neighbors,
shooting parrots and the next thing you know Grover disappears.”

“What do they drive?” Tolbert had driven up in an old Ford
pickup in pristine condition.

“Two beat-up pickup trucks; blue one has a back seat, hauls
around the four of them, red truck holds two people.”

“If you got Grover back, how would you keep him safe?” Fab
asked.

“No more running around the property by himself that’s for
sure. It’s been months and not a single sighting. Do you think one of those
dogs you mentioned could be Grover?”

Sadness washed over me. I didn’t want to give Grover to
anyone, but I’d never keep another man’s dog, if he were a good pet owner.
“Possibly.”

“Why should we help you?” Fab asked.

“My grandchildren live with me and love Grover. My
granddaughter can sit for hours, throwing his ball for him to fetch until he is
exhausted. It’s all been just too much for the little ones. Their dad died and
then the dog disappeared.” Tolbert looked tired, character wrinkles etched deeply
in his forehead. “My son passed recently.”

Then it dawned on me. “Are you Cosmo Rich’s father?” I
asked.

“Did you know my son?”

“No but he was good friends with my brother, Brad Westin.
Cosmo was a semi-regular crew member on Brad’s fishing boat. I couldn’t make
the funeral but Brad and my mother were there. What’s happening on Cosmo’s
case?”

Fab kicked me under the table.

“The sheriff seems uninterested. All I ever hear is they’re
still investigating. They were plenty interested when the news cameras were
around.”

“I’ll check around about Grover but how do I know your home
would be better?” I downed the last of my latte.

“Come to my farm later. Check it out.”

“Tomorrow would be better,” I said. “If I don’t like what I
see, I won’t help you.”

He looked disappointed but nodded his head.

Grover bounded into the kitchen. Fab was awake and that
meant people-food. “Who was on the phone?” she asked.

“I’m surprised you weren’t listening.”

“I got part of it but I came downstairs too late to hear the
whole conversation.” Fab tossed a piece of bologna at Grover’s feet.

I’d wondered what the meat was for when it appeared in the
refrigerator. 

“Cece, at the title company, returned my call with property
owner info for Tolbert and his neighbor, Mr. Iver. I already called and
introduced myself.”

Jazz meowed at Fab’s feet. She tossed him a piece of mystery
meat, he sniffed and walked away.

“Intro’d as in lied to him? You’re going to hell.”

“I feel comforted knowing we’ll be hanging together in the
afterlife.” I made a face at her. “Mr. Iver told me that a few months back he
rented to a Boyd Lincoln and his brother. About two months in, they stopped
paying.”

“It never fails to amaze me that you can get people to spill
their life story by just saying ‘Hi.’ He told you all of this on the phone?” Fab
sniffed.

“There’s more. Then came the ‘all cash’ offer for the
property. That scared Mr. Iver. He figured they were doing something illegal,
and rejected the offer. The second he began eviction proceedings, the threats
started, none too subtle either. Boyd bashed in the windshield of Mr. Iver’s
car while he sat behind the wheel.”

Fab poured herself another cup of the black mud she called
coffee. “Cash for the purchase of a house. I smell drugs.”

“Terms of the deal: swap a deed for a big bag of hundreds.”

“Let’s blow up the house, and then they’re forced to move.”

“That’s a really bad idea.” I picked up my cell. “You know I
hate that,” I said, pointing to Jazz, recently placed on the counter by Fab.

“Don’t make me shoot you.” Fab stared. Slice answered on the
second ring. “What can I do for you, Madison?” Zach had made Slice on loan to
me on those occasions I needed a frightening, scary fixer.

“I need movers to go down to Pigeon Key and evict four
redneck thugs, possible drug dealers, ASAP. It needs to be made clear that
they’re not welcome anywhere in the one-hundred-ten mile stretch of the Keys.”

“You’re stacking up the IOUs. One won’t be sufficient for
this job. And double if I have to kill one of them.”

“Do you need me to give you a written note for your boss?” I
didn’t abuse the relationship by asking Slice to keep secrets from Zach.

“Trouble maker.” Slice laughed. “My presence in your fiascos
gives him peace of mind.”

“You’re the best.”

“Stop with the schmooze or I’ll change my mind. By this afternoon,
your friends will be long gone or appetizers for the alligators,” Slice
assured.

“Do you want the back-story?”

“I’ll get it for myself. I’m good at extracting details.
Heads up, the boss listened to most of this conversation before he got called
into a meeting, so expect an interrogation.”

“Don’t worry; I know the best time to bring up ‘guess what’s
new’ items.”

Slice hung up laughing.

“Warn me when Zach finds out we’re asking questions about
the Cosmo Rich murder,” Fab said. “He’ll blame me with the ‘you’re a bad
influence’ lecture.”

“I haven’t asked a single question.”

“Yet. And let me know when your family finds out. I want to
be there for the fireworks. Does this have anything to do with the investigator
application?” Fab asked.

“You reading my mail again?” Fab was nosey; most of the time
it didn’t bother me.

“Does Zach know?”

“Of course not. He’s still getting used to the idea of my
having a concealed permit.”

Fab shook her finger at me. “You be the one to tell him.
Don’t let him find out from someone else.”

Fab drove my SUV because it was easier than listening to her
complain about my slow driving. I dug my fingers into the armrest, as she
barely braked for stop signs. Grover paced around, sticking his head out the
open back window, barking at the passing cars. Quiet most other times, in the
car, the dog was a barking fool.

“It’s not too late to turn around. We’ll tell Tolbert to go
get a dog from the pound,” Fab said.

“In college, a friend got a one year internship, and asked
me to take care of his cat. Nine months later, he showed up wanting ‘Cat’ back.
I told him too late, we’d bonded, go to the pound, get a twin, and give it the
same ridiculous name. He never spoke to me again. Instead of a cat, he got a
pit bull.” I dreaded my meeting with Tolbert. “Who knew I’d be any good at dog
ownership? Sure caught me by surprise.”

“Animal or person that comes to your house, you take good
care of them. My guess is Tolbert might share.” Grover had moved behind Fab,
hanging his head out her window. Somehow, when she snapped her fingers, he
stopped barking and didn’t blow her off like he did me.

“Pigeon Key is a far drive for dog visitation. I hope Jazz
is going to be okay with the loss of his bed.”

“When are you going to mention to Zach that Creole stops by
the house whenever he pleases? I’d like to be there.”

“Creole’s on a case right now and, besides, he spends more
time with Mother. She fills the Elizabeth void for him. I know she loves the
extra attention.” I stared out the window, enjoying the unobstructed view of
the turquoise-colored Gulf waters on one side and the crystal blue Atlantic on
the other. “Zach and I are getting along good these days, once I promised less
drama.”

“Zach needs to calm down. He’s a lot nicer since the two of
you got together. He actually laughs once in a while, better than the humorless
bastard he used to be. How are you going to keep your promise, now that you
want a PI license?”

“I weaseled out of an answer. I almost asked him if I could
do what I want and he could stop by for sex. He did ask me out for margaritas
and bowling, but that got canceled at the last minute.”

We turned off the Overseas Highway. Fab braked hard right,
swinging down the dirt road, bouncing over the gravel. “What’s this place?” Fab
pointed to the arch overhead that read “Wild Bird Farm.” Brightly-colored
green, black hooded wild parrots packed the cement overhang. Turning down the
long driveway, there were several hundred of them in the palm trees that dotted
the drive and across the electric lines. 

Grover stopped window hopping and barked excitedly. When I
opened the door, he took a flying leap, running straight to Tolbert. Grover
stood on his hind legs and licked his face. Tolbert hugged him back, almost
losing his footing.

“Looks like Grover’s made it official,” I said, squeezing my
eyes closed, adjusting my sunglasses.

Tolbert waved. “I have iced tea up on the porch.” The old
spacious plantation style home sat on several acres with an abundance of hundred-year-old
oak trees, weeping willows and a large pond towards the back of the property.
The house, with its white chipped paint, had a certain elegance, and a wide
veranda that ran the entire front.

“Do not let me cry,” I said to Fab. “Instinctively, I knew
Grover was Tolbert’s dog but I hoped.”

Old white wicker furniture, piled with faded pillows that
had once blasted a rainbow of color, filled the porch. On one of the chairs
slept two extremely fat white cats. An old wicker tray on the table held a
pitcher of tea, and several glasses with ice already in them, small bowls
filled with brown sugar cubes and lemon slices.

“You brought him back,” Tolbert said, tears in his eyes.
“Where did you find him and where’s he been? I want to thank whoever took care
of him. He looks, well, heemahortis.”

“What does that mean?” Fab asked.

“I made it up. When I can’t think of the right word, I use
the word with authority and no one questions me.” Tolbert said with a laugh.         

I told him about rescuing Grover and that he’d been living
with me and a cat named Jazz.

Tolbert filled the glasses with tea and handed one to Fab
and me, when gunshots rang out, coming from the direction of Boyd Lincoln’s
place. He jumped up. “I’ll call the sheriff.”

“Hold on,” I told him. “Nothing to worry about. It’s moving
day next door.”

“Let’s not involve the sheriff,” Fab said. “The movers will
handle everything and then you won’t have to worry about Grover going outside.”

“I really should call…,” Tolbert said.

“Sit, get comfortable.” I motioned. “Tell us about Cosmo.”

“Cosmo was a live-wire, quick tempered, but just as quick to
laugh. He worked hard, played hard, he drank, but never did drugs his entire
life. A family man with a fierce love for his kids. They idolized him, he made
their lives an adventure. They’re at school now; I’m hoping you’ll visit often
so I can introduce you. I’m trying to fill the void but I’m not near as much
fun.” Tolbert smiled while talking about his son and grandchildren.

“My father died when I was a pre-teen. It took a while, but
my mother brought our family even closer,” I told him. “Did you live here
together before the shooting? Familiarity will give them security.”

“The kids were born here. I wish I had all my questions
answered so that when they get older I can answer theirs. For now, I’ve told
them their dad’s in heaven and that’s a comfort to us all.” Tolbert poured more
ice tea.

“Did they determine the cause of death?”  Fab asked.

“Officially he drowned, but no one is talking to me. The
detective told me the case was being investigated as a possible homicide. I
asked him why and he said Cosmo had broken bones inconsistent with just
drowning. They’re waiting on test results.”

“Tell us what happened that day,” Fab said.

“His regular boat was sidelined for repairs, so he signed on
for a short grouper run with another captain. Said he’d call me with the
information and I never heard from him again. I assumed he got busy, and I’d
see him in a week. Instead, the sheriff called that his battered body had
washed up on shore. He’d been dead, floating in the water for several days.”

“Did the sheriff locate the boat he signed on to?” I asked.

“They told me, the Sea Hag. When questioned, the captain
said he never showed.”

“This all sounds personal to me,” Fab said. “We can ask
around.”

“Did Cosmo have any enemies?” I asked.

Tolbert picked up the pitcher and his hand shook. “The only
person he didn’t get along with was his girlfriend Darla, mother of his
children. She wouldn’t hurt him; the checks would stop coming if he wasn’t
around. Cosmo had a handful of friends, but told me once in his line of work
most of the men weren’t trustworthy.”

“That’s why my brother likes to crew with the same men. Tell
us about Darla,” I said.

“She’s a drunken mess. Chaos follows wherever she goes.
Darla showed up yesterday and took the kids without my knowing, and only called
after she cleared the driveway. The kids made her life miserable. Darla slapped
Ethan, the youngest and Kristen screamed bloody murder until Darla agreed to
bring them back home. I was so relieved when the kids ran through the door. I
threw money at her and she left.”

“You need a good lawyer to make sure that doesn’t happen
again,” I said. “I know one that will help you in exchange for a favor or two.
And he’s good.”

“Who drives the church bus?” Fab pointed to the side of the
house at an old school bus, which was painted a patriotic red, white, and blue.
The overly large magnetic sign on the side read, “Church of the Traveling
Jesus.”

“I do,” Tolbert said. “On Sundays, I drive the bus, and try
for an uplifting, feel good sermon and lunch afterwards.”

“We should be calling you Pastor Rich,” I said.

“Only on Sundays, the rest of the week it’s Tolbert.”