Overdose in Paradise

by Deborah Brown

  Once again, Billy had the gate rolled back when we got there, and Fab pulled in and parked.

  “You on gate duty?” I asked as I got out.

  “If it’s about you two, I’m the man.” He grinned. “Heard you were asking about…” He nodded to a twenty-foot-long aluminum storage shed at the far end of the property. “It doesn’t shock me that you might be the ones with the missing piece of the puzzle.”

  Fab and I headed to Spoon’s office and seated ourselves in front of his desk.

  “You want to go first?” I said cheekily and got a grunt in response. Guess not. “This is what I know. Brick Famosa—”

  Spoon growled at the mention of the man’s name.

  “—normally hires Fab, but this time went behind her back and called Toady directly. Brick thinks Fab is preggo and therefore unavailable.” Spoon’s brow shot up. “Long story, but she’s not. So today…” I relayed that Toady knew Spoon had possession of the cars and wanted to make a deal.

  “Just so you know, I had nothing to do with the acquisition,” Spoon huffed. “One of my guys did a favor for a friend, who said that he needed a place to park the cars, as he’d arrived early for an auction and had no place to store them. It was supposed to only be a couple of days. My guy confessed to taking money on the side and I knew why he needed the cash, so I let it pass but told him there better not be a next time because he smelled illegal just coming down the block.”

  “The friend is Brick’s driver?” I asked.

  “Didn’t know that ass was involved until just now. Dude didn’t show up when he said, and he hasn’t turned up anywhere. No missing person report, and even more interesting, no police report on the cars.” Spoon flicked through a pad and turned it in our direction. “The cars are registered to a holding company.”

  “Sounds like something Brick would put together,” Fab said. “It wouldn’t be the first, or twentieth, job where a client steals from him and he refuses to involve law enforcement.”

  Spoon’s fist pounded the desk. “I don’t want either of you any more involved than you already are.” He jabbed his finger at me. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me.”

  “What do you want in return for giving them up?” Fab asked.

  “I want the red Corvette with the black ragtop at a damn good price. But only if the driver shows back up alive. If not… I’m calling the cops. Another stipulation: Toady handles the negotiations and he doesn’t reveal names. Yours, mine, anyone’s. Or I’ll give the old alligator a taste of his own methods and feed him to his neighbors. Along with Brick, if he’s stupid enough to show up here or send some lackey.”

  “In the spirit of full disclosure, I’m charging a fee for my services in facilitating getting the parties together. I’m charging double, so I can split it with Fab,” I said. “I can deal with Toady.”

  “Send him to me so I can make sure we’re copacetic,” Spoon barked. “That way, there’s no mistaking the terms.

  “Have time now?” Fab asked. “He’s down the street.”

  “You do that, and then you should leave. You already know too much.” Spoon leaned back in his chair, eyeing the two of us.

  Yay! I was ready to go home and sit out on the deck.

  We passed Toady on the way out of the driveway. He clearly wasn’t happy to see us bailing on him.

  “The one to worry about is Toady. Brick isn’t going to take this well, with all the anonymity that’s being insisted on.”

  I sighed. “You tell him not to put himself in any kind of danger.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  A ‘Grand Opening’ banner hung across the road as Creole turned the corner. Parking had become an issue as soon as we found out that the building code required a certain number of spaces be made available for customers. Didier had approached the owners of the lots across the street, which would make an ideal location. One man told him to “blow off,” as did the rest of them, only in politer terms. Seeing an opportunity, they’d paved their land themselves and turned it into metered parking, storage for boats, and a mini-RV park. It went together so fast that it was the consensus of our group that they had stellar connections and the plans were already in the works. Hats off to the old guys; they took the idea and ran with it.

  “What’s the update on the car case?” Didier asked.

  “That criminal, Brick, is lucky they weren’t ditched on my property. I’d have turned it all over to the cops and let him explain why he didn’t file a police report,” Creole grouched.

  “Last I heard, Toady commented that it takes ‘intestinal fortitude’ to be the go-between for Brick and Spoon,” I said.

  A big sigh came from the back seat. Fab had declined to drive, instead wanting to snuggle up with Didier. “Brick is hopping mad about the fee for finding the whereabouts of said cars and has haggled on the price for the Vette, wanting top dollar. Toady finally told Brick, ‘You got two days to wind this up or the cars disappear.’”

  “It shocks me that Spoon would threaten that. I’d think he’d enjoy having Brick twisting on a string,” I said.

  “Toady made it up. I can’t say exactly what he said—no way to clean it up—but he’s over the case and ready for the next one,” Fab said. “Here’s a good tidbit—Brick threatened to have Toady killed. He thinks that Toady is somehow behind the ‘screwing’ he’s taking.”

  “I bet Toady didn’t take that well.”

  “Told Brick to go ahead and went on to describe in precise terms how Brick would die if he did, and that he had associates who would definitely make it happen, all the while cleaning his nails with a switchblade,” Fab said. “I called Brick and told him nothing better happen to Toady. He blew it off, saying Toady’s a sissy and doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

  I harrumphed. “Call Toady a sissy to his face and you’ll end up choking on your teeth.”

  Creole parked in one of the five reserved spaces. Even though the stores and stands didn’t open for another fifteen minutes, the lot across the street was at least half-full and many more had found on-street parking and were headed to the Boardwalk.

  “Creole and I need to do a quick walk-thru,” Didier said. “You two are welcome to come along,” he said to Fab and me.

  “I think we should go be good customers and check out the stores.” I tugged on Fab’s arm.

  Fab and I split off from the guys and went in the opposite direction. We walked around the area and were impressed that, although it wasn’t Disneyland, Didier had done a good job of melding retail, greasy food wagons, one restaurant completed and more to come, and a small boutique hotel. Most of the rides were open, with the exception of the roller coaster. The only one that interested me was the train that ran around the entire property, pointing out the various attractions at a slow speed.

  I had lobbied for an arcade room and a fortuneteller machine that spit out your future on a card. I’d had a hand in selecting the machines, which was one of the most fun projects to give input on. If I’d had my way, I would’ve doubled the space and filled it with more machines. The guys had laughed, but I told them I’d expect apologies for their lack of faith when they started hauling in the money with no room to expand.

  Fab tripped and bumped into me, which caught me off guard. The old woman who’d rammed into her apologized and, at the same time, grabbed the strap of Fab’s purse, yanking it from her shoulder.

  “Come back here,” Fab shouted in a tone that showed she expected obedience. She whistled—a sharp, high pitch—then took off after the woman.

  I was right behind her, wondering what the heck just happened. And on the other hand, impressed. The old girl was pretty agile for her advanced years.

  Fab caught up with the woman, gripped the back of her jacket, and whirled her around, retrieving her purse. The woman ended up in a heap on the cement. Fab reached down and hauled her to her feet.

  I huffed up behind her. “She’s old,” I reminded Fab so she wouldn’t clock her a good one.

  The
old woman glared. In her scrabble to get up, her wig and hat fell to the ground, revealing a boy who appeared to be about fourteen in a floral dress and fishnet stockings.

  Fab twisted her hand in the front of the dress, dragging him face-to-face. “You’re going to jail.”

  Panic filled the kid’s face and he kicked out, connecting with Fab’s leg, which gave him the opportunity to turn and dash down the wharf. He cut around two children fighting with light sticks, weaved and jogged, took a turn around a pretzel-making machine, and disappeared.

  “That kid needs a different gig; he’s terrible at purse snatching,” Fab said, out of breath. “I think his original intent was to help himself to my wallet, but I felt the nudge against my purse. Once caught, he went for Plan B.”

  “What just happened?” Didier asked as he and Creole ran up. “Saw you about to get into a fistfight with a little old lady.”

  “I suppose you two showed up to come to the other woman’s aid?” I asked with a hint of sarcasm.

  Fab hit the highlights and looked ready to beat the two men for their amused expressions.

  “Let’s hope he doesn’t come back.” Didier shook his head. “Pickpocketing won’t be good for business.”

  “Did I hear pickpocket?” Kevin insinuated himself into the conversation. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed him in his full police regalia. “Doesn’t surprise me you two are involved.”

  Creole growled at him. “Too bad you’re in uniform.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Take it however you want,” Creole snapped back.

  I stuck my hand in Creole’s back pocket and gave him a soft pinch. “What can we do for you, officer?”

  “Description would be helpful. We’ve had a couple of reports about missing wallets, and it would help to get this person locked up. The sooner the better.”

  “A woman, seventyish, black hair, ugly hat and dress,” I said.

  Everyone turned and stared, since I’d just told them it was a kid.

  Kevin looked like he wanted to pursue that, but just then, he got called away. “If you think of anything else, you know where to find me.”

  Once he was out of earshot, I said, “It was a kid.”

  Creole turned my face to his. “You’re not going to go looking for him and bring him home, are you? He’s not a cat; he’s a criminal. And what if he hurts someone?”

  “I hear you.”

  “Don’t think I won’t notice if some kid shows up, sleeping on the patio.”

  I shot a pleading look at Fab.

  “Let’s try out the rides,” she suggested, and the four of us turned in that direction.

  “While the rest of you are trying to keep from barfing, I’ll test the miniature golf,” I said.

  “I’m going with my girl,” Creole said. “Let’s meet at the new restaurant for lunch.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next morning, I swung through the drive-thru of Fab’s and my favorite coffee joint and ordered both our favorites, racing back to Fab’s before it got cold. I pulled into her driveway and, because I wasn’t about to relinquish the wheel, laid on the horn. Another perk of not having neighbors.

  The front door flew open and the irate French woman yelled, “What the devil?”

  I was happy that I’d had the foresight to roll down the window so I wouldn’t miss a word.

  “Hurry up and get in,” I yelled back. “Change your clothes. That getup isn’t acceptable for going out in public.” It amused me that she was still in her silk nightgown and not the least bit pulled together.

  “Whatever you’re up to, I’m not going.” She turned and went back inside, slamming the door so hard, I was surprised the glass didn’t break. I laid on the horn again.

  The door opened and she stood there, irritation radiating off her face, arms crossed.

  I leaned across the seat and held up the coffee cup. “Come get it before it gets cold.”

  She flounced over and grabbed it out of my hand. “You honk again, and I’ll shoot your tires out.”

  “Then hustle,” I yelled at her retreating back.

  To my surprise, she was back in under fifteen minutes in jeans and tennis shoes—she’d obviously taken notice of what I had on when she poked her head inside the SUV. It also surprised me that she didn’t utter one complaint about not driving.

  “Where are we going?” Fab pushed the seat back.

  “It’s a surprise,” I said with a lame smile.

  “A perfect morning with my husband and now this.” Fab turned her head to stare out the window.

  I hit the gas and lurched forward, cutting off another car and receiving a blaring horn and sign language from the disgruntled driver. I returned the gesture, knowing the man couldn’t see it through the tinted windows. Checking the rearview mirror, I cut diagonally across the road to make the exit and squealed around the corner.

  “Are you drunk?” Fad asked, aghast.

  “I thought you’d enjoy my driving more if I emulated yours—all fast and scary.” I smiled sweetly.

  She straightened in her seat and glared out the windshield.

  I turned onto the street that ran along the backside of the Boardwalk and pulled into one of the reserved spaces.

  “Nothing’s open. Too early. Except the coffee house, and we just had a cup,” Fab said.

  “I have a hunch I want to follow up on. Our young purse-snatcher disappeared off to the far end and wasn’t seen again, even though security was on alert. I think he’s around here somewhere.”

  “So you find him, then what? You do remember your promise to Creole not more than a few hours ago? If not, I can remind you.”

  “I don’t have any intention of bringing him home.” I got out and shoved the door closed.

  “I’m telling you now that splitting hairs isn’t going to keep you out of trouble, and I should know, since I’ve done that more times than I’m about to admit.”

  “And how does that end for you? Jungle sex?”

  “Not always.” Fab sulked, as though recalling those times.

  “If we find him, I only want to chat. Don’t scuff him up any; puberty’s a hard age.”

  Fab sniffed.

  “We’re going to retrace his getaway. He cut around the pretzel machine and wasn’t seen again. I checked a couple of the construction blueprints last night, and the direction he chose leads to a dead end, the only exit over a chain-link fence. That would’ve been caught on a security camera.”

  “So you think he’s back here somewhere?” Fab scanned the area.

  “Or he made a run for it this morning, but there’d still be a risk of getting caught if he chose the fence route.”

  “Isn’t that him?” Fab pointed to a lone figure making his way across the other side of the construction area, not in any particular hurry. “He appeared over by the tractors.”

  “This is where your expertise comes in.” I nudged my friend.

  “He just spotted us.” Fab cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “We just want to talk. No cops.”

  He did a double take and took off running.

  “I’m not chasing him,” Fab said. “If he’s at all familiar with this area, he’ll be long gone before I can catch up.” She tugged on my hand. “We’ll check out the direction he came from.”

  Instead of walking the perimeter of the area currently under construction, we cut diagonally across the dirt lot and around pieces of big machinery over to where a skip loader was parked under an aluminum carport. As we strolled, we surveyed every inch of the area, looking for a hiding place…or possibly a living space.

  Fab inspected every crevice of the covered area. She climbed a ladder and continued her inspection.

  I whooshed out a sigh of relief when she came back down. We had one last corner to check out. I’d given up on what I’d thought was a good idea.

  Fab peered inside the door of an open shed, giving it a cursory glance since there was nowhere to hide in it.
She circled the small building, sticking her head back around the side. “Got him.” She disappeared, and when we came back face to face, she had a sleeping bag in one hand and a duffel bag in the other, a jacket slung over her shoulder. “He’s clever. He slanted a couple of boards over his sleeping space. If I’d looked in from the opposite end, I’d have missed it.” Fab dropped everything on the ground, stepping back.

  “No sign of anyone else?”

  Fab shook her head. “We’ve been over every inch of this place, and there’s no sign of another person.”

  “I’d like to buy your phone, triple value, but you have to hand it over right now. In return, in addition to the cash, you get my phone until you replace yours.” I held out my hand.

  “Before I agree to anything, you need to spell out what you’re up to now.”

  “I’m going to take his belongings and leave behind his jacket, the phone on top with my face smiling at him. All he has to do is push call. I’m going to leave an enticing note, food, cash, and reiterate no cops.”

  “If it doesn’t work?” Fab came close to rolling her eyes.

  “Then I’ll feel like the worst human ever. What’s Plan B? Wait until the middle of the night and corral him and drag him out of here?”

  Fab pulled her phone out and exchanged it for mine. “It’s got a tracking chip that I’ll activate, so one way or another, we track this kid down. Because… I know you won’t give up.” She jerked me around the front of the shed. “We’ve got company.”

  Workers were starting to show up, one of whom I recognized. “Hey, Riley.”

  He turned. “Madison,” he said, clearly surprised.

  I approached. “You got something for me to write on and a pen, by chance?”

  “On that metal table over there.” He pointed.

  “You pretend you never saw me and my friend, and you’ll get a free meal and drinks at Jake’s. Tell the bartender, ‘Madison discount.’”

  “Never saw you.” He grinned.

  On the work table, I found a sticky note pad and a thick pencil that had been shaved to a point. I wrote a message and, just in case, wrote my number at the bottom. I flicked through Fab’s phone, found my number, and stuck the note to the screen, then handed it back to Fab. “Put this on top of his jacket where you know he’ll see it.”