Hopefully, the idea was growing on her. “Xander’s smart enough not to screw up this opportunity. Let’s not forget that he has a bad attitude and moxy and will fit right in.”
“Don’t blame me when Didier flips and fires both of you.” Fab pulled into the auto body shop and parked in front. “Don’t think that I won’t have a few questions of my own.”
Spoon had the door open before we got out of the car. In his office, he motioned us to take a seat. I sat in front of his desk, and Fab claimed the couch.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked.
“Probably not, but that hasn’t stopped me from plowing forward before, and it won’t now.”
Spoon picked up the phone, pushed a button, and boomed, “Kid, get up here.”
A moment later, Xander opened the door and didn’t cover his surprise at seeing us sitting in the office.
“Have a seat.” I motioned to one by the desk. “I’ve got a job offer. Maybe. If it works out.” I told him Fab was a private investigator and that I backed her up on most of her cases. I left off the parts about not backing her up on the ones where she snuck off on her own and my owning other businesses.
“I’m interested,” he said, sounding unconvinced that it was even a remote possibility.
“Fab and I need someone to work in the office.”
He shook his head like he hadn’t heard me right.
“Answer phones, put your computer skills to work doing background checks, and deal with the occasional eccentric person.”
“She means weirdo.” Spoon half-laughed.
“In other words…one of us asks, you do. Nothing illegal. If any of the background checks I ask for encroaches on that area, I’ll get over my annoyance with our regular guy and use him.”
“What about you?” Xander asked Fab, clearly certain he knew the answer. “You okay with this idea?”
“As long as you know that if you even attempt to steal anything, I’ll find you and break both your arms.” Fab gifted him with a hair-raising glare. “You got off easy the first time.”
“Got it.”
“In lieu of a job app, I want you to run a report on a Dilwen Nash,” I said. “Heads-up: his public persona would suggest that he’s not a dangerous criminal, but he is. If that makes you uncomfortable, you can pass.”
“There’s no chance that this Nash character is going to find out what I’m doing unless someone tells him or he has someone tap your computer.” Xander was definitely interested. “I know a program I can run to block most hackers…slow them down, anyway.”
“If you don’t have people-rapport, then you’re going to have to develop it,” I said.
“She’s talking weirdos again.” Spoon smirked at me.
I started to glare back, which ended up a smile. “You’ll have dealings with my renters, and there’s not a one of them who has all their oars in the water. I don’t want you stomping on their feelings. If in doubt, smile lamely.”
“You’re leaving out the part where, for the most part, they’ll be drunk and unintelligible,” Spoon said.
I hissed a sigh at him, which made him laugh.
“Do you have an office or what?” Xander asked.
“Down the street. So, if you miss your old friends, you can stop back by here and socialize.”
“This is a business,” Spoon grouched.
“Do you have any self-defense skills?” Fab asked.
“I can run.”
Spoon and I laughed.
“You need to sign up for a class,” Fab said. “Madison and I have found that it pays to be prepared. Not that we’re expecting any trouble at the office.”
“Billy mentioned the same thing about self-defense,” Xander said. “I’ll talk to him. He’d love a good reason to kick my butt.”
“Do a good job on this report,” Spoon told him, “or think about working at the Stop-n-Go.”
“I know you’ve been wanting to wring my neck. Thank you for your restraint,” Xander said sincerely to Spoon. He turned to me. “Any reason I can’t have my own clients?”
“This isn’t one of those jobs where if you have nothing to do, you need to look busy,” I said. “You’ll have free time to fill, and you can do what you want, as long as you keep it legal. Can he monopolize your computer for a few days?” I asked Spoon.
He nodded.
I grabbed a notepad off Spoon’s desk and handed it to Xander. “In addition to a background on Dilwen, I’d also like you to find any information you can on Ronnie Bardwell’s death.”
“When did that happen?” Spoon yelled, leaning forward in his chair.
I repeated the conversation I’d had with Crum.
“Dilwen’s the kind of bad that doesn’t take kindly to those who screw him. He’s not going to leave witnesses and risk getting caught,” Spoon said, unhappy with the turn of events. “You can bet there’s not a scintilla of evidence that would lead back to him.”
“I’m hoping that this doesn’t have anything to do with the missing money debacle,” I said.
“I made it clear during our short conversation that your property was off-limits,” Spoon said.
“Thank you again for making that call and exerting your influence,” I said.
Fab’s feet hit the floor, code for “time to go.”
“I’ll work you a deal to keep your files up to date,” Xander said to Spoon. “Not that you can’t go back to doing it yourself, but you shouldn’t.”
“Works for me,” Spoon said.
I stood, rounded the desk, and hugged Spoon. “You’re the best,” I whispered in his ear.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Creole had come home late, tired, and just wanting a shower and to go to bed. I didn’t think it was the right time to tell him about my day. I did tell him that I’d be setting the alarm, as I had a stakeout with Fab, chasing a possible cheating husband. He shook his head.
Fab was waiting when I walked outside the next morning.
“I need coffee,” I gasped as I got in the SUV.
“That’s not a good idea, since there’s no bathroom in here.”
I scrunched up my nose at the thought. “Is the neighborhood so swanky they’d object to me using the bushes?”
“You’re good practice for when I have children.”
I laughed. “You’re going to look back on these moments and realize I’m quite tame in comparison.”
“I told Didier that I’d prefer our children to be little hellions and not grow up always concentrating on the right thing to do for fear of being reprimanded,” she said in a wistful tone.
“Just wait until we have our little hellion get-togethers.”
We laughed.
Fab caught a break all the way to Miami Beach—the traffic was light, and everything went in her favor. She pulled up to a secured condo building across from Miami Beach, entered a code that opened the gate, then backed into a visitor parking space. “Damn,” she hissed. “I almost missed him. Next time, we need to be earlier.”
A black Mercedes sports car pulled through the open gates and barely braked before pulling out onto the road. Granted, it was quiet, even for early morning, but geez, he needed to look before he jammed on the gas.
Fab pulled out and sped after the Mercedes, following at a discreet distance. She turned into a quiet neighborhood off the main drag, which went north through South Beach, and stopped in the middle of the street while the Mercedes parked. “Get out and watch to see where he goes.”
I jumped out and stepped behind the bumper of a car, and Fab sped off. She slowed at the corner and hung a u-turn, pulling over.
Six feet of twenty-something sexiness got out of the Mercedes—dark hair, a bit of a shadow on his cheeks, in well-fitting jeans. He walked across the street and entered a pink art deco fourplex.
I ran over to the sidewalk and attempted to keep him in sight without being obvious. When I got closer, I bent down and pretended to tie my shoelaces while watching him thr
ough my hair.
He knocked on the door of one of the downstairs units. The door opened, and he pulled a long-haired brunette woman into his arms, laying on a long kiss and walking her backwards, banging the door shut.
Not sure what Fab wanted me to do and unable to ask since I’d left my phone in the cup holder, I strode down the middle of the street. Spotting the car pulling away from the curb, I stuck out my thumb. I got in, and she claimed a space that opened up across from the building. “He went into the downstairs unit on the right. So, what’s my role?” I flipped down the visor and fluffed my hair. “I need to look cute for when I—”
“You sit there and try not annoy me.”
“That’s it?” I pouted.
“We’re here to get the goods on Mr. Cheater.” Fab reached into the back for her camera, screwing on the lens. “I need to answer the question of ‘is he or isn’t he’ for my client. He’s not very smart. He leaves the house for the gym three times a week, and the wife tried following him, but thinks he spotted her and lost her every time. So, she tried another tack and stalked the gym, and he never showed up.”
“Did she confront him?”
“Since she burned my ear on and on about her dignity and pride, I would suppose not,” Fab said. “Any more questions?”
“I wouldn’t have to subject you to a grilling if you’d spill the details instead of making me drag them out of you one at time,” I said testily. “Expecting your backup to sit here in ignorance is ridiculous. I’m not happy.”
“We can’t have that.” Fab smirked. “The lovebirds have been married three years—his first, her fourth. What else…?” She tapped her cheek. “Wifey is sixty-seven. Hubby—twenty-four.”
“Let me guess; she’s filthy rich.”
Fab nodded. “Another thing she went on about was how the marriage was a love match of soul mates.”
“How do you plan on proving his infidelity? Since he traded spit with the chick at the door, they’re probably doing it now. You’re not going to peek in the windows, are you?” I scrunched up my nose. “If you do, take pics, since I’m certain your client asked for proof.”
“Do you have to reduce the situation to the lowest common denominator?”
“Which part? The spit? Insinuating that they’re banging bones? You wanted me to be more direct?” I asked, wide-eyed, trying not to laugh.
“When Cheater comes out, I can get some good shots from here.” Fab adjusted the lens of her camera and took a couple of pics of the neighborhood. “It would be better if it were the two of them. If not and he leaves by himself, we knock on the door and get a picture of her.”
“You’re never going to pull off taking someone’s photo when they answer the door. If I were her, I’d call the cops.”
“That’s why you’re going to do it. You’ll be looking for that cat you can’t keep track of, and I’ll get the photos. Make sure you stand to the side and don’t hog the doorway.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I saluted. “Then what? You get a picture and…?”
“I turn it over to my client; she gets her divorce.” Fab brushed her hands together. “Apparently, he signed a pre-nup—no dough if he cheats.”
We didn’t have to wait long, which surprised me. Mr. Cheater came strolling out with the same long-legged woman I’d seen him kissing. They made a picture-perfect couple.
Fab hopped out of the SUV, crouched behind the hood, and got a couple of shots. I climbed into the driver’s seat. When the Mercedes pulled away from the curb, Fab got in on the passenger side and lowered the window, ready for any opportunity.
“I want just a couple more pictures to prove the relationship to my client beyond a doubt.”
The Mercedes cut over to the beach and stuck to the speed limit, which with the help of traffic signals made it easy to follow. Thankfully, he hadn’t taken a page from Fab’s driving manual and squealed through the streets. “Where do you suppose they’re going?”
“Pull up alongside them, and I’ll ask.”
The blinker on the Mercedes flashed, and it turned into the driveway of a popular restaurant, pulling up to the valet stand. The couple got out, he put his arm around the woman, and they went inside.
I slowed and Fab got out, hot on their heels. Less than a minute later, she was back. “They requested a table on the patio.” She grabbed her camera. “Out,” she ordered. “I’ve got a plan.”
“You’re going to attract all kinds of attention,” I warned.
Fab held up her hand. “Don’t ask. It’s better to spring it on you at the last minute. Do I need to remind you that sidekicks do as they’re told?”
“I got demoted?” I made a sad face. “What happened to partner?” I followed as she headed to the street. “I should move the car so I don’t get towed for not being a customer.”
“We’ll be out of here before the truck shows up. That’s if you don’t dawdle.” Fab snapped her fingers, her impatience showing. “Go hug that dirty pole.” She pointed.
“No! I’ll stand close, and that’s it.” If she laughed, I swore I was going to jump her in the street.
Fab aimed her camera in my general direction and snapped one picture after another. Most people wouldn’t notice that I wasn’t in most of them. “Pose, turn, right, then left.”
It was a great idea. No one was paying us any attention.
Fab closed the distance between us. “Let’s go. I’ve got enough here to make my client happy.”
“They looked like they were totally into one another,” I said as we walked back to the car. “What an icky situation.”
“The upside is that we can tell the guys we had a job where we didn’t pull our weapons and didn’t get arrested.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Fab made a couple of calls before getting back in the car and informing me that we’d be going to the office, but stopping at Spoon’s first, though she was secretive as to the reason. She pulled into the auto body shop and laid on the horn.
“Spoon’s going to kill you,” I said.
“He went home early,” she returned smugly.
The front door opened, and Xander waved, then ran over and slid into the back seat. “Happy to help out.”
Whatever that meant. At least, he looked happy to see us, which was a first.
Fab pulled out and up the street, cruising up to the security gate at her building. She hit a button, and the gates rolled back.
“Nice.” Xander whistled. “Both buildings yours?”
Fab nodded and hit another button; the steel doors of the bottom-level garage went up, and she pulled in and parked.
“Whose ratty old truck?” Xander asked when he got out, staring at the white pickup.
“Don’t let its looks fool you. In this line of work, you sometimes need a less conspicuous ride than a Hummer,” I said. “What did you get on Dilwen?”
“Not a whole lot, and not from lack of trying,” Xander said. “Dilwen owns a string of cash advance places. If you’re breathing, you can get a loan. Some require collateral; all come with high interest rates. I had to dig some to uncover them, since he bought everything under a corporate name.”
“Find any evidence of criminal activity?” I asked as we climbed the steps to the office. I noticed that Fab was listening to his answers.
“His internet profile is pretty clean,” Xander said. “Could be he hired someone to scrub it for him. I did find his name linked to two murders from over ten years ago. One associate’s body was found at a landfill, and another died in a drive-by shooting—shot in the head. The other two guys in the car were unharmed and claimed amnesia.”
“Bullet in the head and body in the dump seems like a pattern.” I shuddered, thinking of Butthead.
Fab unlocked the door, then turned and grabbed my arm. “Close your eyes.”
“Do I have to?”
“Just do it.”
Xander laughed.
I looked down and peered under my eyelids, so I could see where I
was being led.
“Open. What do you think?” Fab pointed to the oblong space I’d claimed, which was now decorated. “Do you like it?”
“It’s prettier than the stuff I picked out.”
“Toady has a friend that built the table to my specifications.” Fab pointed to the desk—at least, ten feet long and made of white shiplap—which she’d placed in front of the French doors, knowing I’d enjoy the view. “The rest, I ordered.” On the opposite wall were two shelf ladders with drawers below. She’d even found a white louvered divider that would offer a little privacy if needed. “The space still needs accessories. Didier held me back, insisting you needed to have input.”
“There’s enough room for another desk for our assistant.” I spun around, admiring what she’d done.
“I’d prefer the title of vice president.” Xander laughed. “What is this place anyway?”
“This side is a design/real estate company and belongs to her husband, Didier.” I held out my arms to the chrome and glass side with flashes of color. “The colorless side is a private investigation/security company. And you’re standing in Madison Enterprises.”
“Really?” Fab asked.
I shook my head. “It’s nameless for now. I needed a space to work in, and my best friend graciously offered one.” I turned to Xander. “We can share my desk until yours arrives. We probably won’t be here at the same time a lot. You’ll have semi-regular hours, a little bit of beck and call.”
“Works for me.”
“Another assignment,” I said to Xander. “I want you to go to The Cottages, a property I own, introduce yourself to Mac, who’s the manager, and have her show you around.”
“You won’t be disappointed you hired me,” Xander said, sounding cocky. “I’ll be the best VP, and you won’t be sorry.” He half-laughed, enjoying himself. “I asked around about you two. Everyone had mostly good things to say.”
“Mostly?” I raised my eyebrow. “Any good advice?”
“Yeah, screw you and you’ll shoot me. Her for sure.” He pointed to Fab.
I crossed my arms and stomped my foot. “Why do you always get to be the badass?” I asked Fab.
Overdose in Paradise Page 21
