Hurricane in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 10)

by Deborah Brown

  “The chief gave me a long weekend.” Creole kissed my cheek.

  Fab dropped her hamburger bag on the table, shooting Creole a glare. “Why don’t we go get some real food?” she said to Didier.

  Didier picked up the bag and dumped out the contents on the table, handing her a burger. “We’re staying.”

  Fab leaned back in her chair and shot me a sly wink.

  I bowed my head to hide the big smile on my face. If I had any guts, I’d say, “Let’s go.”

  Creole looked at Mother. “So, you didn’t—”

  She cut him off, shaking her head. “The cops are looking for you, honey. They want to question you regarding the murder of Carbine Wills.”

  “So that’s why he didn’t show up to court.” Fab completely took apart her hamburger, separating out each item.

  “In my house?” I dropped mine on the table, no longer hungry.

  “You got lucky there.” Creole put his arm around my shoulders, giving me a quick hug. “Wills was found on the beach behind your house, rolled in a fishing net and tucked behind one of the boulders.”

  “That’s why I wanted you to come here,” Mother said. “Kevin came to my house looking for you. I told him I didn’t speak to you every day and I didn’t know where you were.”

  “Little weasel,” Spoon growled. “Wouldn’t tell us what he wanted. So I called a friend right in front of him and found out. Prick got in a little-girl huff and left.”

  “Mother, where’s your outrage when your boyfriend uses the ‘P word?’ I only said hell.”

  Despite her glare, she laughed. Turning to Spoon, she shook her finger and said softly, “Really, honey.”

  He responded with an overly long kiss, the twinkle in his brown eyes a little unsettling.

  Okay! It’s official. Those two have a sex life. I laughed at myself; that had been evident for a long time, even before they were “official.”

  “I have an announcement.” I stood and found myself off-kilter a bit, with Creole’s hand under my skirt. He must have anticipated me moving forward, as he trapped my leg with his. “I didn’t murder anyone, not on purpose, accident, or just because it was a nice day.”

  “We know that.” Mother clucked. “You do need a lawyer to be with you during questioning, though, and Cruz is in court this afternoon.”

  “How would you know that?” Fab asked.

  “Fabiana, that’s none of your business,” Didier whispered, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

  She glared and slid away from him, then turned back to Mother. “Well?”

  “I called and talked to that nice assistant of his, Susie. She said she’d take care of it. Told me not to worry; you were a pro at getting out of trouble.”

  “Did Susie happen to mention that she loathes me and only takes my calls because she has to?” I shot back.

  Mother stood, holding out her arms. She hugged me, whispering, “She wouldn’t dare.” I hugged her even tighter. “Susie called back and said Cruz will be calling you later. That’s why I thought it was a good idea to hide you, and Spoon thought, since you’re already here, that the boat is the best place. He thinks Kevin won’t look here.”

  I sat back down. “Is that how you got the weekend off?” I asked Creole. “Mother called your boss and offered to fax over a written excuse of some sort?”

  “I’m sure she would have.” He winked at Mother. “If I hadn’t answered my phone.”

  “Why doesn’t Kevin want to speak to me or Fab?” Didier asked. “He may think I’m too pretty to shoot anyone, but Fab…” He laughed at her disgruntled look. “She’s even cuter when she tries to look shocked and innocent at the same time.” He leaned over and brushed her lips with his.

  “What about Creole?” I asked. “He could get in trouble for not turning me in.”

  “Kevin hasn’t gotten a warrant, so he must not have anything that points directly to you. As Didier said, there are at least two more people on this boat with motive,” Creole pointed out.

  “What about Carbine’s lowlife friends?” Fab demanded.

  “How are we going to find them? Either of you recognize any of them?” Spoon asked Fab and me. “Whether or not one of them killed Carbine, or knows who did, they’ll have hightailed it out of town and be long gone by now.”

  “Billy!” Fab jumped up. “He probably has pictures of everyone who stopped by the house.”

  “Even if Carbine was murdered in the living room, I didn’t do it, and I have an alibi for every second of my time since we left the property,” I griped. “If he was murdered inside, hopefully it wasn’t on any of the furniture; the area rugs are easier to replace.”

  Fab raised an eyebrow, as if to say, That’s not very sensitive.

  Creole picked up my ringing phone and checked the screen. “Ms. Westin’s office,” he answered.

  No one said a word.

  “She’s busy,” he said cheerfully. “Pencil, pen, yeah… somewhere.” He grabbed up a boating magazine, making a rustling noise. “Go.” He stuck his index finger in the air, writing whatever the person was relaying. “Madison will be there. If not, I’ll call you back. Okay, doll?” He held the phone away, looking at the screen. “Susie hung up on me.”

  “She does that a lot,” I said.

  “What did she say?” Mother demanded.

  “Madison is to meet with Cruz at his office at five regarding her legal issues,” Creole said in a snooty woman’s voice.

  Everyone laughed.

  Chapter Nine

  “Nice ride.” Creole hit the steering wheel of the Hummer as we headed down Highway One from Cruz’s office. “I think it’s the first time I’ve driven Fab’s SUV.”

  “I think most people not only think it’s her car but that I also don’t know how to drive,” I said. “Thank you for coming with me to lawyer extraordinaire’s office.”

  “Cruz has a ginormous ego, but he earned it.” Creole and Cruz had met when Creole testified in a couple of his cases. They weren’t friends but had mutual respect. “He’s got a near-perfect record in court, and he’s not a lawyer who built his name on getting the guilty off. I liked that during your discussion he was making a list of other possible suspects. It’ll annoy the heck out of him to have to come down to the Cove and mingle with the common people for tomorrow morning’s meeting at the sheriff’s department.”

  “One thing I’ve always liked about him: he’ll do what’s in his client’s best interests and not just what’s expedient.”

  “How many of his relatives have you entertained?” Creole asked.

  “A lot. When he first pitched the idea, I had no idea they would show up by the busload. They’re an exacting bunch. If one group gets a shooting, which happened a couple of times in the early days, the next group wants more excitement. Can I tell you a secret?”

  “We have secrets?” Creole glared at me.

  “I’m not sure whether this is illegal, but if it is, you might get in trouble and then I’d have to post your bail. Just so you know, I’d bend my rule of no jail pickups in the middle of the night for you.”

  “Spill.”

  “Even though we’ve reinstated our old rule at The Cottages of not renting to felons, drug addicts, and general law-breakers, sometimes one of them slips under the radar. Mac wanted to hire drunks to come fight, and when I said no, she came up with using the tenants as a sideshow. She’s thinking about having a ‘welcome’ pool party and inviting the regulars and a few of the odder people from the neighborhood.”

  Creole shook his head and laughed but went silent when he spotted the red flashing lights behind him. On reflex, he checked the speedometer. “What the hell?” He pulled onto the side of the road. “Wonder what this is about?” He powered down the window.

  I flipped up the visor and watched as two uniformed officers got out of thei
r car, one coming to the driver’s side and one to the passenger side. A banging on my window made me jump. Creole opened the window from his side.

  Kevin rested his forehead on the top of the frame. “Out,” he commanded me.

  Creole grabbed my arm. “What’s this about?” he demanded.

  “This doesn’t concern you, and if you try to interfere, you’ll be arrested.” Kevin watched my every move. “Don’t make me tell you a second time, as I could make a case for resisting arrest.”

  I leaned over and kissed Creole’s cheek, then whispered, “Call Cruz.” I opened the door and slid out. “What a piece you are,” I said in disgust. “I was sitting across from Cruz when he made arrangements for me to show up at your office in the morning.”

  “I guess I didn’t get the memo. Hands behind your back,” he ordered.

  “I’m under arrest?”

  “Yes and listen up for your rights, although you probably have them memorized.” He flashed a smarmy smile.

  He cuffed me and shoved me into the back of his squad car. Trying to get in the backseat with one’s hands restrained takes concentration to avoid falling.

  After a few words with Creole, the other officer made his way back to the car and climbed into the passenger seat as Kevin slid behind the wheel. I thought of a snotty remark but held back.

  We’d found out from Cruz that Carbine had been shot at point-blank range after first being used for target practice. Next to him was a Beretta that was registered to me. The cops surmised that Carbine was lured down to the beach and killed after not being cooperative in a painful interrogation; either that, or he didn’t have the answers. The killer got as far as wrapping his body in a fishing net, but must have gotten interrupted by something and walked off without a single witness. They hadn’t been able to locate any of the people who’d taken up residence in my house along with him. Back at my house, the place had been ransacked, and it was reported that they’d lived like pigs during their short stay.

  My questions were many. Why would I leave my gun behind at the scene? The Beretta had been in the junk drawer, and I’d forgotten to retrieve it. The fishing net sounded like a lot of work. Why toss my own house?

  Kevin pulled up to the back door of the station. He led me up the steps, past a large room that held several desks, most not occupied, and into a room with a holding cell. It wasn’t five-star accommodations, only a mattress, toilet, and sink.

  “I’d like to call my lawyer,” I told him with a smirk. “And until he gets here, I’m not saying jack.”

  “You don’t want to cooperate, that’s fine; you can sit in here all night.” Kevin pointed to the phone on a nearby desk.

  I knew Cruz would be long gone for the day and left a message with his answering service.

  “How can you give your word to my lawyer and not keep it?” I asked as soon as I hung up. “Instead of being a bastard, why not say, ‘we need to talk to her tonight’? You must be salivating at the thought of arresting me, and it doesn’t matter to you if I’m guilty or not. For the record, I’m not guilty.”

  “That’s what all criminals say.” His face red with anger, Kevin ushered me into the cell, slammed the door, and stomped away.

  So much for a truce.

  I sat on the edge of the mattress, thinking about Creole, and knew he was furious, and also that he would do his best to make sure I didn’t stay here long.

  It was cold in this place; they must hire people with polar bear skin. I wanted to wrap the thin blanket around my legs but shuddered at the question of who’d used it before me and whether it had been washed.

  What a terrible week. I squeezed my eyes shut to hold off the tears; I would indulge later, I promised myself. I crossed the fingers on both hands that I wouldn’t get moved to a big-girl cell that came with a change of location, clothing, and shoes.

  Chapter Ten

  Sitting with my back against the cement wall, I nodded off several times. This time, my eyes flew open when my legs, which I’d curled underneath myself, cramped, and the other occasion, my head had dipped from one side to the other. With only a postage-stamp-sized window to give me a clue, I wondered what time it was and what was happening on the outside.

  The outer door opened, and a deputy appeared in front of the cell, keys in hand, and unlocked it, motioning me out. “Turn around, hands behind your back.” He twirled a pair of cuffs. He didn’t inquire about my accommodations, a man of few words. I followed his example, certain I couldn’t find anything nice to say and that appearing unstable wouldn’t help my case. He guided me by the elbow to a corner office; peering through the large window, I saw Sheriff Tatum, whom I recognized from his re-election posters, on one side of the desk, Cruz and Kevin on the other, the only open chair between the two.

  I could see the outside through the window on the opposite side of the office. It was daylight, so that meant I’d spent the night, and since there’d been no room service, I assumed it was early morning.

  “You okay?” Cruz’s eyes lit on me, checking me over from head to toe. His expression was angry and frustrated. He worked to keep it from erupting. “I’d have been here last night, but these two went home after bringing you in and they needed to be present for this.” He stood and pushed back the chair. “Do you think you can take the cuffs off?” He directed the question at the sheriff.

  Kevin jumped up and, without any eye contact, removed them.

  The sheriff started off with a vague apology about the “mix up” of my being arrested instead of waiting for the meeting that had been scheduled. I didn’t understand how my spending a night in jail could be written off as “oops.”

  Kevin nodded in agreement. “I apologize for any inconvenience, but you can understand that unpleasant tasks are part of my job.”

  “That’s such drivel,” Cruz barked. “Pull a stunt like this again, and I’ll be filing a complaint with internal affairs.”

  Kevin glared at the angry attorney and immediately looked away.

  “Let’s speed this along. I have another appointment.” The sheriff flipped on a recorder, noting who was in the room and why we were here.

  “Do you have a time of death?” Cruz asked. “My client has an alibi for the last two days, corroborated by eyewitnesses.” He produced a file, which he set in front of him.

  Sheriff Tatum barely glanced at a report before answering. “Between one and three in the morning two days ago. Body was discovered yesterday morning.”

  “My client was on the boat of Mr. James Spoon, along with four other people, and all will vouch for her presence there. There is also videotape of the entire marina area.”

  The sheriff raised his bushy eyebrows and snorted at the mention of Spoon’s name.

  “The people that you refer to are most probably her friends and relatives,” Kevin interjected. “None of them are exactly pillars of the community, and they wouldn’t think twice about lying. Not to mention that her almost-stepfather, Spoon, has a criminal record. Do you have someone remotely credible?”

  “That was years ago, and you know it,” I snapped at Kevin. “By your standards, no one can turn their life around. That means you’ll always be an—”

  Cruz clamped his hand on my shoulder with just enough force to stop me from blurting out something inappropriate. I turned away and sent my lawyer a silent thank you. He leaned in and whispered, “I’m going to get you out of here. Don’t give them a reason to keep you locked up.”

  The sheriff fired questions from a prepared list, making tick marks as he went down the page, most of which Cruz indicated I could answer. He did ask about the court case, and Cruz interjected, answering the questions and informing him that, although he hadn’t been the attorney of record, Ms. Hayley was, and that they’d stayed in touch on every aspect of the case.

  My stomach rumbled loudly, but no one offered me anything to drink, mu
ch less eat.

  “Do you have enough evidence to charge her?” Cruz asked.

  “We’re not booking her. Thank you for your cooperation.” The sheriff nodded. “Don’t leave town. Do you have any questions?” He directed that to Kevin.

  “If Madison has anything helpful to add, she should call us first,” he responded.

  You’ll drop dead before that happens.

  “If you need to speak to my client again, call my office, and I’ll arrange to have her here.” Cruz stood, held out his hand, and helped me to my feet. He grabbed his briefcase, putting his hand to the small of my back.

  “Sorry for the misunderstanding,” the sheriff said. “It won’t happen again.” He directed the words to Kevin.

  I didn’t acknowledge the other two, mainly because I didn’t know what to say. It’s been fun. Except it wasn’t. Cruz led me down the hallway and out the door. The fresh air felt good on my face. “Thank you,” I murmured. “I appreciate you, even though you’re a pain sometimes.”

  Cruz laughed. “You did really well—you didn’t rush your answers and gave brief, direct responses. As of now, you’re their prime suspect only because I think they don’t have anyone else, and you have an alibi. I wouldn’t get excited; they will be keeping their eyes on you.”

  I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Anything else?”

  “There is one thing.” Hands on my shoulders, Cruz turned me around.

  Creole was leaning back against the passenger door of the Hummer, arms crossed, looking so disreputable it sent tingles up my spine. Slightly worn jeans, t-shirt hugging his biceps, his hair a mess, stubble dotting his chin and cheeks, and dark sunglasses covering his emotions, which I was certain matched the scowl. Before I could run to him, Cruz grabbed my arm, stopping me from fleeing.

  “It’s well-established that you owe me, and this is a big one. My grandmother is coming for a two-week visit. Much to my chagrin, she insists on spending one of those weeks at The Cottages. Even though I promised her a better time.”

  I flashed a devilish smile. “How about a little wager? I bet she’ll talk more about the week she spends at The Cottages than the week with you. I win—you owe me. You win—same thing.”