Hurricane in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 10)

by Deborah Brown

  He glared at me like a bug under a microscope. “Under no circumstances do you allow any felonious activities to take place while she’s there. Understood? Then we’ve got a deal.”

  “How old is Grandma? And Grandpa?”

  “She doesn’t discuss her age, and Grandpa is in heaven, as I tell my kids.”

  “Sounds like my mother. I’ll get them together for lunch and introduce your grandmother to cigars and poker.” I laughed at his exasperated expression. “Where do you get all these relatives? They arrive by the busload, and granted, we do get return visitors, but most are newcomers.”

  “The Campion family is a large one. We have a family reunion every year, and I admit, at times it’s difficult to remember all the names and where they fit on the family tree.”

  “We’ll take good care of her.”

  “I’d outright forbid her, but she still has a way of making me feel like a naughty ten-year-old. I got in plenty of trouble as a kid, and she never ratted me out once.” He smiled fondly. “I’d do anything for her, including fulfill this ridiculous wish of hers. She’s heard about other family members’ trips, and she demanded to experience it for herself. If anything happens to her, you’ll feel the full force of my wrath.”

  “Look at our overall track record with your family. No one has been shot, beaten-up, or arrested. There have been a few minor injuries, mostly conjured up by the men in your family so that they can look down Nurse Shirl’s top at her enormous… while she soothes their piddly aches and pains.”

  Cruz humphed. “Your boyfriend is waiting. Good guy, by the way. I’d approve if my sister was dating him.”

  “Did I say thank you? While sitting in that cell last night, what got me through was knowing you wouldn’t let me rot.”

  “I should use that in my advertising.” He took his keys out of his pocket. “I’ll have Susie send the dates of Grandmother’s visit to Mac.”

  “Prepare yourself, counselor; you’re going to lose this bet.” I waved and could swear I heard a groan as I ran into Creole’s outstretched arms. He lifted me off the ground and whirled me around, then slid his fingers into my hair to cradle the back of my head, pressed his lips to mine, and kissed me hard.

  Cruz revved his silver Bugatti, honked, and waved as he left the parking lot.

  “You two looked intense. More legalese?”

  “Just a wager I plan on winning.” I gave him the limited details of Grandma Campion’s upcoming visit. “I may have to use you and Didier in a shameless fashion, have her to dinner and have you two serve the food shirtless.” We both laughed. “Cruz doesn’t seem worried that Carbine’s murder is going to involve any more incarceration, which has me feeling less jittery.”

  “We’d go on the run before I let that happen.”

  “Someplace warm all year round, I hope.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Creole drove straight to his beach house, which was located south of Tarpon Cove off a road that appeared to go nowhere. His house sat at the end of a dead-end street, the nearest neighbor a half-mile away. An investor had originally bought the property, and when he got zero interest in a quick flip, he sold it to Creole for a great deal.

  The front side of the house didn’t have windows, but the back side was a long wall of pocket doors that slid into themselves and overlooked the Gulf. He’d renovated the interior himself, opening it up into one large space for the kitchen and living room, the bedroom behind a pair of bamboo screens. The bathroom was complete with a shower that could accommodate six and a clawfoot bathtub with a view of the water below.

  My favorite spot was the back patio and the pool that overlooked the beach.

  Our two days together went by fast. I accompanied him on his runs on the beach, riding a bike, the only way to keep up. The one time I walked, Creole took off running and picked me up on the way back, finding me sitting on the shore.

  “Thank you for bringing me to your house. You always know what I need.”

  “I like the isolation—no traffic and no people. We can enjoy one another, and your shell collection can continue to grow.”

  At home, I used the shells for mulch. Since he had no potted plants and only a couple of trees, I worked on filling a large flower pot to take home with me.

  On Monday morning, we sat at his kitchen island—which was half the size of mine, but we only needed room for two—and I poured him the last of the coffee. “You’ve got a meeting, and I get my house back today.”

  “You should double-check and make sure law enforcement has released the property.”

  “Too late.” I picked up my phone and checked the screen. “No phone calls or messages, so that means there were no problems. Mother arranged for a cleaning crew to show up early. It’s supposed to be a surprise—she’s using Cook’s wife’s niece, daughter-in-law, cousin, or something; that’s how I found out about it.” I almost laughed at his expression, knowing he was trying to figure out what relation that would be. I didn’t want to interrupt his thought process to tell him that my description might not be exact.

  He rose from his stool, hands on his hips. “You made that up, didn’t you?”

  I laughed, caught his squint, and laughed some more. I knew I was in trouble and didn’t care.

  He stalked the two steps toward me; moving backward, I stumbled. He tried to catch me, and we ended up on the floor. He rolled underneath me, cushioning my fall, and managed to kick the stool out of the way, and in retaliation, he tickled me until my laughter turned to shouts of “No more, no more.”

  He scooped me into his arms and kissed me.

  So much for his meeting.

  His phone rang, and he walked me to the couch, retrieving it off the table. He glanced down. “It’s Didier.” He answered. “Slow down and tell me what happened.”

  I wished he’d hit the speaker button, but Fab and I had been forbidden to do that when either of our boyfriends called one of us.

  “Fab’s missing,” Creole relayed to me.

  “That’s nonsense.” I stood up, seeking my phone. “Is she in the Porsche?” I asked while calling her number. It rang several times and went to voicemail.

  “Yes,” he answered, telling Didier he was putting him on speakerphone.

  “Fab left an hour ago,” Didier’s voice boomed through the phone. “I had a business call, and she went to get soufflés from the Bakery Café. The restaurant says she was never there; she didn’t call, and she’s not answering her phone.”

  “I know for certain Fab would never deliberately worry you.” I kept to myself the thought that, even if one of her sleazy clients had called, she’d just have made up a story and roped me in for confirmation. “If it gives you peace of mind, we haven’t pissed anyone off lately. Except maybe Carbine, but he’s dead, so it’s not him.”

  Creole rolled his eyes at me.

  “I’m calling in a missing person’s report.”

  “That’ll just piss Fab off if she’s not in trouble. Let’s try to find her ourselves first,” Creole said. “Who are you calling?” he asked me.

  “Brick. He can activate the GPS on the Porsche, and then we’ll know where her car is. He’ll hop on it because he hates when a luxe auto goes missing.” Brick didn’t answer, which made me grind my teeth. I sent a text: “911. Fab.” Then I paced around the room.

  While Creole reassured Didier, it took less than a minute for my phone to ring.

  “What?” Brick damn-near yelled.

  “Fab’s missing. Can you activate the GPS and tell me where the car is?” I took off Creole’s shirt, tossing it over a chair, and cut across to the bedroom closet.

  “I’ll call you back,” Brick snapped

  “I’d like to hang on.” I pulled out a skirt and dressed, slipped into a pair of flat leather sandals, and moved around the room, shoving things in my tote.

 
; “Hope he doesn’t take all day,” Creole grumbled, shoving his feet into a pair of tennis shoes. “We’re headed in your direction,” he told Didier.

  Brick came back on the line as Creole and I were headed out the door. “It’s in the Cove, parked on Main Street in the two-hundred block.”

  “Thanks, Brick. I’ll call you as soon as we get there.”

  “You need anything else, I better be your first call. You know she’s a friend.”

  My eyebrows shot up. Probably his only one, but I wasn’t mean enough to mention that, not right now anyway. I hung up. “Didier, that’s the same block where the Bakery Café is located.”

  “We’ll meet you there,” Creole told him and reassured him that we would find her and there would be a simple explanation. He hung up, opening the SUV door. “If you were missing, I’d be out of my mind. Didier’s emotions are strung tight.” He hugged and kissed my forehead before closing the door. “Let’s hope this isn’t some kind of notice me game.”

  “Fab doesn’t play those games. She doesn’t have to. Those two are wild about one another; she even tries to behave once in a while to make him happy. Now that’s love.” I stared out the window, for once wishing we were speeding. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

  “Get over here.” Creole stretched out his arm, resting it on my shoulder and flicking the ends of my hair. “No worrying.”

  It was a straight shot down the Overseas, and I said a silent to prayer that the traffic was light all the way back to the Cove.

  * * *

  The café was just another couple of short blocks away now. I kept my eyes peeled out the window, looking for Fab’s Porsche and the woman herself.

  Creole stopped in the front of The Bakery Café, pulling in next to Fab’s sports car. Didier was pacing back and forth in the road. Creole went to console his friend. I dug out my wallet and pulled out the emergency twenties, stuffing them in my pocket.

  I walked up to the first person I saw in a uniform. “Were you working an hour or two ago?”

  “No,” she said, turned up her nose, and walked away.

  “I was,” said a busboy who’d overheard. “You leave something behind?”

  I reached in my pocket and produced a twenty. “See the Porsche over there?” I pointed. “It belongs to my friend. You see which way she went?”

  “Smokin’ hot?” he asked. “She got arrested, don’t know what for, hauled off in the back of a cop car. She called the male deputy a bitch.”

  I walked back to where Creole and Didier stood, both watching me approach. “Fab got arrested. My guess is it was Kevin again.”

  “For what?” Didier bellowed.

  Several of the diners sitting at the outside tables turned their heads.

  “Let’s go find out. Follow us,” Creole told Didier.

  “Don’t worry. I can get her a lawyer and bail,” I said to reassure Didier.

  Creole and I got back in the SUV. The police station was a five-minute ride. We parked next to Didier.

  “What now? Didier goes in and finds out about bail? They won’t tell him anything about why she was arrested,” I said.

  Creole opened his window, sticking his head out and waiting for Didier to lower his passenger window. “Interesting development. Get in.” He motioned to the back seat. “There’s more room.” Didier started to argue, but Creole cut him off with a hand wave. I kneeled and started to climb over the seat, and Creole snagged the back of my skirt. “Where are you going?”

  “Tell Didier to sit up front. You can keep him calm.” I slid into the back seat, scooted up, and stuck my head between the seats.

  Didier opened the back passenger door.

  “Sit up front.” I flicked my finger forward.

  That caught him off guard and made him smile as he got in.

  “Cruz is here.” Creole pointed over the steering wheel. “Unless there are Bugattis on every corner.”

  “I’m surprised, whenever he parks it somewhere, that it hasn’t been stolen when he comes back.” I peered over Creole’s shoulder. “He has two small children; I wonder if he has a minivan for weekends.”

  Creole and Didier laughed at me.

  “The chances of Cruz being here for someone other than Fab are nil.” Creole smiled in the rearview mirror. “So just sit tight. We’re going to pull over next to his car so he can’t get away without all of us seeing him. Wait until I tell the chief that Cruz now represents Fab.”

  Chief Harder was his boss, and before meeting me, he’d had Fab on his radar as someone he’d like to see arrested. He’d felt the same way about me and had been slow to come around. He was now of the opinion that I wouldn’t do anything illegal, but the jury was still out on Fab.

  We didn’t have long to wait, but then again, Fab had been here for more than an hour. Didier was the first to see them. He jumped out of the SUV and strode over to jerk Fab into his arms for a short hug before releasing her. Fab made the introductions between the two men.

  Creole and I got out and leaned against the car. I waved to Cruz, who shook his head. Didier and he split away from Fab. I ran to her and threw my arms around her.

  “How dare you worry us?” I whispered.

  “I knew you’d find me,” she said smugly. We walked over to Creole.

  Creole hugged her, which surprised both of us. “Didier damned near went crazy.”

  “I wasn’t allowed to make a call before we left the Bakery, or I’d have called or texted.” Fab grinned at me. “I told Cruz that whatever deal he had with you covered me. He didn’t quibble and came down here, though he grumbled about the drive.”

  “What happened?” Creole asked.

  “Cruz called and told me to get to the sheriff’s department. I was calling Didier to tell him when I ran into the deputy, almost knocking us both to the ground. Told me snottily to watch where I was going. I unleashed more than a few colorful words on him.” She shook her head at her own bad behavior.

  “You have to appear in court?”

  “Thank goodness for Cruz. He was standing in the reception area when we walked in. I didn’t get booked, and I don’t know why. He had a discussion with the sheriff, and I couldn’t hear a word. Next thing I know, when the questions about Carbine were over, I got to walk out the door. Cruz grouched, ‘Don’t ever do that again.’ Didier’s going to flip.” She grimaced.

  “What did they want to know about Carbine?” I asked.

  I noticed Didier and Cruz were huddled in conversation by his car.

  “What was I doing and when was I doing it?” Fab said.

  “I take it you were your usual evasive self.” Creole traded glares with her.

  “Cruz coached me: ‘short and truthful.’”

  “Where are those two going?” Creole pointed to Didier and Cruz, who were headed back inside the police station.

  Fab walked towards the cars. “Knowing Cruz, he doesn’t want to make another trip down here. He grumbles about it every time. It will prevent Kevin from arresting him while he’s out somewhere, like you. I’d feel damn guilty if he were. Didier could have been a society darling, but because of me, he’s a suspect in a murder investigation.”

  “Didier had his pick of women before you came along. Was he in a relationship? No! He told me once he’d never been in love before you. Don’t you think that if he’d never met you, a part of him would be lonely?” I flashed her a sad smile.

  “That’s why I like having you around—to make me feel better.”

  The three of us got in the SUV. Fab slid behind the steering wheel, Creole and I in the back.

  Creole threw questions at Fab. When did we first discover the squatters? What did she see, no matter how minor? Her opinion of Carbine? Any ideas she hadn’t shared about who might have murdered the man?

  To my surprise, she gave direct an
swers. I laid my head in Creole’s lap and closed my eyes, trying to remember whose shift it was at Jake’s because I was hungry.

  It was two hours before Didier and Cruz reappeared. “What the heck were they talking about in there?” I asked, looking at the clock.

  Creole and Fab got out and met them in the parking lot. They didn’t talk long. I climbed back in the front while Didier and Fab got into his car. Creole waved from the front of the SUV; he’d received a phone call, which didn’t last long.

  Creole slipped back behind the wheel. “Didier told me to tell you that you don’t owe Cruz for him and Fab. He gave the lawyer his card and told him to bill him. Cruz looked disgruntled but didn’t say anything.”

  “Cruz is probably annoyed that it will interfere with our agreement that Mac basically entertains his relatives. He does host a dinner in a nice restaurant for them, which it surprised me to learn he shows up at.” I adjusted the side mirror, making sure Fab and Didier were behind us. “Are we headed back to the beach house?”

  “Your mother and Spoon are at the boat. She cooked dinner.” Creole chuckled.

  Mother’s cooking was a running joke in the family. It wasn’t that she couldn’t cook; she was a good one but chose not to, instead ordering take out. With those that weren’t in the know, she passed it off as homemade.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I don’t want either of you going anywhere alone.” Didier crossed to the galley, shirtless, hair disheveled, to pour himself another cup of coffee. He engaged in a stare-down with Fab, who hadn’t agreed to anything. She pointed to her empty mug, and Didier filled it for her.

  “On the bright side, none of us were booked for murder,” I said cheerfully.

  Creole reached for me, and I slipped out of his grasp, putting a chair between us.

  Fab said a few choice words to her boyfriend in French. At least, I assumed so, judging by her tone and body language. His response was swift and in an irritated tone.