“He’s a lucky man, having a sister that loves him. I’ll get a picture from Phil and ask around town, and I’ll work on remembering everything I can about the mystery woman.”
“Maybe next time, you’ll tell me how Charles Wingate III became Doodad.”
His eyes narrowed. “Some folks don’t know how to keep their traps shut.”
* * *
“You two acted like children. I’m not blaming him either.” I tossed my head in Didier’s direction. “You probably provoked him.”
Fab raced down the highway toward home, and with practically no traffic, she had the road almost to herself.
“Merci, cherie.”
“It was a dreadful place.” Fab sniffed. “You must have found out something, since it took you long enough. Just once, could you skip the person’s life story and get to the point?”
“Mr. Doodad had some helpful information that I’m not in the mood to share right now.” I turned to the window and smiled.
“I’m going to pull this car over, drag you out, and dump you on the side of the road.”
Didier leaned over the seat and roared in French.
“I’m putting you on speaker, so behave.” I took my phone out and called Creole. “Meeting with Doodad wasn’t a waste,” I said when he picked up, and went on to relate the conversation, not skimping on the details. Too wordy, but Creole would cut through all the minutia.
“Dark-haired female, same age.” Creole paused. “They had some association; otherwise, why let her into his truck? Did Brad have any intense hangers-on?”
“No one hung around the job site,” Didier said. “And yet, it seems he was attacked right in front of the building.”
“He never mentioned another woman,” I said. “He’s happy with Julie and Liam, and he’s not the type to cheat. He’d break off the relationship and move on.”
“What about his past? Anyone unstable stand out?” Creole asked.
“Years back, mental stability wasn’t a quality that was high on his list. In most of his relationships, the women were more involved than he was. All that changed when he met Julie.”
“Check with Madeline,” Creole suggested. “Maybe she’ll have some insight into his relationships. This is good news; odds are, Brad’s still alive. Whatever the woman wanted, she knew she’d get resistance and brought something she could use to overwhelm him.”
“We know he’s being held against his will. How long until whoever she is gets frustrated and does something drastic? More drastic than what she’s already done?” I asked.
“Your brother is smarter than he looks,” Fab said. “He’s probably doing his best to placate her, talk her down; he’ll offer the moon until he can get away.”
Didier pulled Fab’s hair.
“Oww,” Fab yelped. “I was nice.”
“The new guy worked out okay,” I told Creole. I turned and winked at Didier. “But I suspect he’ll quit soon.”
“I’ll see you at the house in a couple of hours.” Creole ended the call.
A hottie in a silver Porsche pulled up alongside Fab at the signal and honked, lowering his window and waving at her.
Fab waved and, when the light turned green, shot ahead of him.
“Happens all the time.” I answered Didier’s frown with a smile.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Miss January’s cottage was only feet away, but I couldn’t force myself to move in that direction. Instead, I paced the driveway. I needed fresh air to make some decisions, and despite having just been cleaned, the interior still held a faint odor. My nose had picked it up immediately, and gagging, or worse, in front of anyone wasn’t high on my list today.
“Rip out the carpeting and window coverings and get rid of the furniture,” I directed Mac, relieved that everything could be replaced at minimal cost.
“The cleaner figured that would be your decision.” Mac pointed to the pickup truck that had just pulled into the driveway. “That’s his cousin; he’s here to haul everything to the dump. Then I’ll leave the windows open.”
“If an industrial fan would help, there’s one in the shed.”
“Snagged that already. I wore a gas mask and cleaned out her belongings.” Mac choked out a noise. “Did you know that in the state of Florida, you can bury a body out in the yard?”
“I’m happy to point out the obvious fact that no one I know has a yard. If Miss January gets that ridiculous idea in her head, I’ll know how she heard about it, and although I hate to threaten violence, I will kill you.” I headed to the office in search of a cold drink.
“You could be more appreciative,” Mac said, following.
I flashed an evil stare over my shoulder. “Would you mind?” I pointed to the doorknob and stepped aside.
“Someone forgot her lockpick, I see.” She held the door open, and I headed straight to the refrigerator, snatched up one of her sugary sodas, and popped the top, settling on the couch.
Mac settled behind the desk, adjusting her “You’re the stupid one” t-shirt. Satisfied, she said, “Score’s real name was Theodore Dixon. Located his daughter in Alaska. Her first question was about the health of his bank account, and upon finding out that he died with a dollar forty-two in his pocket, she didn’t care what happened to his remains.”
“What you’re telling me is that they weren’t close?”
Mac snorted. “Never even asked how he died.”
“Now what?” I didn’t bother to hide my disgust. What the hell was wrong with people? “We can’t let him go unclaimed. I’m not telling Miss January that when she gets released from the hospital. So, as I see it, another dirty job for you.”
“Figured as much. I’m one step ahead of you.” Mac patted herself on the shoulder.
I wanted to laugh, but why encourage her?
“Took care of it already. I got a power of attorney out of the daughter in exchange for sending a notarized statement that we wouldn’t try to squeeze money out of her in the future. That gives me final say.” Mac thrust out her chest. “I’m thinking you don’t want Score moving back into the bedroom, even if we could perfume him up.”
I groaned. “Let the guys at Tropical Slumber handle the pickup, details, and whatever it is they do.”
“Done.” Mac banged her fist on the desk.
“And Kitty?”
“Cleaner dude thought his chemicals might evaporate her. She passed his smell test. That was good enough for me.” Mac beamed.
* * *
The next morning, with Fab and Didier still asleep, I went to the Bakery Café to bring back a box of danishes. Arriving home, I saw Fab sitting at the island, a smirk on her face. “How was your day?”
Before I could retort with something appropriately sarcastic, my phone rang. Glancing at the screen, I shoved it across the countertop to Fab. “It’s for you.”
“Phone calls for me come on my phone, not yours,” Fab said snootily. The ringing stopped.
“Missed call.” I pouted. Fab’s phone started ringing. “Guess it was for you after all.” I smirked. “Hurry up and answer, or they’ll have to call again.”
I grabbed a cup of coffee and walked outside, sitting by the pool.
Fab came to the doorway. “Miss January is at the funeral home and has decided she wants Score delivered to The Cottages and placed in a standing coffin outside the front door.”
“What the…?” I had a few more questions, starting with why she wasn’t in the hospital and then how she got to the funeral home. “Who are you talking to and where’s Mac?”
Fab mouthed “Raul” and relayed the question. “She’s not answering.”
“Tell Raul I’m on my way. I’ve come to accept that I have to go by myself, but don’t blame me if another dead person wakes up mysteriously and you’re not there to see it.”
&n
bsp; “At least they don’t smell.”
“Raul can explain to Miss January about burial laws and that her latest harebrained idea could land her in jail.”
“Raul said he’d handle it.” Fab shoved her phone in her pocket, came over, and offered me a hand up. “For a change, I’ve got a better story for you. Tell Miss January that if she leaves him outside, another woman will probably come along and steal him.”
I was shocked speechless, but only momentarily. “That’s a great idea.”
Fab tugged me through the house, grabbed both our purses, and escorted me to the SUV. She got behind the wheel, powering the passenger window down. “You know I don’t usually allow this, but today, you can hang your head out the window. Suck up the fresh air; you’ll feel better, put color back in your cheeks.” She patted my shoulder.
My phone rang, and Mac’s face smiled back at me from the screen. “Bad news,” she groaned.
“How in the hell did Miss January get released from the hospital without me knowing?” I screeched.
Fab glared and rubbed her ear.
“That’s the news. I don’t suppose you know this next part yet. She’s missing again.”
“Miss January is at the funeral home, wanting Score back,” I said in disgust.
“Good news,” she said cheerfully. When she got dead silence from me, she continued. “She found out that she was being released to another care facility and pitched a fit. Instead of going back to her room, she walked out the front door, her hospital gown exposing her backside, and got into a cab that had just pulled up and let someone else out. Apparently, the driver didn’t recognize her patient attire and brought her home.”
“And how did she get to the funeral home?”
“That’s unclear.” Mac promised to call with any updates, and we ended the call.
The drive over to Main Street was shorter than usual, thanks to Fab gunning through every yellow light.
As we pulled into the driveway, the question of who drove Miss January there was answered by the run-down multi-colored Cadillac parked on the red carpet. Crum’s newest acquisition. He’d recently boasted about a new business enterprise flipping crappy cars: buying an old wreck and selling it for profit. I’d responded with something short and insincere and walked away from him. He’d shouted after me, “Wait, you’ll see.”
“I’m putting a stop to all this nonsense,” I said, shutting the car door and cutting across the driveway. “Keep up.” I motioned to Fab. “If I start to go soft, you poke me in the back, but not too hard.”
Crum stood in the doorway of the funeral home in ill-fitting, knee-length athletic shorts and a dress shirt that had once been white but had greyed considerably.
I came to a halt in front of Crum. “If you traded the ride for sex with Miss January, you can forget it. You won’t have time to consummate the transaction because you’ll be too busy moving out.”
Crum’s face flushed with anger, and he stepped around me. “I’m not an old whore,” he ground out.
“Happy you cleared that up.”
He stalked to his car and, after a couple of cranks of the engine, squealed out of the driveway, the muffler scraped the ground.
“Did you tell Miss January?” I demanded the moment I saw Raul.
He shook his head. “I tried, and she started to cry. She’s sitting in the viewing room, up at the front.”
I stopped to greet Astro and Necco, scratching them under the chin. Not bothering with subtlety, I tossed them two sandwiches each from the leftovers from the previous sendoff.
I tried to blow off my frustration before I got to the front and sat down next to Miss January, putting my arm around her. “I’ve got good news for you,” I said and proceeded to lie through my teeth. “Score had a daughter, who wants her father cremated, but she’s allowing you to keep the ashes until you pass on. We’ll have a beautiful memorial and invite all his friends; everyone can say nice things about him.”
“Can we have food?” she asked. “Score would like that. How nice he has a daughter. I never knew.”
“I’ll take care of all the details. You ready to go home? You’re riding with Fab and me.”
I steered Miss January to a seat in the entryway and crossed the room to talk to Dickie and Raul. “Can we do a memorial service, preferably on the patio? Midday would be best. Miss January will be partly sloshed and happy with whatever happens. If not enough people can be found to say something nice on Score’s behalf, you’ll have to hire seat-fillers. Food, but absolutely no liquor. Doable?”
“I’m impressed.” Raul smiled.
“You know how I feel about cremation.” Dickie grimaced. “But in this case, it’s for the best. The condition of the body was the worst I’ve seen, and this way, it won’t show up somewhere unexpected that will necessitate a trip to the police station.”
Dickie prided himself on his dressing skills, so I knew if he was suggesting a cremation, then the body was gruesome.
I turned to Fab, who had checked out all the viewing rooms and looked disappointed. “I don’t feel like dragging Miss January across the parking lot; can you get the SUV as close as possible and we’ll put her in the back? Unless you’d like a little one-on-one time up front.”
If looks could kill…
Chapter Thirty-Four
Creole left right after dinner for a “business meeting,” which I took to mean the bad guys were going to jail. He left with admonitions not to worry, that every contingency had been planned for. I made him promise not to get hurt or I’d kick his butt, which made him laugh. “I’m sure I’d enjoy that.” He kissed me hard and left. Great, so now I could obsess about both Brad’s and Creole’s safety.
I’d finished swimming and, my feet up on a lounger, was staring at the stars in the almost-darkened sky. Didier and Fab had left to go for a walk on the beach.
My phone beeped. The text from Phil read, “Doodad’s here and wants to talk to you.” I messaged back that I was on my way.
I scribbled a note that I’d be back soon and pulled a sundress on over my bathing suit, slipping into a pair of sandals. Grabbing my purse and keys, I ran out the door.
Hoping Doodad’s appearance was good news, I tried to stay calm on the short drive to Jake’s. Maybe his photographic memory had unearthed another clue. I had talked with Mother about Brad’s love life and the women he’d dated in the past. We’d shared a few giggles, but nothing stuck out.
Ignoring a shoving match in the parking lot, I pulled around to the side and parked in front of the kitchen door. I’d send Phil out to break up the drunks; the sound of the Mossberg rifle that was kept behind the bar being cocked was enough to stop any fight.
I entered through the back door, waved to Cook, and headed for the bar. Doodad, who sat at the end of the bar, waved as soon as he saw me. “Fight outside you need to break up,” I told Phil.
“Why not you?” She reached for the rifle and came out from behind the bar.
“I’d shoot them just for being a nuisance.” I took Phil’s place. “What are you drinking?” I asked Doodad.
“I’m good.” He put one hand over the top of his longneck and motioned me over with the other. “I saw the woman again—last night at the grocery store.”
“Was my brother with her?”
He shook his head. “I do my shopping late. Parked only a few cars from her. Took me by surprise when I caught sight of her loading a couple of bags into the trunk of an old blue Mazda. Never forget that car; the passenger side, which was visible when she opened the door, appeared to be gutted by a fire. Got the first three letters of the license plate: W-K-T. The last three, she had covered up. Surprised me she hadn’t gotten pulled over for that trick. By the time I got back to my truck, she was on her way out the driveway. Tried to catch up, but once she hit the highway, she disappeared.”
Phil cam
e back with a smirk on her face. “I should charge extra for breaking up fights.”
“Not when you didn’t get a shot off.” I traded places with her and slipped onto a stool next to Doodad. “Now what?”
“People usually go to the same grocery store: habit, closest, whatever,” Phil mused. Doodad must have told her his story while they waited for me. “If she’s using the Food Barn for proximity, then she’s nearby. Night shopping… She doesn’t want to be recognized?”
“What about the license number?”
“I already gave it to my guy.” Phil smiled confidently. “In the meantime, hire someone to stake out the parking lot every night. If the woman shows up again, give strict orders to follow at a discreet distance to see where she goes, and under no circumstances approach her. You don’t want to give her an excuse to do something stupid. Even if it only yields a street name, I’ve got several boxes of useless advertisements in my garage that you can litter people’s doors with while you canvass the neighborhood, and we’ll find her.”
“I’ve got experience doing that.” I grimaced.
“You may need to keep a low profile. I don’t mean absent yourself entirely, but this may be someone from Brad’s past that would recognize you. And that goes for your mother too. An easy disguise would be a hat and sunglasses.”
My phone rang. I recognized the familiar ringtone and pushed it over to Doodad. “You can answer.”
“Your mother or something?” He glanced down at the screen. “That’s the screaming shrew you brought to my house that day. What’s she want?”
“I snuck out of the house without leaving a note. ‘Back later’ is not enough info for her.”
“Now I remember, nosey too.” He answered the phone. “What’s up, sister?”
“Who the hell are you?” Fab screeched through the phone.
“You call back when you get a few manners,” he said stonily and hung up on her, rubbing his ear. He turned off the phone.
Phil and I laughed.
“Would be nice if Didier happened to catch her reaction to the phone call on camera, but he probably didn’t.” Phil continued to laugh. “Maybe he can recreate it for us.”
Hurricane in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 10) Page 23
