Hurricane in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 10)

by Deborah Brown

  I opened my purse, withdrew the cash I had ready in a side pocket, and passed it to Doodad. “Don’t argue with me; you’re not going to win. When do you start work?”

  “Monday.” He pushed it back. “Really, a job is enough.”

  “Don’t make me shoot you.” I mimicked Fab’s fierce stare. “You’ve come through, and your latest sighting might be the break we need. Lunch, dinner, come in anytime you want.”

  “Does that look usually get you what you want?”

  Oops, maybe I’d mixed up fierce with unhinged. “So what you’re saying is I need more practice?”

  Phil held up her phone, Fab’s face on the screen.

  “Wait until she calls back and tell her I’m on my way home.” I picked up the money, shoved it in Doodad’s shirt pocket, and waved to them as I left.

  * * *

  Driving back home, I felt the need to hoard the latest information, detouring by the Food Barn, cruising the parking lot, scoping out the exits and which parking space had the best vantage point for a stakeout. If anyone was watching the security cameras, they might think I had a felonious plan in mind—grand theft grocery store. Not a common target, though occasionally a random story would make the local throwaway: “woman hides ham between her thighs and goes on the run.”

  Turning the corner to my house, the first thing I noticed was that Billy’s RV was no longer partially blocking the driveway and Creole’s truck was parked across the street. With Billy gone, that meant the case was over and the bad guys, I hoped, were all in jail. Hopefully Creole’s “business” had picked up everyone and not just the low-hanging fruit.

  All my worries about what to do next evaporated; Creole would know. I slid in next to Fab’s sports car. Was that dust on it? I jumped out and ran my finger across the hood, smiling, and scribbled “Wash Me” in big print.

  Creole stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, as I came inside and dumped my bag and keys on the bench. “Where have you been, young lady?” he growled.

  Before I could turn away, he saw the tears running down my face. I’d tried to keep them under control on the drive home. He closed the space between us and scooped me off my feet.

  “We’ll be back in the morning for breakfast. It would be nice, Fab, if you’d cook it and have it ready.” He laughed all the way out the door. He slid me onto the seat of his truck and wiped my eyes with his t-shirt. “I don’t like it when you cry. Bad news?”

  I shook my head, sniffing, not wanting to cry in front of him.

  He pulled his shirt over his head and handed it to me. “You can use this to blow your nose.”

  “I love you.”

  “You know the feeling’s mutual. I wouldn’t offer up my shirt to just anyone for bodily fluids.” He shut the door and went around to the driver’s side. “Ready?” He brushed at my fallen tears, wiping them away with his thumbs.

  He pulled through Roscoe’s, our favorite drive-thru, for hamburgers, then tore down the Overseas to his beach house. “Fab said you disappeared. Didier said you left a note. Fab thought you were at Jake’s, but everyone there always covers for you. Which she hates, by the way,” he said with a big grin.

  I told him about the conversation with Doodad.

  “That’s good news. The first big break. Two of them, actually. Put the word out about the car; an eyesore like that, people will remember, even drunks. We’ll start staking out the grocery store tomorrow night, and every night after that. Tonight, you and I need to get some sleep.”

  “Just sleep?” I stuck out my lower lip.

  “More good news. I’m on vacation for the next couple of weeks. I’ve got time saved up that I need to use. We’ll find Brad together.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Get up right now.” Creole tugged my leg over the side of the bed.

  “No,” I moaned and fought against going anywhere.

  “We already blew off breakfast.” He wrapped his fingers around the other ankle before I could get away. “My phone has been blowing up with texts. Fab and Didier both know I have an update on the Carbine Wills case. I’d planned to relate the details last night, but something more important came up—you.”

  I looked over my shoulder. “Everyone in jail?”

  “Those that aren’t dead.”

  “That’s all Fab needs to know.” I smiled up at him. “Text: ‘Case over. Jail for everyone.’ and come back to bed.”

  He stood me on my feet. Laughing into my neck, he wrapped his arms around me and walked me into the shower. “You tell her that.”

  * * *

  Creole parked in front of my house and came around the truck to open the door. “You are to behave yourself.”

  “Me?” I said in shock, leaning forward and wrapping my legs around his waist.

  He hauled me out of the truck, kicking the door closed, and kissed me all the way to the front door, where he set me on my feet and ran his hands over the sides of my hair.

  “You covering up the evidence of your manhandling?”

  He grinned down at me and opened the door, pushing me inside.

  “We’re back!” I shouted.

  “Is that what you call behaving?” Creole chuckled.

  “It gives them time to pretend they weren’t doing anything either.”

  “The whole neighborhood could hear you,” Fab grouched as we walked into the living room. She motioned for us to come out on the patio. Knowing we’d be spending the afternoon by the pool, Creole and I had come dressed to swim.

  Fab and Didier were seated at the table under the umbrella with a cart next to them holding a pitcher of iced tea and a white, oval enamelware bucket filled with ice and an assortment of beers and bottled water.

  “This look great.” I leaned down and kissed Didier’s cheek, then slid into a chair opposite him. Creole grabbed a beer and sat next to me.

  “What about me?” Fab huffed.

  “You want a kiss too?” I bit my lip, trying not to laugh.

  “A ‘thank you’ for my contribution.” Fab preened.

  “I’m going to instead apologize for all the bossing around of Didier that you must have done.” This time, I couldn’t stop the laughter.

  Creole and Didier clinked bottles.

  Creole took a drink and started: “You’ve both probably noticed that Billy is gone. The case of Carbine Wills and his friend Rocks is now closed.”

  I had asked him ahead of time to not let on that I knew a few things I hadn’t shared. Fab would understand keeping my promise to Creole, but not without a few fireworks.

  “Carbine Wills and his pal never had jack to do with Madison. He and his pal Rocks were growing high-quality weed out in a remote section of The Keys and had cornered the local market. That didn’t sit well with a cartel out of Miami that had moved in and wanted to control the drug distribution from Homestead to Key West. Some of the smaller operations had been given get-out-of-town orders, along with a few bucks and threats about what would happen if they came back.” He downed the rest of his beer.

  Creole continued, “Carbine and Rocks weren’t as easy to get rid of; they got greedy and intercepted a shipment of weed and cash. Not taking kindly to that, Oscar Santos decided the way to weed out the culprits was to kill his way through the rival organization.”

  “Didn’t he just die in a shootout?” I asked, having seen the headlines that morning when I flipped on my laptop to peruse the local news.

  “Oscar took exception to being taken into custody. Thankfully, none of our guys got hurt or worse.”

  “I saw that story and thought it was a fit ending,” Didier said.

  Creole nodded. “Oscar got wind of you suing Carbine, which is what led him to your door. A break for him; his usual motivational style of shooting people in various body parts and ultimately in the head clearly wasn’t workin
g for him, since the body count continued to climb.” He reached for a bottled water, uncapping and downing half of it. “Carbine’s murder was the break in the case we needed. Turned out he owned land south of here, where we found a six-trailer drug operation, all the trailers sprayed with bullets and all the workers shot in the head. Which apparently was the only thing the assailants were interested in, as they left behind grow tables ready to turn over six figures in product.”

  “Glad you were able to take Oscar out before an innocent party got hurt,” Didier said. “I assume you put Billy on guard duty because you were worried about us?”

  “When Billy spotted the same car driving by the house a few times, there was no damn way I was leaving this property unprotected. Ran the plate, lucked out with an outstanding warrant, and that guy’s in jail.”

  “No more lineups?” Fab held a napkin in front of her chest as though it were a placard.

  “That’s her.” I pointed. “Number one. She did it.” I laughed at Fab’s scowl.

  “You don’t know how much I wanted to kick Kevin’s ass for that,” Creole growled. “He claimed not to know that you’d been cleared. Not sure I believe him, but I can’t prove it.”

  “I’m happy it’s over and you’re in one piece.” I laid my head on his chest.

  “Now our focus can be on Brad,” Didier said.

  “About that,” I said, remembering that I hadn’t updated them on the latest. “I met with Doodad again last night; that’s where I was.” I told them about the woman he saw at the grocery store.

  “It’s hard to be in on this together when we’re just now hearing about this,” Fab said.

  “As you know, I was upset when I got home last night. If it makes you feel any better, you’re the first to hear the update,” I said.

  “Who grocery shops late at night?” Fab asked.

  “I drove through the parking lot last night and quite a few people do. Surprised me,” I said.

  “You can count on our help.” Didier stood.

  “You’re about to get a taste of the exciting world of stakeouts. Unless there’s a shootout. Right, Fab?” Creole winked.

  Didier nodded to Creole. “I’m ready to kick your butt in a game of water basketball.”

  “I need a break and a swim, and then it’s time to come up with some new ideas,” I said.

  “Me and Didier against you and Creole in a little water fun,” Fab said, a sneaky look on her face.

  “No thanks.” I turned up my nose. “You know that’s not fair, sticking Creole with the weakest player.”

  Creole picked me up out of the chair and walked to the edge of the pool.

  “You better not!” I screeched.

  He jumped in.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The four of us were once again staking out the parking lot of the Food Barn, which we’d done for the last three nights, awaiting a sighting of the crappy Mazda. The only other market in town was an upscale healthy foods variety, and we agreed that she probably wouldn’t frequent that one.

  We’d parked the SUV in the back of the lot in the only aisle that faced the front of the store. Fab and Didier had offered to trade off nights, but I wanted to see the woman and not have any more delays in finding Brad. It was my hope that we’d be able to follow her and rescue my brother. If the guys had their way, Fab and I would be sitting at home.

  “I say we up the stakes of the next poker game and make it strip.” Fab yawned.

  “How do I explain to the sheriff about the two naked people in the back seat?” I winked at Creole.

  “You’re sure of yourself.” Fab sniffed. “Tell them the truth: Didier and I won and made you two get in the back.” She yawned again, this time with sound effects. “I’m bored.”

  I glared over the seat, shaking my head. “You of all people know that stake-outs aren’t exciting, even on television. And count yourself lucky: law enforcement officers huddle in way crappier cars than this one and eat junk food.”

  “That’s the truth,” Creole said. “Try making yourself inconspicuous while hiding behind a tree or in the bushes.”

  “I hid in the bushes once and almost got peed on by a cat,” I said.

  Didier patted me on the head. “Something Fab got you into, I’m sure.”

  Fab was right—it did get boring. It had been her idea to play cards, so she should be the one to come up with some new entertainment. I realized suddenly that I was resting my head against the back of the seat; my eyes popped open and I felt a surge of guilt. It had been the plan to arrive before dusk and hold vigil until midnight.

  Mother and I had talked after my initial conversation with Doodad, and we couldn’t come up with anyone from Brad’s past who could have come back into his life. We agreed that he hadn’t recently mentioned another woman, only talking about Julie and how happy he was in the relationship.

  Didier stiffened, leaning forward, and pointed. “There’s the car. Fits the description. Surely there can’t be two.”

  The female at the wheel drove past us and slowed, pulling into a space an aisle over. It took several minutes for her to get out.

  “What took her so long?” Fab peered over my shoulder.

  I stared hard, wishing I could jerk off the woman’s ugly bucket hat. The small brim was covering her brow.

  She didn’t head into the store; instead she stood on the ledge on the driver’s side and peered over the roof… right at us.

  “I think we’ve been made.” Creole groaned. “Everyone duck. Madison get on the floor; no way she’ll be able to see you there.” He started the engine and drove another aisle over in the opposite direction, stopping next to a man pushing a shopping cart with several bags and rolling down his window. “Sorry to bother you. It’s me and the wife’s first time here in The Keys; any restaurants that stay open late?”

  I didn’t hear the man’s response. Creole thumped the outside of the driver’s side door in acknowledgment. “Thanks, pal. Appreciate it.” He waved and headed for the exit. “Well?”

  “That was odd,” Fab said. “She didn’t move from her car, eyes glued to the SUV while you talked to the man. As soon as you were in gear, she got back in her car and beat it for the back exit.”

  “Two things: she knows you, Madison. Or she recognizes your car.” Creole turned to me. “We’ll find that woman. I’ll bet she’s got the answers to our questions.”

  “It was too dark for me to get any kind of a look at her,” Fab said. “It did appear that she recognized the SUV, so we can’t use it to follow her; she’ll be more paranoid the next time she comes out.”

  “Tomorrow, I’ll get us another car.” Disappointed didn’t cover what I was feeling. The woman was so close, but still out of our grasp.

  “Both my and Fab’s cars are available to you anytime,” Didier offered.

  “Merci buckets.” I watched as Didier grimaced. “Not to be rude, but I think we’ll fit in better with a beater car. I’ll arm-twist an ugly ride for our use.”

  “It’s still grand theft auto, even if the car is only worth ten bucks,” Creole said.

  “I’m hardly going to jack a car. Besides, much to Mother’s and my disgust, Fab hasn’t held the hotwiring seminar… yet.”

  Fab squealed from the back seat.

  Creole chuckled. “Didier, we’ll need you and Fab in one of your cars so that we have both exits covered.”

  “When she goes into the store,” Fab said, “I could wait for her in the back seat of her car. Scare the… you know… out of her, in a friendly way.”

  I turned in my seat. “Thanks for the laugh. Felt good.”

  “That trick works on some people, so I’ve heard,” Creole said. “We don’t know how crazy she is, though; she might have nothing to lose, and people could get hurt if, say, she decided to ram her car through the store window.”
>
  “We got a plan?” Didier asked.

  “You guys go for a run in the morning, and the girls will take care of the details,” Fab answered. “First stop, The Cottages. Am I right?” She kicked the back of the passenger seat.

  “Isn’t the old dude’s funeral tomorrow?” Creole asked.

  A snort came from the back seat.

  “Really, Didier,” I admonished.

  “Excuse my manners,” Didier responded. At the same time, Fab yelped.

  “Since I’m sure you guys would do anything for the benefit of this team, there is one more thing,” Fab said. “You attend the funeral in our place and be sure to go shirtless. It’s a Keys funeral; you’ll fit right in. Miss January thinks you’re both hot; she’ll never notice that Madison and I aren’t there.”

  Creole choked. “Ain’t gonna happen.”

  “Thank goodness,” Didier mumbled.

  “None of us need to go. Mac’s got it under control.” Creole shirtless made me smile, but it wasn’t for other women to look at. “It violates my policy of going to funerals of people I don’t know.” A handful of conversations that didn’t last longer than a sentence or two didn’t qualify as knowing someone. “Fab, you didn’t know Score, but did you ever threaten him?”

  Fab grumbled under her breath.

  Creole pulled halfway into the driveway. “You two in the back—out.”

  “You’re so rude.” Fab sniffed.

  “You must be used to it by this time.” Creole grinned.

  Didier cut off whatever Fab was about to retort by pulling her across the seat and out the door. Her feet barely touched the ground, as he immediately scooped her into his arms and carried her into the house.

  Creole turned the SUV around and headed back to the highway.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The next morning, Creole and Didier hit the beach early for a run that I would have needed a nap for first. He pulled into our driveway and jumped out of the SUV, and before he could grab his bag, Fab slid behind the wheel. He scowled at her through the windshield. Going around to the passenger window, he stuck his head inside and claimed my lips. “Any trouble, I’m your first call, not your lawyer.”