The house was in need of attention. Mold grew up the walls from the ground to about two feet up, and the windows were completely covered by brown hurricane shutters, one held in place by a couple of 2x4’s. The front door was a new addition and seemed out of place. The oversized garage didn’t sit level to the ground and had, at one time, suffered severe water damage.
* * *
Fab and I weaved through the busy bar, where all the seats were filled, moving past a raucous game of pool to the best table, which was tucked into the corner of the deck and reserved for family and friends. I removed the “do not sit here” sign and cleaned off the table. Fab hit the switch for the overhead ceiling fans, and the white Christmas lights wrapped around the railing and across the overhang set the mood.
Didier appeared with a tray of beer and bottled water. Creole, following him with two baskets of chips, kicked the door closed behind him.
I waited until we were seated and everyone had a chance to take a long swallow of their drink of choice. “Isn’t this where we call the cops and have them kick the door down for a look around?” I directed my question to Creole but wanted everyone’s input. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?” I scowled at Creole.
Fab leaned back, arms crossed, and grinned at Creole.
“Enjoying yourself?” Creole’s blue eyes darkened, narrowing on Fab.
I scooted away, mildly annoyed with the man. I didn’t get very far; he reached out and tugged me to his side, clamping his arm across my shoulders.
“We have zilch for a search warrant,” Creole said. “Doodad fingering her is sketchy at best because he couldn’t identify Brad as the man behind the wheel. However, considering their history, we definitely need to get in for a look around.”
“So we get to do the illegal dirty work, so you can swoop in and make it look all legal-like,” Fab said.
Didier arched his brow at Fab. “Why not stake the house out, wait for her to leave, and go in?”
“I know.” I slammed my water bottle down on the table so hard it sprang a leak. My voice rising, I said, “I’ll knock on the door and, when she answers, stick my Glock in her face.” I couldn’t tell from the look on Creole’s face whether he was annoyed or amused.
Fab raised her hand. “You’ve got my vote and backup, of course.”
Didier pushed her hand down. “That’s not going to happen… at least not like that. Patty could have her own firearm, and you two could get hurt or worse.”
“We smoke her out on some pretense. You, my dear, are good with the stories.” Creole laid his arm across my shoulders. “That’s a one-shot deal, though, as she’ll probably get suspicious. Or we grow some patience and wait for her to make another food run.”
“While you’re flipping on option A or B, I’ll go back to the property and check it out.” Fab stood, and Didier jerked her back down. “Patty won’t expect someone to be lurking around in the middle of the night.”
I returned Fab’s sly smile, knowing that was exactly what she would do.
“Everyone at this table knows you’ll do what you want, regardless of what the rest of us agree on.” Creole pinned Fab with a stare. “I’ll be your backup.”
“That’s not a good idea.” I put my hand over Creole’s. “You could get in big trouble—your job could be on the line.”
Creole leaned down until we were nose to nose. “You’re not going, even if I have to tie you up to prevent it.”
“I’ll go,” Didier offered. “How hard can be it to peek in a few windows? As small as that house is, there won’t be many.” He shook his finger at Fab. “Don’t think about sneaking out; I’ll tie you to the same piece of furniture as her.” He tossed his head in my direction.
“That’s settled?” I glanced at Fab, who nodded slightly. “What if Brad is inside? You walk away?”
“That’s exactly what they’ll do.” Creole slapped the table. “Chief Harder will issue a search warrant. You want this to go down legally, with no chance that you end up in jail with Patty as a roommate.”
“What do we tell Mother?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Creole said adamantly. “Not until we have something definitive. Why get her hopes up, when it might turn out that Brad’s not inside?”
“Mother isn’t going to like it when she finds out we weren’t forthcoming.” I pressed my body against Creole’s.
“Got that covered. We’ll finger Fab, say it was her idea,” Creole said. He and Didier laughed.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Creole sat in a chair out by the pool with his feet up to make a few phone calls. I watched him from the French doors, making plans for my getaway. Out of ideas for how to get around the watchful man, I had bided my time, and now I would sneak away right under his nose, or rather, behind his back, since he was turned away from me. Not being at Patty’s house with Fab and Didier and watching everything go down firsthand was killing me. I grabbed my bag, snuck out onto the patio, slipped quietly around the side of the house, and tiptoed down the path, which I illuminated with my phone. A good getaway didn’t include falling down. When I reached the driveway, I breathed a huge sigh, inserting my key into the lock of the Dodge. It didn’t open because a paw-like hand held it closed.
Creole’s face was set in a stern expression, his mouth firm and unsmiling; his eyes bore into me and with one look reduced me to a naughty child. Hands on my shoulders, he turned me around and walked me back inside, the front door closing with a resounding bang. Before he could unleash the lecture that clearly sat on the tip of his tongue, his phone rang. He answered with a grunt.
“Who is it?” I asked and got a growl for an answer.
“Don’t let Fab do anything illegal,” he said. “Park where we did the other night and keep an eye on the house in case Patty decides to leave. I’m on it from my end.” He hung up. “Brad’s inside. Fab spotted him.”
I grabbed my bag. Creole grabbed my other arm and hauled me back until I stood in front of him. “You better not be about to suggest I sit at home and wait for what… the cops to show up?”
“That depends on you. My first choice is to handcuff you to the bed. Can you promise to follow orders?”
“Yes, I promise.”
“You’re lucky I believe you, or you’d be headed upstairs.” His phone resting under his chin, Creole opened the door for me, one hand at the small of my back, and led me towards his truck. He gunned it out of the driveway, stopped at the corner, and made another call.
I guessed it to be Harder as he updated the chief. “They found one hurricane shutter half open, the rest nailed closed. Television screen glare illuminated the room, and Fab saw Brad lying on a mattress, one arm secured to a wall stud, Patty asleep next to him.” Creole shook his head. “Thanks, Chief.” He ended the call. Turning onto the main highway, he glanced over at me. “Harder’s sending agents to serve the warrant, and it will go down right around sunrise.” He held up his hand. “Trust me: I know what I’m doing, and I’m not going to put Brad in any jeopardy.”
I powered the window down and hung my head out. It had sprinkled earlier, and the cool wind whipped at my hair. I let the sea air blow in my face, carrying the faint smell of the Gulf waters. It had always had a calming effect on me in the past, and I hoped it wouldn’t let me down now.
Turning onto Patty’s street, I spotted the Mercedes parked farther up, at the corner. Creole pulled in behind the twosome, who were hunched down in the front, heads barely visible over the dashboard.
“We’d look less like hoodlums if we crowded into the Mercedes.” When Creole’s eyebrows shot up, I added, “Or not.” I slid out of the truck and into the backseat of the Mercedes. “Anyone bring cards?”
* * *
Two hours later, Creole’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen and got out of the car. I pasted my face to the window, and he scowled and turned his back, but
not before I saw a quick smile.
“I’ve been informed that under no circumstances am I to set foot outside this car,” Fab snapped, banging her head against the back of the seat. “Unless it catches fire.”
“Stop that.” Didier slipped his hand behind her head and rubbed. “This is going to be over soon; the psychotic one will be off to jail, and you’ll be going home with me. The last thing Brad wants is to have his first hours of freedom marred by his sister and her friend getting locked up.”
Two unmarked cars turned the corner at the opposite end of the street, leading the parade, followed by three boasting that they represented Miami-Dade County and a lone local sheriff’s department car.
“Harder sent a lot of manpower for one lone woman,” I said, impressed by the turnout.
“They have to be prepared for any scenario once they get the door open.” Fab made shooting noises and didn’t stop until Didier glared at her. “Brad and Patty are over on that side.” She pointed toward the far corner of the house. “I ran the options; I’d have someone at the window, and if she pulls a gun, shoot her.”
“Just as long as Brad doesn’t get shot in the process,” I said.
The officers congregated behind one of the cars, all outfitted in bulletproof vests. One popped the trunk and got out a battering ram.
“Should we offer our lock-picking services?” I asked, and Fab laughed.
The officers walked up the driveway and readied themselves at the front door. The lead cop held the battering ram, the four behind him armed with impressive rifles with scopes.
“Warrant,” echoed in the early morning stillness. “Open up.” One swift jab, and the door flew in, the four with the rifles moving into the interior.
I opened the car door and moved down the sidewalk to stand opposite the house, Fab by my side. From the corner of my eye, I saw Creole tug on Didier’s arm, shaking his head at the two of us.
All was quiet inside, and I took that as a good sign. I held my breath, not moving an inch. The waiting seemed interminable.
Fab elbowed me. An ambulance rounded the corner. “Breathe.” She slapped me on the back. “It’s probably routine.”
Patty was led out first, hands cuffed behind her back. She made eye contact with everyone in the street and did a double take when we locked eyes. Fab saluted her. Fury filled Patty’s face. She was lucky I had a handle on my mental health, no matter what other people thought; at that moment, I wanted to dispatch her to hell. The officer led her to his vehicle, squashed her head forward, and guided her into the back seat.
I made my way across the street, coming to a stop next to the officer who appeared to be the man in charge.
“You should go back across the street, Madison. Let us do our job.”
“Have we met?” I squinted at him.
He smiled and stuck out his hand. “Varner. Hard-hearted Harder is apparently a fan. Sent me a picture of you and your cohort, as he called her; asked me to make sure you two didn’t get arrested.” He handed me his handkerchief. “You better not be crying.”
I forced a smile. “Just tell me my brother is okay and you didn’t call for the coroner.”
“He’s fine. My guys say that Ms. Shanks took good care of him; he doesn’t appear to have suffered at her hands. He might have enjoyed the attention under different circumstances, such as not being restrained and wondering if he’d ever have a normal life again.”
“So the medics being here is precautionary?” Fab said as she came up beside me; I was surprised she’d waited this long.
Varner nodded and looked her over as though he’d seen her on a wanted poster and was trying to remember the charges.
“This is cohort,” I introduced her. “Most people call her Fab.” I mouthed to her, “Be nice.”
“Your brother will be taken to Tarpon Cove Hospital to be checked out,” Varner said.
“Can I ride with him?” I asked.
“Go stand next to the ambulance and tell the driver I said it was okay for you to ride along. I’ll be having a short conversation with Brad before he leaves and arranging a time for a longer talk.”
I sidestepped in front of Fab and lifted the back of my shirt slightly. She withdrew my gun and made it disappear, I guessed down the front of her pants.
“I saw that.” Varner winked. “Good idea, firearms are frowned upon in hospitals.”
“Any time you’re down this way, stop in at Jake’s, shoot some pool. You get the cop discount—free—and can use my private table.” The first medic appeared in the doorway. “Thank you.” I waved to Varner and crossed to the ambulance.
Brad came out lying on a gurney, one knee bent. He said something to one of the medics, who laughed. Joking was the best sign of all.
They rolled him up to the open doors and lifted him in.
“Hey, sis. I never doubted you’d find me.” He looked exhausted but managed a smile.
“You’re in so much trouble.” I stepped up and sat down, and the doors slammed shut. “If you think you’ll know a moment’s peace… I’m having a GPS tracker attached to your ankle.”
“Mother?” Brad asked.
“You know Mother never caves in a crisis. She’s had Spoon as a cheerleader, holding her hand the entire time.”
“You know, I do like the guy.” He made a face.
“You have to accept that they’re…” I scissored my fingers. “It’s not like we have to call him ‘daddy.’”
Brad groaned and covered his face.
The medic laughed. “Spoon? Is that… hm…?”
I nodded, and he laughed again.
Chapter Forty
“Get me out here,” Brad whispered.
Brad had been staying at Mother’s since his release from the hospital two days ago, and she was driving him crazy, trying to anticipate his every need.
Mother flew into the hospital not five minutes behind the ambulance. Creole had called from the scene, breaking the news to Mother and Spoon. Brad and I were in an exam room, waiting for the doctor. We heard her before she swept through the door, steam coming out her ears, Spoon behind her, irritated that he couldn’t get control of his woman. I’d have to have a talk with the man and tell him it was best to wait until she wound down before attempting a rational conversation.
“Why am I the last to know?” Mother demanded. “I’m his mother.” She bent over Brad, brushing his hair off his forehead and kissing him.
“Mother, he just got here five minutes ago,” I said.
The glare she shot me would have made a lesser person fall over. She put the back of her hand to his cheek.
Brad caught her hand in his and kissed it. “I don’t have a fever. I’m tired is all. I’d like to be sitting on the back of my boat, sucking in the salty air; I missed fresh air, being cooped up inside.”
“I never liked that Patty girl,” Mother hissed.
“Mother.” Brad sighed. “I don’t want to talk about her. Not ever.”
The door opened, and Shirl entered. “Everyone out.” She smiled at Brad. “The doctor is ready for you.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Mother said and flounced down into a chair.
I raised my eyebrows at Spoon, signaling, She’s your girlfriend.
Spoon moved around the bed and hauled her out of the chair and onto her feet. “He’s a grown man,” he growled. “We’ll be in the waiting room.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me out the door along with Mother. Before it closed, I winked at Brad.
He was released an hour later with a clean bill of health.
“You’re on your own, bro.” I sat down next to him on the couch, sipping my favorite morning brew. Anticipating Mother’s eagle eye, I had shown up early, hoping for a private conversation. I’d surprised Creole when I left the house at the same time he did, when daylight was just making its appea
rance. “Before you tell Mother that she’s smothering you and you’re ready to run away, where are you going exactly? Isn’t Julie still here?”
“Do I need to remind you that we always stick together?” Brad wrapped his arm around my shoulders, giving me a hard hug. “After dinner and my edited version of events, Julie aired her grievances. Starting with ‘why couldn’t this investigation involve law enforcement?’ Then she went home.”
“I did involve law enforcement. She means pain-in-the-rear Kevin. I don’t know if she knows he wanted to arrest the whole family, starting with me and Fab. Creole’s boss made this case a priority.”
“Julie just wanted more input. She felt compelled to remind Mother more than a couple of times that she loved me and wanted timely information.”
“I should’ve stayed in touch. I’ll talk to her. Truthfully, I was obsessed with finding you. Driving around in circles at night, hoping to spot your truck. That activity would normally earn me a lecture about personal safety from Creole; instead, he hugged me and promised we’d find you.” I laid my head on his chest.
“I counted on you to notice I was missing. I hung onto that thought, talked to you every day inside my head, wondering if I could get messages to you telepathically. Did you have any strange feelings? Woo-woo moments?”
“You appeared in a dream that was upsetting, and I’m not sure why because when I woke up, it faded and all I could remember was that it had been unsettling. The next day, Fab and I stalked all your haunts in South Florida.”
I told him about how it had started with a conversation with Didier about his not showing for a meeting. “I couldn’t get it out of my head that you’d never do that. When we got back home, out of options, we put the word out to our street snitches. It came down to a man named Doodad with a photographic memory. Which reminds me: about your hellhole in the Alley…” I poked him in the side. “Met Toady. Miss him?”
Brad shook his finger at me, mock sternness on his face. “Toady is devastated.” His lips quirked. “He finally found the love of his life, and the woman in question is hot for a furr-a-nor. Heard you’d been out there, so I called to tell him I was alive. He could not have cared less; whined through the short phone call about Her Frenchness. Some drivel about her breaking his heart gently.” He shook his head. “Knowing Fabiana like I do, she’d either not take his call or hang up on him. You,” he stressed, “were the one on the phone, running a con on the old guy.”
Hurricane in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 10) Page 26
