Trouble in Paradise

by Brown, Deborah

  “No one died,” I said, sitting down with him, telling the same story I told the Qs.

  “I know Kettle. She’s easily excitable.” Dickie shuddered. “Watusi’s very sweet and Raul is one of her regular customers. Don’t worry, Raul and I will cover for you. That way no one gets hurt.”

  “How was Cosmo Rich’s funeral?” I asked.

  “Medium turnout, nothing like your aunt. Mostly, Cosmo’s family and a rough crowd of fishermen and their families. They were on their best behavior, no fights this time. Back when the captain of the Diego died of a heart attack, every single guest showed up drunk, and when the first punch was thrown, we called the sheriff.”

  “What can you tell us about Cosmo’s body?” Fab asked.

  “He was in bad shape, but we knew that ahead of time. We got a heads up from a friend of Raul’s in the coroner’s office. It didn’t help that he’d been fish food for several days. He’s lucky he didn’t meet up with a shark. Had to be a closed casket. I tried but, even with my talent, nothing helped.” Dickie sighed.

  Fab, who had been wandering door to door looking into each of the viewing rooms, came up behind Dickie. “What did your coroner friend say exactly?”

  Dickie jumped. “Broken ribs, shattered clavicle, cracked sternum, dislocated jaw and all the bones in his face were broken,” he stammered.

  “Any chance these injuries stem from his being in the water so long?” Fab asked.

  “It’s the coroner’s opinion that Cosmo had the spit beat out of him and was still alive when he was tossed to drown. There were a few minor injuries found that were post mortem.” Dickie kept one eye on Fab as she fidgeted around the room.

  I hoped that Tolbert hadn’t been told the grisly details. “Any talk at the funeral about suspects, or idle chat on what might have happened?”

  “They were tight lipped. Surprised me since that group gossips about everyone and anything. Raul and I think it was someone with a hate-on for Cosmo. A few people said the last they saw him, he was heading out on a trip and never saw him again.”

  Brad had said Cosmo didn’t have any enemies, but he must have had one. “If you hear anything at all, would you call me?”

  “Or you can call me,” Fab teased, staring at Dickie.

  Stop, I mouthed.

  Dickie recoiled in his chair. “Tolbert deserves a speedy arrest. He’s a good man and good for The Cove.”

  “What do you know about the Rich family?” I asked.

  “I didn’t know Cosmo. Raul and I wanted some wild parrots here at Tropical Slumber. We bought several from Tolbert, then he came over and helped us set up feeding stations. We’ve been friends ever since.”

  “I’d like to have a couple of parrots at my house,” I said. “But I don’t want as many as Tolbert. What if they’re like cats – you get one, blink and there’s twenty?”

  Necco and Astro came careening around the corner. The two Golden Retrievers skidded to a stop and sat next to Dickie, tongues out panting.

  “They look great, Dickie.” I scratched both their heads. Both dogs had been abandoned, left locked in an apartment to die. The local rescue girl was overwhelmed at the time, so I called Dickie. He jumped at the chance. Lucky dogs.

  “The best day was when they came to live with us. We had just lost our German Shepherd and it was just what we needed. They’re the best Frisbee players.”

  I stood up. “You need a favor, call anytime.” Fab had stationed herself at the front door, her hand on the doorknob.

  Dickie suddenly waved his arms. “I have exciting news. Raul and I just got approved for a liquor license and we’re having a new Grand Re-Opening party. I’d like you to come and bring your friends. It’ll be our night to show off what we can do for your loved ones. We’ve even prepared a slide show.”

  “No way,” Fab hissed behind my back.

  “Of course, I’ll come. And I’ll tell my friends.” I almost choked on my agreement. Bring people? How would I make that happen?

  “Let’s be clear, Dickie.” Fab pointed her finger. “You also owe me. If I accidentally shoot someone dead, can I drag the body in here and have you cremate it, no questions asked?”

  What little color Dickie had drained from his face. “I… uh…”

  “No you can’t.” I gave Fab a push out the door. I turned to Dickie. “Thank you, I appreciate your help.”

  He closed the door, turned the lock, and threw two bolts. “He’s making sure you can’t get back in,” I said.

  “If I wanted in, I’d shoot the bolts off the door.” Fab made a trigger finger. “And one more thing, the answer is n-o.”

  “What’s the question?”

  “I’m not going to the party!”

  “Even if I use a favor?”

  Fab gave me a perturbed look. “You don’t have favors, you owe me!”

  CHAPTER 11

  My favorite tiki sports bar, Jake’s, is lit up with large multi-colored Christmas lights year round, serves Mexican food and hamburgers and has a small view of Intracoastal water. Big screen televisions are always tuned to sports, including one exclusive to NASCAR on the weekends.

  I spotted my date sitting in the corner. He looked like a thug in his well-fitting black jeans, t-shirt, and several days’ facial growth.

  Zach pulled me onto his lap. “You look great.” He slid his hand under my skirt.

  He didn’t care what I wore as long as he could stick his hands wherever he wanted. I covered his eyes. “What color is my skirt?”

  “I know what you’re thinking. You think I don’t know the answer. Red skirt, white t-shirt top, that tight camisole thing, no bra and that lacy underwear I like.”

  “You look like the bad boy that you are.” I kissed him hard on the lips.

  Jake sat a margarita down on the table. “Made it just the way you like it.”

  “We’ll both have our usual,” Zach told him. “Take your time.”

  Jake’s a scruffy dude, who rocks a pair of shorts, with his year round tan. He packs, and has a 12-gauge Browning shotgun conveniently located behind the bar. He originally started out as partners with my aunt, inheriting her half when she died. Elizabeth trusted him and so did I. He gossiped on a need to know basis.

  “What have you been doing that you’re not supposed to be doing?” Zach pulled open the top of my t-shirt, taking inventory.

  “Kiss me first. And a good one.”

  He teased my lips with his tongue. Nibbling, pressing our bodies closer. “So tell me already.”

  “Game of darts first? I win, I’ll tell you after dinner.”

  “You’re going to kill sex aren’t you?” Zach groaned. “What if I win, which I will?”

  “I’ll tell you after sex.” I jumped off his lap. “I promised you my sneaking around days are over. I’ll bore you with details.” We walked over to the corner of the bar, where Jake recently relocated the dart board after getting hit in the shoulder with a steel tip dart.

  The only game I came close to winning with Zach was darts, and even with my bumping his arm he still won by several points.

  Two games later, Zach took no mercy and beat me both times. “Look, dinner is ready.” I pointed to the table. “I’ll have another margarita if you’re driving me home.”

  “Careful, I’ll take advantage of you.” Zach picked me up, walked me backwards, and sat me in my chair. “Eat fast and let’s go make out on the beach.”

  “Let’s skip the beach and go roll around in my big king size bed.” I slipped out of my flip-flop and ran my foot up his inner thigh.

  “Just the two of us? I want you to tell me Fab moved out.”

  “Fab moved out.” She wasn’t at home when I left, and I crossed my fingers she wouldn’t be there when we arrived.

  * * *

  Zach parked in my space in the driveway; Fab’s car was nowhere in sight. The only light in the house came from the living room.

  “Race you up the stairs,” I challenged as I closed the front door,
pulled my t-shirt over my head and threw it at him.

  Zach threw his shirt at my back as we raced up the stairs.

  Our clothes ended up strewn all over the bedroom floor in record time. He picked me up, and dropped me onto the bed, crawling on top.

  * * *

  Faint rays of light shone through the bedroom window in the dark morning sky; my favorite time of day when all is quiet and you can hear the birds talking. Jazz lay sound asleep in the chair I used for reading and looking out the window.

  “What’s new?” Zach asked, propped up on a pillow, on his side, staring at me.

  “Good morning.” I wrapped my leg across his butt. “I got my concealed permit. I’m working on a private investigator license and had my first case.”

  Zach lay stone still, his deep blue eyes turning to icicles. “You’re not kidding are you?”

  “I said I wouldn’t sneak around anymore. I’m hoping since I’m telling you about it, you’re still going to be in-like with me when this conversation is over, and I’m thinking more sex.”

  “How about mentioning all of this before it’s a done deal. What kind of case?” he growled.

  “I was hired to find a missing urn of ashes and I did.”

  He blinked and started laughing so hard I thought he’d roll off the bed. “As in a dead person?”

  “It’s not that funny.” I kicked him in the butt with my heel.” I found said urn in record time.”

  “Who hired you for that crap case?”

  This was about to get ugly. “Brick. I’m working under his license. A friend of his misplaced their mother and I wasn’t about to turn down my first job.”

  “That criminal thug Famosa?” he yelled.

  “It’s your fault. You’d never let me work under your license.”

  “You didn’t give me a chance to turn you down. You never asked. I don’t want a girlfriend that wears a gun to bed.” Zach pulled me on top of him.

  “This girlfriend saved your life once. Besides, my Glock’s in the bedside drawer next to your head.” It was Zach’s lucky day when I showed up uninvited one time, just ahead of a newly released felon who wanted to kill him. It was the first time I’d ever shot someone and I could still see the creep lying dead on the floor.

  “I’m not worried you’re going to shoot yourself. I’m worried someone will shoot you. What did your mother say?”

  “If you tell her first, I’m going to hurt you.”

  “The first time you get hurt, I’m killing you.” Zach wrapped his fingers around my red curls.

  “So we’re not breaking up?” I rolled off him, into the tangle of sheets.

  “Maybe,” Zach pinned me with his leg. “Do you have a good explanation for lying to my face, telling me Fab moved out? I can hear her walking around downstairs.”

  “You hear good for someone with regular size ears,” I teased, tugging on his ear lobe.

  “Making me laugh doesn’t mean I like what the hell you’re doing.”

  “You said ‘tell me Fab moved out,’ so I did.”

  Zach got out of bed. “That’s something your mother would say,” he said as I watched his naked butt start towards the bathroom.

  “How about I wash your back?”

  “You’re so manipulative.” He came back and scooped me off the bed.

  * * *

  “Where’s Grover?” Zach asked.

  I handed him a bottle of that nauseous green juice he likes to drink in the mornings. “I reunited him with his owner. Jazz and I miss him.” I told him about Tolbert Rich.

  “Brick’s firing you today,” Zach told me.

  “No he’s not,” I said calmly as I stirred some coffee mix into a cup.

  “He owes me.” Zach was adamant.

  “Did you save his life? No? Well I did. Before you get me fired, you might want to think about what I can buy for a twelve-pack of cheap beer.”

  “Are you threatening me?” His lip twitched in an almost smile. “Wait. Back up. You saved his life? That would’ve gone around town like wildfire.”

  “Not when your brother is Casio and your best friend Harder is investigating the case.” I didn’t bother to water down the details, and I added as much drama as I could on the spur of the moment.

  Zach pulled me to him. “Good job. Any case you think might be a problem, call me.”

  “Wow. That’s foreplay talk.” I jerked him by his shirt, kissed him hard, pushing him against the kitchen island.

  He picked me up, my legs wrapped around his waist, setting me on the countertop.

  “People eat there!” Fab yelled, walking into the kitchen.

  CHAPTER 12

  Fab skidded into a parking space in front of The Bakery Café and I pulled in next to her. People turned to stare. “Get our usual table before someone else does,” she told me. “Try to stay out of trouble.”

  The last table on the sidewalk was the perfect spot for people watching.

  “You’re served,” Tucker Davis announced, throwing a subpoena on the table.

  Tucker was the smarmiest lawyer in town, and defended the truly guilty. He had some sort of vague relationship with my aunt, which he felt made him entitled to everything she owned and, in the past, made it his mission to cheat me. Zach finally told Tucker that, if I ever even so much as stubbed my toe because of him, he’d neuter him with a pen knife.

  “What respectable lawyer serves his own papers?” I snickered.

  “I was looking forward to this, you pain in my ass.” Tucker glared.

  “What is this?” I perused the legal document demanding my appearance in his office for a deposition.

  “I’m the attorney for Gentry Swain. My client is suing you for injuries he sustained when you shot him.” Tucker’s new client was Brick’s wannabe shooter.

  I laughed. “I hope you get him off. Gentry walks out of jail and you’re standing there, enjoying your happy meet and greet. Then there will be two dead people.”

  “This is a slam dunk, you dumb bitch.”

  “You really are stupid if you think you’re going to defend the shooter of Brick Famosa and live. Good riddance,” I said, brushing my hands together.

  Fab set lattes and one pecan roll on the table. “Do you want me to shoot him?” she asked, tossing her chin in Tucker’s direction.

  “Bring it,” Tucker growled at Fab. “I’d love to see the both of you in prison.”

  “Do me a favor, Tucker.” I ripped the subpoena to pieces and threw them in his direction. “If you live long enough and we run into each other again, don’t speak to me and I’ll do the same.”

  “If you’re a no-show,” he wagged his finger, “I’ll have you arrested.” Tucker turned, tripped over a chair and then kicked it into the next table.

  “Can’t say it’s been nice knowing you,” I called after him.

  “What was that about?” Fab asked, cutting the roll in half.

  I eyed both sides of the roll. “I want that half.” I pointed. “Next time buy two. He’s repping Brick’s shooter.”

  “Tucker’s clients are all scurvy but one thing they have in common is that they have the money to pay his whopping fees. Does this guy?”

  “Ten cents, maybe.” My cell phone rang incessantly from the bottom of my purse, but I was able to answer it after digging it out.

  “This is Jake. I need 5K cash bail and a ride home from the Miami-Dade jail. I have the money to pay you back.”

  “I’m on my way.” I threw the phone back in my purse. “I’ll catch up with you later. Jake got in trouble, so I’m doing a jail run.” I grabbed my purse and latte and stuffed Fab’s half of the pecan roll in my purse.

  “At least he’s got the payback money and not the payment plan like Joseph. I want my roll back.”

  “You should know by this time to buy two.” I waved.

  * * *

  I could draw a picture of the jail Welcome Center in my sleep. The same sullen woman sat behind the counter from my last visit. As far as
I could tell, everyone got the same ‘you’re a dirt ball’ treatment. I handed her the cash, and took a seat in a plastic chair that had been bolted to the floor, facing the door that released inmates from the booking area to freedom.

  After much squirming around in my chair, babies crying, and family members fighting, the jail door opened for the eighteenth time and Jake exited looking tired.

  “I knew I could count on you.” Jake knuckled bumped me. “The guard had just tossed me a blue uniform which meant I was being transferred to max and I broke out in a cold sweat. Then my name got called.”

  “Why didn’t you call Arlo?” Arlo’s a bail bondsman, widely known as a sneaky bastard, with a break-your-legs reputation. He was slight of build but when he hit you with a lead pipe, you went down. He posted bail when no reputable company would take your call.

  “His interest rates are ridiculous, even for an hour. Besides, he’d blab it all over town. He’s a stupid girl that way.”

  The guard in the shack called and waved to Jake as we walked past. Police personnel were frequent customers at Jake’s. They tended to congregate in the far corner of the outside deck.

  “You okay?” I asked, once we passed the barbed wire twelve-foot fencing.

  “You’d think I’d get tired of jail. Someone tipped off the cops that I had a high stakes poker game going on in the back room.”

  We got into my SUV and I waited patiently while six sheriff cars exited the parking lot ahead of me. The first one already had its lights on and was racing down the street. Traffic on the streets of Miami wasn’t its usual honk, finger, and go mess, so I could concentrate on the conversation.

  “How long have you been doing that?” I’d heard whispers, but who cares about card games? Next thing you know the sheriffs will be busting the hookers out at the Bluebird Bar and Motel on the outskirts of town.