Trouble in Paradise

by Brown, Deborah

“Do you think I’ll ever use either one of you again?” Brick raged.

  “Who the hell else would work for you?” I leaned in and yelled in his face. “You’re lucky I try not to kill people.”

  Fab reached out, pulled me back and pushed me towards the stairs. “Breathe,” she whispered. “Are you okay?”

  “That smug smile of his pushed me over the edge.” I followed Fab down the stairs. “It scared me to think I was one breath away from pulling the trigger. Somehow I regained my sanity. Thanks for getting me out of there before I did something stupid, like shoot him.”

  “I’d never let that happen. Just so you know, I told you it was loaded but I removed the cartridge.”

  “You should’ve stayed in the car,” I said. “That way you’d still have Brick’s account.” Good thing I wasn’t driving, I’d be tempted to back into one of his expensive cars. Oops.

  “And miss him squirm in his chair? Not a chance. I kinda hoped he’d pee himself.”

  “Thank your friend Wally for the last minute pick-up.” I put the duffle bag in the cargo area. “I can return it tomorrow.”

  “Wally owes me. He’s a punk, but has an amazing gun collection. Keep it. Take it to the gun range and get more comfortable with shooting a rifle, you know, just in case.” Fab revved the engine, leaving skid marks flying out of the dealership.

  “Another good idea of yours. The range has a rifles only class. I think I’ll sign up.”

  “What are you laughing at?” Fab asked.

  “I’m surprised that when Porn Queen jumped up, I didn’t pee on myself.”

  “It would’ve been okay… we’re in your ride.”

  CHAPTER 31

  “Do you want a beer?” Brad asked, walking through the backyard and into the house.

  “You don’t knock anymore?”

  “Why should I? Nobody else does.” He yelled from inside the house, “Good gossip for you!”

  “You never gossip.” It was unusual for Brad to stop by and I was happy it would just be the two of us.

  “This is an exception.” Brad sauntered out and lounged on a chaise. “Who do you think I saw on the docks behind The Croc? Your boyfriend interrogating a drunk fisherman. You should tell him he might get more answers if he left the silk shorts at home. You know, dress down when questioning the low-lifes.”

  “I like shorts on him. Gets me in the mood to do other things.”

  “Stop or I’m leaving.” Brad put his fingers in his ears. “Anyway, not a minute later, Creole comes out of nowhere, puts a foot to Zach’s ass and sends him flying into the water. Zach swam to the stairs, but Creole pulled out his gun and yells at him stay put. Called him an ‘mf’ and I laughed my head off.”

  “What was that all about?” I feigned ignorance, knowing damn well what it was about.

  “Not very concerned about whether your boyfriend is dead or not.”

  “Drama queen.” I rolled my eyes. “If he were dead, those would’ve been your first words.”

  “Creole crouched on the docks and unleashed an angry foul tirade on him. I’m pissed I caught only a few words. The guy cleaning the boat one slip down could only remember all the curse words.”

  “Did Creole shoot him or not?” I asked. At some point, Zach would probably force me to choose.

  Brad took a swig of his beer, “Oh hell no. Creole’s parting shot was, ‘Don’t ‘f’ with me again or I’ll shoot you for real.’ Then he clicked off a couple of rounds, close to where Zach was treading water. Do you know what’s going on?”

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Brad said as he took out his phone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “I’m calling Creole, telling him you’re in danger. Five bucks says he’s here in less than five minutes.”

  Brad was right; Creole would drop everything or send someone else. “What are you, in junior high school? I don’t know everything.”

  “Tell me or I’m calling. Test my theory, collect my money. Let’s make it fifty,” Brad gloated.

  I sighed. “Zach went to Mother and told her that Creole was drug-dealing scum and should be kicked to the curb.”

  “I thought they grew up together, childhood friends. Did Zach ever talk to Creole? And weren’t they both friends of Elizabeth’s?”

  “Ask one of them your questions. I encouraged Zach and Creole to talk to one another and they both ignored me. Why aren’t you concerned about the drug-dealing accusations?”

  “Remember Stanhope the Third?” Brad asked.

  I nodded. Stanhope and Brad were friends in college. I’d had a crush on him in high school. When Brad found out I had a ‘get rid of my virginity’ scheme, Stanhope ignored me. Later, I found out a ‘no banging my sister’ edict had been issued.

  “Stanhope’s DEA. One night I docked in Lauderdale and watched Stanhope and your boy Creole and a dozen other men get cuffed and hauled off the docks.” Brad polished off the beer. “Turned out to be the biggest marijuana seizure in South Miami history. Next morning, Stanhope and Creole were both laughing it up in the same place where they were arrested the night before. Later I ran into Stanhope, and he said he’d just gotten in from a cruise. Then cryptically, he said I could read about his exploits in the news, although he wouldn’t get a byline.”

  “Are you going to put in a good word with Mother for Creole?” I asked.

  Brad made a run to the kitchen and came back with another beer. “Creole’s not going anywhere. The stories would have to be true for her to take a hard line and they’re not. How long after he shines up his story that Mother makes him squirm and gets every single detail, down to his underwear size?”

  “He could use my help. I’m the only one who could make her believe my half-truths as whole truth.” I laughed. “You sucked at story telling.”

  Brad pulled me up off the chaise and we walked poolside, sat and put our feet in the water. “Why did you never get in more trouble when she found out your stories were all b.s.? I think she was proud in some weird way of hers when you pulled one over on her. That is, after she got over being mad. She told me once that even when she was pretty sure it was a bold-faced lie, there was that ten percent chance that you could be telling the truth.”

  “I’m still smart enough to know the difference between trouble and big trouble. Remember that time she went to Charleston and I threw the party? I confessed before the police made a house call.”

  “I have fond memories of that party. I had the kind of fun a man likes to have.” Brad laughed.

  “Man?” I laughed. “We were stupid teenagers.”

  “What’s for dinner?” Brad asked, changing the subject.

  “Your choices are take out or a restaurant.”

  “Does that slug Jake deliver?”

  “Watch this.” I picked up my phone. “Hi, Jake, my brother’s here and wants dinner.”

  “Do you ever cook?” Jake asked.

  “Hmmm… Flag Day… special occasions like that,” I said.

  On the other end of the line, Jake said, “It’ll be there in a half hour. I’ll send a pitcher of margaritas and some assorted bottles of that dark foreign beer Brad likes.”

  “You’re the best!” We hung up.

  Brad looked impressed. “You’re fitting in down here. I think Elizabeth would be ecstatic. I just wished you had more sense than to rent to the likes of the Shiners.”

  “I didn’t. We asked around about those two. They are serious scammers. They leech on to any new landlord in town. Everyone else knows better.”

  “Had a heart-to-heart with Kibble a few days ago,” Brad said. “Told him he’d better not even look at you, and pack his shit, and hit the road. If he was still at The Cottages when I got back from this next trip, me, Frank and the boys would be there to move them out. Throw his stuff in the street and light a match.”

  “As in Frank, your crew guy that closely resembles a gorilla? I bet Kibble didn’t take that well.” I didn’t
let on how much Kibble scared me; I didn’t want anything to happen to Brad. With any luck the Shiners would pack and go onto their next scam.

  “Left Kibble red-faced and sputtering but he didn’t say a word. Just wanted to give you a heads up. I made it very clear if he wasn’t careful he’d end up as chum.”

  “Do you think Kibble would attract the kind of fish you need to sell?” I asked, laughing.

  “If we fed him to the sharks I doubt anyone would even file a missing persons report, not even that train wreck of a wife. Keep a low profile, I’ll be back in a week and he’ll be long gone.”

  “Thanks, bro. Still looking out for me after all these years.”

  The doorbell rang. “Good, food’s here,” Brad said already making his way into the kitchen to answer the door.

  CHAPTER 32

  Opening my eyes, it was still dark outside, and my phone rang incessantly. Who needed a ride home from the jail and why can’t these people get arrested during the day?

  “Is this Madison Westin?” an annoying female voice asked.

  It wasn’t the jail calling, no robocall asking me if I’d accept the collect call. “What do you want this early in the morning?” Starting tonight I’d be shutting off my phone when I went to bed.

  “I’m calling for Apple Manning. She was brought into Cove Hospital and would like to see you.”

  I sat up more quickly than I would have thought. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s going to be fine and that’s all I can say to a non-family member. Here she is.”

  “Madison please, please help me,” Apple mumbled. “She’s here and she’s going to lock me up. Come right now or it will be too late.” Apple started to cry. “I’m here because of you.”

  Apple was terrified of her mother, always referring to her as ‘she’ or ‘her.’

  A female voice in the background yelled, “Hang up that phone!”

  * * *

  I lived on one side of the Overseas Highway and the hospital was located on the other side. This early in the morning, traffic was non-existent.

  The inside hospital lights were dimmed. I went to the nurse’s station and lucked out; Mac’s drinking friend Shirl was on duty. They both frequented The Boys’ Club together.

  I asked Mac once, “Is copping a feel considered cheating?”

  “It’s hard to get the money in those tiny G-strings without your fingers straying,” Mac said, with a straight face.

  “Hey, Shirl. I got a call from Apple Manning. I know it’s not visiting hours, but can I sneak in her room?”

  “Penny, one of the CNAs, called you. We feel sorry for Apple, even if she is a hot mess. Apple’s fourth door down on the right, but let me warn you, her watchdog mother is in the waiting room. She’s awaiting paperwork giving her guardianship over her daughter. If she catches you in there, you got there without any help from anyone who works here, got it?”

  “Why is she here?” I asked.

  “Does Apple have a pimp? She got the crap kicked out of her and she’s not saying a word. Told the sheriff she didn’t remember anything. Hogwash. There’s nothing wrong with that girl’s memory.”

  “Pimp? As far as I know she panhandles.”

  “Just sayin’. Working girls know better than to rat out their pimp,” Shirl said.

  I sighed and rolled my head around, trying to ease the tension. I’d rather be doing a jail run. I scoped out the hall before opening the door to Apple’s room. She looked like crap. Her face was swollen with dark bruises, two black eyes, and swollen lips; a large piece of her hair was missing in the front. Someone had worked her over pretty good.

  “Apple,” I whispered and touched her shoulder lightly.

  Her eyes flew open. “Get me out of here.” She grabbed my arm. “Hurry she’s… please hurry… she’s going to lock me up again.”

  “What happened?” I asked. They had done a good job of cleaning her up, her hair looked washed, and she didn’t smell.

  “Two guys snuck up on me while I was asleep. They dragged me out of my box and beat the hell out of me. Told me that’s what happens when I talk too much and, if they had to come back, I’d disappear. They forced me to say ‘Thank you for the friendly warning.’ Then they kicked my box in the street and threw my belongings in the alley.” She started to cry.

  I patted her shoulder lightly. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you.”

  “This time,” Apple stuttered, “I won’t get out of the hospital. She threatened it would be a long term program.”

  I handed her a Kleenex and the door opened.

  “What in the hell are you doing in here?” A petite, dark haired, older woman walked in and spoke with the authority of a general. “Who are you anyway?”

  “Madison Westin, a friend of Apple’s. I came to check on her, make sure she’s doing okay.”

  “Tina Manning,” she introduced. “Someone like you is friends with a homeless drunk?” She looked me over in my jean skirt and white zip sweat shirt. “I remember now… wasn’t she involved with your husband?” She motioned me to come out into the hall.

  This wouldn’t be an easy situation to finesse and I didn’t have a clue of what to say.

  “Apple is my daughter and I’m here to make sure she gets the care she needs. I think it would be a good idea if you left.”

  “Your daughter is also a grown woman and would like a say in the type of care she will be getting. I’m just here to do a little hand holding.” The woman was intense. I didn’t want to be involved, but Apple was in that bed because of information she sold me. I didn’t want to help Apple back to her life on the streets nor did I want to see her end up in a mental hospital. I was wedged tightly between a rock and another rock.

  “Do you know what ‘none of your business’ means?”

  “I’ve heard that phrase a time or two and generally ignore it.” I smiled, thinking I was funny. She clearly did not.

  Tina threatened, “I’m calling hospital security.” I stopped her.

  “That won’t be necessary.” This situation needed Fab’s expertise. “Do you mind if I say good-bye?”

  “Yes I do. Leave and don’t contact her again. If you had any self-respect after she screwed your husband, you’d keep on walking.”

  My hand itched to make contact with her cheek but sense or something came over me and I walked away, past the nurse’s station where Shirl stood listening. I’m sure voices carried down the hall, as it was so quiet you could hear that damn pin. I motioned Shirl to follow with my finger.

  I knew Tina watched me leave. I turned the corner to the front reception area and waited off to the side. “Shirl,” I whispered as she rounded the corner.

  “I’ve known Tina Manning for a long time and you did good holding your own. It will take her a couple more hours before she gets the court order to remove Apple. And Apple isn’t strong enough to leave here on her own or she could sneak out the back door.”

  “If I want to come back, is there another entrance? I don’t want to walk by the waiting room.”

  “Mac tells me stories and I pretty much thought she made them up until now. You won’t shoot Tina will you?”

  “I didn’t bring my gun. But if Apple wants to leave I’m going to help her. I just need some assistance.”

  Shirl laughed. “Come in through the emergency entrance. They’re always busy down there and will never notice. Go through the double doors on the right and follow the signs. For this little favor, I get to meet Fab.”

  “Done. What the hell am I going to do with Apple? Her attackers destroyed her cardboard home, and I’m not sure I want to put her up. But a mental hospital? I don’t think so.”

  “I have an idea. Wendy from the local woman’s shelter is here. Why don’t I send her your way, and maybe the two of you can come up with an alternate plan that won’t keep you awake nights?”

  “You do that and I’ll arrange a girl’s dinner,” I said. So there could be a Plan C.

  “Last time you inv
ited Mac to dinner, she ended up at the funeral home.” Shirl laughed. “Next time there’s a shindig at Tropical Slumber, I’ll go.”

  I was speechless for a moment. “Dickie would like that.”

  Shirl showed me to the other side of the room and went to find Wendy. I sat on the edge of a chair, in a darkened corner of the main reception area.

  When Wendy from Mercy House rounded the corner, I jumped up. “So happy to see you.”

  “Shirl filled me in on the Apple Manning case. Those are two terrible choices, the street or a lock down ward. I do have a third option, if Apple agrees. We could move her immediately and her mother, without legal standing, couldn’t stop her daughter.” Wendy motioned me over to the coffee machine.

  “What are Apple’s options?” I shook my head when she offered me a paper cup.

  “Apple would need to sign herself into our detox center. It’s not the old hard core program where the person goes cold turkey. It’s a monitored slow withdrawal. In her case, because she’s been abusing alcohol for some time, to quit suddenly could land her back in the hospital. We wean her off the alcohol and, once she’s sober, she can be transferred out of the hospital and assigned a room at the shelter. There are plenty of programs to help her get her life back on track.”

  “Her mother can’t stop this?”

  “Mrs. Manning can try, but I don’t know of a local judge who’d yank someone out of a detox program, especially if no one was willing to swear she’s in need of mental health care. If we were to determine otherwise, then that would strengthen her mother’s case.”

  “I’ve been acquainted with Apple for a few years and my unprofessional opinion is that her problems stem mostly from alcohol abuse,” I said.

  “For those who are motivated, we have a reasonably high success rate. Normally, there is a screening process to determine Apple’s suitability for the program. In this case I can waive that requirement due to the circumstances. I’m almost certain that Apple isn’t an ideal candidate, but I’m willing to give it a try.”

  “That’s very nice of you, for two women you barely know.”