Psycho in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 15)

by Deborah Brown

  Fab appeared at my side.

  “Make sure you get the place secured,” Officer Jackson said. “With any luck, the party is over and they won’t be back until the next invite goes out.”

  “I overheard Marjorie tell Didier that the kids were on some kind of four-day break from school and would be going back tomorrow.”

  “That’s good to know. If I have any more questions, I know how to contact you.” Officer Jackson crossed the patio to talk to his partner, who’d finished talking to Didier.

  “You might want to suggest to your client that he get a caretaker,” I said to Fab. “And not one of us. The mess? We better not be expected to clean it up.”

  The dirty look Fab gave me told me the answer was no. “I called Cook, and he’s sending a cleaning crew. My client had the nerve to say that the cops descending on his property was my fault. Before I could stop myself, I told him off. Suggested that he be grateful I didn’t have to call the coroner and let him know that it wasn’t easy getting rid of dead-person stink.”

  “You’re usually so kiss-assy with these entitled clients of yours.”

  “Do you have to put it that way? I half-expected him to threaten not to pay.” She blew out a frustrated sigh. “I’d send Toady to collect. And the bill would be triple. It wouldn’t be a civilized office call either—I’d suggest that Toady catch Knight off guard someplace and scare the you-know-what out of him.”

  “I love it when steam comes out your ears.”

  “As long as it doesn’t dry out my hair.” She flicked her fingers through her long mane.

  I laughed. “Where did Creole go?”

  “He went next door and gave the owners of the cars parked out front five minutes to move them or else they can cough up the three-hundred-dollar fee to reclaim them from the impound lot. I told him I’d move them myself and got an evil glare. Said I was going to tell on him to you.”

  “Bet that scared him.” I tugged on her, steering her away from beer cans and around some empty liquor bottles. “What happened to the guy who passed out in the bushes?” I looked over to where we’d left him.

  “Why are you asking me?” she huffed. “He’s not there now.” She scanned the entire yard. “Seems like a happy outcome to me.”

  “Now what?”

  “We check on Creole’s progress in emptying the driveway. Wait for Cook and crew, and then we can leave.” Fab snapped her fingers for me to keep up as we headed back into the house, mindful of where we stepped.

  Creole stood in the driveway, directing a driver so he wouldn’t sideswipe the car next to him. Several guys walked up the driveway from the street, not making eye contact as they got behind the wheels of their respective cars and maneuvered their way out.

  “Is there something we should be doing?” I asked Didier.

  “We’ll supervise, which means we can stand right here.”

  The last of the cars was just pulling out of the driveway when Cook’s wife showed in a minivan with three college-age kids in tow. Everyone piled out, hands filled with cleaning supplies. Fab intercepted them, engaging in a short chat with the missus before handing her the key.

  “Ready?” Fab asked over her shoulder as she headed to the SUV. She paused and turned. “Madison’s buying lunch—where should we go?”

  “That’s low of you. I suggest you bill it to your client, along with charges for all our services.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fab left the choice of where to eat to the guys. The vote was unanimous for Jake’s. Didier wanted to shoot pool. Creole mentioned dancing, and I rolled my eyes. I laughed, imagining that his toes winced when he threw out the suggestion, picturing the quarter-size dance floor, me standing on Creole’s feet as we maneuvered around the basketball arcade machine.

  Fab flew into the driveway and around the back, honking at Junker, who was bent over, digging through watering cans in the back of a pickup and squeezing the woman standing next to him down to her best and final price. He waved his fist.

  As we trooped through the back door, Cook was nowhere in sight. His stand-in had donned headphones and was dancing around as he put up one plate of food after another. The stools at the bar were filled two-deep. Doodad had his back turned, restocking inventory, while Kelpie entertained the regulars, pouring beer from the tap and sailing it down the countertop. One tipped over the edge. The man caught the glass before it hit the floor, but he ended up wearing the contents down the front of his pants.

  “Sorry Gip, this one’s on me.” Kelpie shook her assets, an ear-splitting grin on her face. The regulars laughed, clapping Gip on the back.

  Two burly men sitting at the reserved table out on the deck caught my attention. The sign on the table said, “Don’t sit here.” Not sure how much clearer it could be. I’d deal with them once I put in our food order. I turned and followed Fab back into the kitchen.

  On my way out to the deck to evict the poachers, I stopped at the bar and waved at Kelpie. “Margarita.” I mimed tipping back a drink.

  “Hey, boss.” Kelpie picked up a drink off the back counter, handing it to me. “Doodad needs to speak to you before you leave. He’s checking on the men in the conference room.”

  Gamblers in the house. The rules were play all the cards you want but no money on the table, which would keep us from being shut down. It was an exclusive, invitation-only bunch, and thus there’d never been any trouble.

  I stepped out on the deck, picking up the sign and rubbing it on the side of my pants, then making a show of reading it and dropping it back in the middle of the table.

  The two burly bookends stared at me, What the… glares on their faces. Both were muscled, with black hair slicked back, chains hanging out of their jeans pockets and decorating the sides of their motorcycle boots. I’d guess they came with the two spit-shined, gleaming Harleys parked out front.

  Most people would step back, stuttering an apology, but I’d developed an immunity to glares and over-sized men who growled.

  “We’re waiting on the boss,” one said, flashing a smile that would make most people flinch. “Doodad—yeah, that’s his name—told us to wait out here.” His friend’s blue eyes bored into me.

  “Are you now?” I grinned, certain that would annoy them, and it worked. “Perhaps I can help you.”

  “We’ll wait,” the same man said with disdain.

  Fab came up behind me, poking her head over my shoulder. “What’s going on?”

  “These two are waiting for the boss man. I’m going to go find him. Please don’t shoot either of them while I’m gone.” I winked at Fab.

  Doodad rushed though the doorway before I could take a step. “Drink refills anyone?” he asked, slightly out of breath.

  “Yes, and get rid of these two,” the man who’d done most of talking said. “This one is abnormally attached to this table.” He pointed to me.

  “You can’t read.” I flicked my finger toward the sign.

  “This is Wolf and Blade,” Doodad cut in. “We’re winding up negotiations on an event they’re planning.” He turned, stuck his head through the doorway, and whistled, holding up his fingers in a code only Kelpie could decipher.

  “Why are you sharing details with her?” Wolf barked, crossing his arms, his biceps completely covering his chest.

  “I’m the owner, Madison.” I squeezed behind the table, sitting on the bench and patting the seat beside me. “This is my bodyguard, Fab.”

  Blade, the quiet one, eyed Fab up and down and, based on the twitch of his lips, liked what he saw.

  Fab glared, and Blade grinned.

  Wolf stuck out his hand. Noticing my lack of response, he stuck out his knuckles instead, and I reciprocated.

  Kelpie twirled her way out to the deck, leaning over as she set the beers down, not the least bit reticent about offering a close-up of what she had stashed in that tight top of hers. Neither man looked away until she stood up.

  “No wonder this place is full of men,” Fab mumbled.


  I craned my head for a better view of the interior of the bar, not having previously taken a head count based on gender, but now that she mentioned it, only a couple of the hardcore female regulars were sitting at the bar. Anna and her friend had staked out stools in front of the game machines at the far end of bar, trying to maneuver a drink in one hand and a controller in the other and losing.

  Doodad cleared his throat. “Wolf’s club is renting the entire place to hold their semi-annual meeting. It will be on a Saturday, and we’ll open to the public by mid-afternoon.” At my raised brow, he added, “There’s a room rental fee, in addition to the food and bar bill. It’s another way Jake’s can branch out.”

  “I like the words ‘money-making opportunity,’” I said.

  “What kind of…” Fab started. She hadn’t taken a seat and had chosen instead to lean against the wall.

  “Wolf,” Creole hailed from the doorway and nodded to Blade. He introduced Didier, and they pushed a couple of tables together to make room for all of us.

  Creole slid in next to me and hooked his arm around my neck, pulling me close and kissing the top of my head.

  Wolf raised his eyebrow. “You’ve got a handful there.”

  “And I’m loving every minute of it.” He kissed me again.

  Didier pulled Fab into a chair beside him. She resisted at first because it wasn’t the prime seat for a quick exit.

  “You three know one another?” I asked. “That’s a good recommendation. He’s holding a meeting here for his…” I realized I hadn’t asked and Fab had gotten cut off.

  “Motorcycle club,” Wolf responded.

  “Club.” Fab snickered. “Should have known that pitch sounded too good to come without complications.”

  “We’re not some thug group. We’ve got a good rep and raise a lot of money for charity,” Wolf answered.

  Whistles, cat calls, and shouts of “hit her” drifted through the patio doors. Heads turned to see what was happening inside—two women fighting on the dance floor. They had their arms wrapped around each other’s torsos and were turning in circles, sumo style.

  I pressed my fingers over my eyes and exhaled. Then tried to make eye contact with Doodad, whose face became a blank mask before he turned away, hands shoved in his pockets.

  “Would you like me to break it up?” Fab drew her Walther. “I didn’t get to shoot anything this morning.” At my incredulous look, she added, “I’ll put the bullets in the ceiling. It’s calmed the crowds before.”

  I shrugged and shook my head—might as well let it play out. My first clue that some ruckus had been planned ought to have been a full bar on a weekday. Damn the little hairs on my neck for not giving me a warning.

  The fight lasted for several minutes, during which all the men had their eyes glued on the women, thoroughly entertained. Finally, one collapsed on her back, and the other swooned across her. After a moment, the top woman got up, extending a hand and helping the other woman to her feet.

  The room erupted in clapping, wolf whistles, and shouts of “kiss and make up.” Even the guys on the deck clapped.

  The winner shot her fist in the air, curtseying awkwardly to the crowd, then turned to the other woman. They shook hands and hugged.

  “I probably should’ve offered to break up the melee, but it was kind of hot,” Wolf said.

  The guys nodded in agreement.

  “Humph,” Didier grunted after getting an elbow in his side.

  “Kelpie is not fired but close,” I said to Doodad.

  “But, boss…” Doodad’s eyes implored. Was he whining? “No one got hurt, and it’s a money maker.” He flourished his hand. “Look around, standing room only.”

  “How did you get the word out?” Didier asked, clearly intrigued.

  “A few phone calls, ‘fight’ whispered in hushed tones, and phones are ringing off the hook.” Doodad’s cheeks flushed.

  It sounded unbelievable, but I knew it was true.

  “Even the old guys came out of their den. I bet they took wagers.” Doodad pointed to the opposite side of the bar, where the poker boys were lined up.

  “You’re leaving out the best part—the cops show up.” I nodded toward the front door.

  Kevin, in his work uniform, strode over the threshold and straight out to the deck. He dragged a chair across the concrete, sitting next to Wolf and acknowledging him and Blade with a nod.

  I guess I didn’t know everyone in town.

  “Heard there was another fight,” Kevin said. “Sorry I missed it.” He wiped away a non-existent tear.

  “If you hadn’t taken the long way when you got the call, you might have someone to arrest,” I said.

  The guys laughed.

  “No one got hurt,” Wolf informed him. “The entertainment was enjoyed by all. Maybe not those two.” He pointed to me and Fab.

  “Would you like a drink?” I asked Kevin.

  “Are you bribing a uniformed officer?”

  “Not this time.” I motioned to Doodad. “Signal Kelpie for a Coke. I haven’t learned the finger sign language yet. I only know one, and that won’t get me anything.”

  Fab was the only one to laugh.

  I smiled at her.

  The busboy rolled a cart of food up to the door, and Kelpie handed her bar tray to Doodad, who set Kevin’s soda in front of him.

  “What are you eating?” Kelpie nudged Kevin and got back a grunt. “Either you’re hungry or not,” she huffed. I didn’t hear what he ordered, but she took off in the direction of the kitchen.

  Business talk was tabled while the guys exchanged stories about what they’d been doing since they last ran into one another.

  Fab reached across the table and clinked the rim of her glass against mine. “Thank you for shaking down the neighbor.”

  “It wasn’t me. It was Didier, and he rocked it.” I picked up a spoon and banged it on the table. “Almost forgot. Round of applause for hottie of the day.” I pointed to Didier. “He handled that snooty Marjorie Ross like a pro.”

  Didier’s cheeks heated up, and his lips twitched despite his glare.

  Everyone clapped, including Wolf and Blade, both questioning what happened.

  Creole hit the highlights of the morning, filling them in on the drunken college partiers and how one ended up going to the hospital. “Got a text that he’s going to be okay.”

  “You should text your client,” I told Fab. “That should calm his shorts.”

  Fab laughed. “If only I could say it that way. You could call as my assistant, but then he’d probably never hire me again.”

  My attention switched to Creole when I overheard Blade asking him what he was up to these days. It surprised me that he knew Creole had retired from the police force.

  “I’m in hot demand.” Creole grinned, satisfaction with life showing in his eyes. “You know that section of the docks that burned down? Well, Didier here pressured me to sign on as General Contractor, since the man who filled the role moved north to live with his son.”

  “I consider myself lucky to have a man I trust on the project.” Didier clapped Creole on the shoulder.

  Creole and I exchanged glances, and he telegraphed that there was more on the subject that we’d be talking about later.

  “Got a friend that’s interested in space for an arcade down there,” Blade said. “He talked to someone, must have been you,” he said to Didier.

  “Thought it was a great idea,” Didier acknowledged. “Once we get final approvals, the spaces will be ready to move in. I’m striving to make the area a go-to fun place to bring family and friends. With any luck, it will also entice tourists to stop on their way to Key West.”

  Cook’s nephew set down Kevin’s taco plate, along with another Coke.

  “Great job,” I mouthed to him.

  “You arrest anyone lately?” Fab asked Kevin.

  “It’s been quiet here and at The Cottages.” Kevin laughed, a huge fan of his own humor, toasting the two of us wit
h his soda.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Today was a first. Fab and I both had appointments, and we each wanted the other’s company, but neither meeting could be rescheduled. I flipped out. I pointed out that, since her meeting was with Brick Famosa—her oldest and most problematic client, and that was putting it kindly—it could be rescheduled. And also asked why she cared if Brick was irked with waiting since she was giving him the boot. Wait until he found out that tidbit. There was no way she was going by herself. But she didn’t want to change the appointment, so I tipped off Didier.

  Unfortunately, he also had a meeting, and when he arrived home last night, he told her in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t to go by herself. Either move the appointment time or cancel. Then he dragged her up the stairs as though she were a naughty child, lecturing her about her safety. I’d wondered at what point she’d erase the big grin off her face that I noticed as they reached the top.

  That morning, as I got to the bottom of the stairs, Fab came out of the kitchen dressed in a black sheath dress that showed off a tummy bump. If you didn’t know better, you would think she was several months pregnant. When she’d called to reschedule, Brick agreed to move up the time, leaving off any snide comments.

  “One of these months, you’re going to have to produce a baby,” I said, twirling around. “How do I look? Casual yet business is what I’m going for.” I’d chosen a black sleeveless dress with low heels, wanting to make a good impression in my lunch meeting with a social worker friend of GC’s to discuss how to maneuver through the system.

  She gave me a thumbs up. “Thank you for calling Didier. I appreciate it. I should have just asked him, but I know he hates everything Brick.”

  “Didier’s probably at least partially disappointed he can’t go. He had fun on your last job.”

  Fab sighed. “It was stupid to even entertain the idea of going by myself. I’ve had plenty of time to think, and when your client scares the heck out of you, it’s time to put an end to the relationship. There were a couple of times on my last job for the man that I thought he might actually kill me.”