Madison Westin 02-Deception in Paradise

by Deborah Brown

  “Mother, that was a long time ago.” I looked at Dickie. “You need to get your sorry act together if you want Raul back.”

  “I’m sorry, Madison,” Dickie said. “I love Raul, and I’m trying to convince him I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “I’m not the one you need to convince.”

  “Honey, you should have told me. I would’ve been there for you.” Mother hugged me.

  I held up my hand. “Stop, Mother. Good luck, Dickie. If Raul forgives you, he’s truly an incredible man.” I felt bad for a man I hadn’t met. That was a lot of forgiveness to ask of a person.

  “This seems bad right now,” Mother told Dickie. “But with a good lawyer, I’m sure the charges can be plea bargained. The sex offender thing seems excessive.”

  “The district attorney is running for office next year. He’s taking a hard stance on crime,” Dickie said.

  “What does Tucker say about your case?” I asked.

  “He didn’t seem very optimistic.”

  “You should think about getting someone else,” I said.

  “I don’t know anyone else. Tucker scares me,” Dickie admitted. “Can you recommend anyone?”

  “I’ll call Cruz Campion,” I offered. “He’s a top criminal lawyer. If anybody can help you, it would be him.” I couldn’t resist the opportunity to stick it to Tucker Davis.

  “What about Tucker?” Dickie asked with a look of fear.

  “Trust me, you’re better off without Tucker,” I said. “Just because he’s well known around here doesn’t mean anyone would retain his services. Most of his clients are hardcore criminals.”

  “If you think Mr. Campion’s a better lawyer, then I would appreciate you calling him,” Dickie said. “Raul and I have worked hard to build our business, and if I ruin it, he’d never forgive me. I finally get that I have to stop being so stupid.”

  I picked up my cell phone. Cruz told me once that having a good criminal lawyer on speed dial would come in handy; I thought he was arrogant, but it turned out to be a good tip. “This is Madison Westin. If Mr. Campion’s not busy, may I speak with him?” I waited on hold only a minute or two.

  “What can I do for you, Madison Westin?”

  “I have a new client for you. Dickie Vanderbilt, the owner of Tropical Slumber Funeral Home, is in desperate need of a good lawyer. You told me yourself you’re the best.”

  “Yes, I am.” He laughed. “Gossip was rampant at the courthouse this morning when he was a no show.”

  “He’s here at my house now. Fab’s coming back to turn him into the jail. His current lawyer is Tucker Davis, but I convinced him you’re the superstar.”

  “Put him on the phone.”

  I handed Dickie the phone. “Here, Cruz wants to talk to you.”

  I walked into the kitchen, opened a drawer, and helped myself to two aspirin. “Would you like some?” I asked my mother.

  “I find Jack cures even my worst headache.” She reached in the cupboard for her favorite whiskey. “Madison, did you think about telling Fab, ‘No’?”

  I shrugged. “Mother, when do I say no?”

  Dickie yelled from the living room, “Mr. Campion wants to talk to you, Madison.”

  “What’s the update?” I asked Cruz.

  “I’d like him to stay overnight with you,” Cruz said. “In the morning, I’ll meet him at the courthouse, and he can turn himself in.”

  “Did Dickie explain why he’s at my house?”

  “Tell Fab there’s a slight change in plans. Tell her to do it for old time’s sake, and I’d consider it a personal favor.”

  “Don’t worry. He’ll be there.”

  “I’ll fax Tucker and let him know he’s out and I’m in.” Cruz laughed. “I wish I could be there to see the look on his face when he reads the memo.”

  Dickie sleeping in my house was my punishment for one-upsmanship of Tucker, but probably the only way to appease Fab. “I’ll see you in the morning,” I told Cruz. “Okay, Dickie, you can stay tonight. Just know that if you even think of leaving, Fab or I will shoot you.”

  “I won’t be a problem,” Dickie promised. “What about Miss Merceau? Do you think she’ll agree?”

  “I’ll take care of Fab,” I said with more confidence than I felt.

  “You’ll take care of Fab how?” she asked, walking in through the French doors from the back patio.

  “Did you knock?”

  Fab shook her head. “Well?”

  “There’s been a change of plans. Cruz represents Dickie now. He wants him to stay here overnight and turn himself in in the morning.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Fab huffed. “What about Brick?”

  “Cruz told me to tell you to do it for old time’s sake. I want to hear about that later.”

  She gave me a slight smile. “I’ll have to call Brick.” Fab took her cell phone out of her pocket and went out to the patio.

  “Tonight or tomorrow, he’s turning himself in,” I called after her. I turned to Dickie. “Seriously, you can’t run. There are too many people sticking their necks out for you.”

  “Don’t worry. He’s not going anywhere,” Mother said. “I’m spending the night, and you better not even look at the door.” She stared Dickie down until he looked away. “I know how to use a gun, too.”

  Dickie stood and took a step back, bumping into the wall. “All of you are crazy.”

  Fab returned from the patio. “Brick said you owe him, Madison. I’m staying overnight, so that’s three women and three guns,” she said to Dickie. “These two would just think about shooting you; I’ll do it and think about it later. Tomorrow, you’ll be in court if I have to tie you up and drag you.”

  “Can I lie down?” Dickie asked. “I feel nauseous.”

  “Upstairs, first door on the right. I hope you feel better.”

  “I’ll be sleeping on the couch in case you get any ideas,” Fab yelled.

  CHAPTER 3

  Mother lay next to me against a mountain of pillows on my king size bed, staring out the window. My bedroom window gave a great view of the swimming pool and colorful pots of tropical flowers.

  “Did you get any sleep?” she asked.

  “I tossed and turned mostly. I waited for Dickie to make a run for it and shots to ring out.”

  “She wouldn’t have killed him.” Mother patted my leg. “This isn’t one of those cases where you can drag him in dead.”

  “Thanks for making me laugh.” She was the kind of mother you wanted in your foxhole.

  “Don’t get me wrong. While lying here, I thought, ‘I’m glad I’m not Fab’s mother.’ I could see where one of her would be equal to four, maybe five, children. When you and Brad got into trouble, it was for stupid stuff, like throwing Mr. Simm’s rock garden in the street.”

  I gave her my best innocent look. “As I recall, neither one of us copped to that.”

  “I’m not sure when you two decided I was the town idiot. Honestly, I chose to ignore that the two of you lied. I was embarrassed. We would’ve had to move. I couldn’t have looked at him every day after that.”

  “Is that why you made us pick up all the rocks?”

  “I was happy it turned out to be a hot day, and it took you a few hours to clean up the mess, and proud when you stayed and helped him rearrange the ugly things.”

  “Trust me, we never thought about touching Mr. Simm’s rocks again. Besides, after the rock caper, he crept around always looking out his windows, so we started going the long way around the block to avoid going by his house.” We laughed.

  “What are your plans for today?” Mother asked.

  “I’m going to meet Fab and Dickie at the courthouse and introduce Dickie to Cruz. Cruz was much more confident about the resolution of the case than Tucker.”

  “I don’t want you mixing it up with Tucker,” Mother said. “Leave that sleeping dog alone, lest you wake him and he mauls you.”

  “Good point. After that, I’m going to The Cott
ages to check on my regulars. I need to make sure nothing happened I don’t know about.”

  “I’m going home. Poker girls are coming to my house tonight. You’re always welcome, just bring money.” Mother winked. “If you need anything, Coral Gables isn’t the end of the earth.”

  “I’m happy you stayed.” I kissed her cheek.

  I was surprised and relieved when I went downstairs to find Fab and Dickie had already left, leaving a note on the counter.

  * * *

  First thing in the morning wasn’t the ideal time to find metered parking at the courthouse. The parking lot was my only option, and I got one of the two spaces left on the roof. I raced up the stairs to Superior Court, happy to see that the line for the metal detector was short. I hurried to the elevator and took it to the third floor. When I stepped off, Cruz and Dickie sat on a bench, outside of the courtroom. I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  Fab appeared out of nowhere. “That was nice of you, calling Cruz for him.”

  “I did it to screw Tucker. Just because his plan to screw me out of The Cottages for his ugly-ass shopping mall failed doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten.” I changed the subject. “Were you and Cruz involved?”

  “Back when.”

  I’d have to pry the information out of her. She wasn’t one to volunteer. I turned to look at Cruz, admiring the view. He wore slick like a badge of honor. His expensive suit didn’t do him the same justice as the well-worn pair of jeans I’d once seen him wear. “Is he as good looking with his clothes off as on?”

  “Better.”

  I forced myself to stop staring. “Nice.”

  “It’s always hot with the high intensity ones.” Fab looked Cruz up and down. “It’s all fun and games when we’re banging out the animal sex. Then, when we’re out of bed, fully dressed, it’s blah, blah, blah about how I’m a handful.”

  “And Marco?” Marco was Fab’s latest boyfriend, but I hadn’t met him yet.

  “We haven’t tried on a real relationship yet. We live together, but undercover work doesn’t leave a lot of at-home time. So far, we haven’t had the ‘honey, you need to lose the crazy’ talk.”

  “When do I get to meet him?” The subject of Marco had always been off limits.

  “When he retires. That’s the part about his job I hate. It’s dangerous to have friends.”

  “I had a girlfriend back in South Carolina whose sister worked for the CIA and, by mandate, never discussed her job. I knew it worried her family.”

  Dickie rushed over. “Thank you, Madison.” He threw out his arms in an attempt to hug me.

  I jumped back. “Oh.” I didn’t do handshakes or hugs.

  Dickie didn’t seem to notice that I had stepped away from him. “Cruz was great,” he gushed.

  “You’re not behind bars?” Fab asked.

  “Cruz convinced the judge it was all a mix-up due to the lawyer change; my bail got reinstated. Cruz’s going to try to get the charges dropped or reduced. He’s pretty confident, not like Tucker, who had me doing prison time.”

  “If Raul doesn’t know about any of this, you need to be the one to tell him,” I reminded him. “Don’t let him hear about it from someone else.”

  “If you ever need my services, I’ll do something special.” Dickie waved as he walked away.

  Fab and I looked at one another and laughed.

  “Are you going to play matchmaker and get Raul and him back together?” Fab smirked.

  “It was good advice.”

  “Did you meet Raul at your aunt’s funeral?” Fab asked.

  “No, I didn’t. I wonder what he’s like.”

  “The whole dead people thing creeps me out.” Fab looked at her watch. “I have to go. I’m working another case and have a meeting in an hour.”

  “Another bail jumper?”

  “No, the less I do of those, the better. A friend had a shipment of knock-off purses stolen off a delivery truck.”

  “Be careful. And if you’re paid in purses, I want one.”

  “Don’t worry. If I need backup, I’ll call you.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t.”

  “You so owe me.” Fab smiled, tossed her long brown hair, and walked to the stairwell.

  I left the courthouse and started down the steps. The fresh air felt good. I was happy I wasn’t the one entangled in the legal system. I’d had a couple of brushes with the law since moving to South Florida and found it to be nerve-racking. Just as I reached the top of the stairs, someone grabbed my arm and jerked me around.

  “You bitch,” Tucker Davis hissed in my face.

  He had me trapped on the concrete steps, and I was sure he was going to push me down them.

  “You stay out of my business.” He tightened his grip. “Vanderbilt was my case, until you stuck your nose in.”

  I tried not to show fear. “Let me go.”

  He shook me hard before loosening his grip. “If there weren’t so many people around, I’d push your ass down these stairs and be done with you.”

  I stepped back. “Leave me alone.” So much for self-defense class. I was conscious of the steps behind me and afraid that any sudden movement toward him might backfire and have me tumbling backward.

  “Just remember this: I get what I want.” He turned and walked toward the courthouse doors.

  The ferocity of his final statement had me more afraid than angry. He’d never forget or forgive that I’d stood in the way of his development project. I gripped the railing and walked down the stairs.

  CHAPTER 4

  I sighed with relief when I turned onto the Overseas Highway, where traffic was light. I needed to go to The Cottages and talk to Joseph. I loved going to the Miami area for shopping and restaurant hopping, but driving was like navigating land mines. There were nothing but nut jobs on the road, honking, cutting off other cars, and waving with their middle finger.

  After inheriting The Cottages from Aunt Elizabeth, I took over day-to-day management and my top priority became a makeover of each unit. At first, I did it to keep busy, then I found out I was good at painting, decorating, and searching flea markets for fun pieces. I turned the corner and was pleased to see the palms and tropical flowers planted. I had gone to every nursery in town, tracking down hibiscuses in every color. My initial plan was to do all the planting myself, until reality set in. When I planted my first sago palm, I knew I was in over my head.

  A young girl had ridden by on her bicycle. “You don’t know what you’re doing,” she declared.

  “Anyone can dig a hole,” I shot back, not letting on that the work was harder than I imagined.

  “That’s a terrible location for that ficus tree. Do you even have a plan?”

  “Let me guess. You’re the expert.” I pointed to her T-shirt, which read “Gardener Girl.” She also had a pair of gloves hanging out of her short shorts.

  “Without a plan, you’re not going to be happy with the overall effect. My name is Jami.”

  Jami was outspoken and full of energy, and I liked her immediately. I was an easy sell. I had her finish the planting, and then hired her for regular maintenance. She listened to what I wanted in tropical plants and annuals, and I was happy with the finished project.

  I swung into a guest parking space. Everything looked quiet. There were five cottages on each side of the driveway and a pool at the opposite end, which overlooked the beach. The new manager Mac was sitting on a bench outside the office, her face upturned as she enjoyed the sunshine.

  I remembered the day she tracked me down by the pool. I’d been trying to understand the directions in the new water test kit.

  “I heard you’re looking for a manager.” She picked up the box, took out the vials, and put the chemicals in each one before handing them back to me.

  “You have a pool?” I asked.

  “No, but I know enough about more than a few things to make me useful and dangerous.”

  I’d only voiced the thought once or twice about getting a manager, but
word that I was hiring had spread through the neighborhood like wildfire. Was I ready to surrender control? The job required someone to be in the office every day. I was a poor choice; I lacked the necessary patience for sitting behind a desk.

  Mac and I had sat by the pool and talked. I found her to be direct, a little off center, and someone I’d bet heavily on in a bar fight. She was the opposite of whom I thought I’d hire, but she charmed me, and it turned out she was good with the guests and the regulars. She had a nose for trouble and knew not to rent to the riff-raff. When they came to visit, she kicked them to the curb and made it clear it wouldn’t be in their best interest to come back. Kevin Cory, one of the sheriffs who regularly patrolled the neighborhood, had stopped complaining about all the nuisance calls.

  I took off my heels, threw them in the back of the car, and traded them for a pair of flip-flops.

  Mac Lane was tall, heavy at the hip, and on the high side of forty. She had a look that said she didn’t tolerate any shenanigans. She showed off her body in a tight hot-pink top and painted-on jeans; on her feet a pair of lime-green fuzzy slippers with big eyes and a smiley face embroidered on the top. I thought they only existed under her desk; I didn’t know she wore them outside.

  When I hired her, I found out Mac was short for Macklin and she’d been named after her grandfather.

  “Hey, Mac!” I called out. “How are you?”

  “You know I’m fine,” she said, opening her eyes. “I stopped complaining when I was at the drugstore last night and walked by the lice and wart section. I thought to myself, I don’t have either one of those, so it’s all good.”

  I was lice and wart-free, too, so by that standard, it was a great day. “Is Joseph around?”

  “His probation officer picked him up this morning.”

  “Did he leave in cuffs?” I asked.

  “No cuffs. All seemed good. He left early, and I don’t think he’s come back. He tries to sneak around like Creole, but he’s terrible at it.”

  “I’m still annoyed at Creole, moving out and then back in without asking,” I said. “It didn’t occur to him to find out if he was still welcome? He just left rent money under the office door.”