Madison Westin 02-Deception in Paradise

by Deborah Brown

  “Where humans failed, the anklet will keep you in line. I’m surprised you both didn’t get arrested.”

  “I had a choice: wear this or go to jail. I’m on a short leash. I have to call the monitor service if I leave the property.”

  “Stop looking so hangdog. What about the damage to Billy’s car?”

  “He reported it stolen so the insurance company would pay.”

  “You and your friend Billy are skating on illegal thin ice. I’ll be sad if you end up in jail again.”

  “I’ve always told you, you’re way too nice for your own good.” He burped.

  I stood and headed to the door. “See you later.”

  “Has that hot friend of yours gotten rid of her boyfriend?” He smiled, showing smoke-stained and missing teeth.

  “Fab?”

  “She’s smokin’.”

  That was suicidal nonsense on his part. “She’s still with the same boyfriend. You’d better be careful. She’ll kick your ass, and if she’s having a bad day, she might shoot you.”

  “It might be worth it.”

  “Trust me. It won’t be.” I closed his door. I wondered what he’d say if I told him Fab thought he was a sneaky, repulsive liar.

  As I walked down the driveway, my cell phone rang.

  “Madison, it’s Whit. What’s up?”

  “I need a referral for an attorney who can tell me what my rights are before a civil lawsuit is filed.”

  “Against you?” He sounded more interested than surprised.

  “Yes. Can you recommend someone?”

  * * *

  I walked into the offices of Ernest Whitman and headed straight for the snack bowl. I pulled out a one-hundred-calorie bag of Oreos, which meant there were only a few cookies. Instead of taking two bags, I chose a miniature candy bar. Holding the sugar in my hand made me feel less anxious. I grabbed a bottle of water and headed to his office. He’d told me that everyone had left for the day and to come on back.

  “Have a seat, Miss Madison, and tell me what you’ve gotten yourself into this time.” Whit laughed.

  I told him all about Jax’s scam-plan and didn’t leave out any details.

  “He’s got a pair. I’ll give him that. You’re sure he hasn’t signed anything?” Whit asked.

  “He says he hasn’t. How do I protect myself?”

  “I’ll call Chet Mitchell, a real estate lawyer, when he gets back to town. Right now, there’s nothing that you can do because no suit’s been filed. I’m almost certain there’s an end run you can play on the lawyer. Jax will end up scamming the lawyer twice, and it will leave you out of it all together. He ends up holding the bag and reaping the wrath.” Whit slapped his hand on the desk. “I like that.”

  “What does this entail?” I didn’t share in the humor.

  “Chet needs to be involved; he’s the one with the expertise. I’m certain this situation can be handled as long as you’re getting the inside information, and you stay one-step ahead. I honestly don’t think Jax has a valid claim, and without him, the shyster lawyer certainly doesn’t have one.”

  “I don’t like any of this, but at least I know what’s coming.”

  “Don’t worry. Just make sure that if there’s any movement in this case, you’re the first to know. I’ll get with Chet the day he gets back, and he’ll have definitive answers for you,” Whit promised.

  I smiled. “I’ll take you to dinner when this is all over.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Aunt Elizabeth’s house is a comfortable, white two-story Key West style, with a wraparound porch on the second story. It is located on the outskirts of Tarpon Cove, on an unmarked side road off the main highway. The street sign had been stolen several times, and the city stopped replacing it years ago. My brother and I had spent all of our summers with Elizabeth. While Brad spent every second swimming in the Gulf, my aunt and I had spent our time planting every tropical variety of hibiscus that we could find. My idea had been to use seashells as mulch. I’d loved my aunt’s house as a child, and with my personal stamp on it, it had become my haven. Elizabeth would have been very pleased.

  I pulled my SUV next to Fab’s Thunderbird. I peeked in the kitchen window and saw Fab sitting at the counter with paperwork in front of her. There was no sign of Jax.

  “Honey, I’m home,” I called, opening the front door. As long as Jax was there, I didn’t dare leave my purse and keys in their usual place on the bench in the entryway. I was afraid he’d take my keys and drive off in my SUV.

  Once when we were married, he loaned my Tahoe out to repay a drug bill. No amount of threats was enough to get it back from the girl. One week later, it just showed up in the driveway. It turned out she was a single mother who lived with her mother, and they supplemented their income by dealing. I heard later that she used the money to take her kids and mother to Disney World. The only reason I could come up with for not calling the police was that I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t end up in jail along with everyone else. I had been in over my head. I didn’t know anything about enabling and addictions.

  “I’m here in the living room,” Jax yelled.

  I walked into the kitchen. “I wasn’t talking to you. I meant Fab.”

  “Is that why you’ve been acting so weird? You’ve gone lesbian? I didn’t think a divorce would have you jumping sides. Mr. Sir misses you.”

  “Mr. Sir?” Fab whispered.

  “He named his… you know,” I told her.

  She snickered.

  I pointed at Jazz. “If he pukes up all that chicken you’re feeding him, I’m going to save it for you to clean up.”

  “Bad day, huh?”

  I gestured toward where Jax sat in the living room. “I’m worried how this is going to turn out.”

  “I can hear you,” he yelled.

  “Then, don’t listen,” I yelled back. “I have every right to be worried about this scheme of yours.”

  “I’m going out. Get in a better mood by the time I get back.” He slammed the door.

  “You didn’t tell me he’s cute.”

  “When he’s sober and not using, he’s funny, hard-working, and generally great to be around. But when the drugs and alcohol took over, each day just got worse.”

  “He told me about his half-owner scheme. Seemed sure of himself,” Fab related.

  “I need to speak with a lawyer, get answers to some questions, and find out if this lawyer of his has a legitimate case. Whit doesn’t think so, and I hope he’s right.”

  “If you want him out, just say the word.” Fab flexed her arm muscle.

  “It’s only for a few days, and I need to remind him of that. I need to be in the loop of any new information, not the last to know. What’s up with you?”

  “Brick wasn’t happy with the way things went down with Dickie. He calmed down when I assured him there’d be no more no-shows. So he’s fine with everything.”

  “I’m hungry.” I opened the refrigerator. “How about dinner?”

  “We don’t have time for that.”

  “What?”

  “I need you to be backup.”

  “Is it illegal?” I wanted a margarita on the rocks and some Mexican food.

  “Do I have to remind you that you owe me from even before Dickie?”

  “Just tell me what you want.”

  “My friend Gracee designs jewelry and sells her pieces to high-end boutiques. Her work appears in fashion magazines and on the catwalks in fashion shows. Three weeks ago, at a photo shoot, a blue diamond necklace that was on loan went missing. Zoe was the model at the shoot, and two days ago, Gracee saw a picture of her in a tabloid wearing guess what around her neck at an opening.”

  I gasped. “Zoe stole the necklace?”

  “Get this. Gracee called and asked her to return the necklace, and she said it belonged to another designer. I’m going to go and retrieve it. I just need you to sit in the lobby of her condo and call me if she shows up.”

  “You’re going to break in
and steal the necklace?”

  Fab narrowed her eyes. “I’m only returning it to its rightful owner.”

  “Why doesn’t Gracee call the police?”

  “Zoe’s a train wreck, and Gracee doesn’t want the negative publicity. Contrary to what you hear, some publicity is just bad all around. If the police become involved, they’ll keep the necklace until it goes to trial, which could be months. Who knows what condition it’ll come back in?”

  “If we get caught, we’ll be arrested,” I pointed out.

  “You’re such a worrier. If Zoe comes back, you call me and then leave. I’ll call you when I exit the building, and you pick me up.”

  I shook my head. “When are we leaving?”

  “Now. We have to drive up to Miami. I’ll stop and get you a hamburger on the way.”

  “I’ll change.” I started for the stairs.

  “No need. Great dress. You’ll totally fit in with the South Beach crowd.”

  “It would be terrible if I didn’t fit in,” I grumbled. I slammed the front door behind us, a childish gesture, but I didn’t care.

  “This is my first ride in the Thunderbird,” I said, opening the car door. “Nice. You’ve never said exactly what you do for Brick.”

  “This and that.”

  What the hell kind of answer was that? My guess was that it was her nice way of saying, “Mind your own business.”

  “Joseph asked about you today,” I said.

  “Where did you see him?”

  “Where do you think? The Cottages.”

  “You seem to like being a property owner,” Fab said.

  “I love it. I’m there every day. Between The Cottages and the house, I’ve got a full-time job.”

  “What do you want to eat?”

  “Nothing. You’re driving so fast, I’m afraid I might get sick.” My fingers gripped the armrest so hard my knuckles hurt.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’m only twenty miles over the speed limit.”

  “Anyway, Joseph’s still interested. He’s waiting for you and Marco to break up.”

  “You can tell him that if he and I were stranded on a deserted island, I’d kill him.”

  “He’s in love.”

  “Stop laughing. I’d almost rather date Dickie, and that’s not going to happen, either.”

  Fab exited the freeway and flew down Collins Avenue, weaving in and out of traffic. There was no moon out, and the ocean was pitch black, but I could hear the water lapping the shore.

  “Where does Zoe live?” I asked.

  “She lives a few blocks down in a penthouse on the water.”

  High-rise million dollar condominium complexes lined the beach, each with its own spectacular view.

  “She can afford to live in this neighborhood and steals jewelry? What’s up with that?”

  “Zoe takes what Zoe wants. She has a bad reputation. If you want your clothes, jewelry, and etcetera back after a shoot or an appearance with her, you’d better send a bodyguard. Once she leaves with your stuff, you don’t get it back. She’s immune to threats.” Fab looked over at me. “You’ve got that look on your face. What?”

  “Zach can’t find out about this. We have so little time together; I don’t want to waste it having to listen to a lecture about you.”

  “He just worries about you. He’s right about one thing, though. I’m not a good influence.”

  “He threatened to tell my mother. Does he really need to be reminded I’m a grown woman, and I’ll pick and choose my friends, thank you?”

  “If anyone asks, I didn’t tell you this…”

  I sighed. “What did he say to you?”

  “Not him, your mother. She told me if I ever got you into trouble with my shenanigans, she would hunt me down and kick my ass. She added if you ever got hurt, she’d have to kill me.”

  “Wow.”

  “The way she looked at me, I admit I stepped back.”

  “Okay, so we don’t tell her anything, either. But if we ever get caught, we’ll need her for bail.”

  “I’d call Arlo the bookie before your mother,” Fab said. “The drawback there is he wants repayment in sex.”

  “What’s he look like?”

  “He’s a cross between Dickie and Joseph.”

  I conjured up that image and laughed. “You’re better off calling my mother. I’ll protect you.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. I like Madeline, but quite frankly, she scares me.” Fab pulled into a parking space in front of a towering glass condominium that sat steps from the white sands of Miami Beach.

  “So this is where the fabulous Zoe lives?” I thought the condos were a blight on the shoreline, no matter how expensive they were.

  “This is it.” Fab tossed me the keys. “If Zoe comes back, you call me. If the police show up, call me. I see your name on my screen, and I’m out of there. Once I’m outside, I’ll call you and tell you where to pick me up.”

  Fab slid her lock pick out of the pocket of her black pants as we approached the building. She popped open the lobby door in less than ten seconds. “I’ll meet you here in the lobby if nothing goes wrong. Pretend you’re on the phone, and no one will bother you. In these places, the only time you see someone is if they’re coming or going.”

  “I’ll be fine. Hurry up and be careful.” I sat on one of the couches, running my hand over the soft white leather and keeping one eye on the driveway.

  I walked over to the floor to ceiling windows and looked out at the pool area. The water was inviting, Caribbean blue with a dozen floating lights, and running lights in the trees. The state-of-the-art gym had a view of the beach to inspire ones workout. I was all nerves and fidgety; sitting was out of the question. I paced back and forth.

  When I heard the elevator bell, I jumped into the nearest chair and quickly put my phone to my ear.

  A security guard stepped out and looked my way. “Do you live here?” His nametag read “Al.”

  I tried to stay calm. “I’m waiting for someone.”

  “Guests can’t hang out in the lobby. Which resident are you visiting?”

  The elevator bell rang again. I jumped up to distract Al from looking toward the door. “Salvatore Luciana.” He was a notorious badass who constantly made the gossip columns. I caught a glimpse of Fab’s back disappearing in the opposite direction.

  The name caught Al by surprise. “He lives in the pink and green monstrosity about a block down.” Al shook his head.

  “No wonder he’s late. I knew I should’ve written down the address.”

  “How did you get in here?”

  “Someone was leaving, and they held the door for me.” I smiled.

  “That’s trespassing, but I’ll let it go this time,” he said, staring at my cleavage. “Be careful.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief and walked calmly toward the car.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Fab said. “What did the rental guard want?”

  “Just weeding out the riff-raff.” I closed the car door. “Did you get it?”

  She unzipped her jacket and pulled out a black velvet necklace box. “She had it sitting out on her dresser, lid open.” Fab snapped open her phone and punched in a number. “Gracee, I got it.” Fab was smiling at the phone. “I’m with my friend Madison. We should be there in about an hour, depending on traffic.” She snapped her phone closed. “I should’ve asked you before committing to going to Gracee’s.”

  “I bill by the hour,” I said.

  “Gracee started crying when I told her. She had money and time invested in this piece, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever get it back.”

  “I’m excited to meet her. I’ve made a few pieces of jewelry myself. I haven’t had any time since I moved here, but I still have my tools and boxes of supplies. I found a great table at the flea market last weekend that I’m planning to refinish and put in my office. I’ll use it for future projects.”

  “You never cease to amaze me. You’re going to have to show me so
mething you’ve done.”

  * * *

  We pulled up to a small 1920s bungalow house, painted white, window boxes filled with red, white, and pink annuals. A vintage pink glider rocker sat on the porch, along with two mismatched white metal chairs.

  Gracee opened the front door as we walked up the steps. She threw her arms around Fab. “You’re so fab-ulous.” Gracee was small and delicate, with her thick brown curly hair tied back in a ponytail. She was barefoot and had the arms and legs of her oversized sweats rolled up.

  Fab held out the necklace box and snapped open the lid; it was a show-stopping piece. The focal stone was a large blue diamond with three strands of blue and white diamonds up each side, the intricate gold clasp, a detailed, one-of-a-kind creation.

  “I want you to meet Madison. She was my lookout.”

  “Come in,” Gracee said, pulling Fab inside. “Thank you both. Zoe never intended to return the necklace. She said as much the last time I talked to her. I told her I would never again loan any of my pieces to a shoot or anything else she was a part of.”

  “What did she say?” Fab asked.

  “She laughed at me.”

  “Bitch. I’m glad I could help out,” Fab said

  “Hi, there,” I said to a four-foot-tall white dog who walked up beside me. The dog would easily tip the scales at one hundred pounds. “Is he a Great Dane?” He nudged my hand when I stopped petting him.

  “That’s Beck. He’s a Pit Bull-Great Dane mix and the sweetest dog ever. I rescued him as a puppy from a guy down the street. One day, I watched Beck’s owner put a cigarette out on his back, and I decided he’d never spend another night with that bastard. That night, I coaxed Beck out of the yard, and he had burn marks all over him, underfed, and dehydrated. I kept him inside and nursed his wounds. His old owner never seemed to notice. Then about a month later, the guy moved, one step ahead of the police who showed up looking for him.”

  I walked over to a sideboard that held several of Gracee’s pieces on pedestals. She was truly an artist, and I could see why her jewelry was in high demand. I had to force myself not to touch anything. I really wanted to try on the blue-green pearl necklace with the abalone focal piece so I could brag I’d once worn a Gracee design.