Madison Westin 02-Deception in Paradise

by Deborah Brown

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “It’s early.”

  “We have a lot to talk about. Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t kick your butt to the curb right now.” I looked around; the place was a wreck. The ashtrays overflowed; empty beer cans and wet beach towels were everywhere.

  “I’m not hard of hearing,” he said, sitting on the couch. “Give me a break. My head hurts. Why are you yelling?”

  “You’re so loud,” Apple whined from the chair next to the couch. Her face was chalky, and her long hair hung in a ponytail. She pulled a blanket over her head.

  “Get her out of here today. If you don’t, you’re out tomorrow.”

  Jax covered his ears. “You don’t understand.”

  “Oh shut up with the ‘I don’t understand.’ Get dressed and come outside so we can talk.”

  He looked at the clock. “We’ll have to do this later. I’m meeting with my lawyer.”

  “Tucker? Tucker Davis? Tell me, is he your lawyer on the lawsuit?”

  He stared at me, obviously trying to decide how to answer. “He is now.”

  “Our agreement was that I would be the first to know if anything happened. Who made the first contact, you or him?”

  “He did, referred by Lloyd Samuels,” he said, looking away. “I don’t like him, but his fee is right: free.”

  “Jax, you’ve jumped in bed with a snake. He’s going to screw you good.”

  “Why? And tell me, what’s the deal with your house? It’s nice, but why doesn’t he just buy one that’s available?”

  “It’s a long story that goes back to my aunt. Please don’t do anything that will jeopardize my property.”

  He tipped my face to his. “I won’t. I have to go. I have an appointment with the snake, and then I’m going to Moron’s.” He walked into the bathroom. “Have you talked with your lawyer yet?” He didn’t wait for an answer before slamming the door.

  “Call me when you get back!” I yelled. I left knowing he wouldn’t call. He hated confrontation. Fab and I would have to track him down and tie him to a chair.

  I walked across the yard to Joseph’s unit and knocked on the door.

  He answered with a beer in his hand. “Want one?”

  “I can’t chase waffles with a beer and not throw up.”

  Joseph shook his head. “I’d still be asleep if you weren’t out there yelling at your husband.”

  “Ex-husband, and I wasn’t yelling.”

  “My ass. You woke half the neighborhood.”

  “I need a favor,” I said.

  “What else is new?”

  “You owe me, and you need to start returning favors, or the next time you need a ride home from jail, you can use your thumb.”

  “Let me guess. Spy on the trio over there.” He pointed to Jax’s cottage. “And report back.”

  “I can do that legwork myself.” Jax had never been able to hide anything from me indefinitely. When we were married, I turned out to be a quick learner.

  Joseph sighed. “So what now?”

  “I need to find out everything I can about Pavel and his girlfriend Kym. And I need this information yesterday without anyone knowing I’m the one doing the asking.”

  “You’re freakin’ crazy. You’re going to get my ass kicked.”

  “If you do it right, no one will suspect. You’re not dealing with rocket scientists.”

  “What about me?” he asked. “I’m a sneaky, cagey bastard, but I’m not a rocket person, either.”

  “Who were Pavel’s friends? Was he doing anything illegal? Did he owe anyone money? This is what we know. He was a nice guy, squeaky clean. How does that translate to a bullet in his head?”

  “As soon as I ask the first question, Sid Byce will hear, and he’ll flip out all over me. Everyone knows I live here, and you own the place. Plus, people think…” He paused. “You and I… um…”

  “You and I what?”

  “I tell people we’re close.”

  “When that gets back to Zach, he won’t be happy.” I was pretty sure all Zach would do was laugh, and no one would believe Joseph anyway.

  “Anything else you want?” Joseph asked.

  “I want to talk to someone who worked with Pavel. A friend or a co-worker would be great, or someone that knows everything that goes on down at those docks. I don’t care about anything illegal except how it would relate to Pavel.”

  “This is a piss poor idea,” Joseph declared. “You need to rethink this plan of yours. You’ll end up dead like Pavel, but only half of you will float up in the Gulf and the other half who knows where.”

  I leaned forward. “Too damn bad! Pavel deserves to have the real killer in jail, and Jax isn’t going to be railroaded because it’s convenient. You know who to ask without Byce finding out.”

  “Jax is a big boy. You need to stay out of it. You’re not involved.”

  “The hell I’m not. Your buddy Harder is lead on this case. He’s had my boat impounded, searched my house, and questioned me until I thought I’d scream.”

  “News flash, Harder and Byce are good friends,” Joseph said. “Byce wants a quick resolution to the case, and your husband is in his crosshairs. Byce’s hopping mad that no further charges have already been filed.”

  “Come on. I know you can do this for me without anyone becoming suspicious.”

  “You’ll owe me big.”

  I opened his door. “Thanks, Joseph. You wouldn’t want someone to railroad you into jail for something you didn’t do.”

  I saw Mac down the drive and waved to her. I walked by Miss January’s porch, where she was sitting in her chair sound asleep.

  “Miss January isn’t usually up this early,” I said to Mac. “She usually sleeps until noon.” I looked over at her.

  “She slept there all night,” Mac said.

  “That’s horrible. She doesn’t even have a blanket. The nights are cooler now. Do you think she’s dead?” I asked.

  “I checked her pulse; she’s still breathing. I think she’s a tough old bird, but she belongs in a home.” Mac shook her head.

  “Good luck to that. I heard some friend of hers suggest that once, and she cussed her like a hardened truck driver.”

  “You could make it happen. She does need someone to look after her.”

  “That’s Miss January’s choice.” I narrowed my eyes. “She has a home here as long as she wants one. Everyone here looks out for her, and I can be called anytime night or day.”

  “The regulars all like you. How did you get them to trust you?” Mac asked. “They treat me like I have a contagious rash.”

  “I had the advantage of knowing Joseph and Miss January from when my aunt was alive.”

  “There’s more good news,” Mac said.

  “Seriously?”

  “I had to tell Julie Cory that she and her boyfriend had to take their fights inside.”

  “More details.” I had worried about the boyfriend since my last talk with Liam.

  “Nothing else to tell. They were screaming at each other over where she parks her car. When he grabbed her arm, I interrupted the lovebirds and told them I was calling the sheriff. The boyfriend yelled at me to mind my own business.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I told him it was in his best interest to talk to me, and then I pulled open my jacket to show him my 9mm Ruger.”

  “Have you seen her since?”

  “The next morning, she looked fine and thanked me for not calling anyone. She didn’t want her brother to find out; he’s overprotective and hates her boyfriend.”

  “That sounds familiar.” The big difference was Zach didn’t hurt women.

  “I told Julie I wouldn’t stand by and let Dirt Face hurt her. I’d either shoot him, call the sheriff, or both,” Mac said.

  “How does a nice girl like her pick a boyfriend from the bottom of a hole?”

  “If you can figure out the answer to that question, you need to manufacture a pill. I pr
edict stardom and riches in your future.”

  We both laughed.

  “Back in the day, I used to date my fair share of felon bad boys,” Mac said. “My goal was to reform them.”

  “How did that work out?”

  “I got arrested in a drug sting. The charges were eventually dropped. Some weren’t so lucky. I went running back to my high school boyfriend, who was a very nice guy. We married and lived happily ever after.”

  “What’s your number one suggestion for a happy marriage?”

  She laughed. “Lots of sex.”

  “When do I get to meet Mr. Mac?”

  “When you get married. How are things with you and your PI boyfriend?”

  “Married? Why do I have to wait that long?”

  “I don’t trot my husband around single women. He’s mine.”

  I smiled and shook my head.

  “Liam asked when you were coming around again,” Mac said.

  “He okay?”

  “Looked fine, just unhappy.”

  “He has my phone number,” I said.

  “Told me someone stole his phone. His mother was super mad at him because she thinks he lost it.”

  “Who does he think stole it?” I asked.

  “I asked him the same question. He thinks it was Dirt Face, but he hasn’t told his mother because he doesn’t have any proof.”

  “Five bucks says he has his phone back by tomorrow. You on?”

  “This time tomorrow?” Mac asked.

  “Yeppers.”

  “You’re on.”

  We sealed the deal with a handshake.

  Hearing my name called, I turned to see Gardener Girl walking up the drive. “Hi, Jami. I’m happy with what you’re doing around here. The plants are looking good.”

  “There’s a problem, Miss M,” she started. “I went to the shed a minute ago, and the lock was missing and all of the gardening equipment was gone.”

  I followed her back, opening the door of the shed. “Gone where?” It had been stripped bare, only a few chemicals left behind. “When did you last see everything?”

  “Last week on my regular day. I swear I don’t know what happened. I know I locked up; I wouldn’t forget. I always double check.”

  Mac walked up behind me. “I’ll call the police.”

  “I’ll take care of this.” I headed to Jax’s cottage. I pounded on the door, but no one answered. I had the key Mac had given me on my ring. I tried it, and it only took me a few seconds to realize the lock had been changed. I hadn’t seen Jax leave, but he could’ve gone down the beach and walked out onto Gulf Boulevard.

  I walked back to where Jami and Mac stood staring into the empty shed.

  “I’m sorry,” Jami said.

  “I know you had nothing to do with any of this. Do what you can today, and next week you’ll have all the equipment you need.” I turned to Mac. “No police, I’ll handle this. In fact, don’t tell anyone we know. Both of you promise me.”

  They both nodded. Jami waved goodbye and rode off on her bicycle.

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how this happened,” Mac said. “I never thought to check the lock. I will from now on.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered how often you checked. This happened when no one was around, or I’d have known before today.”

  “Anything I can do to help?” Mac offered.

  I pointed at Jax’s cottage. “Have you noticed when the three of them leave at the same time?”

  “Afternoons, they sit on the beach and drink beer.”

  “Do any of them have a job?” I knew that was a long shot, but I asked anyway.

  “Jax leaves every morning early and gets back mid-afternoon from working with Moron. The other two are free-loading slugs.”

  “Call me the next time you see the three of them hit the beach.”

  CHAPTER 22

  “Oh, good. You’re back.” Fab was sitting on my couch, pounding away on her laptop. “I need your help.”

  “I’m not agreeing until I hear what you need help with.” I threw my purse on the floor and kicked off my tennis shoes.

  “That’s not the attitude of a Wannabe.”

  “I knew you’d shorten it.”

  “How long have you been waiting to say that?” Fab asked a slight curve to the corner of her mouth.

  “I was lying in wait, looking for my first opportunity.”

  “Ride with me down to Key West and drive my car back.” Fab snapped the lid shut on her laptop.

  I turned to look at her. “You’re letting me drive your car?”

  “You’re the only one I’d let drive my car. I wouldn’t ever ride with you as a passenger. Your driving makes me crazy.”

  “Love you, too.”

  “Don’t smile at me. I’m letting you drive because you’re the kind of driver other drivers give the finger to.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with following the speed limit. How are you getting back?”

  “I’m picking up a Ferrari for Brick.”

  “Nothing with Brick is that simple. What’s the Cliff Notes version?”

  “He rented a Ferrari to some spoiled rich-kid brat, and it’s a week overdue,” Fab said. “The guy’s not picking up his phone or returning calls. Brick’s sending me down to find the car and bring it back.”

  “We’re jacking a car? That sounds like fun.”

  “Calm down. I have a key.” She picked up a key ring from the table and put it in the pocket of her jeans.

  “Why are you limping and have Band Aids on four of your fingers?” I asked.

  “I jumped from a second-story bathroom window this morning into a dumpster. There wasn’t as much trash in it as I hoped. I ripped my fingernails off, and there was no soft landing. Not to mention the smell.”

  “Why not use the door?” I admired the fact that she thought fast on her feet. I couldn’t see myself taking a dive out a window.

  “I got trapped in the bathroom, and speed was of the essence.”

  “Did you get what you went for?” I asked.

  “Hell, yes.”

  “It’s clear you’re going to make me ask.”

  “I went to retrieve a sex DVD. A friend of a friend of a… you get the picture. Trust fund baby of a billionaire thought she had herself the catch of the year, a spoiled less-rich brat from Palm Beach. Turns out, he only likes to screw and record it. When she realized she’d been taped and couldn’t retrieve it on her own, she paid me huge to get it back. Seems as though Daddy thinks she’s a virgin.”

  “What is she, twelve?”

  “How old were you your first time?” Fab asked.

  “Thirty.”

  Fab looked at me and laughed. “So you lost your virginity last week?”

  “Did you get combat pay?”

  “I billed her triple and told her I’d give her a discount if she’d pass along my name to her other friends with money to burn.”

  “Next time, take me,” I said. “Perp comes home early, and I’ll create a diversion. I could’ve created a scene before he got to the door.”

  “Perp? You need to cut back on the television. I predict one of these days you’ll have your own trashcan to jump in.”

  “I want all the cases that don’t fall into the felony category.”

  “Yes, there was a legal issue,” Fab said. “But this narcissistic piece of crap had about fifty DVDs, all marked with different girls’ names. To not fall into one of the categories you mentioned, you’d have to call in the police. The guy goes down, maybe, and all those women get their names smeared in the newspaper.”

  “What about the other DVDs?” I asked.

  “I filled a pillowcase, threw them into the trash before I jumped, and now they’re in my trunk.”

  “Good thinking. Another happy ending,” I said.

  “Not so happy. When your family finds out that you’re running around like PI Jane, they’ll send you to a convent.”

  I knew she was right. They’d feel
compelled to save me from myself. That could get ugly. “Promise me you won’t give up until you get me out of the convent.”

  “Pinky swear.” We linked fingers.

  Fab rocketed down the Overseas Highway, a two-lane road running north and south over the water that ran through the Keys. I gripped the hand rest, my knuckles turning white, and looked out the passenger window because looking out the windshield made me nauseous. We made the two-hour trip in a little over an hour.

  Driving into Key West, Fab was forced to use the brakes. It turned out to be a beautiful, sunny day. The sidewalks and streets were crowded with people, bikes, scooters, and skaters. Fab squealed into the driveway of a hotel and handed the keys to the valet, along with a big tip not to park it, but leave it up front. We walked the two blocks to the Pier House on famous Duval Street.

  “Can we stop for something cold to drink?” I asked. “Something with a cherry.”

  “We’re here on business. You can get your children’s drink later.” We took the elevator to the third floor. “Wait here for me.”

  I stood by the elevator and watched as Fab spoke briefly with the maid. They disappeared inside a room. Minutes later, Fab was on her way back down the hall. “Well, that was fast,” I told her.

  “He’d already checked out. The housekeeper called a friend at the front desk and found out that he moved across the street. He’s trying to hide a car and leaves a forwarding. Not very bright.”

  It was a short walk to the Ocean Resort. “It’s parked second one in, third row.” Fab pointed. “Wait until I get to the valet desk, drive out in your pokey fashion, and no one will notice.” She tossed me the keys.

  The car was absolutely gorgeous, cherry-red exterior, black leather interior. “If you ask me, a Ferrari’s a man’s car,” I mumbled, sliding behind the wheel. I pushed the seat forward as far as it would go, and it was still a stretch to reach the pedals. I exited the hotel parking lot, and no one even looked in my direction; the nerdy-looking valet guy was busy flirting with Fab. I parked at the end of the block in front of Fab’s car and waited.

  A short time later, the passenger door opened, and Fab jumped in.

  “That was easy,” I said.

  “I had a message to deliver from Brick,” Fab said. “But when William Clayton didn’t answer the door, I picked the lock. Clothes, tighty-whiteys strewn all over the floor, and he was nowhere in sight. I found the rental contract and keys inside his briefcase. I grabbed them and left.”