Fab straightened up and looked directly at him. “Gabriel had a second briefcase, a Presidential Louis Vuitton, which held all the good stuff.”
“Where do you suppose it is?” Creole’s tone suggested his anger had abated, but his eyes told another story.
“What is this place anyway? Who’s the owner?” Fab asked.
“Owned by a corporation out of Belize. This place, according to the realtor, has been up for sale for about six months, with no bites at twelve and a half million. Back to the briefcase: where is it?”
“Does it look like I have it stuffed in my jeans?” Fab spun around. “Gabriel never had one hiding place. He always had a backup plan.”
“Get out of here and don’t come back.” Creole waved the cuffs in her face. “Next time I will arrest you.”
Creole followed us to the elevator.
“You want us to leave you need to open the elevator.” Fab smiled at him.
“You need to get a better story than following residents through several layers of security. Obviously, you didn’t run your story by Madison first or I suspect it might have been believable.”
I refrained from a curtsey, but I’d remind Fab of this moment later. I couldn’t believe that there hadn’t been a knock down fight where one or both of them ended up maimed.
“Remember my warning,” Creole told Fab. “Where are you two going now?”
“The Cove,” I said. Who knew where we were actually headed, but telling him we were going home would stop another fresh round of yelling. “What alias did Gabriel use?”
Creole escorted us to the Hummer as reassurance that we wouldn’t detour anywhere else inside the building.
“Henri Ricard. Sound familiar to you?” he asked Fab.
“Dead uncle on his mother’s side, a first-class forger. Gabriel idolized him. He never used that name for criminal activity because it was a favorite identity he never wanted to retire.”
Creole stood in the driveway, arms across his chest.
“Interesting family your ex has.” Once we were back cruising the beach, I thought briefly about hanging my head out the window like a dog sucking up the sea air.
“You don’t know the half of his familial lineage. His mother, days away from being forced into a convent by her father, was kidnapped by her high school boyfriend and persuaded into marriage. There are many other colorful members on his side of the family, not a bland personality in the bunch; another reason for my family to be horrified.”
“Did you find any women’s clothing?” I asked. “You couldn’t possibly have searched the entire upstairs for the elusive briefcase.”
“In the bathroom there was an expensive La Perla lace thong and a fifty dollar tube of Guerlain lipstick. The woman either had money or was an expert in spending other people’s.”
“When are we coming back?” I asked.
Fab ignored me. “The briefcase has to be there. Where else? Even if Gabriel had another accomplice, he didn’t trust anyone and he never played nice. Are you working on our ride to the island?”
“Tomorrow I’m going to go see Brick.”
Fab glared at me. “Why does he like you more than me? He would never agree if I asked and I never pointed a gun at him.”
CHAPTER 26
My eyes flew open, the morning sun flooding through the window. I’d gotten up in the middle of the night and Fab’s bed hadn’t been slept in; her Mercedes was not in the driveway. My bet she’d driven back to the condo. It irked me that she didn’t wake me up and take me with her.
If she wasn’t awake she would be in a minute because I’d drag her butt out of bed. Hanging from her doorknob a pair of men’s black bikinis—her subtle message that Didier was back and they were having sex. Maybe I’d been wrong and she’d been out with him.
I lingered under the warm water enjoying my new showerhead, a flashy square rain model that had five jets. I checked my phone while stepping into a lime green flowery skirt with pockets—a useful place to put my keys. I’d gotten a text in the middle of the night saying, “moved out.” One more thing to cross off my to-do list. I need to call Mr. Ivers and let him know he could go back to business as usual.
I picked up Jazz and nuzzled his neck; he looked at me and meowed as if saying, “Hug me once if you have to. Anything more irritates me.” I needed to refresh his food and water bowl. If not up to his standards, he’d be howling the house down. I needed an injection of coffee.
After feeding Jazz, my first stop would be The Bakery Café. Instead of my own home brew, I needed something stronger with caramel and whipped cream to jump start the day. My phone rang as I climbed into the Hummer. I groaned when I looked at the screen. Slice never called to say hi, how are you?
“Is this a friendly chat?”
“I apologize in advance,” Slice started. “We moved Quirky and his crap out, even loaded it onto his truck. Disgusting doesn’t quite cover the mess he left behind. One of my men followed him to the turnpike and waved good-bye.”
I sat in the driveway, happy for the good news.
“It just came over the scanner, Clean Bubbles fully engulfed in flames. I tore over there to check out the situation. Quirky must’ve doubled back on us and set the place on fire.”
My shoulders sagged. “What the hell am I going to tell Mr. Ivers?”
“There is good news. The concrete walls are charred but still standing, burned the roof off, destroyed plumbing and electrical and all the equipment.”
“That’s some crappy good news.” I felt responsible. “What else?”
“The old weirdo at the trailer park, out on his nightly rounds of snooping through people’s trash, investigated and saw Quirky lurking, and a short time after, flames leaped through the roof. Quirky’s nowhere to be found now.”
“What about Vanilla? Did she leave with him?”
“When Quirky left the first time, he left his sister’s belongings in a couple of boxes outside the office. But when he went back, he threw them inside and they burned in the fire.”
“The owner is an old man...”
“Tell him the truth. At least no one got hurt or worse. Honestly didn’t see this coming. My guess? Quirky had this planned.”
“Thanks for the heads up.” I stared out the windshield wondering what to say to Mr. Ivers. I called and left a message, telling him we needed to get together.
* * *
I pulled into the driveway of The Cottages thinking about my trip to Clean Bubbles. I sat at the curb and surveyed the damage, feeling guilty. I’d learned a lot in my previous life with my ex-husband, Jax. He’d been a contractor and used me as an errand girl more than a few times. I spent a lot of time at the hardware store. After a while, I began to take on my own projects and my first one, a flip-house, made a big profit. Even having to replace the entire electrical and plumbing, the wash bays could see action soon.
As I sat in a daze, the Hummer jerked forward. Looking in my rearview, a two-door pickup slammed into my rear end, pushing my front bumper up against a pair of twenty-foot palm trees. The truck roared back in reverse and burned rubber, banging into me again.
I threw the door open and jumped out. “What the hell?” I screamed. The Hummer was thoroughly smooshed in, courtesy of the steel bars across the woman’s front grill.
Damn, another crazy one with a license. The woman, not satisfied with her handiwork thus far, revved her engine again.
A gunshot rang out and the front tire of the pickup went flat. Mac stood in the driveway, Smith and Wesson in her hand; Shirl behind her with a Berretta.
“Get out of that piece of shit truck!” Mac yelled and waved her gun. “Now.”
A six foot tall bleach blonde slinked out with legs for days, which were displayed in cutoff jeans that barely covered her lady parts, and red stilettos. She was wearing the tightest T-shirt ever pulled over a pair of double Ds.
“Are you drunk?” I yelled.
“You bitch.” She kicked off her heels, flipping
them into the truck bed. “Where’s your crappy little friend?” Spit flew from her mouth.
I pulled my Glock from its thigh holster. “Forget about her.” I pointed to Mac. “You take one step in my direction and I’ll shoot you. I have a proven track record.”
A taxi pulled up in front and Joseph struggled to get out, reaching back to grab a couple bags of groceries.
Shirl holstered her gun and hustled to help.
“I wouldn’t shoot one of Brick’s top dancers if I was you,” Joseph said, and spit into the bushes. “I want a rent credit for that good advice. Hey, Mango,” He nodded to the blonde, “Be careful, she shoots people.” He pointed at me, giving the two bags in his hands to Shirl and shuffling up the driveway.
I looked at the back of the Hummer and really wanted to shoot her. So this is Mango, Gunz’s psycho, nose-biting, black-mailing girlfriend.
“Just so you know, Mango, you just dented one of Brick’s autos. Good luck explaining that one. Now what do you want?”
“I want what you and your bitch friend stole from me,” she screeched. “Don’t bother lying from those puny lips of yours, Bitsy told me.”
“First of all, you stole the book to begin with and held it hostage, you greedy bitch. The only reason you’re not dead is because you-know-who likes to bang you.”
Two men from the rental house across the street came outside, sat in a couple of rickety chairs, and put their feet up, smoking and sucking down a beer. One gave me a thumbs up.
“I’m calling the cops.” Mango deliberately sent a stream of spit in my direction.
“Dare you. Do you want to use my phone?” I pulled my phone from my pocket, holding it up.
Mac laughed. “I’ll call for you. I think handcuffs would look good on you.”
Mango regarded me with an unflinching stare. “That was my retirement and ticket to the good life.”
“Consider yourself lucky that the disgruntled party got his book back, because at some point he’d stop thinking with his dick and you’d disappear—never enjoying one day of ‘the good life.’ Get out of here and don’t come back,” I warned her.
Mango looked at my gun and then Mac’s. “This isn’t over,” she said, and got back in her truck.
“If you’re planning on a long life, it better be!” I yelled.
Mango flipped me the double finger through the windshield, screaming every variation of the ‘F’ word she could think of out the window. She ground her gears in reverse, and, with steel-on-concrete scraping noises, made a dramatic exit, running on the rim of the bad tire. She rolled into the planter across the street and sparks flew all the way to the corner.
The two men across the street wolf whistled and clapped their hands over their heads.
“What the hell was that all about?” Mac holstered her gun.
“Backlash from a little job, Fab retrieved some stolen property and returned it to its rightful owner. Anything new going on? What’s going on with Shirl and Joseph?” I tossed my head in the direction of his cottage.
“It’s the nurse thing. She looks out for Joseph and Miss January. Oh and by the way, Miss January confessed she’s selling her urine for cash.”
“Who buys urine?” I rolled my eyes. “She was probably drunk.”
“She sells fresh pee to Carly, who’s on probation and subject to random testing. She takes clean pee to every appointment to pass her drug tests.”
I knew Carly by reputation as a neighborhood drunk, and I knew it would be bad news for her to be hanging around here. “Let me guess, you put a bag of pee in your pocket and no one notices?”
“Sometimes you have your Dorothy in the cornfield moments.” Mac shook her head at me in disbelief.
“Don’t make me shoot you.”
“You’re so ungrateful after I saved you from that long-legged Amazon.” Mac held up her skirt, admiring her legs.
Who ties their flip-flops around their ankles? I snapped my fingers. “Educate me about clean pee.”
“Miss J pees in a bucket. Carly has already stopped at the gas station, bought a small energy bottle and washed it out, turns out it’s the exact number of ounces you need. Give it a quick nuke and secure it in your underwear to keep it warm. Fresh is a cheaper buy than synthetic, which you can get online but costs fifty dollars.”
“I’m so glad I don’t do drugs. What if you get caught?” I grabbed my water bottle off the seat and finished it off.
“Carly violates her probation, gets arrested, and gets extra jail time.”
“What happens to Miss January if stupid Carly rolls on her for leniency or just because she’s having a bad day?” I asked.
“The sheriff will issue an arrest warrant. Most likely gets probation because she doesn’t have a record.” Mac pulled a chewed piece of gum out of her pocket. “I can’t shoot and chew at the same time and I wasn’t done yet.”
I bit my lip and looked down. Laughing would only encourage her. “Does Miss January need the money?”
“Told Shirl she always wants a cigarette in her mouth; calms her nerves. She had to cut back when the prices sky-rocketed.”
“That’s great, and when she’s drunk and one of them falls out of her mouth and sets her muumuu on fire, then what? Carly’s banned from the property. I’ll deliver the message.” I made a mental note to talk to that dumb drunk. A threatening conversation might save me bail money.
“Carly used to buy it from her mother, but when dear old mom raised her prices she looked for a cheaper alternative. Once she eliminated her drug-addicted friends, her choices were slim.”
I couldn’t imagine asking Mother to provide clean pee so I could pass a drug test. Much to Mother’s relief, I’m sure, neither Brad nor I took a liking to drugs.
“You know how I’m always doing nice things for you, showing up to work on time, that kind of thing?” Mac asked.
“Yes. Now what do you want? Before you ask, I reserve the right to say no.”
“Can Shirl stay as a regular?” Mac blurted. “She had movers lined up for the weekend but her ex, Ronnie, went over to the new place and started a fight with the landlord and he rented the unit to someone else. Besides, she likes it here. She can pay. Her nursing skills have already come in handy. The other night when Miss J passed out on the porch, Shirl knew she wasn’t dead.”
Hmm…a nurse!
Shirl kicked the office door open but caught the knob before it hit the wall. “Did you ask her?” She looked at Mac.
“There is one other thing,” Mac continued. “When Shirl moved out, she stored her boxes in the ex’s garage with his permission and now he won’t give them back. Says he’s going through them and what he can’t sell, he’ll give away. Maybe you and Fab could retrieve them?”
Wait until Fab heard about this job, I thought. “Allowing you to move in violates my no-more-full-time-renter rule, but I’ll make an exception as long as you follow the rules.”
“What rules?” Mac looked suspicious.
“No drugs, second time the sheriff pays you a visit, you move with no whining. No sex in the pool. You stop paying and I’ll have you forcibly moved out.”
“The sex part sounds fun, but I can follow those rules.” Shirl stuck out her knuckles. “I called the sheriff on Ronnie about my boxes, and they questioned him. He lied and said I took everything with me. He opened the garage and told them everything in there belonged to him,” Shirl said.
“Text me Ronnie’s address; make room for a delivery at your cottage.” I reached for the doorknob. “We have two half-dead people who live here; if you’d keep an eye out, I’d appreciate it. See you two later.”
“Can I call for bail money?” Shirl giggled.
“If you can pay me back.” I stopped at my front bumper and took a couple of pics with my phone, and then went around the back and did the same. Wait until Brick sees the damage.
* * *
I blew through the doors of Famosa Motors, and when Bitsy looked up, her “I love everyone” s
mile disappeared. The caged look in her eyes told me she knew her business deal blew up in her overly made-up face.
“Your double-crossing greed is the reason the Hummer’s all smashed up.” I crossed to the reception desk.
“Get away from me,” Bitsy scrambled for her purse and pulled out a gun.
“You’re not your usual friendly self,” I leaned across the desk, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and yanked her off her chair, which rolled out from under her. She dropped her gun and it slid under the filing cabinet. Bitsy jerked against the hold I had on her, and I was left clutching a wig.
“Give that back,” Bitsy yelled, swiping at the hairpiece and coming up with air.
I twirled around the mess of fake blond hair and flung it at her, wiping my hands on my skirt. “You think you’re going to get away with selling bad information? Watch your back.” I walked to the staircase.
“You bitch,” Bitsy screeched.
“You better talk some sense into your friend Mango or you’re both going to end up hurt or worse.” I raced up the stairs.
Brick sat in his chair, feet up on the desk. “I didn’t hear gun shots, I suppose that’s good.”
I ignored his mocking smile. “I have bad news and I need a favor.”
“You’re ballsy, Red.” Brick’s feet hit the floor. “What the hell now? Bad news first!”
“The back end of the Hummer is all smashed in courtesy of your dancer, Mango. You might check to see if she has insurance. You want me to file a police report? I have witnesses.”
“Mango’s easily excitable; she just needs a firm hand. I’ll take care of everything. Since when did you start pissing off my strippers?” Brick looked me up and down.
“A case didn’t go to her liking.” I pulled my hair off my neck, repositioning the clip. “Two favors: I got my insurance check for the Tahoe. Make me a deal on an SUV. Or since the Hummer’s old and has been in an accident, fix it and discount it to where I can afford the payments. Do you finance?” I smiled.
Murder in Paradise (Paradise Series) Page 15
