“I’ll do the sneaking around, you stick to the street; you see security guards or cops, call me. Then double back and I’ll meet you at the car. At least we know it’s a safe rendezvous point.”
“Promise me, word of honor, you’re not going to break into the widow’s house?”
“I’ve thought about it, but I’m not prepared, and it would be a bad decision.”
I didn’t believe a word she said; Fab was more prepared than any Girl Scout.
* * *
A quick look at the tag in the window and the guard waved us onto the ferry. Fab and I decided not to attract any unwanted attention and agreed to stay in the SUV for the ride across the Biscayne Bay. I breathed a sigh of relief when we drove away from the dock. I kept looking out the side mirror; everything had gone so smoothly. It wouldn’t surprise me to see lights flashing and hear sirens behind us. Brick had put directions in the envelope, but we ignored them in favor of GPS. Fab pulled into the driveway when we got to the address Brick gave us. She inserted the card and the electric gates that surrounded the perimeter of the property opened. It didn’t look like anyone was home, but all the houses looked like that. No one opened the door and waved to us.
My first choice would’ve been to sit by the pool with my feet in the water. Instead, I struggled to look inconspicuous, walking down the street in front of the murder mansion. Before they noticed me, I saw bike riders coming around the curve, a young couple laughing. Creole raised his sunglasses, blue eyes rock hard. Smile vanishing, he shifted his attention back to his friend.
Curiosity killing me, I turned and watched them pedal away. Creole looked good in a pair of white shorts and a golf shirt, his creamy caramel-colored skin reddened by the sun.
They turned their bikes into the Wright’s driveway. I recognized the woman as Chrissy Wright, and she, too, was dressed in total white. She didn’t look so sad, and apparently had cut her grieving short. Chrissy and Creole made a striking couple. He turned and shook his finger before disappearing up the driveway.
I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and called Fab. When I got no answer, I texted her to let her know trouble just got back to the manse. Creole and the widow looked comfortable together. Were they dating? Had they known each other before the murder?
I ran back down the street to the house where we parked the SUV. Six turns later, I had the Mercedes turned around in the driveway, awaiting Fab for a fast getaway. If I crossed my fingers hard enough, would it keep her from getting caught? I slumped behind the wheel, waiting, checking my watch every few seconds.
The electric gate opened and Fab appeared out of nowhere and hopped into the passenger side. “This wasn’t the worst idea I’ve ever had, but damned close.”
“Did you get caught inside?” Not hearing sirens, I put my foot on the gas and lurched out of the driveway.
Fab rolled her eyes but refrained from a snotty comment. “The widow has some impressive security; spent my time trying not to get my face on camera. Thank goodness I was standing outside the patio doors when the lovers came riding up on their bicycles. Didn’t take Creole long to move in there. The widow looked at him like a delicious morsel. Her husband’s been buried; time to move on.”
“That was going to be my bad news. Creole saw me hanging out in the street, he knew you were at the house. I think we need to hide from him for a few days.”
“The widow looked down her snooty nose and pretended to be afraid, pressing her body against Creole, who asked me, ‘What are you doing here?’ I decided to channel a Madison Westin story. What would you say? Then I told her I came to offer my condolences, sad for her loss, and although I had been married to Gabriel at one time, I had nothing to do with what happened at her house that night. Then I wiped the non-existent tears from the corner of my eyes.”
“I’m so proud. And tears, too? That’s proof you do listen to me.” I gave her a big smile.
“The widow then said she hoped the police knew what they were doing when they released me from jail. She asked how I got on the island, and did I check in with security. Creole interrupted her, thanked me, and told me I should leave and not to come back. He put his arm around her, whispered something in her ear, and they went into the house. I walked to the road and, when out of sight, ran the rest of the way.”
“She gives new meaning to the term, ‘grieving widow.’” I got in line behind several cars waiting for the ferry. “I’ll be glad when we get off the island.”
“I’m more convinced than ever that there’s a third man involved. Gabriel was in cahoots with Maxwell Wright, and the third one got away. He didn’t leave a single clue in his briefcase as to who that might be.”
“Now what?” I drove onto the ferry, shut off the engine, and ran around to the passenger side. “We need to return this car. I’m going to tell Brick to get me a deal on a new Tahoe. I’m going to miss the Hummer, but I’m tired of not having my own ride.”
“You could trade sexual favors for info with Zach?” Fab climbed over the seat.
“I tried that and he figured it out in a second. We swapped spit and not a lot of information. If you want to trade favors, the man in the power seat is Detective Harder.”
“Are you suggesting he and I...” Fab choked. “We can’t stand one another.”
“Even if you could stand one another, I wasn’t suggesting you tie him to one of my light fixtures and rock his world. I’m suggesting a professional favor. An info exchange.”
“Hmm...That’s where a best friend comes in, a really good friend, one who could set up a meeting. He at least likes you,” Fab said.
“Best-friend promise that you keep whatever agreement that the two of you make and if you can’t, don’t swear upfront. You are not to screw him over. If I vouch for you, you damn well better keep your word.”
“When can you make it happen?” Fab held out her pinky finger.
“I’ll put it on my list.”
CHAPTER 29
Fab and I sat by the edge of the pool, occasionally kicking water on the other, laughing, enjoying ourselves.
“Got your car. Get down here and pick it up,” Brick barked through the phone when I answered.
“What was that about?” Fab asked over the rim of her coffee cup.
“Brick’s short on social skills but good on his word. He’d said he’d have my new Tahoe in a week and it’s been delivered.”
“What’s it costing you?” Fab didn’t concern herself with the cost of cars; she worked a super-secret deal that let her trade-in her cars when she got bored.
“I told Brick he better beat the sticker price. I reminded him that I wouldn’t be like the rest of his clients who showed up with a bag of cash. He agreed to accept a cashier’s check from my insurance payoff and to finance the rest. I made it clear I wasn’t interested in being in the loaner program. There were too many strings attached. I want the luxury of saying no.”
“I’ll go with you, I like new cars.” Fab jumped up, but not before kicking more water on me.
“I’m going to be the first one to drive my car, not you,” I sighed. “You don’t need to go anyway. Why start trouble with Bitsy?”
“I didn’t tell you? Must have slipped my mind. Paid her a late night visit and negotiated new terms. Oh, don’t look so horrified, I didn’t hurt her.”
“Forget, my ass,” I fumed. “She probably went straight to Brick.”
“Don’t think so. I explained to her the benefits of my not being an enemy. Told her I better not ever hear that my name crossed her lips. We parted friends, no hard feelings.”
We grabbed our bags sitting on the entry bench. Once inside the front door, everything ended up there unless it went in the refrigerator.
Fab, in one of her possessed moods, decided to set a record of how fast she could get to Brick’s. I pulled my seat belt tight and closed my eyes.
“Where was your Glock?”
“You know I pack a Walther PPK. I’m offended you think I can’t carry
on a persuasive conversation without a gun.”
“Your stories need work. You could stand some tutoring, call Mother. Teach her something illegal and she’ll teach you to lie better.”
Fab laid on the horn; the driver of the other car, not amused, hung her finger out the window and cut around a little close to the front bumper. “Your mother scares me a little. I’ve never seen anyone hold their own with the likes of Spoon and she has him wrapped. And what if she gets arrested because of something I taught her?”
“And when Brad finds out we’re dead. We’ll need to pack and leave town.”
Fab ran the yellow light and zipped into Famosa Motors.
I looked around for my new ride. The only Tahoe was a white one, and I’d seen it parked there before. The Hummer sat at the front, detailed to perfection. The auto body shop had worked its magic, and you’d never know it had its back end bashed.
“You deal with Brick. I have a snitch who works here. I need to remind him of our special relationship.” Fab adjusted her gun at the small of her back.
Bitsy’s smile never faltered when I walked in the door. “Brick said you could go straight up, he’s not in a very good mood.”
If she wanted to pretend nothing ever happened that was fine with me.
I walked into Brick’s office; he was on the phone arguing with someone in Spanish. He motioned me to one of the uncomfortable chairs in front of his desk. It was a big joke with him that they were horrible, he didn’t have to sit in them. I decided to stand at the window and scan the lot for my new ride.
Brick slammed the phone down. “Sit,” he pointed. “This is your lucky day; I’m in the mood to negotiate. Show me your check.”
I had my insurance settlement for days, turning it into a cashier’s check. “I’m preapproved to finance the rest with Tarpon Bank.”
“Here’s the deal, take it or leave it. I’ll take this,” he said, and took the check out of my hand, “and you get the Hummer.”
I shook my head. “Hummer? The check is a whole lot less than what you say the used car is worth. What’s the catch?” When something appears too good to be true, my little voice told me, Beware. Don’t jump across the desk all gushy.
“Women!” he yelled. “It’s a damn classic. You’d be doing me a favor. I need it off the lot now and I don’t have another buyer.”
“Are there strings besides the check?”
“Hell yes. Here’s the story and you don’t change a single word. You bought the car back when you first started driving it. The reason it took so long for the title transfer, paperwork glitches, it’s now all worked out, legal like.”
I stood up. “I’m going to pass. I’m not getting pulled over and the title doesn’t pass muster, then I need bail money at your interest rates.”
Brick slammed the desk with his fist. “There’s not a single car on this lot that’s not legit. Sit back down.”
I refrained from using sign language and sat, reaching into his candy dish and taking a fistful of chocolates, throwing them in my purse.
“The problem is my nephew, Bruno. While it was in for repairs, he stole it, taking it for a joyride. He found the title and saw that it was still registered to Famosa Motors. I got a screaming phone call from my sister, how disappointed she was in me because I knew she wanted the car. She even called my wife, crying. My wife, sick of the phone calls, told me to give it to her. I told them both our newly concocted story. I gave my sister two choices: either I’d send a couple of collectors to retrieve the car, but I couldn’t guarantee Bruno’s safety, or I’d call in a felony stolen car report.”
“Bruno brought it back?” Damned kid had more nerve than sense.
“He called and told me to “F” myself; said his mother already gifted it to him. Did I mention he totaled two cars in the last six months? He has two reckless driving tickets, court hearings pending. If he doesn’t get his license revoked, at the very least it will be suspended for a long time. And I’m the bastard in the family,” Brick fumed.
“How did you get it back?” I didn’t feel the least bit bad asking questions that were none of my business.
“Casio spotted it parked in front of a sleazy strip joint in the hood. He used his connections, moved the tow request to the front of the line, and got it back here without having to bash in his smug face.” Brick clenched and unclenched his fists, taking one of those stress balls out of his drawer. “The interior was trashed, clothes, condoms, and liquor bottles in the back.”
“I’ll take good care of it and bring it by for visits.” I tried to make him smile but it didn’t work. “I’m good with the story if anyone asks.”
“I’d rather sell it to you than dump it on another dealer out of state. It’s been detailed inside and out and is ready to go, service up to date. The repair and paint an A+ job.” He shoved papers across the desk. “Sign by the Xs.”
“What happened when Bruno came out and found the Hummer missing?” I asked as I signed.
“Little shit assumed it got stolen, but didn’t tell anyone. He finally fessed up to his mother. She called screaming, worrying over that grown brat’s psyche. I suggested she stick both her feet up Bruno’s ass and we haven’t spoken since. The good thing to come out of it, I gave my wife an ultimatum: my sister or me. That ended the conversation and we haven’t had a single fight since. Wish I’d thought of that sooner.”
“Based on personal experience, if Bruno had the big ones to come here and steal a car off your lot, he’ll be back.”
“I’m one step ahead of you. That little bastard has been banned from here.” Brick’s eyes were black and hard.
I finished signing, double-checked, and handed back the contract.
Brick opened a side drawer and pulled out an 8x10 photograph. “Can you believe what a makeover can do?”
“Vanilla?” The knockout statuesque, now brunette, in a string bikini and heels, long tan legs, smiled back at me. Her hair pulled into a ponytail, and she wore minimal makeup.
“Vanilla became an overnight club sensation. Turns out the combination of her small boobs and long legs are quite the turn-on. Gone is the frightened-deer look, a little confidence and she’s quite charming. There’s a fragility about her that sets her apart from my hardened pros. I told her no pole for her, she hostesses and makes as much as the dancers.”
“You have a little crush?” I asked.
“Maybe a little. I’d never act on it. We sat and had a long talk. She needed someone to give her a chance at a life, not be on the run from her psycho brother who sells road kill. Vanilla is under my protection as long as she works for me, just like the rest of my girls. She doesn’t know this, but Quirky’s been relocated to Mississippi. My guys gave him a choice and he left town.” Brick handed me the keys.
“If you hadn’t hired her, she’d have been out of options and forced into life on the street or to go back to Quirky.”
“Who names their kid Quirky?” Brick snorted.
“Stoners.” I stood up, keys in hand. “Thank you.”
Brick winked. “I didn’t lose money on the deal.”
I laughed. “Of course you didn’t.” I wore a silly smile all the way downstairs.
Fab sat on a concrete bench, babbling in French. I unlocked the passenger door of the Hummer, leaving it open, and went around to the driver’s side to start the engine.
Before Fab got in I said, “Not one word about how awful my driving is, get in and close your eyes like I do.” I pointed to the passenger seat.
“Do you have pictures of Brick with farm animals?”
“A straight-up business deal.” I refrained from squealing the tires out of Famosa Motors and screaming out the window, “It’s really mine!”
CHAPTER 30
My bedroom door opened, and I rolled over. It must be morning, since sunshine streamed through the window.
“Wake up, sunshine, I don’t have all day.” Creole didn’t look happy. Filling the doorway with a black T-shirt stretched
over his abs, I thought to myself that he certainly knew how to fill out a pair of jeans.
“How did you get in?” I wished I could have this confrontation after coffee.
Creole’s blue eyes were angry, his hands behind his back to stay in control, perhaps. “You think Trouble across the hall is the only one who knows how to pick a lock?”
Fab’s bedroom door banged against the wall; she wasn’t happy. “Keep your voice down.”
Creole turned to Fab. “Oh good, you’re awake. Saves me from the special wake-up call I had in mind.” He turned to me. “Coffee’s ready downstairs. Five minutes.”
“Fifteen!” I yelled after him. A quick shower and I’d be ready with evasive answers to his questions.
One good thing about living at the beach: pulling on a skirt and a top, sliding my feet into flip-flops, and tying my hair back in a ponytail, and I had my uniform ready for the day.
* * *
“Did you bring breakfast from The Bakery Café?” I asked as I walked into the kitchen.
“Where’s your friend?” Creole growled.
“I’m right here.” Fab walked in and headed to the coffee pot. She took a sniff and put it back down.
“Your favorite is in its usual place in the refrigerator,” I said, knowing she’d be out the front door in a second and leave me to answer to Creole.
“I feel like a latte and I’ll get you a pecan roll,” Fab said to me, heading to the door.
Creole cut her off and pointed to a chair at the island. “Sit down.” Not quite a yell, but damn close.
“Stop yelling or...” I hesitated, not being able to think of anything. “I’ll tell Mother.”
I glanced at Fab and gave her a stern look; more antics would push him over the edge. Fab could care less. I thought she would laugh.
Creole fished his phone out of his pocket. “Catch.” He tossed me his phone. “I dare you to tell Madeline the two of you snuck onto a private island where you could’ve been arrested.”
“Mother will only be mad she wasn’t invited. And arrested for what? We were invited guests,” I said.
Murder in Paradise (Paradise Series) Page 17
