Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 06 - Revenge in Paradise

by Deborah Brown

  She better not put my eye out.

  “What already?” I asked.

  “Miss January lost her cat again and she’s terribly upset, pacing around, drunken- mumbling.” Mac looked over at her cottage as though she might hear; even if she was outside she’d be drinking or passed out.

  “How can a person misplace a dead cat? Was she pushing it around in the stroller again?”

  “There’s not a damn word about dead cats in my contract.” Mac shuffled nervously. “I heard you got drunk and stood on a table and yelled at everyone in your family. Sorry I missed that.”

  I glared at Mac and cut across the driveway. Miss January’s door stood wide open. She lay passed out on the couch, one leg hung over the side and resting on the floor. I twisted the lever on the glass-front screen door and, to my surprise, it opened. She snored softly, drool running down her chin. I ransacked the place. Finding Kitty in the oven, I covered her with a dishtowel and put her back in her usual place on the couch.

  Not a single personal item sitting out, her tiny cottage was immaculate as always. I’d enjoy seeing a photo or two. A lump in the bed caught my eye, and I recognized the grizzled face as belonging to her boyfriend. I was pleased he didn’t sleep in the buff. I left him to his peaceful snooze and went back in the living room and straightened out Miss January, who stirred a little, slurred her words, and went slack. I threw a light blanket over her. Hopefully, when she woke up, she wouldn’t remember any kitty drama.

  I took the dish towel with me, and when I got back to the office, I balled it up and slam dunked it into the trash. “Put dish towels on your shopping list and give them to Miss January.”

  “How are the love birds?” Fab asked.

  “Drunk and sleeping it off. He’s got nice legs for an old dude.”

  “What did you do?” Fab looked shocked.

  “Not what you’re thinking.” I laughed.

  “Next time you complain about some lunatic I rent to, I’m going to remind you how weird the new gardener you hired is.” Mac shook her head.

  Fab and I stared at her. “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “Mr. Crum is doing a good job for a certified snobby nut case.” She took an emery board out of her desk drawer and proceeded to saw on her fingernail. “I’m surprised you hired a man who wears a skirt––and a very short one.”

  Fab started laughing.

  “I never hired him,” I said, trying not to yell.

  “I’ve got his bill here. I’m going to pay for the plants even though I think he dug them out of someone else’s yard. They didn’t arrive in containers; he had fisted them, roots exposed.” Mac slid the invoice across her desk.

  “Nervy bastard. Pay him and fire him.”

  Stolen plants? Good grief.

  “You might want to hold off until we find someone else. I’m having a hard time, the locals want to mow and go, no plant service.”

  “Your decision, but I don’t want word to spread that the sheriff came here trying to identify stolen flowers.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joseph darting up the driveway. Without a word to Fab and Mac, I chased after him. The closer I got to his cottage, the more my anger grew. I beat on Joseph’s door, leaving him no doubt it was either me or the cops. He had avoided everyone since he’d gotten me arrested. If I had known that he’d just met that Bungee cretin in jail, I’d have left them both at the bus stop and sped home without a glance in the mirror.

  If Joseph thought he could ignore me forever, he was mistaken. I yelled at the top of my lungs, “Get out here so I can kick your ass.”

  Fab and Mac, who had followed me out of the office, laughed.

  I turned and glared at them. Fab drew her Walther, waving it in my direction. I stared for a few seconds, finally realizing the message she was sending. I my put my heel to the door in short kicks. The longer he dawdled and hid out, the more it annoyed me.

  I yelled again, “You open this door or I’m shooting the lock off. Count of three: one…”

  He didn’t need to know I had no intention of filling the door full of bullet holes when I could go to the office and get the key. Besides, the doors had been an upgrade that I installed when I first took over the property, single French glass doors with roll-up plantation blinds.

  “Two…” I yelled again, feeling it in my throat this time. Maybe Creole would find a hoarse voice sexy.

  Joseph cracked the door opened. “I’m calling the sheriff. This is harassment. I’m a sick old man, a Veteran.”

  Reminding me of his service to the country made me feel bad, but not bad enough to stop from unleashing a tirade on him.

  “Get out here.” I pointed for him to stand in front of me.

  He opened the door and stood on the threshold. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his eyes staring a hole in my knees. “I just wanted to help the guy out. I swear I didn’t know he broke out of jail.” His boney shoulders started to shake.

  The anger evaporated out of me seeing him so upset. “Where is Bungee now?”

  “Not in custody, judging by the phone calls I ignore,” he said.

  I groaned. “What does that mean?”

  “Your lawyer sent his lackey over for a statement, and he showed up with a detective. They asked questions and I answered everyone truthfully; I met Bungee in the holding area for the first time.” He slid into the chair next to the door. “My ankles were swollen bad that day and I might have exaggerated my health issues a little, but I didn’t want to get arrested.”

  “And what else,” I demanded. He still hadn’t made eye contact and fidgeted in the chair.

  “Two other detectives showed up, banging on the door a couple of times, and I didn’t open up and invite them in. They’ve got to have a warrant to kick the door down. I figured if I didn’t leave my place, they couldn’t take me into custody.”

  “You might as well face your possible felonies. The worry will kill you instead of the cancer.”

  He scuffed his shoe back and forth on the cement porch. “I called Mr. Famosa to smooth things over. He was totally pissed at being lied to and even angrier when I told him I didn’t have any money.”

  I did a mental eye roll. It surprised me Joseph was still breathing to tell the story and that the cops hadn’t found him dead or that he hadn’t just disappeared. No one screwed with Brick without unpleasant consequences.

  Joseph cleared his throat. “He was more concerned that it would ‘F’ up his relationship with you.” Joseph shuddered. “Then he made a clicking noise, told me that would be the last sound I heard before dropping dead.”

  “How did the conversation end?” I asked.

  “He hung up on me.”

  Signature Brick! Nice to know I’m not the only one who gets hung up on. I’d have Fab call and smooth things over.

  I peered over my shoulder at the sound of male voices at the opposite end of the driveway. Bad Cop and Good Cop stood conversing with Mac and Fab. All four stared in my direction.

  “Looks like the cops are back.” I motioned to Joseph.

  He kicked his chair back, ran into his cottage, and turned the dead bolt.

  I picked up the chair and waited for them as they ambled up the driveway in form-fitting jeans, both in all black. “Hello, officers.” I flashed an insincere smile. All I could think of was going home; if only I’d left a few minutes sooner.

  “We’d like to speak with Mr. LeBeaux. We see he’s finally home,” Bad Cop said, and knocked on the door. Rather civilized in comparison to my obnoxious pounding.

  They both did a leisurely perusal over my body. I glared at both of them.

  “Are you here to arrest him? Does he need a lawyer?” I asked.

  Good Cop frowned at me. “It’s none of your business.”

  I forced myself not to sound snotty. “Do you want him to open the door or not? You can’t kick it in without a warrant.”

  “Just get him to open the door,” he growled. “We have more questions ab
out his friend Benjamin ‘Bungee.’ Have you seen him?”

  Bad Cop returned from looking around the side of the cottage. They had to know by this time that the only two exits were facing the front.

  “Hell no. I would’ve reported him immediately to the local sheriff.” I pulled out my cell phone. “You better not be lying,” I said while texting for Joseph to open up: They’re not here to arrest you. Only questions. “Or I’ll complain to Chief Harder.”

  The lock turned from the inside. Joseph opened the door and motioned them in.

  “They said they just wanted to talk and I believe them,” I told Joseph.

  I turned to the cops and said, “Have a nice day.”

  “What was that all about?” Fab asked when I joined them.

  “Still looking for Bungee,” I said to Mac. “Put out the low-life alert and see if anyone knows where he’s hiding out. The sooner he’s picked up, the sooner these impromptu police visits will stop.”

  Fab snapped her fingers at Mac. “You owe me five.”

  “What did you two wager on this time?” I asked.

  The unmarked police car had caught the attention of the snoopy neighbor next door, who hung out his bathroom window about ready to fall.

  “I bet Joseph wouldn’t answer the door and you’d shoot it off the hinges. Your friend here laughed in my face and took the bet.”

  “We have a new policy,” I informed Mac. “As owner, I’m leaving the dirty work of informing tenants about policy changes to you.”

  “What about her?” Mac tossed her head in Fab’s direction.

  “Requests for bail and rides home from the jail go through the office during regular business hours. If they get released at the crack of dawn, they can wait or walk.”

  “About time,” Fab said, and grabbed my arm.

  I let her drag me to the Hummer. “Thanks, Mac,” I said over my shoulder. “If you get word on Bungee, call me no matter the time.”

  We backed out and Mac untied the jump rope from around her waist, which I thought was just an ugly belt, and started jumping. I winced as her body moved in several directions at once.

  Chapter 27

  I felt the mattress dip. Smiling, hazy with sleep, I stuck out my hand and ran it over Creole’s leg. My eyes flew open and I was to about to scream when a hand hit my shoulder.

  “Shh, it’s me,” Mother whispered. “Were you expecting someone else?”

  I ignored her smirk and squinted at the clock. “A little early isn’t it?”

  “But I brought goodies. I got a little carried away, but nothing seems to go to waste around here. You never have any food, unless it’s vegetables.” She wrinkled her nose.

  Mother and I shared the same dislike for most vegetables unless disguised in a cheese sauce or something that cut the healthy level. Didier was responsible for the green foods that he turned into slimy juice in the morning.

  Mother brushed my hair out of my face. “I don’t like it when we fight. Spoon––notice I didn’t say Spoonie? I’m forbidden to call him that unless we’re in private. Spoon and I argued over something stupid right before we got to Jake’s and I took my frustration out on you.”

  “That’s what started my drinking binge—a misunderstanding with Creole. I don’t know why I can’t be a happy little drunk in the corner instead of a scene maker.” I rolled over and put my head on her chest. “Been staying out of trouble?”

  “Thanks for letting me have the run of the game room, I christened it already. It turned out to be really fun and I know it’s supposed to be for all the customers but I don’t want anyone grubbing it up. I want it available to private parties only.”

  “You have complete control and I trust you.” I smiled up at her.

  She tugged on the ends of my hair. “I want you to know I think you and Creole are a great match.”

  “Why the turn around? You were so worried we’d break up and none of us would be friends anymore.”

  “There are no guarantees. I should know that, your father died too young. I’d have to be blind not to see the way you two look at one another. And when he threw you over his shoulder and carried you out of Jake’s, it was so romantic,” she sighed.

  “That means a lot to me and will to Creole. We won’t have to sneak around anymore, although I think it’s fun, so we’ll probably continue.”

  “Spoon also reminded me that you supported our relationship when no one else did. And he likes Creole.”

  “I have something to confess,” I said, although I couldn’t quite meet her eyes.

  “It doesn’t matter what you did, I love you. Is there a warrant for your arrest?” Her eyes big as saucers, she hugged me.

  “Really, Mother.” I heaved a sigh. “I didn’t go to Marcy’s wedding; she’s been married for two years. I never got an invite, some friend.”

  She frowned at me. “Where did you go? I’m more interested in with whom?”

  “I snuck out of town with my pretend cousin.” I turned red.

  “I knew it! Besides I never liked that loud mouth Marcy girl, snotty thing, even in high school.” She brushed my hair out of my face. “Did you have a good time?”

  “I like him a lot.” My cheeks never stopped burning.

  “This reminds me of the time you threw a party when I went out of town for the weekend and told me a year later.”

  I giggled. “That was a really cool party.” I rolled off the opposite side of the bed. “Let’s go downstairs for coffee and rolls.”

  She looked at Creole’s football jersey that I had on and chuckled. “When I came down the hall, Fab had a ribbon tied to her door handle again. Do you suppose they…you know…all the time?”

  I felt my face get warm again. “Probably.”

  “You know she left a book open on her tablet last week and I started to read.” Mother looked embarrassed. “Romance novels aren’t what they used to be, you know, separate beds and all. She wasn’t happy to see my eyes glued to the screen and took it back.”

  I hugged her and said, “You’re a second mother to her and she doesn’t want to disappoint you.”

  “Good thing I remembered the title of the book. When I told Spoon about it, he bought the book for me. I’ve been reading it to him.” She blushed.

  “Please, please don’t ever tell Brad,” I said.

  We both laughed.

  “We’re made up now aren’t we?” Mother asked.

  “We can have tiffs but nothing more than that.” I kissed her cheek. “Love you this much,” I said, and held out my arms.

  * * *

  Didier looked at his watch for the tenth time, tapping the dial. How he and Fab never broke up over time issues mystified me. He was always punctual, more often early, while Fab arrived when she felt like it.

  “It’s date night,” I gushed to Fab as she floated down the stairs in a mid-calf strapless black dress that tied just above her breasts, a deep slit showing her legs from mid-thigh.

  I had on a black wrap skirt with a large tangerine hibiscus print, tied to the side exposing a generous view of my leg, and a spaghetti strap top to match the flower print.

  Didier let out a low whistle and devoured Fab as though she were one of those new margarita cupcakes I’d seen at the bakery.

  I stood at the garden window over the kitchen sink, unashamed to be staring out impatiently. “He’s here!” Creole’s truck rolled into the driveway parking just behind mine.

  Fab half-smirked. “Let’s hope he knows how to dress outside of work, ditched the crummy clothes and washed his dirty feet.”

  “Why don’t I kick you to the floor and beat the hell out of you?” I balled up my fists.

  “Good luck with that.” Fab rolled her eyes.

  As the front door opened, I ran to meet him. “Look at you, so damn delicious,” I said, and planted a kiss on his mouth. My voice rising, I added, “And to think, Fab thought you would show up looking like a roady in a beach band, you know, skeevy.”

  “I’
m going to rip your hair out. I didn’t say that, exactly,” Fab huffed.

  “Exactly?” Creole growled. “I’ll have you know I can dress myself. I even own my own tuxedo. And look, Didier just gave me the thumbs up. He ought to know.”

  Didier laughed.

  Creole and Didier were dressed almost alike, Creole in black pants and tropical shirt, Didier opting for taupe-colored pants and shirt.

  I gave the address of The Fish Co. earlier to Fab since we agreed to meet at the restaurant I insisted on being able to choose, just so that we didn’t end up in formal wear like the two of them did on a regular basis.

  “Since we’ll be getting there first,” Fab started as she fingered the new black diamond heart pendant Didier surprised her with, “if this turns out to be a dive bar or some crummy broken down restaurant we’re not even getting out of the car.”

  “I’m not driving, so we might beat you down to Islamorada,” I challenged.

  Creole and I left first, since he’d partially blocked Fab’s Mercedes.

  “Is this supposed to be a race?” Creole asked.

  I laughed. “Didier makes her drive the speed limit or somewhere close, anyway. She listens to him. As for me, she only slows down when I threaten to throw up.”

  “If you so much as have a twinge of sickness, hang your head out the window. I’ll hang on to your leg so you won’t fall out.”

  * * *

  Mother recommended the restaurant, raved about the food, and told me to request table number ten by the window; it had the best view of the inlet. The outside looked a little worn, which drew a groan from Fab.

  The inside had been totally modernized to seaside chic. In the center of the room under the tiki-hut ceiling, sat a ginormous round fish tank, an assortment of tropical fish swimming freely with no fear of ending up on someone’s dinner plate. The walls were hand-painted in a soft green seascape with muted tones of yellows and oranges. Tables were set in white linen and shell-decorated candleholders with lit votives.