Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 06 - Revenge in Paradise

by Deborah Brown

  Mother had been right; the inside corner table had a view of the entire length of the water. A few boats parked nearby, their outside lights on, which danced off the water.

  “No Tequila?” Fab asked.

  I wrinkled my nose, looking at the red wine I ordered. “My favorite alcohol and I need some time apart.”

  “You should try my vanilla vodka, you’d like it,” Fab said.

  “I hung my head in a toilet for hours over a fifth of vodka. Stayed sick for five days. The thought makes my stomach jump.”

  “Really, Madison,”—Fab channeled Mother—“is that appropriate dinner talk?” She shook her finger.

  Creole and Didier laughed.

  “Good imitation.” Creole gave her a thumbs up.

  Didier looked between Fab and me. “How did you two meet?”

  “She interrupted a breakfast meeting and created a scene in the restaurant by pouring a pitcher of water over her boyfriend’s head, who happened to be sitting across from me. I kept an eye on her from the time she stalked in, and moved out of the way just in time. Imagine that?” Fab said.

  I shook my head. “I remember our first meeting a little differently.”

  Imagine that!

  “I came home from a lousy day,” I explained, “and there she stood in the kitchen window, waving. Hard to believe, she picked the lock and made herself at home.” I made a face at her.

  “No need for surliness. Didn’t I teach you to pick locks?” Fab asked.

  “She built this door-lock contraption as a get well gift. I’m practicing again.”

  Didier pulled her close and kissed her cheek.

  “Let me guess, she moved in the next day?” Creole asked.

  “Not right away, but once again, I came home and her suitcases were at the bottom of the stairs, boxes in the garage, feet on the couch, Jazz asleep on her chest. Best day ever.”

  “I never wanted a friend, but she hounded me. Then came the bribes of shoe shopping which wore me down.”

  We must have timed it right because our food arrived lightning fast. We toasted to friendship. My first bite of scallops was heavenly. Everyone was happy with their selection.

  “How did you two hook up? She kick your ass and drag you home?” Creole asked Didier.

  Didier leaned over and whispered in her ear, “…cave woman…”

  I gazed up at Creole and laughed. He winked. I knew he also heard Didier.

  “We met briefly at a party. And I thought she was exquisite.” He blew her a kiss. “To my disappointment she vanished. Imagine my surprise when I opened my wallet and a card lay on top with her name and number scribbled down.”

  Fab smiled at him. “He was an easy mark. Getting inside his jacket, I had to restrain myself from marking his chest with my fingernails, reminding myself there would be plenty of time later.”

  “You couldn’t just stick out your hand and say, ‘Hi, I’m the fabulous Fabiana,’” I asked. “What if he had never called?”

  “I’d have tracked him down and ‘drug his ass’ home, as he so eloquently put it.” She glared at Creole.

  Didier smiled at me. “And you two?” He looked at Creole. “Did he arrest you?”

  “He had the use of a cottage when I inherited them. I don’t think he actually lived there; he just came and went at random times. My aunt had put a ‘no eviction’ note on his file. He skulked around, an occasional glimpse now and then. One day he showed up at my house and introduced himself, that’s how I found out we were cousins.”

  “You have to stop with that story.” Creole pulled on the ends of my hair. “Some people will think…you know what they’ll think, and spread it around town.”

  “I lived in a hotel when I met Fabiana.” Didier patted her hand. “She invited me to Madison’s one night for dinner and a swim and I never left. A few days later, when I had an appointment, she went back to the hotel, packed up my clothes, and checked me out. It surprised me when my keycard didn’t work in the door. After a chat with the front desk, I called her and she said, ‘Did I forget to tell you?’”

  “I remember meeting you that first morning over coffee,” I said. “You were half-naked, had terrible bed-head, and spoke to me in French. I nearly swooned. Since then you’ve charmed your way through every woman in the family.”

  Didier looked embarrassed. “It always surprised me you never asked where I came from or when I was leaving. Now I feel like part of your family.”

  “Mother adores you. Spoon, on the other hand, glares a lot but only because you make her blush and giggle.”

  A scruffy, middle-aged man with mean, beady eyes hauled a chair up to the table and plunked down. Tall and lean, his ill-fitting clothes hung on him. He brandished a gun and pointed it at Fab. “Remember me, Fababean?”

  I squinted at him. “Wouldn’t that be fava bean? I tend toward greasier foods myself.” I groped my thigh, remembering none of us had accessorized with guns. We’d have to get creative.

  “Shut up. In fact, all of you keep your mouths shut and listen or my first bullet will find its way to her throat.” He waved the muzzle in Fab’s direction. “I can watch the life gurgle out of her.” He made a choking noise.

  I gave a quick glance around the restaurant; no one seemed to notice. He had his back to the room and had attracted no attention. I didn’t see that as a plus for our side.

  Fab spoke up. “You and me, let’s go outside, nice and quiet-like. We’ll have a chit chat over old times.”

  Creole pushed his chair back, and the man cocked his gun. “Sit back. Don’t be a dead hero.”

  “Where are your manners?” I said to Fab. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

  “What do you want, Devil?” Fab quirked her brow, she was assembling some kind of hasty plan.

  “Family name?” Didier glared at him. “I’m sure we can come up with an amicable solution that doesn’t leave anyone bleeding or dead.”

  “You, Fababean, all the ways I planned to make you pay, slow and methodical. In the beginning I wanted cash, but I think I’ll settle for revenge.” Devil grinned at her, two bottom teeth missing.

  “Listen to me, Devil, I had nothing to do with your going to jail,” Fab said.

  “You helped set me up, drugged me, or else I would’ve been long gone when the cops showed up, instead of waking up surrounded, the briefcase of cash missing, and under arrest for the stolen goods in my possession.”

  “You were a thief. Did you forget you stole all those items?”

  “You’re such a liar. This is nothing but revisionist history. Remember your client, Harry Newlin, biggest scum hole ever? He bragged to me during his brief stint in jail; you delivered the briefcase and he had bail money.”

  “This matter can be solved in a civilized manner. We can get you another briefcase,” I said.

  Creole kneed me under the table so that I knew something was about to happen, but what?

  “You really are a dumb bitch, you know?” Devil scowled at me.

  I cocked my head. “No, I didn’t know that,” I said, and caught the tail end of a hand signal between Didier and Creole. Devil missed it in his show of disgust.

  “Devil,” Fab said, “you get up and leave nice and quiet and I owe you one. If you shoot me, you’ll end up in jail for the rest of your scrawny life. You get one shot and then I promise that these two,”—she motioned to Didier and Creole—“will beat you to death.”

  Creole radiated controlled anger. He never took his eyes off Devil. “You’ve got a three-count to get up and leave or I’ll send you to hell.” He nudged me and pointed downward.

  “You remind me of a pimp I knew, worked the girls around North Miami. On slow nights he had them selling drugs. Go ahead, move, it will be my pleasure to kill her,” Devil said as he eyed Fab.

  The waiter arrived with a much-needed distraction, dessert menus. Devil was momentarily distracted. Didier flipped the table, sending food and drink flying. Devil’s gun dropped to the floor. Creole le
apt over the table like a feral tiger, planting his shoe in Devil’s chest and sending him to the ground. Lying face up on the floor, Devil wiggled his fingers in the direction of his gun. Didier’s foot came down on his wrist, and kicked it toward Creole.

  Devil screamed, his hand hanging at an odd angle.

  Fab moved from behind Didier, raised the hem of her dress above her knees, and kicked Devil in the groin with the toe of her high heel.

  Creole flipped Devil from his fetal position on to his stomach. “Hey, model boy, I’ll take your belt.”

  Creole grabbed Devil’s wrists in one hand and he passed out. He secured his hands with Didier’s belt and his feet with his own, leaving Devil face down. He dropped a white linen napkin over the Smith & Wesson handgun, depositing it onto the only chair that had not been overturned. He turned his back, and took out his phone.

  Fab and I exchanged looks, neither one of us happy that we couldn’t hear a word.

  “A free side show is always good for business.” The manager approached and introduced himself, clearly not unhappy about the mess. Not a single customer left; the ones close by watched and continued to eat. When Devil was secure, a smattering of claps followed. “Do you mind dragging him outside to await the cops that are on their way?” He toed Devil roughly. “Free meal next time you come back.”

  Chapter 28

  Fab and I changed into bathing suits and took our morning coffee down to the beach, sitting on the bottom step, toes in the sand. I bent over and sifted my fingers through the white powder.

  “I’ll go find out what the new crisis is at The Cottages,” I told her. “I’m not the one who stared down the barrel of a gun last night.”

  Fab hesitated, lost in thought. “How soon do you suppose it will be before Devil is on the loose again?”

  “Creole assured me last night that we’d seen the last of Devil.” I put my arm around her shoulder. “You and I are a package deal. He looks out for the both of us.”

  “My only regret is that I couldn’t kick his little friend up to his tonsils before the cops drug him off,” Fab said.

  “You’re coming with me.” I grabbed a hold of her arm. “I’ll drive, you can sit back and relax.”

  In one swift movement, she had me sitting in the sand while she ran up at the steps. At the top, she yelled down, “I’ll drive, you whine for me to slow down.”

  It was worth picking myself up and slapping the sand off my skirt and legs to hear her laughing.

  * * *

  It surprised me Mac wasn’t sitting outside soaking up the sun. We found her sitting behind her desk, legs propped up, reading a romance novel for which she had a voracious appetite. I appreciated that she wore shorts under her bohemian-looking dresses and skirts.

  “You better sit for this one,” Mac said, and motioned to the chairs in front of her desk. Fab had already claimed the couch.

  The door banged against the wall and Shirl rushed in. “You don’t mind if I listen in do you? Mac has a tendency to leave out details in the retelling. They dribble out later.”

  “I do not.” Mac kicked the top of the desk.

  “Do too.” Shirl plopped into a chair next to me.

  “Stop! You’re making my head hurt. Do we act like this?” I said to Fab, who feigned sleep.

  “When do you two go anywhere without each other?” Shirl smirked.

  I wrinkled my nose at Fab, who opened one eye. “We’ve found it to be a health hazard not to travel as a pack; safety in twos.”

  Fab flipped the shutter up and looked out the window as a car missing its muffler bumped down the street. “And a needed sounding board while trying to figure out what the hell to do next.”

  Mac sat up, throwing her feet on the floor, looking at me. “Miss January is in jail and she’s not getting out anytime soon.”

  I covered my ears with my hands. “I don’t want to hear this,” I said, and sighed. “What, no bail for a serial drunk?”

  “Try felony drug possession, obstructing an investigation, and resisting arrest,” Mac said.

  Shirl spoke up. “I talked to a friend at the sheriff’s office and he said they already offered her a deal, but she claims not to remember anything about last night, and is adamant she didn’t know what they were talking about. She blacked out during booking and then got transferred to the hospital where she regained consciousness, and was transferred to a medical unit where she’ll be for a few days.”

  “Miss January doesn’t do drugs. Is there a beginning to this story you could start at?” I asked Mac.

  “You’re not going to like this next part. It seems as though she decided to party with her old friend Carly and her friend Ruthie. Since Miss January drinks all day, I assume she was pretty well hammered when they came and picked her up. They spent a few hours at Custer’s and then left for an unknown location. Not long after, they got pulled over in a residential neighborhood by the roundabout. Carly was behind the wheel, Miss January in the passenger seat, and Ruthie in the back. All three got arrested.”

  “Where do the drugs come in?” I asked.

  “Carly got charged with drunk driving, Ruthie resisting arrest, and when they helped Miss January out of the car, she had a pocket full of eight-balls. The cops say she tried to dump them in the bushes, and then became belligerent when confronted.”

  “She doesn’t have the money to buy any quantity of cocaine,” I said. “Those two remind me of when you were a kid and not allowed to hang out with someone because all you ever did was get into trouble.”

  “Don’t look at me,” Fab said. “I wasn’t allowed to have fun friends. I got into trouble once in grade school and we were separated and never had contact again.”

  “She won’t be allowed visitors until she’s transferred to a cell.” Shirl’s phone beeped. She smiled, answering a text.

  “I’ll bet you they’re Carly’s drugs and she didn’t want to go down for the charge because of her extensive rap sheet,” I said.

  “How are you going to prove that, Nancy?” Fab asked me. “Especially with Miss January’s faulty memory.”

  “I’ve read every Nancy Drew book five times.” Shirl smiled at Fab in a way that was akin to hero worship.

  I shook my head. Fab could tell Mac and Shirl to do some outrageous things and they’d hop to it.

  “Any idea what bail will be?” I knew Miss January could never come up with bail of any amount.

  “My friend said no bail for now,” Shirl said. “With no previous record, they don’t want her, they want dealer information.”

  “You might as well know that Carly is out of jail. She spent a grand total of five hours in a holding cell and was released when her mother posted bail,” Mac informed us.

  I poked my finger over Mac’s shoulder, until she turned. “Please,” I said, pointing to the snack bowl.

  She dug around and pulled out another of my favorites, a mini Snickers.

  “I can’t kill Carly,” I said, although I liked the idea. “I need to squeeze information out of her, then she needs to take her wacked-out mother and move to some other part of the Keys, or rather, some other part of the states, which would be more preferable. They should try Washington.”

  Fab grabbed a handful of darts and threw them. Three landed in the bull’s eye, the other two went wild. “Carly’s not going to rat out a dealer if the guy is anything like the ones I’ve known in the past. Shortens your life span.”

  “If I make my own jail appointment, I have to wait a week. Brick is out of the question. You could ask that favor for me,” I pleaded to Fab. “I don’t want to owe him anything.”

  “If you were nicer to the sheriffs around here, you’d have more connections,” Shirl said, and smirked.

  “I’m working on my attitude. I invited Kevin to dinner, and that turned out to be a fiasco. Cornered your new boyfriend the other day,” I said to Shirl. “Besides the sex, how is the rest of the relationship going?”

  “I’d like to go out and show St
even off, but I know he’s tired after a long day at the office. He doesn’t really like selling insurance,” Shirl told us.

  So Help’s name is Steven. Probably not; most likely another lie. Insurance––couldn’t he make up a more exciting job? My guess was that he didn’t own a suit, so how could he pass himself off as a businessman?

  “Have him give me a call.” I smiled. “I’ll review my insurance with him, throw some business his way.”

  “I think he may be the one,” Shirl gushed.

  “How did you meet him?” Fab asked. She’d only had one encounter with Steven and that was when she threatened to shoot him in my driveway.

  “I met him at the hospital when he came in as a patient, head trauma. He’d gotten mugged. I thought he and Creole were friends. Thought I saw him visit Steven, but he said no. He makes me laugh. We have the best time together.”

  Who knew Help had a sense of humor? He’s going to break her heart and I’m going to feel scummy watching it happen. I couldn’t tell her he was an undercover cop––that had to be his call.

  “Would you find out what you can about Miss January and how she’s doing?” I asked her. “Let me know when she gets transferred. Free dinner to your sheriff friend and anyone else he wants to bring into Jake’s.”

  Mac looked thoughtful. “I wondered why the sheriff would be staking out a residential neighborhood in the middle of the night. I thought about this and I thought that maybe the cops had the location staked out, house under surveillance, and the women got popped when they drove away having concluded business.”

  “I’ll call Creole. Once she’s transferred to county, he can get someone to keep an eye out for her; hopefully she won’t get into any trouble. How’s she going to deal with being sober?” I closed my eyes, hoping she wouldn’t die in custody.

  “She needs to detox under supervision or any number of complications could arise and she could end up dead. The worst thing for a body is to go cold turkey,” Shirl said.

  I looked at Fab. “I’ll have to find out who her attorney is so I can apprise him of her problems and hopefully he won’t let her linger in jail if it can be helped.”