“Client’s name?”
“Brick Famosa. You may have heard of him—he writes bail bonds up and down the state and is a private investigator himself. His brother, Casio Famosa, is a decorated Miami police detective.”
Casio won’t appreciate his name being dropped, I thought.
Oh hell. I re-thought the name-dropping business. “If we need a personal reference, you can contact Chief Harder in Miami; he knows us both.” I wasn’t going out on a limb when I said he’d vouch for us. I saw more favor-doing in my future if this officer took me up on the offer.
Fab coughed, which I knew was probably a shocked laugh at my audacity.
“What do you know about Mr. Kasey’s business?” the officer asked, staring between the two of us, closer than before.
“Not a thing.” Fab explained about the custom order and how it went down. “I got a tip he was a car collector and owned a hangar down here, came by to check it out.”
“Stay put.” He walked back to his friends, who were both sitting in the car. They immediately got out when he reached them.
“I’m impressed. You didn’t tell one falsehood,” I said.
“It was painful, but I got through it. It took one second to decide jail was the last place I wanted to end up tonight.” Fab kept her eyes on the police cars. “Here’s a to-do for you. Make sure Phil can arrange bail twenty-four hours a day. Brick’s our first call, but he can’t always be depended on.”
“I’m probably going to have to find us a new attorney. Mac made up with Cruz, but I’m not sure I can rely on him responding promptly, given that I haven’t spoken to him myself,” I said, a worried frown creasing my forehead. “It’s not my fault that when his granny visited, she acted like a horny teenager. Fingers crossed Cruz is over it by now. It’s not like she got arrested; she just bumped knobby knees with Crum, which is dangerous all on its own. I’ll deal with Phil, and you find out from Crum if he uses condoms and if not, suggest it.”
Fab stuck her fingers in her ears and yelled, “Please let us go. She’s driving me crazy.”
Two of the officers turned, one smiled, and they went back to their conversation.
We stood like statues in the steamy Florida weather. Fab did anyway. I took up a game of hopscotch, mostly in place. I hoped excess sweat wouldn’t ruin my dress.
After an interminably long time, two of the officers walked back, the third, already in his car, pulled a u-turn and went back in the direction of the airport. One officer handed us back our identification and handguns.
“Do you know why there wasn’t a stolen car report filed on the car you’re looking for?” Fab’s officer asked.
“You’d have to ask Brick,” Fab said.
He turned his attention to me. “Why don’t you tell me what you know?”
“I looked the address up on Google; that’s the extent of my contribution.”
“You understand we need to check everyone out,” the officer said. “Thank you for your cooperation.” Without waiting for an answer, they went back to their cars.
Fab waited until they were both back in their cars before exploding. “What the hell?”
“I vote we go home, jump in the pool, and get our drunk on.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I was stretched out on the daybed, thoroughly sauced. My first clue was when I’d planted my feet on the wall and saw my toes dancing around.
Didier smiled indulgently. He’d come home early and came out on the patio, stern faced, presumably to quiet down our off-key singing. He ordered us out of the pool, and in reply, we splashed him with water. He bribed us with another drink if we’d come in the house. Now, he and Fab lounged on the couch across from me, and she had her feet in his lap.
Fab downed the last of her martini and slammed the glass down on the table.
“You break it, you buy another set. I won’t have mismatched glasses.” I stuck out my tongue.
She stuck hers out.
“Ladies…” Didier laughed.
The front door blew open, even though it was a relatively calm night. “Look who’s here,” Creole yelled.
“Don’t slam the door,” Fab yelled back.
Bang.
Creole swept into the living room, bowed, and winked at me.
I held up my glass. “If you get me a refill, I’ll kiss you twice.”
Creole stood at the end of the daybed. He arched his eyebrow at Didier. “They both drunk?”
“They’ve had a bad day.” Didier patted Fab’s knees. She giggled. “Brick Famosa. Need I say more?”
“It could have been worse.” Creole bent down and kissed me. “I’ll get the refills.” He pointed to Didier’s beer bottle, and got a nod in return. “Message from the chief.” He looked down at me. “FBI called about your reference. He said to tell you, ‘that makes two.’”
I blew out, “I knew it.”
Fab’s foot nudged Didier’s hand. He kissed her toes and started giving her a foot rub.
I smiled at the sound of the blender. Creole rustled around in the kitchen. He came back, tray in hand, and served the drinks.
“Bricker took it well when I called and ran down how the stop with the police went.” Fab slurred a few of her words. “He’s sending over payment—I didn’t have to prod him—and I mentioned we had to hire a freelancer. Damn happy we didn’t get arrested.”
Didier bit her big toe.
Fab groaned.
Creole stood over me. I held out my leg. “Want to bite my feet? Looks fun.” I giggled.
He leaned down, kissed me, and pulled me to a sitting position. After sitting down behind me, he plumped the pillows and lay back, hauling me back against his chest.
“You two would still be in custody if you’d been caught on the property when the feds rolled up.” Creole took a long swig of his beer. “They’d been watching Kasey for a while. They just got their case together, and a judge issued an arrest warrant. Kasey will probably never get out of prison—twenty years is a long stretch for an older man, and that would be on the light side.”
“Twenty.” Fab whistled. “This ought to be good.”
“Kasey was running a ponzi scheme, getting people to invest their cash in two companies that didn’t exist. Add to that money laundering for one of the biggest South American drug dealers. He was about to take a flight to Brazil with a hundred million in cash. I don’t believe he planned to come back, leaving the wife in the lurch. He cleaned out their accounts, left the house mortgaged to the hilt. Nice guy.”
“The cars?” I asked.
“Kasey sold them to a collector. Anything he owned, he sold, turned into cash. Had a duffle bag stuffed with bundles of hundreds from the sales.”
“Brick any part of this?” Didier asked.
“Appears he was also conned. Good luck getting the car back.” Creole brushed his hands together.
“Do you know if the fed guy call Brick?” Fab asked.
“They did one better and showed up at his office in person. I hear they were all over him like white cat hair on a black suit.” Creole reached out and petted Snow, who’d jumped up and snuggled her head in his hand. “Brick remained cool under pressure, answered their questions. I called a friend at the Bureau from back in the day; he was in on the visit, thought for the most part, Brick came across as truthful but smarmy.”
“You’d be proud of Fab,” I told Didier. “She answered every question directly and truthfully.”
Didier kissed her ankles and said something quietly in French that left Fab blushing.
“What about Kasey’s victims?” I asked. “Do they recoup anything?”
“It’ll be years,” Creole said. “The wheels of justice often lag when huge sums of money are involved.”
Didier slid Fab’s legs off to the side and stood, gathering glasses and bottles and heading to the kitchen.
“Let’s go for a run in the morning,” Creole said to his back.
“Not too early, please,” I groaned.
“You won’t even know I’m gone.”
I arched my head back. “Oh yes I will.” And blew him a kiss.
“Stop.” Fab made a gagging noise. “Don’t ruin the good news that we’re not under investigation.”
“You shouldn’t drink. You’re surly and introverted. Me, on the other hand, I’m outgoing.” When I saw two pairs of raised eyebrows, I amended, “Okay, obnoxious. But a happy drunk.”
“And charming, cherie,” Didier said, sitting down next to Fab. “Sometimes.”
“In the morning, knock, and I’ll be ready in five.” Creole rolled me off him. Standing, he lifted me in his arms, carrying me to the stairs.
“Fab and I will cook breakfast and have it ready when you get back,” I said.
“Sure we will,” Fab groaned.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Big thank you.” Fab said out of nowhere, slinking into the kitchen. She shoved an envelope across the island. “This was delivered by a major delivery company. Even had to sign. Westmont would’ve never paid without your strong-arming him. I’ll try not to complain if I have to put out for the chief.”
I opened the envelope and flicked through the freshly minted money, flashing a smile. I knew without a doubt that she would’ve been stiffed without the chief connection. Another reason I disliked these private clients of hers.
“I’m happy it’s over with. You deserved to get paid. You earned every cent.”
“What are you up to?” Fab flicked the top of my pen.
“Just leaving you a note.”
“Don’t bother. I’m coming.”
“I’m going to meet with Spoon. It might go better if I’m alone. I can pick you up on the way back,” I suggested.
“I am family.” Fab’s hands shot to her to hips in a silent dare. “Wouldn’t Stepdaddy like to see both of us?”
“That stepdaddy moniker is only amusing sometimes. You make it sound downright creepy.” I returned her stare. “Can you behave yourself?”
“Of course,” she sniffed.
Fab grabbed the car keys out of my hand, nudged me out of the way, and flew out the door.
I followed, wincing when she slammed the driver’s side door. “First stop, the Bakery Café,” I said, getting in. “Caffeine and whipped cream are conducive to a good mood.”
Fab whirled through the drive-thru, and I gave her Spoon’s order and told her, “My regular.” I’d gotten Spoon’s favorite from Mother when inquiring where to find him, or ambush him, as Mother put it.
Fab handed me the drink holder and shot across the highway to the other side and down several side streets, taking the back way. She parked in the only visitor parking space in front of JS Auto Body. The repair place didn’t appear to be open for business, but then, it never did. The ten-foot barbed wire fence was meant to be a deterrent to trespassing, and was always closed and locked. Spoon’s guys worked on high-end cars for exorbitant prices and by invitation only. He no longer took new clients, catering only to his well-established client base.
Spoon had the security door unlocked and was standing in the doorway before we got out. “Both of you.” He stared us down. “I believe this is a first.” He took the cardboard tray from my hands. “A bribe? Which one is mine?” He waved his hand toward the leather chairs in front of his desk.
You’d never guess from the outside that this repair business was different from any other, but you’d get your first clue walking into Spoon’s office. The large space was spotlessly clean, with no trace of an oil smell. It had painted concrete flooring and was decorated in silver and black, all masculine. A small kitchenette lined the back wall, and a side door opened to a large full bath. The times I’d visited, I hadn’t seen anyone use the pool table or either of the arcade games. From the sounds emanating through the walls from the bays on the other side, it was a busy day.
“In the spirit of upfront disclosure—” Spoon popped the lid off his coffee, sniffing before taking a drink. “—your mother forewarned me.”
That sniffing thing was something he had in common with Fab.
Spoon flashed an even smile. “Madeline dispensed some advice. She suggested that I listen to what you want and not just agree upfront.”
Fab withdrew her Walther from the back of her waistband and blew on it. “Dusty.”
My head whipped in her direction. “Your promise lasted thirty seconds,” I hissed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m also interested in the answer,” Spoon said, a hard glint to his eyes.
Fab barely acknowledged me. “I wouldn’t shoot our stepdaddy,” she drawled. “Not unless he said no to you or made you cry… something like that.”
Fab and Spoon exchanged deranged smiles. Who won was a toss-up from my vantage point.
“Put that away,” I mouthed, then said aloud, “I know how much you enjoy snooping; why don’t you entertain yourself elsewhere?” I turned to Spoon and pleaded silently.
He nodded. Opening his side drawer, he laid a .44 Magnum Smith & Wesson on his desktop. “I’m not saying I’d shoot you either. While you’re snooping, do not touch anything and stay out of the way.”
Before Spoon changed his mind, Fab stood and slipped out the door.
“You took that well,” I said.
“If she’d been a biological daughter of Madeline’s, not sure I’d have married into the family.”
“Fab does like you.”
He snorted. “Yeah, I like her too. Don’t keep me in suspense, skip to the point.”
“I need a favor.”
No response at first, his face a blank. Then Spoon leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “The point.”
“Hear me out. This involves Chief Harder, and I’m well aware he’s not your favorite person. I needed a favor from him to do a favor for Fab, who is like a real sister to me, and in return, he needs his DeLorean worked on.”
“Do you know why the slimy bastard isn’t my ‘favorite’?”
I shook my head. I’d had no clue they even knew one another until I told Creole the chief’s favor. His response was, “Good luck with that.”
“Your friend, Hard-ass, was instrumental in getting my best friend at the time a plea deal to save his own ass. He testified that I was involved in a drug deal gone bad—the leader ended up dead.” A tic of angry muscle jumped along his jaw. “There wasn’t a scintilla of evidence against me, but plenty showing my friend was in the operation up to his neck – all ignored. Harder wasn’t going to lose sleep over the wrong man going to jail.”
“You were acquitted?” I asked. He nodded. “Thank goodness.”
Spoon downed his coffee, tossing the cup in the trash.
“Your friend, what happened to him?” I asked.
“Disappeared. One day, enough pieces of his body were spit out by an alligator to make an identification. The coroner couldn’t rule it an accident or otherwise. My hunch is the latter. As far as I know, the case got little attention.
No one gave a damn. He wasn’t a man to inspire sympathy.”
The silence hung between us.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked, but I didn’t know.”
Spoon let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s old news. I need to get over it. He’s still a bastard, asking you for such a favor. I’ll do it, but I’m doing it for your sake, not that bastard’s.”
“You’re the best. I’m willing to facilitate the whole process; you’ll never have to speak to him.”
“This isn’t some freebie,” he ground out.
“We didn’t discuss money.”
“Harder pays or forget it. I’m not relenting on that. No respectable man lets a woman pay his auto repair bill.”
“I’ll get the address for pickup. I can be there, and the driver can deal with me. Same on the return.”
“Not necessary. I’ll handle it.”
“You sure?”
Spoon nodded. “What was the favor?”
I told him about the college girl
limo ride, the trouble on the way home, and laid it on a little thick about how the chief had saved us from arrest.
“Your mother isn’t going to be happy that she knew about none of this. She’s already told me she wants a verbatim replay of our conversation today. At one point, I expected her to demand that I record it.”
I laughed. “You can tell her. I’m happy she can badger you that way.”
He frowned, but the sides of his mouth quirked up. “What other trouble have you gotten into?”
I ran down the details of the latest Brick case.
“Read about that online. Thought it was stupid that the man stuck around so long. That was his biggest mistake after getting involved in the scheme in the first place.” Spoon made a note on his desk calendar. “I’ll have Harder’s car picked up tomorrow. Don’t make a habit of this, get my meaning?”
I groaned and told him about Harder’s part in the Naples fiasco and how he’d vouched for us. According to Creole, it was what kept us out of jail. “He holds another IOU.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t have a second car.” Spoon shook his head.
“This doesn’t have to be a one-way street, you know. You need something, ask. Answer is yes.”
“Just keep your mother happy, and whatever you do, don’t get arrested. You ever think about another line of fun and games? One with no guns involved.”
“Got any ideas?”
“I come up with something, I’ll call.”
“I’m about to make Mother really happy. I’ve got a date ambush for her to set up. Brad’s going to be her victim this time. I’m roping in Liam as a co-conspirator. She gets a twofer: a family dinner and the chance to meddle in her son’s love life. Raise your right hand.”
“No. I won’t say anything; this can be your surprise.” Spoon unleashed a growly laugh.
I told Spoon about Phil’s crush.
“He’s stupid if he passes on getting to know that morsel better.”
“An added plus: there’s no mental instability in her background,” I said.
Lottery in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 11) Page 21
