Christmas in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 13)

by Deborah Brown

Dickie had set up a wide variety of cold sodas and bottled waters in bins filled with ice under a large tiki umbrella in the middle of the patio. Raul shepherded everyone over, and they helped themselves before going to work. Two air compressors and a generator had been unloaded off one of the trucks and were now being used to blow up the various pieces. A small assembly line formed, tying string and pounding in stakes.

  After checking the design drawing Raul had taped to the table, I picked up a handful of candy canes, took them to the taped-off area, and poked them into the ground.

  “I don’t know what you promised your guys to get them to show up,” Fab told Mac, “but I’ll cover the tab. You can always be counted on.”

  From the look on Mac’s face, I knew the compliment meant everything to her. She had a never-ending girl crush.

  With fifteen men showing up, a third of them natural leaders, the lawn went together in record time. It wasn’t ostentatious like the first display, but it looked darn good, and when the lights were turned on, everyone clapped.

  Chapter Seven

  “Party time!”

  Creole lifted and whirled me around in the doorway of Jake’s. I had on a red tankini bathing suit, a red-dyed grass skirt that had faded in spots, and red-and-white leis around my neck. After some grumbling, Creole had agreed to wear the Santa-face bathing trunks I’d purchased. He’d also chosen a black tropical shirt, which he left unbuttoned, and I’d added matching leis around his neck.

  Fab rocked the hula-girl look—green grass skirt with colorful fabric hibiscus flowers fastened around her waist. Her bra top was made from coconut shells adorned with the same flower, and she’d finished off her outfit with flowery wristbands. Didier sported a pair of red board shorts and a white dress shirt.

  Being the owner of a dive bar had perks, and I’d reserved the outside deck for friends, and possibly a family member or two, if they were brave enough to show up. Since my mother got married, her interest in coming to Jake’s had waned. My brother had sniffed that Jake’s didn’t have the proper ambience for a cigar and scotch. Then he’d winked at me. But I refused to miss Jake’s first costume bash.

  Unlocking the doors to the deck, I flipped on the ceiling fans and the lights that ran along the deck railing and the edge of the roof. The usual white ones had been replaced with multi-colored ones, the space reconfigured into one long table. Most of the seats offered a good vantage point for watching the comings and goings inside the bar.

  Mac blew through the door, bending down to whisper, “Crum got arrested.” It came out as more of a shout. Conversation came to a halt.

  Eye-level with her chest, which was coming dangerously close to spilling out of her bathing suit top, I leaned back before asking, “What happened?” I glanced down at her tree skirt, made out of felt with large round circles that I assumed were ornaments glued on. Strings of lights around her neck and elf shoes with bells on the toes put the finishing touch on her outfit.

  “Bank robbery.” She made a second attempt at a whisper and failed. “Big-time felony. Though he swears he didn’t do it. I believe him, but the cops didn’t ask my opinion.”

  I don’t know why she wouldn’t speak in her normal voice, using her chain-smoker voice instead. And she didn’t even smoke. Besides, she had everyone’s rapt attention.

  “Is he going to get bail?” I asked Mac, at the same time shrugging at Fab, silently asking, Do we have a bondsman?

  Mac answered my unspoken question. “Counselor Grace is on it. Didn’t complain one bit when I called after hours, and she assured me she’d be heading to the police station immediately. Then referred me to some guy I swear she called ‘Barndoor.’ Turns out its Barnard, and he’s got zero sense of humor.”

  Both Creole and Didier laughed.

  “Why are you calling her ‘counselor’?” Fab asked.

  “She says it sounds chic. Besides, ‘Ruthie’ is a little forward. I’d like to offer her a free meal—I think she’s a Jake’s kind of gal.”

  I wasn’t sure that was a compliment but nodded. If I hadn’t already had Ruthie Grace checked out, I would do it now. The report had come back showing a stellar reputation and impressive win record. That made up for a little eccentricity.

  “Here’s another title for your resume,” I said to Mac. “Bail arranger.”

  She grinned at that idea. Doodad set a bottle of beer in front of her and delivered the rest of the drinks I’d pre-ordered.

  “Can’t party until the fun arrives,” Liam said from the doorway. “Here I am.” He’d joined in the spirit, showing up in green bathing trunks, a U-logo t-shirt from school, and an elf hat with ears, a large jingle bell on the tip.

  “You sneak out again?” Didier asked Liam, giving him a thumbs up on the outfit.

  Liam made a face. “Not exactly. The Spoons went out for dinner, and I left another note and caught a cab over here. The note thing works good for me. No longwinded explanations necessary.”

  “Mother must’ve done something if you’re calling her Mrs. Spoon,” I said.

  “We had a ‘discussion’ about how she packed my calendar full of activities until I leave to go visit Mom in California. I went through and crossed most of it out, telling her I needed time to do nothing and had a few invitations of my own. This being one of them.” Liam claimed the chair that Creole pointed him to.

  “Find a home for the dog yet?” Didier asked.

  “Yep,” Liam said smugly. “Good one too.”

  “You going to tell us?” Fab asked.

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “He had a temporary home for a couple of days and then got his forever home. I’ll let those responsible tell you.”

  Someone we know? That made me mildly nervous, but I knew Liam would make sure the dog had a good home and would never be left on the side of the road again.

  Doodad came back, large platter in hand, followed by Dickie and Raul. Fab hopped up and greeted them. It surprised me that they’d come, as I didn’t often see the two outside the funeral home.

  “The bar’s filling up. Your idea was a good one,” I said to Doodad as he set the array of appetizers down. Another special order I’d arranged.

  “Just fired the new guy. Smoking a bowl in the middle of the kitchen isn’t cool. He shouldn’t be doing it at work… or should at least wait for his break and go out to his car. We need to write that we drug test on the bottom of the application—that will scare some of them off.”

  “I’m the last to know we even have an application.” I tried not to laugh.

  “I meant it in the cosmic sense of… I’m just full of it.” He walked off.

  Mac pushed her chair back and chased after Doodad, grabbing his arm.

  A loud crash, followed by a second, softer one, brought all conversation, inside and out, to a halt. Creole flew out of his seat, Didier behind him, and they ran into the bar. Doodad and Liam followed.

  The patrons’ eyes were fixed on the front door. I stood on a chair to improve my view. From what I could see, it looked like the front end of a golf cart had gotten wedged in the doorframe. The reindeer tied to the top hung lopsided. There’d been a local parade earlier—decorate your cart in the spirit of the season, anyone could enter. But that didn’t answer the question of how it got here, now probably totaled.

  Creole came back in via the rear entrance and waved me over. I was surprised Fab hadn’t followed the guys to check out the scene, instead staying behind to talk to Raul and Dickie.

  “Two drunk men in golf carts came up with the bright idea of drag racing. Eyewitnesses said they were driving around in circles in the parking lot when one guy’s engine died. The other guy, either on purpose or because he wasn’t paying attention, rear-ended him, propelling him through the doorway… partially, anyway.” Creole shook his head in disbelief.

  “Anyone hurt?” I asked.

  “No, and thank goodness they didn’t take out any bystanders. There are a few of them out there, snapping pics, taking video, or both.” />
  “What can I do?”

  “Stay in here and have fun. I got some men together to pull the cart out of the doorway. Didier says he can send a carpenter over tomorrow to fix the damage. Doesn’t think it’s as bad as it looks.”

  Someone inside had chosen “Ho, Ho, Ho and a Bottle of Rum” on the jukebox and started singing along to the Jimmy Buffet tune. That was the signal that the drama was no longer interesting.

  “You pressing charges?” Creole asked.

  “I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I never do. And yet the cops manage to show up anyway.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” He flexed his muscles. “I know a couple of local cops. Hopefully one of them is working and we can get this cleaned up quickly.”

  “You were a good catch.” I stood on tiptoes and kissed him.

  “Except I was the one to bait the hook and reel you in.” He cast a line with his invisible fishing rod.

  Remembering that Doodad was outside, I veered toward the bar, not believing he’d leave it unattended but needing to check it out. So that’s where Mac disappeared to.

  “Need help?” I called to her.

  She waved me away, sliding two beers down the bar.

  It didn’t take long before the guys had extracted the cart from the opening and pushed it into a parking space. One of the drivers called a cab, and they both hopped in and left before the cops arrived. That wouldn’t keep them out of trouble, as Creole had gotten their information, letting them know they’d be paying the repair bill.

  Creole, Didier, and Liam returned to the table. Didier suggested a toast but got interrupted by loud voices as the sounds of an argument drifted out the door.

  What now?

  Just inside the double doors, two women were wrestling in a circle of onlookers, pulling each other’s hair, slapping the air, and shrieking.

  I wagered, “A dollar says they’re both sleeping with the same guy and they just found out.”

  “I’ll take that bet,” Liam said. “How are you going to find out?”

  “We’ll send Fab—she’s the PI.” I laughed at the glare she sent me.

  Doodad came out from behind the bar and bravely stepped between the two women, yelling, “Shut it!” He gripped an arm in each hand and led them towards the back exit.

  “What was the fight about?” Liam asked eagerly when he came back.

  “Trash talking,” Doodad said, like he couldn’t believe it. “Who’s better looking, who’s got the bigger boobs… They’re regulars and always starting stuff.”

  “You owe me a dollar,” Liam told me.

  I nudged Creole. “Can you front me the money?”

  “Just so you know, I charge interest, and no complaining when it’s time to pay up.”

  I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Deal.”

  “I’m getting ready to award prizes. You want to be the one to present them?” Doodad asked me.

  I shook my head. “How about Fab? She’s the outgoing one.”

  “I’ll do it,” Liam volunteered. “It’s going to be easy since over half didn’t come in a costume. Bathing suit trunks don’t count.” He stared at Creole and Didier, letting them know they didn’t make the cut. “Only the women made much of an effort.” He stood and followed Doodad into the bar. Circling the room several times before claiming the microphone, he made a showy spectacle of approaching each winner and awarding their prize. When Liam finished, all of us on the deck clapped, to which he responded with a bow.

  The rest of the evening went off without a glitch. We ate and drank until everyone at the table was stuffed. The mountain of food that had been delivered was devoured.

  Raul announced that they had found a home for Polar, the rescued dog’s new name. Polar resembled a dog they’d buried in their pet cemetery, whose owner had taken his companion’s death hard. The older man had resisted adopting another dog, but when presented with the homeless animal, he’d jumped at adopting the German Shepherd. The guys had helped him research holiday-themed animal names, and he liked that one best. Since the three dogs got along so well, it was decided that Polar would be back for play dates.

  “The dogs can jump around in the mud again,” Raul said sardonically.

  At the opposite end of the table, Dickie stood up, placing a shopping bag on the table. “Raul and I want to thank you for your help in the decoration fiasco. To make sure it doesn’t happen again, we got advice on how to secure everything. So, a small gift from us to you.” He reached into the bag, withdrawing some small red boxes that Raul distributed to the women. Next came green boxes, and they went to the men. “A useful reminder of your Tropical Slumber experience.”

  The red brocade pattern on the box reminded me of the furniture in the funeral home, and I was loath to touch it. I leaned my head against Creole’s shoulder. “You first.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Since we don’t want to hurt their feelings, on the count of three, we open at the same time.”

  I nodded. Fab caught our attention by opening hers and Didier’s, seemingly at once. From the red box, she pulled out a silver pendant necklace in the shape of an old-fashioned bottle, and from the green one, blown-glass cuff links.

  Mac, who’d returned to the table some time ago, had already opened her box. “That’s right pretty,” she cooed, pulling out an exact duplicate of Fab’s necklace. “Now that’s special.” She dangled the necklace in front of her face.

  “Thank you,” I murmured, slipping the box, unopened, into my pocket.

  Didier jerked his arm away when Fab tried to put one of the cufflinks on him, eyeing them suspiciously.

  “This is very pretty. Thank you, Raul and Dickie.” Fab held up the necklace. “What’s this?” She tapped the back side.

  Raul stood, necklace in hand. “When a loved one dies and is cremated, remove the top—that’s the opening.” He demonstrated. “And fill with ashes. Same with the cufflinks. Make sure you get the closures secured. You will always have your loved one near.”

  An awkward hush fell over the table.

  “You’re a clever one,” Didier said. He must have realized it didn’t sound like a compliment and added, “Darn good idea.”

  “Well, I’ll be.” Mac bobbed her head. “I’ve got a couple of friends that are gift shop managers. I can show this to them—maybe they’ll order some for their stores.”

  “That’s sweet of you, but they’re reserved for our clients,” Dickie said.

  I elbowed Creole gently in the side.

  “Yeah, great idea,” he said.

  Liam leaned over and whispered, “I’m going to fill mine with dirt and tell the kids at school it’s my Uncle Harry.” At my incredulous look, he added, “Harry’s made up, so no harm there.”

  Overhearing, Creole snorted.

  I wasn’t sure how it happened, but the rest of the night was uneventful.

  Chapter Eight

  “Crum’s not in jail.” I banged my phone on the counter. When I called the jail, they’d informed me he wasn’t on their guest list. “He’s also not answering his phone.”

  “He’s a grown man and can take of his own legal problems.” Fab scooped up my mug and hers, putting them in the dishwasher. “I know that’s not going to stop you from getting involved.” She took hold of my hand and ushered me into the entry, hooking my purse over my shoulder.

  “Where are we going?” I asked as she shoved me out the door.

  “The mall. Crum probably went to work. The older ladies with bad boy fantasies will be lining up.”

  Eww. “According to Mac, he dialed back his friendly attitude after mall management issued what they said was a final warning after a couple of women got in a shoving match. They said if any damage occurred during a fight over him, they’d hold him financially responsible.”

  “Did you know he’s sending the lucky women home with his Santa business card?”

  “I don’t believe you.” I turned
and smirked out the window, wondering how long she’d held onto that tidbit, also knowing that the woman didn’t make statements she couldn’t back up.

  “Check the side pocket of my purse.” She pointed behind her as though I didn’t know where she kept her purse.

  “You better have gotten me one.”

  “There’s a few in there, and no, I’m not passing them out. I figure when he runs out, I’ll sell them to the ladies that didn’t get one—at a premium price.”

  I laughed. “Please let me be there when Didier finds out about your latest entrepreneurial adventure.”

  “Being a naughty girl has its perks.” She flashed a dreamy, self-satisfied smile.

  “Stop.” I crossed my fingers in front of me.

  My phone rang. I retrieved it from the cup holder and answered, hitting the speaker button. “It’s Mac.”

  “Heads up: Crum didn’t come to work today. He got fired when management found out about his arrest. One of the maintenance men is filling in.”

  “You talk to him?”

  “He didn’t come back to The Cottages when he got released. Called me with an update this morning. Refused to say where he was staying. I asked him if he was on the run, and he sounded insulted while spitting out a denial.”

  “Anything else I should know about?”

  “I found a replacement for my Mrs. Claus gig, and she starts tomorrow, so after that, you can find me in the office, the pool, or somewhere around.”

  “Just keep your phone turned on,” Fab yelled.

  Someone called Mac’s name in the background. “Talk to you later,” I said hurriedly before hanging up. “Let’s go pay a visit to Crum’s lawyer, Ms. Grace.” I scrolled through the phone, getting the address. “It’s not far from the funeral home.”

  “You’re not wearing your necklace.” Fab gave me a one-eyed once-over.

  “Didn’t go with my outfit.” I shuddered at the thought of ever wearing it. “I’ll point out the obvious—you’re not wearing yours either.”

  Fab was quick, but not quick enough. I saw the edges of her mouth turn up before she changed the subject. “Do we have the nerve to show up at a law office without an appointment?”