Initiation in Paradise

by Deborah Brown

  “Where’s Mila?” I asked.

  “Enrolled her in preschool three days a week.” Brad leaned sideways and kissed my cheek.

  “Bet Mother flipped over that one.” I grimaced. “Trying to get on Mila’s social calendar is already difficult, and now school.”

  Mother was the real culprit. She’d groaned and complained about having no grandchildren; then, starting with Liam and now Mila, she hogged their time. Liam was Brad’s ex’s son, who the family had adopted. He’d opted to go to the University of Miami to stay close.

  “My daughter needs to have friends that are under the age of twenty,” Brad said, taking a drink of the coffee that’d just arrived. “Speaking of Mother, expect a call. She’s planning a family dinner.”

  “You eat here often?” I asked.

  “On occasion. I usually hit the drive-thru, but I saw you pull up and thought, why not crash the party?”

  “You’re getting good at that,” Creole said with amusement.

  “Thanks,” Brad said without shame. “Where’s your dead-body updater?”

  “We’re on our way to pay him a visit,” Didier said.

  Fab gave him the evil eye.

  “What?” Didier asked, surprised. “I was supposed to lie? Why?”

  Brad blew it off. “No need to explain. Just so happens I’ve got plenty of free time today, since the other partners will be late getting to the office, so I’ll ride along. Thanks for inviting me.”

  “You’re getting worse than Mother,” I said.

  “Or it could be said I learned from the best. And that bit of pushiness doesn’t come close to some of Mother’s antics.”

  The waiter arrived with our breakfast and some much-needed coffee refills.

  After he left, Brad looked around the table, asking, “Anyone want to fill me in on today’s adventure?”

  Fab spoke up and gave the briefest account possible of what we’d be doing on our little trip out of town.

  “You have a firearm?” Creole asked Brad.

  “Locked in the car.”

  “I suggest that you accessorize, since you’re planning to come with us,” I said.

  Fab tapped her watch. “Eat up. Monty’s going to be here any minute, and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  A few minutes later, a service truck pulled up parallel to the curb, and the man behind the wheel leaned over and rolled down the passenger window. Lifting a bullhorn, he shouted, “Time’s a-wasting.”

  “He has a bullhorn, and we don’t.” All eyes shot to me. I held up my hands in defense. “They come in handy.” We used to have one, but it had disappeared when the Hummer was stolen.

  We piled into the Escalade, and Fab pulled around the truck and led the way out of town.

  Granted, there was nothing to look at save for trees and marshes, but it was beautiful and peaceful. Occasionally, a car passed us.

  Creole scooted up and hung his head between the seats. “Slow down,” he said to Fab. “The turn-in is up ahead. There’s a slight dip, and then gravel up to his trailer. You can gauge it by the large house sitting behind the trees on the opposite side of the road.”

  “Coming up on the right is the restaurant where I got shot,” I said.

  “Nobody goes wandering off on their own,” Creole said sternly. “Got it?”

  We all murmured our agreement.

  Fab slowed to a crawl and found the turn-in with the help of Creole tapping her shoulder. Monty’s truck turned behind her and followed us into the clearing, where Help stood outside his Winnebago, waving us forward.

  Everyone got out and exchanged hellos. Fab, Monty, and Help poked around and conferred on security plans and what would go where in the area. Fab had brought along photos of where the previous bodies had been found, in hopes that Help might recognize that particular area.

  The guys split up and roamed the property on their own while I leaned against the Escalade, moving my Glock to the front of my waistband.

  Fab and Monty conferred over plans, Monty scribbling on his notepad, and quickly made decisions, Help agreeing to what they decided. Monty waved and left.

  “He’ll be back at the end of the week,” Fab said as she and Help walked over to where I was standing.

  Help motioned for the guys to come over. “I’ve got an update on the Addy woman. Figured out where she was living and checked out the spot, then went and introduced myself to Cootie, who was taken off guard by my sudden appearance. I dropped your name and he loosened up, figuring I wasn’t an accomplice of Addy’s. He verified that she’d hotfooted it out of here within hours of the shooting. A truck showed up, hooked up her house, and hit the highway in the direction of the bridge. There’s plenty of wilderness out that way.”

  I raised my hand in front of my face.

  “Yes, Ms. Madison?” Help acknowledged in an amused tone.

  “Would you show us the way to Addy’s? A look around might yield some information. And afterwards, I’d like to stop and see Cootie. Give him one of my cards.”

  Eyebrows shot up at that.

  “This isn’t news,” I defended myself. “You know I promised to do something nice as payback. If it weren’t for Cootie, who knows how the day would’ve ended. We could still be out here, slogging through the bushes, trying to get home. I have no doubt that Addy would’ve tracked us down. She had the advantage of knowing the terrain.”

  “Is it too early for a little swig of moonshine?” Brad asked.

  “You first.” Didier laughed. “You survive, and I still won’t try it.”

  Heads nodded in agreement.

  “Do you want to go the scenic way, through the underbrush?” Help flourished his hand. “Or the pussy route and drive?”

  “I’ll go scenic.” I brushed my hands over my jeans, which I’d paired with a long-sleeved top. I came prepared for bush-crawling.

  “No,” Creole said emphatically. “Have you forgotten your arm’s still sore? You’ll get hurt, scratched up or bit—”

  “I want to do this.” He knew that I still had the occasional bad dream about that day.

  Brad put his arm around me, looking down at me. “You did it. I want to do it.”

  “Sometimes we’re still kids.” I half-laughed.

  Brad hugged me hard.

  “It won’t be so bad,” Help said. “You won’t be getting on your hands and knees. Once I found out the old broad had skipped, I used a machete to chop a crude path so I could keep an eye on comings and goings without being spotted.”

  “I’m driving,” Fab declared.

  “Pull in at the curve sign,” Help directed. “I got a friend who works road crew to let me have one. It’s a great marker without being obvious.”

  Fab and Didier got in the Escalade and headed out.

  The rest of us hit the bushes, Help in the lead, then Creole, me, and Brad. I felt safe surrounded by several hundred pounds of muscle. We skinnied along the path, brushing limbs out of the way, but it wasn’t as dense as before. Soon, we stepped out into the clearing where the small house on wheels had been parked and found it empty, just like Help had said. Fab parked in the same place as before, and she and Didier walked around as she pointed and gave a mini-tour of what had gone down that day.

  Brad was poking around on his own. After a minute, he called, “Hold on a second. You two cops get over here.”

  That left me out, so I hung back. “Fab’s going to be mad she missed something.”

  “No, I’m not,” Fab grouched from behind me, phone in hand, always ready to take pictures.

  Brad pointed to an oversized, stained burlap bag. In fact, it was two that had been pulled together to meet in the middle and tied with rope. It was tucked in the underbrush and crawling with bugs.

  Help snapped off a branch and poked it gently. “This doesn’t look good. Let’s hope I don’t need to get the coroner out here again.” He pulled a knife from his back pocket, bent down, and sliced the bag open. He jumped back and covered his nose. “Th
e coroner.” He stepped away. “It’s, uh…badly decomposed.”

  I backed up to the far side of the car, the farther away the better.

  Help pulled his phone out and called in the discovery.

  It was a half-hour before a cop car arrived. Help stood out on the road and flagged him down. The officer got out and shook hands with Help, who proceeded to fill him in and lead him to where the surprise had been found.

  “What’s going on?” Cootie had snuck up behind me and was standing there, partially concealed by the bushes.

  I squealed, which caught Brad’s attention, and he hurried over. I made the introductions and told Cootie about the find.

  The man grimaced. “Don’t want the Sound to get a reputation as a dumping ground.” He inched back towards the mangroves. “Don’t tell anyone about me. Authorities will send someone to roust me out. Homesteading’s banned; you’ve got to produce a deed. Good luck getting one of those. Cha-ching.”

  I opened the car door and reached in my tote, pulling out a business card and handing it to the man. “Stay in touch. Anytime you come to town, free meal at Jake’s. Password is Madison.”

  “Once I get my ride fixed, I’ll do that,” Cootie said.

  “That reminds me. I set it up for three days from now. Noon at AJ’s. Be there. A friend, Toady, is coming out with a mechanic to see what it’ll take to get your truck fixed. He’s easy to identify: he’s only got one tooth. It’s gold, front and center.”

  “I don’t—” Cootie sputtered.

  “I’ve got this all taken care of.” I’d mentioned it to Toady a couple of days ago, and he’d been agreeable. I’d have to call again and firm up the plans before my self-imposed deadline. “You can lead Toady and his friend back to your place, and if necessary, they can hook up your truck and tow it. If that’s the case, it might take a while to get it back, but you can contact me for updates anytime.”

  “You know, sister, you don’t have to do this,” Cootie said.

  “I want to. You shouldn’t be living out here without a ride.”

  Cootie laughed. “Aren’t you something?”

  “That’s been said about her before,” Brad said.

  “I’m going to sneak out of here now.” Cootie stepped back into the mangroves.

  “Cootie,” I whispered loudly. When he turned, I added, “Watch your back.” He nodded and disappeared.

  “Don’t introduce him to Mila; she’ll want to take him home.” Brad grimaced.

  Another cop had shown up. He asked us a couple of questions, took our contact information, and said we could leave. Didn’t have to tell us twice; we piled into the SUV and got the heck out of there.

  “That was fun,” I groaned from the backseat.

  “I want my application and password to join the secret group,” Brad said. “I’m not going to be odd man out anymore.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Fab dropped Brad at his car, which he’d left at the Bakery Café, and headed home. I begged off from any more excitement, claiming I had calls to make. The first call was to Toady to make sure that he hadn’t forgotten his offer to go out and supervise the repair and possible pickup of Cootie’s truck.

  “I’ve got it taken care of,” Toady assured me. “A friend of mine had a towing business back in the day. He’s retired now, but he didn’t sell the truck and still runs side jobs on occasion. I started to warn him about the area, but he knew all about it. A couple of friends camped out there until they were run off for trespassing.”

  “I want to thank you for helping out. Cootie could’ve just said beat it instead of helping us.”

  Toady let out a throaty laugh. “No thanks needed. One thing about you guys’ jobs: they’re never dull. Speaking of…”

  I groaned, afraid I was about to be served some bad news.

  “The Bostwick job is a good example. Xander’s a great kid, and you don’t have to tell him twice, but he’s basically in over his head being a house manager. Bostwick called, expecting to talk to Fab, and proceeded to run over the kid until I took the phone away. Lied about my credentials as an animal specialist and said the young man was my assistant. Only the best for Ms. Merceau’s clients.”

  “You’re the best.”

  “Bostwick hung up happy as a clambake.”

  Hmm…okay.

  “I’m staying at the manse,” Toady announced. “It’s a paid vacation, and we’re taking advantage of all the fancy stuff. Don’t worry, we’re cleaning up after ourselves. Besides, a second rodent is going to be delivered tomorrow, and I gotta be there to make sure all goes smoothly.”

  “I’m tacking a bonus for the two of you on Bostwick’s bill.”

  “Now you’re talking, girlie.”

  I hung up, thinking they were having a good time and that boded well for Fab not having to go back out there and pet-sit, which had me laughing again. I hoped none of the neighbors spotted Toady and reported back to Bostwick.

  Then I called Jake’s and got Kelpie, who said Doodad was in the office.

  “Don’t tell him I’m on my way unless he bolts for the door. Then stop him.”

  Fab would be annoyed that I hadn’t called to tell her about my trip to Jake’s, but it was about Doodad’s personal business, and if he wanted to share, he could do it.

  Lucky for me that Didier had been right behind us when we pulled in the gate the day before. Fab had parked at my house, got into his Mercedes, and they pulled back out to the highway. I slid behind the wheel of the Escalade and sank back into the leather seat. There were plenty of tempting buttons on the dash to push, but I refrained and made my way uneventfully to Jake’s. I parked in the front for a change, got out, and scanned the lot. All was quiet. I turned an eagle eye in the direction of Junker’s to see if he’d brought in a new shipment I hadn’t seen yet, particularly new garden items. Then had to remind myself that I had little room for planting at the house.

  Kelpie had regulars lined up at the bar, ready for entertainment as she shook her large assets and danced to the music blaring from the jukebox while serving drinks.

  “I’ll have a Shirley Temple, load up on the cherries. And one of whatever Doodad drinks.” I headed down the hall towards the office.

  “He’s in the kitchen,” Kelpie yelled.

  I nodded and stopped in the doorway of the kitchen. “Hey you,” I yelled. Both Cook and Doodad turned to glare. I laughed and pointed to Doodad, motioning for him to follow me. I stopped back at the bar, put the drinks on a tray, and carried them out to the deck.

  “Am I getting fired?” Doodad slid into a chair across from me after kicking the door closed.

  “Who would I hire to replace you?” I tipped my soda against his.

  He appeared to give it some thought. “That would be a tough one.”

  “Why is it that you’re still living in a storage shed?” I asked, having made the decision that being direct topped beating around the bush, which would annoy the man.

  He was taken aback and looked at me with surprise, then sighed out a frustrated breath. “The insurance company decided to play hardball and leave me out in the cold. Barring some kind of miracle, I’m on my own to rebuild at my expense or sell for land value.”

  “Those are limited options. What about a lawyer?”

  Doodad brushed off the idea. “That takes cash and a lot of it.”

  “Maybe not. Are you willing to fork over a percentage of what you get from insurance to pay a lawyer? The exact amount could be agreed on in advance.”

  “Already tried that and couldn’t get any takers. One snottily said, ‘Nothing from nothing…’”

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and scrolled for a number. “Do you take cases on contingency?” I asked when Tank answered.

  “Who is this?” he snapped.

  “You’re telling me my name and lovely face didn’t come up on your screen?” I scrunched up my nose at Doodad, who laughed.

  “I charge by the hour.”

  “A friend
is in need of a good lawyer, and I thought of you.” I ignored his snort and ran down the details of the case.

  “Hate to hear that story,” Tank said. “It’s happened too many times. Folks get taken advantage of, and if you ask me, there’s no reason except for greed. You make your payments on time, you expect coverage, and then can’t collect? That’s theft, in my humble opinion.”

  “That mean you’d be interested in speaking to the potential client?” When he didn’t answer right away, I said, “He’s the manager at Jake’s and can be found there most anytime. Don’t dawdle. If you’re not interested, say so.”

  “I can’t do it today, but I’ll be by tomorrow.”

  We hung up.

  “I don’t know how you found out about my housing problem and don’t care, but I’m thankful.”

  “Tomorrow, you’ll be interviewing your potential lawyer, Patrick Cannon, aka Tank. He’s easily recognizable, as he’s built like his moniker would suggest.” I gobbled down a stick of cherries. “Don’t forget to put on your sparkle.”

  Doodad watched me with amusement. “I’m looking into going organic on the bar fruit.”

  “Not my cherries you’re not. Organic ones taste like…excrement.”

  Doodad laughed. “Got it.”

  “Be sure you taste test before making any changes.”

  He nodded. “So…” he started and stopped.

  “Somebody died? What? Am I going to need another drink?”

  Doodad opened the door and yelled, “Refill for the boss.”

  It didn’t take long for the door to open. One of Kelpie’s regulars set my order in front of me and curtsied before backing out.

  “Isn’t it unprofessional having a customer serve the drinks?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. Garter’s a regular and probably got a free beer out of it.” Doodad hesitated, then said, “Feel free to say ‘not interested.’ Won’t hurt my feelings any.”

  I took a deep breath. “I’m ready for your pitch.”

  “I don’t know what you’re doing with your house, now that construction is completed or almost. What about renting it to me? I don’t need to tell you that it’s not good to leave it empty. As you know, it’ll attract squatters. And when you kick them off the property, they’ll do damage on the way out.”