Hurricane in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 10) Read online

  “When all is said and done, I’ll own this house,” Bossman said, smug smile firmly in place.

  * * *

  The doorbell rang, and I kicked personal belongings out of the way to get to the front door. I realized I hadn’t heard any sirens in the distance and took that to mean someone familiar with the address had been sent to answer the call.

  Kevin Cory leaned his six-foot frame against the doorway, arms folded, smirk firmly in place. “Who died?”

  How this sheriff’s deputy always drew the short straw was a mystery to me. Those around me had to constantly remind me that he was “almost” family, as my brother dated his sister. We had recently come to an unspoken truce, but it remained to be seen how long it would last.

  My arm swept out in a flourish. “No one––yet.”

  Kevin walked straight into the living room, pausing to check out every inch of the room. “Man, what a pigsty.”

  “Arrest this man for breaking and entering.” I pointed at Bossman, who had followed me in from the patio. “And his friends, who are squatting and making use of my pool.”

  “This is my house,” Bossman said adamantly.

  “Shut up and sit down,” Kevin ordered. “Let’s see some identification.”

  The man reached down and grubbed through a pile of clothes, pulling out a pair of cut-off shorts, extracting a square metal cigarette box, and finally producing a license.

  Kevin plucked it from his fingers. “Carbine Wills. Ebro?” He raised his eyebrows. “So you were one of a population of what – ten? They must have been sad to see you go.” He turned the driver’s license over several times. “What’s your story? I already know hers.” He turned slightly, looking at me and putting a finger to his lips.

  “I rented the place, and she barged in, threatening to shoot.” Carbine cast me a gloating sneer.

  “Show me the paperwork,” Kevin demanded. “If all you’ve got is excuses, you’re going down to the station.”

  Fab’s bad luck, Kevin was facing the patio doors when she stepped over the threshold. He watched as she reholstered her gun in a swift movement.

  “Did you shoot anyone?” Kevin asked her. “Come in, join the party.”

  Fab pasted a phony smile on her face. “If I do that, the five out here will take off.” She inclined her head towards the patio. “Once they hit the beach, you know the chances of catching them are nil.”

  Kevin groaned, crossed to the double doors, and disappeared outside. I heard him shout, “Everyone out of the pool. Sit at the table.” After a moment of silence, he bellowed, “Now!”

  I wanted to sit down but continued to stand, my germ phobia kicking into high gear. My fists clenched at the complete disregard for the furnishings. The sides of my mouth turned up at the thought of how good it would feel to beat the stuffing out of Carbine like he’d done to a couple of my couch cushions.

  Carbine, on hands and knees, pulled a beat-up briefcase from under the daybed. He fiddled with the combination and threw up the lid.

  I could have picked the lock faster than that. I leaned over in hopes of catching a glimpse of the contents, but Carbine glared and turned it sideways, retrieved the paperwork, and slammed the lid shut.

  Kevin came back through the doors and told Fab, “I’ll guard the door.” He made a shooing motion.

  Carbine got up off the floor, crossed over to Kevin, and held out the paperwork. Kevin jerked it out of his hand.

  Fab didn’t like being relieved of her post. Kevin and Carbine would both be dead if looks could kill. Not to be deterred, she marched to the kitchen island and slipped onto a stool. From her vantage point, she had the same view as Kevin.

  No one said a word as Kevin perused the paperwork. Finally, his eyes boring into mine, he inclined his head toward the front door. “Let’s take this outside.”

  Not expecting this reaction, I felt my stomach clench into a tight knot. I shot Fab a confused look and headed to the door.

  Kevin closed the door behind us and motioned for me to follow him to his car. “This isn’t personal.”

  That’s not what I expected to hear. I didn’t say anything, staring up at him and hoping I wasn’t about to be arrested.

  “He has a signed and notarized lease, the latter being a little unusual. I do know the notary, and she wouldn’t knowingly lend her name to anything illegal. I imagine she was brought in because this is a power of attorney signing. Do you know a Donte Prince? He negotiated the lease, supposedly on your behalf. You’re going to have to take this to civil court.” He waved the lease. “A judge will have to decide.”

  I shook my head. “Never heard of the Prince character or Carbine. I evacuated for the hurricane and came back to find ‘legal’ squatters, and there’s nothing you can do, even though you know it’s my house?”

  “I’ll run his license and see if I get a hit on anything.” He slid behind the wheel of his car.

  I pulled my phone out and hit speed dial. “Turn around,” I said to Fab when she answered. I could see her through the garden window, and I waved as she did as I asked. “Not good news.” I related everything Kevin had told me. “I know from owning rental units that if Carbine’s savvy enough—and it appears he is—he can prolong his living situation for months.”

  “What about our personal belongings?” Fab snapped.

  I watched Fab, clearly frustrated, scoop up her hair, wrapping it into a ponytail. Stray hair hung out here and there, but a little mess made her hotter. I was happy not to see my reflection in the glass; it was off-the-charts humid, and my hair felt like it weighed ten pounds.

  “I thought of that. Since it’s too late to shoot the lot of them and call it self-defense, we’re not leaving until Spoon sends over a guard to prevent theft.”

  My sixtyish mother had a younger boyfriend named Jimmy Spoon, who was well-respected as a major badass. He’d be my first call, and my lawyer the second.

  I turned at the sound of my name, meeting Kevin in the middle of the driveway. I left the phone line open so Fab could listen in.

  “Clean,” he said.

  “Hats off to Carbine; this scam of his was perfectly executed. And he has your blessing.” My few minutes of self-pity had evaporated, and now I was heating up into full-blown anger. “Now what?”

  “Actually, you and Fab have a right to be here. I’ll inform Carbine that he’s not getting rid of you so easily and to play nice.”

  “Great,” I said heatedly. “He won’t be congratulating himself for long. He’ll be out faster than he thinks.”

  “Take a breath.” Kevin reached out, and I stepped back. “Sorry, I forgot you don’t do touchy-feely. I know you’re irritated that I can’t kick his ass to the curb.” He sighed. “This is where I feel compelled to remind you that you also have to play nice and can’t kill him or have any of your friends do it. Mysteriously going missing wouldn’t be a good idea either.”

  “You’re no fun.” I half-smiled. I didn’t tell him I’d rejected the idea of murder already, and I also didn’t need to remind him I didn’t have to get my hands dirty. Between Fab and me, we had a handful of acquaintances that could persuade the mangy group to relocate with no blood shed… well, maybe a tiny bit. The problem with the lot of them was that they had impulse control issues, and when a foot or an arm showed up somewhere, the cops would be back banging on the door. “Can you make them move their cars so they’re not blocking the driveway so I can at least get my SUV out? It is illegal to park halfway in the street.”

  I didn’t want Carbine thinking he had free use of the Hummer and wanted it removed from any temptation to break in and hotwire it for a joyride. I’d gotten an amazing deal from Fab’s client, Brick, who owned a car lot. I didn’t look for him to be so accommodating a second time.

  “That’s something I can do.” Kevin headed back into the house.

  “Yo
u need to get out here,” I told Fab, who was still listening in. “We’ve got choices; we can live here like one big communal family or relocate until the law kicks their butts down the street.” I disconnected the call.

  I almost threw my phone when Spoon’s number went to voicemail. I remembered that I had one of his employees, Billy Keith, in my address book, and he was my next call. It saved time to call him myself when I would’ve requested him anyway. What exactly he did for Spoon was unclear. But if there was a problem and Fab or I needed help, he was always the first to arrive.

  Billy answered immediately. “You okay? You never call direct.”

  “I need you to get your skinny ass to my house ASAP. I’ve got big trouble, and you have the mean-stink skills that are required.”

  His growly laugh rolled through the phone line. “On my way.” The line went dead.

  Chapter Three

  The last thing Kevin said before blowing around the corner was “get rid of them legally.”

  Fab and I agreed, not long after that, that we wouldn’t be cohabitating with Carbine and packed up what we could stuff inside the suitcases stored in the garage. What I couldn’t take, I shoved inside my walk-in closet and locked the door. It surprised me that the jewelry and cash I’d left behind hadn’t been touched. It also appeared that no one had spent time in my bedroom, but I wasn’t sure how long that would last.

  Fab hoisted herself up and peered through the back truck window at the cats. “They’re still sleeping. At least they don’t have their faces pasted to the window, howling.”

  I laughed. “I called Susie. I wish I’d taped the call. She has a snooty, condescending tone that rivals yours.” I mimicked the woman: “Mr. Campion is the best criminal attorney in the state––he doesn’t do real estate.”

  Susie was my lawyer’s assistant, but her title should have been “bulldog,” as she single-handedly weeded out those clients that didn’t enhance his pristine image. I had long ago found myself at the top of that list.

  “Now what?”

  I retrieved my ringing phone from my pocket. “Hold that thought.” I accepted the call and hit the speaker button.

  “This is Susie. Mr. Campion wants you to fax over any paperwork that you have ASAP. He’s referring you to another lawyer and asking that your case be expedited.” One would never know from the tone of her voice that we’d just finished a contentious phone call.

  I mouthed “paperwork” at Fab and grimaced, wondering what our chances were of not getting caught if we sneaked back in to steal it from under Carbine’s nose.

  Fab reached under her shirt and handed me a stack of papers with a big smile.

  I stumbled on my first words, staring in awe at the lease I now held in my hand. “I’d like to take you to lunch, apologize for any past misunderstandings,” I practically stuttered to the woman on the other end of the phone.

  There was an overly long pause, and I checked the screen to see if Susie had hung up. “It’s part of my job, Miss Westin. If that’s all, my other line is ringing.”

  I started to thank her again and realized she’d hung up.

  Fab laughed. “There’s something missing. She tells you to take a hike and then resolves the situation in… minutes?”

  “I failed to mention that I ended the first conversation with, ‘Next time a busload of Cruz’s relatives come to town looking for a fistfight and waterfront dinner reservations, The Cottages will be booked.’ And for once, I disconnected first.”

  The Cottages was a beachfront property I owned, and in exchange for legal advice from my attorney, Cruz Campion, my property manager, Mac, made sure his family had a good time. At the time of our handshake agreement, he’d failed to mention he had hundreds of relatives.

  Billy’s truck came careening around the corner. Fab flagged him into the driveway next to Creole’s truck.

  Billy slid out. With his tall, thin physique, he managed to blend in and not attract attention, but those he’d had previous run-ins with crossed the street when they saw him coming. He’d recently hooked up with Mac, and judging from the consistently silly look on her face, he made her a happy woman. She was dying to share details, and it frustrated her that I didn’t ask.

  “William.” Fab waved.

  He glowered back at her. He’d made his preference for “Billy” known to her, but she ignored it.

  I explained the problem and said that it was important to get them out quickly, and even more important that they didn’t steal anything during their stay or on the way out. I also told him that Carbine was clearly the leader and had no fear of the cops showing up. He’d just gone toe-to-toe with Kevin and, after their talk, stood in the doorway and made a brooming motion.

  “I could scare the holy you-know-what out of him––make it clear that he’d better leave now or keep one eye peeled over his shoulder.” Billy glared at my house.

  “He might run, but only as far as the sheriff’s office. He’s overly confidant in this scam, which makes me think he’s pulled it off before.” I had an increasingly worse sinking feeling in my gut about the fact that I had no idea when I would be able to return to my house. “I’m thinking we’re in for a long wait unless I pay him off. Something tells me cash would get his attention, but I imagine his demands would be outrageous. I’d like to know how and why they choose my house. Who goes house hunting during a hurricane?”

  “Squatters are becoming a big problem,” Billy said. “Vacation homes are prime targets. Most of the squatters have weak stories, though some come up with hokey paperwork, but Carbine has taken it to a new level. Generally, they go quietly.”

  “Triple pay if they don’t steal anything,” I said.

  “Last time you offered that, the bossman grumbled and said, ‘she pays too much.’”

  “This time, the bills come to us,” Fab said. “Spoon’s only participation is his okay for you to work for us.”

  I hooked my arm in Billy’s, pressing the house key in his hand. “Come in and I’ll show you around so the cover story I just made up sounds legit.” I opened the door and escorted him inside.

  “Thought I got rid of you.” Carbine assessed Billy with amusement.

  “This is my boyfriend, and you’ll be seeing a lot of him.” I made the introductions and headed upstairs. “That’s Fab’s bedroom,” I whispered, pointing to the first door on the right. Pulling my key out, I unlocked my bedroom door, at the end of the hall on the opposite side, and handed the key to Billy. “Make yourself at home. Bed is damn comfortable. I locked my valuables in the closet. Just keep Carbine out of the bedrooms.”

  Billy sized up the room, then stuck his head in the bathroom. “You know I’m a crappy roommate. Like things my own way.”

  “I’m counting on you being a royal pain. Just make sure the cops don’t get called. With my luck, Kevin will show up, and he knows you don’t live here. He’d probably make you leave.”

  “There will be no cop-calling while I’m here. I’ll go downstairs and pay a welcome visit to let them know not to do anything stupid. I got a friend that can be Fab’s boyfriend, and we can do guard duty in shifts.”

  “Before I forget, thank you. With you here, I don’t need to worry about the house being stripped.”

  * * *

  I snapped my fingers to garner Fab’s attention and pointed to Creole’s truck, reciting the four-number code. “Parallel park that monster.”

  We’d already transferred the cats to the back of my SUV, along with the suitcases. The trunk of her Porsche wouldn’t even hold her shoes.

  “You afraid you’ll jump the curb and leave tire burns in the neighbor’s grass?” Fab responded to my scowl by laughing.

  “Go ahead and laugh. You’ll need a favor eventually, and I’ll make you feel really bad.” I shouted the last word.

  My phone rang, and Fab quirked her brow. I looked do
wn and held up the screen so she could see Spoon’s face.

  “You can handle that one on your own.” Fab hopped in the truck and gunned the engine several seconds later.

  Show off!

  I barely got “Hi” out before Spoon cut me off and relayed his conversation with Kevin in a bristly tone, making it clear he didn’t care for the deputy’s insinuations. But Spoon and I both knew that if I’d called him first, the squatters would be gone already.

  “I’m putting you on speaker so Madeline can listen in,” Spoon said. “Your mother got the same lecture that I did.”

  “Snotty brat,” Mother humphed. “Kevin always seems to forget we’re not a family of killers.”

  Fab had her parking skills down and raced back up the driveway in a few minutes. She didn’t appear happy that she hadn’t waited until after the phone call; missing any part of a conversation irritated her.

  After relating everything I knew and answering Spoon’s questions, I had a big one of my own. “Can Fab and Didier stay on your boat? Then she won’t rush back to Miami. I’m afraid she’ll enjoy it too much and not want to come back.” I made a face at her.

  “Where are you going?” Mother asked.

  “I’m going to Creole’s.”

  “No, you’re not,” Mother said adamantly. “No one knows where he lives. We wouldn’t be able to visit you until this was over. The two of you can come to my house.”

  My eyebrows rose into my hairline, and I shook my head. “That’s sweet of you, but also awkward.”

  Fab giggled, making an inappropriate scissor action with her fingers. One step ahead of me, she moved aside before I could smack her.

  “The boat sleeps eight. It will be close quarters, but you’re not going to be there long,” Spoon said.

  “That’s a nice offer, but I have the cats to worry about,” I reminded him.

  Spoon woofed out a laugh. “First off, they’re cats and will acclimate. And they’re geriatric, so I highly doubt they’d ever entertain a swim or the long jump from the bow to the deck.”