Lottery in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 11) Page 2

  “You might want to do something with your gun besides hold it in your hand,” I said, though I had no idea what. She certainly couldn’t put it in her bikini. The two pieces of string holding a meager piece of material in place wouldn’t take the extra weight. “It won’t fit in your bathing suit.”

  “Put this in the house for me.” She stuck out her Walther.

  I shook my head. “You need to be responsible for your own firearm.” I used the lecturing tone I’d perfected after hearing it from Mother over the years.

  “The only reason I don’t pull your hair out is that you’re my best friend and I’d probably never find another one.”

  I stuck out my lower lip.

  Fab emitted an unrecognizable sound and raced past me into the house.

  “I notice she didn’t try to pass it off on me.” Didier frowned, crossing his arms, unhappy with his girlfriend. The hot couple had been fraying around the edges lately, often exchanging unhappy glances and grouching in French.

  “Did you really expect Fab to stick her feet in the pool and ignore the drama? Leave it to Creole? You knew exactly what you were getting into when you met her; you can’t expect her to change now. If you succeeded in making her over into a milquetoast yes-woman, you’d be bored in a half-second.” I didn’t add that that plan had no chance of success. “Careful what you wish for.”

  Didier and I moved closer to the crime scene. Since the arrival of law enforcement, a few neighbors had come outside, vacating their doorsteps to get a closer view.

  Scotch Thomas, the newly deceased, had bought the house six months prior from my previous neighbor, who went to live with his daughter and “let my grandkids drive me crazy.” Scotch had so far been a good neighbor—no wild parties and no collection of odd friends. He’d kept to himself, working on an old junker in the garage located on the other side of the house. The weekly newspaper had recently run Scotch’s picture, showing him under a banner proclaiming him the newest million-dollar scratch-off lottery winner.

  Kevin stepped out of his police car, surveyed the street, and nodded in my direction.

  “Let’s hope this guy wasn’t murdered, or Kevin will be over here arresting the lot of us.” Didier nudged me. “You in particular. You’re always his first choice as a suspect, even though you’ve never murdered anyone. Have you?”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “Clean rap sheet?”

  I felt bad that the elegant Frenchman had begun learning about the seedier side of life shortly after moving in and listening to careful edits of Fab’s and my adventures. Not that he had any choice in the relocation, as Fab had moved his belongings and surprised him with it after the fact. It didn’t take long before he was accepted as a family member.

  “Not sure.” I wanted to laugh at the surprise on his face. “I’ve had a couple of arrests, but once they found out they had the wrong girl, I was released. Don’t know if that stays on my permanent record or not.”

  Fab joined us. She’d pulled on a pair of jeans and a top and brought Didier a t-shirt.

  I glared at her for not bringing me a cover-up, and in return, she ignored me. I excused myself and ran into the house and up the stairs. It took less than a minute to jerk a sundress over my head and grab up a shirt for Creole and run back outside.

  “Catch.” I tossed the shirt to Creole, who had reappeared after rerouting people away from the crime scene until the cops showed up.

  He caught it easily and winked, pulling it over his head. “The girlfriend, Ruby Dailey, found the body, the front door wide open. They had plans to cook dinner together and watch a movie. “

  “We didn’t hear any gunshots,” Fab pointed out. “How long do you think he’s been dead? I’m not good at guessing just by looking.”

  More police cars blew around the corner, followed by an ambulance and fire truck.

  “That’s the coroner’s job,” Creole said, his attention on the comings and goings. “He didn’t shoot himself. There was no gun lying nearby. This is a murder case.”

  “Ruby have any clues?” I asked.

  “It’s hard to get details out of a hysterical woman, and in addition, it’s not my case.” Creole pulled me to his side. “I spotted an old beach chair and suggested she sit and pull herself together so she could be helpful to the cops. Told her if she needed a ride home to come over.”

  Kevin Cory walked up, his patented smirk firmly in place, twirling a pair of cuffs on his finger. “Anyone want to confess now?” His brown eyes bore into mine. “Make my job easier.”

  The man had a clear-cut case of split personality. There was the uptight sheriff’s deputy, whose mantra was arrest first, then ask questions, and whose slicked-back hair was plastered to his head with a shiny goop that accentuated his snootiness. But in his off-duty persona, he was the life of the party, giving credence to the saying: work hard, party in the same fashion. In that persona, windblown and tanned, you’d mistake him for any other boy-next-door beach dude.

  “None of us killed him.” I flashed a brief smile.

  “Any of you know anything?” Kevin asked and briefly turned away, apparently bored.

  Creole took a step forward. “We were on the patio, heard the girlfriend scream. Scotch hadn’t live here long and kept to himself, no disturbances.”

  “If you remember anything else, I’m sure you have me on speed dial.” Clearly distracted, Kevin headed down the driveway.

  “I’m surprised he didn’t arrest us.” Fab kept her voice low.

  Didier nodded in agreement.

  “Rumor has it…” I cast a glance toward the street, where Creole had just caught up with Kevin, and they stood off to the side talking. “Kevin got reprimanded by Sheriff Tatum and was told not to bring any of us in without a warrant.”

  “Let’s go inside.” Didier put his arms around Fab and me and steered us in the direction of the front door. “There’s nothing more to learn tonight.”

  Chapter Three

  Coming out of my bedroom, I paused to give Fab’s door a hard kick, a little trick I learned from her. Not hearing an angry tirade in French, I paused at the top of the stairs to make sure no one was in the living room, threw my leg over the banister, and rode it the short distance to the bottom. Smoothing down my skirt, then following the smell of coffee into the kitchen.

  Fab sat at the island, scowling at me. “I heard you kicking the door.”

  I ignored her, scanning the counters for my can of coffee mix, which Fab referred to as ‘canned ick.’ “Did you make me coffee?”

  “You’re cheerful,” Fab observed with suspicion.

  I took one of my seashell mugs from the cupboard, filled it with water, and stuck it in the microwave.

  “Earlier, a couple of young guys showed up, snooping around the house next door.” Fab watched me closely for my reaction.

  I closed my eyes, shaking my head. “Just great. Murder… now what?” I retrieved my mug, stirred in the mix, squirted a bit of whipped cream into my coffee, pretending it came from my favorite coffee place, and slid onto the stool across from her. “Didier leave early?” She nodded. “So you thought, well heck, I’ll lurk around the neighborhood. I didn’t hear gunshots; did you forget your gun?”

  “Didier made me promise not to shoot anyone unless it’s self-defense and there are witnesses.”

  I tried to bite back the laughter but failed.

  Fab downed the rest of her latte and banged the mug on the countertop. “Do you want to hear the rest?”

  I winced, breathing a sigh of relief that the mug hadn’t broken into pieces.

  “They weren’t professional burglars. While one tried to kick open the front door,” Fab said in disgust, “the other checked for an unlocked window, didn’t find one, and didn’t have the guts to smash one in. The side gate was apparently locked, and after a couple of failed attempts to scale it, they disappeared around the far side for less than a minute and were back. They hopped into a rundown pickup with out of state plate
s and took off.”

  I held out my hand. “Show me the picture.”

  Fab took pictures of everything, and that included dead people.

  She flicked through her phone and handed it over. “Never seen the car before. Wonder what they wanted? We could have the tags run.”

  “I’ll tell Creole and let him handle it. That will make Didier happy.”

  Sadness flickered across her face. Translation: she’d seriously annoyed her boyfriend and he was mad once again. It was her own fault that she made promises and then didn’t live up to them.

  “I need the SUV.” I stood and grabbed the keys out from under her hand. “Technically, it is my car.”

  “I’ll drive,” Fab grouched.

  “First one in the driver’s seat gets to drive.” I headed out of the kitchen, opening the front door. Fab yanked me back by the back of my shirt and slipped past me.

  * * *

  Halfway to Mother’s, I got a text from Crum: “You better get over here.” I tried calling back, but the call went to voicemail. Fab hung a u-turn and muttered, “Hope it’s not another dead body.”

  “The last one was at least natural causes.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief when Fab’s heart-stopping drive came to an end as she rounded the corner to the property that I owned. Two police cars blocked the driveway. Fab circled the block and backed into the driveway of the building the neighbors called “the yellow house,” a duplex now owned by my manager, Mac, and an ex-tenant, Shirl. It was directly across the street from The Cottages and offered a view of the property.

  I’d inherited the ten units from my Aunt Elizabeth—individual cottages built around a U-shaped driveway and backed up to the beach with easy access. Out of view from where we were parked was the large pool and tiki bar area.

  My first project had been to give the property a sprucing up: repainting each unit in different art deco colors and updating the landscaping, filling in bare spots with flowers and trees and plenty of lighting.

  Fab and I had on our usual work attire, me in a short full skirt that was long enough to conceal my Glock when it was holstered on my thigh, with my top covering it if I wore it at the small of my back, Fab in skinny jeans and a sleeveless top that covered her Walther and accentuated her toned arms. Today, she had ditched the stilettos and opted for a pair of flats.

  I retrieved my phone from my pocket and called Mac on speed dial. It had been another lucky day for me when she walked into the pool area, announcing she was ready to apply for the job before I’d even told anyone I needed a manager. Well, I’d told one person, and that was all it took. Mac possessed the right amount of crazy to relate to the tenants and keep them in line—for the most part.

  When Mac answered, I barked, “Why is law enforcement parked in the driveway?”

  “Oh hell! Why does the good stuff always happen when I’m gone?”

  I heard the honking of horns.

  “I’m three minutes away and will get you an answer.” Mac hung up.

  “She could’ve at least said good-bye,” Fab grouched.

  “My guess is, much like you, she needs two hands to cut through traffic and get here faster.” I turned and smirked out the passenger window. I’d finally gotten used to Fab’s driving and no longer gripped the sissy bar with my eyes squeezed shut.

  “Quick, slide down in your seat before he sees us.” Fab hunched in her seat, eyes level with the dashboard.

  He who?

  I looked out the windshield. Kevin was making his way down the driveway straight for us. “Do you think I could call the sheriff’s department and ask that they assign another deputy to show up once in a while?”

  Kevin and I pretended to get along. His sister, Julie, had dated my brother, so Kevin got invited to an occasional family dinner, which didn’t need to be more awkward than they already were, just due to his presence. He was a tenant my brother had snuck in when his previous residence burst into flames. It had been suggested several times that he move out, but so far, he hadn’t taken a single hint.

  Now that Julie had moved to California, we kept up the pretense for her teenage son, Liam, who had stayed behind to finish his senior year in high school. She’d recently gotten a second part in a movie, and I suspected the move was now permanent. I wanted to question Brad about their relationship status but minded my own business, which was hard.

  Mac whizzed around the corner in her pristine white pickup and squealed to a stop in front of her house. Kevin, who had started across the street, came to a halt halfway and backed up. He scowled when she hopped out of her truck, whipping off her ground-dragging floral skirt and throwing it on the seat, leaving her clad in running shorts and a top that she smoothed over her large assets and patted into place.

  Kevin smirked, staring at her chest and not raising his eyes as he crossed the street. He knocked on the driver’s side window of our car as Mac opened the back door and slid across the seat, reaching over and hitting the locks.

  Fab cracked the window. “Yeah, what do you want?”

  “Anyone die?” I yelled across the seats.

  Kevin twirled his finger for Fab to roll down the window.

  “This better be good,” Fab grumbled.

  “Look you two, I’m doing my best to be friendly; you could make the same effort. I don’t mind going back to being a complete bastard.” Kevin smiled.

  “Friendly? That’s what you’re doing?” I stopped myself from an eye roll. “We can do friendly, can’t we?” I smacked Fab’s arm.

  I had no idea what look Fab sent Kevin’s way, but his brown eyes went hard with annoyance. He turned and walked back across the street.

  “You couldn’t be reasonably agreeable for two minutes so we could find out what is going on?” I opened the door, burning Fab with a glare.

  I crossed the street as Kevin’s patrol car reached the end of the driveway and turned in the opposite direction, the other cop car following behind.

  Annoyed, I headed straight for Professor Crum’s cottage. He would know what was going on and would hopefully offer up a straight answer that made sense. He was the second tenant my brother had sneaked in behind my back. I’d finally threatened bodily harm if he did it again.

  Before I could raise my hand to knock, the door opened. Crum filled the doorway with his thin, wiry, over-six-foot frame, white hair sticking up. I stayed focused on his face, but out of the corner of my eye, I caught that he had on his signature tighty-whities paired with purple clogs. Shocked didn’t quite cover my reaction when I was informed that there were no laws to prevent him from prancing around mostly naked.

  The retired professor’s references were impeccable. The woman I spoke to at the prestigious California university where he’d tenured had nothing but good things to say. As for me, he’d made a poor first impression, and subsequent meetings hadn’t improved on it.

  He stood aside and swept out his arm, welcoming me inside. I peeked in before stepping over the threshold. The couch was covered in newspaper, and Harlot the cat was curled up next to a pillow, sound asleep.

  I ignored his offer of a chair and stayed standing. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Another dead body,” he said and then burst out laughing.

  Sensing this was going to be a long story, I sat next to Harlot and stroked her fur; she rewarded me with a purr. “Let me in on the joke. Kevin didn’t say a word.”

  “Joseph was late getting back from his doctor’s appointment, and some new lady friend stopped by. When he didn’t answer, she went around peering in the windows. The blood-curdling scream that came out of her mouth made my chest hair stand on end.” He patted the few white hairs. “She claimed to see a dead person. Before I could check it out, she had 911 on the phone. When I heard the sirens coming up the street, I went inside and locked the door.”

  “Why? Did you kill anybody?”

  “Nooo. The woman overreacted. I don’t want to get too grisly, but what she saw was Svetlana lying over a
chair at an odd angle, legs in the air. She made up different scenarios as to how Svet had died, and only Kevin’s threat of arrest put a stop to the hysteria.”

  “Who dies with their legs in the air?” I tried not to laugh. “Is Svet okay?” The “woman” in question was actually a well-endowed rubber doll that Joseph had inherited, along with outfits and wigs. “Is Joseph treating her okay?” I liked Svet and sometimes forgot the hot Swedish woman was full of air. She’d turned out to be the ideal tenant—quiet, never talked back, never a problem; my other tenants could use her as a role model.

  “Joseph actually smiles once in a while. It’s odd to hear him talk about her; you’d have no idea she’s not, uh… human.”

  “The rest of the story…” I said, impatient with the man.

  “At the same time Kevin blew in the driveway, Joseph came strolling up. Kevin told the woman to get a grip, and she threw herself in his arms and started wailing. I thought old Kev would lose his lunch. He got her to sit down, where she soaked his handkerchief before finally pulling herself together and lamenting that she’d fallen in love with a pervert. To which Kevin snorted and inquired how long they’d been dating, as he hadn’t seen her around. She answered once, but that Joseph had forgotten his wallet and she paid, which brought on more tears.”

  Cheap bastard!

  “How’s Joseph doing?” I asked.

  “In pure frustration, Kevin barked ‘jail’ at him, and the blood drained from his face. I think Kevin felt bad because he told him to go inside and lie down.”

  “How did you hear all of this if you were inside your cottage?”

  “I never close the bathroom window. I’ve got a bird’s-eye view of the hotspots, the ones that provide the most entertainment, and the ideal place to eavesdrop. This time, they were close enough I could hear every word.”

  I wanted to warn him not to start peeing out the window like the man in the building next door. Instead, I made a mental note to tell Mac; she could have that talk with Crum.

  “I’m sure Fab is stomping her dainty foot in frustration.” I scratched Harlot around her neck and crossed to the door. “If Joseph is still looking pale, ask Shirl to check him over. She’ll know if he needs to go to the hospital.”