Christmas in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 13) Read online

  “He’s got a male friend or two; they like to cruise the cheap bars,” I said.

  “What Madison means is that he likes to get laid and finds a never-ending stream of eager, likeminded partners that way,” Fab said, clearing up any confusion, not that Kevin could have any after living in close proximity to Crum.

  Whatever Didier did, Fab squeaked, then glared at him. He was a stickler for appropriate talk, and the two of us broke that rule on a constant basis.

  “Before you skip out the door, I’ve got a couple of questions. I’ll trade another can of soda for the answers,” I said.

  “That might be construed as bribery.” He flashed a smile, amused at himself.

  “Okay then, no soda. We might be able to help you solve another case.” I pointed at Fab and me.

  “This ought to be good.”

  Creole and Didier were listening before, but now they leaned forward, waiting to hear what I wanted.

  “Though you weren’t the responding officer, I’m sure you’ve heard that the funeral home got their Christmas deco ripped off. Got any leads, by any chance?” I asked.

  “No idea—didn't get assigned that one. My luck, when I get the call to go there, it will probably be about a dead body.”

  “There was that one time when the corpse woke up,” I reminded him.

  He frowned at me.

  “Any chance Dickie and Raul will get their decorations back?”

  Kevin shook his head. “Not unless they have them marked in some way, proving ownership. Stealing decorations is big this time of year. There’s usually no arrest, except on the rare occasions where the thief is caught red-handed or gets drunk and brags. Mostly, it’s just a matter of taking the report for insurance purposes.” He looked at Fab and me. “I suppose they hired the two of you? I wouldn’t put that on my PI resume, if I were you.” He directed that at Fab.

  “It’s a freebie,” I said. “You should be nice. One day, you’ll croak—hopefully from old age—and you’ll want a nice send-off, and what they’ll remember is all the times you were less than cordial.”

  Whatever he was about to say, one look at Creole and he changed his mind.

  His silence spurred me on. “Leave enough money for food and liquor in your will, and you’ll have a huge turnout. People you never met will stumble up to the podium and mumble something nice.”

  Kevin stood, a look of pure disgust on his face. “I earned that second soda by having to listen to this.” He crossed to the refrigerator and helped himself. “If you see Crum, tell him I want to talk to him. Remind him he can’t hide forever. If he doesn’t have anything to do with the robberies, it’s in his best interest to clear himself as a suspect.” He left without so much as a wave.

  “That was fun,” I said.

  “Why is this the first Creole and I are hearing about this decoration heist?” Didier tried for a fierce look and failed.

  “Any slain inflatables you two failed to mention?” Creole smirked.

  “The reindeer. Wasn’t it?” I turned to Fab for confirmation.

  Fab shrugged. “Flip you for who breaks it to Raul and Dickie.” She raised her eyebrow.

  I produced an imaginary coin out of thin air, set it on the end of my thumb, and flipped it in the air. Forgetting to catch it, I declared, “You.”

  Chapter Four

  Creole dropped a kiss on my forehead when he left at daylight to go for an early morning run with Didier. After that, they were headed down to the docks to check on some cleanup work in progress on a construction project Didier was managing. I rolled over and immediately went back to sleep until I was roused by a pounding on the bedroom door.

  “What the…” I yelled, blinking sleep fog from my brain. I recognized the noise as, most likely, a tennis shoe being applied vigorously to the bottom panel of the door.

  “Coffee’s ready!” Fab yelled back, kicked the door again, and then silence.

  “Her coffee is ready,” I mumbled, heading to the shower. The thought of going downstairs disheveled, my hair sticking on end, had me smiling.

  ~ ~ ~

  After a shower—during which I gave serious thought to using all the hot water, but I didn’t, knowing Fab would be back if I didn’t hurry—I rummaged through my closet, pulling on a black, knee-length skirt and sleeveless shirt and slipping into a pair of tennis shoes, not bothering with the laces. I stopped at the top of the staircase, and in an attempt to make as much noise as possible, I placed my hand gently on the railing, not wanting to disturb the greenery and ornaments I’d wrapped around it, and jumped down the stairs to the bottom. Every other step, I emitted a different animal noise, which I’d been told I never got right. At the bottom, I paused to enjoy the decorations in the living room and the tree in the corner, bursting with ornaments and strands of lights. It had been suggested that I overdid it, which I ignored.

  I stopped in the entry, toed off my shoes, and kicked them into the tray by the door, then turned and skidded into the kitchen, throwing out my arms. “Bon-jury.”

  Other than rolling her eyes, Fab didn’t respond to my antics. She pointed to a mug and my can of coffee mix. “One cup might not be enough.”

  I mixed everything together and put it in the microwave. “You could buy me an espresso.” I beamed at her.

  I was once again ignored. “We’ve got a job,” she said.

  “One of your special clients?” Which oftentimes meant illegal. “I thought you were taking December off before opening your new PI business.”

  The microwave dinged. Coffee in hand, I took a long drink before sliding onto a stool across from Fab.

  “It’s for Brick.” She waved me off before I could yell, oh maybe, Heck no. “It’s a car retrieval.”

  Brick Famosa was Fab’s oldest and sleaziest client. He owned a high-end sports car dealership in South Miami, along with a handful of other cash businesses.

  “Car retrieval” was fancy talk for repo job. It wouldn’t be our first recovery, and not a one of them had gone off without incident. “Another cash car rental that didn’t get returned?” He’d supposedly gotten out of that end of the business. “I thought you were on his do-not-call list.” He hadn’t called in a while, which pleased me. I’d almost managed to forget about him.

  “A relative that didn’t return a loaner.”

  “The last relative he sicced us on was a thief. I’m happy, for a number of reasons, that I’m not a member of that family. Which relative this time?”

  “He hemmed and hawed.” At my arched brow, she said, “I know—red flag. Finally told me it didn’t matter.”

  “The punch line is—” I jumped up, “—ta da.” And sat back down, laughing at her disgruntled look.

  “The Ferrari is out in the Alley.”

  “A Ferrari to a relative? First red flag. Alley as in Alligator Alley? Clearly the punch line.” Fab nodded. “Hell, no. Not going. Forget it,” I said, ending in a near shout.

  “Calm down. I don’t want to go either.”

  “The reason he called you, in my humble estimation, is that he couldn’t find anyone else to do the job and probably wouldn’t put the life of that Amazon assistant of his in danger.” I took a deep breath to calm down. The man had nerve. “How did you leave it?”

  She hesitated so long, I ordered, “Pick up your phone now and tell him to stick the job.”

  “Triple pay.”

  As if those two words said it all. “You know that means bullets, and you can’t spend the dough if you’re dead.”

  “Your attitude isn’t helpful. At least come up with a Plan B.”

  The cats awoke from one of their many naps and strolled single-file into the kitchen, Jazz leading the way, howling. Her usual ladylike self, Snow followed without a word. She knew Jazz could ramp up the drama all on his own and get them fed fast. The two chubby oldsters never missed a meal.

  “My backup plan is the same as my original one—tell him no. I highly doubt this is one of his relatives.”


  Fab nodded, which amped up my radar. I wondered what was going through that mind of hers.

  “I’m leaving.” I stood. “I’ve got to check on The Cottages since Mac hasn’t found a replacement for her Mrs. Claus gig. And Doodad wants a meeting. He’s never asked for one before. I told him I wanted assurances that he wasn’t quitting or I wouldn’t be in until January.”

  “I’m coming.” She stood, grabbed the mugs, and crossed to the sink.

  “Your job?”

  “I told Brick I had to think about it and would call him later. Surprised me when he didn’t end with a snide comment.”

  That right there was worrisome—the man always had a comeback.

  ~ ~ ~

  Fab pulled into the driveway of The Cottages, parking in front of the office. Mac’s truck was parked in front of Joseph’s door, and he leaned against the back bumper in his elf suit, dragging on a cigarette, getting ready to light another off the end of the old one.

  Mrs. Claus came around the corner from Crum’s, alternately tugging on her apron and fiddling with a white-haired wig, a poofy elastic bonnet in her hand. She bent over to smooth out her tights; then, becoming aware of Fab and I heading her way, she waved.

  “I don’t like that outfit.” Fab wrinkled her nose.

  “My guess is that the kids don’t care,” I said. “Don’t you remember sitting on Santa’s lap? It’s a fun memory to look back on. If you forget, you get a picture to remind you.”

  “Never did the Santa thing.”

  Hmm… My guess was her Christmases past were all grown-up affairs. I didn’t want to ask because it gave me an idea for a surprise of my own.

  “Where’s Crum?” I asked.

  Mac straightened up and jerked Joseph’s cigarette out of his mouth, grinding it under her shoe. She’d accented her costume with colorful lights, which framed her pockets and wrapped around the straps of her black Mary Janes. She pointed to Crum’s cottage. “Don’t upset him. He’s got five minutes; then we’ve got to leave for work.”

  “How are you doing?” I patted Joseph’s shoulder.

  “I’m having a good time.” He hacked. “Would be better if there weren’t any kids.”

  Mac clapped Joseph on the back hard enough that he dislodged something into the bushes.

  I turned in time to see Crum’s head disappear back inside the bathroom window, so I went over and knocked on his door.

  “You’re not in jail,” I stated the obvious when he opened the door in Santa pants, an undershirt, and suspenders, the most clothes I’d ever seen him in.

  He motioned me inside, poking his head back out and looking both ways before closing the door. “If the cops come back, I’m going to need a lawyer. You got a referral? And not your lawyer, Cruz. His snotty secretary told me he didn’t practice down here.”

  I sat down next to Harlot, asleep in her usual place on the couch, and scratched her neck, running my fingers through her fur. “The mention of your name probably brought up images of you doing the naked tango with his grandmother.” I shook my head. “I’ll text you the number of Ruthie Grace. She’s local and not put off by folks operating on half-load.”

  Crum straightened to his full height of well over six feet. “I’ll have you know—”

  I cut him off before he could launch into a tirade about who had the higher IQ. We both knew it was him. “I know you’re smarter than everyone in the Keys, but that doesn’t mean you should be let out of the house by yourself.”

  “As much as fun as this has been—” He sniffed. “—I’ve got to get to work, reassure the kiddies I’ll be at their house on Christmas Eve, and remind them not to forget the cookies. Mall management heard me tell one kid to lose the milk and ixnayed me saying that again. You’d have thought I asked for scotch.”

  “You need to stick to the script.” With a last ear rub for the cat, I stood and headed for the door.

  Crum grabbed a red jacket and black belt and followed me out.

  Before walking out the door, I turned and asked, “Did Kevin say why you’re a suspect?”

  “I’m the only Santa in town.”

  “Until this person is caught—and they will be, sooner or later—make sure you can account for your time. Alibis are always good. It would help if your witnesses weren’t known drunks.”

  He patted the top of my head. “Thanks for everything… stuff… whatever.”

  I debated either kicking him or laughing and did neither. “Stuff to you too. Have a good day.” I motioned to Fab to get a move on. “You need anything, call,” I said to Mac. I noticed the glare she sent at Fab. I’d find out what that was about when we got in the car.

  Fab and I waited and watched as they all climbed in Mac’s truck and she pulled out of the driveway.

  “What did you do to Mac?” I asked as soon as Fab turned onto the main highway, headed to Jake’s.

  “Mac likes her job at the mall, but she’s worried about the office and all the activity that goes on at the property. I thought she was asking me to take over, but after she had a good laugh, she said I didn’t have the people skills. She wanted to know if I knew anyone that could sub in for a few days.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it. And I’ll keep my fingers crossed that Mac finds a replacement Mrs. Claus quickly.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Fab flew into the parking lot of Jake’s. Coming to a screeching halt, she flipped up the visor, looking out the windshield. “What have you done?”

  “I did a little decorating, Ms. Grinch. If you give it a chance, it’s going to look spectacular at night.” The entire lot had been draped with colorful Christmas lights. Could it be overdone? Probably, but I liked it anyway.

  “Even my lighthouse.” She turned her head, scoping out the property.

  In addition to the bar, the block also housed the lighthouse, now used as office space during the week and a tourist attraction on weekends. There was also a roach coach, Twinkie Princesses, which was never open. I’d left a phone message for them to get in the holiday spirit, and two nights later, the mobile kitchen had been draped in lights with a star on top. Junker’s, a garden antiques dealer—some would say junk, but not in front of me—had been decorated since October.

  Tired of Fab’s slack-jawed expression, I got out of the SUV and slammed the door, walking into the bar and down to the far end, where I slid onto a stool. “I’ll have a Shirley Temple with plenty of cherries.” At Doodad’s amused look, I said, “Too early to get my drunk on.”

  “Where’s your sidekick?”

  “She’s outside, overwhelmed by my ostentatious display of lights.”

  “Saw it lit up last night, and it looks good.” He gave me a thumbs up. “I like them in here too; I think we should keep them up year round. It’s not like this is a classy joint.”

  “Just take down the tree.” I nodded to where it stood in the corner. “Since you’re not quitting, what’s up?”

  “I’d like to do a theme night or two each week until New Year’s. It’s late for advertising, but I know a guy at the local throwaway, and we could get some free pimping. Maybe litter the town with flyers. Word of mouth and the locals will bring more locals, and hopefully some tourists.”

  “How much effort would I have to put in?”

  “Put into what?” Fab asked, sliding onto a stool next to me. She picked up the glass Doodad had set in front of me and sniffed it.

  “She can’t have one; she’s driving,” I said.

  Fab took a sip and spit it back in the glass. “That’s terrible.”

  I glared at Doodad for laughing his silly head off. “You spit on my cherries. They’re ruined.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not. I’m going to tell on you.”

  That made Doodad laugh harder. He whisked the glass away. “What are you drinking?” he asked Fab.

  “Can you somehow make a soda and lime taste like a double martini?”

  It took a minute before he set our drinks down
in front of us. ”I’ve got it all handled,” he said to me.

  “Just remember, keep the gunfire to a minimum and the cops here for pleasure rather than business.”

  “You might want to relax your rules a little. Sure, a bar fight clears out the place, especially when it comes with the sound of approaching sirens. But the next few nights, they’re back, knee-deep, wanting to rehash events that they were never a part of. Which is good for your bottom line and my tip jar.”

  “Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?” Fab demanded.

  “Don’t look at me,” I said, pulling a cherry off one of the palm tree toothpicks we’d recently ordered.

  After a glare-down between Fab and Doodad, he broke down and told her.

  “Good idea,” she said.

  “Let me know the dates and themes. I want to be here for at least the first one,” I said.

  “This Saturday.” Doodad pulled a flyer out from behind the bar and handed it to me.

  “Costume party—holiday beach attire,” I read. “Prizes? What are they?”

  “We’ve got three. First place: three free drinks. Second place: one drink. Third place: a token for the jukebox.”

  Fab turned up her nose. “Who thought those prizes up?”

  “Where’s your sense of fun?” I asked. “Our clientele won’t care—they’ll jump into the spirit of the festivities.”

  Doodad knuckle-bumped me.

  Chapter Five

  Fab rounded the corner to the house on one tire. Not really, but it felt like it. My cry of “slow down” went through her ears without a second’s pause for recognition.

  “It’s Santa,” I said, pointing. “Is that on my property?” The eight-foot inflatable Santa stood to one side of the driveway, one arm in a perpetual wave, ropes anchoring it to the palm tree. “Where did it come from?” I hopped out before Fab could cut the engine.

  Tropical Santa had on a pair of bathing trunks, a Hawaiian shirt patterned with red and white hibiscuses, a red hat, white beard, and black flip-flops. Behind him, also secured to the tree, was a surfboard that matched his shirt.