Psycho in Paradise Read online

  I moved closer to Mac, standing shoulder to shoulder. There wasn’t anyone in hearing distance, but I didn’t want to take a chance. “Tell me Nestor isn’t wanted for murder or some other heinous crime.”

  “The warrant is for hit and run and car theft. He got an extra charge for the drugs in the trunk.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “My super-secret confidential source.” She beamed.

  “If the snack bill goes up, I’ll know it was Kevin. He can be bought.” Fab smirked at Mac.

  Mac looked ready to lunge. I grabbed her arm. “What else?”

  “Nothing.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Fab’s just jealous you got the info before her.”

  Appeased, Mac grinned. “Nestor’s been using a phony ID. His real name is actually Rupert Talbot. In fact, he’s used several aliases and has a rap sheet a mile long.”

  “Kevin’s been suspicious for months. No wonder he couldn’t come up with anything—assumed name and all.”

  “Nestor left the wrong person for dead. When the cops couldn’t find him, the ‘presumed victim’ put an investigator on it and tracked him here. The information was delivered to someone high up.” Mac relished dishing the details.

  “I’m worried about Miss January. Nestor was an ass to us, but he took good care of her.” In my opinion, the twosome resembled a remake of an old movie—teenage boyfriend/old woman girlfriend.

  “I’ll keep an eye on her,” Mac said on a sigh. “When she asks, I’m telling her the truth—that her boyfriend is a criminal. Otherwise, she’ll hear about it from someone else. This way, I can comfort her.”

  “Call your mother.” Fab nudged me. “Have her start the hunt for Miss January’s next boyfriend.”

  “I dare you to make the call.”

  Mother’s matchmaking attempts were often joked about… unless you were the one she decided to fix up.

  “Look who’s back,” Mac said.

  Kevin had Nestor in cuffs, one hand gripping his biceps as he led him across the pool area. Nestor fought him at every step.

  Mike, the officer who’d been standing guard at Miss January’s, met them in the driveway, grabbing hold of his other arm, and the two dragged him to Mike’s patrol car.

  Kevin was clearly not happy, looking disheveled from his run down the beach. Having seen Kevin in shorts and a t-shirt, I knew out-of-shape Nestor hadn’t stood a chance. “You are aware that you’re not to interfere in police investigations?” he said to Fab.

  “What?” Fab threw her hands up. “I was walking down the street, minding my own business, when I happened to notice Nestor making his break. A little ‘thank you’ would be nice.” She sniffed. “You wanted to stand out here all night? Maybe teargas an old woman?”

  “Yeah, thanks. Next time, do as you’re told and stand back, or better yet, get in your car and leave.” Kevin stomped over to his patrol car.

  “Go smooth things over with Kevin,” I whispered to Mac.

  She turned on me, brows raised. “Why me?”

  “You lost the coin toss,” I said. “Besides, it’s better coming from you, since he likes you better than either of us.”

  Mac took a step and paused, turning slightly. “Do I get a raise?”

  “You get my heartfelt thanks.” I put my hand on my chest. “That’s worth so much more.”

  “I’d rather have the money,” she grumbled before walking over to Kevin, who sat in his car, window down.

  “I’m thinking I’ll make her a ‘get out of jail free’ card. Saw the idea on the internet—gift ideas for those hard-to-buy-for people.”

  “I want one,” Fab said.

  “It’s understood between us. Our pact regarding breaking each other out has no expiration date, if it comes to that.”

  A breath of air grazed my cheek, and I jumped. Fab had blown on me.

  “I want to go now. The fun is over.”

  Chapter Four

  After Fab and I got home, we disappeared into our bedrooms and didn’t reappear until it was time to leave for family dinner night, an evening meant to show support for Brad.

  Creole and Fab no longer played tug-of-war over who was driving. Creole and I climbed into the back seat of the SUV, I stretched out and laid my head in his lap, and we talked, ignoring Fab and Didier in the front.

  The Westins didn’t have a reputation for being on their best behavior at these get-togethers, especially me, often egged on by Fab.

  Pulling up in front of the condo complex, we followed another car through the security gate. Spoon had pitched a fit at our use of lockpicks as acceptable methods of entry, and Mother asked us to stop. “You have a key,” she’d huffed. Fab buzzed through the security panel as we passed, and when Spoon’s voice boomed through, she blew in it. I laughed, and the guys frowned.

  When the elevator arrived at the top floor, the doors opened on Spoon, leaning against the jam, smirk firmly in place.

  I was happy to see Ruthie Grace already seated in the living room. Good, she hadn’t thought better of coming. I had a lukewarm relationship with the woman, and when Mother and I had teamed up to help Brad, I sicced Mother on her to unleash that maternal charm of hers. They’d since become friends.

  No sign of Phil. I wondered if she had a good excuse, such as a sudden case of ptomaine poisoning. I’d ask Brad, but another time. For now, I’d ignore the fact that she wasn’t here with everyone else. Tonight was not about annoying him.

  Spoon offered Fab and Didier a drink, and they followed him over to the bar cart. Brad came out of the kitchen, an apron around his waist, and waved a greeting. He got Didier’s attention, motioning him over to the counter.

  Creole tugged on my arm. “Are you going to behave tonight?”

  “It depends on whether there’s a pitcher of margaritas with my name on it… or wine.” I wrinkled my nose. “Promise, if you see me teetering on the edge of making a scene, that you’ll grab me back.”

  “Break it up, you two,” Mother said with a laugh, enveloping us in a hug. “Everyone is here except for Phil. She had a business meeting.”

  Liam stuck his head out of the kitchen and waved.

  I left Mother with Creole and crossed the room for a hug. “I’m surprised to see you here on a school night.”

  “It’s the best way to stay in the loop. Besides, I’ll end up with food to take back to the dorm.”

  “You’re a true Westin—loving those leftovers.”

  “Met Brad’s attorney. Not quite what I expected.” Liam eyed the dark-haired woman in her colorful caftan.

  “That’s most people’s first impression. I’ve seen in her court. In her tailor-made suit, she comes off as approachable with a spine of steel and has a way of putting people at ease.” I gave him another hug. “I need to go kiss up to the woman. It comes in handy to have an attorney on speed dial, especially a good one.”

  Creole appeared at my side, wine glass in hand, which he handed to me. I frowned at it but took it anyway.

  “Now that you’re practically part of the family, does this mean you’ll take my phone calls, Counselor Grace?” I greeted her. When we first met, she’d emphasized to Fab and I that she preferred that moniker.

  “Please call me Ruthie.” She tipped her wine glass at me. “Are you also in need of a lawyer? As for your brother’s case, you can’t ask any questions—keep in mind that pesky little thing called client confidentiality.”

  Fab, who’d left the guys at the bar, reached my side in time to hear the last part of the conversation.

  “Neither of us has been arrested this week.” I nudged Fab. “I’m volunteering both our services for my brother’s case.”

  “Not to be rude…” But hung in the air. Ruthie flashed us a professional smile. “I’m not in need of an unlicensed investigator. Or a licensed one. I’m fortunate to have a good one I’ve been using for years.”

  You could hear a pin drop.

  I’d missed the moment when the r
oom had gone silent and all ears tuned into our conversation.

  Brad hustled across the room, putting his arm around my shoulders. “I’m sure everyone here is in agreement that Ruthie’s investigator can do all the digging. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  “Who tracked your ass down when Patty kidnapped you? And the faith you had in me not to give up until you were found, where did that go?” I managed to say evenly; no yelling about how stupid he was being.

  Patty had drugged him and taken him to a foreclosed house, where she tied him up and shared her delusional rantings about marriage, starting a family, and living happy ever after. Fab, Creole, Didier, and I worked together to track down his location, calling in the cops after we found him.

  “Really, Madison.” Mother shook her head.

  I didn’t remind her that we were all adults and every one of us had heard the word “ass” before.

  “What have you got so far?” Ruthie asked. From her tone, she didn’t expect it to be anything useful.

  “Client confidentiality. If Brad were to sign a permission slip, then I could share.” I eyed Brad in challenge, and when he didn’t say anything, I said, “I’m going to be part of this case whether you like it or not because you are not going to jail.” My voice was loud enough that no one had to strain to hear.

  Spoon refilled Ruthie’s glass. “Westins never let you wonder what’s on their minds.”

  Fab stood and stretched, which I’d never seen her do. My guess was she wanted all eyes on her, and she succeeded. “If Brad doesn’t want your help, then fine,” she said to me. “We’ll take the reports and go.” She picked up my tote, which Creole had set down next to a barstool.

  Ruthie perked up. “What reports?” she and Brad asked at the same time.

  Mother patted Ruthie’s hand. “It really does save time if we can be kept up to date together and not have to bother Brad, since he’s a busy man.”

  “Well?” I stared straight at Brad.

  “You need all the help you can get, dude.” Liam clapped him on the back.

  “Okay, fine,” Brad ground out. “You need my permission, you’ve got it. Your safety is top priority, and yours too.” He turned his glare to include Fab.

  “According to the coroner, Patty was strangled manually.” I put my hands around my neck, making a choking noise.

  Spoon grinned.

  “I’m sure this is all old news, huh, Counselor?” Fab asked. “We’re not that hungry, so we’ll get take-out on the way home, although we’d like our dessert to go. We’ll leave you to your tidbit-sharing.”

  Fab and Ruthie exchanged dirty looks. “The report hasn’t been released yet.” Ruthie looked at me with new interest.

  The guys looked down, shoulders shaking.

  “No one is going anywhere.” Mother used her no-nonsense voice. “I didn’t slave all day in the kitchen to have everyone leave before eating.” More laughter. Everyone in the room knew that Mother didn’t slave over anything but the to-go menus. She continued, “New family rule: No intense discussions until after we eat.”

  Brad was the first to ignore the new rule. “Patty looked like she’d blow away in a stiff wind, but physically, she was strong. She engaged in an intense workout routine every day. Someone would have to catch her off guard, get the jump on her.”

  “Had to be someone she trusted. Who? My money’s on a man.” I turned to Fab. “You’re pretty kick-butt, do you think you could…”

  “I’d have shot her.” Fab made a couple of popping noises.

  Didier laughed and winked at her.

  Fab beamed back.

  “I’d like to hear what you’ve got,” Ruthie said.

  Fab waved me off before I could answer. “First you agree that if you need any information with regards to Brad you’ll call us first. And to share anything that would help us in pursuit of additional information.”

  All eyes went to Brad, who hesitated.

  “We’re talking ferreting out info, not house-to-house searches,” I said. That would come if we found any viable persons of interest.

  “I’ll sign anything you need me to,” Brad said to his lawyer.

  “We’ll shake on it, figuratively speaking.” Fab stuck her hand out an inch in front of her chest, and I copied her.

  From the grouchy look on Ruthie’s face, she wasn’t in the mood for the symbolic handshake. “I reserve the right to withhold information when it’s in the best interests of my client.”

  “Dinner’s ready,” Mother announced. “Any more legal maneuverings can wait until after we eat.”

  * * *

  After dinner, we stayed seated at the dining table, which had been moved in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, giving us a spectacular view of the lights glistening off the water below. The conversation around the table remained light.

  Mother directed me to clear dishes while Spoon refilled glasses and Didier and Creole put away the leftovers.

  Once we were all reseated, Ruthie asked, “Anything else of importance?”

  “A couple of months ago, Patty escaped the nuthouse. Actually, a local emergency room,” I said, unsure what she knew, as her expression wasn’t easy to read.

  “You’d think, since I was a victim of hers and agreed to her going to a mental institution instead of fighting for a state prison sentence, that I’d get a call,” Brad said in pure frustration.

  “Even if you were alerted, chances are it wouldn’t have changed the outcome,” I said. “Patty’s clever. There’s no way that her escape wasn’t planned down to the last detail. Here’s what I know so far. Patty got transported to the local emergency room and, not long after, traded her hospital gown for street clothes and walked out. At the curb, a car was waiting, an older model that we’ve yet to identify. I’m working on getting a better photo to get the license tag.”

  “No one here knows cars better than I do,” Spoon said. “If you need an ID on the make and model, I’m your man.”

  “You’d do that?” I asked sweetly.

  Brad laughed. “She got you.”

  I’d moved my tote next to my chair and now reached in, pulling out a grainy 8x10 and holding it out. “Here you go.”

  Spoon stood, shaking his head, and came around the table to grab it out of my hand, holding it under a nearby lamp. “Early sixties Rambler. Haven’t seen one of these on the road in a long time.”

  “Mail your bill directly to Brad,” I said.

  Creole scrutinized the picture. “I’ll call a couple of guys I know who live local and tell them to keep an eye out. It won’t be hard to spot.”

  “You got any more car questions, call me first,” Spoon offered. “If I don’t know, which isn’t likely, I can find out.”

  “The photo might be a wild goose chase,” Ruthie said. “Have you verified where it came from?”

  “It came from the security camera right outside the hospital,” I said.

  “And you got your hands on that how?” Ruthie asked. “That takes a warrant, and you couldn’t possibly have gotten one of those.”

  Creole and Didier turned to Fab.

  Fab shrugged. “Not me.”

  “Friend of a friend type of thing,” I said, not about to disclose GC’s activities to anyone. “I’ve got a man unearthing Patty’s life, before and after Brad, and after she skipped out of the hospital. Where she went, what she did, and who she was doing it with. She’s from South Carolina, and I’ve got a man on that—maybe her family would be willing to share something helpful. Surely they’ll want the real killer behind bars. I’m hoping my guy can turn up something that will answer the question of who really killed her.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got everything covered,” Ruthie said, conveying that she didn’t believe I did.

  “I personally assigned the man who’s tracking Patty,” Fab said. “He acts like he’s a mental patient, so he’s a perfect fit for the job.”

  Brad arched his brow.

  Toady, I mouthed.


  He grimaced.

  Toady was Brad’s neighbor out in Alligator Alley, where he owned a second home. Toady discouraged trespassers of the two-legged variety from coming onto the property with the incentive of the shotgun he carried everywhere. The fascination that area held for Brad escaped everyone in the family.

  “Don’t forget the mental patient that Patty hung out with in the hospital. Apparently, they have coed events.” Fab smiled, enjoying the telling of that tidbit.

  “Patty was a model patient and kept to herself. She mostly hung out with her roommate, who she got along well with, and another patient, Leo Main,” I said. “Leo checked out four months ago, and as it turns out, he relocated to California and is living with his mother. Also, there was a man who made regular visits that stopped a couple of days before she escaped. Coincidence? Who believes in those? I’m working on getting his name and picture.” I wondered if I’d sufficiently impressed the lawyer, proving I could do the job. “Once I get back the complete background report on Patty, I’ll check out anyone linked to her.”

  “Good job.” Creole squeezed my shoulder.

  “I have to admit you’ve got good information,” Ruthie said. “Can I get the name and number of your information person? I might be able to throw some work his way.”

  Not going to happen.

  Fab spoke up. “We’ll give him your information, and he can contact you. He likes to maintain his anonymity.”

  I didn’t make eye contact with Fab. We both knew GC wouldn’t take her on as a client.

  Chapter Five

  Fab pulled up in front of the Bakery Café, finding a parking spot right in front of our favorite table, the last one at the end of the sidewalk.

  “I didn’t think we’d ever get here,” I complained. “Coffee is the juice of life.”

  “I don’t know where you got that nonsense from, but you need to stop.” Fab grabbed my arm as I reached for the door handle. “That’s Cara. Three tables down.” She pointed.

  We’d rescued Cara when her grandmother got arrested running an illegal dog-fighting operation and delivered her to the other set of grandparents, who lived north of Miami.