Bodies in Paradise Page 5
“I’m not a fan of the windows down, but if you’re going to be sick, then by all means.”
Her superior tone was so annoying that I didn’t bother with a comeback.
“The turn is coming up.” Fab pointed in an off-hand way. “As you know, Gunz is partial to his real estate holdings being local. Claims he doesn’t have time to drive all over creation.”
“Which he wouldn’t do anyway. He has you.”
Fab turned off the highway, and there wasn’t a house on the street that didn’t need a little TLC. She cruised slowly through the neighborhood, scanning for addresses, which weren’t always in plain view. She found the property easily enough and slowed before turning into the driveway of what appeared to be a run-down single family home.
“I thought Gunz preferred properties that only required a spit shine to get them rented?” I squinted out the window, shaking my head. I could hear the cha-ching in my head as I mentally tallied reno costs.
“It’s been designated a historical structure,” Fab said in a snooty tone as she pulled onto the gravel patch at the front.
“Whatever.” I laughed at her and caught sight of her smirk. “Gunz-ola is being conned. I don’t believe any structures have that designation here in the Cove. He needs to check with the appraiser’s office before forking out for a title that no one gives a squat about. At least not around here.”
“Would you stop with the names? One of these times, it’ll slip out, and what kind of excuse will I come up with?”
“Easy. Since I’ll be the offender, you roll your eyes. If it’s you, then you better come up with something and quick.” I turned my attention back to the dump in front of us. “Rehab or bulldoze?” I tapped my chin. “I know what I’d do.”
“You’re not being helpful.”
I saluted, much to her disgust, I was certain, because it made her laugh.
“You know more about real estate than I do, so what’s your opinion?” Fab asked.
“We haven’t seen the inside, but based on the crumbling exterior, my guess is that it will be in the same shape. If that’s the case, then a complete gut job. The renovation budget can skyrocket, depending on the work he wants done and whether he wants top-of-the-line finishes. Probably best to go for somewhere in between. Cheapest isn’t always best.” I looked out the window and down the street in both directions. “I’d run the numbers of the neighborhood before investing a dime. Capture the best and worst aspects of the property in pictures, and the rest of the block as well. If he’s still interested, then he can send out his contractor for an estimate.” I glanced at the neighboring house. It was in the same neglected shape, but there were cars in the driveway.
“First on the list is checking for squatters.”
“I’ll be waiting right here while you’re having all the fun.”
“You better get out of the car,” Fab grumbled as she slid out and rounded the front.
I waved through the windshield.
She crossed her arms and glared.
She almost had it down. Almost. All she needed was a few more lessons from Mother. I shook my head in response.
She marched around and opened the passenger door. I’d forgotten to lock it. No matter, she had the keys. “You can’t allow your best friend in the entire world to go in by herself.”
I got out. “I concede that you have a point, and you can expect to hear that line of reasoning tossed back at you. Here’s the best I can do for you—I’ll go as far as the front door… close enough, in my opinion. I’m inviting my friend along.” I drew my Glock from my waist holster. “The first sign of trouble, and I’m out of there. In fact, if anything goes south, pick me up at the corner.”
“You’d leave me to fend for myself in a shoot-out?”
“Maybe not. It’s been a while since I’ve nicked anyone, and I wouldn’t want to get out of practice.”
Fab smirked. “I don’t really want to crawl through the overgrowth to get to the front door. Let’s check around back.”
“If anyone is lurking inside, they can’t see out the windows, so you’ll have the element of surprise.”
Fab led the way, phone out and clicking away.
The overgrowth was ridiculous. So happy I’d changed to crop sweats and tennis shoes. We tramped around the side of the house. We tramped through the knee-high weeds along the side of the house and curved around to the backyard, a weed-filled open space, the fence leaning in places, where it came close to kissing the ground. There was a large screened-in patio, the door missing. The rotted structure was hanging on by a nail or two, and built long before treated wood, which wouldn’t be my first choice for Florida. The siding on the house had taken a beating and hung off in places, matching the rest of the house.
Finally, we reached the back door of the house. Fab reached out and opened the screen door, which fell to one side and hung precariously, one side tied to the doorframe at the top with a rope.
“Forget knocking. If someone were here, they’d be poking their head out about now to check out the source of the racket.”
“I’m going for the element of surprise. You better not ditch me.”
“It’s quiet at least. That’s a good sign. Hopefully.” I had my Glock positioned at my side, not willing to reholster it until I got back in the car. “I’ll stand guard at the door. Once you’ve cleared every room, holler, and I’ll come in. Maybe.”
Fab had her lockpick in hand, but noticed that the door wasn’t closed and shoved it back in her pocket. She toed the door; then, with a kick, it opened into the kitchen. The interior was covered in a thick layer of grime, and a smell emanated from it that had both of us covering our noses. Based on the filth and the variety of dead bugs, no one had used the place in a long time.
I grabbed the back of her shirt. “Dead body? Maybe,” I whispered. As promised, I stayed by the door and tried not to look too closely at the surroundings. Instead, I mentally took a roach count—toes up verified they’d taken their last breath. Twelve. I shuddered.
Fab moved cautiously forward and poked her head into the living room, waving me back with her gun-free hand. “Anybody home?” she yelled and continued out of sight.
I swear if anyone answers, I’m on the run.
Fab was back in seconds and gave me a nudge. “Hustle it up and don’t touch anything.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I beat it out into the backyard, and the first thing I did was fill my lungs with fresh air.
“Dead bodies,” Fab whispered.
“How many?” What was it with these empty properties and dead bodies? It wasn’t our first find.
“One in the living room, who hasn’t been dead as long as the two in the bedroom, and uh… they’ve been deceased a while, based on… well, you know.”
We rounded the side of the house and came face to face with two cops, their guns drawn. Thankfully, we’d both reholstered ours.
“Hands up,” one yelled. Past his shoulder, I could see their cars blocking the Hummer in the driveway. “Have a seat.” He pointed to a dirt patch.
We did as instructed.
“I guess we don’t have to flip to see who calls 911,” I whispered.
A third car pulled up, and Kevin Cory got out.
“It’s not often that I can say I’m happy to see him,” Fab whispered.
“I wouldn’t say our relationship with him has worked to our benefit in the past, so hang onto your lukewarm enthusiasm.”
Kevin closed the distance and spoke to the two officers, then walked over to us. “We got a call about a couple of armed robbers, and look, it’s you two.” He motioned for us to stand.
“I’ll check out the inside.” One cop started toward the house.
“You might want to hold off for a second,” Fab called out. “I should give you a heads up on what you’re going to find.”
“What?” Kevin demanded as the other cop back-stepped to where he could hear what was said.
Fab told the offi
cers why we were there and about her discovery, her nose wrinkling, letting them know to be prepared for the smell.
“I’ll call it in,” Cop One said and walked back to his car.
“Did you mention to the other officers that you’re both carrying?” Kevin asked. We shook our heads. “Set them on the ground.”
Fab and I once again did as we were told.
Cop Two came over and bagged them.
“When did you two start doing property inspections?” Kevin asked, clearly suspicious of our story.
“When you’ve got a good client and they ask, you do it,” Fab said. “In the five minutes that we’ve been here, we got to the back door, which was open, and I yelled inside and didn’t get an answer. Besides checking out the general condition of the property, I needed to find out if someone was living here, legally or otherwise.”
“Were you able to make an ID on any of the bodies? Friends, perhaps?” Kevin asked.
“They’re all decomposed.” Fab grimaced. “One not as bad as the other two, but still.”
“You two are sure racking up the bodies,” Kevin said.
“Speaking of… you fish the second body out of the water yet? ID the first one, perhaps?” I asked, even though I already knew.
“No, to both.” He made it sound more like none of your business.
“Do the divers with the sheriff’s department have a clue when number two might show up?” I asked, even though I knew it was a long shot that I’d get any info out of the man.
Kevin shook his head. “You two will have to go to the station and give a statement.”
“Can we drive ourselves so we don’t have to leave the Hummer here?” Fab asked.
“That’s not the way it works. You’ll need to leave the car and go with us to the station.”
“How about letting us call our lawyer?” I asked.
“Make it snappy. And remember this bonding moment when I want something.” Kevin smirked.
I raised my eyebrows at Fab. Tank was more her friend, although he would take my calls.
She slid her phone out of her pocket and made the call. When he answered, she got to the point. “Need you to come to the police station.” Then she told him what had happened. To whatever he said, she answered, “Got it.” After hanging up, she said to me, “He’s going to put his pants on and meet us.”
“T. M. I.”
“He probably wasn’t—”
“Stop,” I cut her off. I was about to call out to Kevin when I saw that he’d walked over to meet the coroner, who’d just arrived. The fifty-something got out of his van and waved to Kevin. The two talked and then made their way around to the backyard.
Cop Two roped off the front of the property with crime scene tape. No clue where Number One disappeared to.
“What a gruesome job.” I shivered. Since it appeared we would have a little time before being carted off, I called Creole, and it went to voicemail. “Did you call Didier?” I asked Fab.
“I flipped a coin, and both sides said, ‘Madison can take care of it.’ I guess I forgot to tell you. Oops.”
Next call, the office, where I found out the guys were in a meeting. “I’ll let you be the bearer of the news,” I told Lark, and then detailed the events.
“They’re not going to be happy.” Lark’s pout could be heard through the phone.
“Tell the guys that once we’re released, we’ll bum a ride off Tank, our lawyer—” I couldn’t remember if she’d met him yet. “—and come straight to the office.”
“If your plans go south, give me a jingle, and I’ll pick you up,” Lark offered.
“Gotta go. Kevin’s stomping in our direction,” I said and hung up.
“Ready, ladies?” Kevin opened his car door. “You two haven’t been guests in a while, but the place looks the same.” He grinned.
Fab and I looked at one another and shared the same thought: Cop humor and not funny. Neither of us said a word as Kevin drove to the station.
Once we arrived, we were taken into a private room one at a time and asked questions, then signed a copy of our statement, all under the watchful eye of Tank, professionally known as Patrick Cannon.
A few hours later, Fab and I walked out of the building to freedom. Our husbands were waiting in the parking lot and jumped out of the truck when we appeared. Fab walked straight into Didier’s arms and buried her face in his chest, and he helped her into the back seat of Creole’s monster pickup truck. Creole wrapped his arms around me and lifted me into the front seat.
“I’m betting Fab has pictures,” I said, knowing everyone could hear.
Fab made a muffled noise, which Creole decided was affirmative. She pulled out her phone and made a call. It wasn’t hard to figure out she was talking to Gunz, updating him on his investment opportunity. She ended with, “If you learn anything, please call.”
“I’m betting the price on that property just went down,” I said. “The bank that owns it isn’t going to want to deal with dead-body cleanup.”
Creole had just turned onto the main highway when a loud explosion rocked the ground, and our heads all turned in the same direction. Flames leapt into the air off in the near distance. “What the…” He slowed and hung his head over the steering wheel, then pointed to the west. “What’s over there?”
“Residential, some commercial, could be anything,” I said.
Fab knocked him on the shoulder. “Check it out.”
That didn’t surprise me, since she’d have already been chasing the plumes of black smoke. What surprised me was that Creole made a sharp turn off the highway. Fab called out a couple of questionable turns, shortcuts that at first glance appeared to be dead ends, and Creole didn’t balk, maneuvering the streets to where we needed to be.
He rolled past the blaze seconds ahead of the fire truck and parked far enough away that we wouldn’t block arriving law enforcement.
Fab stuck her head out the window. “No more mini tacos for us,” she lamented.
“No…” I leaned forward and looked over Creole’s shoulder at the burning roach coach. The converted Airstream had been burned to a crisp. “I hope no one got hurt.”
Fab and I liked eating here. Besides the good food, there was a small water view on the miniscule strip of land. Only drawback—no bar.
Creole had his head out the window, surveying the damage. The firefighters went to work and doused the last of the flames in short order.
Two cop cars pulled up.
“Good thing there were no cars in the parking lot.” Fab cocked her head from side to side. “They must have been closed, or there might have been casualties.”
Everyone we knew ate at the family-run truck, which had been around forever. Mini tacos were a favorite of Fab’s and mine, and we always enjoyed them at one of the picnic tables overlooking the slice of water.
“Time to get out of here.” Creole pulled away from the curb. “Before a cop walks up and starts asking questions. Our luck, it’ll be Kevin, and I think you’ve seen enough of him today. Besides, it would be hard to explain how you ended up at two crime scenes in the same day.”
I cast a glance at Fab. “Would that be a record for us?”
Fab shook her head in disgust. “Maybe.”
Chapter Eight
The next morning, Creole and I were sitting out on the deck, drinking coffee and watching the sideshow of Fab and Didier prowling their patio from one end to the other. Fab stopped every few feet to stomp her foot, which brought smiles to Didier’s face, along with a couple of laughs.
“What are they doing?” I asked.
“Fab’s planning another update to the already tricked-out security system. She’s having cameras installed on the beachside exterior of all the houses and the dock, in case someone gets the idea to dump another body.” Creole made a face. “But… mean old Didier vetoed the ‘no trespassing or you’ll be shot’ sign that she planned to hang on one of the dock posts to warn anyone cruising by in a boat.”
“Didier agreed with you, but wifey didn’t care for the shortened version.”
We continued to watch the entertaining twosome. Fab snuck up behind Didier, who probably thought he was safe with his back turned, and with a running start, pushed him into the water. His dark head surfaced to her laughing face. He splashed her, soaking her pants with water, and whatever he said, she laughed again, then turned and bolted back toward the house.
Didier swam to shore and stalked up the sand.
“Something tells me that Fab is in big trouble, and she’ll love every minute of retribution.” I laughed. Just then, my phone rang. I picked it up off the table, showing Creole the screen, then answered and hit the speaker button. “It’s early for you to be calling. Another goat?”
Mac snorted. “Thankfully, no. I lucked out the other day. Cootie came home, the two old goats sized each other up, and it was instant simpatico.”
Fab and I had met Cootie Shine out in the mangroves. Thankfully, he gave us a lift back to civilization, or it’s possible we’d still be out there. When he was evicted for poaching, I hired him and his almost-wife, Gertrude Banner, to manage the apartment building I owned next to The Cottages. Since Cootie could fix anything, the guys availed themselves of his handyman services at the Boardwalk, and they kept him busy.
“All I know is that Goat got away from me, and catching him was near impossible since he was busy running the neighborhood. Then Cootie whistles and Goat comes running. Couldn’t hear what the old goat said to the young one, but Cootie got his leg humped, and after that bonding moment, Goat followed the man to his truck. As soon as he had the door open, the damn thing hopped in. So relieved to wave the two off to greener pastures. Happy ending.” Mac unleashed a melodramatic sigh.
Creole covered his mouth and laughed.
“Have I told you lately how much I appreciate that you badgered me for a job and I had the foresight to hire you?”
“That’s because when I showed up, you’d had enough and were entirely over herding drunks, not to mention the criminals that were living here at the time.” Mac chuckled. “The good old days. If you were truthful, you’d admit that I was the first normal one to come in off the street and you scooped me right up.”