Psycho in Paradise Read online

  “Thanks for including me in yesterday’s adventure. Never a dull moment with Fab.”

  Fab had called the night before to let me know that she and Didier were out on Caspian’s island and not to worry.

  “It keeps me from getting in trouble.” I mimicked his frown. “You know, the kind where you only half believe me and then remind yourself that I don’t lie to you. Mostly anyway.”

  “Mostly.” He nipped my neck.

  “Who’s ever one hundred percent?” I flashed a teasing smile.

  Creole’s phone dinged with a message alert. He reached over and grabbed the phone off the bedside table. “You up to having dinner with Fab and Didier?”

  * * *

  From the start, it had been established that whoever extended the invitation got to pick the restaurant. It surprised both Creole and I when Didier chose a restaurant in Marathon that was nestled around a marina, boasting of fresh catches by local fisherman, since both of us assumed we’d be staying local.

  Entering the open-air restaurant, the first thing that caught our attention was the view of Florida Bay and the Gulf of Mexico. A cool breeze rippled off the open water through the wide-open space. Creole spotted the couple at a table on the deck that overlooked the water’s edge and stopped the server who’d just left the table to add a margarita and a beer to the drink order.

  Fab and Didier were smiling at one another, holding hands. Maybe he wasn’t the last to know that Fab’s father had moved to the Keys.

  As we sat down, a man showed up at the table, introducing himself as the owner, and bent over Fab’s hand, kissing it. He announced that the chef had prepared a special menu at the request of Caspian, who’d spoken to the man directly, and with a wave of his hands, our drinks were set in front of us.

  “When Caspian heard that we were meeting the lovely Madison for dinner, he recommended this restaurant, promising first-class service,” Didier said.

  “This is fun,” I said. “Can’t beat this view. I’ll have to tell Mother; she’d love it here.”

  Creole raised his glass. “To family.”

  “We spent the night out on the island.” Fab shared a secret smile with Didier. “So beautiful—you would love it—and the views are amazing and endless. Didier and I talked about spending the day lazing around, but we both had to get back to work.”

  “Will we be meeting your mother?” I asked.

  “That’s a long story.” Fab sighed. “Caspian…” She half-laughed. “He hates it when I call him that. He prefers Papa, and my telling him I’m too old to call him that gets me a stern look.” Didier squeezed her shoulder. “Caspian is my biological father. Shortly after I was born, my parents divorced, and one day when I was snooping through private papers—even at a young age, I didn’t mind my own business—I found my original birth certificate, naming Caspian Dumont and not the man I thought of as my father. I confronted Mother, and she informed me that Caspian was dead. I’m not sure why I didn’t believe her. I tried asking questions, but Mother shut me down and told me to be happy that I had two parents who loved me. After all, a name on a birth certificate does not make a father and I was a lucky girl.”

  “You tracked him down, didn’t you?” Feeling sad for her, I managed a smile.

  Didier hugged her tighter, and from the naked adoration on his face, this wasn’t the first he was hearing the story.

  “Overly inquisitive, the nuns used to say.” Fab squeezed Didier’s hand. “Then they would add, ‘Nothing good will come from your bad habit of snooping.’ I’m certain they congratulated themselves, thinking they broke me of the habit, because over time, I stopped getting into trouble. What I did was hone my skills, got sneakier, craftier. I made a promise to myself as a pre-teen that I’d find out everything there was to know about my father.”

  A server cleared the center of the table, and another set down plates in front of us. A third delivered a platter of appetizers that looked mouth-watering and came close to taking up the entire table. The first one came back with a tray of drink refills.

  “Smells so yummy.” I eyed the shrimp, which was my favorite, and was happy that the squid and octopus—foods that Fab and Didier savored—were on the opposite end. Thankfully, the octopus’s head was turned away so it wasn’t looking at me. “If there’s a main course coming, I hope they have doggie bags.”

  Fab snorted. “You mean to-go containers.”

  “Call it what you want as long as I don’t have to stuff the food in my pockets.” I took a bite of shrimp and almost sighed at how delicious the stuffing tasted.

  “I never ate leftovers before I met you,” Didier said, amusement in his eyes. “Now I’m hooked.”

  “Back to Fab’s story,” I said. “When did you find out Caspian was alive?”

  “High school.” There was a sadness in Fab’s eyes that she blinked away. “Finding out spun my sheltered life around, and I morphed into a wild child. Before, I’d managed to maintain my good girl image despite always pushing the rules; after, I gave up the pretense. To this day, my parents don’t know what brought about the change.” She downed her martini and held it up for a refill. “I couldn’t wait to go to college. Freedom at last.”

  “How did you orchestrate your meeting with Caspian?” Creole asked.

  “I hired my first information specialist to find Caspian, paying an exorbitant amount of cash. He found out that Caspian would be attending a film festival in Greece and hosting a party aboard his yacht.”

  “Let me guess,” I said and smiled impishly at her. “Sans invitation—I mean, who needs one of those?—you wiggled on board, right under the eyes of watchful security guards that didn’t have their eyes where they ought to.”

  “I had an invitation.” At my raised eyebrow, she said, “One of the women found that hers had gone missing and made a scene. They escorted her away, and I snuck on board.” She wiped a non-existent tear away with an unrepentant smile. “I made myself comfortable on the couch in his locked office and dozed off. Woke up when the door opened and slammed shut. He had his lips all over a young thing and was about to have his way with her on his desk, having shoved everything on the floor, when I cleared my throat, practically having to yell, and interrupted the tryst.”

  Creole choked out a laugh. “That was embarrassing. Once your papa got his clothes back on, then what happened?”

  “You’re so rude. It’s not like he had his clothes off… although he did dispose of his shirt in record time.” Fab blushed. “He pulled down the woman’s skirt and sent her on her way, which she didn’t take well. The door had barely closed when he crossed the room and pulled me into a crushing hug. No introductions necessary. We started talking and have stayed in touch ever since.”

  I looked down and chuckled, not able to imagine a more uncomfortable scene… unless… maybe I could, but I wisely didn’t voice my thoughts.

  The appetizer platter was whisked away and replaced by another, full of various grilled fishes and vegetables.

  “Is there dessert?” I asked, trying not to groan.

  “The chef’s desserts are award-winning.” The server smiled.

  Creole leaned over and whispered, “Just take little bites and save the rest for breakfast.”

  I took Creole’s suggestion and so did Fab, taking extra-small servings of everything.

  “Caspian told her later that he wanted to hug and throttle her at the same time.” Didier laughed.

  “I’m sure he’s had those feelings again since,” Creole said.

  “It’s not like I planned to barge in on an intimate moment. I can’t tell you how many times I rehearsed my introduction. Never pictured it the way it happened.” Fab grimaced. “Caspian recognizing me instantly was the best feeling. The next was finding out that he’d kept track of my daily activities, grades… He claimed to know before Mother—and I believe him—that instead of signing up for ballet classes, I’d signed up for fencing.” Fab shook her head as though throwing off an unpleasant memory. “
Mother confronted me. It started out, ‘How dare you…’ and the lecture about unladylike behavior came next. My punishment was missing the last two classes and not being allowed to participate in the exhibition.” She made a Z with her pretend sword.

  “Do your other parents know that you found Caspian?” I asked.

  “They have no idea,” Fab said. “I didn’t want to hurt them because I knew it would change our relationship, and in all honesty, it already had, the day I discovered Caspian was alive and I’d been lied to.”

  “You’re such a part of the Westin family, and yet, I know so little about your family. I haven’t wanted to pry.”

  “Secrets divide a family, and it was just easier not to think about it. It’s not like they live in the next neighborhood over.” Fab tipped her glass at me.

  “Ideally, I’d like for you not to be estranged from your family. But I’ve never regretted you barreling into my life and taking over.”

  “I’d have come clean with them now…” Fab smiled at Didier and brushed his hair back. “You’re such a good influence. But Caspian still has feelings for Mother and doesn’t want her hurt, so we’ve kept our relationship a secret. He also fears a ‘him or them’ choice and doesn’t want to cause me that kind of pain. I discussed it with Didier and, with his support, decided to wait until the time is right. And if that never happens, that’s fine, too.”

  The waiter came back to the table, clearing away dishes. When he picked up the platter, Didier said, “Would you pack up the extra food?” He cocked his head and winked at me. Another platter replaced the old one, along with more plates.

  A man at the next table let out an ear-splitting belch. Several heads turned his way, and once people recovered from the shock, they laughed.

  “Can I do that?” I asked innocently.

  Fab’s horrified face rewarded me for that prank. “You do, and I’ll tell Madeline.”

  Creole and Didier laughed.

  “How do you get along with your prospective father-in-law?” Creole asked Didier.

  “Caspian and I hit it off immediately. We have real estate development in common, and I’ve enjoyed our talks and appreciate his perspective.”

  “They get along great.” Fab leaned over and kissed Didier’s cheek. “They’ve developed their own friendship, in which I think they trade ideas on how to keep me in line.”

  Creole roared with laughter. “How’s that working out?”

  Didier shot him a dirty look. “As you well know, some days aren’t as frustrating as others.” He winked at Fab.

  “When did you meet Caspian?” I asked Didier. If it was too nosey, he could tell me. It wasn’t yesterday, so when?

  “We met shortly after Fab moved me into her life.” Didier pulled Fab close, kissing the top of her head. “I had just finished up a business meeting at a restaurant in South Beach and was about to leave when Caspian approached with three bodyguards and wanted to talk. Make sure I was good enough to even look at his daughter.”

  “You must have passed muster, since you’re sitting here,” I half-joked.

  “We parted on friendly terms with a warning not to get her into any kind of trouble. I laughed it off as him being a protective father, with no clue as to the adventure my life was about to become.”

  “Adventure. That’s one word for it,” Creole said. “A lesser man never would’ve survived.”

  Slightly embarrassed that I still had a hundred questions, I figured a couple more wouldn’t hurt. I’d save the rest to grill Fab another day. “How long has Caspian been living here?”

  “Normally, he flies in for a day or two, and then he’s off—always another meeting that demands his attention. When I told him that Didier asked me to marry him and I said yes, he briefly mentioned buying a Florida getaway, and the next thing I hear is that he inked the deal for Caspian Island. It’s hard to pass up a good deal, he said. I’d been adamant that Didier and I were not moving back to France.”

  Creole whistled. “Nice, naming an island after yourself.”

  There was no doubt that there were things I hadn’t known about my friend, and I wondered how much more would come out.

  The waiter appeared and waited patiently for our attention. “Another drink? Coffee with dessert?”

  I groaned. “I have room for mine in my purse.”

  The waiter laughed. “It’s a platter of assorted delicacies.”

  “A whole platter?” I asked in awe. “So mean of you not to warn us—we could’ve started with the delicacies first.”

  “Ignore her,” Fab said with a shake of her head. “We’ll take the largest dessert and four spoons. And the rest we’ll take with us. All of us have a sweet tooth.”

  “Want to go for a midnight run?” Creole said to Didier.

  “Let’s run it off in the morning.”

  One more question nagged at me. “How did Caspian know that you were driving the SUV?”

  “How many black Hummers are there in the Keys?”

  Would there come a day when I knew as much about Caspian as I’d bet he knew about me? I couldn’t imagine a sit-down of questions and answers. My guess was it would be tough to get any information that he didn’t want you to know out of him. A lot like his daughter.

  “We should throw a party,” I said. “Welcome Caspian to the Keys. Maybe we can catch everyone on a night that they’ll be on their best behavior.”

  “Love that idea. Caspian leaves tomorrow on business. I’ll pin him down on a date when he plans to be back in the Keys.”

  Chapter Ten

  A typical morning. Fab and Didier had left for the office early, both having appointments. Fab breezed past me, not sharing a single detail. I was kissing Creole, who had one foot out the door, when my phone started ringing. I raced back through the kitchen to snatch it up off the island.

  “It’s Jake’s.” I held it up so he could see the screen.

  Creole leaned against the doorframe with a “hmpf.”

  “There’s been an incident,” Kelpie whispered hoarsely. “The cops are here.”

  “I’ll be right there.” I hung up and raced back into the entry, grabbed my bag and reached inside to grab my thigh holster. All Fab’s admonitions not to leave home without protection had sunk in.

  Creole’s eyes narrowed as he watched me strap on my gun. “I’m coming. You can give me the details in the truck.”

  “Incident is all I know.”

  He grabbed my hand, and we ran down the driveway.

  Creole managed to get us to Jake’s in record time without scaring me. When he turned into the driveway of the tiki-style bar with its thatched roof and palm trees, there were three cop cars and two ambulances parked in front. He veered around to the back and found space next to the kitchen door.

  I owned the entire block, which included Fab’s lighthouse, which had mysteriously shown up in the middle of the night and was now used as office space by one of her dubious friends. Junker’s, an antique garden store, sat on the opposite side of the lighthouse, and Twinkie Princesses, a roach coach, sat facing the curb, advertising that they’d fry anything… if they were ever open. What they all had in common was that their rent checks were on time and the cops never showed up.

  Before getting out, Creole turned my face to his. “Law enforcement is here, so try to refrain from waving your gun around. I’m sure they have everything under control.”

  “You just suck the fun out of everything.” I drew an imaginary gun and blew on the muzzle.

  He brushed my lips with a kiss. “People think you’re so normal.”

  “In comparison to whom?” I laughed. “Fab? I win hands down. Girlfriend is going to be sorry she missed the police drama. I’ll try to grab a picture or two.”

  Creole got out and went around to help me out. The kitchen door stood open. I poked my head around Creole, and for the first time since I took over sole ownership of the place, Cook was nowhere to be seen. Come to think of it, his truck hadn’t been parked outside
.

  It was a straight shot down the hall to the bar, and it was empty. Voices could be heard from the interior. A uniformed officer stepped into view, his back to us.

  “Kevo,” I called out.

  He glanced over his shoulder, turned, and met us at the bar. “That’s Deputy Kevin Cory to you.” He smiled slightly, his irritation lessening. “Don’t come any farther.” He held up his hand.

  We halted at the far end, which gave us a vantage point where we could see everything going on inside the bar and out on the deck.

  My manager—Doodad, aka Charles Wingate III—sat, a tad lopsided, at a table next to the jukebox, a paramedic tending to his head.

  Kelpie, our newest kick-butt bartender, sat sprawled in a chair on the opposite side of the miniscule dance floor, legs spread indecently (thank goodness for tights), arms crossed, her usually happy face radiating anger. She’d been dipping into the dye bottles again, and her naturally blond hair was lit up like a rainbow.

  Two stretchers rolled out the door, each with a person strapped on—a man on one, a woman on the other—and after a quick glance, I was certain I’d never seen either of them before.

  “What happened?” Creole asked Kevin.

  It was my lucky day. Creole and I had gotten a slow start to the morning, which meant that he was still home when the call came in. His being a retired detective afforded him a different level of respect that meant Kevin would answer his questions. Me, he’d blow off or half-ass it at best.

  “Those two…” Kevin pointed to the stretchers. “Husband and wife thieves. They overstayed their welcome last night. Instead of leaving at closing, they hid out, planning to rob the place. When all attempts to get the safe open with a hammer failed, they decided to have a sleepover and hold up the first employee who arrived. That lucky person was Doodad.”

  “I take it Doodad took them on, hence the bandage on his forehead.” I had watched as the paramedic worked on him, and he appeared to grumble the whole time.

  “The man’s a pain in the behind,” Kevin grouched. “He’s refusing to go to the hospital and get checked out. Instead, he’s whining like a kid. Too bad it’s illegal to gag him.”