Lottery in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 11) Read online

  “I drew the short straw again.” Kevin banged open the gate. “Get out of the way,” he said to Fab. He surveyed the area. “High five to Joseph; didn’t think he had it in him.”

  “Nothing to see here.” I pasted a phony smile on my face.

  “I disagree.” He waved his arm around. “Public indecency and engaging in sexual activity in public are illegal.”

  “They’re perfectly covered,” I snapped.

  “I bet that only happened after you got here. The neighbor that called in gave a pretty detailed report about the drunken debauchery that went on.”

  “You’re going to pile all that nakedness in the back of your car and drive them through town, hoping they don’t pee on themselves or worse?” I said with an unmistakable challenge in my words.

  Fab’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. I bit back a laugh, knowing that later I’d have to endure a lecture on the use of the word “pee.” I’d have to ask what word a well-bred woman such as herself would use. My guess: in her world, it would never come up.

  “Looks like you got things covered.” Kevin laughed at his own joke. He walked over to Crum’s chaise and kicked his foot.

  Crum rolled over. “That hurt.” He glared at Kevin and shook his foot.

  “You’ve got five minutes to get your hairy ass and your ‘friends’ dressed and off the property or you’re all going to jail. You, for sure.” Kevin’s eyes narrowed, skimming the pool area once more.

  Crum grumbled under his breath and stood up, clutching his towel. As he passed Mac, he slowed and whispered something that made her smile, then continued behind the tiki bar, reaching down.

  “Couldn’t let anyone steal our duds.” He tossed a black garbage bag over the bar top.

  “Are you sick?” Fab asked Kevin. “Just asking. You love to arrest people, and you’re letting an opportunity slide by.”

  “There’s always you.” He took a step in her direction.

  She laughed. “I have it on good authority that your hands have been cuffed; you have to have an airtight case to arrest me or Madison.”

  “Sooner or later.” He wagged his finger.

  Crum’s friend woke up on the crabby side of the chaise and unleashed a naughty tirade about being disturbed, which roused the other three.

  Joseph spotted Kevin and pulled the sheet over his head.

  Mac joined Fab and me. “Let’s go to the office.”

  I turned to Crum and said, “This whole unseemly episode smacks of you. When you get rid of your friends, you and Joseph come to the office.”

  I detoured over to Miss January, who sat on her front porch, newspaper in hand. It surprised me that a woman who passed out every day from drinking stayed up on current events. Stick thin and wild-haired, she was slumped down in her chair in a buttoned cotton robe.

  “Honey,” she slurred, her glassy eyes meeting mine. From the other side of her chair, she produced a thermos filled with vodka, the only liquid that passed her lips. Her liquor delivery had arrived early.

  Her butt was about to slide off the seat, and I hurried up the stairs and reached out to grab hold of her arm. “Let me help you.”

  “I’ve got it.” She grabbed the armrests and bucked back against the seat, maneuvering herself somewhat upright.

  “What’s in the news?” I bent down to pick up the newspaper, which turned out to be only the center sheet.

  “Ollie Badger died. He was an old fart. There were a couple of others, but I didn’t recognize their names. I like to keep up on who dies and my horoscope,” she said in a serious tone.

  Unsure of what to say, I handed back her reading material. “You need anything, yell.”

  The driveway was deserted as I crossed to the office. I barely got the door closed when it opened again. I turned and bit back a groan at the sight of Kevin filling the doorway. “That was fast.” I claimed the chair on the far side of Mac’s desk, wiggling to get comfortable. Fab was sacked out on the couch, her eyes closed, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t listening to every word.

  “Rumor has it that Crum is running a sex business out of his cottage.” Kevin smirked, enjoying imparting that morsel. “As long as he’s not engaged in prostitution or indecent exposure, it’s probably not illegal. But even if it’s legal, he still needs a business license.” He pointed to the snack bowl. “I’ll take the chocolate chip cookies.” He held out his hands to catch.

  Mac sent them sailing.

  “Anything else?” I snipped.

  “I thought we were working on becoming friends,” Kevin managed to say with a straight face.

  A loud snort came from the couch.

  “Fabiana, so unladylike,” I said, mimicking Mother’s voice.

  “Hey, Deputy Dog,” Crum’s voice came from behind Kevin. “Can you move your…” He paused. “…out of the way?”

  Kevin turned, and I couldn’t see what transpired from my vantage point, but Crum stepped back. Kevin took the only available chair, which was next to me, pushed it back, and stretched out his legs. “I’m not missing this.”

  “We’re here, as ordered,” Crum said, swinging out his arm and almost hitting Joseph, who leaned against the jamb.

  Joseph never looked the picture of health, but today, his skin tone was grey and pasty and made him look closer to the death his doctor had been predicting. I tended to forget that I had two terminal tenants, as they kicked along, doing what they damn well pleased, which included all the things that weren’t good for them.

  “What’s wrong with him?” I asked Crum after Joseph groaned.

  “Belly ache.” Joseph clutched his abdomen.

  “If you’re going to get sick, go home. At least keep it out of the bushes. That’s what the sidewalks are for.” I jabbed my finger at Crum. “If he does get sick, you’re hosing it away.”

  “That damn horny goat weed,” Joseph moaned.

  I squinted, taking a breath, not wanting to ask questions.

  Fab rolled to her side, staring him down. “What’s that?”

  Crum cleared his throat and stared down at his mismatched tennis shoes, toeing the laces he hadn’t bothered to tie.

  Mac, an obsessive gum chewer, blew a large bubble and pricked it with her fingernail. “It’s an herbal stimulant that you get at the gas station,” she said, cleaning the pink mess off the lower part of her face.

  “What the hell happened to you?” I asked Crum. “How do you go from being an esteemed college professor to a… what? What are you doing? Don’t give me that innocent look; I’ve got it on good authority that this man-whore idea is your brainchild.”

  “Whores? Hardly.” He raised his eyes; instead of focusing on one person, they shifted around the room. “I’m providing a service to us older gentleman to facilitate our meeting fun women.”

  “What are you charging?” Kevin asked over the sound of Joseph getting sick in the bushes.

  I interrupted before Crum could answer and get in more trouble. “Go help Joseph back to his cottage and then come back and clean up the mess; get rid of the smell before it kills my plants and creeps into this office.”

  Crum nodded and stepped backwards.

  “Hold it,” I said. “New rules: All nakedness goes on inside your cottage. Keep the shutters closed. Refund Joseph’s money. Unless you have the necessary licensing, your entrepreneurial spirit could be considered illegal and land you in jail. Keep in mind that we have one member of law enforcement living here.”

  “I thought he was moving,” Crum grumbled, lacking the nerve to make eye contact with Kevin.

  “Here’s your opportunity to ask him his move-out date,” I said. “He keeps promising, and yet here he is.”

  “You’re family,” Kevin said with a straight face.

  Fab belly-laughed.

  “Well, sort of, maybe not.” He glared at Fab. “I’ll take a Coke,” he said to Mac. “The place has grown on me. Go ahead, evict me. Once word gets around the station, Mac and Shirl will stop getting inside informat
ion.”

  Mac frowned at Kevin, ignoring his soda request; she crossed her arms across her ample bosom, middle finger sticking up over her arm.

  “Joseph’s done.” Crum backed over the threshold. “I’ll be back and take care of everything.” He slammed the door.

  “It probably smells out there.” Fab pinched her nose.

  “This has been fun, but I’ll take another bag of cookies and the drink I requested and leave.” Kevin held out his hand to Mac. She turned in her chair, getting a bag out of the bottom file drawer, and threw it over her shoulder, then handed him a can from the refrigerator.

  “Let’s do this again.” Fab waved. “Next year would be good.”

  Kevin waved over his shoulder, banging the door.

  “The first person to break the glass buys a whole new door,” I yelled. One of the many things I’d done to put my stamp on the property was replace the solid wood door with a glass French door. It made the room feel bigger, and the addition of shutter blinds had a dual use: spying and keeping out unwanted stares.

  “Do you think you can keep the guests from running naked?” I asked Mac.

  “If I’d only known what was going on last night, I could’ve made some cash on the side, renting fold-up chairs to peepers.”

  Chapter Twelve

  This was getting old!

  Morning coffee by myself. The house had been eerily quiet of late, and I hated the solitude. An hour was enough alone time, days of it… too much.

  No Didier and again no Fab. Last night after we got home, Fab waited until I was in the shower, then left a note that she had a date and would see me tomorrow.

  “Date.” I snorted, betting it was excuse.

  Once again, she’d driven off in the SUV, even though her Porsche sat in the driveway; it still hadn’t been on its maiden drive. If Fab was going to continue taking my car, I needed to get a key made for the Porsche. I immediately winced at the thought of getting even the smallest scratch on the car.

  Fab’s breaking up with Didier affected the entire family. When Fab was around, she moped; most of the time, she just snuck off, leaving behind a note void of details. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was packing herself off to a hotel so she could brood without people fussing over her. Mother did lecture her on safety, but Fab only laughed at her.

  The first meow came from between my feet, where Snow sat waiting for tuna; behind her, Jazz entered the kitchen howling. It took a minute for me to satisfy them both. I’d had hopes that Snow’s good manners would rub off on Jazz, but that hadn’t happened; instead, Jazz spent his time trying to turn his girlfriend into a hoodlum. So far, she’d resisted his attempts.

  I rested my cheek on the island counter, thinking about my day; nothing couldn’t be shifted to tomorrow. Before coming downstairs, I’d put on a red tankini, and my original plan to go out to the pool still sounded like a good idea.

  “Ahem.”

  My head flew up. Two men stood inside the French patio doors. I didn’t recognize either man. They were opposite in looks, dressed in wrinkled shorts and shirts reminiscent of beach riff-raff. The pair attempted a casual air and failed; the menace in their eyes spoke loud and clear that they were up to no good. I cast a glance sideways, wanting to reach into the junk drawer for my trusty Beretta, but on second thought, it seemed like a bad idea; not enough time. One had a distinctive bulge under his left arm, and I didn’t want to initiate a contest of who could draw and shoot faster.

  “I prefer that my guests ring the front door bell,” I said, trying to affect a calm I didn’t feel.

  The dark-haired one, who appeared to be the ringleader, flicked his eyes across my chest and back to my face; his tongue slithered out and then disappeared. “We won’t be here long. We’re here to collect the money you owe for a job well done.” He nudged his friend, and they laughed.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t play stupid. This visit is a friendly reminder. If you haven’t got the cash together…” The man tsked. “We’ll allow you one more day. But if we have to come back…” He paused and made eye contact with his friend, then turned back. “Let’s just say it will be painful. Have you ever stopped to wonder how many bones you can break before you pass out or die? If you pay up, you’ll never have to find out.”

  The front door opened, and Fab stuck her head into the kitchen; she was disheveled, not her usual put-together self.

  “Easy, boys,” I said as the ponytailed blond sidekick reached behind his back. Flicking my gaze briefly in Fab’s direction, I asked her, “Do you owe these nice men money? What was the amount again?”

  Fab pulled her Walther from her waistband; shielding it to one side of her leg, she crossed to stand next to me. Always prepared, that girl.

  So much for friendly. The blond drew his gun. But not before Fab had hers pointed at his head. “Drop it,” she said calmly. “Now.”

  “You’re making a big mistake.” He inclined his head towards Fab. “It’s not like we tied up your friend and she’s missing her fingers.”

  I clenched my hands, grimacing at the gruesome thought.

  “You screwed our boss—” The blond leaned in. “—and there will be no easy ticket to the afterlife for you. Such as one well-placed bullet.”

  “I don’t owe you a dime,” I said. His dark smile didn’t go unnoticed, nor did the calculating gleam in his eyes. “I’d introduce you, but this is the first time I’ve had the honor of your presence.” I tugged on a strand of Fab’s hair. “What about you?”

  Fab shook her head. “Can I shoot him and his little friend?”

  I almost laughed and inquired which friend, then decided it was the blond-haired partner, since he was a good foot shorter.

  “The law is on my side,” Fab continued. “Trespassing, breaking and entering, being a general ass—”

  “I’ll call the police,” I cut in.

  “Don’t you know who you did business with? Do either of us look like that person?” Fab asked. “Here’s a business tip: next time, get your money up front.”

  The blond snapped, demonstrating a surlier attitude than his friend. “We’re collectors. Just doing our job.”

  While sliding my phone across the counter, I put my hand into the junk drawer, withdrawing my Beretta. I waved the gun around, enjoying the narrow-eyed response I got from the two men in return. “You’re lucky I’m the reasonable one. I’d prefer she not shoot you, but only because blood is so messy to clean up. The police can deal with you and impress upon you never to come back here without an invite, which you’ll never get.”

  I hit speed dial.

  Creole answered the phone. “Hey babe, thinking about you.”

  “I’d like report two intruders. They came with guns, attempting to extort money, and wouldn’t answer the ‘who the heck are you?’ question.”

  “Cops are on their way. Call you back.” He disconnected.

  “Don’t move,” I instructed, leveling my gun. “Law enforcement just got invited to the party.”

  The dark-haired one leaned down to whisper to his sidekick.

  “None of that,” Fab barked.

  They turned and ran out the door, heading down the path.

  A shot rang out.

  One man uttering the F-word was confirmation that Fab’s bullet hit him or came close.

  I jerked on Fab’s arm. “If the sheriff’s deputies got the call, with our luck that means Kevin, and shooting a lowlife in the back will at the very least get you hauled in.”

  “I plugged his ass while he was still in the house.”

  “Go out the front and get a license number. Or a description of their bicycle.” I laughed, which released some adrenaline. “I’ll kick their gun under the chair and let the cops take custody. It will also strengthen our defense that we were scared and helpless.”

  That got a smile out of Fab. She flew to the door, letting it slam behind her.

  My phone rang again. “That was quic
k.”

  “Help’s on the way,” Creole said.

  “I thought you were sending real law enforcement.”

  Creole snorted. “Wait until I tell him you impugned his character; he won’t respond next time.”

  “He’s not that thin-skinned.”

  Help was Creole’s undercover partner. The name was an aka that Fab and I had assigned him upon meeting the scruffy, jean-clad man. He typically used what I suspected was another alias, Stephen something, and claimed to be an insurance salesman.

  “I forgot to tell you to have Fab shoot if one of them moves.”

  “Too late. They ran out the back, and who knows where. Fab gave one a parting gift – a plug to his backside on the way out the patio door. She’s trying to get a license number.”

  “You okay?”

  “Unnerved. Never seen them before. No clue what they were talking about, except that they wanted money. They apparently didn’t make the initial contact, as they didn’t know they had the wrong house and didn’t believe me when I tried to tell them.” I crossed to the sink and hung over it, peering out the garden window.

  Creole demanded that I go over the details one more time. After a pause, he asked, “How did they get in the gate?”

  “When Fab gets back, I’ll send her to check that out. I’ll hang over her shoulder.”

  “Where’s that damn detective?” Creole grouched.

  “Help just came face to face with Fab in the driveway; she looped her arm in his, and he doesn’t look happy.”

  “The man doesn’t know happy. He’s a surly sort but damn good at his job. Don’t skimp on the details. Help will track those two down; there’s no hiding from him. He’ll ferret them out, even if they take up residence in a mole hole. Before turning them over to Harder, we’ll have a little one-on-one chat. I’ll call the chief and tell him what happened.”

  Chief Harder was Creole and Help’s boss and a well-respected member of the Miami Police Department.

  “Do you want to talk to Help before I hang up on you?” I asked as I got to the door before the other two got there.