Lottery in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 11) Page 8

  “Put him on. I want to figure out why your house has become so popular of late.”

  I passed my phone to Help. “It’s for you.”

  He scowled, and I turned away slightly so he wouldn’t see me smile. Turning back, I motioned with my fingers. “Just hold it up to your ear and talk.” It took very little to annoy the man.

  Instead of a greeting, he grunted, then turned his back, headed for the patio, and made himself comfortable on a chair. He sat on the far side, where he had a view of the pool area, house, and exits.

  I raised an eyebrow at Fab.

  “I got three letters of the license plate, and the make and model.” She nodded towards the patio. “That man’s not normal.” She withdrew a notepad from the drawer and copied down the information.

  “Start by not asking questions you know he won’t answer.”

  Help didn’t stay on the phone long. Good thing, since it appeared to irritate him. He silently slipped back inside, laying my phone on the counter top, and headed to the front door.

  “Hold on,” Fab barked. “What’s next?”

  “I’m going to find your two extorters and find out what they want. I have enough information. Then I’ll be real hospitable and get them some free room and board.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Didier blew in like a gale-force wind, banging the door behind him. “Fab!” he bellowed.

  I had camped out in the living room, piling up the pillows on the daybed, where I could stake out both entrances, waiting to catch Fab sneaking back in after another so-called date. I’d about given up, but she couldn’t avoid me forever.

  “She’s not here,” I grumped over my laptop. “Do you want to leave a message?” My voice was laced with sarcastic sweetness. “You look like sh… like a dog dragged you around and then left you for better prey.”

  The narrowing of his icy blue eyes made him look impressively menacing. Undaunted, I held his gaze and returned a glare of my own.

  “I’d appreciate your not mentioning I stopped by.” He continued to stand there.

  “Don’t come into my house and ask for squat. Which means nothing, Mr. Proper. You’re a dick.” His eyebrows shooting to his hairline only spurred me on. “You break Fab’s heart, and for what? Now she’s acting really reckless. Satisfied? She’s not perfect and never was, you f…” I took a breath. “And you knew that from the beginning.”

  “Out of control is nothing new for her; she never thinks about the consequences. How many times has she skirted death?”

  “Fab’s a private investigator, which isn’t a news flash since you knew from the beginning. Not quite perfect enough for you when you met, and you thought you’d change her. Into what? A simp at your beck and call?” I struggled not to indulge in an all-out yell fest. “If anything happens to Fab, watch your back. I just might shoot you, in my grief and all.”

  His face was set in a stern expression, his mouth firm and unsmiling; he glanced at his watch. “I have to go.”

  “Next time, knock.”

  * * *

  The next night, I was prepared for Fab’s antics. She hadn’t gotten home until almost noon and then hid out in her bedroom, pleading her twenty-fifth headache. I waited until after the house was dark, then crept silently downstairs to wait for her to sneak out again. I didn’t have to wait long.

  “Where are you going in the middle of the night? Again!”

  Fab startled, grabbing the handrail. “You sure know how to scare a girl.”

  Even in the dim nightlight, I could see her lips pulled into a tight line as she stared down at me where I was stretched out on the daybed. I eyed her up and down; she was dressed in jeans and a sexy midriff top that showed her rock-hard abs. The tennis shoes told me she had a job.

  “You’re in luck.” I threw the blanket aside. “I just need to put on some shoes, and I’m ready to go with you.” Anticipating another night of sneaking around, I’d donned a pair of sweatpants and a cropped t-shirt that read Key West. There were two pairs of shoes to pick from under the table: flip-flops and sneakers. A sweatshirt stuck out of the top of my purse.

  “I just need some time to myself. I’m going for a drive.” Fab came down the stairs, standing on the bottom step.

  That mopey voice of hers grated on my ears. I needed to get with Mother and find out the details of her reunification plan.

  “I realize it’s rude of me to call you a liar, so why don’t you try again.”

  She crossed her arms and served up her mean stare, which I returned.

  “A better friend wouldn’t make it about themselves, but I’m tired of your sullen and moody self.” I cut off her attempt to speak with a wave of my hand. “Instead of sneaking out and doing what lost you the greatest boyfriend—”

  Fab held her throat and gagged.

  “—suck it up and get Didier back. He’s a mere man; he’ll fall at your feet again – just turn on the charm. You need someone to point out you’re miserable? Fine. I nominate myself. You are. This nonsense about dating other men isn’t going to mend your heart and turn you back into the snarky friend I adore.”

  “Too late,” she said forlornly. “Didier’s got a new girlfriend. A model.”

  I shook my head. Could there be two dumber people? I kept the sentiment to myself. “Like you? Although I suspect yours is complete fiction. You two – hooking up with people that you don’t give a damn about; it’s called rebounding.”

  “I’ve got to go.”

  “You wouldn’t want to keep your client waiting,” I said in disgust. “Can’t take the SUV,” I told her as I watched her bypass the entry bench and cross to the island, looking for the keys. “Your new Porsche would like its engine cranked.”

  The door opened as Fab reached for the knob, catching her off guard. Creole took one look at her and stepped back; she stomped past him.

  “My lucky night – you’re not going with her.” He leaned down and brushed my lips with his, scooping me into his arms.

  “I’ve missed you.” I clasped my arms around his neck as he carried me upstairs. “What are we going to do about Fab and Didier?”

  “We’re going to stay out of their love life and let them figure it out.”

  “They’re both already dating other unsuitable people. Or so they say.”

  “I tried, but Didier refuses to talk about it. Just said he’s tired of wondering if the next call he gets will be to inform him she’s dead.” He opened the bedroom door. “Call me selfish, but I came here with other things on my mind.” He set me on the floor and stripped off my clothes, flinging them in the direction of the chair. His followed.

  “You’re good at this.”

  Creole flexed his muscles. “That’s because I enjoy it.” He pulled the bed coverings off in one yank, laid me down, and got in next to me, pulling the sheet over us. “No more talk about those two. We’ve got other stuff to do that doesn’t require speech.” He leered.

  * * *

  The bed bounced under me. I opened my eyes one at a time, watching Creole put on his pants, his hips swaying side to side, so seductive, I blatantly stared.

  “You’re late. The sun is up.” I made a kissy noise.

  “It’s all your fault.” He leaned over and attacked my lips. “I’ve got two meetings this morning.”

  I leaned over the bed, eyeing him up and down, and looked back up. “Shoes optional?”

  “If I had my way, my desk would be on the beach. Behave.” He shook his finger. “What’s the number one rule?”

  “Call if anything happens, no matter how insignificant. You’ll decide if it’s important.” I smirked. “And your rule?”

  He laughed. “That’s an easy one. Don’t get hurt.”

  “Have a good day at the office. If I have to behave, then so do you.”

  “Love you.” He brushed his lips against mine.

  “Me too.” I wanted to smack his backside, but he twisted out of range with a laugh.

  As soon as I heard hi
s footsteps on the stairs, I reached for my phone and texted Spoon. “Coming over in a half hour. Be decent.” And scrambled into the shower. My plan was to sneak out without being confronted by Fab; that is, if she had come home.

  * * *

  The door opened before I could knock for a change. Spoon grinned at me. “It’s early. You in trouble?”

  I flashed a “who me?” look. “Just stopped by for coffee with Mother.”

  He crossed his arms and scowled. “You better not be getting my sweet wife into trouble. You two are up to something, and don’t bother to deny it.”

  “I didn’t know you drank in the morning.”

  He tapped my nose with his finger. “Don’t think I won’t tell on you.” He kissed my cheek. “Work calls. Tell my lovely wife I’ll be checking on her later.”

  Spoon owed JS Auto Body, down on the docks. He specialized in the repair of luxe autos and didn’t take customers off the street, appointment only.

  “If you think you’re going to control Mother, good luck with that.”

  “I’ve got my ways.” Sinister smile on his lips, he winked, and closed the door behind him.

  I walked down the hall towards the kitchen, where Mother turned from the counter and handed me a cup of coffee.

  “What were you two talking about?” Mother asked as she led the way to the patio. We sat side by side in chairs facing the water.

  The patio ran the length of the condo, and each of the bedrooms had access. In addition to the large wooden table off the living room, there was additional seating all along the patio. I’d been along on a couple of the shopping trips and encouraged comfortable furniture and plenty of pillows. Hard as I tried, I could only talk her into one string of lights, which ran along the railing. Spoon had added his touch; he’d hauled up several varieties of potted palm trees.

  “We have to be careful,” I said quietly, turning my head from side to side, checking for uninvited guests. “Your husband is as suspicious as Creole.”

  “It’s just the two of us here. We haven’t done anything. Yet.”

  “This plan of yours better be a good one; I’m ready for whatever you’ve got cooked up. I want my friend back. Didier stopped by, and he didn’t look all that great either, and I was rude to him.” I smiled sadly, putting my arm around Mother.

  “I don’t have all the details completely figured out.” At my groan, she continued. “So far, we lure them down to Spoon’s boat and lock them in the stateroom until they come to their senses.”

  “That’s kidnapping.” My inner voice was shouting, I told you this would be a bad idea. “And a felony.”

  “You got a plan?” Mother sniffed. “It’s not some hell hole. We’re talking king size bed, en-suite, and we’ll stock it with champagne and food.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, ticking off the ways this would blow up in our faces. Kidnapping Fab! Good luck to that. Yeesh! “What if something goes awry?”

  “Got that covered. We’ll take turns guarding them.”

  “This has ‘unhappy Creole and Spoon’ written all over it. Not to mention Fab and Didier when they get out and track us down. You know, when I get on Creole’s last nerve, he disappears for days and no… well, anything. It’s lonely.” I held out my mug. “I need more coffee.”

  “You’re the biggest prude in the family.” Mother leaned in. “It’s called sex. Spoon tried that tactic, and it backfired,” she said smugly and stood.

  I followed her into the kitchen, sliding onto a stool. “Mother, I love you, but I can’t hear about your sex life. See, I said it.”

  “Don’t worry about Fab and Didier; they’ll soon be back together and happy again,” Mother said with confidence. “You lure Fab, and I’ll take Didier. The gentleman in him won’t be able to say no to me.” She sighed. “Might not work in the future.”

  “Does the door to the stateroom lock from the outside? A regular lock isn’t going to hold Fab; she’ll have it open in half a second.”

  “Took care of that already. Got a new lock installed, and it will hold the lovers until they reunite.” Mother mumbled, “Hopefully before Spoon finds out.”

  Unsure what kind of lock she meant, I asked, “Where did you get these connections?” That would be one of Fab’s first questions; that is, if she was still speaking to me.

  “Really Madison, I called a regular locksmith.” She shook her head.

  I wasn’t sure whether to believe her or not. “Spoon will pry it out of you, and it might not be pretty.”

  “You let me take care of my husband.” She smiled. “I’ll offer up something he can’t refuse.”

  “I love that you’re both so happy. Let’s hope he doesn’t get too mad.” The guilt of her being unhappy would kill me. “Maybe we should take some time to hone this plan.”

  “Stop worrying. My husband isn’t a stick. He’s a man I depend on; he’d never let me down, and he feels the same about me. We had each other’s backs long before getting married. His unhappiness over my meddling will be short-lived. Fab and Didier will get back together, and we’ll all be happy.”

  I squeezed her in a bear hug, which she returned.

  “Don’t worry about me and Spooner. We have a lot of fun. A lot of laughter. He loves my children. Doesn’t get any better than that.” Mother beamed at me. “Look how happy you are. I wish my sister was here to see the two of you together. Elizabeth loved Creole and loved you, and she’d be ecstatic that you’re together.”

  “Back to the plan,” I said. Mother handed me back my coffee cup, and I forced myself not to gulp it down. “You lure Didier first. I’ll show up with Fab and make an excuse about needing to do a favor for Spoon. What’s your bait?”

  “Same as you, and I want to discuss it in person.”

  “Are you prepared to lose both their friendships if this backfires?”

  “You’re such a worrier. Think positive.”

  “When do we do this?” I asked.

  “Day after tomorrow. Spoon has morning meetings, which will be perfect. I’ll take the day watch.”

  “We can’t leave them in there for days. This scheme has a one-day expiration; if they can’t kiss and make up by then, they’re not going to.”

  “I’m leaving a burner phone so that either of them can call, but only me. I decided I was the best choice; Fab might trick you.”

  “Burner phones? You’re becoming a hoodlum.” Brad better not find out. “Mother, one more thing: if Fab or Didier calls and wants out, then we spring them. Agreed?”

  “This is going to work.”

  Maybe. It was better than anything I’d come up with, which was zilch.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Oh great!

  Kevin had parked his police cruiser at the curb and sat his backside in a ratty beach chair on the sidewalk. My guess was it was a trash treasure he’d somehow got Crum to part with. If he left it behind, I planned to call 911 and report nuisance littering.

  The driveway was empty when I pulled in, and childishly, I wanted to hog the entire space. Fab could park in the street.

  I slid out from behind the wheel, turning to meet the man before he got up the driveway. “Before you start, look around. See a dead body anywhere? No,” I answered for him. “If by chance you ferret one out, I didn’t do it.”

  Kevin nodded. “Just a friendly visit.” He clearly saw disbelief wash across my face. “Really.” He snapped the chair closed and threw it in the trunk of his car.

  “Let me guess. The sheriff’s department now issues junky webbed chairs as necessary equipment?”

  “I’ll be sure and let Crum know his taste sucks.”

  “I hope you used disinfectant. You do know that it came out of the trash?” I shivered at the thought of bugs. “You amaze me; you harass my tenants and then show glimpses of humanity.”

  He grinned. “Although I don’t consider you a prime suspect, I do have a few questions about your dead neighbor. If you know who did it, that would save me a lot of time.”<
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  It irked me to invite him inside my house, but I refused to stand out in the humidity and drip sweat. Worse, there was a possibility he might figure out a way to give me a free ride to the station. I waved my hand for him to follow.

  “Would you like something to drink?” I asked, heading to the refrigerator.

  “Coke, something sugary. You’re making me feel special. Just like when you invite me to one of those family dinners, where one of you feels the need to air grievances and a fight breaks out.”

  I tried not to laugh, knowing that I was usually in the middle of one of those memorable moments. “Don’t get used to the hospitality. Pull your list of questions out of your pocket, and let’s get started.” I put a can of soda onto the island, grabbing a water for myself, and hopped up on a stool.

  “You forget to relate anything about the departed?” Kevin cocked his head in the direction of Scotch’s house. “Fight? Argument? Any unsavory sorts hanging around? Family as chummy as they say they were?” He took a notepad and pen from his shirt pocket.

  “That’s a lot of questions. No to all of them except the family, whom I never met. Scotch wasn’t a tenant, so I’m not up on every piece of minutia regarding his private life. The man kept to himself, friendly, but no overtures to be pals.”

  “The girlfriend?” he asked.

  “Ruby moved in a few days ago, as in after his death. I did see her coming and going before Scotch’s demise, but he made a point of telling me he lived there by himself.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “I had an unobstructed view when a junky van pulled up the other day. Man I’ve never seen before behind the wheel. Who, by the way, didn’t lift a finger while Ruby unloaded boxes.” No need to tell him I used one of my trees as cover.

  Kevin tapped his pen. “Anything out of the ordinary going on in the neighborhood?”

  I had zero intention of informing him about the attempted break-ins at my house and the gun-toting intruders. Creole had that under control. He’d told me he called in a couple of favors from “friends,” and I now got regular drive-bys. My hesitation turned into a stare down. I wondered whether he thought that tactic would elicit more information or was coming up with more questions.