Overdose in Paradise Read online

  “How about you let me look around her place?” Fab pulled cash out of her pocket. “Answer a couple of questions, and then you can pretend I was never here if you like. It saves me getting a warrant.”

  The woman’s eyes glittered at the sight of the money. “Let me get my keys.” She was back in a second. “This won’t take long, will it?”

  “I’ll be quick.” Fab handed her the money, which disappeared into the pocket of the woman’s housedress.

  I followed them back down the sidewalk. It surprised me that Nicolette had rented a unit on the alley, but then, it would have offered a quick getaway if she’d needed one.

  Fab walked inside, snapping on a pair of gloves.

  “What did you think of Nicolette?” I asked the manager, wanting to distract her attention from Fab. It worked, as she turned in my direction.

  “I still don’t want to get involved.” She hesitated only slightly. “The truth is, Ms. Anais wasn’t around much. She certainly didn’t sleep here, not that I ever saw. More of an expensive place to collect her mail. She usually parked a block over and walked, even when there was an open space on this street. I know because I followed her once. Husband tells me I’m damn nosey, and I guess he’s right.”

  “Did the cops remove anything?” I asked.

  “Not a single thing. Although, the fingerprint guy was here for over an hour.”

  “Any visitors?”

  The woman shook her head.

  “How often did Nicolette come by?”

  “Every few days. She’d check her mail, go into her apartment for an hour or so, and leave.”

  “Interesting woman.”

  “More like sneaky little thing.” The woman harrumphed. “I told my husband she was up to something, but he told me to stop looking for trouble since she paid her rent on time. One thing we do agree on—we’re happy she didn’t get murdered on the property. I’d be the one stuck with the cleanup.” She shuddered.

  Now probably wasn’t the time to mention that I knew a great crime scene cleaner if she ever needed one.

  Fab took one last look around and arched her brow at me. I nodded, letting her know I was finished asking questions. The reality was the woman was eager to talk, despite her fear of getting in the middle of the case. I’d also noticed that, like us, she hadn’t introduced herself.

  “Thank you,” I said, and we both waved as we left. “Did you find anything?”

  “Not a single thing,” Fab said as we walked back to the SUV. “She didn’t live there. Not one personal item. Ugly rental furniture.” She turned up her nose.

  “The manager said that Nicolette never stayed long. Didn’t occur to me that she’d never moved in. Hope you got your snooping on tape?”

  “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

  I laughed at her faux outrage. “What was I thinking? Of course, you did.” After I got in the SUV, I informed her, “I want to stop and check on Joseph, since he’s out of the hospital. But first, hit up a convenience store so I can pick him up some food.”

  Fab gasped.

  “I’m not talking a hot dog that’s been twirling on a stick all day but Ding-Dongs, Twinkies, etc. Where else do you buy those kinds of treats?” I convulsed in laughter.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Nice house.” I scoped out Dr. A’s two-story beach house on stilts as Fab parked in the driveway. “Before we get out… For the second time today, why are we here? It’s one thing to help Dr. A find an attorney and another to search his house.”

  “I just threw it out there, expecting him to give me an emphatic ‘not my house’ response. When he didn’t object, how could I pass up the opportunity to take a look around?”

  “Yes, how?” I shook my head. “Wait until he finds out everything that entails.”

  “Are you certain of your friend’s innocence? You only know what was reported on the internet, and you haven’t had the opportunity to ask him directly, which I wouldn’t recommend anyway.” Fab reached over the backseat and retrieved the duffels where we kept an extra set of clothing. Having experience changing in the car, we swapped for jeans and t-shirts in record time.

  “He was emphatic during our visit that he’s not involved in drugs. As long as I’ve lived in the Cove, Dr. A has had a stellar reputation, with no hint of criminal activity.” I shoved my phone in my pocket, sliding my feet into tennis shoes. “One of the reports that GC sent over included the drug test results of all of the employees in his office, including Dr. A himself. They were routinely tested, and the tests always came back negative. At the very worst, he may have purchased the drugs for her, and maybe it’s as simple as a little recreational use gone out of control. But he denied that also.”

  “A kilo?” Fab questioned, the amount found in a briefcase on the scene, according to the police report. “That’s not recreational. I believe he’s looking at big-time jail for the quantity alone. And if he is dealing, then why agree to let us search his home?”

  “After reading through the reports GC sent over, I have a few questions. No way can the prosecutor make a murder case unless it can be proved that the good doc supplied the drugs. Especially since she was already dead by the time Dr. A got home and attempting to resuscitate her had no effect. When he left the hospital and when the call came in are both documented.”

  Fab shoved some tools into her back pockets, hanging onto her lockpick, and we got out of the car. I stood in the driveway and surveyed the quiet neighborhood while Fab walked the property line, opening the mailbox. It was empty.

  “I’m assuming the reason he got arrested was because the briefcase found near the body belonged to him and happened to be full of drugs and an unregistered gun,” I said. “Which is pretty damning.”

  “How do the investigators know that it was his briefcase?” Fab mused. “His name on it? There was no mention of whether his fingerprints were found on it anywhere.”

  “Since we don’t have a good reason for snooping, I feel it’s important to remind you that we’re not here to be totally invasive. In our last phone chat, Dr. A told me that Nicolette used one of the guest bedrooms for her clothes and shoes and such.”

  “To answer your original question, we’re here to learn more about the girlfriend.” Fab tossed me a pair of gloves.

  I caught them and snapped them on. “Inquiring minds would also like to know where the drugs were purchased. They didn’t come from Tommy the dime dealer. Too bad the toxicology reports on Nicolette haven’t come back yet. Wouldn’t you think, if she were a user, that Dr. A would notice the signs?”

  “Love, or wall-banging sex, has a tendency to make people overlook pesky bad habits. In the beginning anyway.” Fab picked the lock and opened the door, and we scooted under the yellow police tape.

  “The cops did a thorough job,” I said over Fab’s shoulder as we stood in the living room. It was evident that every inch had been searched, as cupboard doors and drawers stood open. “The report included a photograph of the coffee table where she’d snorted the coke, and what was left was minimal.”

  I followed her down the hallway to the bedrooms, which were in the same messy condition. Not a single piece of furniture had been spared. “This is probably a waste of time. Like you said, it was probably over-indulgence. I don’t see how Dr. A can prove he didn’t provide the drugs. Even if we locate the dealer and he admits Nicolette bought the drugs from him, he’s not going to incriminate himself in court.”

  “That could turn ugly. The quantity, as you said, doesn’t suggest the corner dealer.” For once, Fab didn’t appear eager to go looking for trouble. Not of that caliber, anyway. “There’s more to Nicolette than meets the eye, as evidenced by her address of record, which she’s had for months and used for hour-long visits once a week. That’s a lot of moolah for a mail drop.” Fab toed her way through the pile of clothes blocking the door of the walk-in closet. “If there’s anything to find, I’ll find it. Nicolette wouldn’t be the first person to hide things so even th
e cops can’t find them.”

  It annoyed me that I didn’t know how to ferret out secret hideaways and, therefore, was currently zero help. The guest bedroom had been sparsely furnished, and to my untrained eye, it appeared that the cops had searched every inch. Even the mattress and box spring had been tipped against the wall.

  “I’m going to need a chair so I can look inside the register.” Fab called, pointing at the grill high on the wall. She dropped to her knees, producing a pen flashlight.

  I located a stepladder in the kitchen and carried it back to the bedroom. Then I poked my head inside the walk-in closet, which looked like a bomb of women’s clothes and shoes had gone off in it, the garments exploding into the air and landing in a haphazard fashion.

  Fab crawled around the perimeter of the enormous closet, pulling out the drawers in the built-in organizer and knocking on the bottoms. She opened the side doors, stuck her head in, and searched there, too.

  “Since I’m certain you have a screwdriver in that back pocket of yours, hand it over, and I’ll climb up and check out the vents.” I personally didn’t think it was that great of a hiding space. Too much work to get to, for one thing.

  “Hold on.” Fab, who always came prepared, whipped out an army knife. “Look what I found.” She pried off one of the baseboards on the organizer and then another, lowering herself flat to the floor and continuing until she’d removed all of the trim. She stuck her hand in and slid out a long metal storage box, and then another, before continuing her trek around the enclosed area.

  I was officially impressed.

  Finally, Fab sat up and inspected all sides of the two boxes. “Damn, they’re locked,” she said, clearly disappointed.

  “Since when has that ever stopped you?”

  “Oh, I’ll get them open, just not with my lockpick. They’ve got combo locks, so I’ll need a different tool.” She stood and set them on top of the organizer. Reaching over, she grabbed the stepladder, snapping it open and centering it under the register. “Pull off the front of that vacuum cleaner.” She pointed to the corner, where a brand new upright sat, instruction booklet hanging off the side.

  Flipping it around, I unsnapped the cover over the bag. My jaw dropped at the sight of the large manila envelope that had been shoved inside in place of a bag. Undoing the clasp, I saw that it contained a sheaf of papers and a small notebook. “I’m impressed that you knew this trick. Hidden paperwork in a vacuum…should make for interesting reading.” I held up the envelope. “Miss Nicolette is getting more interesting by the minute.”

  Fab stared down from her perch, then went back to unscrewing the grate, which she handed to me, then pocketed her tool, trading it for her flashlight. She shone the beam straight down the long passage. “Nothing in here.” She turned the light onto a smaller passageway off to one side. “Wait. There’s a fire safe in here that I can’t reach. Wonder how Nicolette did it…unless she had chimp arms?”

  I tried not to laugh, saying a silent thank you that my knuckles didn’t drag the ground. Turning back to the task at hand, I said, “Don’t move.” I disappeared into the closet and came back out with a rod that had caught my eye. I’d wondered what the heck it was.

  “A garment hook!” Fab said.

  “Now I know what it’s used for.” I handed it to Fab. Peeking back inside the closet, I noted that all the clothing rods were easily accessible. Clever woman!

  After several attempts, Fab hooked the box and reeled it over to her. Handing down the rod, she said, “Ready? I’m going to pass this down to you. It’s heavy.” She tipped it on its side, hanging onto one end.

  I reached up and grabbed the handle, hefting it down and setting it on the floor. I retrieved the other two boxes from the organizer and set all three together.

  “While I check the rest of the rooms, you go over the room one last time; maybe more hidden treasures will turn up.”

  I’d given the small pile of jewelry on the island in the closet a cursory glance when I passed it the first time, but nothing had caught my interest. I turned in a circle, surveying the room, and noticed Nicolette’s designer purse upended on the floor at the foot of the bed, lying on top of what appeared to be the contents. Hunching down, I picked up her wallet and checked the pockets, including the slots for credit cards. Same with her makeup bag, which didn’t yield anything either. Turning to the purse itself, I unzipped one side pocket, then another—barely noticeable unless your own purse had similar pockets—and discovered a set of keys.

  Standing, I twirled the keys, disappointed that there weren’t any lockbox keys. Heading to the front door, I tried two of the four keys that could possibly fit the lock and neither worked. That left two mailbox-type keys.

  I went in search of Fab, who had moved into Dr. A’s bedroom. The door stood open, showing that it had been thoroughly searched and was in the same chaotic shape as Nicolette’s, personal belongings strewn on the floor. It was hard to visualize what the room had looked like before.

  “Do you suppose Nicolette hid anything in here?” I asked.

  “Doubt it. My guess is that she hid everything in her closet. All it would take was the doc coming home early and finding her with her backside hanging out of an air vent. Even I couldn’t come up with a lame excuse for that.”

  “Cleaning?”

  “As Didier would say, ‘Try again.’”

  “What do you suppose the woman was hiding to go to the lengths that she did? Why not a safe deposit box at the bank?”

  “Good questions. Wonder if Dr. A knows the answers.”

  I wandered back down the hall and lingered in the doorway of Nicolette’s room, lost in thought, wondering where this case was going to lead, as Fab went room to room for one last check.

  She came back and entered the bedroom, hands on her hips, scanning it as though seeing it for the first time. “Fake tree in the corner.” She pointed. There was a price tag hanging off a branch, and it had been tipped over, showing that, miraculously, no soil spilled out.

  Long ago, I’d ixnayed houseplants, except for the tropical ones that had sat in my garden window. I’d once bought a small tree that came with a fly nest in the soil; when they hatched, it was unending flies for several days until source of the problem was discovered. I turned up my nose at the long-ago memory.

  “Decoration only.” She kicked the pot. “Or another creative hiding place.” She bent down, grabbing the trunk and giving it a good shake. “Hmm…you hold the other end, and I’ll pull this one.”

  The tree dislodged from the pot and…nothing. No interesting find that would answer the mounting questions. All we got was a wad of burlap wrapped around…?

  Fab slit the fabric and exposed two large mayonnaise jars. Yanking one out and letting the tree topple to the floor, she unscrewed the lid.

  “Careful. Mayo stains don’t come out of clothing.”

  She stuck her finger in the jar, running it around the inside, and the glove came back out clean. “Paint.” She pulled out an enormous wad of bills, which she handed to me before unscrewing the lid of the other jar and finding a similar stash.

  “Hundreds.” I fingered the stack of bills and reached for a jar, peering inside. Sure enough, Nicolette had painted the sides so that no one would suspect it contained anything other than mayo, if not for where we found it.

  “Mine too.” Fab handed me her jar. “This chick was into something.”

  “Do you have a mental checklist of every possible hiding place running around in that crafty mind of yours?”

  “I used to keep a list; I’ll email it to you. There will be a test.” Fab shook her finger at me.

  I let out a long sigh, wishing we hadn’t come here, but that cat had cleared the block. “What are we going to do with what we found?”

  “We’re taking everything with us. There’s a possibility we’ll find answers in one of the boxes. Since you’re the professional one, you keep an inventory, and when Dr. A gets released, we’ll return everything.�
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  “I’m as anxious as you are to get a look at the contents, but I think it’s none of our business and we should put them back. Not to mention that it could be evidence in a murder, and if we remove it, it can’t be proved that it was ever here or that it belonged to Nicolette.”

  “Or it might be safer to take it with us and hope that whatever is inside will prove Dr. A’s innocence. Plus, there’s a real possibility that there’s a third party wanting their product back.”

  “Maybe. It is theft.”

  “Dr. A gave me permission to take what I wanted,” Fab huffed.

  “Not exactly.” Maybe because he had no idea how good Fab was at finding things people didn’t want found. “What if these boxes belong to Dr. A and not Nicolette?”

  Fab’s frown was the only sign she heard me as she examined the boxes. “I haven’t replaced my tools since the fire. This is just the kick I need to trick out my workspace in the garage at the office. In the meantime…”

  Trying again, since she’d ignored my last question, I said, “Does Didier know that you’re planning that space at the office?” Throwing out her husband’s name might slow her down and make her realize this wasn’t a good idea.

  “Of course, he does.” Fab blushed. “He caught me sketching out a few ideas that included a list of tools and gave me a few good suggestions. I’m happy I didn’t attempt my first ‘surprise,’ presenting it as a done deal and something I did for the two of us.”

  “Pretty soon, you’ll be no-more-sneak-around Fab. Will I even recognize you?” I laughed at her glare.

  “There’s one person we know has every tool known to man, and that’s Spoon. We can swing by the garage, but I’m certain he’ll suggest that we not get in so deep.” Oh yeah, too late. “If he’s not there, I’ll pick the lock and say you did it.”

  “Except that he’ll check the security footage. Busted. My guess is that he’s going to harp on us minding our own business and suggest that we go get a coffee. So you better have an answer ready.”