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

  “Thinking…” I weaseled.

  “Did you know that winning the lottery can shorten your life? A lot of greedy people out there. The latest case happened up north. The killers turned out to be the niece and her criminal boyfriend. They’re both on death row.”

  I shuddered. “If Scotch has nieces and nephews, you can cross them off the list; they’d be kids.”

  “This went well.” He picked up his soda can, looking around.

  I held out my hand and took the can from him, a weak smile plastered on my face.

  Kevin’s phone dinged. He took it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen. He stood up. “If you hear or see anything, you’ve got my numbers.”

  “I’ve got a question. I know it’s none of my business, and I’ll understand if you can’t answer. Who inherits the money?”

  “Didn’t leave a will. Probably thought he was too young, and he didn’t have the money long.” Kevin waved and left.

  He’d barely had time to make it to the end of the block when the doorbell rang. The short hairs on my neck ruffled. Friends called first, even if they were sitting in the driveway. Family had keys.

  I pulled my Glock from the holster that I had tucked inside my bag, which was sitting on the entry bench. Concealing it in the folds of my skirt, I looked out the peephole. A dark-haired, scraggly thirty-something shifted from foot to foot, eyeing the courtyard.

  “What do you want?” I yelled.

  “Delivery.”

  “Hold on. Let me get the key.” I ran across the living room, across the patio, and down the side path to the front. “Go away” would’ve probably been a better idea, but I wanted to know what he really wanted.

  He saw me come around the corner, Glock raised at chest level.

  “Hey, man.” He raised the box to chin level.

  “Who’s it for?”

  “Mary Smith. I’ll just leave it on the step; I don’t get paid enough to get shot.”

  “Where’s your delivery truck?”

  He threw the box in my direction and ran for the street, heading to the corner. I ran after him; he slowed before turning the corner, not looking back.

  This is a bad idea. I stopped, panting, then turned back to the house. The first thing I noticed was a lockpick lying next to the non-descript brown box that had no address label. Now I wished I’d pursued him further, but I highly doubted I would’ve been able to catch up to him without shooting him. The man Fab shot hadn’t showed up in an emergency room, and there’d been no news items about a dead body. My luck, this one would have turned me in if I’d attempted a shot. With our last unwelcome guests, Fab had showed up just in time for all the excitement. Where the heck was she now?

  Maybe it was due to watching one too many television shows, but I had no intention of picking up the box. It wasn’t rigged to explode, as demonstrated by the so-called delivery guy’s willingness to throw it. Creole could decide what to do before I added to the fingerprints.

  I went back in the house via the side path, making sure the gate was securely closed and locked. I glanced around, spotting my phone on the coffee table; my call to Creole went straight to voicemail. I left a message, then flicked through my phone numbers, contemplating my next call for a few seconds before calling Help.

  This latest intruder: what was he up to exactly? The chances of this man not being related to the other two seemed remote. Odds were that sooner or later one of them was going to get lucky, corralling us into a situation neither Fab nor I could get out of.

  The phone stopped ringing, and ambient noise hummed in the background. Help had answered his phone but didn’t say anything. I complained, “You’re annoying. It wouldn’t kill you to say hello.”

  “You only call when you want something; you should be a little nicer.”

  I knew he enjoyed the sparring, even though he wouldn’t admit to a feeling about anything. “I’ll just hang up,” I sulked.

  “Don’t you dare. Then I’ll have to drive over there.”

  I told him what happened in painstaking detail.

  “I’ll take care of it. You did the right thing, staying away from the box and calling me. The boyfriend will be happy too. Where’s the hot Frenchie chick? I hope she annoys Creole as much as she does me.” He laughed and hung up.

  “Good-bye to you too,” I mumbled.

  * * *

  “Help just turned the corner,” Fab said as she came through the front door, throwing her bag on the floor, where it landed with a thud. “He have an update on the two extorters?”

  “Look who blew in.” I looked over the top of my laptop, Jazz and Snow stretched out beside me on the daybed. “There was a little excitement.” I went on to tell her about it.

  “Sorry I wasn’t here. We need to figure out what’s going on.”

  “Hopefully, there’s fingerprints on the box that will identify our latest intruder.”

  Fab threw three black garment bags over the chair and bounced down on the couch, stretching out her hands behind her head. “I had a great night.”

  “Happy to hear the ‘job’ went well.” I used air quotes. “At least you’re in one piece. Don’t give me some BS about a date.”

  “What’s wrong with you today?” she huffed.

  “You’re lying to me, to my face I might add. I’m not Mother; I know a lie when I hear one. Except with Mother, you have the tendency to only skirt the truth. Why lie? It’s not like I’m judgmental.”

  “I’m not a sharer; you know that. I’ve had a hard time since breaking up with Didier, reliving the whys and what-ifs.” Sadness engulfed her face, and she closed her eyes.

  “That’s some shopping spree you went on.” I eyed the bags. “You can model the clothing for me. I won’t tell you how hot and sexy you look.”

  She laughed, a low, sultry chuckle. “I, uh… you don’t want to know. That way, you can claim ignorance.”

  “What have you done? Tell me now.” Fab remained silent. “I’ll find out myself.” I set my laptop on the table.

  “I stole Didier’s clothes.”

  “You what?” I couldn’t believe I’d heard her correctly. “Bet he’s pissed, to put it mildly.”

  “So far, no reaction,” she said sadly. “No phone call. No note. Nothing. He has to know it was me.”

  “Then what? You go straight to romantic reunion while holding his underwear hostage?”

  Fab stuck out her chin. “Where is the flaw in my plan?”

  “Besides the fact that it sucks? Did it ever once occur to you to share it with your best friend?” I unleashed my temper, which had been building for a while. “Why would you want my input now? You’re sneaking around, keeping me in the dark, lying, and leaving me worrying every night about where the hell you really are and what you’re doing.”

  “You’re yelling,” Fab whined.

  I lowered my tone a smidge, not that it would be noticeable. “Why don’t you address the issues that make Didier unhappy, starting with taking jobs where you end up in the hospital? Isn’t there a limit to how many times you can jump out a window before you end up dead?”

  Fab glared at me.

  “Wipe the snotty look off your face,” I said, imitating Mother. “You’ve got a couple of choices. Choose the great guy that loves you, if you haven’t blown that damn option all to hell by stealing his clothes…” I let out a long breath. “Or continue taking jobs from clients that don’t care about your personal safety as long as they get what they want. The rush hurts like hell when accompanied by a bullet. I’m giving you notice: I also like the edge, but I’m over getting shot at.”

  “If it were up to you, we’d rescue animals.” Fab sniffed.

  Fab had put a hole in my frustration level; the pure irritation on her face had me cracking a smile. “Return his damn clothes. Suggest a compromise, with the two of you working out rules you both can live with.” They’d been down this road before, but I wasn’t about to point that out. Anything to get them talking. “You stopp
ed lying for a while. Get back on the wagon. Rearranging the truth just to pretty up an ugly situation is also a lie.”

  When I’d had enough of Fab ignoring me, I said, “I’m disappointed in you, Miss Sexy; you could have come up with something more enticing. Like, oh I don’t know, seducing him.”

  “It’s too late. He’s already moved on,” Fab whispered.

  “I don’t believe that. How do you know?” I asked suspiciously, mentally crossing my fingers that her explanation didn’t involve three-way nudity.

  “A couple of nights ago, my date and I showed up at the same restaurant as Didier and his date.”

  “Nice coincidence.” Another plan of hers gone awry. “Your date? Thuggish looking, bulge under his jacket?”

  Fab ignored me. That meant I’d hit the mark; maybe not exactly, but close enough.

  “His date – a hot and upcoming model, and they were draped all over one another. The next day, the tabloids labeled them the newest ‘it’ couple?”

  Fab continued to ignore my needling.

  “Your stories of working – my behind. You’ve been following Didier. Your date… some associate who thought his lucky card got punched and agreed to show last minute?” Only Fab would know someone who could appear in ten minutes. “Date night, was that the night you ripped Didier off?”

  “I’m going to bed.” Fab stood and, without making eye contact, headed for the stairs.

  “It’s not even dark outside.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I didn’t, but getting an explanation might take all night.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Today was the day! I wasn’t completely sold on Mother’s idea and had concluded that no matter how our scheme played out, whether Fab and Didier got back together or not, there would be hell to pay. I was sitting by the pool, feet in the water, when the ringing of my phone startled me. My nervousness ratcheted up when Mother’s picture popped up.

  “Didier’s locked in the stateroom,” Mother whispered. “I feel sleazy tricking him. I hope he speaks to me again.”

  I groaned, my stomach in a nervous uproar. “It’s not too late to just arrange dinner at a restaurant and force them to sit together.”

  Mother snorted. “Don’t you think I already thought of that? They’d just head for the exit.”

  “It’s not too late to abandon the plan,” I said, reluctantly adding, “I’ll go along with whatever you want.”

  “How long will it take you to get Fab here?”

  “Ten minutes.” I hung up and flipped my legs out of the water, drying them off and slipping my feet into nearby tennis shoes. I smoothed down my skirt, drawing a stabilizing breath. “Fab,” I yelled, walking back inside the house. I fished my car keys from the bottom of my purse, which I’d left by the door. She sat sullen-faced at the island, rubbing her ears. “Catch.” I sent the keys airborne, and she easily caught them.

  “Gee, I get to drive.”

  “Sarcasm is unattractive.” I practically ran to the SUV, not wanting to answer any questions, thinking ahead to how I would ward them off in the car.

  Fab slid behind the wheel, her usual calm, collected self.

  “Spoon’s boat,” I directed. “Someone is camping out. Absolutely no guns.”

  “He’s big and scary, why not deal with it himself?”

  I needed to make up several vague responses, memorize them to be trotted out when needed. “He’s got a meeting or something today.” Something. I winced.

  “What does he want us to do? Push him or her overboard?”

  I turned to the window to avoid her scrutiny. “We convince whoever it is to come up with a healthier living solution.”

  “A better plan would be to threaten the person with certain death if they come back. Faster that way.”

  “Hmm.” I nodded, toying with the window button.

  “You okay?”

  “All’s good.” I flashed a phony smile and wanted to add how much our friendship meant to me. But that would alert her “something’s going on” radar, and I’d never get her out of the car.

  Thankfully, traffic was light, and we made it to the dock in record time, cutting off conversation. Fab parked in the first aisle to the side of the gate, which stood open, a crew stocking a boat for a trip.

  I needed to deter Fab from a search; finding Mother first would elicit questions for which neither of us had prepared good answers.

  I told Fab as we climbed the steps, “Another boat owner told Spoon he’d seen some people coming and going and lights on in the main stateroom. I’ll follow you,” I said.

  Fab pulled her Walther. “Where’s your Glock?”

  “Left it at home,” I said lamely. Her explosion would be huge when she discovered that I’d emptied the bullets out of her gun earlier.

  Fab shot me a dirty look. “If I needed backup?”

  Mother stood in the galley, a finger to her lips. I winced; so much for keeping Fab from spotting her. But Mother had it all under control. She held up a key. “Spoon forgot to give you this,” she said, handing it to Fab.

  I attempted to follow Fab down the hallway, but Mother pushed me out of the way, stepping in front of me and almost treading on the backs of Fab’s shoes.

  Fab unlocked the door, kicking it open. “Didier?” she said, her confusion clear.

  In mid-turn, Mother put a hand to the small of her back, shoved her in, slammed the door, and locked the top lock. To my untrained eye, it looked like a one-way lock with key-only access. So much for top-secret connections—my guess was her locksmith story was true.

  All was quiet for a minute, then Fab yelled, “Open this damn door.” She beat on it. “Don’t think I won’t kick your ass. Yours too, Madeline Westin Spoon.”

  Full name, that always meant big trouble.

  I whispered in Mother’s ear, “How long do we wait?”

  Mother shushed me, ear to the door.

  Fab and Didier’s voices were low, nothing that I could overhear and probably in French, the two knowing Mother and I would eavesdrop.

  Judging by the jiggle of the lower lock, Fab had taken out her trusty lockpick. “You two are dead,” she yelled. “I don’t care if you’re married to the scariest guy in the Keys, Madeline; he’s dead too.”

  “You two listen to me,” Mother barked in a voice I recognized from childhood. “You will kiss and make up. I’m tired of your unhappy faces.”

  “Madison,” Fab yelled. “Open up.” Followed by a loud bang to the bottom of the door.

  “I agree with Mother,” I yelled back. “Stop thinking about yourselves. Mother and I went to the trouble of coming up with this bold plan; the least you two could do is try a little kiss and make up.”

  “Cherie, open the door.” Didier sounded tired.

  “Madison doesn’t have the key, I do,” Mother said. “Tell me that you don’t love each other and getting back together is never going to happen.”

  “I realize that you’re trying to help,” Didier said. “But forcing the situation isn’t going to work. This is our decision to make.”

  “You two are stubborn,” Mother said in disgust. “I’ll be back later to see if you’ve come to your senses.” Mother grabbed my arm and pushed me toward the galley, loud voices in French following us down the hallway.

  I sank into one of the leather armchairs. “This plan stinks. Time to release them and let them figure it out themselves, while we still have a chance of not completely ruining our friendships.”

  “Give it some time to work,” Mother snapped.

  “Creole’s not going to be very happy with me. He told me to stay out of their relationship, and I should have listened.”

  “Spoon thought my plan stunk. He wanted to know when I was going to stop meddling in family members’ love lives.”

  I half-laughed. “I’m sure you told him never.”

  “I can hardly get away with anything, or at least, I haven’t so far.” The twinkle in Mother’s eyes belied her tone
; she wasn’t upset in the least. “I know he’s on to me when I catch him staring in that beady-eyed way of his.”

  “Give me the key.” I held out my hand. “You can make a run for it. When you reach the parking lot, I’ll unlock the top lock, and Fab can take care of the rest.”

  “They’re not fighting anymore.”

  “That’s because Fab’s probably wiggling out the porthole. Be prepared for her to come rushing up the stairs and wrestle us both to the floor.”

  Mother tapped her temple with her finger. “Thought of that – too small.”

  “Maybe. I’ve seen the woman in action.” I snapped my fingers. “The key. I’ll take the first watch.”

  Mother’s phone pinged. She hesitated. “Do you promise to give them a few hours?” She smiled while reading the message.

  Hours? I didn’t respond, instead crossing my fingers where she couldn’t see. “Of course I do.”

  “Spoon wants to meet for lunch, and then I’ll be back.” Mother dropped the key in my hand, stood, and brushed a kiss on my cheek. “You’ll see, this is going to work.”

  I knelt on the seat cushions on the back bench, leaning over the side to watch Mother as she made her way down the dock. At the gate, she turned and waved. I waved back. I flipped the lid on my silver seashell watch open, giving Mother two minutes to get to her car. Since I’d never set the time, I’d have to hope for some patience.

  Unable to sit still any longer, I stood and paced the deck, going back inside, listening for voices. In fact, after a few angry words, they’d lowered their voices. Now all was silent. I taped a piece of paper I found in the drawer to the door, writing ‘lock up’ on it. I slipped the key into the lock as quietly as possible. Once it was unlocked, I hustled off the boat. Before heading to the parking lot, I checked out the aft side to make sure there wasn’t a body hanging out of the porthole.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Awake most of the night, I caught a random hour of sleep here and there. Fab neither showed up nor called. At daylight, I drove down to the docks, checking for Didier’s Mercedes. I circled the lot twice, even though it didn’t hold many cars; he was gone, and he was too much of a gentleman to leave Fab stranded without a ride. They had to be together; she’d at least want to retrieve her car from the house.