Greed in Paradise (Paradise Series) (17 page)

“Let’s have a walk around your property,” Johnson said, scanning every inch with his flashlight.

“That won’t be necessary since all the party goers just left, just a few friends who got together for a barbeque,” I said.

“I’m writing you both a citation. You don’t get to use other people’s property for whatever excuse you concoct. Get out your identification,” Johnson ordered.

“If you call the owner, they’ll verify they know me and have no objection to my sitting on their porch,” I said. Mac had signed up to be property manager, but they hadn’t sent back a signed contract. “Our IDs are in my SUV.”

“It’s the law that you’re not supposed to be without identification. Don’t move or I’ll arrest you.” Johnson went back to his patrol car.

“I’ve had enough of him,” I hissed. “I’ve never done jack to that man.”

“While you were engaged with that moron, Kathy came out, crept around cottage two, and tried to listen from behind the palm trees. She didn’t stay long. After shifting positions a few times, she went back to her place, got a black garbage bag, and headed in the direction of the pool. Minutes later, she came back, handed the bag off to some kid young enough to be her grandson, he took it and disappeared between the front cottages and out onto the beach.”

“I wonder if she knows it’s me?” I asked. “Maybe I can get some good info out of Joseph in the morning.”

“This could be worse,” Fab continued to whisper. “Johnson could figure out we’re armed and our concealed carry permits are also in the SUV.”

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this because of me. I’ll get us a lawyer to get the charges dropped.”

“I have no doubt,” Fab chuckled.

Johnson came back, ticket book in hand. “Sign here,” he said, and pointed.

I signed and handed the book to Fab. “A heads-up, we’ll both be in court with our lawyers, so you might want to schedule time off.”

“You should be thanking me, instead of copping a pissy attitude. You could both be on your way to the county jail.”

Fab pinched my arm and I managed to keep my mouth shut. Johnson’s eyes followed us as we walked to the corner. He sat at the stop sign and waited until we got in the Hummer, and followed us out to the main highway before turning in the opposite direction.

“Do you suppose he thought we were going to double-back?” Fab asked.

“We’re not doing this again. I’ll bribe Shirl and pitch it to her as though stake-outs are fun and adventurous. Or better yet, have you order her to do it.” I laughed. “Mac would tell you to go screw yourself after blowing one of her gigantic bubbles, but not Shirl.”

“You’re a terrible friend.”

A perfect day dawned in the Keys, sun shining, birds chirping, when Fab and I pulled into The Wild Bird Farm, a dozen cars already parked around the large lot. We stopped at the house first and exchanged hugs with Tolbert. Since every room swarmed with helpful people, we snuck back outside. We boarded the church bus early, no reason not to get a good seat. No matter which one you chose, they were dreadfully uncomfortable. I shifted around unsuccessfully, each way I turned the edges of a spring poked me hard in the butt. This morning, I thought briefly about thinking up a good excuse as to why I couldn’t attend Gus Ivers’ memorial—we only had a brief business relationship, after all. No one else in town would take on the job of evicting road kill entrepreneurs. Then to my shock he mentioned me in his will, gifting me the whole block, which I still don’t understand. Neither did his daughter, Violet, who I noticed hadn’t shown up for her father’s final hurrah.

I punched Fab’s leg. “Get your feet off the back of the seat.” We scored the back bench and spread out to discourage anyone from sitting down next to one of us. “Spoon needs to find someone to work a miracle and recover these seats and make them comfortable.” He owned an auto body shop down by the docks. People whispered that illegal activities happened behind the barbed-wired fencing, but I’d never heard his name and law enforcement mentioned in the same sentence.

She growled, “Let’s get out of here.”

“You tell Tolbert we’re leaving.” I knew she’d never disappoint Tolbert and wipe the smirky smile of pleasure he got when he saw her come through the kitchen door. This would be his first opportunity to share doing what he loved with her. If he had his way, the both of us would attend every Sunday.

“Reminds me of high school when I’d sit in the back of the class with the bad boys, the criminals in training.” I laughed. “You know they always tolerated my total adoration, but by today’s standards I’d be labeled a nerdy girl.”

“And here you are with a bad girl.” She elbowed me. “There were no bad girls in my all-girl Catholic school. You either behaved or suffered the painful wrath of the nuns and their steel rulers. Did any of your classmates become real criminals?”

“All of them eventually turned into upstanding citizens with the exception of one, Barlass, and I don’t know what happened to him. One day he didn’t show up to school, so I asked around and found out his parents sent him to military school, which broke my heart since I’d had a huge crush.”

The seats started to fill up. More than a few guests showed up who could be labeled riffraff, which surprised me due to Ivers’ total lack of disdain for them. Free food couldn’t have been the motive; that would be served after the service and attendance wasn’t a requirement. Fab and I had picked up platters of sandwiches at The Bakery Café. We wouldn’t lie and say they were homemade, but we wouldn’t correct anyone who wanted to think so.

Fab jerked on my arm. “Scooch down in your seat and maybe he won’t see us.”

Harder boarded the bus and stood by the driver’s seat. He was Fab’s least favorite detective. Today, he’d left his tight-ass look at home. This was one of the few times I’d seen him do normal—he’d be perfectly at home in a beach bar with his tropical shirt and shorts. All he needed was a drink in his hand. I knew he and Tolbert were friends, but had no idea he even knew Ivers.

The bus filled up quickly. I waved and motioned Harder to come and sit in the back with us. Tolbert stood in the front and welcomed everyone. Once full, he closed the bus doors and took the driver’s seat.

Fab hissed, “I hate you.”

I jerked her sleeve. “You put on your party manners,” I hissed back, “or I’ll tell Didier you embarrassed me after I begged you not to.” I dabbed at my dry eye.

“He’d never believe you over me.”

“Only if you lied to him.” I wanted to laugh because I had her now and she’d never do that.

“Are you here to arrest anyone?” I asked when Harder sat down next to me. We had room for one more person, so I gave Fab a shove with my hips.

He shot a dog-smile at Fab. “My favorite criminal, and her sidekick. When this is over I have a few questions for you. I’d ask her”—he indicated Fab—“but she lies all the time.”

“You two need to kiss and make up or something. I bet if you ask her nicely, she might cooperate with you once in a while,” I said.

Fab crossed her arms and looked out the open window, as a cool breeze blew down the aisle.

“Did you know Gus?” I leaned into Harder so that he could hear me. “Or did you wake up this morning and say, ‘I think I’ll go to the memorial of someone I don’t know.’”

His eyes narrowed and he ignored the question. “Have you seen Violet Ivers?”

I shook my head and wondered about his putting in an appearance. We rode along in silence until we pulled into Long Key Park, where everyone filed off and filled the picnic tables. Tolbert stood in the middle, holding up his hands, stopping all conversation. He looked at everyone and smiled. “We are gathered here today to remember and celebrate the life of Gus Ivers. It will be a short service, then we’ll go around the table and everyone can express their thoughts.” He pointed to a plumpish woman. “You’re up, Polly.”

Polly, middle-aged with long black hair, had been sitting in the front. She stood, clasping her hands, and belted out
Amazing Grace
. She had a set of pipes and clearly enjoyed her music. She followed with another song I didn’t recognize but the woman could sing.

Now Tolbert’s turn, he got up and started his eulogy. From the corner of my eye, I saw Harder retrieve a small note pad from his shirt pocket and jot down notes. I shifted closer so I could see and he poked me in the arm. I gave him a dirty look, leaned over farther, and noticed he’d written down names of people, or descriptions when he didn’t know the person.

He flipped the page and wrote,
You’re nosey
.

I counted the names on the page and matched them to the person and seat. I pulled on his pen taking it from him and wrote names next to a few of the descriptions. Between the two of us we ID’d everyone. I supplied all the names of the lesser-known criminals. The mourners fell into two categories: well-known pillars of the community and the general riffraff. I’d say it ran 50/50.

One after the other, each person stood and gave us a glimpse into the life of the man. We found out he shot one guy in the butt for trespassing, then drug him to the hospital and paid the bill. He cheated at poker when he thought no one was looking. His favorite watering hole turned out to be The Croc, where locals hung out and discreet sex acts were performed right at the bar. He gave generously to charity and no one had an unkind word to say. He didn’t loan or give money to fools which he’d tell you to your face, but he’d buy you a meal.

Not everyone spoke, and I planned to be in that group until Fab almost nudged me off the bench. I stood briefly and said, “Gus and I met through mutual business interests and I enjoyed our friendship.” It sounded lame, but the truth was I hadn’t known him long and we only had the car wash in common. It had pleased me that he never complained, probably because it made more of a profit than when he had full control. It would make more money than automated if I could find two new girls to wash cars half naked.

To my shock, Fab stood up. “I only knew Gus Ivers a short amount of time but I liked him. We got one another. He had a great dry sense of humor and was an outrageous flirt.”

I glared at Harder, daring him to get up and say something, but he just glared back and stayed seated. When everyone who wanted to had spoken, Polly stood and sang
Time to Say Good-bye
.

On the drive back to the farm everyone sat quietly at first, but when the first person broke the silence everyone started talking at once, and then the return trip seemed to go faster. The three of us stayed seated as everyone piled off the bus and over to the house. Fab stood and pushed by me. “You can fill me in later,” she said, and started up the aisle.

Harder’s jaw clenched. He wanted to talk to Fab and she was doing her usual cut and run on him, only the threat of jail had gotten her to stick around in the past.

“I don’t mind that you leave Fab,” I said sweetly, “but I won’t share one word of information with you.”

From the look on her face, I think she seriously entertained shooting me. I ignored her and turned to Harder. “You have questions for me?”

“What do you know about Violet Ivers?” he asked.

“Never met her before the reading of the will. She pitched a fit when she found out her father left bequests to other people. Of course, your friend, Tucker, is contesting.” I noticed Fab hadn’t left, sitting about three rows up. “I do know she’s trying to sell off his gun collection.”

“Have you been to her house, invited or otherwise?” he asked.

“No to either. But if you continue down this road, I’ll need to consult my attorney.”

“So that means you’ve been to Gus’s house.” He fixed me with his sneaky smile. “You’ve got Creole immunity; you’d have to kill someone to trump that. I’m not so worried he’d kick the crap out of me, which he’d do, I’m more worried that he’d leave the department and he’s the best detective I’ve ever had, so if you keep it at the misdemeanor level I can overlook it.”

He stood and fished his phone out of his pocket, scrolling the screen. “Do you know this guy?”

“Nice mug shot. He seems pretty proud to be getting his picture taken, strung out, hair sticking on end.” I took his phone and showed Fab. “Gary Greene is his name. Flopping right now at Gus Ivers’ house.”

“Now isn’t that an interesting piece of news. I’d like to talk to him, ask a few questions. He seems to have disappeared.”

Fab snorted. “Whatever happened, we had nothing to do with it.”

“The immunity you spoke of, does it extend to my friend here?” I asked Harder. When I could see that he salivated over the thought of arresting Fab, I added, “I’m sure the Creole deal you spoke of would include her.”

“I feel sorry for Creole. You’re going to drive him crazy.” The corners of his mouth flickered up. “Agreed, her too,” he said and pointed.

“We stopped by Ivers’ place to check on the house, and we ran into Gary who was making himself at home in one of the bedrooms. He kept mumbling about a ‘she,’ and I assumed he was talking about Violet, since it’s her house now.”

“So you know him then.” Harder mulled that over.

Fab, exasperated, said, “Kicking the crap out of him doesn’t mean we know him.”

“He pulled a gun but wasn’t going to be satisfied with just shooting us, he had big plans to cut us up and dump our bodies. Mentioned that ‘she’ wouldn’t be happy if he let us live,” I said.

“You’re alive and now he’s nowhere to be found, so how did your little visit end?” he asked.

“Fab kicked the gun out of his hand, I hit him over the head, we tied him up, and left.”

“You still have his gun?” Harder asked.

I turned to Fab. “Do we?”

“You can have it,” she fumed.

“And since we’re being so cooperative, I see no reason to mention any of this to Creole. I’m not interested in one of his lectures where he growls through the whole thing.”

Harder threw his head back and laughed. “I’m familiar with that voice.”

“What did the coroner deem to be Ivers’ cause of death?” I asked.

“Acute liver failure.”

“That’s odd. Ivers had recently gotten a clean bill of health from his doctor. You’d think a failing liver would get the attention of even a crappy doctor. Does Tolbert know?” Fab asked.