Murder in Paradise (Paradise Series) (12 page)

“He’d need a court order and he’s afraid he’ll have to explain his cash business. He needs to start running background checks before he lets his pricey cars off the lot.”

“Give that to me.” Brad wiggled his fingers. “I can get us in but what if the ignition lock is different?”

“Mother can hotwire it, she’s better and faster at it than me.”

Brad turned on Mother, his face red. “Madeline Westin! Tell me your daughter’s a liar!”

Mother picked up her purse and fished out her lock pick set. “Afraid not. Julie and I are star pupils, Madison needs tutoring.”

“You’re mean,” I sulked. “I had a bad day, performance anxiety.”

Brad took Mother’s lock set. “Listen to you two. Madison, you drive the Hummer. I’ll do the dirty illegal work. You better pay bail before they make me strip and assign me a cell. Follow me out. Where’s the original key?” He snapped his fingers.

I fished the key out of my pocket. “Be careful.”

Brad cut through the cars across the two aisles, came up on the passenger side, and had the door open in seconds. He leaned across the driver’s side and opened the door. He walked around, and seconds later the engine hummed and he headed straight to the exit.

Mother said, impressed, “That was fast and, so far, we haven’t run into a single person. Aren’t you surprised not one security guard is out for a cigarette stroll?”

“If Brad had a criminal mindset he could make the big bucks jacking high-end sports cars,” I said.

As I pulled out of the VIP lot, Brad fell in behind and followed us to Famosa Motors. After an attempted murder and a burst of stolen cars and vandalism, Brick hired two armed, beefy security guards to patrol the lot during non-business hours. They also took possession of middle-of-the-night returns and made sure they didn’t disappear before morning. Brick recently told me he expanded his private detective firm to include personal body guarding services.

The two guards—dressed like twins in shorts, muscles bulging from their rolled-up dress shirts—stood at attention, hands on their side arms, when the Hummer drove on the lot followed by the McLaren. I retrieved the keys from Brad and handed them over.

Brad opened the back door for me. “I’m driving.”

I stuck out my tongue and climbed over the driver’s seat.

“Fasten your seatbelt, ladies.” Brad squealed out of the parking lot. “The valet left the passenger door unlocked, key worked in the ignition. Someone took a screwdriver or something to the driver’s side lock, rendering it mutilated. Wait until Brick sees the inside, full of trash, smells like rotten food, interior is stained and has burn holes.”

“Why would someone do that?” Mother asked.

Brad shook his head. “Because they could. If I were Famosa, I’d hunt the asshole down, kick their balls into their tonsils, and retrieve another bag of cash for damages.” He stopped at the red light, checking out the blonde in the convertible.

“Take us back to my house; I’ve had enough drama for today. I’ve got a full schedule of it tomorrow.” I leaned back against the seat, my feet propped up behind Brad’s head.

“I’m spending the night,” Brad told me. “I’m taking Julie and Liam to the boat races up in Ft. Lauderdale tomorrow.”

“One of us needs to get up early and go to The Bakery Café and get breakfast.” I nudged Mother’s shoulder. “Or I could cook.”

CHAPTER 16

I couldn’t believe I overslept. I jumped out of bed and into the shower, letting the water rain down on me. Note to self: Get visiting days with Fab every day she sits in jail. I stepped into a jean skirt, reached for a long sleeve T-shirt, and pulled my long red hair into a ponytail. That would pass the dress code at the jail, which was basically to cover yourself; nothing provocative, and no open-toed shoes. The house was eerily quiet as I went down the stairs. Walking into the kitchen, I saw the note on top of the pink bakery box. “I went with Brad, Julie, and Liam to the boat races. See you later. Got your favorites.” Mother drew an arrow to the bottom of the page.

I hopped in the Hummer with my coffee mug and a pecan roll, and headed to Clean Bubbles to see if the Poppins had packed up and left. It had to make them nervous, the local sheriff watching their every move.

I called Cruz Campion’s office wanting an update as to when he’d get Fab sprung from jail. He needed to know about Fab and the District Attorney’s husband. The D.A. can hate her guts, but she doesn’t get to over-prosecute the case to get back at Fab. No one talked to Cruz without going through Susie. Lately, my success rate for getting my call put through to Cruz ran under fifty percent.

“Hi, Susie, this is Madison Westin. I’d like to know when Fab’s next court date is?”

“You’re not our client and we don’t discuss other client’s cases,” Susie scolded.

I got privacy, but I wasn’t in the mood. “I’ll just go to the courthouse and wait for Cruz to come out of the courtroom and ask him.”

“You’ve got a big pair of balls,” Susie said, not amused by my blackmail attempt.

Be nice.
“Fab’s my best friend and I’d like to have some good news for her when I see her later today.”

“Another bail hearing is calendared for the end of the week. Mr. Campion is applying pressure on the prosecutor’s office. How did you get a jail appointment so quickly?”

I ignored her question. “Thank you, Susie, I appreciate the info. Have a great day.” I hung up before she could ask any more questions, and besides, I had an incoming call.

I parked the Hummer around the corner from Clean Bubbles so I could observe street traffic.

Brick’s name popped up on the screen. “What the hell happened to my car?” he demanded when I answered.

“The guy you rented it to is a pig. What did he do to the driver’s side door lock?”

“Asshole smeared glue on a file, stuck it in the lock and broke it off. Any problems I should know about?”

“Went smoothly for a change.” Thank goodness.

“I’m guessing you didn’t call about bail since it’s ten mill. Anything else I can do let me know.”

“Don’t hang up,” I said loudly, in case the next sound I heard was dead air. “There is something I want. Fab’s next court hearing is at the end of the week. Can you get me on the jail visitation schedule every day? I’m not picky on the time.”

“Done. Bitsy will call you later with the info. Don’t worry about Fab, Casio has connections, made some calls, now she’s got friends.”

I got all teary eyed. “Thank you.” Then I realized he’d already hung up on me in typical Brick fashion. Fab had worked for him for a long time, and there was mutual respect there. Brick called her first on every job, except for dead people and animals, those jobs went to me.

I’d been watching the sheriff car at the other end of the block; from my vantage point, it was impossible to make out who sat behind the wheel. I drove past the car and looked in the window, checking to see if I knew the driver on a first name basis. I didn’t recognize the sheriff; he must’ve drawn the short straw. I made a U-turn and drove back to the car wash.

The Poppins had zero sense. Clean Bubbles showed no signs that they’d paid attention to one word I said. Vanilla sunned herself in a lawn chair in the front.

Vanilla sat up and took off her sunglasses when I drove in the driveway. “I thought Quirky told you to take a hike,” she told me when I got out of the Hummer.

“Where is Quirky?” I’d run out of patience for the day.

Vanilla’s eyes darted toward their make shift office, which was basically a large storage room. She drew herself up out of the rickety chair. “He’s, uh, not here. Now hit the road, before I kick your ass.”

I didn’t take out my Glock. Instead, I hiked my skirt. “You take one boney step in my direction and I’ll shoot you and the sheriff sitting across the street can corroborate my story, you made the first move.” I watched Vanilla’s body movements. I’d be ready for her, a couple of short kicks would have her lying on the ground looking up.

Vanilla pulled her unwashed hair back, tying it with a piece of a rag. “I’m going to get the sheriff.”

“Go ahead, that would give them probable cause to ransack your illegal operation and arrest you two for the scams you’re running.”

Vanilla grabbed her beach chair. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You tell Quirky time’s run out. Jimmy Spoon and his boys will be here to kick your asses to Georgia. If you’ve never heard of Spoon, I suggest you ask around.”

“We know Spoon.” Vanilla gave me the finger and disappeared into the storage room.

Not interested in going home to an empty house, I headed to The Cottages. I planned to sneak out onto the beach and let it work its magic on my frustration before heading to the jail.

I drove alongside the white sandy beach with the windows rolled down and a cool breeze blowing across my face. The first stop I made after the Tahoe got stolen was the Shell Shack, for large, old-fashioned, metal-themed buckets, perfect for picking up shells. Besides being inexpensive therapy, I used them for mulch in the potted flowers around my house. The waves looked tame today and the beach was not overly crowded.

The Cottages looked quiet, but that could be deceiving. We hadn’t had any problems for a while and the sheriff stopped coming around every day for nuisance calls. As I pulled into the driveway, I groaned out loud
. Could there be any bigger spectacle than those two sunning in the barbeque area?
Mac and her friend, Shirl, two overly-endowed middle-aged women, were lying in chaise lounges with either their underwear on, or really short shorts, and tight low-cut tops.

“You have the best boss that you can sit outside and work on your tan,” I told Mac and waved to Shirl.

“I got the phone between my legs,” Mac said as she pointed, “and we’ve got four eyes on the property.” 

The barbeque area, located at the front, was the first thing you saw when you drove in the driveway. If you positioned your chair just right, you could see every cottage and watch the comings and goings from everyone’s front door.

“It’s all quiet around here, well almost, with the exception of him.” Mac crooked her head.

Joseph lay sacked out in a lounge chair that he pulled into his parking space, sound asleep. “What’s up with him?” I asked.

“Drama Queen came screaming, drunk, out of his cottage, yelling, ‘I cut my finger off.’ He doesn’t fool me, he just wanted Shirl to bandage his paper cut so he could look down her top. Men act like they’ve never seen a pair of boobs before. Wait until Svetlana finds out he’s cheating on her.”

“I’m a little disappointed,” Shirl said. “All the stories I’ve heard, and so far no real drama.”

CHAPTER 17

I arrived at the jail visiting center in time to snag a bench in front of the door. The sheriff stood, ready to yell the rules to everyone. Next stop, the metal detectors. I had nothing on me but a key, which I dropped in the box and then I gave them my name in exchange for a booth number. Television screens were lit up and I could see down the row that no inmates had shown up yet. Fab came through the door first; once she sat down we picked up our phones, which started the clock on our twenty-minute visit.

I waved at the screen. “The blue uniforms look better than the ugly orange ones on the men’s side. Can you take the shoes with you when you check out? I’ll put them with the orange pair and get a collection going.”

Fab looked tired, her scary face firmly in place. “Miss you, too. How’s my cat?”

“He’s my cat and he misses you. Jazz’s wondering where his treats are. You have a faint shiner what’s up with that?”

Fab touched her eye. “One of the girls singled me out for a friendly welcome.” 

“And your response?” I knew I wouldn’t get a blow-by-blow of the butt-kicking the girl got because we both knew all calls were recorded. Two signs posted in every aisle gave you a heads-up warning.

“I welcomed her back and let her know I had one friend and didn’t want anymore.” Fab flashed me an evil smile.

“How’s the food?” I’d heard stories from previous visits on the men’s side that it was pretty disgusting.

“Don’t know. The wannabe friend, Bertha, didn’t understand my one-friend policy and I accidentally dropped the runny meat and beans in her lap. She yelped to the guard and I had to hand over my apple. Before handing it over, I licked it and then spit on it so it would be nice and clean.”

“Bertha? I thought that name was only on television shows.” She would do well to find someone else to torment.

“I don’t give a damn what her name is, I’ll call her whatever I want.”

“You have any roommates?”

Fab knew she had to be careful and not get any additional charges. “Cuban girl, quiet, and she shared crackers and some mystery sausage with me after lunch. We’re both in for murders we didn’t commit. You got any news?”

“You’re getting a field trip at the end of the week, another bail hearing. I have it on good authority that they don’t have squat.”

“I wanted to jump out the window when two Miami police officers barged into Harder’s office and arrested me.”

“Is it true about you and Ana Sigga’s husband?” 

“Bastard never mentioned a wife until she walked in on us and introduced herself. Now I have a policy, call me when the ink is dry on the decree. I fell hard once for a man who was separated, supposedly getting a divorce. He used me to get his wife to let him wear the pants in the relationship. And it worked.”

“I had a couple of friends fall for that tired line, never a happy ending. Don’t get comfortable,” I said. “Creole and Brick both sent you friends, whatever that means.”

Fab half smiled. “A few things make sense now.”

“I got appointments to visit you every day this week and every day after that until you get out of here. Bitsy texted me the times.”

Fab raised her eyebrow. “What’s the catch?” 

“Brick has a soft spot for you. He felt generous after I went and picked up a rental for him. The Westin family did the retrieval. Brad turned out to be the star. He’s got career options after fishing.”

“I’m missing the good stuff,” Fab sniffed.