Murder in Paradise (Paradise Series) (8 page)

I felt bad for Grover, who fell asleep standing up with his head in my lap. I nudged him awake and slid over to the rocker couch. Grover jumped up and lay beside me, promptly closing his eyes. It took self-control not to stretch out beside him and nap.

When Tolbert reappeared, he had more iced tea and an extra glass. An eighties white Cadillac, with large steer horns on the hood, pulled into the driveway. Grover lifted his head, checked the car out, and went back to sleep.

As Tolbert introduced us, Gustav Ivers removed his Fedora. “The dog likes you, that’s a start.” He reached for a glass of tea, four sugars, and lemon slices, making himself comfortable across from me. “Call me Gus.”

Unsure what to say, I kept the “What the hell?” comment to myself.

Gus looked me over. I clearly came up short. “How are you going to evict the drug dealers?”

The heck with good manners.

“I’ll start with this,” I said once I pulled my Glock from my thigh holster. I’d jump up and down later at how smoothly and impressively that went. “And why don’t you call the sheriff to do your dirty work? They might point out that you like to rent to drug dealers since this isn’t your first go-round.”

Tolbert laughed and offered Gus a cookie.

Gus nodded, clicking his dentures. “The sheriff’s part of the problem. They’re putting together a case against Quirky and his sister Vanilla as we speak and by the time they’re done shuffling through the process, I’ll lose my car wash. I’d have evicted them long ago if it weren’t for Quirky threatening to kick my old ass.”

This ought to be good
, I thought.

“Car wash, drugs, maybe you should start at the beginning,” I said.

“Don’t forget the raccoon meat side business,” Gus added. “I hired the Poppins siblings to run my car wash, two doors down from Jake’s bar. I did a little checking on you, heard you might be opening up the poker room. Still a ten percent buy-in? Give me a call. I can keep my mouth shut. I don’t have any friends except Tolbert; the rest are dead.”

The poker room was the worst kept secret; he’s the fourth person who had mentioned it to me and asked why wasn’t it open for play yet? He’d have to check out before getting an invitation.

“The car wash? Clean Bubbles?” That property had caught my interest since taking over Jake’s. Transform that two-block strip and it wouldn’t be a haven for late night entrepreneurs.         

“Before Quirky took over, Clean Bubbles had never been what you’d call a money-maker, but it paid for itself and was all cash. Now it only makes him money. I have a soft spot for the property; it’s my first investment. Now I own the block. In addition to the occasional wash and wax, Quirk-ass and Vanilla sell fresh raccoon meat out of coolers and the occasional assortment of other road kill.” He downed his iced tea, pouring another glass.

“People actually eat that?” I suddenly felt nauseous. “Is that legal?”

“None of it is legal, including the home-grown hydro; Munger bragged he’d been supplying them for a hefty cut.”

Munger, an old curmudgeon, lived in a shack in a woodsy area off the Overseas with a much younger hard-as-nails wife. He was one of the handfuls who boasted that their weed kicked ass. Someone should sponsor a weed-off so they could crown the true champion.

Tolbert spoke up. “Gus got word today from a friend in the sheriff’s office that they started staking the place out, waiting for a new shipment of evidence, and then they’ll raid the place. Supposed to happen soon.”

“I want Clean Bubbles cleaned out today; this week anyway. If you don’t have the nuts to do the job, tell me now.” Gus banged his glass on the table. “You get this done, I’ll sweeten the pot.”

I bribed Grover with another cookie to jump down. I stood, taking a business card out of my pocket. “I’ll go check this out now.”

“This is a cheesy business card.” Gus stared at me.

“It’s got the pertinent information you need to get a hold of me. Leave a message; I’ll get back to you.” I waved to them both. “Call you tomorrow. I’m on my way to get my car washed.”

“Be careful!” Gus yelled. “Quirky Poppins is a mean bastard and Vanilla does what her brother tells her. My guess is that some inbreeding went on there.”

“Miss Madison, if you think you’re in danger, walk away. This old fart can hire someone else,” Tolbert said.

Grover walked me to the Hummer. “Would you eat raccoon?” He sat patiently while I scratched his neck. “No, me neither.”

* * *

I scanned the street before pulling into Clean Bubbles and spotted Johnson and Kevin doing a stakeout half a block down. Two skinny, pale, six-foot bookends approached the Hummer. I’d bet money I was staring into the sullen faces of the Poppins siblings, Quirky and Vanilla.

“What do you want?” Quirky demanded. He’d written his name in black marker on the pocket of his dress shirt, rolled up his sleeves, and was wearing boxer shorts and flops.

Vanilla checked me over, yawned—running her fingers through her knotted hair—and disappeared inside the far stall.

“That’s not very friendly.” I stepped behind my Hummer, not wanting to be seen by the local sheriff. “I’m here with a friendly request for you to pack up and get the hell out tonight.”

“Get out of here before I call the cops.” Quirky stepped forward.

I whipped my Glock from my thigh holster. “Don’t move or I’ll shoot you. Just listen and then I’ll leave,” I hissed. “Put your hands down.”

“I’m not going to forget this.” Quirky glared.

“Sheriffs are across the street staking you out as we speak. Don’t be stupid or you’re going to end up in jail.” I wanted to beat the snotty look off his face. “You have until midnight.” I got into my SUV.

Quirky gave me the finger.

I rolled down the window and yelled, “How does a person know they’re getting real raccoon meat?”

“We keep the feet and tail. Without them you can’t tell the difference between coon and house cat; they taste the same.”

“Let me guess. They both taste like chicken?”

Quirky snickered, “Come back tomorrow, me and Vanilla will still be here.”

“You want to play hardball?” I winked at him. “You’re on.” I rolled up the window, happy the door was locked.

Another crap case.

As soon as I rounded the curve, the sheriff car pulled up behind me, lights flashing. “Get out of your car,” Johnson yelled. “What were you doing at Clean Bubbles?”

I didn’t know who was stupider, the Poppins for committing felonies while they knew the cops watched from across the street, or the sheriff for doing a stake-out in plain sight. Must be Johnson’s idea; Kevin looked bored and irritated.

“Booking an appointment for a detail on the Hummer,” I lied boldly.

Kevin circled the Hummer, looking in the windows. “The tint on this thing is too dark.”

“It’s a rental. You need to speak with Brick Famosa, you know, of Famosa Motors. I have the phone number.”

“No one rents a Hummer,” Johnson said with a tight, phony smile in place. “What’s the daily fee?”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Quirky pull a rope across the driveway, attach a homemade “closed” sign, and jump into a pickup with Vanilla at the wheel.

“My insurance company is paying the bill. Why was I pulled over?” I asked.

“Looked like expired plates, but I was wrong. You’re free to go,” Johnson said. “One more question, you didn’t happen to pull a gun on Quirky back there, did you?”

“Why would I do that? I can pay for the wash and wax.” My phone rang as soon as I opened the door.

“Bad news,” Creole said. “Gabriel got released from custody.”

“Thank you for all your help. We both owe you. I need to call Fab and warn her.”

“Stay in touch,” Creole warned. “I’ll stop by tonight for an update.” He hung up before I could answer.

I hit speed dial, but Fab’s phone went straight to voicemail. “Call me as soon as you get this message. You don’t, all promises are off.”

* * *

Jazz started meowing the second I opened the front door. I picked him up and nuzzled his neck until he squirmed. He’d had enough.

I hit redial all the way home, getting Fab’s voicemail every time. Now I had the Quirky situation to worry over. He’s too stupid to pack and leave town, even with the sheriff watching and making a case for an eventual arrest. My Aunt Elizabeth loved to collect IOUs from people and willed hers to me, along with instructions to get my own. I figured it was time to pull an Elizabeth IOU out of the drawer, since my favor was huge and last minute.

I sat at the kitchen island, laying my cheek on the cool countertop, mulling my choices. I could call Slice, but then Zach would find out. Slice and I had an unspoken agreement that he didn’t hide things from his partner. Evicting coon-meat-selling drug dealers would definitely erupt into a fight. My only other choice was Jimmy Spoon, Mother’s boyfriend; it felt sneaky but I knew Spoon would never rat me out. I met him dropping off Zach’s 1957 convertible Thunderbird for maintenance, a car that circled the block a few times only to go right back to its parking space overlooking the water, behind locked gates. Spoon told me he could fix “anything.” Time to put those skills to the test.

Spoon answered on the first ring. “You in trouble?”

“I need those ‘fixer’ skills you once boasted of, the sooner the better. I’m willing to part with one of my coveted Elizabeth IOUs.” I reached in the junk drawer and took out the aspirin bottle; I had too much on my plate to entertain a banging headache.

“This ought to be good.”

I related the entire story, ticked off the felonies, and gave him a heads up on the ever-vigilant Sheriff Johnson. I also mentioned Gus and Tolbert were friends, knowing that Spoon had a high regard for Tolbert Rich.

“Make it clear it would be bad for Quirky’s health to bother Mr. Ivers ever again,” I said.

“Problem taken care of. Give me a couple of days; I’ve got one favor ahead of yours. One day most of the people in this town will owe me.” Spoon laughed. “The Poppins riffraff can go peddle their illegal meat and weed somewhere besides The Keys. You keep the IOU. This job is going to require my personal touch. I’m going to ask Quirky how he’d like to be skinned and served on someone’s dinner plate. Call you when the job’s done.” He disconnected.

I shuddered at Spoon’s words, happy to not be Quirky. I redialed Fab and got more voicemail.

I hit speed dial again. “Gabriel’s out of jail and Fab’s not answering her phone,” I told Mother.

“I’m on my way, we can worry together.”

CHAPTER 12

“I brought food!” Mother yelled, kicking the front door closed. “Heard from Fab?”

Mother rocked at to-go food. “Gabriel’s got her, I know it.” I went straight to the kitchen counter and lifted the lid on some great smelling grilled tilapia.

“What if Fab’s out committing felonies?” Mother took out the shell dinner plates from the cupboard, and handed me one.

“If she’s out setting fire to her life, we’re not going to catch fire with her. Burglarizing houses and grand theft is a line I will not cross.” I grabbed a pitcher of cold water that I’d filled earlier with oranges and strawberries to give it several hours to ferment.

Mother gave me a sympathetic smile.

“Why are you so calm? It’s like you know more than you’re saying.” She’d better not say “Zach,” or I’d flip.

“I have a little confession, since I got caught red-handed.” Mother’s cheeks turned pink. “Creole stopped by to take me to lunch. While he showered I snooped through his briefcase. He left it open and on the top lay a file about Gabriel and Fabiana. Before I got to the last page he snuck up on me.” 

My cheeks burned with embarrassment for her. I gasped. “What did you say?”

“Can I at least read the last page? Pretty nervy, even for me.” Mother shook her head. “He told me to read fast. Then he put his finger under my chin and forced me to look him in the face. He asked, ‘Should I lock my briefcase in the future?’” Mother sipped her water before continuing. “I told him yes. How’s that for honesty? I know it surprised him. He took my hand and we walked to that new bistro, Chez Nous. He never said another word, which actually made me feel worse.”

“Aww.” I pushed back the kitchen stool and hugged her. “I should call Creole and let him know what’s up. I can’t call Spoon; he’s busy doing me a big favor.” I told her about the Poppins siblings.

“I’ll have to do something extra nice for him,” Mother winked.

I crossed my fingers in an X to ward off any visual images. “No details, not even a hint. Fab would never forgive me if I called Zach. Their relationship is rocky at best. It’s hard to believe they were once lovers.”  I called Creole; it went directly to voicemail, so I left a message.

“When the heck were those two doing it?” Mother fumed. “Why am I always the last to know?” 

“It happened long before I met Zach and Fab. She once told me they had a better working relationship when they took sex out of the equation. Zach’s problem is that he never meant for Fab and I to become friends and has never adjusted.”

“How are you and Zach doing?” Mother smoothed my hair, pushing it behind my shoulders.

“He’d like it if, when he issued orders, I followed them no questions asked. We fight about stupid stuff. He wants me to commit to living together when we haven’t even said ‘I love you.’ As much as I enjoyed being Jax’s wife, let’s face it—I sucked at it.” I sighed and covered my face with my hands.

Mother patted my head. “Listen to me: Jackson Devereaux started out being a great husband and then one day decided his marriage no longer mattered to him. It takes two--and he checked out.”

“I hear you, but I wanted so badly for it to work and it still feels like one of my biggest failures. I’m not interested in a second one.” 

“Come on.” Mother took my hand and led me into the living room. “There must be some awful movie we can watch on television.”

I took my Glock out of the desk drawer and put it under a magazine on the coffee table. “When you get tired you can sleep in my room; there’s a gun in the bedside drawer. I’m going to sleep down here.”