Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 06 - Revenge in Paradise (29 page)

“Nothing personal––I just want to enjoy the time I have left.” Rita looked indecisive, which worked in our favor.

I snorted and Fab glared at me as though reminding me of my manners in this situation. “Can you at least tell us why you want to kill us?” I asked.

“I didn’t mean to bash Eddie’s head in, but when I told him about my HIV diagnosis, he laughed. Then he admitted he had the disease and deliberately slept around with no protection, spreading the love, he called it. I lost my mind. The next thing I know, I picked up the shovel and delivered the first bash to the back of his head and heard a crunching noise.” She smiled. “He went down face first. I didn’t plan to hit him but his stupid moaning reminded me of my test results. I kept hitting him until my arms got tired.”

Fab and I looked at each other wide-eyed.
We didn’t see this coming
.

“You were willing to let an innocent person rot in jail with the high probability that she’d get the death penalty?” I struggled to control my temper.

“You don’t understand. Jami and I are friends, but I saw Eddie first and we’d been together a long time then she came in, hanging all over him. We were getting married. He didn’t even break up with me––just showed up with her,” she whined, her hand shaking. “Besides, I planned to give a full confession right before I died.”

“It’s one thing to be in jail for something you did, but to know you’re innocent and have no hope to get out––” I said in disgust. “Do you know how hard it is to get a conviction overturned? With no proof other than your statement, they’d never reopen the case.”

A couple of cars and trucks had pulled into the parking lot while we stood there, but no one even looked our way; they headed straight into the bar. If they had, all they would see is three women talking.

“Did you lure Edsel to the shed?” Fab asked.

“I got lucky, drove by and saw his crappy car parked in front, figured he lived there. He was easy to locate, yelling, throwing stuff around. Turns out he was looking for stuff to pawn, made him mad he couldn’t get anything more than yard tools. If he got lucky, he knew they’d only bring about twenty bucks.”

Rita wailed, a stray tear on her cheek. “He knew. He knew he was sick and didn’t say anything, he wanted revenge. Mad that he contracted it in prison, all because of a wrongful conviction, his girlfriend crying rape when it wasn’t. Then he told me he never had any intention of marrying me, he used it as incentive so I’d never say no to kinky sex.”

“I know you and Jami were at the shed after you killed him, how did that happen?”
I didn’t know that––but it wasn’t much of a leap
.

“I had already left when I saw her peddling to The Cottages, so I doubled back. I snuck up behind her. She didn’t even scream when she saw him. I bumped her hard hoping she’d fall on him but all she got was blood on the bottom of her shoe. Turns out it was enough. We agreed not to tell anyone what we found and let the police figure it out.”

What did women see in him? Unattractive, creepy personality, abusive, his life going nowhere…

Fab spoke up. “You’re not going to get away with double murder. Edsel was a dirtball, so a prosecutor might offer you a reduced sentence. If you’ve got information about illegal dealings, use it to sweeten the deal.”

“You won’t know a moment’s peace, Rita. My boyfriend will track my killer––you—until he brings you to justice,” I told her. “And when he does, he has connections to make your prison stay a frightening, living hell.”

“Do you really want to spend life on the run?” Fab asked. “I’ve heard the lifestyle sucks, always looking over your shoulder.”

“Since the first day you two showed up here with your nosey questions, I’ve been working on my plan. I’ll get away with it,” she wheezed. “Get in the van.” She slid back the door, motioning with her gun. “I’ve got this all figured out.”

“Do you know how hard it is to dispose of two bodies that won’t lead a trail right back to you?” I inched closer to Fab. Her gun would be easier to draw than my own.

Getting in the truck was a bad idea. We’d be dead before she closed the door.

“I’m going to take you two to the dump,” Rita said, as though the choice was obvious and we were stupid not to know.

Great. Free cremation. Locally, all trash got dumped into a cement building before being scooped into the incinerator with a skip-loader.

“I’m not getting in,” I told her. “You’re going to work for this kill. Good luck dragging our bodies into your ratty van by yourself. I may be dead, but hopefully you’ll live long enough to fry—zzzz.” I imitated the sound of electricity.

Rita flinched, then said, “You’ll get in because if you don’t I’ll shoot your friend right in front of you.”

Fab hit my thigh, a head nod to the front of the van. Rita and I heard the crunch of gravel at the same time, but only she turned, giving us just enough time to draw our guns. Creole stepped out from the opposite side in his cop uniform––blue jeans—holding a Glock, and caught her by surprise. She hesitated in pulling the trigger. He shot her in the upper shoulder before she screamed and dropped her gun to the ground.

In full fury, blue eyes blazing, he jerked her to a standing position, ignoring her screams, and pushed her face against the van, snapping the cuffs on her wrists.

She continued to scream a litany of variations of the “F” word at the top of her lungs. It drew some lookers but no one stepped forward to help.

Creole pushed her face down on the floor in the back of her van. “If you move, you’ll be sorry,” he barked.

He frowned down at me. With a gentle finger under my chin, he lifted my eyes to his and said, “Good thing I was in the area. I’ll see you later.” He wrapped his arms around me and crushed me to his chest, hugging me until I groaned.

A Tarpon Cove sheriff car blew into the driveway and skidded to a stop. Kevin got out, and it surprised me he showed up solo, no partner in tow. He and Creole nodded to one another and Creole disappeared back the way he came.

Fab put her arm around me. “You okay?”

I leaned on her. “We should retire while we’re both still alive.”

Kevin nodded to us and walked over to Rita, yanked her to her feet, and read her rights. Seconds later, two more sheriff cars arrived and a paramedic van. Kevin waited for a stretcher, and the medics strapped her down. “Either of you need medical attention?”

“Take her,” Fab told him, and pointed to Rita.

Kevin slammed the door and the van took off. “I need to ask you some questions for my report.”

It was the first time Kevin showed any sympathy to either one of us in yet another shooting situation, and there were no unfunny comments about dead people. It was evident that Creole had set him straight that he wasn’t a drug-dealing felon and was actually working on the same side as Kevin.

“You won’t have to worry about how to tell Didier about our night.” I nudged Fab.

Fab looked confused.

I inclined my head to the Mercedes that just flew into the driveway.

“I’m liking your boyfriend more and more,” Fab said, and ran to meet Didier who jumped out of the car, whirling Fab off her feet and into his arms.

My eyes fluttered open, the morning sunshine streaming through the small windows, announcing a beautiful day. Lying in the crumpled sheets from the night before, I stretched against Creole’s hard body, snuggling within his arms, my head on his chest. I lay there listening to the rise and fall of his breath, his heart beat pulsing in my ear.

Fab and I had to give several statements to law enforcement regarding the new developments in Edsel Winer’s case, ending up in the district attorney’s office. I blew out a big sigh of relief when I found out that Ana Sigga hadn’t been assigned the case, so the questioning went fast and there was no drama. It would take a few days for Jami to be released, only after detectives verified everything we told them about the murder. Rita wasn’t cooperating, saying she was the victim and that we had tried to kidnap her and she only defended herself.

The next day, it caught me off guard when Fab and Didier had their bags packed by the door and left saying, “See you soon.”

It wasn’t until late the next afternoon that Creole finally burst through the door, sweeping me off my feet. Once upstairs, he tossed me onto the bed and climbed on top, giving me a hot, bruising kiss and, to my dismay, releasing me just as quickly.

“Put on that black wrap dress I like and pack an overnight bag, I have a surprise for you.” He smacked my butt.

“The only surprises I like are the ones I figure out in advance,” I giggled, and rolled away from his outstretched hand.

He tapped his watch. “Be ready in fifteen minutes or I’m leaving without you.”

I sulked. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

He cupped my face between his hands. “Probably not. Now hurry up.” He brushed my lips with his.

It was a warm evening as we set off going south down the Overseas Highway to our unknown destination––unknown to me, anyway. Creole put the little-used convertible top down on the Hummer. I scooted next to him, my head on his shoulder, and he put his arm around me and held me tight, the salty wind blowing in our faces. It didn’t take long to feel fairly certain we were headed to Key West, a very romantic place for us, and I hoped this time wouldn’t be any different.

To my disappointment, he veered off the highway at Stock Island, several miles north of Key West. We wound through the streets to the crystal waters of the Atlantic side, pulling into the exclusive members-only Harbour Club. Creole rolled down the window and pulled a pass from his pocket.

“You know I could’ve snuck us in.” I smiled at him.

The guard nodded and motioned him to a reserved parking space.

“I’m going to see to it that you enjoy every minute,” he growled in my ear, and ran his teeth down the side of my neck, nipping the top of my shoulder.

Creole opened the door and handed the keys to the valet, clicking the locks for the bags. He reached in and pulled me across the seat and out the driver’s side.

Our two bags left on a cart ahead of us. Creole gave me a quick kiss, took my hand in his, and led me down to the dock, stopping at the steps of a pristine three-story white yacht. A member of the crew stood waiting.

“Your luggage has been brought on board and stowed in your stateroom.” The man in crisp white shorts and shirt introduced himself as LaRouche.

I tried not to openly gawk, but I’d never seen a boat this size up close. I looked at Creole in shock and caught the nervous laughter as it was gurgling up.

“I’d be happy with a roll in the sand,” I whispered, before removing my shoes and climbing the stairs.

“You’re so easy to please. You never complain about my erratic hours. I wasn’t passing on having five days with you on a luxury yacht.”

LaRouche ushered us through the salon and to the stern, where a table for four had been set for dinner. Fab and Didier were draped over one another on the couch in a serious make out session, their legs wrapped around each other.

“Fabiana Merceau,” I grouched, imitating Mother. “Where are your manners?”

They both jumped, and when she realized it wasn’t Mother, she squealed and ran over, hugging me. “Isn’t this fabulous?”

Fab had on a skimpy white bathing suit under her sarong cover-up, Didier in swim trunks and a T-shirt that stretched across his chest, in a dark blue that matched his smiling eyes.

I hugged Didier and kissed his cheek. “I’m so happy you two are part of the surprise.” I blew Creole a kiss.

LaRouche appeared, holding a tray with glasses of white wine. We each helped ourselves and sat on the couch toasting the last glimpses of sun over the ocean.

Creole ran his fingers up my back, wrapping them around my hair, and pulled me close. “We have Didier to thank for the invitation.”

Didier swept his arm around. “This belongs to one of my clients and he’s offered the use of it several times and this time I took him up on it. Later, I’ll give you a tour and show you to your guest suite. If you want anything, there’s a button in every room.” He pointed to the wall. “The steward will appear and grant your wish,” he said, and laughed.

I couldn’t wait to see the rest. I’d been on a boat before, but nothing like this. Even Brad’s commercial fishing boat was about half the length. I eyed the hot tub, the steam rolling off the water. I wanted to sit in every room and try everything that even remotely looked like fun.

The dinner rivaled that of a five-star restaurant and Didier told us the chef had prepared a fresh salmon with dill sauce, vegetables, and a surprise for dessert. Music played in the background and we talked about everything but our jobs. After dinner, we moved to double chaises and sipped wine and laughed, enjoying the quiet, no phones ringing, no last-minute emergencies.

Didier showed us to our suites down a long marble hallway. The door opened to a king-sized bed and amazing burl-wood cabinetry. We had an en suite bathroom, every finish top quality, with a moon-shaped bathtub that could seat six comfortably; but the walk-in glass shower was the centerpiece with a dozen jets and bench that had me thinking naughty thoughts.

* * *

“Morning,” Creole said, as he peered down at me under his lashes, eyelids heavy.

I rolled over in his arms, now face to face. “Did you sleep well?” I smiled and kissed his chest.

He hugged me to him, running his foot up my leg, resting on my butt. “I always sleep well with you in my arms. Five mornings of this.” He smiled.

“Did I thank you properly for this amazing surprise?” I linked my hand through his and raised it to my lips kissing his palm.

“It’s really Didier’s surprise, but I’d never passed up a proper thank you.” He pushed me on my back, rolling on top.

Our lips met and reignited the lust from the previous night. I wrapped my legs around his waist as his lips moved to nibble my earlobe. Moving lower to my neck, he was biting gently, feeling my response.

A sudden pounding on the door had us both turning and staring.