Madison Westin 02-Deception in Paradise (13 page)

I braved the traffic to Harder’s office in Miami. Only one person gave me the finger. Cruz had promised to be on time and meet me in the lobby. We’d have to sign in and go through the metal detector. I was already on edge when I lucked out and found parking in the front of the building.

I sat in my SUV and dialed Fab. “Where’ve you been?”

“Israel flew back in to put the finishing touches on his new album. I just dropped him at Miami International. He exhausts me; I can barely keep up. He burns twenty hours a day.”

“Are you up for a girlfriend lunch and some shopping therapy?”

“Always. Anyone in custody for the murder?”

“I wish. I’m here at police headquarters for a meeting with Harder and Cruz.”

“Don’t mention my name,” Fab reminded me. “Harder thinks I’m a criminal. Frustrates him, he lacks proof.”

“Imagine that. Someone thinking that about you.”

“I’m ignoring you. Call me when you’re done and we’ll meet.” Fab hung up.

* * *

I sat at the conference table, a pained smile pasted on my face. Cruz told me to pause before answering Harder’s questions, giving him time to object. He wanted only yes or no answers, and if that wasn’t possible, then use as few words as possible.

Harder was of average height, tightwad haircut, and carried himself with a rigidity that suggested a military background. He slid into the chair opposite me, with a well-used legal pad containing notes scribbled erratically. “So, sweetie.” Harder’s dark eyes bore into mine. “We’re here to discuss the murder of Pavel Klaus and what you know about the events of that night.”

“Really, Harder,” Cruz reprimanded. “
Sweetie
is unprofessional.”

The look in Harder’s eyes told me that it was game on. To my credit, I managed to stay calm, phony smile in place.

Harder ignored Cruz. “Were you on the boat the night of the twenty-fifth?”

“Stupid questions are beneath you,” Cruz said.

Harder looked at me. “Answer my question.”

“No.”

“Can anyone corroborate that?”

“You have verification in all of the various reports from that night, and if you need more, then contact the Coast Guard or any of the agencies that responded,” Cruz said.

“You gave your boat to Jackson Devereaux to joyride in, and you want me to believe you were nowhere around?”

“I wasn’t there,” I said.

“How did he get the keys?”

If only I could throw up on him. I looked at Cruz and he nodded his head to answer. “He took them off the key rack in my kitchen.”

“So he stole the boat?”

“He didn’t have my permission to take the boat,” I said.

“Have you filed theft charges?”

Cruz interrupted, “Check the report; it was noted that Devereaux didn’t have permission to take the boat. I spoke with Mr. Westin, and he’s declined to pursue theft charges.”

I didn’t remember anyone ever calling Brad “mister” before; he’s such a laid-back guy.

“Why would you let someone who doesn’t have a driver’s license drive your boat?” Harder’s voice rose.

Cruz cut in, “Driving a boat doesn’t require a license.”

“Still, your husband isn’t fit to drive a car, but it’s okay for him to kill someone with a boat?” Harder asked.

“He has a license. I have a copy here.” Cruz took the paper from a file and handed it to Harder.

“The Florida license was revoked when they ran a check and discovered the DUI conviction in South Carolina and that his license had been revoked there. He currently has an ID card. How did that escape your notice? Let me guess, if I ask you if you knew he was wanted in South Carolina, you’d tell me you didn’t know that either.”

“That’s not a question,” Cruz pointed out.

“Did you know he was on the run?” Harder asked.

Cruz had known that question would be coming, and he had warned me to be vague. “I didn’t know.” I was nauseous, my stomach kicking nonstop.

“Did you know your husband is a drunk? That he liked to drink and drive? Amazing he hasn’t killed anyone yet, or maybe he has.” Harder smirked.

“For the record, Harder, Jackson Devereaux is her ex-husband,” Cruz stated. “Madison hasn’t had contact with him from the time of their divorce until he arrived in town.”

“Duly noted. Did you know Pavel Klaus?”

“No,” I said.

“Did you know any of the other people on the boat?” Harder questioned.

“Only Jax.”

“Do you have anything to add about the night of the accident?”

“No.”

“Okay, Harder, we knew this would be a waste of time, but you insisted,” Cruz said. “Miss Westin wasn’t there; she doesn’t know anything. Is there anything else?”

“Where’s the boat?” Harder asked.

“Why?” Cruz countered.

Harder pulled a folder from under his legal pad. “I have a subpoena to pick it up and impound it as evidence.” Harder handed Cruz the paperwork. “If Miss Westin doesn’t have anything to hide, she’ll cooperate.”

“Of course she’ll cooperate,” Cruz assured him. “Where’s the boat, Madison?”

“It’s at Marone’s boatyard in The Cove,” I informed them.

“Has he started work on the boat?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll call Marone and tell him to stop any work. The boat will be picked up within the hour.” Harder picked up his phone and called to give the order to execute two warrants.

“It’ll be towed to the police storage yard today,” Harder told us.

“When do I get it back?” I asked. What did he mean by two?

“When the case is over. It could be a year or more; your lawyer knows how cases can linger on the court docket.”

I wanted to slap the smile off his face. How would I explain that to Brad?

“And here’s a copy of the search warrant for Ms. Westin’s house.” He handed another piece of paper to Cruz. “They’re being executed as we speak. The searches should be over by the time she gets home.” He looked at me. “Sorry for any mess.”

“So that’s why you had us come to your office. You’re a real bastard. But then, you know that,” Cruz said.

“You’re having my house ransacked?” I screeched. “What about my cat? He’s old.” I picked up my phone and called Fab.

“You can’t use your phone in here.” Harder motioned for me to put it away.

“Where are you?” I asked Fab.

“On my way back to the Cove.”

“I said put it away,” Harder yelled.

“Harder is having my house searched, and I’m worried about Jazz.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

I pressed
End
. “Look.” I held up my phone. “I’m putting it away.”

“You hang out with the cream of the crap, and you want people to believe you’re Snow White. It doesn’t work that way. In my experience, you’re no better than the people you associate with.”

“Do you have any more relevant questions?” Cruz asked. “If that’s all, I have another meeting.” Cruz slammed the lid of his briefcase, snapping the locks.

“Sweetie, you’ll be hearing from me again. You can count on that,” Harder told me.

“You know Ms. Westin has counsel. Contact my office, and I’ll make her available.”

“You and I both know I don’t have to go through you. I can do what I want and inform you afterward.”

“I’m playing golf with the chief tomorrow. I’ll inform him of your unprofessional behavior,” Cruz said.

“Go ahead. He already knows I’m an unrelenting bastard. What’s he going to do about it? I’m good at my job, and I put killers behind bars. I don’t have a single unsolved case in my file.” He stood up. “Sweetie.” He nodded at me and walked out of the conference room.

“Where’s Devereaux?” Cruz whispered. “At your house?”

“He might still be at Marone’s, helping with the boat. My mother relocated him to The Cottages.”

“I’m surprised Harder didn’t ask about his whereabouts.” He pulled on my arm. “Listen to me. Stay away from your ex, and then you won’t be put in any awkward situations.”

“Don’t worry.”

“Another thing, don’t go playing Nancy Drew with Fab. Don’t get me wrong. I like Fab, but she’s crazy all day long.”

I nodded. I couldn’t promise that with a straight face.

“Don’t give Harder any reason to harass you. Look, I know Harder, and you’re not a serious suspect. This was a jerk-around session so he could execute the warrants without any interference.”

“I’m hoping once this is all over, Jax packs up and leaves town.” I told him.

“These kinds of meetings are a waste of my time and your money.” Cruz snapped his briefcase shut.

CHAPTER 18

“What are you doing?” I asked Fab. She was sitting on the floor with Jazz, rolling a ball at him. He looked bored.

“I thought it would be fun to play catch.”

I laughed so hard I thought I’d fall off the stool. “That’s the best laugh I’ve had all week.”

“It has catnip,” she said. “The guy at the pet store picked it out.”

“If you get Jazz to play catch, fetch, or whatever, I’ll buy dinner for a week.”

She glared at me. “I ate your salmon, enjoyed every bite.”

“Zach cooked dinner for me.”

“Ah, lovebirds!”

“I know you’re making fun of me.” I made a face at her. “But it was nice to spend a quiet evening together. I did suffer momentary guilt over turning off my phone, but who can relax and have spontaneous sex if she’s thinking the phone might ring?”

“Eww. I arrived as Kevin and his posse were leaving. Kev said Jazz didn’t get off the chair.”

“Probably resting up for his play date with you.”

She glared at me and fed Jazz one of her leftover peas. He spit it back at her.

“How bad does the upstairs look? Down here, it doesn’t look like they were even here.”

“Kev was the lead. He wouldn’t tell me what they were looking for. He did ask where Boner was.”

“You’re not funny,” I said. “I’m just going to ignore you. Did the police take anything with them?”

“No, and I was surprised. They did ask where Mr. Sir slept.”

“Thank heaven for Kevin. That’s why my house wasn’t tumbled. Nothing in this house belongs to Jax. I got rid of all his stuff the other day.”

“Where is he?”

“My mother relocated him to The Cottages.”

“I love your mother.”

“Wait until she decides to manage your life and you’ll rethink that thought.”

When the doorbell rang, Fab asked, “Who’s that?”

I looked out the window. “Dickie.”

“The creepy funeral guy?”

“Yes.” I started for the door. “You stay right there and don’t even think about sneaking out the back. Sit back down.” I pointed to the stool.

Fab made a face. “Why didn’t you give me a heads-up?”

“Didn’t you have a big funeral today?” I asked Dickie as he walked in.

Dickie saw Fab sitting in the kitchen. “She scares me,” he whined.

“You’re not wanted, are you?”

Fear crossed his face. “No.”

“Then you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Pavel’s memorial service was earlier,” Dickie said. “Afterward, Mr. Byce catered lunch. Turned out larger than your Aunt Elizabeth’s funeral, but everyone there knew her. Most of the people who came today didn’t have a clue.”

“Word flew around town that Sid Byce was catering from The Wharf,” I said. “No one around here passes up good food that’s free. Funeral or no.”

“A reporter from the local paper was there, and she told me I gave her good quotes,” he said with excitement. “I’ll be at the newsstand first thing in the morning to get all the copies.”

Fab snorted and shook her head.

“The girlfriend blew up two pictures of Pavel to poster size. She had them framed and sitting on easels up on the podium in place of where the coffin would’ve been. I had the urn displayed on a smaller table with the flowers.”

“Her name is Kym,” I said.

“Crazy girl all strung out, hanging onto another girl. She told me she was poly something, and I think she meant lesbian.”

I shrugged. “I haven’t met her.”

“I felt sorry for the dogs,” Dickie said.

“What dogs?”

“Kym brought Pavel’s dogs, and they sat in front of the pictures of him and howled, very sad. The noise they made was pitiful. Raul and I wanted to take them outside and play with them, but we had to wait until after the service was over.”

“What kind of dogs?”

“Two Golden Retrievers.”

Nothing good ever came of drunks having pets. At some point, the pets always ended up neglected.

“You shipping Pavel’s ashes to his mother?” I asked.

“His mother gave permission to split the ashes. Kym took her half; she originally wanted to sprinkle them where they pulled him from the water, but instead headed to the Gulf. I told them they needed to go out past the mouth of the inlet and one of her friends, rail thin, jittery guy, told me I was stupid. The other half I’m shipping to the Czech Republic. Mr. Byce picked out a beautiful urn.”

“That was generous of Pavel’s mother.” It saddened me to think about a mother mourning the loss of a son or daughter.

Dickie nodded. “Cremation was a good choice; he was in bad shape with half his head missing, and a few places on his body were pretty well gnawed, where some kind of fish had chewed on him.”

“Dickie, we don’t need the details.”

“I understand cremations, but I prefer a traditional burial. I’m the artist, and Raul is the businessman. That’s one of the reasons why we’re so good together. My favorite part is the dressing, the hair, and makeup. I do my best to make everyone look natural. This one would’ve been difficult.”

“Any talk about who might’ve killed Pavel?” Fab asked.

“No one even whispered the word murder. They all acted like they do when an old person dies of natural causes.”

“Where was he shot?” Fab asked.

“In the back of the head.”

“Someone shot him from behind?” Fab murmured. “That’s cowardly.”

“Mr. Byce is convinced that your ex-husband is the guilty party. I saw Byce yelling at Kym and her girlfriend, and Kym started crying. Right after that, the two girls stuffed sandwiches and cookies in their purses and snuck out the side door. I watched from the window. They went the wrong way and had to cut through the tattoo parlor parking lot.”