Trouble in Paradise (11 page)

“Just because I asked Slice not to kill anyone, he was
supposed to make it clear they were never to come back. Fingers crossed that
the bus is an easy fix. The inside needed a makeover anyway. The seats were
uncomfortable and falling apart.” I grabbed the last clean apple slice.

“We’re not one step closer to even a possible suspect for
Cosmo’s murder,” Fab said. 

“I don’t have a good feeling about this one. We need to be
careful. It took out of control rage to beat Cosmo that way. And I think it’s
definitely a ‘he’ that we’re looking for.”

“I agree. We haven’t started poking the hornet’s nest yet
but, when we do, neither one of us leaves home without our guns,” Fab said.

“The few people I’ve asked would never tell that I’d been
asking questions. Word is no one even mentions Cosmo’s name.” I scooped up Jazz
and headed up the stairs.

“A few well-placed threats will get us what we want,” Fab
called up the staircase.

Damn Boyd Lincoln’s men for invading the peace and quiet of
the Wild Bird Farm. Half of the parrots that had lined the tree limbs on my
last visit were gone, probably scared off by last night’s antics.

Grover came running at the sound of my SUV, sitting patiently
for me to open the door.

As soon as I put my feet in the ground, he jumped up to lick
my face. “Sit,” I told him and bent down wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Happy to see you didn’t forget me.” I scratched his neck.

Tolbert walked over, looking relieved to see me. “What a
mess.” I pointed to the charred remnants of the bus, the burnt smell filling
the air. “A friend of mine is on his way over to assess the damage. If anyone
can fix it, it would be Spoon.”

“I’ll have to cancel Sunday,” Tolbert said sadly.

“We’ll get you a loaner. You’d be surprised what can be
borrowed.” I squeezed his hand. “So what happened?”

We settled in the wicker chairs on the front porch, and I
grabbed an extra pillow. A tray with a pitcher of tea, glasses, and a bowl of ice
sat on the table. Grover laid his head in my lap, nudging my hand for
continuous petting.

“Boyd showed up here last night with his band of thugs. Not
sure what he wanted or how far they were willing to take their plan. They
succeeded in scaring the heck out of me,” Tolbert said, still looking shaken.

“What about the kids? The animals?”

“My grandchildren slept through everything. This morning, I
distracted them on the way out of the driveway so they wouldn’t see the bus. No
problem with the animals, everyone comes in at night. Cats stayed in the house
today; they’re asleep on the bed. Whenever I leave the property, I take Grover
with me.”

I held an ice cube out to Grover and he snatched it up. Fab
would be happy to hear he still loved ice. And I thought she was crazy feeding
him ice. “I’m sorry they came back. They set the fire and left?”

“Boyd and one other man came to the back door, fiddling with
the knob. I didn’t wait for them to kick it in or shoot the locks off. I racked
my shotgun, which you know is an unmistakable sound. Next thing, Boyd’s partner
in crime yelled, “Let’s get out of here!”

“Good thinking with the shotgun. That sound stops anyone
with half a brain.”

“It was only filled with buckshot.”

“Owwey if you get a butt full.” I refilled my iced tea. “I
feel like I let you down.” They don’t get to terrorize an old man or worse. I
don’t give my word and not keep it. “It was spelled out very clearly to them,
not to come back. Did you report them to the sheriff?”

“Boyd called right before the sheriff and fire department
arrived. He told me he’d blow up my house with me and the kids in it if a
sheriff came snooping around.”

“I keep my promises,” I said. “Boyd Lincoln won’t be back.”

“I uh…,” Tolbert started.

A large flatbed maneuvered its way into the driveway. Three
beefy men hopped out. Two of them were bald, looking like relatives of Mr.
Clean, complete with hoop earring. The other one was rail thin and looked mean
as stink, as my grandmother would say. I assumed Spoon had workers but I’d
never seen any.

Grover stood up and planted himself between me and Tolbert.

“Those are friends of yours?” Tolbert whispered.

“I can’t vouch for the bald twins and the other one, but the
one who just got out of the pickup truck smokes cigars with my mother and is a
good guy, as long as you don’t screw him. Come, I’ll introduce you.”

We met Spoon halfway. “Thank you. This is Pastor Rich.”

They shook hands. “My cousin Lolly is a regular of yours,”
Spoon told him. “I think she has a crush.”

“Lolly is a lovely woman,” Tolbert told him.

“No she isn’t, but I appreciate your saying it anyway.”

I bit my lip not to laugh.
I couldn’t wait to meet Lolly.

“A quick look over tells me your bus is toast. I’ll haul it
away and see if there’s anything salvageable but I highly doubt it. I did make
a couple of calls just in case and I have a line on a used school bus.”

“We’re lucky to cover expenses. Even a used bus isn’t in the
budget,” Tolbert said.

“It wouldn’t kill me to do something nice, especially for a
church. You put in a good word for me; maybe wipe a sin or two off my long
list.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Tolbert touched Spoon’s arm.

“Oh I do,” I said. “That would be great. I can get some
contributions for this bus. And he needs it for Sunday, or a loaner, please.”

“Madison,” Tolbert whispered. “I couldn’t ask…”

“The loaner will be here Saturday night.” Spoon winked at
me. “I’ll have it picked up Sunday night. Your permanent ride may take a couple
of weeks to locate and for me to make sure it’s in good running order.”

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Tolbert said.

“Just remember the absolution prayers. Don’t thank me, thank
her. She can get all the crusty men in The Cove to do her bidding. Generally,
they don’t mind. The bus is loaded, so we’re off.” Spoon shook hands with Tolbert.
“Here’s my card, you’ll be hearing from me.”

“Thank you, Spoon.” I smiled.

“Oh you so owe me.” Spoon laughed and walked to the tow
truck.

“Thank you,” Tolbert called. “What do you owe him?” He
looked worried.

“A favor of some sort. Don’t worry, no sex, nothing illegal.
I’m so excited that you have a bus for Sunday. When I first met Spoon, he told
me he could fix problems and he’s a man of his word.”

“What’s up?” Slice put me on speaker.

“Unfinished favor business,” I snapped at him. “I thought
you were this big scary guy, you look at someone, and they run to the next
state.”

“I have those super powers. What happened?”

“Remember the guys you moved out of Pigeon Key? Well they
came back last night, set fire to Tolbert’s church bus and then attempted to
break into the house while his grandchildren were asleep.”

Total silence. “I’ll take care of it. You tell the preacher
that there will be no more late night visits.”

“I don’t know where they went.” I wouldn’t want to be Boyd
and his crew.

“I don’t need directions.”

“Thank you, Slice. Your IOU has been reactivated.” We hung
up.

Could a person mainline caffeine? My SUV magically appeared
in front of The Bakery Café. My plan included a double caramel latte, extra
whip and a cinnamon roll. And not one of those new bite-size ones either. Today
called for jumbo size.

Tucker and I both had the same thought about needing coffee,
and we came face to face as I got out of my car. “Oh look, you’re still alive.
When’s your shooter going to trial?”

“Gentry Swain died in jail two days ago,” Tucker said.

“You must be next. Not nice knowing you,” I said and tried
to go around him.

“I dumped him as a client a few days prior to his murder.
The Famosa brothers had nothing to with him being gutted.”

Tucker had my attention now. “I take it he wasn’t able to
make friends in jail?”

“Gentry marched to the voices in his head and they
continually gave wrong turn messages. He dated a Southside gang member’s sister
and was given clear cut instructions to stay away. Apparently, she didn’t get
the same memo and went to visit him and he was found dead the next day.”

“Thanks for the update.” I didn’t mean a word of it, but
what does one say?

“After our conversation, I cancelled the subpoena. I knew
you wouldn’t show up anyway and decided Gentry could find himself another
lawyer. If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll tell people you’re a psychotic
liar.” Tucker looked me straight in the eye for an extra beat or two, then
turned and practically ran down the sidewalk.

“A few bucks for food?” a homeless woman asked, lounging
nearby on the sidewalk on a ratty purple beach towel.

Turning, I stared into the eyes of Apple Manning. I once
referred to her as the sympathetic drunken muse of my ex-husband, Jackson
Devereaux or, as my family called him, Dickhead. “Apple? Are you homeless?”

“Things didn’t work out between me and Elmore.” Apple’s
looks had changed dramatically.

When I first met her, years back, she’d been a vibrant
brunette. Now her hair had thinned considerably and hung in a greasy mess; her
complexion yellow-grey, eyes sunken.

“Come on, I’ll get you a meal.” In the past, I had actively
disliked this woman, but none of that seemed to matter in the moment.

“Food makes me sick. I want money for cigarettes and liquor.
Not beer. It fizzes around in my stomach, causing an explosion, then I heave
and get bad shakes.” Apple held her stringy hair in one hand off her neck. “I
lost my scrunchy.”

“I’ll give you money if you do something to help yourself.
Use my cell phone to call your mother. She’d help you.”

Fear drained Apple’s face of all color. “She… she’d help me
right into the mental hospital,” she stuttered. “I didn’t think I’d get out of
the loon bin the last time. It took four months, until I convinced the doctors
I’d be their puppet and do what I was told, and wouldn’t have an independent
thought.”

The commitment law in Florida is a little too easy in my
opinion. “You have substance abuse problems, you’re not mentally ill. How did
she get away with that?” I’d heard stories about how controlling her mother
could be, but commitment took it to a new level.

“She’s a registered nurse, knows everyone at the local
hospitals and she’s a woman who always gets her way,” Apple said, clenching her
hands together to control the shaking.

“What about your sisters?” Those two were both functioning
drunks, somehow managing day jobs while being hung over every day.

“No thanks. I’ll just take the money.” Apple held out her
hand. “If they find out where I’m at, they’ll tell her.”

“There’s a convenience store on the corner, let’s walk over
there.” Buying liquor for a drunk seemed wrong but I couldn’t bring myself to
go all high and mighty and say no. “What happened with Elmore?” He was an older
man she met at the Jumpin’ Croc bar, a hangout for undesirables. In exchange
for house cleaning and sex, he’d keep a roof over her head.

“As long as he stayed drunk, we got along good. One day, he
decided to sober up, and then he couldn’t stand the sight of me, no matter how
hard I tried.” Apple started to cry. “He slapped me around some; it got to
where I could stand the pain. He never hit me in the face, so I could cover my
bruises with clothes. One day he came home and beat the hell out of me, drove
me into Miami, and shoved me out of the car.”

“You’re not my favorite person; it’s hard to get the image
of you rolling around on the floor with my husband out of my mind. But leaving
you standing on the corner with a bottle doesn’t seem right.”

“You were always way too nice. I took advantage and Jax was
worse.”

The sympathetic look on her face made my jaw clench. We
entered Lucky’s, which was run by a quiet Asian couple. They didn’t tolerate
any trouble. Both packed and everyone around knew it. Mrs. Lucky had shot dead
two would-be robbers.

Apple chose a cheap carton of cigarettes and a bottle of
dark rum. “Do you mind if I get a crossword book and a pen?”

That’s what shocked me about her. Apple was the only person
I knew that could do the Sunday crossword with no cheat books by her side.

“Get a new scrunchy,” I said.

“If it eases your mind any, I don’t want help. I’ve gotten
used to life on the street and found myself a safe place to sleep. What you
just bought means I can take a couple of days off panhandling.” One step out of
the door, she unscrewed the top off her rum and took a long swig. “I have a
business proposition for you.”

The whole encounter with Apple depressed me. This ought to
be good. “Let’s hear it.”

“I hear stuff and I’m willing to sell you the information
when I get something good.”

“What kind of stuff?” I refrained from rolling my eyes.

“Here’s a freebie for what you just did for me.” Apple wiped
her mouth with her fingers. “That snotty-ass Kyle kid snuck up on Miss January
while she was sleeping, took her cat and threw it in that ugly orange flowerpot
across the street from The Cottages. In front of that rental house that’s now
vacant.”

“You heard this how?”

“Stupid kid can’t keep his mouth shut, he’s bragging to all
his friends. I always liked Miss J. You can go get the dead ratty thing back
for her.”

There wasn’t enough caffeine for this day. “Seriously, thank
you. Miss January is special to me. I’ll retrieve the cat and take care of
Kyle,” I told her. I reached in my purse and handed her a cottage business card
and cash. “You call me, I’ll pay.”

“I’ll keep this but I don’t have access to a phone. I’ll
leave a note at the office and let you know what corner I’m working. Promise me
you won’t tell anyone anything I ever tell you. I don’t want to get beat up or
worse.” During the whole conversation, she constantly looked around, switching
from one foot to the other.