Trouble in Paradise (9 page)

I hoped that Tolbert hadn’t been told the grisly details.
“Any talk at the funeral about suspects, or idle chat on what might have
happened?”

“They were tight lipped. Surprised me since that group
gossips about everyone and anything. Raul and I think it was someone with a
hate-on for Cosmo. A few people said the last they saw him, he was heading out
on a trip and never saw him again.”

Brad had said Cosmo didn’t have any enemies, but he must
have had one. “If you hear anything at all, would you call me?”

“Or you can call me,” Fab teased, staring at Dickie.

Stop,
I mouthed.

Dickie recoiled in his chair. “Tolbert deserves a speedy
arrest. He’s a good man and good for The Cove.”

“What do you know about the Rich family?” I asked.

“I didn’t know Cosmo. Raul and I wanted some wild parrots
here at Tropical Slumber. We bought several from Tolbert, then he came over and
helped us set up feeding stations. We’ve been friends ever since.”

“I’d like to have a couple of parrots at my house,” I said.
“But I don’t want as many as Tolbert. What if they’re like cats – you get one,
blink and there’s twenty?”

Necco and Astro came careening around the corner. The two
Golden Retrievers skidded to a stop and sat next to Dickie, tongues out
panting.

“They look great, Dickie.” I scratched both their heads.
Both dogs had been abandoned, left locked in an apartment to die. The local
rescue girl was overwhelmed at the time, so I called Dickie. He jumped at the
chance. Lucky dogs.

“The best day was when they came to live with us. We had
just lost our German Shepherd and it was just what we needed. They’re the best
Frisbee players.”        

I stood up. “You need a favor, call anytime.” Fab had
stationed herself at the front door, her hand on the doorknob. 

Dickie suddenly waved his arms. “I have exciting news. Raul
and I just got approved for a liquor license and we’re having a new Grand
Re-Opening party. I’d like you to come and bring your friends. It’ll be our
night to show off what we can do for your loved ones. We’ve even prepared a
slide show.”

“No way,” Fab hissed behind my back.

“Of course, I’ll come. And I’ll tell my friends.” I almost
choked on my agreement.
Bring people? How would I make that happen?

“Let’s be clear, Dickie.” Fab pointed her finger. “You also
owe me. If I accidentally shoot someone dead, can I drag the body in here and have
you cremate it, no questions asked?”

What little color Dickie had drained from his face. “I… uh…”

“No you can’t.” I gave Fab a push out the door. I turned to
Dickie. “Thank you, I appreciate your help.” 

He closed the door, turned the lock, and threw two bolts.
“He’s making sure you can’t get back in,” I said.

“If I wanted in, I’d shoot the bolts off the door.” Fab made
a trigger finger. “And one more thing, the answer is n-o.”

“What’s the question?”

“I’m not going to the party!”

“Even if I use a favor?”

Fab gave me a perturbed look. “You don’t have favors, you
owe me!”

My favorite tiki sports bar, Jake’s, is lit up with large
multi-colored Christmas lights year round, serves Mexican food and hamburgers
and has a small view of Intracoastal water. Big screen televisions are always
tuned to sports, including one exclusive to NASCAR on the weekends.

I spotted my date sitting in the corner. He looked like a
thug in his well-fitting black jeans, t-shirt, and several days’ facial growth.

Zach pulled me onto his lap. “You look great.” He slid his
hand under my skirt.

He didn’t care what I wore as long as he could stick his
hands wherever he wanted. I covered his eyes. “What color is my skirt?”

“I know what you’re thinking. You think I don’t know the
answer. Red skirt, white t-shirt top, that tight camisole thing, no bra and
that lacy underwear I like.”

“You look like the bad boy that you are.” I kissed him hard
on the lips.

Jake sat a margarita down on the table. “Made it just the
way you like it.”

“We’ll both have our usual,” Zach told him. “Take your
time.”

Jake’s a scruffy dude, who rocks a pair of shorts, with his
year round tan. He packs, and has a 12-gauge Browning shotgun conveniently
located behind the bar. He originally started out as partners with my aunt,
inheriting her half when she died. Elizabeth trusted him and so did I. He
gossiped on a need to know basis.

“What have you been doing that you’re not supposed to be
doing?” Zach pulled open the top of my t-shirt, taking inventory. 

“Kiss me first. And a good one.”

He teased my lips with his tongue. Nibbling, pressing our
bodies closer. “So tell me already.”

“Game of darts first? I win, I’ll tell you after dinner.”

“You’re going to kill sex aren’t you?” Zach groaned. “What
if I win, which I will?”

“I’ll tell you after sex.” I jumped off his lap. “I promised
you my sneaking around days are over. I’ll bore you with details.” We walked
over to the corner of the bar, where Jake recently relocated the dart board
after getting hit in the shoulder with a steel tip dart.

The only game I came close to winning with Zach was darts,
and even with my bumping his arm he still won by several points.

Two games later, Zach took no mercy and beat me both times.
“Look, dinner is ready.” I pointed to the table. “I’ll have another margarita
if you’re driving me home.”

“Careful, I’ll take advantage of you.” Zach picked me up,
walked me backwards, and sat me in my chair. “Eat fast and let’s go make out on
the beach.”

“Let’s skip the beach and go roll around in my big king size
bed.” I slipped out of my flip-flop and ran my foot up his inner thigh.

“Just the two of us? I want you to tell me Fab moved out.”

“Fab moved out.” She wasn’t at home when I left, and I
crossed my fingers she wouldn’t be there when we arrived.

Zach parked in my space in the driveway; Fab’s car was
nowhere in sight. The only light in the house came from the living room. 

“Race you up the stairs,” I challenged as I closed the front
door, pulled my t-shirt over my head and threw it at him.

Zach threw his shirt at my back as we raced up the stairs.

Our clothes ended up strewn all over the bedroom floor in
record time. He picked me up, and dropped me onto the bed, crawling on top.

* * *

Faint rays of light shone through the bedroom window in the
dark morning sky; my favorite time of day when all is quiet and you can hear
the birds talking. Jazz lay sound asleep in the chair I used for reading and
looking out the window.

“What’s new?” Zach asked, propped up on a pillow, on his
side, staring at me.

“Good morning.” I wrapped my leg across his butt. “I got my
concealed permit. I’m working on a private investigator license and had my
first case.”

Zach lay stone still, his deep blue eyes turning to icicles.
“You’re not kidding are you?”

“I said I wouldn’t sneak around anymore. I’m hoping since
I’m telling you about it, you’re still going to be in-like with me when this
conversation is over, and I’m thinking more sex.”

“How about mentioning all of this before it’s a done deal.
What kind of case?” he growled.

“I was hired to find a missing urn of ashes and I did.”

He blinked and started laughing so hard I thought he’d roll
off the bed. “As in a dead person?”

“It’s not that funny.” I kicked him in the butt with my
heel.” I found said urn in record time.”

“Who hired you for that crap case?”

This was about to get ugly. “Brick. I’m working under his
license. A friend of his misplaced their mother and I wasn’t about to turn down
my first job.”

“That criminal thug Famosa?” he yelled.

“It’s your fault. You’d never let me work under your
license.”

“You didn’t give me a chance to turn you down. You never
asked. I don’t want a girlfriend that wears a gun to bed.” Zach pulled me on
top of him.

“This girlfriend saved your life once. Besides, my Glock’s
in the bedside drawer next to your head.” It was Zach’s lucky day when I showed
up uninvited one time, just ahead of a newly released felon who wanted to kill
him. It was the first time I’d ever shot someone and I could still see the
creep lying dead on the floor.

“I’m not worried you’re going to shoot yourself. I’m worried
someone will shoot you. What did your mother say?”

“If you tell her first, I’m going to hurt you.”

“The first time you get hurt, I’m killing you.” Zach wrapped
his fingers around my red curls.

“So we’re not breaking up?” I rolled off him, into the
tangle of sheets.

“Maybe,” Zach pinned me with his leg. “Do you have a good
explanation for lying to my face, telling me Fab moved out? I can hear her
walking around downstairs.”

“You hear good for someone with regular size ears,” I
teased, tugging on his ear lobe.

“Making me laugh doesn’t mean I like what the hell you’re
doing.”

“You said ‘tell me Fab moved out,’ so I did.”

Zach got out of bed. “That’s something your mother would
say,” he said as I watched his naked butt start towards the bathroom.

“How about I wash your back?”

“You’re so manipulative.” He came back and scooped me off
the bed.

“Where’s Grover?” Zach asked.

I handed him a bottle of that nauseous green juice he likes
to drink in the mornings. “I reunited him with his owner. Jazz and I miss him.”
I told him about Tolbert Rich.

“Brick’s firing you today,” Zach told me.

“No he’s not,” I said calmly as I stirred some coffee mix
into a cup.

“He owes me.” Zach was adamant.

“Did you save his life? No? Well I did. Before you get me
fired, you might want to think about what I can buy for a twelve-pack of cheap
beer.”

“Are you threatening me?” His lip twitched in an almost
smile. “Wait. Back up. You saved his life? That would’ve gone around town like
wildfire.”

“Not when your brother is Casio and your best friend Harder
is investigating the case.” I didn’t bother to water down the details, and I
added as much drama as I could on the spur of the moment.

Zach pulled me to him. “Good job. Any case you think might
be a problem, call me.”

“Wow. That’s foreplay talk.” I jerked him by his shirt,
kissed him hard, pushing him against the kitchen island.

He picked me up, my legs wrapped around his waist, setting
me on the countertop.

“People eat there!” Fab yelled, walking into the kitchen.

Fab skidded into a parking space in front of The Bakery Café
and I pulled in next to her. People turned to stare. “Get our usual table
before someone else does,” she told me. “Try to stay out of trouble.”

The last table on the sidewalk was the perfect spot for
people watching.

“You’re served,” Tucker Davis announced, throwing a subpoena
on the table.

Tucker was the smarmiest lawyer in town, and defended the
truly guilty. He had some sort of vague relationship with my aunt, which he
felt made him entitled to everything she owned and, in the past, made it his
mission to cheat me. Zach finally told Tucker that, if I ever even so much as
stubbed my toe because of him, he’d neuter him with a pen knife.

“What respectable lawyer serves his own papers?” I
snickered.

“I was looking forward to this, you pain in my ass.” Tucker
glared.

“What is this?” I perused the legal document demanding my
appearance in his office for a deposition.

“I’m the attorney for Gentry Swain. My client is suing you
for injuries he sustained when you shot him.” Tucker’s new client was Brick’s
wannabe shooter.

I laughed. “I hope you get him off. Gentry walks out of jail
and you’re standing there, enjoying your happy meet and greet. Then there will
be two dead people.”

“This is a slam dunk, you dumb bitch.”

“You really are stupid if you think you’re going to defend
the shooter of Brick Famosa and live. Good riddance,” I said, brushing my hands
together.

Fab set lattes and one pecan roll on the table. “Do you want
me to shoot him?” she asked, tossing her chin in Tucker’s direction.

“Bring it,” Tucker growled at Fab. “I’d love to see the both
of you in prison.”

“Do me a favor, Tucker.” I ripped the subpoena to pieces and
threw them in his direction. “If you live long enough and we run into each
other again, don’t speak to me and I’ll do the same.”

“If you’re a no-show,” he wagged his finger, “I’ll have you
arrested.” Tucker turned, tripped over a chair and then kicked it into the next
table.

“Can’t say it’s been nice knowing you,” I called after him.

“What was that about?” Fab asked, cutting the roll in half.

I eyed both sides of the roll. “I want that half.” I
pointed. “Next time buy two. He’s repping Brick’s shooter.”

“Tucker’s clients are all scurvy but one thing they have in
common is that they have the money to pay his whopping fees. Does this guy?”

“Ten cents, maybe.” My cell phone rang incessantly from the
bottom of my purse, but I was able to answer it after digging it out.

“This is Jake. I need 5K cash bail and a ride home from the
Miami-Dade jail. I have the money to pay you back.”

“I’m on my way.” I threw the phone back in my purse. “I’ll
catch up with you later. Jake got in trouble, so I’m doing a jail run.” I
grabbed my purse and latte and stuffed Fab’s half of the pecan roll in my
purse.

“At least he’s got the payback money and not the payment
plan like Joseph. I want my roll back.”

“You should know by this time to buy two.” I waved.

I could draw a picture of the jail Welcome Center in my sleep.
The same sullen woman sat behind the counter from my last visit. As far as I
could tell, everyone got the same ‘you’re a dirt ball’ treatment. I handed her
the cash, and took a seat in a plastic chair that had been bolted to the floor,
facing the door that released inmates from the booking area to freedom.

After much squirming around in my chair, babies crying, and
family members fighting, the jail door opened for the eighteenth time and Jake
exited looking tired.

“I knew I could count on you.” Jake knuckled bumped me. “The
guard had just tossed me a blue uniform which meant I was being transferred to
max and I broke out in a cold sweat. Then my name got called.”

“Why didn’t you call Arlo?” Arlo’s a bail bondsman, widely
known as a sneaky bastard, with a break-your-legs reputation. He was slight of
build but when he hit you with a lead pipe, you went down. He posted bail when
no reputable company would take your call.

“His interest rates are ridiculous, even for an hour.
Besides, he’d blab it all over town. He’s a stupid girl that way.”

The guard in the shack called and waved to Jake as we walked
past. Police personnel were frequent customers at Jake’s. They tended to
congregate in the far corner of the outside deck.

“You okay?” I asked, once we passed the barbed wire
twelve-foot fencing.

“You’d think I’d get tired of jail. Someone tipped off the
cops that I had a high stakes poker game going on in the back room.”

We got into my SUV and I waited patiently while six sheriff
cars exited the parking lot ahead of me. The first one already had its lights
on and was racing down the street. Traffic on the streets of Miami wasn’t its
usual honk, finger, and go mess, so I could concentrate on the conversation. 

“How long have you been doing that?” I’d heard whispers, but
who cares about card games? Next thing you know the sheriffs will be busting
the hookers out at the Bluebird Bar and Motel on the outskirts of town.

“Long damn time. Your Aunt Elizabeth was a player; that’s
how I met her. When we partnered it went high dollar.”

Auntie, you clearly lived a double life
. “Why after
all this time would someone turn you in?”

“I intend to find out the answer,” Jake said. 

“Sounds personal. So now what?” I asked. “I’m surprised you
didn’t have a cop on payroll to tip you about the raid.”

“You’ve got a sneaky mind. They weren’t local, they’d been
assigned out of Miami.”

“Thanks, I think.” I pulled up in front of the bar.

“Wait here and I’ll get your money.”

He disappeared around the side of the building. In minutes,
he came out the front door and leaned into my car window. “Free eats anytime.”
He handed me an envelope. “Come by mid-day. There’s always an empty pool table.
I owe you anywhere, anytime.” He stood and backed away from the car. “To hear
Fab tell it, you’re a crap driver. Were you on your best driving behavior for
me?”

“Consider the source. Fab’s driving takes some getting used
to. Stay out of trouble.” I waved and pulled away.

Turning the corner, it surprised me to see Mother’s loaner
Mercedes parked in front of my house. A drunk had wrapped her car around a
parking meter in South Beach while she watched from a sidewalk cafe. The driver
had taken out two other cars but, fortunately, he didn’t send any tourists to
the hospital.

“Mother, I’m home!” I kicked the door shut, dropping my
workout bag on the floor under a cane-back bench that only held important items
like keys.

“I’m in here with Jazz,” she called from the other room
where I could hear her soap opera coming from the TV. Another favorite couple
getting their ninth divorce.

I walked into the living room, where Mother sat on the
couch, Jazz rubbing his face on her feet. “I thought you and Jazz had an
understanding to ignore one another?” If she wasn’t careful, her white capri
pants would be covered in black cat hair.

She turned off the television. “As long as he’s quiet, we
get along fine.”

“What brings you here?”

“Family dinner. Brad is joining us at The Crab Shack. I’m
looking forward to a plate of crab legs.” 

“Sounds good.” My phone rang, the screen said Mac.
“Everything okay?” I asked her.

“The sheriff’s here,” Mac said, sounding a bit frantic.

“What now?”

“Barbie and Kibble got into a fight. She threw his clothes
in the middle of the street, he went to retrieve them, and she kicked the hell
out of him.”

I sighed. “Tell me they’re both in jail.”

“No such luck. Barbie took off when she heard the sirens.
Kibble lied to the sheriff despite there being five witnesses. Sheriff Johnson
wants to talk to you.”

“I’m on my way.” I turned to Mother. “I’ll have to take a
rain check. There’s a problem at The Cottages.”

“No way I’m being left out.” Mother grinned as she stood and
flung her purse over her shoulder.

Two sheriff’s cars were parked in front of The Cottages, a
definite street clearer, sending the riff-raff into hiding. “You need to let me
handle this, Mother.” I pulled into the driveway. “If you don’t like something
I do, tell me about it later.”

“Honey, I’ve got your back no matter what you do.” Then,
staring ahead, “Wow, Barbie threw more than his clothes in the road.” Mother
pointed to two broken chairs and an assortment of personal items. “I’m sorry we
missed the fight.”

I parked in front of the office and said, “Brad and I got
lucky on the parent card,” as I shifted into ‘park’ and turned off the SUV. We
walked over to talk to Mac.

“Kevin Cory and Johnson want to talk to you.” Mac pointed
her middle finger in their direction. 

They stood directly across the driveway in front of the
Shiner’s cottage. Lucky for Mac their backs were turned.

“Over here.” Johnson turned around, motioning to me.
“Weren’t you listening when I spelled out ‘no more problems’?”