Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 06 - Revenge in Paradise (11 page)

“I knew you’d show up.” He nodded to me, his brown eyes full of amusement. “But you, I wasn’t so sure,” he said, and stared at Fab.

I tapped her in the small of her back, a reminder not to say anything inappropriate. “Hello, Chief.” I smiled, breezing by him, and took a seat in front of a large mahogany desk. The shelves behind him were filled with books on police procedures.

Harder seated himself behind his desk. “Sit, Miss Merceau.” He motioned to a chair. “Your pacing gets on my nerves.”

The only thing I liked about his new office was the large window, although the view of the parking lot didn’t hold my interest.

“You said this meeting was personal, so that rules out the dead guy. What’s new?” I asked.

“He’s still dead.” Harder laughed, clearly thinking his response funny.

Fab kicked my foot. We stared at him, waiting, neither one of us wanting to be the first to speak.

“This is about my god-daughter, Lizzie. She was engaged to marry this jerk, Dane Thorson, and two weeks before the wedding he disappeared.” He handed over a driver’s license photocopy. The man didn’t take a bad photo—black hair turning gray around the edges, arrogant smile.

Fab leaned over from behind the picture, and snapped her fingers, pointing to the door. She and Harder only tolerated one another because of my friendship with the man and it stemmed from the days from before I knew her when he actively sought to put her in jail for suspected criminal tendencies he had yet to prove.

“They planned to move to the Bahamas right after the ceremony,” he went on. “Hot shot got a job at a 5-star resort as their executive chef, lots of money and perks. Then he disappeared, never even showed up for the job. Hopped a plane to Switzerland and I hoped he’d never return, but he’s back. Lizzie has been mildly stalking him, which worries me––but she wants answers and, so far, he’s successfully eluded her. I’d like to kill him, but I’d rather play golf than sit in prison.”

“What do you want us to do?” I asked.

Fab developed a nervous twitch and started kicking my calf. After the third time, I pinched the top of her leg and didn’t let go until she knocked my hand away. She kicked me one last time, and got up and went to stand by the window.

“I want you to get answers for Lizzie. It would be a breach of ethics to allocate police resources for personal use. The last chief over-stepped and now is banned.”

“What the hell are the questions?” Fab turned and demanded.

“You’re a woman, what would you want to know?” He grimaced and looked sorry he had no one else to call. “I planned to turn it over to Brick, but he told me none of his men would take the job. Said I’d have better luck if I called you myself since you like me better than him.” He gave us a toothy grin.

“That’s hardly an endorsement,” Fab spoke up.

“Since our short stay in your dreadful facilities, we’ve both been ignoring Brick’s phone calls. The next day, Creole stopped by his office for a friendly chat. Brick stopped burning up our phones,” I said. “Is the information correct on the driver’s license?”

Harder shoved a piece of paper across his desk. “Here’s all the pertinent info. I expect a deal.”

Fab stood up. “Tell you what, we’ll bill you triple, then give it to Brick to pay.”

His phone rang. “I’ve got to take this,” he said.

We waved, taking the opportunity to slip out the door.

“Let’s get the heck out of here.” Fab hit the elevator button.

“I’ll call Mac and have her run a background check on Dane Thorson. He’s got a Miami Beach address so let’s do a drive by and check the place out. I’ll knock on the wrong door and see what the neighbors have to say, worked for me in the past.”

“I can’t believe how neighbors will rat each other out so easily,” Fab mused. “Do you think we can expense a quick trip to the Bahamas to check out that angle?”

“Didn’t you hear the word ‘deal’? I think if we put in an award-winning performance we could squeeze the information out of a helpful employee over the phone.”

“We? Just so we’re clear, you take care of the ‘we’ business, and I’ll drive.”

I quickly perused Harder’s notes. “The resort name is the Ocean Club. Harder made a note in the margin. It says, ‘Why?’”

The guard at the main desk asked for our visitor badges. I dropped mine on the counter and signed us out.

“I left mine on Chief Harder’s desk.” Fab maintained eye contact with the man and licked her lips. I thought he’d fall off his stool.

As soon as the door closed, I pulled on the back of her jeans. “Liar,” I whispered. “Empty your pockets.”

She jerked away. “You don’t need me on this job. I’m not interested.”

“Oh,” I clucked, “you lamenting the fact that a gun fight might not break out? You’re thinking, ‘give all the boring jobs to Madison.’”

She scanned the parking lot, unlocking the SUV doors. “Sorry, but yes.”

“I don’t give a damn about how bored you get. Your skinny ass will accompany me every step on this job and if you don’t I’ll tell Creole, Didier, and Mother.”

She scrunched her eyes closed. “That’s mean. All three?”

“I’ll have Creole go last and insist he choke you after he’s done with one of his infuriating lectures where he repeats himself over and over.”

She stared gloomily ahead at the road.

It didn’t take long for Fab to arrive at the address that Harder gave us for Dane Thorson. She circled the building twice and slowed this time around.

“There’s a guard,” she said. “We’ll have to park and sneak in.”

“Pull in. Tell him we’re interested in renting.”

It was an older building, tucked into the middle of a side street in South Miami Beach. It had full amenities but lacked an ocean view.

Fab rolled down her window and charmed the sixty-ish man, gray hair, standing next to the gate arm, clipboard in hand. She asked several questions about life at The Palms, which coincidentally didn’t have one palm tree. They chatted like two old friends; she giggled and batted her eyelashes. I leaned forward and still couldn’t make out one word. Only after a car drove up behind us did the gate arm go up. She turned in the opposite direction of the office.

“If only you had unbuttoned your shirt a little and passed him a few bucks, we could have all the information we want on this Dane character.”

“That’s plan B.”

There were three buildings, which were surrounded by two pools, tennis courts, and a large clubhouse. We parked along the side of building three and loitered outside the electric gate to the underground garage until someone conveniently pulled up, allowing us to walk in behind them.

Once my eyes adjusted to the dark, I scanned the entire parking area. Fab walked the perimeter. “Oh great, none of the space numbers match unit numbers. We’ll need the DMV report so we can track the car that way. I sent Mac a ‘hurry up’ text and haven’t heard back.”

“We’ll come back when Mac gets the reports back, snoop around, and then I’ll charm information out of the old guy,” Fab said as she picked the lock on a door marked,
Building 3 Lobby
.

“Let’s hope he doesn’t die.”

“I’m thinking a little charm and some money, enough that he won’t turn me down. If he jumps on the moral high ground, I’ll pistol-whip him.”

The way the guard lapped up the attention, I had no doubt they’d come to a deal. “What man says no to you?”

“Happened once, maybe.”

“Let’s check out the building mailroom, see what the set-up is, ride the elevator to the third floor. You hold the door, I’ll interrogate the neighbors.” I swept past her into a small area that held two worn couches and a table, the furniture on the shabby side. There were no mailboxes, indicating it got delivered to a more central spot, which I assumed was somewhere around the leasing office.

We rode in silence to the third floor. When the doors opened, Fab asked, “Do you have your nosey questions ready?”

“I’m going to knock on his door first and see what happens.”

I pressed my ear to his door, where the only noise came from a television. I rang the bell and waited, staring at the peephole for any movement. A shadow crossed the opening, lingered for a moment, and then disappeared. Someone was definitely home. I knocked politely, not my usual wake-the-dead banging. Still no answer. I continued down to the end of the hall, to the last door, and rang the doorbell. Another no answer. After trying several more doors out of the line of sight from Dane’s front door, I shrugged in Fab’s direction and gave up.

“Someone’s home at Dane’s condo—just not in the mood for visitors.” I glanced around to see if I missed anything before moving on.

“Let’s go, there’s nothing to find out here. We’ve got to find some busy-body to bribe or a so-called friend who won’t lose sleep over a betrayal in exchange for cash.”

We walked back to the SUV. “Look, your new friend is getting off of work, or so I assume since he has a lunchbox in his hand,” I said.

“Wait here––and not on the driver’s side.” She glared and cut across the driveway.

I wanted to laugh at her. She takes that old saying, “What’s yours is mine,” to a new level. She’s lucky her high-handed attitude didn’t bother me. I couldn’t kick her butt; I’d have to shoot her and then probably no more roommate.

She put her arm around the man’s shoulder and walked with him to an old, but well-preserved, Pontiac. They no longer rolled them off the assembly line, but the black car looked immaculate. Miss Fabiana had a way with older men. I wanted to sneak up and listen, but the chances of her not catching me were zero.

They spoke for a long time and when Fab ran back, I rolled down the window.

“Get me a business card,” she called.

Our less-than-professional business card had grown on us. It had only a phone number because we couldn’t agree on a name, and to make it worse, we didn’t have any ideas. I retrieved one from the console and handed it to her. He backed out and sat idling, waiting on her.

When she slammed the door, I asked, “Does he know you have a gorgeous, hot boyfriend that you’re probably not going to dump for him?”

“Surprised myself and told the truth, recited the details as we know them and told him we only want closure for broken-hearted Sally.”

“Who?”

“How sincere could I sound if I couldn’t remember the girl’s name, so I made up one up? He’s never going to meet her,” Fab sniffed. “If you’ll let me finish, Harold is going to snoop around, see what he can find out, and give me a call. I told him pay would be commensurate with quality. He did give me a freebie: Dane calls himself a celebrity chef but Harold thinks he’s full of it, says he arrogant. Boasted about being hired at Eden Roc.”

“That place gets great reviews. Maybe Harder will spring for a hotel room, massage, and a little dinner. We’ll concoct some story and maybe get to meet Dane Thorson.” I liked my idea a lot. Too bad this wasn’t a Brick job; then we could definitely expense that excursion.

“I have a good feeling this job will be bullet free.”

“Harold was a big break for us. I’m impressed.” I smiled at her. My phone started to buzz. “We need to swing by The Cottages. Brad wants to talk to me.”

“What’s up?”

“Doesn’t say. If it were terrible, he’d be burning up the phone lines.”

When we arrived, we saw that Mac had drawn hopscotch squares in an array of different-colored chalks in the middle of the driveway. Making a spectacle of herself never entered her mind. She stopped and blew a big pink bubble and waved. My bras were not made for jumping around; they were lacy and meant to show off my assets to their advantage.

“She makes me tired.” Fab stared.

“Where did the portable basketball hoop come from?” I pointed to the opposite end of the driveway where Brad and Liam were shooting hoops.

Fab jumped out and headed in Mac’s direction.

I waved at Brad. “You play like an old man.”

He tossed me the ball. “I’ve got to run in and get something.” Since he had an “in” with the owner, he’d been given one of the two waterfront units.

I stepped up close and shot the ball. To my surprise, it went in after it hesitated on the rim for just a moment.

“Good job!” Liam clapped me on the back. “Isn’t this great? Brad picks me up from school and we do something every day, and he helps me with my homework.”

“Wait until he gets all bossy on you,” I said as I brushed his sun-bleached hair back. The cut was on the long side and identical to the way Brad wore his.

Liam laughed. “He’s done that already. I don’t mind so much. He keeps me out of trouble.”

Brad came back, manila envelope in hand. “Here’s a proposal about partnering on the Trailer Court.”

“Whatever this is, the answer is yes.” I turned it over, eager to look inside. “Have you talked to the professor?”

“I liked him, think he’s intelligent, even if he’s not exactly the poster-child for normal.”

“He helped me with my algebra,” Liam said. “Scribbled out my problems on a whiteboard and taught me the tricks on how to solve the formulas. Did you know he used to teach math to ignorant stoops?”

Brad and I looked at each other and laughed. “I’m glad I never had him for a teacher,” I said.

“Crum asked about you and Fab, as in whether you two could be potential girlfriend material,” Brad said. “Took me a minute to recover from the shock and informed him you both had boyfriends who would seriously hurt him, old or not.” His eyes glittered with amusement.

“That’s when he told you, old or not, everything still works,” Liam reminded. “I told him he’d need some pants if he was serious about dating.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if he took your advice?” I ruffled Liam’s hair. “We could fix him up with Mother.”

“I don’t think we can trick her into a blind date for a second time,” Brad said.

Brad and I had gotten tired of her meddling––mostly I’d gotten tired of the annoying ambush dates she kept setting me up on to find me a boyfriend before Creole and I came out of the closet, so to speak. She never took into consideration that, like her mother, daughter also liked the bad boys. Brad and I conspired to turn the tables on her and set her up on a blind date. After that, she hadn’t mentioned marriage or grandchildren.