Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 06 - Revenge in Paradise (28 page)

Didier pulled on a strand of my hair. “You and Creole are well-suited. He’s a good guy, for an American.”

I got out wine glasses, setting us places at the island. Didier poured from a bottle of red wine he picked up.

“I know some people think it’s all about sex but I think he and I have potential,” I confided. “He doesn’t try to change me. Today, Fab and I should have made better choices, we need to agree on how to handle these unsafe areas for the future, guaranteed it won’t be our last. I should’ve been more vocal.”

“She says you’re like a sister to her.”

“The best day was when I met her and we became friends. I was a bit lonely here by myself. In truth, I didn’t mind that she moved in. I had never entertained the idea of a roommate; I would have been more likely to fill the house up with cats. At one time, I thought about fixing her up with Brad and I’m glad I didn’t. I figured out he needs easy-going, not dramatic. Besides, I wouldn’t have met you.” I winked.

“Are you really okay about my moving in? I didn’t want to ask in front of Fab and embarrass her. I’ll bet she never mentioned it, did she?”

“You’re like the boyfriend who slept over a few nights and never went home.” I laughed. “You can’t go anywhere now. You’re family and your leaving would ruin our foursome. That’s why those two have to get along.”

We stood side by side at the kitchen sink; he rinsed and I stacked the dishwasher. Jazz wandered in and meowed at his feet. Didier retrieved tuna from the refrigerator and bent down, talking to him, while he fed him. I watched from the corner of my eye, and saw that Jazz certainly had him trained. Real tuna! Pretty soon he’d turn up his nose at meat treats from Fab. I hoped I was there the day the cat showed her his tail and left the room.

“How about a movie?” Didier sat with the remote flipping through the channels.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d rather read. Maybe once the movie got started, I could sneak out a book and he wouldn’t notice.

“You choose.” I curled up in my favorite chair, tablet in hand, already scanning my carousel of books. “Nothing scary,” I said, remembering Fab’s last choice for a movie.

Fab and Creole walked in through the French doors and she threw herself down next to Didier.

“Where did you go?” I asked, scanning them for injuries.

“No wonder you two get along.” Fab looked at me in disgust. “A crappy hamburger stand.”

“Roscoe’s?” I looked up at Creole, trying to gage the temperature.

Roscoe’s, a drive-thru, served the best burgers anywhere. No outside seating to the general public, the back patio had seating by invitation only, which meant only friends of Roscoe’s.

Creole nodded and brandished a bag from behind his back, dumping the contents on the counter.

I reached out. “Can I have some fries?” I asked after snagging several.

“Keep your mitts off our dinner. His idea sucked.” Fab shifted around, leaning back against Didier who’d moved in from the living room. “I’ll take my hamburger on a plate,” she said to Creole.

Creole served Fab her food and sat down next to me at the island.

“It wasn’t totally terrible, but close.” Creole looped his leg over mine and gave me a quick kiss.

I tried to push his leg off, but he wasn’t letting that happen. “I just want to know one thing: Did you two kiss and come to an understanding?” I looked between them.

“Not our fault, you can blame Madeline.” Fab took a bite of her burger. Didier watched in fascination as she licked her lips, then her fingers, and gave him one of her seductive smiles.

“Where did you see Mother? Not at Roscoe’s.” I raised my eyebrows. I snatched a French fry, dragging it through ketchup, holding it out for Creole to take a bite, and then gobbled the rest.

“You’re going to pay for teasing me while I’m hungry.” Creole cupped my chin. “I’m going to clean my plate because I’ll need my energy.”

“Your mother and Spoonie,”—Fab stuck her finger in her mouth—“were there and when they saw the two of us, she insisted we sit with them. When she figured out you two weren’t showing up, the questions started.” She glared at Creole. “‘What did this guy do?’ she demanded. He answered the first one and then, you know your mother, she had one hundred more. She ignored me and zoomed in on lover boy here.”

“You should have kicked me sooner,” Creole grumbled.

I leaned over and ran my hand down his leg, then just to be sure, ran my fingers from his ankle to his mid-thigh, his shorts cutting me off. A low growl resonated from his throat, and he shook his finger. “You better not have left any marks,” I said to Fab.

“Madeline asked if you knew that we were out together. I wanted to yell at her, ‘What do you mean?’ And stoop nut here said ‘Yes.’” Fab rolled her eyes. “She jumped to the conclusion we’d done something. Since he didn’t get the message the first time, I kicked him hard and pulled a trick out of your mother’s bag and started answering a question with a question.”

“Bet that frustrated her. She’s the queen of that technique,” I said.

“She got all huffy and told me she wanted straight answers. I thought, ‘None of your business,’ but I love her. We exchanged one of those girly one-up looks, both of us refusing to look away.”

Creole chuckled. “It looked more to me like ‘let’s meet out back and fight this out.’ Roscoe stopped all conversation when he showed up with our food. Gutsy here told him we’d take a bag and I told him to put it on Spoon’s check.”

“It’s Spoonie,” Fab reminded Creole. “Who never said a damn word, just made a few googly eyes at your mother. He needs to rein her in, starting with that hideous nickname.”

“She’s working on it.” I laughed. “She agreed to only using it in their…uh…private time.”

I rendered all three of them speechless at the same time. They loved her and clearly didn’t like the suggestion she may be doing something horizontal. I refused to think about it.

“Thanks for getting us out of there. I’d never have been so rude, but I’m happy you did it for the both of us. I don’t have to feel bad.” Creole smiled at Fab. “No hard feelings. Just stay out of the slums.”

Didier turned her to face him. “I’ll not be happy if I hear that you do that again.” His voice remained neutral but his eyes were dark and stormy.

Fab stood up, taking a step back. “Listen up, everyone. I made a few miscalculations today in my zest to make up to Brick for what he considers my slacker attitude. I promise we’ll work out a better system for problems,” she said to me. “If it ever comes up again that only one of us gets away, it will be you. And should anything happen, you will know that I wanted it that way. No arguing or hesitation.” She leaned down and hugged me. “You never cease to amaze me.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” I held on to her until she squirmed.

“I’m certainly happy that I saw your potential.” She smirked.

Creole pulled me off my stool and onto his lap, my head against his chest. “What about the Porsche?”

“I gifted it to Esteban.” Fab flashed a big smile, extremely proud of her trade.

“Just so you know, he could’ve had my ‘gas pig’ and anything else to let us go,” I said to her.

“Stay away from Esteban Castro.” Creole shook his finger at her. “He has a prison cell with his name on it and I’d hate to see you arrested because of the company you keep.”

Fab ignored Creole. I noticed she left out the part about his potential as a future client. “I told Esteban you were a crack shot,” she said to me. “And if I hadn’t rushed you out of the house without your Glock, he’d be laying in the street. Told him I was friends with Chief Harder and he laughed in my face. I amended my answer and told him you were the one with the friendship and it was in his best interest to make a deal.”

“How did you find out what happened?” I asked Creole.

“I know people everywhere. Just remember that. Thanks for the tips on how to handle a Madeline Westin interrogation in the future,” he said to Fab.

Didier smiled up at her and pulled her down onto his lap, kissing her.

I shoved my phone across the table to Fab. “I don’t recognize the number––you answer it.” I knew the chances of the call not ending well were high, but I wanted to finish my enchilada.

Fab turned her nose up at the phone and answered in French—that would confuse a local. I fully expected the person to hang up and call back. She hit the speaker. I looked around, happy that we were the only ones on the deck at Jake’s.

“Yeah, bone jourie yourself. Is this Madison Westin?”

I didn’t recognize the voice, which was nasally with a twang, and shook my head.

“Yes, now what do you want? Make it fast or I’m hanging up,” Fab growled into the phone.

I covered my mouth so I wouldn’t laugh.

“This is Rita from Dawg’s, you said to call if I had information on Eddie’s murder. I called once before and you didn’t call back. I know who did it, but if I tell you I need money to get out of town,” she said in a rush.

“Where did you get the information?” Fab asked, a look of disbelief on her face. “How do we know you’re selling reliable information?”

“A couple of locals were in last night and I overheard them talking about the murder. It’s all anyone wants to talk about down on the docks. No one’s saying anything; they don’t want the area crawling with cops.” Her voice was a whisper, though there was no noise in the background.

I knew that to be true. If the authorities even looked as if they were headed to the dock area, it instantly became a ghost yard. When possible, they disappeared aboard their boats.

“What is it you want?” Fab asked her.

“Ten thousand in cash,” she blurted.

“You’re crazy, too,” Fab yelled. “It’s not like Jami’s family. Even rewards for professional snitches don’t pay that high.”

I got up and closed the deck doors. Afternoons were always quiet in the bar in the lull before the folks showed up who drink their dinner.

“I can’t stay in the Cove. If anyone finds out, I’m dead. Eddie had connections that would shut me up. They look out for their own, even piddly delivery boys.”

“
If
what you say is true, we’ll help you to get out of town. Your price better be negotiable.” Fab shook her head at me.

After a long pause Rita said, “I get off at six, meet me under the overpass, in the back corner of the lot.”

“You better not be wasting our time.” Fab ended the call. “I don’t think she knows anything, she just wants money.”

I looked at my empty margarita glass and sighed, taking the last sip. “There were rumors about Edsel’s drug connections, but we couldn’t find a link to anyone major. The general consensus of his death around town was good riddance. Creole said he never made Drug Enforcement radar.”

“I don’t like Rita,” Fab said over the top of her water bottle. “She’s greedy. And I hate that bar. I say we blow off this meeting.”

“I’d like to hear what she has to say. I’ll tell her upfront I’m not meeting her payment demand.”

Fab stood up. “Let’s go home. We’ve got time for a swim.”

* * *

“Looks like our friend, Rita, is kicked back drinking a beer.” Fab pointed to the back of the parking lot. “Promise me this is the last time we come to this dump.”

I slid my phone out of my pocket and texted Creole. Fab looked at me and snickered.

“I keep remembering that Jami told me she saw the dead body––only she said, ‘we.’” I recalled her jailhouse confession, the only time I’d seen her since her arrest. She sent a note to put her final paycheck in her jail account.

“Did you ever find out why the jail visit got cut short?”

“Mac found out a chick slug-fest broke out.”

“Do you think Jami knows who killed Edsel and has kept quiet?” Fab mused. “Who risks life in jail for anyone?”

“It would have to be some scurve worse than Edsel.” I waved to Rita, who stood next to an old white van. “I want to be upfront before we get started.”

Fab stood back as I approached Rita.

She quirked her head and stared at me. “You sure sound different on the phone.”

“I’ve heard that before.” I half-smiled. “We need to negotiate the price. Any information needs to be verified before cash exchanges hands. I’m not paying your price, but I can connect you with a bartender job in another state. I know someone who’s always looking for experienced employees.” I noticed her hands shook, maybe she was afraid; when I first got out of the SUV she seemed more confident, intense.

“You’re probably a nice person but too smart for your own good.” She withdrew a semi-automatic from the back of her jeans.

I knew guns and recognized it as a Ruger LC9. She had an impressive piece of hardware, but did she know how to use it? At this close range, I suppose it didn’t matter.

“I couldn’t take the chance you’d figure it all out and this place would be swarming with cops.” She waved the muzzle. “Be cool and call your friend over. Warn her and she’ll be dead.”

“Leave her out of this.” I moved my hand to the back of my thigh, making a gun with my fingers, moving it around, hoping to catch Fab’s attention.

Rita stepped forward. “Fine, she goes first.”

“Run, Fab,” I screamed.

Rita jammed her gun in my face. “Go ahead and run, skinny bitch,” she yelled to Fab. “I’ll kill your friend here.”

“If this is about money, you can have what you want.” We’d have to make a bank run and that would buy time. I liked our odds, two against one. We both had guns and had stared down death before and won. Times like these call for a help button on my phone but it sat on the dashboard.

Fab marched over the gravel, hands in the air, shoulder height, in full arrogance, wearing her creepy smile that made the hair tingle on the back of my neck––and I knew her. Poor Rita, Fab was out of patience.

“I know she can be annoying.” Fab flung her hand in my direction. “Let’s make a deal, no shots fired; no one leaves in a body bag. Happy, happy all around.”

Rita motioned Fab to stand next to me. If we got close enough, I could take Fab’s gun from her waistband and kill Rita. Normally, I shot to disarm; but in this case, I’d make an exception.