Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 06 - Revenge in Paradise (5 page)

“Here you go,” Mac said, and held out her phone.

Fab turned the phone several times, examining the crime scene in detail. “Somebody had a hate-on for him. I bet there’s brain ooze inside the shed.”

Mac made a retching noise. “I’ll call the crime scene cleaner dude once the shed’s been released. He should give us a repeat-customer discount.”

“Oh, almost forgot,” Mac continued. “Jami never showed up for her advance.” She handed Fab the background report.

Fab peeked through the window blind. “I bet the next stop for Kevin and Ivy—who are still out there, trying to look incognito and failing—is Jami’s house.”

“I wish I hadn’t told Kevin she was his girlfriend but he’d find out I withheld information and there would go our truce. I didn’t mention that she might be staying at the Trailer Court.”

Fab scanned the report and threw it on the desk in disgust. “Don’t you think the professor would call the cops?”

“If she can ask about his private parts then, no, I don’t think he would,” I said. “I need to call Creole. The last thing I want is for him to find out about another dead body from someone else. It would interfere with our relationship bliss.”

Fab and I met up at the house. She parked the Mercedes and practically dragged me from behind the wheel of my SUV so that she could take the wheel. We rarely ever went anywhere in her car and I never got to drive. She worked some kind of suspicious deal with Brick in which he allows her to drive the hottest cars in town. But when he snapped his fingers, he expected it returned, usually with no notice.

She squealed right up to the picket fence at the Trailer Court, and Crum stepped back holding a broom handle, rifle style. All that intelligence must have robbed his brain cells. Mac needed to run a check on this one. Rumor had it he taught at a prestigious California college that one couldn’t get into without perfect grades.

I jumped out of the passenger side. “Have you seen Jami?”

“Who?” he asked, a blank look on his face.

“Don’t you ‘who’ me. I happen to know she has an unseemly interest in your body. She needs a friend before the sheriff arrives.”

“You’re impertinent.” He raised his bushy white eyebrows.

“Haven’t heard that one before. Now stop stalling.”

Fab whistled. “She’s right here,” she said, and yanked her by the arm into full view.

“I have my own problem...need to talk to you later,” Crum whispered.

“Did Edsel do that?” I asked. Jami sported two painful-looking black eyes, both sides of her face a dark shade of purple. “Have you seen a doctor?”

“Eddie went berserk and beat the hell out of me when I told him he had to return your stuff that he pawned.” She fingered her bruises, a stray tear rolling down her cheek.

Fab helped her to a patio chair that wobbled when she sat. “Then what happened?”

“He left me in a heap behind the dumpster at Custer’s. Crum came and got me.” She nodded at him.

Custer’s is a bar where locals hang out to drink beer and screw-top wine. The health department banned them from selling anything else––too dirty!

Crum left momentarily and came back with several broken-down beach chairs. After we sat down, he told us, “These were a great find. I got them out of the trash right before pickup.”

I took a deep breath and tried not to concentrate on the cootie factor.

“Edsel’s dead,” I informed Jami.

Her mouth turned up at the sides into a faint smile.

I hoped she wouldn’t have that reaction when the sheriff talked to her, which would be as soon as they could locate her.

Crum sat next to her, his mouth a grim line. Fab and I looked at one another and exchanged “What the hell?” looks.

“What happened between the two of you?” I asked.

“I told Eddie I was leaving him and going back to my husband. He knew I had car trouble on the Overseas down by Marathon Key, but didn’t know that I called my husband and he came and got me and fixed the car. We spent the night on the beach. I don’t know how Eddie found out, but he did and went ballistic. He threatened that if I left him, he’d kill my husband and make me watch as he fed him to the alligators.”

Fab made a face, apparently that wasn’t her first choice way to die.

“I told Eddie it wasn’t my husband who stopped to help but my first husband, Pyle. I figured he could take care of himself. Besides, Eddie didn’t know where Pyle lived.”

“Do you know that if Edsel hurt Pyle you could be charged with a crime?” It surprised me to find out that there had been a first husband.

Crum went inside his pink airstream trailer and came out with a pitcher of iced tea and smudged up glasses. I wasn’t sure if they were clean or not, so I passed.

His trailer was parked in the first slot just inside the fence. He decorated the outside area in an assortment of mismatched, broken-down furniture he had resurrected from the trash. The rest of the area was rundown, brought on by neglect. The previous owner liked to buy property but had no interest in keeping it maintained. There were several dilapidated trailers not fit to live in, all of them empty, not because tenants couldn’t be found. I suspected Crum, the only tenant, liked it that way, and ran off anyone who thought they might like to join him in squalor.

“Why not call the sheriff? It could be your husband who is dead instead of your boyfriend,” Fab said with contempt.

Jami glared at her. “This isn’t my fault. I didn’t know Eddie was freaking crazy.”

“Is Pyle okay?” I asked.

“Eddie swore to me he’d stay sober, and then one night he got drunk, snorted a few lines, and somehow got Pyle’s address. He started out by driving by their house, then got out and banged on the door, screaming mostly the ‘F’ word. Pyle confronted Eddie, telling him I was a flat-out liar, that he hated me and hadn’t seen me in months.”

“Imagine that,” Fab mumbled.

“So no one got hurt?” I asked. Jami seemed oblivious to the chaos she had orchestrated.

Jami twisted her hands in her lap. To my surprise, Crum patted her on the shoulder.

“Eddie snuck back and slashed the tires on their minivan. One of the kids saw him from the kitchen window.”

“Your ex has kids?” Fab asked in disgust.

“He remarried and has two children. I can’t stand the woman he married.”

“I bet the feeling is mutual,” Fab said.

“Did the sheriff ever get called?” I asked.

“When they showed up, Eddie led them on a chase, ditching the car at a dead end and jumping a fence. The cops unleashed the dogs. He tried to fight them off and got chewed on pretty good. Once they caught up with him, he assaulted a cop who was trying to cuff him and kicked one of the dogs in the face. Did you know that’s an extra charge?”

I cringed at the thought of the poor dog. “No, I didn’t. But good.”

“It took four sheriffs to wrestle him into the back of the car. No one thought he’d get bail but he did; his sister paid. He showed up with flowers, apologizing, I was afraid not to go back.” As she spoke, her eyes glittered with tears.

We sat in silence, everyone looking uncomfortable. Fab jumped up and got us bottled water out of the back of the Hummer.

Jami broke the silence. “He’d been convicted of rape long before we hooked up. Several friends knew and never said a word. He claimed the woman cried rape because she didn’t want her husband to find out she’d been cheating on him.”

Crum patted her head like dog and said, “He can’t hurt you again.”

“I couldn’t take it anymore when he stole my keys, cleaning out your shed and pawning it all. I planned to take my cash advance and disappear. He drove me to the beach and started drinking and picking a fight. I waited until he went to the bathroom and ran along the shore, blending into the tourists, jumping in the waves. Crum’s been hiding me. I didn’t kill Eddie but I’m not sad he’s dead.”

“Well, someone did and left him to die in the shed,” I said.

“I have an alibi; I stayed here last night,” Jami said.

“I would suggest you get a lawyer on speed dial before the cops catch up to you. There’s a semi-retired one in town who takes on pro-bono cases. I’m not sure he practices criminal law, but he could do some hand-holding in a police interrogation.”

Two sheriff cars rocketed into the driveway, lights flashing. Both officers jumped out in unison. I didn’t recognize either one.

“Jami Richards, hands up—you’re under arrest,” one yelled. Both were holding their service revolvers pointed right at her.

“I didn’t kill him,” she started to cry.

“Don’t say one word without a lawyer present,” I called to her. “They have to assign you one for free since you can’t pay.”

“Step back,” the cop bellowed. “You’re interfering with an arrest. Everyone, hands up. Richards, step forward, lay face down on the ground.”

I winced watching her lay her bruised face on the gravel driveway. She stumbled getting to the ground. The fun, laughing, always-smiling party girl had been replaced by a frightened shell of herself.

“Hang in there, Jami. You’ll be out soon,” I tried to reassure her.

“I told you once,” the cop yelled, “say one more word and you’re under arrest.”

Jami cried out as one of the officers cuffed her and yanked her off the ground, leading her to his patrol car. I heard him read her rights as they walked away.

“The rest of you sit back down and no talking. You, with the red hair, get over here.” He pointed to me. “Your name,” he said as he took out his notebook.

I was an expert at this game, having been questioned more times than I could count, having mostly to do with other people’s problems. My lawyer drilled it into me that yes or no answers were sufficient, only after contacting him. When that wasn’t an option, I gave the shortest answer possible. I wondered how many questions it would take before I insisted on my right to counsel.

It surprised me when he only asked for our names and contact information, then the cops jumped into their respective cars and left. I didn’t have a good feeling about this. With a rap sheet as long as Edsel’s, any number of people could want him dead.

“Next time you’re off to help a friend or stranger, I’m staying home,” Fab snarked.

“I’ll tell Didier,” I sniffed, sticking my lip out in a pout.

I ignored her glare and took my phone out of my pocket and texted:
If you don’t show up tonight, I’m replacing you
.

I turned to Fab. “I’m staying. I’ll walk to Jake’s and get a ride.”

“To do what?” she said evenly.

“The professor said he needed to speak with me. I couldn’t possibly inconvenience you a second time today.” Fab hated not knowing something, so I knew there’d be no way she’d leave.

“I’m staying. You might need backup.”

“You okay?” I sat down next to Crum. I almost patted him on the shoulder but snatched my hand back, reminding myself that it’s the thought that counts.

Fab eyed her rickety chair with suspicion, decided on a change, and hopped up onto an old redwood picnic table that termites lived in. Judging by the piles of dust, a rather large family.

Face in his hands, Crum slumped down in his chair. “Too much bullshit for this day.” He blew out a long breath.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

He looked between me and Fab. “I’ve heard that you two snoop around in other people’s business. I need to know if I get some kind of confidentiality agreement. And an assurance you won’t call the sheriff.”

I held up my hand. “If you’ve done something illegal, I don’t want to hear about it. Call a lawyer. He won’t want to hear a confession either, but he’ll defend you. And another thing, we don’t blab all over town about anything.”

“I’ve never in my life run afoul of the law,” he said in disgust. “Follow me.” He crooked his finger. “I don’t know what to do about this. I figured you two would know.”

We followed him into the parking lot to a dull red ’60s Chevy pickup, parked next to his trailer.

“When did you get this?” I asked.

“A man owed me money and I took this in exchange. When I got home last night and unloaded groceries, I found this in the back.” He pulled down the tailgate and lifted up a cardboard box. Inside sat a foot, from the part just above the anklebone and down.

I jumped back and focused on not being sick, taking short little breaths.

Fab reached out—

“Don’t touch that!” I yelled.

“Look at that, someone’s missing their foot,” Fab said as she bent over and stared at it in detail.

“How does a foot…I mean who…wouldn’t someone notice that their
foot
is missing and report it?” I stammered.

“I’d tell you to take it back to where you found it, but I suppose you don’t know where that is?” Fab said.

“The sheriffs have to get involved. Because where’s the rest of the person? That’s the first question they’ll probably ask you or, best case scenario, they already know.” I grimaced and shook my head.

“No police,” Crum shouted. “I’m just going to toss it in the dumpster.”

“You can’t do that! Wouldn’t you want your foot back?” I asked. “I have a connection in the local sheriff’s office and I could call him. He’s a good guy.”

Crum raised his brow. “You two good friends?”

“His sister dates my brother. He thinks I’m weird.”

“Everybody in this town thinks I’m weird. Go ahead and call him.”

I called the sheriff’s office and asked for Kevin, and the harassed receptionist told me to leave a message before she transferred the call. “I think you should cover it back up and I’ll keep calling until he answers. Don’t go joyriding around and lose it or chance someone stealing it.”

“Well this has been fun,” Fab said, and grabbed my arm.

“I want to go home and get drunk,” I answered.

“Where are you?” Creole roared from the French doors that led in from the patio. I’d offered him a key, but like Fab, even if the doors were locked, it only took an extra minute to get in; neither went anywhere without a lock pick. He gave me a key to his hideaway, telling me he didn’t want me to stand outside for a half hour begging the lock pick to work.