Trouble in Paradise (14 page)

“Did you figure out who the thief is?” I pulled my seatbelt
tighter as Fab screeched up to a red light.

“Nooo! Steal something already! I’m beginning to believe my
client exaggerated about how often the thefts are occurring.”

“Stakeouts are so unsexy. A bunch of hurry up and wait and
wait,” I said. “I’ll go next time and, when it becomes mind numbing, I’ll
torment you.”

“You know, I would’ve broken you out of that little
dickwater jail.” Fab’s smile told me she had given thought to the idea.

“I was counting on that. We’d have to go on the run.”

“We could hide in plain sight in the Keys and no would talk.
We protect our own, for better or worse,” Fab said, but otherwise looked lost
in thought.

“I know that look. What?”

Fab slammed on the brakes to make the Tarpon Cove exit.
“Maybe that’s the key to the Cosmo Rich case and why no one’s talking. The
murderer is a local.”

The pool area at night twinkled with white Christmas lights
wrapped around the trunks of all the trees, which also had floodlights at each
base. In each potted plant, copper solar light stakes illuminated the flowers.
Fab and I sat on the patio and finished scarfing down hamburgers from Roscoe’s.

“Hi, ladies,” Zach said, walking out of the house, a pitcher
in one hand, glasses in the other.

“Did you make them?” I asked.

“Margaritas, courtesy of Jake’s. I’ve come to celebrate.” He
set everything on the edge of the pool.

“New clients?” I tossed my cover-up on the chaise, and
jumped into the water.

“Don’t forget the salt and the lime before you jump in,” Fab
told Zach. “No, I’m not going to my room and giving you privacy,” she added as
she stepped into the pool.

I splashed water on Fab.

Zach disappeared inside the house for only a minute,
reappearing in his bathing suit with a second tray of drink paraphernalia.
“We’re celebrating Madison’s release from jail.”

“How did you find out?” I swam over and sat on the top step.

“Cruz and I were at the courthouse when his assistant called
with your frantic message. Cruz does crisis with efficiency better than anyone
I know. He made several rapid-fire phone calls to get the situation
straightened out and you released.” Zach poured the margaritas into the glasses
and handed them to Fab and me.

“Detective Harder sprung me.” I filled Zach in on the
details.

“I saw Harder a couple of days ago and he asked how you
were. I thought I’d heard him wrong. When did you two get so chummy?” Zach
asked.

“Thanks for the margarita,” Fab said, getting out of the
pool.

“You don’t have to leave,” I said.

Zach poked me in the side.

“I’ve got a client call to make and give him an update. See
you in the morning.”

“Thank you for picking me up, especially when I know you
avoid our favorite Detective Harder when possible.”

“This is the first time he didn’t have any snotty comments
for me.” Fab laughed. “Maybe I’m going to reap some rewards for this new
fondness he has for you. Try not to be loud.” She disappeared inside the house.

“Alone at last,” Zach sighed, and pulled me into a kiss.

“Don’t go anywhere.” I got out of the pool, walked over, and
hit the switch on the pool lights. “How was your day, honey?” I removed my
bathing suit and walked down the steps into the pool.

“Boring. I testified in a criminal case today and worried
about you until I got the call you’d been sprung. You should’ve called me.”

“What, and tell you I’d been outsmarted by a
seven-year-old?”

“Every one of Famosa’s kids has a reputation for being an
out of control brat. Casio’s parenting style is to let them run wild, thinking
they’ll grow into responsible adults. When he realizes that’s a sucky plan,
it’ll be too late.”

“You’re overdressed,” I whispered. “Do you want kids?” I
asked as I pulled off his bathing trunks. “After today I don’t think I want
any.”

“Have you told Madeline?”

“Heck no. She’s on the grandchildren warpath and she wants
them now.” I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he pushed me up against the
side of the pool.

“Sometimes your mother scares me.”

Zach pulled me to him and kissed me as I ran my fingers down
his back. “Let’s take this inside. I don’t trust Fab not to look out the
window.” He lifted me out of the water, wrapped an over-sized towel around us,
and carried me inside, and up the stairs.

“What’s your plan?” I asked Fab, opening her car door. “Your
car’s too small. We’ll take mine. At least I’ll be able to stretch out.”

“I’m driving. I heard the tow truck screech to a stop this
morning and when I looked out the window, one of Brick’s men was dumping your
Tahoe in the driveway.”

“Catch.” I tossed Fab the keys. “Looks like he had it washed
for me, must be feeling guilty. Try to stay somewhere close to the speed
limit.”

Fab helped me load an ice chest, along with a couple of
pillows and blankets, in the back.

“I’m warning you up front, this could be another tedious
day.” Fab threw her bag in the back.

“What’s the story on your client?” I asked. Then added, “And
not the long winded version.”

“Norman’s shipments get delivered to the main warehouse in
Miami. Every day, inventory is sorted and shipped to their second location in
Orlando. Somewhere along the way, boxes of beauty supplies go missing. Anywhere
from small stuff like nail polish to higher end items. They don’t recheck in
Orlando so it wasn’t until the yearly inventory that they noticed the
shortage.”

“So Mr. Norman thinks the inventory goes missing between
Miami and Orlando?” I asked. “Maybe an employee of the trucking company.”

“That’s Norman’s theory and he wants me to prove it.” Fab
drove into a warehouse complex, parking at the far end. “The paperwork trail
starts when they take possession of the shipments that come in weekly by boat.
All inventory gets checked in and accounted for, and the Miami warehouse has
security cameras recording everything. He secretly hired a friend to supervise
the loading of every shipment that leaves Miami. At least once a week, a truck
rolls up short in Orlando.”

“While we’re waiting for the truck to leave, I brought a bag
of tricks. My laptop, magazines, a deck of cards and a couple electronic games.
Or we can talk, maybe more about who is Fabiana Merceau.”

“We can have that talk next year. Showtime!” Fab said.

The delivery truck rolled out of the driveway and headed
straight for the turnpike. We had a long, boring ride ahead of us.

“What’s happened the last few times you’ve followed the
truck?” I asked. “Is it the same trucking company, same driver every time?”

“Norman’s nephew owns the trucking company and it’s a
different driver every time. Other than that nothing has changed, truck gets on
the interstate, transfers to the turnpike, doesn’t make a stop until it arrives
in Orlando.”

It must be killing Fab to drive just under the speed limit.
Any faster and the truck would be following her. Fab turned on the radio,
hitting the scan button every few seconds. I answered email on my laptop.

We’d been following the truck for about fifty miles, when
the right blinker flashed and the truck exited the highway.

“What’s out here?” I asked. Acres of trees lined both sides
of the highway, not even a single housing development boasting how one could
live in the middle of nowhere, cheap. My first question would be, where’s the
shopping?

“This is one of those on and off ramps that runs through a
gas station travel center,” Fab said. “Grab my camera bag on the seat behind
me.”

I put my laptop on the backseat and pulled out the camera,
attaching the long lens. “Since gas out here is triple the going rate, I wonder
what’s up with the stop?”

The truck cruised around the back, parking at the end of the
second row, completely surrounded by long haul drivers. The truckers parked
their rigs after getting gas, then got food, showers and shopping all in one
stop.

“Would you use a public shower?” Fab asked. “Why are you
looking in the back?”

“I’m looking because there must be someone else in this car.
You can’t possibly be asking me if I’d risk getting foot crud and whatever
else.” I shook my head. “Where are we going to park, so that you can take
pictures unnoticed?”

“I’m parking in front of the water and air machine. You jump
out and check your tires. You know how to do that don’t you?”

“Actually, smarty, my father taught me when I was about ten.
I used to follow him around, asking a hundred questions. If he knew something,
then I had to know it.”

“I’ll snap pictures from the back seat. Take your cell,
click a couple of pics if you have the chance.”

Fab climbed into the back seat and set up her stuff at the
side window behind the driver’s seat. I jumped out and crouched beside the
front passenger tire with an obstructed view of the truck.

Minutes later, a rental van pulled up beside the truck. Both
trucks had women drivers, average looking, mid-thirties, who jumped out and
exchanged a few words. They both disappeared inside the back of the delivery
truck and began pulling boxes, stacking them on the back ramp.

“Missy, you need some help with them tires?” A middle-aged
man, tugging his wife beater shirt down over his paunch, stood over me.

“Thanks but I have this under control,” I said.

“Pretty little thing, you shouldn’t be getting your hands
dirty.” He spit into the trashcan, and flashed a smile showing nice tobacco stained
teeth from the chew stuffed in his cheek. “You don’t even have the cap off.” He
pointed.

The back passenger window rolled down about two inches, a
gun nozzle shoved out the opening. “Beat it!” Fab yelled.

“You could’ve…,” he stammered and took off. He mumbled
something but I couldn’t make out his words.

Fab rolled the window back up before I could say anything.

The women were organized. Once they pulled the boxes, they
double-checked their list, and transferred everything to the van in under
thirty minutes. None of the other truck drivers paid them one minute of
attention. They locked up and headed inside the travel center.

I opened the passenger door. “I’ll follow and see what
they’re doing and get a couple more pictures.”

“Not necessary. I got plenty of good pics. Bad news is that
the driver of the van is Norman’s daughter.” Fab climbed over the console back
into the driver’s seat.

“Oh no. What are you going to do?” I closed my door.

“I’m not telling him,” Fab said. “I’ll hand him my final
report complete with pictures and let it speak for itself. I’m not looking him
in the face and telling him his daughter’s a thief.”

“Now what?”

“They won’t stay in there forever. We wait and then follow
the van.” Fab grabbed a bottled water from the driver’s side door pocket.

“Was it necessary to point a gun at Mr. Helpful?” I asked.

“A nice little ‘Get the hell out of here,’ and I wouldn’t
have had to do anything. We didn’t have all day for you to get rid of him
nicely. Sometimes you take that nice crap too far and it’s irritating.”

“Sorry that I irritate you.” I sucked in my cheeks so I
wouldn’t laugh.

“I’m not in the mood to feel bad today. You know what I
meant.”

Ten minutes later the women were back. They high-fived,
hopped into their vehicles and headed back to the turnpike. The delivery truck
went north and the van took the loop around heading south. We kept our distance
and followed the van back to the Miami area.

“Isn’t she driving a little fast for someone with stolen
goods?” I asked, since Fab was already ten miles over the speed limit and there
was still plenty of room between us. “I thought the idea was to not attract any
unwanted attention when committing grand theft.”

“That’s proof she’s been doing this for a while. She’s too
comfortable in not getting caught or just plain stupid. How do you steal from
your own family?” Fab wondered.

“Personally, losing my family would be too high a price to
pay.”

The van took the first exit to Fort Lauderdale. We wound
through residential streets, ending up at a self-storage lot. The van driver
pulled in and drove around to the far side. We snuck in behind and went the
opposite way.

“We can’t stay here long.” Fab pointed to cameras mounted at
the end of the building. “My guess is someone inside the office is monitoring these
cameras. I don’t want to get arrested.”

“What’s she doing now?” I asked as we came around the side
from the other direction. “Go slow when you drive by. There’s a side road over
there.” I pointed. “We can park and see right into the unit, take more pictures.”

Fab pulled out of the storage lot and over to the side of
the road, then pulled out a pair of binoculars. “She’s loading more boxes. Now
she’s loading a stack of poles and there’s some camping equipment and the unit
will be empty.”

The woman slammed and locked the van doors, then pulled down
the doors to the storage unit.

“Where’s she going now?” Fab wondered as she pulled into
traffic behind her.

The van stuck strictly to residential streets and several
blocks later turned into a large apartment complex, with several hundred units
and all the amenities. She pulled into an assigned space and disappeared inside
one of the lower units.

“Don’t hate me,” Fab said. “We have to stay here to see
where the van goes next.”

“Someone is bound to notice we’re sitting here and call the
cops.” I looked around, but no one was in sight.

“Didn’t you ever check up on your high school boyfriend?
We’ll hunker down and hide in plain sight.”

“I have to pee. I can’t go in the bushes. The cars passing
by will see my butt.”