Ambushed in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 12), page 20
I turned to the left onto a street that was made up of old historic brick buildings ranging from one to three stories. Some were covered in sheets of plywood, with upper floors missing windows, while others had iron bars across what were once entrances. The potential of the wharf idea leaped out at me.
Fab hung out the window, snapping pictures as we turned the corner.
“I own the entire block on the water side.” Corndog pointed. “On this other side, I own the two end parcels, and the rest are owned by individuals that have owned them for a long time and aren’t in a hurry to sell.”
He told us the hotel would anchor one end of the property, the high-end restaurants the other, with the requisite tourist gift stores and rides in the middle: a ferris wheel, a mini roller coaster, and a train ride that would circle the entire property. The plans were drawn to incorporate all the existing buildings.
“How did you get the senior apartment building from Brick Famosa?” I asked as we drove past the three-story building. I would never forget coming down here for a job and discovering the squalid conditions that the retirees lived in. Fab and I had bullied Brick into doing the right thing – giving them a relocation allowance and a few choices in where they could move.
“Brick’s a piece of work. Known him too long.” Corndog grinned. “When his plan didn’t go according to his timeline, he got bored and sold out. The final blow came when he found out that the code department wasn’t going to allow him to bulldoze the building. They’re a bunch of old timers that don’t cotton to strangers looking to make a fast buck.”
“In the interest of full disclosure, I work for the man,” Fab said. “Everything you said about him is true. Probably worse things you don’t know about.”
“I’ve been backup on most of those jobs,” I added. “You have plans for that building?”
“Almost forgot, the architect suggested loft apartments. He says they’d be a money-maker, suggested screw-you rents since they’d be in a chichi area and waterfront always gets top dollar.”
“Any water rights for boat slips?” I asked.
“Listen to you,” Corn crowed. “I forgot about those. There’s a couple of rickety docks that need to be replaced, and I bet more could be added.”
“How did you make your money, if you don’t mind me asking?” I asked.
“Real estate. Buy cheap, sell cheap, all about volume. Never had an interest in fixing and flipping. I was in it for the quick buck, and it worked out real well for me.”
Fab turned and asked, “But this property you held onto. What happened to your formula?”
“I entertained the idea of selling briefly, but I kept putting off making a decision, and now I’ve come up with a few ideas of my own. When Bordello’s nasty personality showed its true self and I got beat up, I put all thoughts of the project on hold. I’d already decided I wasn’t selling – not to him, anyway.”
“In choosing Madison, you put her at risk,” Fab pointed out.
“That’s something she’ll have to take into consideration,” Corndog said. “And for that reason alone, I’d understand if you want no part of the project.” He locked eyes with me in the rearview mirror.
In response to Fab’s finger-pointing, I pulled over at the end of the block. Getting out and stretching, I looked around. The area had an eerie feel, mostly because it was deserted – a place I would never come at night in its current condition. It wouldn’t surprise me if all these buildings housed an assortment of vermin.
Fab snapped pictures as she walked down the street.
“Don’t go into any building by yourself,” I called after her.
“I feel bad. I hadn’t thought too much about the danger I might be putting you in until your friend pointed it out,” Corndog said. “Even though I think this is a good idea, please don’t have any compunction about telling me ‘Hell no.’”
Chapter Thirty-Four
We dropped Corndog off at The Cottages. Mac’s truck wasn’t in her driveway, so I texted that it was okay for Corndog to change units. Strictly a business deal. We hopped on the Overseas and headed to the beach house.
“All this talk about business plans, I’ve got a few of my own, made a few notes,” Fab said.
I could tell she was impatient for a reaction. “I’ve got a great location in mind.” I motioned for her to make a lane change. “Detour. Get off at the next exit and head towards JS Auto Body.”
Spoon owned a business at the opposite end of the dock area from where we had just been. He’d been there for years, and all the nearby businesses sat behind security barbed-wire fencing.
“Why down there?” Fab wrinkled her nose in distaste.
“This property will pass even your finicky standards. I happen to know that the current business is ready to fold and the owner is amenable to a sale. One stipulation – I at least get desk space.”
“How do you know this stuff?”
“You know me…standing in a grocery line, minding my own business, and without any invitation, the person behind me tells me about their gall bladder surgery and grandkids. It’s what comes from being an interested listener.”
“Is that what you call it?” Fab turned up her nose. She slowed going past the auto body shop. “Where now?”
“Four mailboxes up, the gigantic black locking one. Don’t pull in the driveway; we’ll show up on the security camera.”
“Zach’s old building?” she asked, surprised.
“Actually two warehouse buildings.” I turned toward the window, hoping to catch a peek behind the fencing. “The one on the left was a residence—Zach lived upstairs and parked his cars on the bottom level. The right housed the offices of his security firm. The outside’s shabby and appears in need of repair, but that’s deceiving. It was left that way to fit in with the neighborhood. The insides have been rehabbed to even your high standards.”
Fab hung a u-turn, pulled over to the side, and idled in front of an empty lot. “I was only there once, and the renovations hadn’t been finished then.” She leaned over the steering wheel. “Too bad we can’t see anything except the square roofs.”
“This is where you tell me what a super fabulous idea this is.”
“Love the buildings and even the location: seedy, but up-and-coming. The security looks top notch from what I can see.”
“I hear a ‘but’ coming,” I said.
“There’s only me,” she sighed. “I have no idea how or if I can even manage employees.”
“You’re forgetting me.” I frowned. “How about Didier? You know his days using the office space at the condos are about to come to an end, since he and Brad got a signed contract. He’ll need a place to go. Since he’s staying in the real estate business, he’s going to need an office. It’s not far from his current location, and I bet he’d love this place.”
“We’re still partnering on jobs?” Fab asked. “It’s thanks to your suggestion that I’m giving this idea serious thought. That and all the crappy cases I seem to be getting lately. I’m tired of jumping out of windows – the last time, the bruises faded quickly, but the pain was so deep, it hung around for weeks, a reminder that it hadn’t been one of my best ideas.”
“I think once word gets out you’re open for business, you’ll get more legit jobs and not just ones that skirt the illegal.” I kept to myself and the ones that are flat out illegal.
“I don’t want this to open the door to going our separate ways.”
“I’ll still be backup,” I promised. “I’ll just be working on this real estate thing too. It might surprise you, but I understand Bordello wanting to build something to leave behind. Something to say, ‘I was here and created something great.’ Maybe something to leave the kids that they might be proud of.”
“Your aunt made a good choice, leaving her holdings to you; she probably knew you’d build on them. She’d be proud, you know,” Fab said.
“I hope so. She changed my life, and I wish I could say thank you to her every day.”
Fab pulled back out on the road. “The first thing we should do is find out what kind of deal we can make.”
I nodded. “Let’s stop at the bakery so I can get a fabulous dessert for tonight.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Waiting until the last minute was never a good idea. I raced home from Creole’s to change clothes for lunch with Mother. I didn’t know how I would keep Creole’s reemergence a secret. All the lying I’d have to do was making me uncomfortable, and I hadn’t even started yet.
Over dinner the previous evening, Creole, Fab, Didier and I discussed keeping the secret and how important it was for now. We also kicked around ideas for how to keep it a secret if Creole came and went from the house.
I flew into the driveway, squeezing in next to Fab’s Porsche, and ran into the house. Fab waved from the island.
“I don’t want to go,” I whined and settled on a stool across from her.
“Coward.”
“Just go with me. Besides, Mother will wonder why you’re a no-show.”
“Oh no she won’t,” Fab said dramatically. “She called to tell me specifically that I was not invited.”
I gasped. “She didn’t.”
“She tried to soften it by going on about needing alone time with her daughter. I thought she was a bit overdramatic, but I was happy to get off the phone.”
“She’s up to something.”
“That’s pretty much what I thought, but you can handle her.”
“Please…come with me.”
Fab pointed to the hallway. “Go. If you need help picking out something to wear – whistle.”
I gave an over-exaggerated eye roll and headed to the stairs, pausing first to scratch the cats sacked out on the daybed.
* * *
Showering and twisting my hair into a messy bun, I made it back downstairs in record time. Fab was still in the same spot, hunched over a notepad. I stood in the doorway and turned, showing her the white, spaghetti-strap, ankle-length linen dress I’d chosen, pairing it with a natural woven belt and matching sandals.
“I like that dress.” She gave a thumbs up. “Smile,” she scolded. “Have a good time.”
“Don’t you dare do anything fun while I’m gone.” I waved as I went out the door, a forlorn smile on my face as I slipped behind the wheel of the SUV.
As I backed out of the driveway, I went over Mother’s call to guilt me into lunch. I had so much to hide, it would be a miracle if she didn’t figure it out and weasel every detail out of me. When she eventually found out about Creole being alive and how I’d lied, that would create a drama all its own. I’d stress that it was for his safety, and maybe that would lessen her irritation.
Driving up to the security gate at Mother’s complex, I used my counterfeit keycard and the gates opened. I often wondered when it would stop working and was happy that it hadn’t happened so far. Even though I had my lockpick stuffed in the side pocket of my purse, I decided to act like a normal guest and call from the lobby. Spoon answered and immediately buzzed the door. When the elevator opened, he was leaning against the doorframe. “This is a first. You usually break in.”
“Can’t say I’ll make a habit of it.” I brushed a kiss on his cheek and continued down the hall, kissing Mother.
“How are you feeling?” Mother cooed, checking out my outfit down to my shoes. She ushered me to an overstuffed chair in front of the couch, handing me a glass of iced tea.
“A few days in the sun was just what I needed.”
Mother and Spoon exchanged a look that gave me an uneasy feeling. They both took seats across from me.
“Before I forget, do you know the owner of Zach’s old building?” I asked Spoon, hoping maybe they were friends. “I’d like to get a contact number if you have it.”
“Why?” Mother asked sharply.
That was an odd reaction. From the tight lines around her mouth, one might almost think she wanted the property. “I’ve got someone who might be interested in the property.”
“Brad’s putting together a big project for down in that area. I’m not sure whether he’s interested in that exact property, but couldn’t you give him the first option?”
“First I’ve heard of that. Seems as though the family is keeping a lot of secrets lately.” Myself included. “Fab’s the one who is interested. I could stay neutral on this one, let the best bid win.” Which I’d do if I knew for certain Bordello wasn’t involved in any way.
“Not for an investigation business, I hope,” Mother sniffed. “And I suppose you’d be involved, putting yourself in danger every opportunity you get. I don’t know why you two can’t come up with something else, anything that doesn’t require you carrying a gun.”
I set my glass down on the table. “You do know that if she’s running her own business, she’s less likely to be running around, taking every job she can get, and will instead delegate the worst of them.”
“Let’s all calm down,” Spoon said. “I haven’t heard a word about the property, whether it’s for sale or rent. I think I would’ve heard if either were the case. I hear something, and I’ll let you know.”
I flashed him a look that said, Sure you will.
He looked away, which told me what I needed to know. I’d have to get the information elsewhere.
“Are we going out to eat?” I asked since I hadn’t noticed any to-go boxes on the counter.
“We’re staying here. Spoon made us a grilled shrimp salad, and while we were out this morning, we stopped for some freshly baked rolls.” She smiled at him, patting his leg. “I thought it would give us more of an opportunity to talk privately.”
“About what?” My spine straightened—I didn’t care for the seriousness that filled her eyes.
“About your mental health.” An older woman I’d never seen before walked into the living room. She wore a lilac woolen suit that hung to mid-calf, her grey hair fashioned into a severe bun. I’d guess her to be Mother’s age, but Mother would never be caught dead in that outfit.
“And you are?” I managed to keep my tone pleasant and “hell” out of the question.
“Susan Moore.” She thrust out her hand, business card between her fingers.
I took the card, quickly glancing at it. “It’s nice that psychotherapists make house calls. Except that I’m certain it must be a breach of ethics if you plan on pushing your services on me when I’m not the one who called you.” My phone dinged. I pulled it out of my pocket, checking the screen. A smiley face from Fab. At any other time, I would’ve laughed.
“Hand that to me. We don’t need the distraction.” Mother stood and leaned across the coffee table, holding out her hand.
“I’m not a kid. I can deal with my own phone.” I sent a quick text: Get over here NOW! “I’ll put it on vibrate.” I shoved it back in my pocket.
“Why don’t we all calm down and get to know one another over lunch?” Spoon said before disappearing into the kitchen.
Still standing, Mother said, “Let’s move out to the patio—it’s a beautiful day.”
“Great idea,” Susan said with a tight-lipped smile.
Mother ushered us outside, practically pushing me. The patio table had been set for four, a drink cart off to the side offering several beverage choices on ice. I wanted to ask for a shot of tequila, but a voice in my head warned that I’d need my presence of mind for this lunch.
Spoon came through the double doors, a large serving tray in hand—he clearly had everything prepared ahead of time.
My anger at this whole insane situation was about at the breaking point. Mother pointed me to the chair the furthest from the doors and next to the Susan woman. I didn’t know how much further Mother would push this grand scheme of hers, which in my opinion had already gone over the line.
I glared at Mother as I sat down. “You are stretching the limits of our relationship.”
Spoon offered iced tea, lemonade or water, nothing alcoholic. I’d brought my glass of tea with me and glared in response to his offer to refill it. He put a bowl of salad in the middle of each dinner plate. It really did look delicious with the large grilled shrimp on top, and any other time, I’d be eager to take a bite. Instead, I played with the lettuce, which he’d done a good of job of chopping since I found no signs of the spine.
Ms. Moore took several bites of her salad and then launched into a monologue about the benefits of mental health care.
I tuned her out, tapping my foot under the table. I had to force myself not to pull my phone out and check the time. Mother’s house wasn’t that far from mine—given Fab’s usual driving speed, hopefully she’d be here any minute.
Unfortunately, Mother’s focus zeroed in on my eating, or lack thereof. I loaded up my fork, saluted her, and when she looked away, flicked it back in the bowl. Spoon didn’t miss a trick and scowled at me. I returned an angry stare that should’ve exploded his head into flames.
“That looks yummy,” Fab said from the doorway. She bent down and kissed Mother’s cheek before she could recover from the shock of her sudden appearance. Fab appeared a bit harried, not her impeccable self, her bathing suit top visible under her blouse.
I wanted to jump up and throw my arms around her. Maybe I was overreacting, but it eased my mind to have her pull up a chair and wedge it into the tiny space by my side. “I’ll have an iced tea,” she said to Spoon.
Spoon growled. “Damn it.” He was ready to unleash more but thought better of it and reigned the words back in. He stood, crossed to the cart, and poured her a glass, setting it in front of her with a bang.
