Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 06 - Revenge in Paradise by Deborah Brown Page B

today.
    “Our car retrieval job had a dead body in the trunk? That’s why all the questions about Gage,” I said. “I wonder if that ass-clown lawyer of ours knew this was a murder case.”
    “I’m just glad we’re out of there.” Fab weaved through the traffic.
    “You do realize that without a friendship with Harder we’d be wearing ugly orange and staring through bars and not sharing the same cell.” I looked at my cell phone for the time. I wore a watch, but only for decoration; I never set the time and knew nothing about changing the battery. “Ten hours of detention seemed like days. You damned well better be nice to Harder the next time you see him.” I started to shake.
    “Are you okay?” She pulled my hair.
    “Where in the hell was Brick?” I screamed out my frustration. “He knew something went wrong when we didn’t show up on time!” I paused to breathe. “Thank goodness for Creole, who is going to kill us. I don’t want to go home, and we can’t go to Mother’s. When she hears Brick’s involved that will end any sympathy. She loathes him.”
    “I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” Fab said, and made a face at me, “but getting arrested, chased, and shot at is getting old. Want a partner in Jake’s? We’ll cater to the unsavory sort and discourage the others.”
    “You know I’ve wanted you as a partner from day one and you turned up your dainty nose. We’d need a new name.”
    “We could still take the crap cases, missing animals and dead people––not surprise dead people like today. You know, like the caskets missing or bodyguard for Dickie when he does fancy funerals.” She ran her finger along the bridge of her nose, admiring it in the rearview mirror, and smiled.
    “Eww,” we both said at the same time.
    Poor thing, Fab’s lost her mind .
    “Didier’s back?” I pointed to his car. “He got back earlier than you thought. We should’ve gone to Key West.”
    “Please don’t tell him anything, not tonight anyway,” Fab pleaded.
    “I’m taking a shower and pulling the covers over my head. Listen to me––it would be a lot better coming from your lips than Creole’s.”
    We walked in together. I smiled at Didier and picked up Jazz. “See you two in the morning,” I said, and disappeared up the stairs before he could say more than, “How was your day?”
     
    * * *
     
    When I peeked into the kitchen the next morning, Fab and Didier were entangled, laughing and drinking coffee. She had a tendency to ignore good advice, and I knew the words “almost charged with murder” and “no chance of ever getting out of jail” never passed her lips.
    Jazz sat on the island, Didier feeding him some treat Fab buys from the deli. “No feeding him on the counter.” I picked Jazz up and set him on the floor; he meowed at me, and stuck his tail in the air, giving me the cold shoulder.
    “What?” I mouthed to Fab silently, stirring my coffee.
    She gave a slight shake of her head.
    “What are you two ladies doing today?” Didier winked at me and put his arm around Fab.
    “I’m sitting out by the pool with a book. I’m turning my phone to silent. I need a quiet day.” I smiled weakly, feeling guilty Fab hadn’t womaned-up.
    Before Fab could answer, the front door banged against the wall. “Where in the hell are you?” Creole yelled. He blew in like a full-force category-5 hurricane. I didn’t say a word and slid closer to Fab.
    “What the hell, man?” Didier scowled at him.
    Creole stalked into the kitchen. “What did I specifically tell you two?”
    I’d never seen him this mad, rendering me speechless. I admired that no one intimidated Fab, but getting in his face with a snotty attitude would be the wrong move. Thankfully, she stayed quiet.
    Creole told Didier in excruciating detail about our little adventure. How we ignored the warning beep on the GPS—along with every single other thing he said about safety—and put our lives in danger.
    I gave him