Murder in Paradise (Paradise Series) by Deborah Brown

living together when we haven’t even said ‘I love you.’ As much as I enjoyed being Jax’s wife, let’s face it—I sucked at it.” I sighed and covered my face with my hands.
    Mother patted my head. “Listen to me: Jackson Devereaux started out being a great husband and then one day decided his marriage no longer mattered to him. It takes two--and he checked out.”
    “I hear you, but I wanted so badly for it to work and it still feels like one of my biggest failures. I’m not interested in a second one.” 
    “Come on.” Mother took my hand and led me into the living room. “There must be some awful movie we can watch on television.”
    I took my Glock out of the desk drawer and put it under a magazine on the coffee table. “When you get tired you can sleep in my room; there’s a gun in the bedside drawer. I’m going to sleep down here.”
    * * *
    It felt like I only slept ten minutes, waking early the next morning to the smell of coffee brewing and Mother and Creole sitting at the island. Sitting on the counter was a pink box from my favorite place, The Bakery Café. Mother always over indulged so I knew it was chock-full of goodies.
    “Gabriel’s dead,” Creole said.
    Mother handed me a cup of coffee.
    I gasped. “Where’s Fab?  Please tell me she isn’t dead.” I gripped the counter.
    “Not one hundred percent sure, but my guess would be that Fab’s in hiding,” Creole said as he refilled his coffee. “She’s been labeled a person of interest.”
    Creole shook his finger at me. “Don’t get arrested trying to help Fab. This is a double-murder investigation.”
    “Double murder,” I whispered. “Who’s the other person?”
    Mother sat next to Creole. I could tell by the look on her face that she already wormed the grisly details out of him.
    “Gabriel was found dead on the back lawn of the estate of Maxwell and Chrissy Wright out on Fisher Island. Police found Maxwell face down in his study, both he and Gabriel with bullet wounds to the back of the head; twenty-five million dollars in art and jewelry stolen from the mansion. The security system was rendered ineffective, including the back-up systems, and the tapes from the cameras are missing,” Creole told us. “It mirrors a couple of heists Fab and Gabriel pulled off in France, although the murder angle would be new.”
    “Fab would never kill anyone or Gabriel would’ve been dead a long time ago,” I said.
    Creole stared at me. “Do you happen to know where Fab is right now?”
    I shook my head. “Don’t take this the wrong way but I’m not helping you arrest Fab.” 
    “Here’s the deal. I won’t use anything you tell me against her.” Creole grabbed my arm. “But if I hear it from someone else then I have no choice. I’m on Fab’s side until it’s proven beyond any doubt to me that she’s guilty.”
    “I agree with Madison, Fab’s no killer.” Mother stared at Creole, refilling her coffee. She pointed to his cup, he nodded and she topped his off.
    “Why would Fab murder Maxwell Wright? I’ve never heard her mention his name.” Anybody who didn’t live under a rock had heard of the Wrights. The über-rich made headlines all the time, mostly on the covers of the local magazines that catered to the wealthy. “Is there one piece of evidence that leads to Fab?”
    I leaped for my phone when it rang; disappointed it wasn’t Fab’s name on the screen, but Detective Harder’s. I exploded at Creole, “I’m not helping the Miami police with anything to do with this case! You and your friend,” I said pointing to my phone that just landed in the living room, “Can call my lawyer.”
    I stomped upstairs to shower.
    * * *
    I wiggled into my favorite jean skirt, which had two big pockets in the front for my cell phone and keys, and strapped on my thigh holster. In the shower, I had made a mental list of people I needed to call. I had no idea where to start looking, but I knew Fab would never come back here if