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

actively sought to put her in jail for suspected criminal tendencies he had yet to prove.
    “They planned to move to the Bahamas right after the ceremony,” he went on. “Hot shot got a job at a 5-star resort as their executive chef, lots of money and perks. Then he disappeared, never even showed up for the job. Hopped a plane to Switzerland and I hoped he’d never return, but he’s back. Lizzie has been mildly stalking him, which worries me––but she wants answers and, so far, he’s successfully eluded her. I’d like to kill him, but I’d rather play golf than sit in prison.”
    “What do you want us to do?” I asked.
    Fab developed a nervous twitch and started kicking my calf. After the third time, I pinched the top of her leg and didn’t let go until she knocked my hand away. She kicked me one last time, and got up and went to stand by the window.
    “I want you to get answers for Lizzie. It would be a breach of ethics to allocate police resources for personal use. The last chief over-stepped and now is banned.”
    “What the hell are the questions?” Fab turned and demanded.
    “You’re a woman, what would you want to know?” He grimaced and looked sorry he had no one else to call. “I planned to turn it over to Brick, but he told me none of his men would take the job. Said I’d have better luck if I called you myself since you like me better than him.” He gave us a toothy grin.
    “That’s hardly an endorsement,” Fab spoke up.
    “Since our short stay in your dreadful facilities, we’ve both been ignoring Brick’s phone calls. The next day, Creole stopped by his office for a friendly chat. Brick stopped burning up our phones,” I said. “Is the information correct on the driver’s license?”
    Harder shoved a piece of paper across his desk. “Here’s all the pertinent info. I expect a deal.”
    Fab stood up. “Tell you what, we’ll bill you triple, then give it to Brick to pay.”
    His phone rang. “I’ve got to take this,” he said.
    We waved, taking the opportunity to slip out the door.
    “Let’s get the heck out of here.” Fab hit the elevator button.
    “I’ll call Mac and have her run a background check on Dane Thorson. He’s got a Miami Beach address so let’s do a drive by and check the place out. I’ll knock on the wrong door and see what the neighbors have to say, worked for me in the past.”
    “I can’t believe how neighbors will rat each other out so easily,” Fab mused. “Do you think we can expense a quick trip to the Bahamas to check out that angle?”
    “Didn’t you hear the word ‘deal’? I think if we put in an award-winning performance we could squeeze the information out of a helpful employee over the phone.”
    “We? Just so we’re clear, you take care of the ‘we’ business, and I’ll drive.”
    I quickly perused Harder’s notes. “The resort name is the Ocean Club. Harder made a note in the margin. It says, ‘Why?’”
    The guard at the main desk asked for our visitor badges. I dropped mine on the counter and signed us out.
    “I left mine on Chief Harder’s desk.” Fab maintained eye contact with the man and licked her lips. I thought he’d fall off his stool.
    As soon as the door closed, I pulled on the back of her jeans. “Liar,” I whispered. “Empty your pockets.”
    She jerked away. “You don’t need me on this job. I’m not interested.”
    “Oh,” I clucked, “you lamenting the fact that a gun fight might not break out? You’re thinking, ‘give all the boring jobs to Madison.’”
    She scanned the parking lot, unlocking the SUV doors. “Sorry, but yes.”
    “I don’t give a damn about how bored you get. Your skinny ass will accompany me every step on this job and if you don’t I’ll tell Creole, Didier, and Mother.”
    She scrunched her eyes closed. “That’s mean. All three?”
    “I’ll have Creole go last and insist he choke you after he’s done with one of his infuriating lectures where he repeats himself