Madison Westin 02-Deception in Paradise by Deborah Brown Page A

failed to tell me there were seventeen eyewitnesses, and the police interviewed every one of them. Everyone in the neighborhood had been sitting out on their porch that day. Funny thing, I couldn’t pass for a six-foot, blond-haired man. I could’ve gone to jail.”
    “You weren’t arrested.”
    “I was handcuffed and forced to sit in the back of a police car for over an hour. They let me think I was on my way to be booked into county jail. In case you care, I decided then it was the last time I would lie for anyone.”
    “Do this one damn thing. You do this, and the whole situation goes away, and I’ll leave town tomorrow.”
    “I’m not doing it.”
    “I’m going to go shower. In case the cops show up, I’m sliding out the back. I’ll lay low for a few days, and they’ll either go away, or they can deal with my lawyer,” Jax said.
    I decided it wasn’t a good time to tell him Pavel died from a gunshot wound. He’d trip over himself getting out the door, leave town, and leave me to answer questions that I didn’t have the answers to. He wasn’t one to confront his problems head on if there was an easier way, one that didn’t include confrontation. He liked being Goodtime Jax. I’d told him one time that a person was judged by their word, and his was crap. He’d smiled and walked away.
    He stared at me, trying to decide what his next bad decision would be. He started to speak, changed his mind, and got up and went upstairs.
    “Clean up the sand on the floor,” I yelled after him. Maybe it would be better if he left town. I didn’t know what to think. Eventually, he’d be caught because he wasn’t smart enough to stay out of trouble. Before he went anywhere, I needed to get my house issue settled. Ever since the first day I’d found him sitting on my couch, I’d been sucking down yogurt for my chronic stomachache.
    I had to get out of the house, away from Jax and images of a murder I had nothing to do with. I grabbed a couple of plastic sand pails, went out the door, and headed for the beach.
     
     

CHAPTER 15
     
     
    I stood at the kitchen sink washing my seashells, having collected four buckets full. The long walk in the warm sand with the breeze blowing through my hair had felt good as I bent over every after other step, picking up shells. I looked out the window. The gate stood open in the front, and a sheriff’s car sat on the other side of the street. A dark sedan pulled up behind it. I shut off the water and ran for my cell phone. I hurriedly called Cruz Campion.
    “This is Madison Westin. Is Mr. Campion in?”
    “Hi, Madison. It’s Susie.” Cruz’s assistant was always friendly, but I had to go through her to speak to him.
    “He said to call when the sheriff showed up, and they’re banging on my door as we speak.”
    “Go open the door and find out who’s the investigator in charge. Mr. Campion’s out of the office; I’ll text him the info.”
    I went to the door and looked out the peephole. Kevin and Detective Harder stood there. Thank goodness for Kevin. Harder and I had history, and it wasn’t pleasant. Harder hated Zach and so, by extension, he hated me.
    “Susie, its Kevin Cory, and Detective Harder.”
    “Don’t say anything, and Cruz will get back to you.”
    I pasted a smile on my face and opened the door. “Hi, guys.”
    “We’d like to talk to you. Can we come in?” Kevin asked.
    “No.” I should’ve taken Jax’s idea and snuck out the back door.
    “What does that mean?” Kevin asked, looking uncomfortable.
    “Do you have a search warrant?”
    Neither of them said a word.
    “It means you can’t come in,” I said. “What do you want?” I looked at Detective Harder.
    “Where’s the boat?” Harder demanded. “I have questions about the accident.”
    “My lawyer is Cruz Campion, and he said not to answer any questions until he got here.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but Harder didn’t know that.
    “You got yourself a good lawyer this time.