Nancy J. Cohen - Bad Hair Day 04 - Body Wave

by Body Wave

  Morris leaned his elbow on the fireplace mantel. "They're not really cherries in the sense that you mean."

  "How so? Does coffee grow on trees, or is it a plant?"

  A hint of amusement seeped into his eyes. "Let me start at the beginning. The three most cultivated types of beans are arabica, robusta, and liberica. Arabica beans taste better because they grow at higher elevations. They account for nearly seventy percent of the world's coffee production."

  "I remember reading somewhere that they come from Africa."

  "That's true, the first arabica coffee plant was discovered in Ethiopia. However, Africa and the Far East account for only forty percent of the market share. Columbia, Brazil, and Central American countries produce the rest."

  His cadence of speech increased, as though she'd wound up a toy that needed to spend its energy. "We plant the beans in moist, fertile soil. Seeds germinate six to eight weeks later. At this stage, healthy seedlings are transplanted to nurseries." He gestured animatedly. "When the nursery plants reach two feet high, we remove them to our plantation. Here it takes up to five years for the tree to mature. It can grow as tall as twenty feet high, but usually we prune them to under twelve feet."

  "What does the tree look like?"

  "It has glossy evergreen leaves and blooms with fragrant white flowers."

  "The tree bears fruit?" Marla refilled the old lady's teacup from a silver service set on a cocktail table.

  Morris nodded. "After blossoms appear, it takes six to nine months more for the trees to produce the rich red berries that we call coffee cherries. The size of the cherries depends on the amount of water received during the sprouting process, so plenty of rainfall is desirable. Ripened cherries are handpicked. Harvesting can take as long six months, so unripe cherries have a chance to be picked later in the season after they mature."

  "Where does the coffee bean come from?" Marla glanced at her patient. Miriam seemed content to watch her son, pride glowing on her face.

  "In the center of the cherries are two seeds. These are the green coffee beans," he explained. "Each bean is covered by a thin parchment skin. The pulping process removes pulp and debris, then the beans are fermented using either a wet or dry technique. The wet fermentation process gives the beans more acidity, while the dry method gives them more body."

  "Which one do you use?"

  "We wash the beans. The drying method is too dependent on the weather, and you get more debris."

  "So what happens next?"

  "A huller removes the silver skin and parchment and polishes the beans. They're sorted and graded by standards set for coffee roasters, with Grade One being the best quality. The higher the altitude where they're grown, the hardier and better the coffee bean. Lastly, the beans are roasted."

  "Did you tell her about the poisons you put on the plants?" demanded Florence from the entry.

  * * *

  *Chapter Twelve*

  Morris's mouth curved downward as he regarded his sister. "Pesticides are necessary to control insects."

  Florence sashayed into the room, her slim figure looking svelte in a pastel pink suit enhanced by enough jewelry to open a store. "If you grew the plants in their naturally shaded habitat, nature would take care of the bugs. You wouldn't need chemicals, plus you'd preserve the tree canopy where migratory birds nest. Good morning, Mother. Hello, Marla," she added in a condescending tone.

  "I remember Barbara said you're helping with a fund-raiser," Marla said.

  "Yes, I believe it's for a worthy cause." She patted her hair, swept into a classical French twist. "Did you know birds are losing their habitats to high-tech farms at an alarming rate? Without their shade canopy, coffee plants exposed to the sun need more fertilizer. Those high-tech farms lack natural predators that control insects, making pesticides necessary. There's more erosion, toxic runoff, and loss of trees. Our organization promotes shade-grown coffee production which preserves the forests."

  "You're not considering the practical applications," Morris protested. "Our methods produce higher yields. Besides, you should support your own plantations. That's where our money comes from!"

  "Blame your wife for involving me. Barbara says our company could just as well invest in traditional coffee farms."

  "We don't have enough capital to invest right now!"

  "That's your problem. Mother, I just wanted to see how you felt this morning. I have to meet Elise Addison at the country club. She's putting together a cookbook that we'll sell at the fashion show."

  "Elise? You mean Stan's neighbor?" Marla blurted. When all eyes turned to her, she realized her mistake. "I mean, Kimberly used to play tennis with her. We're, uh, acquainted."

  "Really?" Florence crooned. "I'll ask her about you."

  _Bless my bones, now you've done it. Quick, change the subject._ "Have you noticed your mother's new hairdo?"

  Florence's eyes widened in surprise as she swung her gaze to the matriarch. "Why, Mother, I thought you looked different! I love it. What have you done?"

  The old lady waved a finger. "Marla fixed me up. Next week, she's promised to dye my hair. I'll tell Agnes to take some lessons from her!"

  Marla gulped. _That's just what Agnes needs to hear._

  * * * *

  "I don't know how much longer I'll be able to play my part," Marla told Vail the next day during their drive to Tarpon Springs. "Someone in Miriam's household will tag me, and I'll be fired. I hope they don't summon you to arrest me."

  "Why would they do that?" He gave her a bemused glance.

  "For taking the job under false pretenses, or invading their privacy." Nervous laughter hid her anxiety. "I had such a good time with Miriam yesterday, wheeling her around Galleria Mall. We bought a few things at Burdines and ate lunch at Vie de France. Miriam encountered one of her friends. I'm afraid she'll hate me when she discovers our game."

  "You really like the old lady, don't you?"

  "I do." Marla folded her hands in her lap. "She's sharpminded, retains a sense of humor, and has interesting stories to tell when anyone bothers to listen. It's such a shame her family doesn't treat her better."

  They sped past the Miccosukee Service Plaza on Alligator Alley, heading west toward Naples before veering north on I-75. Evergreens mixed with sable palms and cypress trees in the flat landscape bordering the highway. Winter was the best season for spotting wildlife in the Everglades, especially birds. Besides the usual graceful egrets and white ibis, she caught sight of an anhinga and a great blue heron feeding by a slough.

  After searching in vain for alligators sunning on logs, she shifted her gaze to study the fluffy clouds overhead. Where else could you enjoy an infinite blue sky with a three-hundred-sixty-degree view? A sense of primeval peace pervaded the place, from its eastern fringes hedged by sawgrass, on through the Big Cypress National Preserve.

  "Have you thought about how we're going to present ourselves at the Ministry of Hope?" she asked. "Will you mention that you're investigating a murder? Do we even know Jeremiah Dooley will be there?"

  A devilish grin transformed Vail's craggy face. Marla's toes curled with warmth. Seated beside him in his car, she was acutely aware of his presence and his sideways glances in her direction. Her heightened senses detected every movement he made and recorded every expression on his face.

  "When I phoned them, I said we'd watched Dooley's show on television and were considering a major contribution," Vail replied. "I said we hoped to tour their facility and meet personally with the minister before writing a check. After I mentioned the word _donation,_ doors opened."

  Marla chuckled. "Well, I hope I look the part of someone rich enough. I wore pants because I knew we'd be sitting in the car most of the day." She'd brought along a rust-colored blazer to go with her silk eggshell blouse and black slacks. Gold button earrings and a Rado watch were her only accessories.

  "Oh, I almost forgot." Struggling against his seat belt, Vail reached inside his trousers pocket and withdrew a small o
bject that he handed to her. "Here, you'll need this."

  Marla fingered the black velvet box. Her jaw dropped when she opened the hinged lid and saw the ring inside. A brilliant purple stone was surrounded by two tiny diamonds in a gold setting. "What's this?" Her voice held a tremor.

  "I told them we were engaged. Put it on your left finger."

  Too stunned to protest, Marla slid the unexpected gift on her ring finger. It fit perfectly. _Don't get too excited_, she told herself. This must be a loaner, part of her disguise.

  "You can keep it," he said casually. "Consider it another Valentine's Day gift."

  "Amethyst is my birthstone," she murmured, "but I can't accept this, Dalton." Her words died on her lips as she regarded his smoldering gaze.

  "I want you to have it, regardless of how things turn out between us." His hand snaked over to cover her thigh. "You know how I'd like them to turn out, or should I say turn on."

  Speaking of turn-ons, the weight of his hand on her thigh did strange things to her body. Her imagination took flight, and she imagined his touch creeping northward. When he began lazy circles with his index finger, her breathing quickened.

  "Stop that," she said, swatting him away. A lock of hair fell in her face, and she pushed it behind her ear.

  "Why? You like it when I touch you, and Brianna isn't here to interfere this time."

  Marla moistened her lips, acutely aware of how handsome he was in his customary charcoal suit. Stretched against his broad shoulders, the jacket made him look like a football star. His coal black hair, parted on the side, revealed silvery highlights in the sunshine streaming through their windows.

  "I'd rather talk about the case," she said, effectively changing the subject. "Florence mentioned she knew Elise Addison. They're working together on a fund-raiser benefiting some bird society. What I find interesting is that their goals conflict with the Pearl family business."

  "How so?" Gripping the steering wheel, he reverted to his businesslike demeanor. Up ahead was the tollbooth situated before the highway turned north toward Fort Myers.

  "Morris's wife, Barbara, promotes shade-grown coffee. She got Florence interested, and now they're dragging Stella into the loop to do centerpieces. In traditional farms, tall shade trees protect the smaller coffee plants from the sun, provide mulch, and harbor natural predators that control insects. At large plantations, many of these trees are being cut down in order to increase production. Barbara's group supports organically grown coffee because it preserves the tropical forests; the tree canopy serves as a refuge for migratory songbirds. Morris, on the other hand, could care less. He's converted his plantations to high-tech farms that abuse the environment."

  Vail's face folded into a puzzled frown. "What does this have to do with Kimberly?"

  "Morris's plantations are located in the same countries as Jeremiah Dooley's ministry operations. That may or may not be a coincidence."

  "Was the deceased involved in this conservation cause?"

  "No. According to Stella, Kim's most recent hobby was genealogy. I wonder if Stan found anything in her files." She chewed on her lower lip, oblivious to the scenery whizzing by.

  "Where do you want to stop for lunch?" Vail said after an interlude of silence.

  "I'd rather wait until we're in Tarpon Springs. Tally mentioned some good restaurants there. I hope you like Greek food."

  "I'll eat anything." He cast a suggestive glance in her direction, and she got the distinct feeling he was talking about something other than a meal. Her gaze fell to his chiseled mouth, and she remembered how his lips tasted pressed to hers. Her thoughts roamed to the other night at her townhouse. What would have happened if Brianna hadn't interrupted with a phone call?

  _Stop it, Marla. You're getting distracted._

  His grin broadened as though he knew what she was thinking. Her cheeks warmed under his scrutiny. _Think fast, say something else._ "I should visit Elise again and sound her out regarding the Pearls. Do you think Kimberly knew about her connection with Florence?"

  "Possibly."

  "I got the distinct impression Elise thought her husband Cliff was having an affair with Kim. Do you think Elise shared her suspicions with Florence? Maybe that's why Florence said Kim was messing in things she didn't understand."

  Vail raised a bushy eyebrow. "Kim had been fooling around with someone," he conceded. "Did Stan find out and kill her in a rage?"

  Marla zeroed in on his mention of Stan. "Here we go, back to my dear ex again. Why don't you consider other possibilities? Lacey, for example. Kim's classmates said she'd fixed her sights on Gary. Lacey could have killed Kim in a jealous fit."

  "How would she have obtained Stan's letter opener?"

  "That's for you to figure out." Her stomach rumbled, and she pulled a bag of cheese crackers from her purse. They still had three more hours to go before reaching their destination, and she'd never last that long before lunch. "Want some?"

  "Sure." He held out his open palm.

  "I brought an extra water bottle if you're thirsty," she offered. "Oh, I have something else for you to investigate. Miriam's nurse, Agnes, keeps the old lady confined in her room. Maybe I'm paranoid, but I sense she has more than a professional interest in keeping Miriam dependent on her. On her days off, Agnes visits her sister in a convalescent home. At least, that's what she told Miriam. I'd like to know if this is the real _megillah._ Can you find out?"

  Vail's face creased into a smile as he cast a tender look her way. "You act like Miriam is related to you."

  "I hate how Agnes smothers her spirit. Aside from a mild case of heart failure, she's in good health. There's no reason for her to be stuck in bed when she could be meeting friends and getting out more."

  "Maybe her family members have their own reasons why they want her secluded." Vail reached for the spare water bottle, unscrewed the cap, and took a long swallow.

  She stared at him. "Such as hiding the company's losses? Miriam hasn't given up her hold over the family finances; she checks the accounts with Agnes's help."

  "Morris can't be happy about his mother's supervision. She must think he's incompetent."

  "Maybe Kimberly found out their company was losing money and threatened to tell her grandmother. Morris killed her before she could rat on him."

  He snorted in disbelief. "Did Kim care that much about the family business?"

  "Not really," Marla said, remembering her conversation with Stella.

  "I thought you said Miriam mentioned declining profits."

  "That's right. Morris explained that inventories were lower because of frost damage." She paused. "I wonder if that's a valid excuse. If supplies for a commodity are lower, wouldn't prices skyrocket?"

  "Are you implying Morris may be covering up for a financial loss?"

  "Who knows? He might be afraid his mother will fire him if she still holds the legal strings."

  "Fire her own son? Doubtful."

  "Maybe Barbara decided to get Kim out of the way. Would she kill for Morris to keep his job?"

  "You just said she doesn't approve of his methods of coffee production."

  "She'd have to support him if she wants his income." Her argument sounded weak even to her own ears. Barbara hadn't struck her as being greedy. Florence, on the other hand, would be concerned with keeping her social position. Was that enough motive for murder?

  "Look, there's an outlet mall. Too bad we don't have time to stop."

  "I'd rather take you shopping when there isn't another case hanging over my head," Vail stated in a morose tone.

  "We don't get too much time together, do we? I mean, when there are no murders to discuss, no children. Just the two of us." She hoped he didn't take her comment about children the wrong way. Marla didn't mean to dismiss Brianna, but she'd like to have Vail to herself. Today they were alone, but again she used the crutch of suspects to put distance between them. What would happen when their relationship didn't revolve around his work?

  After crossi
ng Tampa Bay on the Sunshine Skyway, they headed north on Route 19 into Tarpon Springs.

  "Our appointment isn't until four o'clock," Vail said when they arrived at their destination, "so we have some free time. Let's have lunch, and then I thought we'd ask folks around town about Dooley's ministry."

  They drove past the historical district and followed signs to the Sponge Docks. Dodecanese Boulevard bustled with activity. Crowds milled along the sidewalks, while people gawked at gift shops, Greek restaurants, and fishing boats bobbing on the water. Marla's legs ached to take a stroll. Vail pulled into a two-dollar parking lot.