A Deadly Slice of Lime: A Key West Culinary Cozy - Book 6

by Summer Prescott

  “Trudy suggested that I catch her in the act of not being hurt, so that’s exactly what I intend to do,” Marilyn replied with great resolve.

  “How do you propose to do that?” her daughter said through a mouthful of potatoes.

  “Simple, I’m going to spy on her,” she proclaimed, choosing to ignore the young woman’s temporary lack of etiquette, chalking it up to her traumatic afternoon.

  “In what way?” Tiara put her fork down, staring at her mother warily.

  “I’m going to find out where she lives and stake out her house. Whenever she leaves, I’ll follow. Wherever she goes, I’ll be there too…watching and waiting,” she explained casually.

  “I don’t think that’s such a great idea, Mom.”

  “What? Why not?” Marilyn asked.

  “What if she sees you? And how long are you going to do this?” Tiara grilled her.

  “For as long as it takes. Honey, I don’t have four million dollars to give this woman.”

  “Well, I know that, but who is going to take your place at the shop? Are Kelcie and I just supposed to pick up all of the slack? That doesn’t sound very fair,” she protested.

  “Fair or not, it has to happen this way,” Marilyn didn’t budge an inch. “You two can handle it, you’re more than capable. If you recall, you and I ran the shop for quite a while before Kelcie came along,” she reminded her daughter.

  “Yeah, and the sales volume was far less,” Tiara pointed out.

  “Then, I’ll shut it down for a while if I have to,” she insisted. “This is important – I can’t just let it go.”

  Tiara sighed. “You can’t shut it down, that’ll look suspicious. We’ll manage, just…just be careful, okay? We don’t know what kind of people that we’re dealing with,” her eyes were filled with concern, making Marilyn feel glad that she hadn’t told her about Melvin Bland’s visit earlier in the day.

  “Of course I’ll be careful, honey. I can handle this,” her mother reassured her. “Since you finished your dinner, I believe a slice of pie is in order,” she suggested with a wink.

  “I believe that you’re correct,” Tiara smiled faintly, deciding to let it go.

  Chapter 7

  Marilyn sat in her car with the engine off, not wanting to burn through all of her gas and ruin the ozone layer by running her air conditioning. Beads of sweat formed on her upper lip in the heat of the mid-morning Florida sun. She’d been sitting down the street from Elizabeth Melman’s modest little ranch house for three days running now, and while she’d seen Melvin come and go a couple of times, she’d had yet to spot the doddering deceiver herself, and she was getting more than a bit frustrated with the whole situation. Luck was on her side this morning however, and shortly after ten, Melvin came out from the side yard, pushing Lizzie in a wheelchair. She quickly pulled out her cell phone and snapped a picture of the woman, who certainly didn’t seem to be in pain.

  Fortunately, the deceptive duo headed down the street away from where Marilyn sat in her car, and, as soon as they were far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to hear the opening and closing of the car door, she took off after them on foot. They were apparently out for a leisurely stroll and headed for a nearby park. Plenty of trees and bushes dotted the landscape, so Marilyn was able to follow closely enough to hear their voices, but was too far away to actually detect what they were saying. Aunt and nephew stopped to rest in the shade of a tree that stood about ten feet from a sandstone building that housed bathrooms. Marilyn peered around the corner of the building and noticed that directly above where the couple stood, there was a large beehive, with bees actively buzzing about, and an idea that was simple but profound popped into her head.

  Glancing about to make certain that no one else was in the vicinity of the tree and the bathroom building, she crouched down and picked up a rock that was roughly the size of a golf ball, thankful that she had elected to play softball in high school rather than soccer. She did another quick check to make sure that no innocent park-goers might be caught up in her plan, then, seeing that the path was clear, she gauged the distance, wound up as though she were on the mound again, and let the stone fly as hard as she could, the beehive its intended target.

  The first indication that she had nailed her target was the sudden and frantic increase in activity at the hive, and the accidental thud as the stone dropped squarely on Melvin Bland’s head. Before he could even look up to see what had hit him, he began madly slapping at himself and running toward the algae-covered pond in the park, with Litigation Lizzie at his heels, magically cured of whatever hip ailment had allegedly put her in the chair. Marilyn got it all on her phone, hoping belatedly that neither of them was allergic to bees. When one of the nasty little creatures stung her just above the elbow, she stifled a scream and disappeared behind the building, fleeing through the bushes on the other side. She was most of the way back to her car when Melvin and Lizzie emerged, dripping, from the pond, green slime and particles clinging to their clothing. Figuring that she’d had enough of an adventure for one day, Marilyn headed home.

  **

  The day after the beehive incident, Marilyn was sipping coffee in her usual observation spot, down the street from Litigation Lizzie’s house, when a tap on her window startled her badly enough to cause her to splash hot coffee all over her pale yellow tank top. Jerking her head to the right, she saw tall-dark-and-handsome Detective Bernard Cortland, standing there, looking into the car.

  “Hi,” she smiled brightly, after rolling down the window, despite her annoyance at the spilled coffee.

  “Good morning,” Bernard said casually. “What brings you here at this hour?” he asked, glancing at his watch.

  “Oh…uh…I just…I’m enjoying some coffee in the shade before I head in to the shop,” she flashed another smile.

  “Mmmhmm…and why have you been enjoying coffee in this particular spot all day, every day this week?” the detective raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Ummm…what? I don’t understand…” she faltered.

  Bernard broke in before she could make something up. “We got a call from the neighbors, complaining about a woman sitting in a car all day. When I ran the license plate and saw that it was you, I came out myself, rather than sending a patrol car. Wanna tell me what’s going on here, Marilyn?” he asked, peering at her over the top of his Wayfarer sunglasses.

  “No,” she shook her head, not wanting to look at him.

  “Are you doing something illegal?” he probed.

  “No!” she exclaimed. “At least…I don’t think so.”

  “Okay, I’m going to have to ask you to find somewhere outside of this area to have your morning coffee,” he directed, seeing that she wasn’t going to elaborate.

  She bit her lower lip, saying nothing, but giving him a pained look.

  He sighed, wishing that he didn’t have such a soft spot for the winsome pie shop owner. “Are you in trouble, Marilyn?” he asked quietly.

  “It’s a long story, Bernard,” she frowned, wishing that she could enlist his help, but knowing that there was little or nothing that he could do in a civil matter.

  “I can only imagine,” the detective remarked dryly. “I’m not going to escort you out of the neighborhood, but I can’t leave until you do, so…” he made a subtle “move along” gesture by inclining his head.

  “I’m going, I’m going,” Marilyn sighed, putting her half-empty cup of coffee back into the cup-holder, and turning on the ignition. “Thanks for not subjecting me to the long arm of the law,” she smiled.

  Bernard inclined his head in acknowledgment, told her to have a good day, and went back to his car. She watched him walk away in the rearview, and had a moment of wondering what life would be like if she wasn’t so busy all the time.

  Chapter 8

  Marilyn and Kelcie were crushing walnuts to blend in with the graham cracker crumbs that were used for the Key Lime tart crusts, when Tiara came in the back door of the commercial kitchen,
looking stressed.

  “You’re early this morning,” her mother remarked, glancing up at the Felix the Cat clock that hung next to the kitchen door.

  “I didn’t get to teach my Yoga on the Beach class this morning because the police had that whole section blocked off with crime scene tape,” she sighed.

  “Wow, I wonder what happened,” Kelcie said, spooning some butter into a glass dish to melt.

  “No idea,” Tiara shook her head. “I’m just really bummed out because, when I don’t start my day with that kind of focus and relaxation, things don’t usually go as well,” she shrugged.

  “Well, we’ll just concentrate on doing everything we can to make it a great day,” Marilyn chimed in optimistically. “I do wonder what’s going on though.”

  “Yeah, me too. Guess we’ll find out when we watch the news later,” her daughter replied. “Since I’m here early, I’m going to start working on the marketing plan that we’ll implement for the expansion. We’re getting closer and closer.”

  “Unless of course I have to pay out four million dollars to a lying old woman,” her mother made a face. She hadn’t told Tiara yet about the bee incident, or about having been caught spying by Bernard Cortland. She clearly had to figure out another plan of attack.

  “Well, I’m going to proceed on the assumption that she’s not going to be able to swindle you out of that money,” Tiara tossed over her shoulder as she headed for the front counter computer.

  **

  Marilyn had sold out of almost everything. She, Tiara and Kelcie had been hopping, with cruise ship customers, tourists and locals all day, and by the time the sign on the door had been turned over to Closed, there was very little stock to box up for the homeless shelter and children’s home. Tiara finished counting up the receipts and register cash, announcing that they’d had their single biggest day of sales to date, receiving excited applause from Kelcie and her mother.

  “Okay ladies, that means we celebrate tonight – if you two don’t have any other plans, that is,” she offered with a broad grin.

  Before either of the young women could answer, Tiara’s father, Daniel, came bursting in through the front door.

  “Mar, I know we’ve had our differences, but I really need your help this time,” he said, rushing over to her, eyes wide.

  Kelcie politely excused herself, not wanting to stay anywhere near the potentially incredibly awkward family situation. Marilyn and Tiara were so fixated upon the man who had come charging into the store that they barely heard her say goodbye.

  “Daniel, I thought that I had made it perfectly clear…” Marilyn began, her teeth clenched.

  “Dad, what’s wrong?” her daughter interrupted, seeing her dad’s uncharacteristic pallor. Her mother gave the two of them a scorching glare, but held her tongue and waited for his answer.

  “My friend, Brad, went missing last night. I just assumed that he’d gone out for a few drinks after I went to bed and found…someone that he was…interested in,” Daniel explained awkwardly. Tiara rolled her eyes, imagining the awkward attempts that Brad had made, and her father continued.

  “Anyway, he apparently never came back to his room at the hotel, and wasn’t answering his cell phone. I woke up to the sound of the police pounding at my door just before the sun came up, and they asked me all sorts of questions about Brad, and why we were traveling together, how long I’d known him, stuff like that,” Daniel ran his hand through his thick golden-going-grey hair, clearly upset.

  “So, I answered all of their questions as best I could – I was still half asleep and had a throbbing headache – then they asked me to get dressed and come with them.”

  “Hungover?” Marilyn asked snidely.

  “Irrelevant, Mom. Please,” Tiara gave her a warning look, and she crossed her arms, listening to her ex’s story, but choosing to remain hostile. “Where did they want you to go after you got dressed?” she asked, frowning.

  “They put me in the back of a patrol car and took me to the beach, where there was an area roped off with crime scene tape,” he replied. Tiara’s eyes widened and she exchanged a worried look with her mother.

  “I asked them why we were there, and they told me that they had reason to believe that I might be able to identify a body that had been pulled out of the water. I felt sick to my stomach and hoped that whatever had happened didn’t involve Brad,” he paled and swallowed hard, taking a minute before continuing.

  “Was it Brad? Was it his body that had been in the water?” Tiara asked softly, her eyes filled with compassion. Brad may have been awkward and a bit strange, but he and Daniel were quite obviously very good friends.

  The muscles in his jaw flexed as Daniel worked to maintain his composure, and too overcome to speak, he merely nodded, looking down at the floor.

  “Oh, Dad, I’m so sorry,” she said, moving in to give him an awkward hug. They hadn’t been close for quite some time, but her heart went out to her father in his grief.

  Marilyn stood back, observing. While, as a human being, she felt sad about the man named Brad who’d suffered an untimely demise, she couldn’t quite bring herself to feel anything but a vague uneasiness toward the man who had emotionally manipulated her for almost the entirety of their marriage. She knew his potential for cruelty on an emotional level, but didn’t know whether she thought that he was capable of terminal foul play. One thing that she did know for certain, was that she didn’t want her beloved daughter anywhere near him until she found out.

  “Do the police have any idea as to how he…died?” she asked quietly, as Tiara disengaged from his embrace and went to grab them all a bracing cup of Costa Rican coffee.

  “That’s the strange part,” Daniel shook his head. “They pulled his body from the ocean, but he didn’t drown…his throat had been slashed.”

  Marilyn glanced away from her ex-husband, not wanting him to recognize the fear that flared in her eyes at his statement. She knew for a fact that he carried a razor-sharp hunting knife wherever he went, not because he was a hunter, but because it was the only item he’d kept when his father passed away several years ago, when Tiara was a baby. She knew that Daniel could be very protective toward people that he either cared about or felt that he owned, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Brad’s sad attempt to flirt with her daughter had been a fatal mistake.

  “That’s awful,” she murmured, glad that Tiara came back at that moment with three cups of coffee.

  “The worst part is that there was this one detective…Cortland, I think his name was, that kept looking at me like he thought that I was the one who offed Brad,” Daniel choked off the last part of his sentence, seemingly overcome with emotion.

  “Here, Dad, come sit,” Tiara led him to the nearest bistro table and exchanged another troubled glance with her mother.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” he shook his head as he sank into the gaily painted lemon and lime chair.

  “I’m sure the police will figure out who the real killer is soon enough,” she soothed, looking at her mother for back-up.

  “Sweetie, I have to run the leftovers out to the shelter and the children’s home. You two take as much time here as you need, and just lock up when you leave, okay?” Marilyn asked, not waiting before escaping to the kitchen. Tiara told her father that she’d be right back and followed her.

  “Are you seriously going to bail on me right now?” she whispered, cornering her mother in the back office.

  Marilyn stared hard at her daughter. “Just what is it exactly that you’d like me to do here, Tiara?” she demanded. “Am I supposed to dote on him and keep him company? Because if that’s what you’re expecting, I’m going to have to profoundly disappoint you.”

  “Can you at least put in a good word for him with Detective Cortland? He likes you, your endorsement could help them start looking in the right direction instead of suspecting Dad of killing his own friend,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder as though she expected to see Dan
iel standing in the hall behind her.

  Her mother said nothing, trying to make her expression as neutral as possible. Tiara’s eyes narrowed.

  “You’re not going to intervene because you want him to go down for this,” she accused. “You’re still so scarred by your divorce that you’d allow an innocent man to go to jail. That’s utterly despicable, Mother. I expected more from you,” the young woman hissed.

  “Don’t you dare accuse me of such things, young lady. You have no idea what you’re talking about and I will not tolerate that kind of disrespect. I knew your father a long time ago, and no, the man that I knew, as nasty as he could sometimes be, I would not suspect of having the capacity to do something like this. I have no idea who your father is now, Tiara. He could be running a drug smuggling ring for all I know. The police know what they’re doing, and if he’s innocent, they’ll be able to figure that out soon enough. I’m going to do the smart thing and just stay out of everyone’s way. What you do is your business, but I’d prefer that you not get involved in this mess,” Marilyn shot back, tears in her eyes.

  “You weren’t so confident of the police’s ability to solve the crime when I was a suspect, remember that? You don’t want to get involved? Fine. If you don’t have the heart for it, I do. Someone has to stand up for what’s right, and if you don’t have the guts, I guess it’ll have to be me,” Tiara replied, her eyes frozen chips of ice.

  “Tiara, honey…” Marilyn called after her as she headed back to the front.

  “Go drop off the food, Mom. Run away. The adults will figure out what to do,” her daughter retorted bitterly, not bothering to turn around.

  Chapter 9

  Marilyn leaned her head back against her back patio lounger and closed her eyes, wine glass in hand. When she heard a telltale rustle in the trees between her house and the cottage that Tim Eckels was renting, she knew that she’d soon be hearing from the strange man, and sighed. She was definitely not in the mood for cryptic pronouncements and bitter judgments because she hadn’t hired him at the shop.