The Lime and the Dead: A Key West Culinary Cozy - Book 3

by Summer Prescott

  The producer visibly relaxed. “Absolutely, take your time. Here’s my card,” she said, handing her a glittery piece of card stock. “Call me when you can. If I haven’t heard back from you by tomorrow, I’ll stop in again.”

  The young woman behind the counter bit her lip, lost in thought. “Have you told the police that you don’t think Mom or I had anything to do with Bella’s murder?”

  “A long time ago,” Sabra nodded, with a reassuring smile. “Call soon, okay?”

  “Yeah,” Tiara agreed quietly. The door closed behind the producer, and she stood, staring blankly at the counter top.

  “That woman has a lot of nerve, asking you to help her out,” Marilyn remarked from behind her.

  “Agreed,” her daughter murmured. “But sometimes the easiest way to get inside info is by being on the inside.”

  Chapter 12

  “That really cute detective came by while we were filming on the yacht today,” Tiara mentioned casually as she helped her mother and Kelcie put the finishing touches on a batch of Key Lime mini-tarts that had been selling by the dozen. The bite-sized goodies had been an instant hit, and a dozen of them sold for far more than a single pie, while using less filling, so it was a financial win for the shop. Kelcie had suggested it when they’d had too little product left over to make an entire pie, and after seeing their huge popularity, Marilyn had made them a permanent addition to the menu.

  “What did he want?” her mother asked, looking up from the cream that she’d been whipping.

  “A hair sample,” was the reply, as Tiara deftly sliced a strawberry, turning it into a flower.

  Marilyn put down the mixer she’d been using.

  “A hair sample? Why?” her eyes narrowed.

  “I don’t know, he just asked if I would give his technician a sample, so I did,” her daughter shrugged.

  “This is utterly ridiculous,” Marilyn muttered, peeling off her plastic gloves, untying her apron and flinging it in the general direction of the “to be washed” basket. “You two have the store today,” she commanded, stalking toward her office. “I have things to do.”

  Technology had never been the pie shop owner’s best friend, she considered it a necessary evil to be used only in the event of an emergency, and unfortunately, the detective’s scrutiny of her daughter fell into that category. Tiara did all of the accounting and computer work for the shop, but Marilyn at least knew how to do a basic internet search, and she sat down at her desk, determined to get some answers.

  She first searched “Tim Eckels” and came up with a few thousand choices, so she then searched, “Tim Eckels mortician” to narrow down the results. Apparently, her eccentric neighbor had moved to the Keys from a small town in Minnesota, after having been the subject of a horrifying scandal. One of the bodies that he’d been responsible for preparing for burial had started scrabbling around on the inside of the coffin during the memorial service, terrifying all attenders and calling into question the preparation technique used. Quite obviously, the body had never been embalmed, despite the fact that the family had paid for embalming, and the threat of a financially devastating lawsuit prompted Eckels’ early retirement and subsequent flight to Florida.

  Looking back further, Marilyn dug up accusations against her neighbor for stalking, trespassing, malicious mischief, animal cruelty and fraudulent practices. Mysteriously, all charges that had even been filed against the enigmatic embalmer were dropped, with no further action taken. She couldn’t afford to let him walk on this one, however, her daughter’s freedom might very well be at stake. She had to wonder whether or not he’d intimidated the people who had filed charges against him the way that he’d been trying to intimidate her. Looking in the small town police reports to see if acts of vandalism had been reported by those bringing charges against Tim Eckels, she found that, in almost every case, there had been. Grabbing her purse and keys after she printed out the info that she had found, she headed for the police station, determined to have a word with Detective Bernard Cortland.

  **

  “So, did you hear any good gossip yesterday?” Kelcie asked Tiara in a low voice after Marilyn stormed from the kitchen.

  “Oh my, there’s always good gossip when I’m around those people. If I had that much drama in my life on a daily basis, I’d lose my mind,” she shook her head, artfully placing a strawberry atop a tart.

  “Well, spill it!” Kelcie exclaimed. “Not all of us are lucky enough to have behind the scenes info on one of the most popular reality shows on TV.”

  “Okay, but I kind of hate talking about it, because it makes me sad,” Tiara made a face. Her co-worker wisely said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

  “Remember the driver, Tucker, that followed Amber everywhere she went and carried her packages and all of that?” she asked, putting a finished tray of tarts in the fridge and laying out the pastry dough to cut into squares.

  “Yeah,” Kelcie nodded, handing her a pastry wheel and trying not to sound too eager.

  “Well, he just walked away and never came back, but you’ll never guess why,” she paused her eyes wide.

  “Why?”

  “He thought that if he hung around long enough and did a good enough job, that Amber would sleep with him,” Tiara confided in a low, shocked voice.

  Kelcie put down her filling tube, her mouth hanging open. “But he knows that she has a boyfriend, that’s the whole point of the show!”

  “I know, I was surprised too, but then I had to wonder if maybe the producer had told him that Amber liked him or something so that it would create conflict.”

  “Did you ask her about it?”

  “Yep, of course I did. If Sabra was doing underhanded things like that, I wanted to have no part of the show, but as it turns out, she had footage of Amber flirting with Tucker. The way that it looked to me, the poor guy had darn good reason to believe that she might sleep with him. Amber always complains about the way that her boyfriend treats her, but after seeing how she acted with her chauffeur, I can kind of understand why he might be trying to push her away,” Tiara shrugged.

  “How stupid can she be?” Kelcie mused.

  “Huh?”

  “Why in the world would Amber jeopardize what she has going with her yacht guy by having an affair with the chauffeur? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “That’s what I thought at first too, but after hanging out with Amber for a while, I realized that she’s very insecure, and very demanding. I think what she liked about Tucker is that he worshipped the ground she walked on and did whatever she told him to do. The yacht guy is much more confident and refused to let her treat him that way,” she explained.

  Kelcie nodded. “So she wanted to have her cake and eat it too,” she said, popping a tart into her mouth.

  “Exactly,” Tiara agreed.

  “She should’ve stuck with pie,” she winked, mouth full.

  Chapter 13

  Marilyn left the police department, after speaking with Bernard Cortland, more frustrated than ever. After all of the history that she’d given him regarding Tim Eckels, he had simply assured her that he had access to all of the information that she wanted to provide and had checked out the former mortician thoroughly. When she demanded to know why he had requested a hair sample from her daughter, Bernard had simply held his ground and informed her that he was not at liberty to comment on an ongoing investigation. The only comfort she could take from the meeting was that when she had asked him if Tiara was a suspect, he had replied that there were no suspects as yet, only “persons of interest.” He refused to indicate whether or not Tiara was a “person of interest,” because she’s legally an adult, and her legal status was technically none of her mother’s business.

  Sitting in the car in the parking lot of the police station, head against the steering wheel, Marilyn tried to decide what her next move should be. Glancing at her watch, she sighed, realizing that it was time to head over to the shop so that Tiara could go work on the sho
w, while she and Kelcie dealt with the customers that trickled in during the afternoon. Their busiest time was in the morning, so it shouldn’t be any problem to let her go for the day, but her mother was chomping at the bit to find more info about Tim Eckels, so that the detective would finally understand that he had to be the one who killed Bella Fontaine. He discovered the body for crying out loud! How could it be more obvious? Grimacing in frustration, she started the car and headed for SubLime Sweets, where she could at least lose herself in creativity and baking for a little while.

  “Kelcie, are you here alone?” Marilyn asked when she came in the front door.

  “Yes, ma’am, but it’s been slow, so I’ve been fine,” she nodded, busily filling up napkin holders on the tables in the eating area. There were no customers at the moment, but Marilyn found it more than odd that her daughter had left without letting her know.

  “Where is Tiara?” she asked, a feeling of slow dread creeping up her spine.

  “I’m not sure. She said she had to go do something, and left really quickly,” the lovely, mocha-skinned girl replied, moving behind the counter and picking up a bottle of sanitizer and a cleaning cloth. She sprayed the sanitizer on the counter by the cash register, and glanced idly up at the television that was perpetually tuned to the news during business hours, freezing in place.

  “Ms. Hayes…” she said numbly, unable to tear her eyes away from the screen. “I know where she is,” she raised the hand still holding the cleaning cloth and pointed at the television. Marilyn looked up and gasped, hands going to her throat.

  **

  Tiara thought that her heart might beat right out of her chest, she was so terrified. Sabra had called her to the set early, saying there was some sort of emergency and that she needed her help. Since the early morning rush had slowed to a trickle at the store just after lunch, she left Kelcie to handle things, knowing that her mother would be in soon anyway. She’d been instructed to meet the crew at one of Key West’s premier hotels, and was glad that they validated parking when she saw the garage rates.

  Wandering into the lobby, looking for Sabra, Amber and crew, she found one of the gaffers and asked where she should go. The man’s eyes were wild, and he directed her to Sabra’s room on the top floor. In the elevator, Tiara couldn’t help but wonder what drama was taking place now. She was getting more than a little tired of the constant conflict and emotional upheaval of the show, but the money was good, so she would try to put up with it for as long as she could. Since returning to the show, the death threats and ugly calls had stopped, but she’d had to get a new cell number because her fans would call at all hours of the day and night.

  The elevator doors opened and Tiara stepped into a whirl of chaos. Everyone working with the show seemed to be freaking out for some reason, and she thought that she heard sirens in the distance. Pushing her way through a crowd of people who were gathered outside Sabra’s open door, she made her way into the room.

  “Tiara! Oh thank goodness you’re here,” the producer grabbed her by the arm. “Amber is losing her mind. She’s climbed out onto the roof and is threatening to jump if anyone comes near her. The police and fire department are on their way, but we have to try to stall her until they get here, can you talk to her?” she pleaded, shaking.

  “It’s only four stories, what’s the big deal?” Tiara was befuddled.

  “Four stories is more than tall enough if you’re determined to die,” Sabra replied, her voice hollow.

  “I’ll talk to her.”

  Tiara put first one leg, then the other over the window ledge closest to where Amber sat, hugging her knees to her chest, on a narrow sandstone ledge, overlooking a private cobblestoned courtyard. Four stories did seem a long way down, once the comfort and security of an enclosed space had been left behind, and she clung to the window ledge on which she perched, as though her life depended on it.

  “Hey girl,” she croaked, fear tightening her throat. Clearing it, she tried again. “What’s wrong, Amber?” she called softly.

  The typically well-kept blonde faced her and was so distraught that she was barely recognizable. Her bleached hair had been hastily thrown into a ponytail and had tendrils springing wildly in every direction. There were black streaks of mascara under her eyes and down her cheeks, and she was pale as a ghost under her carefully tended tan.

  “Everything,” she whispered, her chin trembling.

  “Did something happen,” Tiara tried to draw her out.

  “Jason broke up with me,” her breath hitched and fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “That means I’m off the show, I have no boyfriend…everything is going wrong,” she sobbed, her shoulders shaking.

  Tiara looked at the uncontrolled movements of Amber’s body, and the uncompromising solidity of the cobblestone’s below, and her heart skipped a beat.

  “Hey,” she soothed. “It’s going to be okay. Can I come out there and sit next to you?” Sitting on the ledge of a building four stories above the ground was the last thing that she wanted to do, but she figured that it was her best shot at getting Amber to agree to come back inside safely.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Sabra hissed in her ear. “There is no way I’m going to let you go out there. I’m afraid of losing one of my girls, I refuse to risk two,” she had an iron grip on Tiara’s arm.

  “You don’t have a choice. She’s not stable out there, but I will be. I’m her only shot at feeling loved and coming to her senses, now let me go,” she ordered in a low voice.

  “You really think you can pull this off?” the producer’s eyes filled with tears.

  “I don’t have a choice,” Tiara replied, gritting her teeth and dropping her feet down to the ledge. From her seat at the window, she had seen the TV crews and media vans gathering below, but she refused to look down once she had ventured out onto the ledge.

  “Just go back,” Amber cried when she saw Tiara heading her way. “I’m not worth it.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, of course you’re worth it. We’re friends, this is how friends work. When you need me, I’m here,” she replied, managing to sound calm, despite the adrenalin racing through her veins. Her back scraped against the stuccoed exterior of the building, and her fingertips burned with the effort of clinging to a two-inch-thick molding just above her head, as she inched toward Amber. One slip of the foot and she’d either be dead, or so badly injured that she might wish she were dead. Sweat beaded on her forehead, belying her composed air, and she finally got within a foot of the crying young woman on the ledge. Thankful for her yoga practice and the balance that she’d gained from it, she lowered herself down to a sitting position while keeping her back firmly against the wall of the building. She sat for a moment, catching her breath before attempting to speak.

  “Nothing is ever as bad as it seems,” Tiara said finally, when she was certain that her voice would be steady. She reached slowly over to squeeze Amber’s hand, grateful that she didn’t pull away and decide to plummet to her death.

  “Tiara…you okay?” Sabra stuck her head outside the window and whispered. Tiara made a circle with her thumb and forefinger, flashing her the “okay” sign, while still focusing on the suicidal girl at her side.

  “Oh, you have no idea just how bad it is,” Amber shook her head, her hands clutching her knees so tightly that her knuckles were white.

  “I know that you loved Jason, but there’ll be other guys, better guys,” she reassured the reality star.

  “No. There won’t. Not ever,” Amber responded fatalistically.

  “Don’t be silly,” Tiara admonished her. “What makes you even say something like that? You know that you’re young and beautiful and famous…you have your whole life ahead of you.”

  The miserable young woman shook her head. “No I don’t, because…he knows,” she whispered.

  A chill ran up Tiara’s spine.

  “Who knows what?” she asked quietly, dropping the soothing tone that she’d been employing.

&nb
sp; “The hot detective knows that I killed Bella,” she confessed, tears flowing anew.

  “What?” Tiara exclaimed. Was she actually sitting on a ledge high above the courtyard with a self-confessed murderer? Her stomach churned.

  “Well, I mean, I didn’t personally kill her, but I made Tucker do it. I didn’t watch, I couldn’t, but he came to me when it was over, and we dumped her body by your mom’s house so that everyone would suspect you. I’m really sorry we did that,” she turned her tearstained face to a shocked Tiara. “I didn’t know you very well back then. We weren’t friends yet,” she shrugged, despondent.

  Tiara felt that her very life depended upon how she responded to Amber’s admission. The girl had nothing to lose at this point, and could easily decide to take her only friend with her in her final leap, so despite her instant loathing, she had to call on every acting skill in her arsenal to make Amber continue to believe that she was on her side.

  “How do you know that the detective suspects you?” she asked carefully, using every bit of willpower within her to stay put and not scoot away from the unbalanced woman on the ledge. She looked over at the window that she had come out of, gauging the distance. There was no way that she could make a sudden move and catch the side of it, it was too far away.

  “He took a sample of my hair, because they found hairs on Bella’s clothing, which really isn’t a big deal, we hang out together all the time, so my hairs being found on her could be explained, but then, they measured my shoe and took the pair that I’d been wearing the day that she was killed, into evidence. As soon as they match my shoes to the prints that were probably in the mud under the trees where we stashed her, I’m done for. I’d rather die than go to jail, it would be horrible for me in there,” she reasoned, likely correct.

  “But you said you didn’t kill her. Tucker killed her, right?” Tiara clarified, swallowing her nausea.

  “Yeah, but I made him do it,” Amber sighed. “I told him that I’d sleep with him if he did it for me.”