Murder By Lime: A Key West Culinary Cozy - Book 4

by Summer Prescott

  When Marilyn called to tell Bernard about her strange experience with her odd neighbor, the detective asked if she’d heard from Carlos Mechago.

  “No, I haven’t, why?” she asked.

  “He’s not answering his phone. I left messages, stopped by his warehouse, and dropped by his residence. No one seems to know where he is, and several of his clients have reported thefts yesterday and today,” the detective explained. “If you hear from him, would you please let him know that I’d like to speak with him?”

  “Of course,” Marilyn promised. “Are you going to talk to Tim Eckels?”

  “I’ll pay him a visit today,” Bernard replied, sounding tired.

  “Thanks, I appreciate it,” she said, hanging up.

  Marilyn was baffled. She felt very strongly that Carlos had nothing to do with the theft or the murder of Pedro. The man may play hardball when it came to negotiating, but he’d always been honest and above-board with her. Tiara was convinced that Drew had nothing to do with Pedro’s death, and her mother was more than inclined to agree, despite her reservations about the older man dating her daughter. She’d also had the distinct impression that Bernard didn’t seem at all convinced that Tim Eckels was worth investigating.

  When she thought about it, the theft of her limes and the death of Pedro were most likely not related at all, and trying to tie the two together may cause them all to miss something important. She resolved to follow her own advice and let the police handle the murder – as long as Tiara wasn’t suspected of anything, there was no reason for Marilyn to concern herself with it – and she’d continue to brainstorm about who might have stolen her limes.

  She gazed down at the pie that Tim Eckels had left on her counter, wondering if he had done anything sinister to it. She picked it up and sniffed it – it smelled delicious. Figuring that she was probably safe, she cut herself a piece and dug her fork into the tart, creamy treat. The pie was delightful, almost as good as hers, and she silently applauded him for the slight touch of zest that he had sprinkled over the top. If it was poisoned, at least she’d die with a smile on her face.

  Chapter 7

  Marilyn headed home after a long day at the shop, excited that they’d been busy, but exhausted after having to jump through culinary hoops to come up with enough product, based upon their dwindling lime supply, to meet the needs of lime-hungry customers. When she reached the end of her driveway, she heard a grunting sound, and looked over into Tim’s yard, seeing him using a shovel in an area obscured by low-hanging tree limbs between his house and the tree line that separated her yard from his. Suspicious, she decided to take a closer look.

  “Hi neighbor,” she called out, clearly startling the man. He had sweat completely through his shapeless grey polo shirt, and had streaks of dirt covering him from head to toe, his hair wild and glasses askew. When she got closer, she saw that he moved in front of what had clearly been a large hole, into which he had been shoveling dirt from a nearby pile. “Busy day?” she asked, faking a smile.

  “I don’t have a job baking for you, so I have plenty of time to work in my yard,” he replied tonelessly.

  Marilyn chose to overlook his observation, trying to see what he’d been working on, without being obvious about it. “You were right, the pie was delicious,” she complimented him, actually meaning it. She would wait until tomorrow to see if there were any side effects from having consumed it, and once she had verified that it was safe, she’d have another bite and offer a slice to her stressed-out daughter. She was supposed to come over for their weekly pizza and movie night, but Marilyn knew that she had an afternoon date with Drew, so who knew when, or if, she’d actually show up.

  “I told you it was. My grandmother was the best,” Tim replied, leaning on his shovel and seeming slightly out of breath.

  “Well, don’t work too hard,” she flashed another fake smile and turned to go.

  “I would have if you had hired me,” the bitter man muttered as she walked away.

  Marilyn was really creeped out by the fact that her strange neighbor was filling a very large hole next to his house, and went directly to her kitchen to peer out from between the slats of her plantation blinds to see if she could get a better view of his activities. As though he felt her gaze, Tim Eckels slowly raised his head and stared directly at the window. Ducking down, despite being almost certain that she couldn’t be seen from her vantage point, she took advantage of the opportunity to stroke Fluffy, Tiara’s rescue cat, between the ears, making the cuddly creature purr with delight. Following Detective Cortland’s instructions, she went through the entire house, after playing with the cat for a bit, making sure that every door and window was securely locked. She wasn’t typically a paranoid person, but under the circumstances, it certainly seemed prudent to be careful.

  The weary pie shop owner had just changed into her favorite kitten-grey yoga pants and a floppy orange t-shirt and curled up on the couch with a most-appreciative Fluffy, when she and the cat were startled by a noise at the front door. Marilyn sat up, listening, and Fluffy followed her gaze, staring at the front door, ears twitching. Jumping like she’d been shot at the sudden sound of pounding, Marilyn breathed a deep sigh of relief when she heard Tiara shouting to be let in.

  “Sorry, honey, I didn’t realize that you wouldn’t have your key on you,” she apologized, letting her daughter, who seemed to be in quite the foul mood, in, and locking the deadbolt behind her.

  “I had my key, I just didn’t have the one for the deadbolt,” she sighed irritably.

  “Are you okay?” Marilyn asked, peering at her daughter. The typically perfectly groomed young woman had hair that hung in lank, damp strips over her shoulders, her eyeliner and mascara were smeared, and there was a frown line between her eyebrows.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I just had a disappointing date with Drew, that’s all,” she said, tossing her purse on the floor and flopping onto the couch after scooping up Fluffy and crushing the ecstatic animal to her chest.

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” her mother replied, secretly relieved. “What happened?”

  “We went to a diving spot that Drew said he particularly likes, and I wanted to explore some of the reefs, but he kept going back to the same spot, looking for some particular shark that hangs out there. I saw some cool stuff, but because he was the one with the camera, I didn’t get any pictures,” she complained.

  “Well, you can understand how he’d be a bit distracted right now,” Marilyn reminded her.

  “Yeah, I know. It’s just that, I hadn’t been diving in quite a while and I wanted it to be like, a ‘together’ thing, you know? This was more like every man for himself,” she took her shoes off and curled into the corner of the couch, enveloping a supremely happy Fluffy.

  “Would you like to drown your sorrows in pizza and a chick flick?” her mother asked with a grin.

  “That’s why I’m here,” Tiara buried her face in Fluffy’s fur. “And I’ll probably snag a piece of the psycho’s pie too,” she mumbled against the cat.

  “Speaking of which…” Marilyn told her about what she had observed Tim doing when she came home.

  “So what do you think he was up to?” her daughter asked, while ordering a pizza online. “I’m getting some wings and a bottle of soda too,” she informed her mother.

  “Wow, that bad, huh?” Marilyn teased. “Honestly, I had to wonder if he was burying a body,” her tone grew serious.

  “Mom, you’re being paranoid. No one buries a body in their own yard, it’d be a dead giveaway,” she deadpanned.

  “Bahahaha, nice pun,” her mother acknowledged with a groan. “But I still think there’s something fishy going on.”

  “Maybe so, but weird doesn’t automatically mean criminal. Okay, the pizza is ordered, now let’s check out the movie selection,” Tiara suggested, grabbing the remote after closing the pizza app on her phone.

  Chapter 8

  “Carlos, what a nice surprise,” Marilyn exclaimed when the
supplier walked into her shop early one morning.

  “I have good news for you,” he beamed. “My truck is behind the building, and I have a full shipment for you today,” he announced proudly.

  “A full shipment? How did you manage that?” she asked, aware that Tiara was hovering in between the kitchen and the front counter, listening.

  “I’ve been gone for a few days, visiting with some contacts in Mexico, and I’ve been able to open up some more direct supply lines for my limes,” he explained. “So, not only will I be able to keep you supplied, but it’ll be cheaper than I originally thought. Before you know it, we’ll be back down to pre-crisis rates.”

  “Hmpf…sounds familiar,” was Tiara’s snide remark from behind her mother. Marilyn turned around and arched a warning eyebrow.

  “I believe you have some cupcakes to frost,” she said pointedly, dismissing her daughter, who glared at her and flounced back to the kitchen.

  “Detective Cortland would like to speak with you now that you’re back in town,” Marilyn said casually.

  “Oh, I know, senora, we’ve already had a long chat,” he cast a knowing eye at Tiara’s retreating back.

  “Kids,” she shrugged, wondering what had come of his talk with the detective.

  “Meet me out back for delivery?” he asked, refraining from commenting.

  “Will do,” she nodded, then a thought occurred to her. “Hey, Carlos, do you smoke?”

  “A good cigar every now and again, why?” his eyes narrowed.

  “I was just curious,” she said lamely. “Didn’t mean to offend.”

  “I just can’t help but wonder why it is that you and the detective asked me that very same question,” he said quietly. “I’ll meet you at the truck.”

  **

  “Don’t you find it interesting that Carlos disappears for a few days, several of his customers are mysteriously robbed, and then he comes back with enough limes for everyone?” Tiara demanded, tapping her foot.

  “Honey, he was gone for a few days because he went to Mexico to find new importers,” Marilyn said, wondering why her daughter was so adamant that Carlos was to blame for the theft.

  “I don’t know why you’re making excuses for him, but you’re perfectly willing to believe that Drew was somehow involved in Pedro’s death,” she accused, looking hurt.

  “I’m not making excuses for him, and I don’t believe that Drew was involved in the murder any more than you do,” her mother responded. “I am, however, getting more than a little bit frustrated that you’re biting my head off every time I try to talk with you about this,” she challenged her daughter with a look.

  Tiara sighed. “I’m sorry, I know I’ve been a grump, it’s just that everything seems to be going wrong all at once and I’m sick of it,” she complained.

  “Well, honey, that’s just a part of life. Things happen and sometimes you just have to roll with the punches,” Marilyn looked at her sympathetically. “How about a piece of pie?” she offered, knowing her daughter’s weakness.

  The depressed young woman smiled wryly. “Might as well,” she sighed.

  “Wow…this is almost as good as yours,” Tiara said, shocked.

  “I know, I was surprised too,” her mother nodded, mouth full of pie. “I still don’t trust that creepy man though,” she frowned and took another bite.

  “He’s just weird and harmless, Mom, get over it.”

  “I don’t think so. I think he could be dangerous,” Marilyn insisted. “I just have to find some way to prove it.”

  “You always tell me to stay out of stuff and let the police handle it,” her daughter reminded her, continuing to wolf down her slice of pie.

  “Well, yes, but…this is my neighbor for crying out loud. I have the right to keep an eye on him to determine whether or not I’m safe living next to him. Want another slice?” she asked, noting the empty plate in front of Tiara.

  “Yep, I’m feeling better by the second,” she actually smiled, the psychological lift of the sugar high taking hold.

  “Well good, in that case, I’ll have another slice too.”

  Chapter 9

  “Kelcie, sweetie…don’t bother to come in today,” Marilyn groaned. “Tiara and I are…under the weather and won’t be able to make it in, so we’re just going to be closed for the day.”

  She tapped end on her phone and pulled the covers up under her chin feeling weak and drained. Apparently Tim Eckels had put some sort of laxative in the pie that he had given her. The one piece that she’d had the day before yesterday hadn’t done anything to her, but today, after she and Tiara had both eaten two slices last night, they ended up racing for the bathrooms multiple times. Marilyn had gone upstairs to her room to recover with a glass of water and a box of nasty-tasting pink tablets, and her pale and shaky daughter had chosen to camp out, with Fluffy at her side, in the guest room, due to its proximity to the downstairs bathroom.

  Marilyn planned to call Detective Cortland as soon as she felt better, to report what had happened, and felt foolish that she’d trusted the suspicious character enough to have even tried the pie. What if what he used wasn’t a laxative? What if it was poison? The thought made her stomach churn even more, and she moaned, rolling over into the fetal position, hoping that she could just go to sleep and wake up feeling better. She texted Tiara to make sure that she was okay, and when she heard back from her, she set her phone on the bed beside her and dropped into an exhausted sleep.

  It was well past noon when Marilyn finally had enough strength to wander downstairs to make some weak tea. She was surprised to find that Tiara was already sitting in the kitchen, slowly munching on a piece of toast, but glad that she was doing better.

  “How ya feeling, kiddo?” she asked, kissing the top of her daughter’s head on her way to fill the teakettle.

  “Better I guess,” she shrugged, peeling a piece of crust from her toast and popping it into her mouth.

  “What’s wrong?” Marilyn sat next to her at the breakfast bar once she’d put the kettle on to boil.

  “Drew isn’t going to come see me today,” she complained weakly.

  “Do you want him to see you like this?” she teased, with a wan smile.

  “Very funny, Mom. He had planned on it, but his car is in the shop.”

  “Poor guy, never rains but it pours, huh?” Marilyn shook her head in sympathy.

  “So it seems,” Tiara sighed, dropping the remnants of her toast on the saucer in front of her.

  “Join me for some tea?”

  “Nah, I’m going back to bed,” she slid down from her barstool, picked up Fluffy, and shuffled toward the guest room as her mother watched with concern.

  At least she wouldn’t have to pretend to be nice to Drew, all the while heartily disapproving of his relationship with her daughter. Marilyn had been hoping that Tiara’s school-girl crush on her yoga instructor would ebb with time, that she’d find that they really didn’t have much in common, but apparently that wasn’t going to happen. She would never interfere, her daughter was an adult who was capable of making her own choices, but that didn’t mean that she had to feel good about them.

  The teakettle whistled, and while her tea steeped, Marilyn got out the Ipad that Tiara had bought for her months ago. Since she had to take it easy today, she might as well use her time productively, by trying to figure out who had robbed her. She had already done enough internet searching to know that her creepy neighbor had a sketchy enough past to be considered a viable suspect, now she was going to search for a bit of background on Carlos Mechago.

  She was surprised when quite a few hits came up after she typed his name into the search bar. She couldn’t be certain that it was the same person, of course, but there was a Carlos Mechago whose family was very well connected in Mexico, which would explain the ease with which he secured new importers. This Carlos also had a bit of a past, and as Marilyn dug deeper, the sense of dread that had been building in her gut grew stronger. The Carlos Mechag
o that she was researching, had been accused of several crimes in his native country – everything from trespassing, to grand theft, to interfering with an election process, and even attempted murder – and had the charges dropped every single time. If this was the same Carlos, he was more well-connected than she thought, and probably wouldn’t think twice about stealing and reselling his products.

  Marilyn sat, reading articles about the man whom she thought might be her lime supplier, and lost track of time, only jolted back into reality by an incessant pounding sound that made her head ache. Looking for the source of the sound, she glanced out of her kitchen window and saw the vague shape of Tim Eckels beside his house again, apparently digging another large hole. The pounding noise was him jumping on the back of the shovel blade to make it penetrate the ground and the tree roots below it. She was so confused. Both Carlos and Tim had the motive to steal her limes, and both had seedy enough pasts for the thievery to be feasible, so how on earth was she supposed to figure out who had done it? While she sat pondering, her phone buzzed and she picked it up, seeing Bernard Cortland’s number come up.

  “Hi, Bernard. I was planning to call you later,” she answered the phone, leaning her head wearily on her hand.

  “Hello, Marilyn. Is your daughter with you right now?” the detective asked without preamble.

  “Yes, she’s in the guest room because she doesn’t feel well, why?” she asked, perplexed at his abrupt manner.

  “I have a warrant for her arrest, I’ll see you shortly,” he informed her, and the line went dead.

  “Wait…wha…?” Marilyn was astounded. There was absolutely no possible reason for an arrest warrant to be issued for her intelligent, educated, hard-working daughter. She sat stunned for a moment, then went to the guest room to break the news.

  “There must be some mistake,” she protested, when Bernard came to arrest Tiara. “My daughter is a good girl who’s never been in trouble in her life,” she insisted, receiving nothing but a stone-faced silence from the detective. “She’s sick, you can’t put her in jail when she’s sick,” she grasped at straws.