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

by Summer Prescott

  “Mom,” Tiara spoke up quietly. “We know this has to be a mistake. I’ll just go with Detective Cortland, and I’m sure everything will get straightened out. Stop freaking out, and just wait here until I call you, it’s the only thing that you can do,” she said calmly, knowing that she was innocent, and being naïve enough to believe that it would make a difference.

  “What are you even accusing her of?” Marilyn demanded, ready to combat whatever charge he mentioned.

  “Tiara, you are accused of possession of cocaine, and will be held additionally under the suspicion of being an accessory to murder,” Bernard said quietly, and proceeded to read her her rights as he led her to the door.

  “Drugs? Murder? This is insanity!” Marilyn screamed as her only child was loaded into the back of Cortland’s unmarked police car

  Chapter 10

  “They said it was an anonymous tip,” Tiara mumbled glumly after Marilyn picked her up from the police station.

  “An anonymous tip? Well, isn’t that just convenient,” the worried mother fumed. “Someone set you up and we’re going to get to the bottom of this,” she vowed. “What did they find anyway?”

  “A small packet of cocaine and a piece of paper with Pedro’s phone number on it,” her defeated daughter said quietly.

  “Why did you have Pedro’s phone number?”

  “I didn’t,” the shattered young woman protested. “I’ve never called Pedro in my life. I don’t even know if he speaks English.”

  “Who do you know besides Drew that would have his number?” Marilyn wondered.

  “I’d bet my last dollar that it was Carlos. He was probably upset that Detective Cortland talked to him because of what I said, and chose to discredit me by doing this,” Tiara speculated bitterly.

  “Then I think I’ll just have to have a little conversation with Mr. Mechago,” her mother gritted her teeth.

  “No! Mom, don’t. We don’t know what he’s capable of. I’m in enough trouble already, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you,” a tear rolled down her cheek.

  “Well, honey, we have to think of something, and if the police are busy chasing after you and Drew when the real killer is right in front of our noses, we’ll have to do some checking around,” she insisted. “Did they arrest Drew too?”

  Tiara shook her head. “No, since they found Pedro’s number, along with drugs, in my apartment, I’m the one who’s under suspicion.”

  “That just makes me so angry,” Marilyn slapped the steering wheel with both hands. “Maybe since they’re leaving Drew alone, I’ll draft him to help me do some snooping around. Do you know when he gets his new boat?”

  “No, I haven’t heard much from him since this all happened, and I’m really not comfortable with you poking into things, Mom. You could get hurt.”

  “I cannot sit around and do nothing while my only daughter gets framed,” she replied stubbornly. “If the incompetent fools over at KWPD can’t get their act together, I’ll take matters into my own hands.”

  **

  Marilyn pulled on her yoga capris and a workout top that was snug enough to stay in place when she bent over or turned upside down for her poses. She hadn’t been to Yoga on the Beach for quite a while, but figured it would provide her with the perfect opening to speak with Drew and enlist his help in her sleuthing efforts. She tossed her oversized mat, water bottle and head band into her beach bag and snuck out of the house, being careful not to wake Tiara, who was sleeping in the guest room. She had wanted to go back to her apartment, but Marilyn had insisted that she stay in the guest room until the ridiculous charges against her had either been disproven or dropped.

  Locking the door securely behind her, she saw Tim Eckels, her worrisome neighbor, dashing from the end of her driveway toward his cottage.

  “Hey neighbor!” she called out, determined to see what he was up to. Tim halted in his tracks and stood stock still, as though wondering what his next move should be. Marilyn went to the end of her driveway and put her hands on her hips. “What brings you out at this hour?” she said conversationally, from about twenty feet away.

  The sweat-soaked man turned slowly to face her. “I’m…I was…I jog,” he said, not quite meeting her gaze.

  “You jog in jeans and a polo? That’s rather unorthodox,” she observed, hoping to push him into saying something significant.

  “It’s so I don’t chafe. Not everyone has a fit figure like you,” he glared, his comment making Marilyn’s skin crawl.

  “Well, it’s great that you’re out here trying,” she said awkwardly. “Have a nice day,” she waved, turning and walking rapidly away. Tim muttered something behind her back that was unintelligible and she pretended that she hadn’t heard.

  **

  Thankful for the headband that kept the sweat from trickling into her eyes, Marilyn remembered why it had been so long since she’d been to Yoga on the Beach. Her joints crackled and popped with every movement, her muscles refused to elongate into proper stretches the way that they used to, and she was about to drown in the early morning humidity. Her clothing clung to her in a way that had to be most unbecoming, and the ends of her ponytail stuck stubbornly to the back of her neck, but she was determined to make it through the class so that she could talk to Drew afterwards. He’d been avoiding her eyes for the most part, and despite her hellishly improper form, he’d only been by to give her correction once, and moved away immediately after she’d adjusted her pose.

  When she finally said “Namaste,” signaling the end of her morning torture, Marilyn made a beeline for Drew, who, as usual was surrounded by a bevy of groupies. She waited patiently, hovering on the outside of the group, until at last, she was the only one left. Following the fit and boyishly handsome yogi while he shook out his mat and rolled it up, she thought she might have to do a handstand on his feet to get his attention.

  “Drew, I need to speak with you,” she said finally, when he’d made it clear that he was going to avoid interacting with her if at all possible.

  “I’m really kind of busy…” the instructor hedged, glancing at his waterproof diving watch.

  “I’m sure you are, but I would also like think that you’d have an interest in helping me clear my daughter’s name,” Marilyn gave him a look.

  “I’m sorry, there’s nothing that I can do,” he shrugged. I don’t know what Tiara got herself mixed up into, but that Carlos Mechago is one scary dude and I don’t want anything to do with any of this,” the professional beach bum shook his head.

  “I’ll just remind you that Tiara wouldn’t be “mixed up” in any of this if it hadn’t been for her association with you, so you might want to be a bit more generous with your time and information,” Marilyn ordered, hands on hips, eyes steely.

  “Look, I don’t know anything, okay? All I know is that you don’t mess with Mechago, and your daughter just wouldn’t let it go. She pointed the cops in his direction and now he’s out for revenge. I hope she’s somewhere safe right now. If I were you, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight,” Drew advised, continuing to load his duffel bag.

  “And yet you’ve let her out of yours,” Marilyn accused, remarking on his absence of late.

  “In case you hadn’t heard, I have enough of my own problems to deal with. Tiara’s young, I think she reads more into things than she should sometimes,” he remarked.

  “Unbelievable,” Marilyn shook her head, wanting to address his callous treatment of her daughter’s feelings, but having bigger fish to fry at the moment. “One last thing…do you think Carlos killed Pedro?” she asked, trying hard to keep her tone civil.

  Drew stood, itching to get out of there, and finally looked Marilyn directly in the eye. “I think he’s the only one with the means and the motive,” he replied. “And I think that it was really a bogus move that he trashed my boat to do it.”

  “My daughter’s life and future might be at risk, and you’re worried about your boat,” Marilyn was as
tounded. “You are a piece of work.”

  Chapter 11

  Marilyn sat in her car, across the street from Carlos Mechago’s warehouse, sipping her coffee from a ceramic travel mug with a Key Lime pie logo on it. She’d crept out of her house before the sun came up, in hopes of catching a glimpse of some sort of suspicious activity at the warehouse. Even if she saw nothing, she was fully prepared to confront Carlos about setting up her innocent daughter. What’s the worst that he could do to her, here on a public street?

  As the sun peeked over the horizon, first one truck arrived, then another. Workers who must’ve parked on the side of the building that Marilyn couldn’t see opened the large overhead bay doors and began unloading boxes. Everything looked completely legitimate, and she began to wonder why she had even come here to watch in the first place. The car engine was off, and Marilyn leaned her head on her hand, her bare arm resting on top of the rolled down window.

  “Lovely morning, isn’t it?” the voice of Carlos Mechago at her elbow startled her out of her boredom, making her heart race.

  “Actually, no. I haven’t had a lovely morning since my daughter was arrested,” she snapped, getting out of the car and slamming the door shut with more force than was necessary.

  “I hadn’t heard,” he managed to look authentically surprised. “What happened?”

  “As if you didn’t know,” Marilyn snarled, fed up at being trifled with. She was obviously the only advocate for Tiara – Drew didn’t seem to care at all, and Bernard had made the arrest – so she was left to make things right on her own. “Why can’t you just leave that poor innocent girl alone?” she stepped up to the supplier, hands on hips.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replied in a low voice, frowning. “If your daughter is in trouble, it’s because of the company that she keeps, senora. I can assure you of that,” he met her glare dead on, not budging an inch.

  Marilyn was thrown off by his direct manner. “What are you talking about?” her eyes narrowed.

  “Why do you suppose that the beach boy’s boat was sunk in the marina?” he asked, looking at her as though she were clueless.

  “I have no idea,” she shrugged, not getting what he was trying to say. “Maybe there was a leak and it just sank,” she offered lamely.

  “With a dead body on it?” Carlos raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “Well, obviously, whoever did it wanted the police to think that Drew was guilty,” Marilyn replied, tired of the game.

  “Or…maybe the lazy, drug-dealing yoga teacher actually did it,” he spelled it out finally.

  “Drug dealing? Drew? You must be mistaken,” she shook her head.

  “Oh really? How do you think he got your limes for you? Pedro shipped more drugs into the Keys using produce than any other dealer around, and the yoga man was one of his distributors,” Carlos shook his head in disgust.

  “But that’s impossible…I would’ve known,” she protested. “Tiara would never have been attracted to someone like that,” her denial grew, as did the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  “He’s the perfect front man. All the ladies love him, he’s healthy and fit, has a respectable job, on the surface, what’s not to like, right? Let me ask you this, senora, was your daughter arrested for something related to cocaine?”

  The color drained from Marilyn’s face and she nodded, eyes wide. It all made sense now. When Tiara had gone diving with Drew, she had complained that he kept going to the same spot over and over again – had it been a drug drop off point? The yoga instructor also had access to Pedro’s phone number and could’ve planted it in the apartment, along with the packet of cocaine.

  “Carlos, forgive me…I have to go do something,” she murmured, quickly getting into the car.

  Chapter 12

  Marilyn drove immediately to Tiara’s apartment, hoping that one of her roommates was home. Fortunately, one of the girls, whose name escaped her at the moment, opened the door when she rang the bell.

  “Wow, we’re pretty popular this morning,” the roommate yawned, opening the door and leading the way into the small apartment.

  “Really?” she asked, puzzled.

  “Yeah, some detective just came in to ask us about Tiara and stuff,” she said vaguely.

  “Well, that’s why I’m here too,” the anxious mother replied. “Did anyone come by to visit or anything the night before Tiara was arrested? She was spending the night at my house, so I know that she wasn’t here, but did anyone go in her room or drop by?” she asked.

  “Yeah, the guy that she was dating, the yoga instructor came by because she had left her beach bag at his house. He came in and put it in her room for her, then hung out with us for a little bit because we had just ordered pizza and he was hungry. It was weird though, when the pizza came, he didn’t even eat. Must be a health nut or something,” the girl smiled.

  “Must be,” Marilyn agreed, excited but not showing it. “Listen, I’ve gotta run, but thanks, you’ve been very helpful,” she said, heading to the door.

  “That’s what the cop said too,” the roommate yawned again, closing the door after her.

  Marilyn had just gotten into her car and turned over the engine when her cell phone rang. Seeing Bernard Cortland’s number, she picked up.

  “Can you meet me at your house in about ten minutes?” the detective requested.

  “I’ll be there,” she promised, hitting the accelerator and heading for home.

  She arrived at her front door in no time, relieved to see that Bernard was already there.

  “Mom, the charges against me have been dropped,” Tiara announced with a tearful smile when she answered the door.

  “That’s wonderful, honey,” she said, wrapping her daughter in a hug. “They never should have been filed in the first place,” she accused, her eyes shooting daggers at Bernard over Tiara’s shoulder.

  “So how did you finally figure out what I knew all along?” Marilyn demanded, sitting down across from the detective in her living room.

  “When the fingerprints on the baggie of cocaine didn’t match your daughter’s, I assumed that it had been planted. I talked with her roommates, and it was pretty easy to figure out who had planted it. As part of my earlier murder investigation, I had gotten a warrant to search the house and car of the yoga instructor, and I found the car in front of a local bar. The bar that the car was parked at, was the same bar on the matchbook cover that had been used to break into your back door when your limes were stolen. When I looked inside the vehicle, I found a repair bill for the car’s radiator, which would explain the antifreeze puddle that was outside your back door after the robbery. I ran the prints from the back door and cold storage, along with those from the cocaine baggie against prints from the yoga instructor and found that they all matched,” Bernard explained.

  “What about the murder?” Marilyn asked. “Did Drew do that too?” she was horrified at the thought that her daughter might have been dating a drug dealer and murderer.

  “It looks that way,” the detective nodded. “His phone records showed frequent communication with the victim, and we think that he may have been transporting drug shipments for him. I listened to the messages on his cell, and apparently there was a pickup that Drew didn’t make for whatever reason, and Pedro was upset that his drugs were somewhere in the ocean. Threats were exchanged, and the messages suddenly stopped. Pedro had been stabbed repeatedly, and a knife that matches the wounds was found inside the spare tire compartment of Drew’s car. The damage to the boat was shown to be deliberate, and we’re speculating that the yoga instructor did it himself in order to try to dispose of Pedro’s body without looking suspicious, because we’d think that no one would be stupid enough to leave evidence on their own property,” he shook his head.

  “If we could find the stash of drugs tying the victim to Drew, we could establish that the homicide was committed because of a drug deal, and we could end up getting him off the streets and into
a cell where he belongs for a very long time,” Bernard said gravely.

  “I know where they are,” Tiara whispered, her eyes brimming with tears.

  “The dive site!” Marilyn exclaimed, and her daughter nodded.

  They brought the detective up to speed on what had happened during her dive date with Drew, and Tiara let him know that if they took her out on a Coast Guard boat, she could pretty accurately point out the spot where they had dived that day.

  “Come with me, we’ll make that happen,” Bernard assured her.

  When the heavy-hearted young woman went to change, Marilyn spoke to him in a low voice.

  “She’s going to be fine now, right? The charges will be erased from her record?”

  “Of course,” he nodded. “She’s been nothing but honest and helpful to us, we’re going to make certain that she’s squared away.”

  “Have you captured Drew yet?” she asked.

  “I have officers on the way to his house as we speak.”

  Chapter 13

  Tiara stepped gingerly onto the Coast Guard boat, assisted by Detective Cortland. On board, she was guided to a seat behind the crew member who would be navigating them to the site, and a bright orange life-jacket was placed over her head. The plan was that she would give directions to the site, and would stay on board with the detective while the Coast Guard divers searched the area. It took about half an hour of travel before they were in sight of the spot where Drew had taken her diving, and, drawing closer, they spotted another boat already anchored there, with a diver who was scrambling up the ladder, pushing an awkward bundle of something up ahead of him. Even from a distance, Tiara recognized the yoga instructor in his wetsuit.

  “That’s him,” she yelled, above the sound of the engine.

  Drew had obviously seen the approaching Coast Guard vessel. He tore off his dive equipment, pulled up the anchor, and hit the throttle, his small craft surging forward. The Coast Guard boat closed in on him quickly, and a crew member used a bull horn to direct him to stop the boat and prepare to be boarded.