“Our mothers are sisters,” Libby added.
“Excuse me, but I’m going to get this little concert started,” David said. “Hope you stick around for the whole show, Detective.”
“Thanks, I plan on it.”
David held Libby’s eyes for a moment and then stepped up to the microphone just as the song ended. Pulling a note card out of his shorts pocket, he announced, “Let’s give a big hand to Jeremy Matthews. You can catch Jeremy here most Open Mic Nights during the summer. He’s heading back to Florida State soon, though, so be generous with your tips. Thanks, Jeremy.”
As the audience applauded and Jeremy waved to the crowd, Detective Seiler leaned towards Libby. “He’s pretty good.”
Uncomfortable with his closeness, Libby inched away and said, “He’s a good kid. He’s also been helping out in the café this summer.”
“Does he know Pilar?”
“He may have been working once or twice when she was here, but I’m not sure.” Libby saw Mimi had come outside to sit with her husband and children. “Excuse me, I have to check on things inside. Enjoy the show.”
• • •
Libby was inside the café making a smoothie when Jacob Mendelson joined her at the counter. When she saw him coming towards her in his slow but deliberate shuffle, she smiled. At almost ninety-years-old, he was intellectually sharp, but his gait was getting slower. He lived in the condo next to Julia, and he and Libby had had long conversations across the balcony railing on nights when their separate pasts kept sleep at bay. His past was etched in the numbers tattooed on his arm decades ago when he was just a boy, and hers with the still-healing bullet wound in her left side.
“I’m so glad you came tonight,” she said.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, plus Julia wanted an escort. Don’t mind going out with a younger woman.” He smiled and winked, his German accent faintly evident.
“May I get you something?”
“No, just needed to get up and move around. It’s loud down front.”
“I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll put you in the back.”
“Julia told me about your friend and what you found at her house. Are you all right? I do worry about you. You’ve come such a long way since those first months you were here.”
“That’s so sweet of you, but don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
“Good.” He paused as she loaded up a tray. “David told me that young man in the back is a policeman.”
“Yes, he wanted to talk to David, and also, most of the people in town who know Pilar are here tonight.”
“Kind of like in that movie ‘Casablanca’ when the police said, ‘Round up the usual suspects.’” Jacob was a movie buff, especially movies that dealt with the war. “And most of the suspects are here.”
“Well, the ones in town, anyway. I don’t know any of the people she worked with or anyone in her family. That’s why the cops are here; to figure it all out.” She lifted the tray and walked around the counter. “Why don’t you sit inside? It’s much cooler and not as loud.”
“Good idea,” he said as shuffled over to an armchair and sat down. Libby expected he would probably doze off before Julia was ready to go home.
• • •
By nine o’clock, David was breaking down the sound equipment, and the performers were being congratulated on a great preview and the promise of a full house on opening night. Julia took Jacob home well before nine, and Mimi walked home with her husband and children, leaving Libby to lock up. As Jeremy wiped down the tables and straightened the chairs, Libby closed out the cash register.
“Those kids did a great job,” Detective Seiler said, leaning on the counter across from Libby.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she said as she placed the bank deposit in its envelope and laid it on the counter. “You don’t seem like the musical comedy type.”
“Of course, I am. I thought John Travolta was cool in the movie.”
There’s that smile again.
David appeared at the saloon doors separating the café from the kitchen. “Libs, everything’s all broken down, and I’m heading out.”
“David, your kids were a hit. Opening night is going to be fantastic!”
“I sure hope so. The cast and crew worked so hard all summer on this production.”
“Are you packing it in for the night?”
“I’m going to Buster’s to play a gig with Ben. Sure you won’t join me?” Libby and David were regulars at the beach bar and often joined Ben, a local musician, for a few sets. “Ben wanted you to sit in on a set tonight, if you can.”
“No thanks. It’s been a rough couple of days,” Libby said, glancing towards Seiler. “Tell him next time.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow then. I have a new song I want to try out on you,” he said. “Detective, good luck with the case. I hope you find out what happened to Pilar. She’s a nice person, and I hope she’s all right.”
“Thanks. Me, too.”
“I’m out of here. Good night.” David exited through the swinging doors.
“Lock that door, please,” Libby called after him.
“Libby,” Jeremy said. “I wiped the tables and cleaned the bathrooms. So, I’m going to catch David’s set at Busters.”
“Thanks. Your performance was wonderful tonight. I’m going to miss you when you go back to school.”
He picked up his guitar case by the front door, smiled and waved as Libby locked the door behind him. She checked the courtyard door and returned to the counter.
“Detective, I’m starving. Would you like a sandwich?”
“Sure, I could eat something.”
“Ham and cheese on rye?”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“Come on. We’ll eat back here.” She turned off the lights in the front of the store, retrieved the deposit envelope from the counter and led Seiler into the kitchen.
Chapter 7
Tuesday Night
Ham and Cheese on Rye and a Beer
There was a rectangular prep table in the middle of the kitchen. One wall held an industrial-sized double-door refrigerator. The wall, just inside the swinging doors, included a grill, work counter and sink. Libby motioned Seiler towards a stool as she pulled a package of ham and a separate package of provolone cheese from the large, silver refrigerator. She set them on the table and pulled a half-loaf of homemade rye out of the bread cupboard.
“Want a beer? I have Corona.” She opened the adjacent refrigerator door and presented several bottles tucked away in the back.
“Sounds better every minute.”
She placed two bottles on the counter. As Seiler opened them, Libby slid a knife out of the wooden rack and sliced off four pieces of bread.
“What did Detective Stacey find out today?” She asked as she began to prepare their sandwiches.
“He met Chen’s parents at the morgue, and they identified the body. Chen was second-generation Asian-American and the only son. Understandably, they are extremely torn up about all of this.” He placed an open bottle across the table for her and took a sip out of his.
“Did they know Pilar?”
“No, they’d never met her, but they were making plans to meet soon.”
“That’s so sad.” She paused to take a drink of beer.
“Sometimes life can suck.”
She caught his gaze and said, “Mustard or mayonnaise?”
“Both, please.”
“That’s the way I like mine, too,” she said as she used a knife to spread the mayonnaise, added the mustard, then carefully laid the bread on top and sliced it down the middle. She placed the sandwich on a plate and slid it across the table. “There you go, Detective.”
“Thanks.” He took a bite. “Great sandwich! The bread is wonderful.”
“We bake all our bread. Mimi has a Bachelor’s Degree in Pastry. Who knew there was a degree in baked goods?” She smiled as she finished making her sandwich and took a bite. She chewed and w
atched as he bit into his sandwich.
His hair was a little shaggy, but not too long. His skin was dark or maybe just suntanned. His facial features had a subtle Native American look, and his brown eyes revealed an intriguing glint of gold.
Before she got too carried away, she reined in her thoughts, reminding herself that he was, after all, a cop.
“I’m at the courthouse a lot, and I see the lawyers in their power suits carrying briefcases. I can see you in that world.”
“Three years ago that was true. But I left all those suits in Ohio, along with that life. Besides,” she said with a smile, “they surely wouldn’t fit me now. I’ve eaten too many of Mimi’s cookies and maybe indulged in a few too many of these,” she said, holding up her beer before taking another drink.
He looked her up and down in a way that made her heart jump to her throat. “You must have been way too skinny back in the day.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, feeling a flush start at her neck and slowly begin to extend to her hairline.
He smiled and bit into the second half of his sandwich.
“You said you were born here, is that right?” She asked, changing the subject.
“Born and raised on a cattle ranch in Arcadia.”
“You’re a cowboy?”
“I grew up riding horses and roping calves.” He took another bite of his sandwich.
“How did you end up a cop?”
“My uncle was the police chief. I didn’t want to work the ranch so, after I graduated from college, I applied to the police academy, and the rest is history. How about you? Did you go into law enforcement because of your father?”
“Yes, I suppose so. But I was torn between the two sides of my family. The O’Brien clan is large and full of police officers and firefighters. On the other hand, the Bailey side is made up of teachers, artists, musicians and actors. David and I used to sing at every function.” She laughed and held up her beer. “We were the Catholic Donny and Marie.”
“And now you own a café.”
“Co-owner.” Wondering how the conversation had circled back to her, she asked, “So, did you speak to everyone you needed to?”
“Yes, I think so.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin, pushed his plate aside and picked up his beer. “Rachel wants to read my Tarot Cards, and Mrs. Sullivan has some definite ideas about what might have happened to Pilar.”
“The gator bait theory?” Libby laughed and shook her head. “She tried that one out on me this morning.”
“And what’s the story with the four old guys?” He asked. “They said to call them if I needed any extra stake-out help.”
She laughed. “We call them ‘The Company.’ They’re harmless, at least I think they are. I’m sure they’re all ex-spies. They see conspiracy theories everywhere.”
“I wondered about that.” He set his beer on the table and looked across the table at her. “Mr. Mendelson is an interesting man. I noticed the numbers tattooed on his arm.”
“He’s a concentration camp survivor. He was just a kid when the Nazis marched into his village. They sent him to a work camp, but he lost his entire family.” She grew quiet and felt his eyes on her as if he could almost tune into what she was thinking.
Breaking the silence, he said, “He spoke very highly of you.”
Libby debated about telling him anything else, but he had eyes that beckoned her to tell him anything he wanted to know. “He lives next door to my aunt up on Longboat Key. When I first moved here, I was…uh…quite pathetic. We had some late night conversations over the balcony. Neither one of us was able to sleep very much. Knowing what he went through makes my worries seem trivial.”
“I can’t see you as ever being pathetic.”
“Well, I was. Aunt Julia practically forced me to leave the house, and for that, I’ll always be grateful because I met Mimi Marguerite Marie Rutherford, and she talked me into opening this café with her. She should’ve been the lawyer.” Libby stood and began to gather their dishes.
“There’s got to be a story there.”
“She’s named after Mimi, the lead character in ‘La bohème.’”
He shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows.
“You know. The opera. Her parents are great opera fans. I think they might have conceived her with that opera playing in the background.”
“I lean more towards country music. I don’t know anything about opera.”
She dropped their empty bottles into the recycling bin and laughed. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t either until she told me the story.”
“I just thought that once this case is over, perhaps we could do this again.”
“You’re welcome to stop by for a sandwich anytime.”
“I was thinking maybe something more like dinner and a movie.”
“Oh…a date.”
She returned the sandwich fixings to the refrigerator. She turned, crossed her arms in front of her and leaned against the fridge facing him. “I have this rule.”
“A rule?” He put his elbows on the table, put his hands together, rested his chin on his hands and gazed at her with an amused smile.
“Yes, I don’t date cops or lawyers. Based purely on experience.”
“I see.” His eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down. “Please don’t judge me on the bad behavior of those that came before me.”
“Sorry, it’s the rule.” She raised her hands.
He smiled, tapped his fingers on the table and said, “I probably should leave. Thanks for the sandwich and the beer.”
“It’s nothing personal,” she said as he stood.
“Of course. Do I owe you anything for the sandwich?”
“You can walk me to the bank on the corner. I usually go to the bank in the afternoon, but I ran out of time with the trip to Sarasota.”
“It’s the least I can do since your being in Sarasota was my fault. I’ll even drive you home afterward.”
She placed the dishes in the sink. “I’ll get my bag.” She went into the small office off the kitchen and retrieved her purse from the desk drawer. She picked up the deposit envelope, and on the way out the back door, set the alarm, turned off the lights and locked the door.
• • •
At the corner, they turned left to walk the block and a half to the bank. The air felt heavy, and Libby didn’t know if it was because the sea breeze had stilled or that Jack Seiler was walking so close. At the night depository, Jack leaned against the building as she made the deposit.
“Don’t turn around,” he said, “but do you know two guys driving a black SUV?”
“I don’t think so. Is someone watching us?”
“Yes, they were following us on the other side of the road. It looks like they parked on the next block.”
She turned, but the two men had already gotten into the vehicle.
“That’s why I usually make the deposit in the afternoon. Thanks for walking with me. I do appreciate it.”
“It’s the least I could do,” he said as they turned to walk back to the café parking lot, but not before he took one last look across the street.
A few minutes later, Jack pulled into her driveway, put the truck in gear, and turned to face her.
“Is that rule negotiable?”
“The dating rule?”
“Do you think we could both eat in the same place at the same time?”
“An un-date?”
“Does it need a label other than dinner?” He laughed.
Libby shook her head and looked out the window into the night. If he keeps smiling that smile, he’ll be able to get much more out of me than a dinner date. She looked back to him, her porch light illuminating his jawline. “At least you’re not a lawyer.” She opened the door and turned back to his beaming smile and laughed. “Good night, Detective.” She got out of the truck, shut the door and walked around the front of the truck.
“Libby,” he said through the open truck window.
/>
“Yes?”
“My name is Jack.”
“Good night, Jack.” She walked to the front door, turned the key in the lock and looked back at the truck in her driveway. She waved and went inside.
Once inside, she dropped her purse on the desk and peeked through the blinds. She watched his tail lights until they disappeared out of sight. “Cute…definitely very cute.”
Chapter 8
Wednesday Morning
Early Morning Customers
Libby awoke to her phone ringing. She fumbled about on the nightstand until she found it.
“H’lo.” She lifted her head and saw the clock turn to 4:03.
“Miss Marshall, this is Buzz Security,” a male voice said. “The silent alarm is going off at the café.”
“Oh no, not again.” Libby sat straight up in bed. The alarm had gone off twice in the last three months. “Do you think we have another fried squirrel?” The last time the alarm went off a squirrel had run across the wires, touched the transformer on the pole frying the squirrel, blowing a fuse and setting off the alarm in the store.
“There’s no way to tell if it’s a false alarm or not, so we’ve dispatched the police to take a look.”
“Okay, I’ll meet them there.”
“Be careful and wait for the police. If you see anything suspicious, please don’t enter the building.”
“Okay. Okay.”
Libby turned on the bedside light and rolled out of bed. Going to the closet, she pulled on jeans and slipped a denim button-down shirt over the tank top she wore as pajamas. She slipped her mobile phone into her jeans pocket and grabbed her keys from the dish on the table by the front door.
She backed the Jeep out of the driveway and turned it towards the cafe. Libby lived two blocks north and one block west of the cafe. She turned right on North Shell, flew past the church and pulled the car into the parking area behind the shop. The lot was empty, illuminated only by the dim glow of a light mounted on an electric pole and another by the café’s back door.
Murder in Mariposa Beach Page 5