Murder in Mariposa Beach

by Teresa Michael

  Sitting in the Jeep, she looked around the lot and then back towards the street hoping the policeman on duty that night was available for the call. There were no cars in the parking lot, and she was in such a hurry that she didn’t notice if there were any cars parked on the street. Buster’s and the other beach bars were closed by two o’clock, and the streets were usually deserted by three. The corner of the building was in shadows and, as she turned back to look towards the café door, she thought she saw movement and wondered if the police officer had parked on the street out front and walked through the courtyard.

  Libby slowly opened the car door and stepped out. She walked in front of the car so that she was between the car and the building and stopped just on the other side of the car. She turned toward a noise to her right near the corner of the building.

  “Officer…”

  • • •

  Consciousness returned with a sledgehammer of a headache. Libby awoke looking into six worried eyes. Officer Bobby James, Mimi, and Mimi’s husband, Paul, were bending over her; the flashlight illuminated their eyes like raccoons in the dark.

  “Hey there.” Bobby’s face slipped into a smile. “Welcome back.”

  “What happened?” Libby tried to sit but grabbed her head and fell backward, hoping to stop the spinning and blinding pain.

  “Don’t get up,” Paul said. “The ambulance is on the way.”

  “What happened?” Libby held up her hand and saw her fingers covered with blood. “Holy shit, I’m bleeding.”

  “Lay still. Someone gave you a pretty good whack on the head,” Bobby said. “Did you see anything?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Don’t worry.” Mimi patted her arm. “The ambulance is here. They’ll take you to the hospital. I’ll take care of the café.”

  Chapter 9

  Wednesday Morning

  The Emergency Room

  “Honey, I brought you some clothes.”

  Libby lifted her head off the hospital bed to see her Aunt Julia’s tall, slender frame standing in the doorway.

  “Thanks.”

  “How’s your headache?” Julia laid the clothes on one of the two chairs in the room.

  “It’s better.”

  “Do you want me to turn the light on?”

  “Can you put them on low? The light hurts my eyes.”

  Julia adjusted the lights. “How’s that?”

  “Good.” Libby touched the scalp just behind her right ear. “They shaved some of my hair off to stitch me up.” Libby slowly sat up, and Julia raised the bed then put a pillow behind Libby’s back.

  “It’s in the back so it won’t show much.” Julia took a closer look at the freshly stitched scalp. “It looks like there are about four or five stitches. I’ll pick up some of that dry shampoo, and we’ll get the rest of the blood out of your hair.”

  “Oh, yuck,” Libby said as she tried to drag her fingers through the matted strands of hair. “It’s still numb from the shot.”

  “How long will you be in the Emergency Room?”

  “I don’t know. They’ve scanned me and stitched me, and I guess the doctor is waiting to see if I throw up any more before he decides to let me go. What time is it?

  “It’s about nine o’clock.”

  “Good morning.” Libby was surprised to see Detective Seiler standing in the doorway. “How are you?”

  “Possibly concussed.” Libby pulled up the sheet to better conceal the thin hospital gown.

  “I’m Detective Seiler from the Sarasota County Sheriff’s Office.” He offered his hand to Julia.

  “Julia Gordon. Libby’s aunt.”

  “David’s mother? I saw you last night at the café, correct?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “What are you doing here?” Libby asked.

  “I got the call about last night, so I came in to talk to you.” He stood at the side of her bed, across from Julia. “What do you remember?”

  “Some of it is still not clear. The doctor said I might never remember everything that happened, but I remember getting a call from the security company saying the silent alarm was going off at the café and the police were on the way.”

  “What time was this?”

  “About four, I think.” Libby rubbed her aching temples.

  “Then what happened?”

  “I threw on some clothes and drove the Jeep to the café. I was sitting in the car waiting for the cops. I don’t remember what happened next, but I must have gotten out of the car because, when I woke up I was on the ground on the passenger side of the car. I had a god-awful headache and Mimi, Paul, and Bobby James were hovering over me.”

  “You’re lucky you weren’t killed,” Julia said. “Sweetheart, I really must open the shop. When they release you, call me, and either David or I will come take you home.” Julia owned a gift shop on St. Armand’s Circle, a local tourist and shopping district.

  “I can take her home,” Jack said. “I have to go down there anyway.”

  • • •

  An hour later, Libby was in Jack’s sedan headed south on Highway 41 also known as Tamiami Trail or just “The Trail” to locals.

  “What’s the damage to the cafe?” She asked.

  “I know there’s theft and vandalism, but I don’t know specific details.”

  “Do you think this could be related to Pilar?”

  “That’s the main reason I was called in to check it out. Too much of a coincidence, don’t you think? On Monday, you find your friend’s boyfriend dead in her bedroom, her office ransacked, and she’s missing. Then your place is robbed early Wednesday morning.”

  “My dad used to say there was no such thing as coincidence.”

  “I tend to agree with him.” He glanced over at Libby and saw a tear sliding down her cheek. “Are you in a lot of pain?”

  “Not bad. The nurse gave me some pretty good drugs before I left, plus a prescription.”

  “Why the tears?”

  “I’m not crying,” she said wiping her cheek with her fingers. “What if the café is bad? We can’t afford to stay closed for very long. We have employees and bills, and,” she said raising her hands in a hopeless gesture.

  “Hopefully, the repairs won’t be too bad.”

  As Seiler approached the intersection of Mariposa Boulevard and North Shell, Libby leaned forward to see the café.

  “It looks okay from here. No broken windows.”

  “I’m going to take a wild guess and say you want to stop before going home.”

  “That’s right.”

  He pulled into a parking space on the west side of North Shell and turned towards Libby who was trying to pull her hair over her bandaged scalp. “Here.” He leaned over the seat and handed her a blue baseball cap with an SSO logo, Sarasota Sheriff’s Office. “Put this on.”

  “Thanks.” She placed the cap on her head and pulled her ponytail out the back. The hat almost covered the entire bandage and kept her hair back.

  Jack got out and opened the car door for her. He took her arm to steady her and walked her across the street. There was a closed sign on the front door. As she stepped through the front door, she looked to the left and saw large slices in the cushions on the upholstered armchairs, and the stuffing was pulled out. Amidst the stuffing strewn about the floor, Rachel’s favorite Tarot Card reading table was broken into pieces. Libby remembered the last Psychic Saturday when Rachel had covered the table with a dark paisley cloth and sat with her back against the wall, the sparkle in her dangling earrings catching the candlelight through her long dark hair.

  Next to the doors to the courtyard, books lay on the floor next to the bookshelves, and the faux leather sofa was slashed like the armchairs. The coffee table was upended. The movie and theater posters were pulled off the walls and ripped out of their frames. Libby bent down and picked up the ripped pieces of the ‘Wicked’ poster that had been signed by Idina Menzel, the actress who had played Elphaba on Broadway.<
br />
  “David’s poster is ruined.”

  To her right, broken computers lay on the floor under the shelf that comprised the internet café. Wires dangled from the wall sockets, and bits of plastic from the monitors littered the floor. Looking closer at the machines, she could see an empty slot where the hard drives used to reside.

  Upended tables and chairs made the room an obstacle course, and the floor was gritty underfoot from dumped condiments and sugar. The tie-dye painted piano was usually pushed against the wall, the keyboard facing away from the room, but, today, it was wheeled around facing the door. The piano bench was turned over, the compartment lid lay open and sheet music flowed out onto the floor.

  Libby slowly walked to the piano and fingered the keys with her right hand. She could hear the melody from a few weeks ago when David sat at the piano accompanying Jeremy while he sang a beautiful rendition of ‘Music of the Night’ from The Phantom of the Opera. It had brought tears to her eyes and left the audience speechless, silence hanging heavy in the air before they’d burst into appreciative applause.

  As Libby took in the amount of damage to the café that she and Mimi had worked so hard to build, she began to sink to the floor. Jack put his arm around her waist for support. Mimi was immediately at her side and set a chair upright for her.

  “Libby, I was so scared when I saw you lying on the ground covered in blood.”

  “I wasn’t covered in blood. Mimi tends to exaggerate,” she said to Jack.

  To Mimi, she said, “I have a mild concussion, possibly. They stitched up the laceration. Otherwise, I’m okay.”

  “Mrs. Rutherford, have you taken an inventory of what was damaged?” Jack asked.

  “The bastards made a real mess. They turned over chairs, dumped cooking oil and poured sugar and flour all over the floor. They busted up the computers and took the hard drives out of them. They broke the cappuccino machine.”

  “The cappuccino machine? Why the hell did they break that?” Libby asked.

  “To cover up what they wanted, the hard drives out of the computers,” Jack said.

  “Detective, why would they want the hard drives?” Mimi asked. “They got all the recipes I had stored on my kitchen computer.” Mimi’s blue eyes were filled with tears as she sat down next to Libby. “That’s like stealing a carpenter’s tools.”

  “I’m not sure yet, but I think they thought Pilar concealed information on your computers, so the only way they could get at the information was to snatch the hard drives. Everything else is a cover-up.”

  “Two guys were working at the computers last night just as the show was getting started. Remember, Mimi?”

  “Yes, I remember. On your way out the door, you asked them if they wanted anything.”

  “They told me they were checking e-mail, but I could have sworn they had the Explorer window open.”

  “Like they were searching for files on the hard drive?” Jack asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you remember what time they left?”

  “Just before David started the show, I saw two similar looking men going up the stairs to the Veranda Bar across the street. I remember looking back inside to see if the two men were still there, but I didn’t see them. I think they were the same guys.”

  “So that must have been six-fifteen or so. I’ll check with the hotel on their guests last night, but those guys probably just went over there to have a drink and watch.”

  “You mean like a stakeout?” Mimi asked.

  “Something like that,” Jack said. “Then, there were the two guys following us last night.”

  “What is going on here?” Mimi asked. “This is scary.”

  “They were watching us,” Libby said.

  “Yes, I think so,” Jack agreed. Looking around the room, he added, “Ladies, you both were really lucky here.”

  “Lucky?” Mimi asked. “Libby was knocked out, and our place was vandalized.”

  “It could have been so much worse. Your damage is cosmetic. After a few repairs and clean up, you should be back in business in no time. Libby’s lucky the guy didn’t shoot her.”

  “Yes, of course, you’re right,” Mimi said looking around. “This is all so overwhelming.”

  “I’d better get going. I have to get back up to Sarasota. Libby, may I take you home?”

  “I’ll take her home with me. She shouldn’t be alone.”

  “Hello, you two. Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Libby said, annoyed, yet touched by their concern. There’s nothing wrong with my hearing. Yes, please take me home, Detective Seiler.”

  “No, you have a concussion, and besides I have a doctor at my house,” Mimi argued.

  “First of all, a possible mild concussion. And Paul is a podiatrist. There’s nothing wrong with my feet.”

  “Mimi’s right. The hospital discharge instructions said that you shouldn’t be alone. Someone needs to check on you throughout the day.”

  “Okay. Okay. I give up.”

  “We’ll go home and let you rest for a while,” Mimi said. “The insurance adjuster is scheduled to come by at three this afternoon. He said not to start cleaning up until after he sees the damage.”

  “All right,” Libby said as she rose from the chair. Pointing to the broken table, she said, “Rachel’s going to be upset about her favorite Tarot Card reading table.”

  “I hope she puts a hex on those guys. A horrendously bad one. Maybe they’ll get a really bad rash and be constipated for the rest of their lives,” Mimi said as they closed the front door.

  Jack laughed and walked to his car.

  Chapter 10

  Wednesday Afternoon

  We Are Not Alone

  After a short nap in Mimi’s guestroom, Libby felt better, but the hints of a headache kept needling at the periphery of her consciousness. She was cranky and hoped that this meeting wouldn’t take very long. She was ready to start cleaning up the café and moving on towards getting the place ready to be open for business as soon as possible.

  Lloyd Anderson was standing at the front door of the café when Mimi pulled her Camry into the parking spot in front of him. He was about fifty years old and wore a blue and orange Florida Gators camp shirt, khaki pants, and sneakers. He had closely cropped brown hair, Buddy Holly glasses, and carried a battered brown leather briefcase. After the appropriate introductions, he set the briefcase down inside the front door and retrieved a digital point-and-shoot camera from his pants pocket. He meticulously snapped pictures from the front door to the back door and from the west wall to the east wall, making sure to capture each broken mug, tipped chair and dangling computer wire.

  When he finished with the photographs, they righted a table and three chairs to complete the paperwork. He began to detail their next steps and asked them to obtain replacement cost estimates for the broken cappuccino machine, computers, furniture, supplies and other miscellaneous damaged items.

  He closed his notebook and commented, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get here sooner today. I had three other very similar cases in the last couple of days. I had to go to St. Pete earlier this morning.”

  “Is there a rash of breaking and entering going on?” Mimi asked.

  “Coincidentally, they all involved general mischief, vandalism, stolen laptops and desktop computer damage with the hard drives removed.”

  “Really?” Libby asked.

  “Yeah, so close I think they may have been pulled off by the same gang. There are too many coincidences.” He shook his head and tapped his right forefinger on the stack of papers. “I’m going to provide copies of my reports to the St. Pete Police and the Sarasota County Sheriff’s Office. One of my colleagues is handling another robbery in Manatee County.”

  “Were they all on the same night?” Libby inquired.

  “No, but close. The Manatee job happened early yesterday morning. The St. Pete job was about ten o’clock last night, and then yours was about…” He shuffled papers looking for the ti
me.

  “Four o’clock this morning.” Libby finished his sentence. “Are there any other similarities?”

  “Now that you mention it,” he said, as he continued to search through his papers, “there was something that caught my eye.”

  “What is it, Mr. Anderson?” Mimi asked.

  “It’s here somewhere.” He found what he was looking for in his stack of papers and then pulled a manila folder out of his briefcase and laid out three sheets of paper on the table. He bent over them and then slid his glasses on top of his head. “I knew that name sounded familiar.”

  “What name?” Libby and Mimi asked, almost in unison.

  “The same computer company is involved with all three businesses. The burglarized businesses are a law office, a day spa and your café. You all bought equipment and services through South Florida Workplace Solutions, Inc.”

  “What about the sales rep? Is Pilar Montoya their sales rep?” Libby asked. Three burglaries, the same computer company and a common sales rep, way too many coincidences for her taste.

  “I don’t know. I don’t have that information.”

  After Mr. Anderson left, Mimi said, “I think you should call Detective Seiler and tell him what the insurance guy said.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  Since the landline was not functional and the phone lay in pieces on the floor, Libby used her cell phone to call the Sheriff’s office.

  “Detective Stacey.”

  “Good afternoon, Detective. It’s Libby Marshall.”

  “Miss Marshall, Jack told me about the break-in last night. How are you feeling?”

  “I still have a headache but, hopefully, it will go away soon. Is Detective Seiler there?”

  “He stepped out of the office for a few minutes but should be back soon. Can I help you?”

  She explained what Mr. Anderson said about the similarities of the three break-ins. “He said he was going to share his reports with the police departments in each jurisdiction, but I’m not so sure how closely the three counties communicate with each other.”