Murder in Mariposa Beach

by Teresa Michael

  “Thanks.” She settled back into the lush leather seats and asked, “How did things end up in Key West? Did you find the flash drive?”

  “Not by the time I left, but it doesn’t matter. There’s plenty of evidence to convict everyone involved. It’s just a loose end, and nobody likes loose ends.”

  Libby told him about the party and the two men she overheard talking about Mr. Montoya’s new information. “I think that Mr. Montoya has the flash drive in his possession.”

  “Libby, that’s a big leap. There’s no indication that anyone associated with Montoya, other than Tony, was in Key West. Also, there’s no evidence that Tony’s path crossed with anyone associated with Max Holden.”

  Libby realized she needed to tell Jack about Mario. She took a deep breath and asked, “Do you remember back in the police station in Key West when I was getting wired up? I said to both you and Detective Bauer that I told Mr. Montoya I was coming down to Key West to trade the flash drive for Pilar. Remember that?”

  “Yes.” He glanced at her and then back at the road.

  “I saw a guy at Mr. Montoya’s house who I also saw in Key West. He was at The Blue Pelican when we were there. He could have been watching Max’s house and took the flash drive from Jason before the cops picked him up.”

  “That’s sure a new twist. You should have told me sooner. I need to let Mark know about this.”

  “I probably should have told you that night, but I didn’t realize there could be a connection until I saw the guy again at Montoya’s in the security room. You should have seen the state of the art security system and the guys monitoring it. I’m telling you, Mr. Montoya is like the Cuban Godfather. He even told me that anytime I needed a favor to call him.”

  Jack laughed and took the entrance ramp onto Interstate 75 towards home. “That’s one of the things I like about you, your vivid imagination. Sit back and enjoy the ride,” he said, shifting into fourth gear.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t quite full disclosure but at least her conscience was clear on the subject of Mario. She leaned back and let the soft leather seat envelop her.

  “Libby.” Jack’s voice sounded far away.

  “Yes.”

  “You okay?”

  “I am so okay,” she said, her eyes still closed.

  “What about Tony?”

  “What about him?”

  “What about you two?”

  She sat up and looked at him. “There’s nothing.”

  “Didn’t look like nothing.” He looked at her and then back at the road. “Back there in the lobby.”

  She looked out the passenger window and realized they were on the stretch of road called Alligator Alley that ran East and West through the Everglades. She must have dozed off for a few minutes. “Is that what that hello kiss back there was all about?”

  “I figured if he was watching, and if this is a pissing contest, I figured I should show him that I’m in the game,” Jack said. He shrugged and looked from her back to the road. “If I was him, I would’ve been watching out of one of those big windows.”

  “Game?” She shook her head and then turned back to him. “I’m going to let that comment go for now, but didn’t you see me push him away?”

  “Nope. I guess I missed that part.”

  “Obviously.” She turned away and watched the scenery for a moment, then asked. “Are you jealous?” She smiled at him as he glanced over at her.

  “I want to know where we stand.”

  “Tony and I are over. I swear.”

  “Did you tell him that?”

  “I did last night when we had a nightcap in the bar.”

  “A nightcap in the bar?”

  “Yes, but I went to my room by myself, and I left him in the bar.”

  He smiled back and said, “In that case, I have a cousin who runs a hotel on the beach in Sanibel. How about we stop there for tonight? I can get the Friends and Family Rate. I’m sure Mimi can handle things for one more day.”

  “I think that can be arranged.”

  “I was hoping we could pick up where we left off the other night.”

  “You mean where Johnny and Mary Beth left off?”

  “No, where Jack and Libby left off.”

  “I’d like that.”

  She let a few minutes go by and then said, “Jack?”

  “Yes?”

  “You wouldn’t happen to have a cousin who can get me a good deal on a cappuccino machine, would you?”

  Chapter 37

  Three Months Later

  The Last Song

  Libby was reorganizing the books on the shelves next to the fifty-five-inch flat screen television in the Mariposa Café. The new television replaced the much smaller one that was ripped off the wall and broken when the shop was vandalized in August. Libby, Mimi, their friends and family members took the month of September to repaint, refresh and replenish in time for the grand re-opening event the first week of October.

  In a way, it reminded her of when they were scrambling to get ready for the first grand opening, but this time, they had much better funding, thanks to Javier Montoya’s reward check.

  She was looking forward to seeing Jack that evening. He had promised her a real date night. He was working a busy case, and she hadn’t seen him much in the last few weeks. To her surprise, she missed him.

  Ever since their one Sanibel night had turned into two nights, they’d been a couple. Remembering how they had only come out of their beachfront room to walk the beach, get food or have a drink at the tiki bar, she blushed.

  She wanted to ask if he was still looking for the disappearing flash drive but didn’t want to broach the subject again. She was sure it was in Javier Montoya’s possession, but she couldn’t prove it.

  Unfortunately, she no longer had access to the files contained on the flash drive. Soon after their return to Mariposa Beach, Jack had shown up at her door with a computer forensics guy who removed the files from her backup drive. He also made sure the files were deleted from any of her devices, thus removing any chance of her snooping through the files.

  By early November, Libby’s wounds had healed well, and she had regained almost full functionality of her right hand. She found that re-shelving the books seemed to help with her dexterity, so Mimi handled the breakable items and Libby handled all the non-breakable ones.

  As she filed the books in alphabetical order by author, Libby was half humming and half singing along with David who was at the piano playing snippets of show tunes.

  It was the middle of the afternoon, the slowest time of their workday. Winston, one of the local retirees, was sitting near the front window with a cup of coffee and a newspaper. Four teen-agers were sitting in the courtyard drinking coffee and enjoying the decreased humidity of a sunny November day, their backpacks, undoubtedly filled with homework, lying on the ground next to their chairs.

  David stopped playing and said, “The selection committee is meeting next week. I have to present three choices for the spring musical. So far, nothing is grabbing me.”

  He had the scores from “Hairspray,” “Mama Mia,” “Les Misérables,” and “My Fair Lady” as well as a selection of Rogers and Hammerstein musicals…and those were just the songs he had played so far.

  Mimi came through the swinging doors to the kitchen area wearing a flour-covered apron and said, “My all-time favorite is “The Sound of Music.”

  “That’s always a good choice, but a safe one,” he said. He scratched his head and went back to sorting through his stack of music. “I think they may have performed it a few years ago before I got here. I don’t want to repeat it too soon.”

  “We did “The Sound of Music” so many times when we were kids,” Libby said.

  “Really?” Mimi came around the counter and looked from David to Libby and back. “How many times?”

  “Well, over the years, I think I’ve played three of the daughters. The year I played the oldest sister, Lisel, David played
the next brother.”

  “We got rave reviews because we look like brother and sister,” David said, turning back to the music in front of him.

  “Then it should be an easy choice because you already know how to direct it,” Mimi offered.

  “I think you should do a variety show, like Carol Burnett,” Winston offered, looking up from his paper. “Those are always fun.”

  “That’s a good idea. We could write something original,” David said, turning from the piano in the front window towards Libby across the room. “Remember those shows our mothers used to put us in?”

  She laughed. “I’m surprised neither one of us is scarred for life because of some of those crazy shows.” Libby continued to rearrange the books. “Why can’t people put these back where they got them?” They had a book borrowing shelf where people could take a book or leave a book, but recently it seemed as if people were leaving more than they were taking.

  “Most people aren’t obsessive about putting their books in order by author,” Mimi said and rolled her eyes. “David, tell me. What kind of shows did you all do?”

  “Musicals, pageants, variety shows. You name it. We were in it,” he said. “You know what stage mothers we both have.”

  “Good afternoon.” Mr. Ellis, the mailman, stood in the doorway. He was thin, wiry and about fifty.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Ellis,” Mimi said. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee?”

  “I do believe I’m ahead of schedule.” He set his mail pouch on the nearest table. “Just enough time for a short one.” He handed a stack of mail to Libby as Mimi went behind the counter to pour his coffee and David turned back to the sheet music spread across the top of the upright piano.

  Libby sat on the sofa and began to sort the mail onto the coffee table, bills in one stack and junk mail in another. A large envelope with no return address caught her eye. She turned the envelope over and undid the clasp. She looked inside to find two sheets of white paper. She removed them and laid the envelope on the table.

  As she read the letter, she gasped, “Oh my God!”

  “Libby, what is it?” Mimi asked.

  “I can’t believe it,” Libby said as Mimi joined her on the sofa. “It’s this letter.”

  “What letter?” David asked, taking a seat on the arm of the chair adjacent to the sofa.

  Mr. Ellis moved to the end of the sofa on Mimi’s side.

  “It’s…it’s a letter from Max Holden,” Libby said, holding up the letter.

  “He’s the guy who ordered Pilar’s kidnapping, isn’t he?” David asked.

  “Technically, he ordered his guys to get the flash drive back, but yes, he was responsible for Pilar’s kidnapping and Richard Chen’s murder.”

  “Why would he send you a letter?” Mimi asked.

  “What’s it say?” David asked.

  Libby began to read the letter aloud…

  Dear Libby:

  This is the last communication from Max Holden. I’m going into Witness Protection. It appears the middleman has something to bargain with after all. Even though you stabbed me and then banged my head on the pavement, I realized that I should thank you. Without you, I’m sure my brains would have been splattered across my patio floor, definitely worse than Witness Protection. They’ve taken everything, my house, my bar, everything. All I have is my last song. It’s yours for saving my life. Do with it as you wish. I regret we weren’t able to sing it together.

  Wish me luck,

  Max Holden

  “Holy Mother of God! He’s given me his song!”

  “What do you mean…his song?” David asked. “You didn’t tell me this part.”

  “Me either,” Mimi said. “What happened?”

  Libby took a deep breath and looked from David to Mimi to Mr. Ellis, still drinking his coffee. “It was all over, and I didn’t want to go into all the details, but when I was in the studio with Max, he wanted me to play this song. He ordered me to sit on the piano bench, held a gun to my head and demanded I play this song. He said he wanted it to be a duet.”

  Mimi gasped and David swore. Winston looked up from his paper.

  “What did you do?” Mimi asked.

  “I started to play, but we got interrupted before I could get very far. Sight reading is not my forte, and I was nervous, so it took me a couple of times to get through the first few measures.”

  “And he’s sent that song to you now?” David asked. “From a musician, that’s a tremendous gift.”

  “But he was holding you hostage. Why would he send you this gift?” Mimi asked.

  “And she stabbed him, too,” Mr. Ellis added.

  “I don’t know why he’s sending this to me. It’s crazy.”

  David took the music and read the title at the top. “The Last Song by Brian Maxwell Holden.”

  “As I remember, the lyrics were quite beautiful, wrong choices and life’s path and such.” She dropped the letter on the table. “I thought it would be a good break-up song.”

  “It sounds as though you liked this guy, at least a little,” Mimi said.

  After a long pause, she said, “I liked his decorating choices, and without the gun pointed at my head, I think maybe I might have or would have liked him. His band had a nice sound. A part of me thinks it would have been fun to play music with him.” Libby stopped for a moment and looked out into the courtyard. “I do think he regretted some of the choices he made. I think he must have put some of those feelings into this last song.”

  “Maybe you had Stockholm Syndrome,” Mr. Ellis said.

  She rolled her eyes and said, “Not likely. All I wanted to do was get out of there without anyone getting shot.”

  David studied the lyrics and music for a few moments, then said, “It’s a nice song, and I think he’s right. It would be a great duet.”

  David had the uncanny ability to study almost any passage of music and hear it, as if it were being played, in his head. It was a gift that Libby understood, but didn’t possess.

  He stood up with the music in his hand.

  “Where are you going with that?” She asked as she stood to face him.

  “I was going to play it.”

  “No,” she said, pulling it from his hand. “I don’t want to hear it.” She grabbed the envelope and stuffed the letter and the music inside.

  “Libby?” Mimi asked, standing and touching her on the shoulder.

  “I think this is very creepy, and I’m not sure how I feel about this.”

  “What are you going to do with it?” David asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “You’re not going to do anything rash, are you?”

  “Rash?”

  “Like shred it or light it on fire?”

  “Nothing so dramatic. You have me confused with your mother.”

  David chuckled and reached for the envelope. “How about I keep this for you? It obviously makes you uncomfortable.”

  “I think the whole experience is still too fresh in your mind,” Mimi offered.

  “I’ll keep it for you and then when you’re ready, perhaps we can play it together, maybe even record it. It could be a big hit.”

  “Don’t hold your breath on that.”

  Winston set down his newspaper and declared, “It’s a freaking musical soap opera around here.”

  • • •

  Libby was at the beach, sitting on her favorite picnic table, gazing out to sea.

  She thought about Max Holden, his letter, the song and Witness Protection. She realized that they were not much different in the latter aspect. He would get a new name and a new life in a new place. And that’s basically what she had done.

  She’d left Ohio, changed her name, started a new career and made new friends. But, unlike Holden, she hadn’t lost everything. She still had her Aunt Julia, David and her mother back in Ohio as well as her new friends in Mariposa Beach. And now…she had Detective Jack Seiler.

  “Hello.”

  S
he jumped and grabbed her throat.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. You must have been in deep thought.” Jack sat beside her, then put his arm around her and kissed her temple.

  As her heartbeat slowed to normal, she asked, “Is it time for our date? I must have lost track of time.”

  She kissed him on the lips, letting what they shared fill her with a warmth and comfort she’d never known till she’d had the courage to break her own rule.

  “I’m a little early. I stopped by the café, and Mimi said you took a walk. I thought I would find you here.”

  “It’s so good to see you.” She snuggled against him, feeling safe within his embrace.

  “What’s up?” He asked. “Mimi said you’ve had a rough day.”

  She told him about receiving the letter and song from Max Holden. “I thought that once you were in Witness Protection, you had no contact with the outside world…new identity, new life and all that.”

  “That’s true, but apparently he was either able to sneak this out himself or got someone to do it for him,” Jack said. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

  Libby knew where he was going with his question.

  On more than one occasion, he’d suggested she seek counseling. After their ordeal in Key West, he was concerned that both she and Pilar were susceptible to PTSD.

  “I gave the envelope to David. He has the letter and the song. He can do with it whatever he wishes. I want nothing to do with it,” she answered him, knowing as well as he did that it was lame and didn’t solve a darn thing.

  “The old ‘out of sight, out of mind’ strategy?” He asked.

  “At least for now,” she said, hoping her feelings on the matter might change sometime soon.

  He lifted her chin with his forefinger and said, “All right. But, I’m in this with you, and I’m here for you…always.” He kissed her lips and then her forehead.

  “Get a room.” They heard from behind.

  Laughing, they turned to see Ida Sullivan with Zsa Zsa in the basket of Ida’s walker, along with Ida’s favorite cocktail shaker, no doubt filled with a margarita. Zsa Zsa barked and danced with excitement.