Key Lime Crime

by Cassie Rivers

  “Oh my, oh my,” Star exclaimed. “That’s Missy Harmon’s car. It’s her, isn’t it?”

  “I can’t confirm that at this time. We have to finish the investigation first before any information can be made public,” Deputy Johnson replied.

  “It’s her,” Sonny said nonchalantly. “Or at least, that was the name she used when she checked in.”

  Suddenly, the sound of a police siren and screeching tires echoed through the parking lot. Chief Martin had arrived. He wasted no time in getting out of the car. As he approached us, he had a stern look of frustration that caused his mustache to curl upwards.

  “Johnson, what the hell is going on here?”

  “Chief, I was just telling these young ladies to move along.”

  As Chief Martin turned to Sonny Pines and Deputy Johnson to explain the merits of keeping the crime scene confidential, I began to whisper quietly to Star.

  “We have to get a picture of that suicide letter he’s holding. You keep sweet-talking the deputy and snap a picture with your phone. I’ll keep Sam Martin busy.”

  “Kara, why are you here?” Chief Martin asked as he turned his attention at me. “You and Star are a long way from Grove Park.”

  “We were driving to Parrot Bay to look at a new oven for my truck. On the way, we noticed the police lights and Mrs. Harmon’s car parked out front of the Cozy Cove. I was concerned something was wrong with Missy, so I stopped to see what was going on.”

  “I had no idea that you were close to Mrs. Harmon.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t close at all to her. Until the other day, she’d never spoken a word to me. After the passing of her husband, she contacted me about catering an event for her.”

  As Chief Martin continued to scold me, I peeked out of the corner of my eye to spy on Star and Deputy Johnson, who had slipped off in the distance.

  “I feel so much better knowing that there are strong officers like you protecting Sunny Shores,” Star said as she placed her hand on his upper arm.

  Johnson turned eight shades of red. “I’m just doing my job, ma’am. It’s nothing, really.”

  “You can call me Star,” she said as she moved in closer to him. “Maybe we can have dinner sometime, and I’m sure you can tell me a few exciting stories about your job.”

  “Really?” Deputy Johnson squealed out in a voice that was three octaves higher than normal. He then cleared his throat and responded in a much deeper and macho tone. “I’ll check my calendar. I’m sure we could arrange something.”

  “Can I get a picture of you?” Star asked.

  “A picture? What for?”

  “I need a picture of you to put in my phone, so I know it’s you when you call.”

  Johnson looked behind him to ensure the Chief was occupied and said, “Well… when you put it that way, sure, why not?”

  Star pulled out her phone and pointed the camera at Deputy Johnson. “Hold up that bag in your hand and smile big. There’s nothing sexier than a man in action on the job.”

  As soon as I noticed Star was finished taking the picture, I nodded my head as a signal for it being time to leave. We didn’t need to overstay our welcome.

  “We’re sorry for intruding. We’ll leave and get out of your way,” I said as I motioned for Star. “Star, let’s go.”

  As Star opened the driver’s side door, she waved to Deputy Johnson and said, “Call me.”

  Deputy Johnson grinned, but quickly did a double-take.

  “Wait… you never gave me your number.”

  Star smiled as she sat down and shut the door behind her, blowing a kiss at him as we drove off.

  “That was so exciting,” I said to Star as we made our way down the highway. “I’ve never done anything like that before. It felt dangerous.”

  “I have to admit, Kara, that was pretty exhilarating.”

  “You actually took a picture with Deputy Johnson and the letter?” I asked as I examined the picture on Star’s phone. “Why didn’t you just zoom in on the letter itself? He never would have known.”

  “I don’t know,” Star responded, shrugging her shoulders. “I think he’s kind of cute.”

  “Oh my.”

  “What does it say?”

  “I don’t believe it. It’s a confession.”

  “A confession for what?”

  “The murder of her husband.”

  Although I needed a drink, I settled for the next best thing… caffeine.

  “Something seems off about this entire situation,” I said as I continued to stare at the photo on Star’s phone.

  “Stop trying to over-analyze everything. There’s nothing left for you to prove. You were right the entire time,” said Star.

  “She’s right, Kara. You were the first to realize it wasn’t an accident, and you suspected Missy Harmon from the beginning. The letter she wrote proves that you were right,” Ty said, trying to be the voice of reason. “You solved the case.”

  “If her motivation for killing her husband was money, why would she kill herself before she cashed in on a fortune?” I asked. “That’s the part that doesn’t make sense.”

  “Who knows what was going through that bimbo’s head at the time. She was probably starting to feel guilty for what she did to her husband. Or, more likely, she knew that you were close to exposing her for what she did. Either way, it’s over now.”

  I continued to stare at the phone as I took a deep breath. My mind tumbled around and around like a washing machine as I tried to piece everything together. My head was overwhelmed with clues, suspects, motives, and the like. Much to the dismay of my friends, I couldn’t let it go.

  Bonnie May walked over to our table with a fresh pot of coffee. Although her intentions were to top off our cups, I was sure a small part of her was curious about our conversation.

  “I take it y’all have heard about what happened to Missy Harmon,” she said as she approached the table. “I never would have pegged her as the type of person to take her own life.”

  Although Star and I were present at the crime scene, neither one of us was able to get a clear view of the body. The only clue we were able to see was the suicide letter. There was no sign of how she did it. I then realized who we were talking to. If anyone had inside info, it would be Bonnie May.

  “We were all shocked as well,” I said. “Do you have any idea what happened?”

  “A little birdie told me that she wrote a letter confessing that she killed her husband. Her body was found by Mr. Pines after he received an anonymous call. They found an empty bottle of Vicodin behind the headboard of the bed. It appears that she OD’ed.”

  “On the bright side, I don’t have to read those condescending comments she wrote on her receipts anymore.”

  When she mentioned Missy’s notes, a photo flashed into my mind of the receipt that Bonnie May had shared with me the other day. That was one of the strange things about my photographic memory. I never knew what would trigger it. Just a thought, a mention, or overhearing a subject or idea could bring a memory out of my mind.

  “That’s it,” I shouted. I turned to Bonnie May and asked, “Can you pull out your receipts from the other day?”

  “I can, but why?”

  “I need to see the one for Missy Harmon.”

  Seeing the determined look on my face, Bonnie May agreed to my request. She went behind the counter and pulled out a tin lockbox. She flipped through the pile of receipts until she found the one from Missy. She walked over and handed it to me.

  “I knew it,” I said. “The signature on the suicide note doesn’t match the one on the receipt.”

  I zoomed the image on the phone to show a close up of Missy’s signature and showed it to the group.

  “How in the world did you get a picture of letter?”

  “You’re not the only one in this town with connections, Bonnie May.”

  Ty wasn’t as convinced as I was. “I don’t know, Kara. The signatures look similar enough. If she was suicidal and stress
ed, I’m sure it would have been reflected in her handwriting. I wouldn’t expect it to be exactly the same as when she was having coffee.”

  Ty had a valid point, but I wasn’t convinced. There was one feature in particular about her signature that immediately tipped me off. It was the first thing that flashed into my mind when I recalled the image of her receipt. Missy had a peculiar way of writing the “y” in her first name.

  It’s the ‘y’ in Missy,” I said as I pointed to the signature on the receipt. “Look at the strange way she curls the tail. It looks like an infinity sign.”

  “You’re right. I never noticed it before. I guess I was so fixated on the stupid comments she wrote.”

  “If you look at the signature on the note, the curl is different.”

  Ty looked closer at the receipt. “You’re right.”

  If Missy Harmon wasn’t the killer, the only question now was… who was it?

  17

  That evening at home, my mind felt exhausted. The only thing I wanted to do was sleep. So I decided to turn in and go to bed early.

  To be honest, staying at home alone had me spooked. Luckily for me, I was too tired to think about it that night. It had been a long and exhausting day.

  As I slipped into bed, a loud crashing sound came from downstairs. I froze at first, not knowing what to do. It didn’t take long to convince myself I was hearing things. I felt convinced my mind played a trick on me, but I needed proof before I could sleep.

  In what was likely a poor mark of judgment, I decided to walk downstairs and see what was going on.

  I tiptoed slowly down each stair, my heart racing quicker with each step. What the heck was I doing? Maybe curling up under the covers was a better option than marching towards my inevitable death.

  When I walked into the living room, I flipped the light switch. When the room lit up, I scanned around, trying to find the source of the loud sound. It wasn’t long before I found the issue.

  Over by the sofa, glass shards were scattered out across the floor. The window in the living room was broken, with a large rock being the culprit. Not only that, but a note was attached to the rock.

  I walked over to examine it closer. I detached the note from the rock and read it out loud to myself.

  If you don’t want to end up like Missy or John… BACK OFF.

  I screamed out loud as I dropped the rock on the floor. For the first time in my life, I felt in true danger. I honestly felt scared for my life.

  I ran upstairs to retrieve my phone. The first person I called was Sam Martin. He told me to stay in my room and lock my door. He would be out there immediately.

  Before I could return to my room, I heard a knock on the front door. What now? I thought.

  I looked out the peep hole, not knowing what to expect. Thankfully, the person standing at the door was a welcome sight. I felt at ease as I opened the door.

  “Is everything OK in here?” Will asked. “I heard a loud scream while I was out for my evening jog.”

  A few minutes later, Sam and a couple police officers showed up. After looking around the house, they determined that the person responsible had left the scene. Sam told me he’d have officers ride by every hour or so, to make sure I was safe.

  “You shouldn’t stay here alone tonight,” Sam said as he paced around. “I have a bad feeling.”

  “I can stay, officer,” Will replied. “I don’t mind at all.”

  “This is very sweet of you, but you don’t have to stay,” I said. Deep down I knew I wanted him to stay. The last thing I wanted to do was seem needy or overzealous.

  “It is not a question of feeling obligated, Kara,” he said as he flashed that amazing smile of his. “I want to stay.”

  I was trying not to blush, but I was sure my face was as red as velvet cake. I pressed my body against his and he wrapped his strong arms around me. For the first time all night, a feeling of safety and security flushed through my body.

  I removed my head from his chest and whispered into his ear, “Thank you so much, but I do have one favor to ask.”

  “Sure, Kara. Just name it,” he said.

  “Please take those muddy tennis shoes off before they ruin my carpet.”

  He chuckled and said, “Whoops.”

  “Let me run upstairs and get you a blanket and pillow.”

  News traveled fast around Sunny Shores. The next morning, I was bombarded with questions from both Star and Ty.

  “I wish you would’ve called me, Kara,” Ty said. I could tell that he was worried about me. To be honest, it was very sweet.

  “Your mom is putting in a security system?”

  “Oh heck no, we can’t afford that.”

  “What could you afford?”

  I reached behind the counter and pulled out an aluminum baseball bat that I’d purchased at Jimmy’s Sporting Goods. It seemed like a good compromise. The bat was light, but still could pack a wallop. Plus, it would come in handy if I ever joined a softball team. Plus, it was bright pink.

  “After last night, I’m not taking any chances.”

  Ty grabbed the bat out of my hand. He gripped the handle and stood there posing like he was a player at bat. “This brings back memories. I wonder if I still have it. It’s been years since I’ve played.”

  I laughed. “Ty, you never did have it. My dad always said you swung like a girl.”

  Star shook her head. “I can see that.”

  “You’re both crazy. I had a mean swing back in the day.”

  “You keep telling yourself that, slugger,” I said as I stole the bat out of Ty’s hands. “You forget that I went to all of your games and witnessed that mean swing of yours first-hand. Too bad the object of the game was to actually hit the ball.”

  18

  "Oh, crap!" Star said. "Trouble's coming right this way at twelve o'clock."

  "I guess we’re good then," I replied, as I continued mixing. "It's half-past 1:30 now."

  I was so deep in thought while I spun the spoon around the ceramic bowl that I wasn't paying close attention to what she was saying. I had a tendency to have tunnel vision when I had a lot on my mind. This time was no exception. All I could concentrate on was the mystery surrounding the two murders.

  "No, dummy," she said as she snapped her fingers to get my undivided attention. "Twelve-o'clock, as in right in front of us."

  Star pointed out the side window towards the grassy lawn in front of us. Walking swiftly toward my truck was Carlos Martinez. His face was void of emotion, as if he was in deep thought.

  "He doesn't have a knife in his hand, does he," I whispered to Star, only half-kidding.

  “I don’t think so,” Star replied. “Maybe I should grab your bat, just in case.”

  "Hola, Star," Carlos said as he leaned against the window. "Do you mind if I talk to Kara in private for a moment? Por favor."

  Star turned around and stared at me with her eyes wide open. I could tell that she was concerned, and she didn't want to answer unless I gave her a sign. Her emerald green eyes were piercing, as if she was trying to talk through them.

  “Sure, Carlos,” I said as I nervously smiled. "Star, can you give us a minute?"

  “I’ll hang around close by,” Star said as she made her way in the direction of the back door. The entire time her eyes were locked in on Carlos.

  “It’ll be OK, Star. I don’t see that vein poppin’ out of Carlos’s neck today.”

  "I guess I deserve that," Carlos said as he took a deep breath. "Especially after the way I acted the other day."

  "I'll admit, I was a little nervous. I've never seen you act that way."

  I had never seen that side of Carlos, so it wasn’t far-fetched that I’d be anxious around him. He would appear slightly intense at times, but showed nothing but respect for me and the other owners. It was hard to admit to myself, but his brash actions only heightened my suspicions of him.

  Carlos appeared nervous as he tapped his fingers against the counter.

&
nbsp; "I need to be honest with you, Kara. You were right about me."

  "What?"

  My heart began to race. My stomach dropped to the floor of the truck. Was he confessing to the murder? Was I next?

  "Not about me being the murderer," he said as he began to chuckle. "You were right about me being a former convict."

  I breathed a much-needed sigh of relief.

  "When I was in my thirties, I worked for a large investment firm in Boston. I had worked my way from being an entry-level sales associate to being the assistant to the regional manager."

  "Really? I never would have guessed." His mannerisms and appearance never struck me as him being the corporate, nine-to-five type.

  "You should know better than anyone that you can't judge a book by its cover."

  He was right about that.

  "My boss and a few of his associates were engaged in illegal activities, such as insider trading and outright fraud. When my boss became aware of undercover investigations going on in our firm, he needed an escape plan. Unfortunately for me, I was the scapegoat."

  "How did they pin it on you?" I asked.

  "My boss had forged hundreds of illegal documents with my name on them. He had also set up two off-shore accounts in my name and funneled money into them. I had no idea. At least I didn't until the FBI stormed into my home to arrest me."

  Carlos’s mood turned somber. His eyes began to water as he tried to hold back the tears. I pulled out a tissue from behind the counter and handed it to him.

  "Thanks, Kara," he said as he rubbed the tissue against his eyes. "I lost three good years of my life because of them. Three years in prison where I was away from my friends and family."

  "That's awful, Carlos," I said as I began to feel sad as well. "Is that why you moved here? To get away from it?"

  "As I rotted away in that awful prison, I made two important promises to myself. For one, I would never work in the corporate world again. I would never succumb to that corruption and greed."

  "What was the other?"

  "That I would never take family and friends for granted. That's why I moved here. I wanted a second chance at life. This was a new opportunity for me."