A Deadly Slice of Lime: A Key West Culinary Cozy - Book 6 (9 page)

Marilyn
gazed at the envelope that Tiara had placed on the table between them with a
mix of curiosity and trepidation, somehow knowing that what was contained
within it could potentially have a serious impact upon her daughter.

“Can
you just not open it while I’m here?” Tiara requested, picking up her coffee
mug and taking a sip.

“Of
course,” her mother agreed, scooping up the inch-thick envelope and tucking it
away inside a drawer. Returning to the table, she sunk her fork into a piece of
pie, and encouraged her daughter to do the same. They talked about the great
day that they had on the water, glad that Captain Bob hadn’t been offended by
their reluctance to actually fish, and were able, at least for the moment to
take their minds off of murder and mayhem.

“That
reminds me,” Marilyn remembered suddenly. “I have to meet with my contractor
tomorrow at the shop to finalize the plans for restoration. I’d love it if you
came along,” she encouraged.

“Sure,
why not,” Tiara nodded. “As long as your appointment is after my yoga class.”

“It
definitely is,” her mother assured her. “In fact, I could certainly use a
little stress relief – I think I’ll join you. Then we can walk to the shop
together afterwards.”

Morning
plans made, mother and daughter finished their coffee and pie and watched
romantic comedies until both were trying desperately not to nod off. Throwing
in the towel, they headed up to bed after checking the locks on the doors and
windows.

**

“That
was a fantastic class, my dear,” Marilyn congratulated her daughter after a
challenging hour of Yoga on the Beach, the class that Tiara taught three
mornings a week. “I actually had no idea how out of shape I’ve become until I
tried to hold some of those poses,” she laughed.

“No
worries, you’re still a hot mama,” Tiara teased, wiping her face with a towel
and taking a sip of lemon water.

“Hot?
Yes, I definitely feel as though my thermostat is set too high at the moment,”
she complained good-naturedly.

The
two women strolled to the shop, after picking up iced lattes along their way,
feeling relaxed, limber and optimistic. Endorphins in the morning were
wonderful, and when mixed with caffeine, produced a much-needed euphoria in the
stressed-out mother and daughter. Marilyn introduced Tiara to Reggie and the
three of them delved immediately into talking design, having a ball envisioning
the new and improved space. Time flew quickly, and Marilyn was shocked when she
looked at her watch and saw that it was nearly time for lunch.

The
bell over the front door jangled, and she looked up, expecting to see one of
Reggie’s crew, but pleasantly surprised when Captain Bob walked in. He shook
Reggie’s hand and had hugs for the two women.

“How’s
progress?” he boomed, gazing at the stripped-down structure, arms folded across
his chest.

“Well,
all of the plans have been finalized, materials are being ordered, and I should
be able to reopen again in about six weeks,” Marilyn reported happily.

“Good
deal,” he nodded, with a satisfied smile. “And it’s fortunate that your
situation with the old biddy worked itself out,” he seemed to gloat, making her
a bit uncomfortable.

“Well,
while I’d never say that I was happy that someone died, it is a relief to not
have to go to court,” she replied.

“Unless
of course, her family decides to sue on her behalf,” Tiara added glumly. “Her
nephew has already been stalking Mom, and we think he cut the power lines going
to her house yesterday,” she said, completely missing her mother’s warning
look.

“Is
that true?” all semblance of pleasantry went out of his face as he turned to
Marilyn.

“I
think he’s harmless,” she hedged, not wanting to explore the issues that she
was having with Melvin Bland at the moment.

“I
don’t know about that, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he decided to sue just to
be nasty,” Tiara said, ever the pessimist.

“Ha!
No worries, lass. I told your mama – we small business folk watch out for each
other,” his grin felt somehow menacing. He went over to talk to Reggie and
mother and daughter exchanged a disturbed look.

Saying
their goodbyes and beating a hasty retreat, Marilyn and Tiara headed to the
cottage for lunch.

“Did
the way that Captain Bob talked creep you out a little bit?” Tiara asked
tentatively.

“At
first, yes, but it seems to me that he’s just a chivalrous guy from a different
era who likes to rescue damsels in distress,” her mother smiled.

“Yeah,
I guess I can see that,” she nodded. “I’m starving…what’s for lunch?” she
asked, glad to change the subject.

Marilyn
sighed when she and Tiara turned the corner onto her street and saw Detective
Bernard Cortland’s car parked in front of her house.

“Maybe
he wants to take you to lunch?” Tiara suggested playfully, seeing her mother’s
reaction.

“Definitely
not,” she shook her head. “It seems that every time I see that man these days,
he’s bringing me more bad news,” she frowned.

Her
daughter stopped in her tracks. “You know what? I’ve had just about enough bad
news for a while…I’m just going to head home if you don’t mind,” she looked at
her mother, hoping for understanding.

“Of
course, sweetie. Enjoy your day,” Marilyn hugged her. “And come over for dinner
if you’re not busy,” she smiled at her beautiful girl.

“I
might just take you up on that,” Tiara returned her smile and gave a jaunty
wave as she turned for home.

Bernard
got out of his car and leaned against it as she approached.

“What
now?” she asked, emotionally exhausted all of the sudden.

“Wow…great
to see you too,” he raised an eyebrow at her.

“Sorry,
I just…” Marilyn began. He held up a hand to stop her.

“No,
it’s okay, I get it,” the detective nodded. “Do you have a few minutes?”

“Sure,
why not,” she shrugged, knowing that she really didn’t have a choice. “But I
need coffee, so you’ll have to be patient while I make it,” she decreed.

“Not
a problem, I could use some myself,” he followed her, hands in his trouser
pockets.

**

“So,
what is it now?” Marilyn asked, after setting steaming mugs of coffee in front
of them.

“Well,
there are a couple of things…you might be interested to know that I was able to
verify your husband’s account of what happened between him and Melvin Bland,”
the detective said, taking out his notebook.

“Wait…Daniel
was telling the truth about that?” she was astonished.

“Not
only that, but after executing a search warrant, we found evidence that Melvin
was indeed the one who tampered with your power lines and tried to break into
your home,” he confirmed.

“Well,
I guess he won’t be suing me now, even though he still has some deranged idea
that I killed his mother,” she shook her head.

“Uh…about
that…” Bernard pursed his lips.

“Oh
geez, Detective. Please don’t tell me that you think I’m a suspect,” she sighed
impatiently, dropping her head onto her hand.

“No,
not at all. I know that you’re not a suspect, because we’ve jailed the
perpetrator in that case.”

“You
have? Oh my goodness…who was it?” she demanded.

“It
was Melvin,” the detective tapped his pen on the notebook in front of him.
“When we went looking for evidence related to your case, we found a brand new
copy of her will that left everything to him. It had been signed and executed
the day before her death. We also found the murder weapon, which answers one
question, but opens the door to a whole host of others,” he admitted.

“Really?
How?” Marilyn asked, leaning forward and sipping her coffee.

“Well,
I had been laboring under the assumption that the murder of your ex-husband’s
business partner was somehow related to the murder of Elizabeth Melman, simply
because of the cause of death and the timing, but the weapon that was used on
her was definitely different than the one used on Brad,” he explained.

“Oh
my! Elizabeth Melman’s throat was cut?” Marilyn was horrified.

“Yes,
but not even remotely in the same way as Brad’s. Her…incision was much smaller,
more precise, and there were…markings which indicated a degree of serration in
Brad’s…injury, that wasn’t present in hers,” he said, trying to be delicate.

“Eww…”
Marilyn paled a bit, then her eyes flew open wide as she remembered something.

“What’s
wrong?” Bernard asked, trying to interpret her expression.

“I’ll
be right back,” she said, rising from the table as though in a daze. She went
to the drawer in the kitchen where she had stashed both Daniel’s knife, and the
manila envelope that he had left for Tiara. She explained to the detective how
the knife had been found, and how she’d planned to turn it in, but had gotten
sidetracked. Then she told him that Daniel had left the envelope for Tiara
before disappearing.

“So,
you neither opened the envelope, nor reported its or the knife’s existence to
the police?” Bernard was incredulous. “Do you realize that if your ex-husband
actually did murder his client, that withholding evidence like this makes you
an accessory to the crime?”

The
color drained from Marilyn’s face as she realized the implications of his
words. “Would…is Tiara safe?” she asked numbly.

“If
she gave you the envelope assuming that you’d be turning it in as potential
evidence, then, yes, she’d have nothing to worry about,” he nodded gravely.

Her
shoulders slumped in relief. “She tried to take the knife too, but I wouldn’t
let her. She’s totally innocent. I am too, but I suppose that doesn’t matter
now, does it?” her eyes filled with tears. After as hard as she’d fought to
build and maintain her business, she stood to lose everything anyway…because of
Daniel. It seemed that he was never done destroying her life.

“Let’s
see what’s in the envelope before we jump to conclusions,” he cautioned,
holding out his hand.

Her hands
shaking, Marilyn knew that there was no way that she’d be able to open the
envelope safely, so she pushed it toward the detective, along with her mahogany
handled letter opener. Bernard took the opener and slit open the top of the
large envelope, shaking the contents carefully out onto the table top. There
was a large collection of copies of contracts, news clippings and receipts that
he began flipping through with great interest. Marilyn couldn’t stand the
suspense and got up to refill their coffee, reaching into her breadbox for a
loaf of vanilla iced lime poundcake, not because she was hungry, but because
eating sweets was her reflex response to stress. She took comfort food to
another whole level. She sliced a hearty chunk of cake for each of them, plated
the slices, and brought them to the table.

“Unbelievable,”
the detective shook his head, astounded.

“Yeah,
I know…it’s a bad habit that I have. I crave sweets when I’m stressed, and…”

“No,
I’m not talking about the cake,” Bernard interrupted. “I mean what’s here,” he
gestured to the pile of papers on the table. “What was in the envelope…I never
saw it coming, even though I should have,” he grimaced, figuratively kicking
himself.

Marilyn
sank down into her chair. “Why?” she asked, bracing herself. “What does it
say?”

“Robert
Jensen…the last person I’d have suspected,” Cortland mused.

“Robert
Jensen? Why does that name sound familiar?” Marilyn wondered aloud.

“Because
it’s your buddy, Captain Bob,” the detective dropped the bombshell.

She
was speechless, her mouth hanging open in shock. “Now wait, are you trying to
tell me that Daniel’s cockamamie story about Captain Bob being the killer is
true?” she exclaimed.

“I
didn’t believe it any more than you did, but the evidence here pretty clearly
shows that business associates with whom he doesn’t get along have a strange
way of dying or disappearing. You gave me a heads up on this days ago, and I
should have followed up on it then,” the muscles in the detective’s jaw
twitched.

Marilyn
put it together. “Daniel’s knife was found on Captain Bob’s boat, Brad’s body
washed up on shore, which means that it had to have been taken out to sea at
some point, and Daniel had no way to transport a body. But…what motive would
Bob have had for killing Brad? He barely knew him, right?” she asked, confused.

“This.”
Bernard gestured at the extensive history on the table in front of them. “Brad
had enough dirt on Robert Jensen to put him away for good, and according to
some emails that I found in here,” he shuffled through some clippings to find
the emails. “Brad was blackmailing the captain, threatening to expose his shady
past dealings if he didn’t practically give him the charter business,” he
explained, scanning the series of emails.

Marilyn
swallowed hard, past the lump in her throat, surprised at her reaction. “So, if
Brad had these materials and was killed for them, and then Daniel had them…do
you suppose that Daniel disappeared because…because…” she couldn’t go on.

“Because
Robert killed him?” the detective finished her sentence for her while she tried
to compose herself, feeling foolish at crying over the possible demise of her
ex-husband. “I don’t know. It certainly seems possible, and I intend to find
that out,” he promised, determined. “I need to take this with me…and you’ll be
safer without it hanging around,” he assured her.

“Do
you think Daniel knew that he might be putting Tiara in danger by giving it to
her?” Marilyn asked softly, sniffling.

The
detective bit back his instinctive response. “Hard to say,” he took a breath,
then wanting to lessen the blow, graciously added, “maybe he knew that his
daughter was a young woman of profound integrity whom he could trust to do the
right thing.”

She
nodded, staring down at her untouched piece of poundcake. “Yeah, I’m sure that
was it,” she said numbly. “Now, what Captain Bob said about Elizabeth Melman’s
death makes sense. He didn’t really attach a great significance to the lives of
people whom he didn’t like, so death really wasn’t a big deal to him,” she
murmured, remembering the uncomfortable moment when he’d seemed to be happy
about the old woman’s demise.

Bernard
gave her a questioning look and she told him what had happened at her
appointment with the contractor, when Bob had popped in for a visit.

“So…now
what?” Marilyn asked.

“Now…you
and Tiara need to stick together and try to relax in the most publicly visible
place possible…a crowded restaurant, a souvenir stand, a shopping mall,
something like that, and I’m going to go pay a visit to Mr. Jensen at the
marina,” he replied, telling rather than asking.

“How
will I know when it’s safe to come home?” she asked, suddenly frightened that a
ruthless killer might be stalking her and her daughter.

“I’ll
let you know. You can always go to the police station if you feel uncomfortable
in public,” he advised. “Go pick up your daughter – I’ll contact you as soon as
I know something.”

Marilyn
nodded, throwing away the cake, turning off the coffee pot and quickly stashing
the cups and plates in the dishwasher before grabbing her keys. As she forced
herself to do the speed limit while driving to Tiara’s apartment, the dam of
emotion that she’d been so successfully holding back, suddenly and dramatically
burst, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. She wept for the love that she’d
once had for a carefree young man who turned into a troubled adult. She wept
because her daughter had grown up without the consistent love of a responsible
father. She wept for the death of a crotchety old woman, who was killed by her
own family for the love of money, and she wept because in all of this…she felt
utterly alone.