Live and Lime Die: A Key West Culinary Cozy - Book 8 (7 page)

Jenna
had dated a wide variety of men in her lifetime and had used many more as
playmates. To say that she was well-versed in manipulation would be the
understatement of the year. She’d kept company with more than her share of
doctors, always seeming to end up frustrated with their lack of availability to
her, so she was eerily comfortable in a hospital environment. She’d been snuck
into more on-call rooms, dressing areas and empty offices than she could
recall, and knew her way around all of the systems, rules and regulations that
were in place to protect the unsuspecting public from folks like her.

Her
favorites had been the coma patients. After a quick tryst with a resident, or
an attending, she’d slip into a dressing room, don some scrubs, pull out her
fake name tag, and head for the patient rooms. She found the human body
fascinating, and chocked up her activities to research. It was interesting to
her, how a body in a vegetative state would still gasp if its oxygen was
blocked, and how easily it would seize, sometimes never recovering, if a large
enough syringe of air was pumped into an IV line.

Death
fascinated her, and when she really thirsted for a peak experience, she’d turn
off all of the machines that would announce a patient’s impending demise with
unnecessary beeps and squeaks and alarms, so that she could watch the process
of death, uninterrupted. Hospitals weren’t the only places that she’d get her
fix for pain, torture and death, but they were a treasure trove of potential
victims.

She
wouldn’t be idly perusing the selection of candidates tonight, however. There
was vengeance to be had, and she was intent upon exacting it. Perhaps after her
work was done, she’d look for some recreational pain, depending upon how long
her mission took.

It
was just after 8 a.m., so morning rounds would be over, and breakfast would be
served, even for patients who would be going home today, because paperwork
typically didn’t make it up to the various nurses stations until at least ten,
so her best bet would be to pose as a cafeteria worker in order to get up to
the ward, then she could pull out her nurse credentials once inside.

The
stacks of hundred dollar bills that she carried in her bag ensured that the
hospitality worker with whom she traded clothing would be cooperative, and the
information and access key that the delighted young worker bee had provided was
priceless. Jenna was on her way up to the seventh floor in the utility elevator
faster than one could shake a stick. She had a sinister little smile on her
face, knowing that her satisfaction was just around the corner. Her stomach
grumbled, and she opened the metal lid on the tray that she was carrying.
Setting the tray down on the floor, she snagged a fresh, hot cinnamon roll and
devoured it, then replaced the lid and picked up the tray.

When
the elevator ground to a halt, Jenna left the tray inside it, feeling much
better now that she’d had a bit of sugar, and pulled her nursing credentials
out of the pocket of her turquoise scrubs. The doors shushed open, and she
glanced about, making certain that no one would see her getting off of the
service elevator. Following the explicit directions that the food service gal had
given her, she knew which corners to take and could stride through the halls
with confidence.

She
passed an older doctor and dazzled him with her sweetest smile. Usually when
you looked at a doctor like that, they didn’t feel compelled to look down at your
badge to verify your identity. He walked past, but then turned quickly around
to get her attention.

“Excuse
me,” he called, and Jenna stopped dead in her tracks, pasting on another smile
before turning slowly to face him. “Are you new here? I don’t remember meeting
you,” his eyes narrowed.

Time
to turn it up. She blasted him with another blazing smile, heart pounding
furiously. “Yes, just transferred in from Seattle. And you’re Doctor…?”

“Prentiss,
Seymour Prentiss. Neurology,” he replied, still looking at her uncertainly.

“You’re
Doctor Prentiss? Oh my goodness, what an honor! Your work is very impressive,”
she nodded, dipping her head and trying hard to blush as though she was
star-struck.

“Oh?
Well…you’re very kind. Thank you,” he finally cracked a smile. “Listen, Room
716 needs a bath kit, there’s been…an incident. Could you possibly…?”

“Oh,
of course. Say no more, I’ll take care of it right away,” she nodded eagerly.
“It was such a pleasure meeting you,” she said as he turned away and resumed
his former pace, raising a hand in farewell. Sucker.

Eyes
on the prize, she continued on her way, fingering the vial in her pocket that
she had pilfered from the yacht’s medical cabinet. Since the Winstons employed
a full-time doctor onboard, they had a state of the art medical office with all
the drugs that a lone doctor at sea might need to cure whatever ailed the rich
and shameless.

Marilyn
had fallen asleep in the recliner across the room from Tiara’s hospital bed.
She hadn’t meant to, but with her lack of sleep from the night before, she was
exhausted. Knowing that she and her daughter were safely surrounded by locked
gates and security personnel, she allowed herself to drift off in the warm,
dark room, while Tiara snored softly.

Neither
of the sleeping women stirred when a flame-haired woman dressed as a nurse
slipped into the room after flirting heavily with the security staff, and
talking about how she had to check on this patient before she hurried over to
attack the mess that awaited her in 716. Liberally applying Doctor Prentiss’s
name to the conversation with the taser-armed men, she had giggled her way into
Tiara’s room, pulling the door shut behind her.

Jenna
hadn’t counted on Cort’s girlfriend being in the room with her daughter, but,
after observing her breathing for a few minutes, she relaxed, confident that
the old hag would sleep through the entire incident, eventually waking to find
that her precious daughter had passed away in her sleep. She took a syringe out
of her pocket, uncapped it, and plunged the needle into the bottle that she’d
brought with her from the yacht.

Marilyn
was having a terrible dream. A cold wind was blowing in the windows of her
house, bringing death with it, and she couldn’t do anything to stop it. She
woke slowly, swimming up from the dense fog of her dream, and when she saw a
figure standing over Tiara, she thought she was still dreaming. When she rubbed
her eyes and caught a glimpse of fire-red hair, sleep fled and instinct took
over. She recognized Jenna Winston, dressed as a nurse, about to inject
something into Tiara’s IV, and leaped from her recliner, the chair slamming
against the wall.

“Noooooo!”
she roared with all the fury of a lioness protecting her cub, startling the
cool, calculating redhead into dropping the syringe. She turned to flee, but
Marilyn was too fast for her, tackling the younger woman to the floor as Tiara
woke up from a dead sleep and screamed in terror at the scene unfolding in
front of her.

Lights
flipped on and medical and security personnel flooded the room. By the time
that they reached Jenna, however, Marilyn already had her on the ground, face
mashed into the floor, arms behind her back. The petite mother had swiftly and
thoroughly subdued her daughter’s would-be killer, despite being at a size and
age disadvantage.

It
took a couple of security guards to gently disengage the furious mother from
the deranged woman beneath her, tears of rage flowing down her cheeks as she
fought hard to keep from damaging her prisoner. She was too overcome with anger
to do anything but shake, when at last they allowed her to her feet.

“Mom?”
Tiara’s tearful voice reached her ears, snapping her out of her enraged state.
Marilyn went immediately to her daughter’s side, wiping her tears and trying to
calm the pounding of her heart.

“Sweetie,
are you okay?” she asked, stroking the golden strands of Tiara’s hair from her
face.

The
young woman nodded, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

“I
didn’t know you had that in you,” she teased shakily.

“That
makes two of us,” Marilyn laughed, still trembling, then glanced down and saw
the syringe.

“Hey,”
she grabbed a security guard. “She was trying to inject that into my daughter’s
IV,” the once again irate mother stared venomously at the well-restrained
redhead, who merely smirked back at her. A nurse with gloved hands reached into
the front pocket of Jenna’s scrubs smock, and pulled out the vial that she had
used to fill the syringe, showing it to one of the security guards. Another
guard produced plastic evidence bags and carefully collected both the syringe
and the vial.

“Can
I please just go home now?” came Tiara’s plaintive voice from the hospital bed.

“Yes,
honey,” Marilyn answered, defying anyone to disagree with her. “I’m taking you
home.”

“Oh
my, you are a sight for sore eyes,” Marilyn smiled, when Cort walked into
SubLime
Sweets
, wearing a sling, but otherwise looking like the picture of health.

“Likewise,”
he grinned shyly, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry about not being able
to get you in for a visit, but the guys on the force were a little bit hardline
after the assassination attempt,” he shrugged.

“I
completely understand. I’m just glad that you and Tiara are safe and that
little psycho is behind bars where she belongs.”

“I
feel bad for her father – he’s pretty shaken up over the whole thing, but yeah,
I’m with you on that,” he nodded. “How’s Tiara?”

“I’m
awesome!” the young woman herself dashed into the front of the shop from the
kitchen. “Mom, look at this!” she waved an official-looking envelope in front
of Marilyn’s face.

“Okay,
okay,” I’ll look, her mother laughed. “Why don’t you cut us all a big fat piece
of pie while I read whatever it is,” she directed, waving a hand toward the
display case.

“I’m
too jazzed to eat anything, but I’ll fix some for you guys,” Tiara replied,
practically bouncing with excitement, as Marilyn and Cort sat down at a gaily
painted bistro table.

The
young woman set the slices of pie down in front of them, and watched for her
mother’s reaction. Marilyn looked up from the letter and blinked at her.

“This
is a job offer,” she said, dazed.

Tiara
nodded joyfully.

“In
California…” her mother said softly.

“It’s
a great opportunity, Mom,” her daughter replied, pleading with her eyes.

“Yes
it is, honey. I’m proud of you,” she stood and pulled Tiara into a hug, her
tears a mix of pride and pain.

Pulling
back and wiping her eyes, while Bernard watched the interaction, downing his
pie, she asked, “When do they want you to start?”

Her
daughter got quiet. “As soon as possible,” she tried to break the news gently.

“Oh.
My.” Marilyn sank back down into her chair, a hand at her throat, taking it all
in.

“I’ve
already shown the letter to my landlord, he’s agreed to let me out of my lease,
and the company will pay for my move, I just have to schedule it,” her
ever-responsible daughter said. Seeing her mother’s stunned look, she knelt by
her chair.

“It’s
the one, Mom. This is what I studied for, this is what I’ve been waiting for.
You understand that, right?” she asked softly, needing her mother’s approval.

Marilyn
nodded, unable to speak for a moment. “Of course, sweetie. I’m happy for
you…I’m just going to miss you so much,” she admitted, slow tears rolling down
her cheeks.

“I
was thinking about that, actually,” Tiara took a breath. “I’ve put some figures
together, based upon property costs and operating costs out there, and if you
wanted to, I think that you could successfully move
SubLime Sweets
to
California,” she suggested, biting her lip.

Marilyn
was speechless. The thought of Tiara moving away hadn’t really ever occurred to
her, even though she knew that eventually it would happen, but the thought of
picking up stakes and starting over at her age…well that was more than a little
bit overwhelming. Bernard put down his fork, chewing slowly and watching for
her reaction.

“Oh
my,” she said, at a loss for words. “Well, you’ve certainly given me plenty to
think about,” her mother murmured.

“Well,
in the short term, the things that you need to know are what changes are going
to be taking place here, in my absence,” the ever-pragmatic young woman pulled
a sheet of paper out of a folder that she’d brought with her. “I anticipated an
offer coming in for this position, so I planned ahead. Kelcie has been taking
business classes, and has a great feel for what’s going on here in terms of
budget and projected growth, so I’ve promoted her to manager, to take my place.
That means you needed a new baking assistant, so I went through the old
applications from when we hired Kelcie and hired a new assistant, who’ll be
starting to learn the ropes on Monday, so that when I leave, everyone will be
trained and it’ll be a smooth transition. I’ve already started training
Kelcie,” she said, closing the folder.

Once
again, Marilyn was overwhelmed. “I have a new assistant? Who?” she asked,
blinking.

“Tim.”

“Tim??”

“Tim,”
Tiara looked at her mother pointedly. “He’s more than capable, and I’ve tried
his pies – they’re amazing. You two will be a formidable team,” she promised.

Marilyn
stared at her daughter, mouth agape.

“Well,
I know it’s a lot to take in, and I’ve apparently interrupted the detective’s
visit,” Tiara smiled apologetically at Cort. “So, just take a couple of days to
collect your thoughts, and we’ll sit down and talk,” she hugged her mother and
left quickly before she could formulate a response.

Marilyn
looked over at Cort, who reached for her hand.

“For
what it’s worth,” he said, caressing her palm with his thumb. “I’d be much
happier if you didn’t move to California.”

She
stared at him, too overwhelmed to speak.

“But
I’ll support your decision, even if what makes you happy takes you away from
me,” he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

**

Marilyn
leaned her head on Cort’s shoulder and watched as her only daughter embarked
upon her journey to start a new life in California. Her tears flowed freely,
not just because she already missed the sassy blonde, but because she was so
darn proud that her baby had grown into a lovely, accomplished woman who was
now on her way to the job of her dreams.

As usual,
Tiara had been right. Kelcie was doing an amazing job filling her daughter’s
shoes as manager, and the addition of Tim to the kitchen brought both comedic
and culinary relief to the team. The flow of business had not been impacted at
all, and with Tiara’s new marketing plan in place, they’d actually seen an
increase in sales. Life was good for Marilyn, except for the ache of missing
her favorite girl.

“There
she goes,” she said shakily, gazing up at Cort, tears in her eyes.

He
nodded and kissed the tip of her nose. “And here we are,” he smiled down at
her.

“Now
what?” Marilyn asked the question that applied to so many areas of her life at
the moment.

“Who
knows?” he flashed his brilliant dimples and pulled her into his arms.

Copyright 2015 Summer Prescott, all rights reserved.