Murder By Lime: A Key West Culinary Cozy - Book 4 (4 page)

“Kelcie, sweetie…don’t bother to come in today,” Marilyn groaned. “Tiara and I are…under the weather and won’t be able to make it in, so we’re just going to be closed for the day.”

She tapped end on her phone and pulled the covers up under her chin feeling weak and drained. Apparently Tim Eckels had put some sort of laxative in the pie that he had given her. The one piece that she’d had the day before yesterday hadn’t done anything to her, but today, after she and Tiara had both eaten two slices last night, they ended up racing for the bathrooms multiple times. Marilyn had gone upstairs to her room to recover with a glass of water and a box of nasty-tasting pink tablets, and her pale and shaky daughter had chosen to camp out, with Fluffy at her side, in the guest room, due to its proximity to the downstairs bathroom.

Marilyn planned to call Detective Cortland as soon as she felt better, to report what had happened, and felt foolish that she’d trusted the suspicious character enough to have even tried the pie. What if what he used wasn’t a laxative? What if it was poison? The thought made her stomach churn even more, and she moaned, rolling over into the fetal position, hoping that she could just go to sleep and wake up feeling better. She texted Tiara to make sure that she was okay, and when she heard back from her, she set her phone on the bed beside her and dropped into an exhausted sleep.

It was well past noon when Marilyn finally had enough strength to wander downstairs to make some weak tea. She was surprised to find that Tiara was already sitting in the kitchen, slowly munching on a piece of toast, but glad that she was doing better.

“How ya feeling, kiddo?” she asked, kissing the top of her daughter’s head on her way to fill the teakettle.

“Better I guess,” she shrugged, peeling a piece of crust from her toast and popping it into her mouth.

“What’s wrong?” Marilyn sat next to her at the breakfast bar once she’d put the kettle on to boil.

“Drew isn’t going to come see me today,” she complained weakly.

“Do you want him to see you like this?” she teased, with a wan smile.

“Very funny, Mom. He had planned on it, but his car is in the shop.”

“Poor guy, never rains but it pours, huh?” Marilyn shook her head in sympathy.

“So it seems,” Tiara sighed, dropping the remnants of her toast on the saucer in front of her.

“Join me for some tea?”

“Nah, I’m going back to bed,” she slid down from her barstool, picked up Fluffy, and shuffled toward the guest room as her mother watched with concern.

At least she wouldn’t have to pretend to be nice to Drew, all the while heartily disapproving of his relationship with her daughter. Marilyn had been hoping that Tiara’s school-girl crush on her yoga instructor would ebb with time, that she’d find that they really didn’t have much in common, but apparently that wasn’t going to happen. She would never interfere, her daughter was an adult who was capable of making her own choices, but that didn’t mean that she had to feel good about them.

The teakettle whistled, and while her tea steeped, Marilyn got out the Ipad that Tiara had bought for her months ago. Since she had to take it easy today, she might as well use her time productively, by trying to figure out who had robbed her. She had already done enough internet searching to know that her creepy neighbor had a sketchy enough past to be considered a viable suspect, now she was going to search for a bit of background on Carlos Mechago.

She was surprised when quite a few hits came up after she typed his name into the search bar. She couldn’t be certain that it was the same person, of course, but there was a Carlos Mechago whose family was very well connected in Mexico, which would explain the ease with which he secured new importers. This Carlos also had a bit of a past, and as Marilyn dug deeper, the sense of dread that had been building in her gut grew stronger. The Carlos Mechago that she was researching, had been accused of several crimes in his native country – everything from trespassing, to grand theft, to interfering with an election process, and even attempted murder – and had the charges dropped every single time. If this was the same Carlos, he was more well-connected than she thought, and probably wouldn’t think twice about stealing and reselling his products.

Marilyn sat, reading articles about the man whom she thought might be her lime supplier, and lost track of time, only jolted back into reality by an incessant pounding sound that made her head ache. Looking for the source of the sound, she glanced out of her kitchen window and saw the vague shape of Tim Eckels beside his house again, apparently digging another large hole. The pounding noise was him jumping on the back of the shovel blade to make it penetrate the ground and the tree roots below it. She was so confused. Both Carlos and Tim had the motive to steal her limes, and both had seedy enough pasts for the thievery to be feasible, so how on earth was she supposed to figure out who had done it? While she sat pondering, her phone buzzed and she picked it up, seeing Bernard Cortland’s number come up.

“Hi, Bernard. I was planning to call you later,” she answered the phone, leaning her head wearily on her hand.

“Hello, Marilyn. Is your daughter with you right now?” the detective asked without preamble.

“Yes, she’s in the guest room because she doesn’t feel well, why?” she asked, perplexed at his abrupt manner.

“I have a warrant for her arrest, I’ll see you shortly,” he informed her, and the line went dead.

“Wait…wha…?” Marilyn was astounded. There was absolutely no possible reason for an arrest warrant to be issued for her intelligent, educated, hard-working daughter. She sat stunned for a moment, then went to the guest room to break the news.

“There must be some mistake,” she protested, when Bernard came to arrest Tiara. “My daughter is a good girl who’s never been in trouble in her life,” she insisted, receiving nothing but a stone-faced silence from the detective. “She’s sick, you can’t put her in jail when she’s sick,” she grasped at straws.

“Mom,” Tiara spoke up quietly. “We know this has to be a mistake. I’ll just go with Detective Cortland, and I’m sure everything will get straightened out. Stop freaking out, and just wait here until I call you, it’s the only thing that you can do,” she said calmly, knowing that she was innocent, and being naïve enough to believe that it would make a difference.

“What are you even accusing her of?” Marilyn demanded, ready to combat whatever charge he mentioned.

“Tiara, you are accused of possession of cocaine, and will be held additionally under the suspicion of being an accessory to murder,” Bernard said quietly, and proceeded to read her her rights as he led her to the door. 

“Drugs? Murder? This is insanity!” Marilyn screamed as her only child was loaded into the back of Cortland’s unmarked police car

“They said it was an anonymous tip,” Tiara mumbled glumly after Marilyn picked her up from the police station.

“An anonymous tip? Well, isn’t that just convenient,” the worried mother fumed. “Someone set you up and we’re going to get to the bottom of this,” she vowed. “What did they find anyway?”

“A small packet of cocaine and a piece of paper with Pedro’s phone number on it,” her defeated daughter said quietly.

“Why did you have Pedro’s phone number?”

“I didn’t,” the shattered young woman protested. “I’ve never called Pedro in my life. I don’t even know if he speaks English.”

“Who do you know besides Drew that would have his number?” Marilyn wondered.

“I’d bet my last dollar that it was Carlos. He was probably upset that Detective Cortland talked to him because of what I said, and chose to discredit me by doing this,” Tiara speculated bitterly.

“Then I think I’ll just have to have a little conversation with Mr. Mechago,” her mother gritted her teeth.

“No! Mom, don’t. We don’t know what he’s capable of. I’m in enough trouble already, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you,” a tear rolled down her cheek.

“Well, honey, we have to think of something, and if the police are busy chasing after you and Drew when the real killer is right in front of our noses, we’ll have to do some checking around,” she insisted. “Did they arrest Drew too?”

Tiara shook her head. “No, since they found Pedro’s number, along with drugs, in my apartment, I’m the one who’s under suspicion.”

“That just makes me so angry,” Marilyn slapped the steering wheel with both hands. “Maybe since they’re leaving Drew alone, I’ll draft him to help me do some snooping around. Do you know when he gets his new boat?”

“No, I haven’t heard much from him since this all happened, and I’m really not comfortable with you poking into things, Mom. You could get hurt.”

“I cannot sit around and do nothing while my only daughter gets framed,” she replied stubbornly. “If the incompetent fools over at KWPD can’t get their act together, I’ll take matters into my own hands.”

**

Marilyn pulled on her yoga capris and a workout top that was snug enough to stay in place when she bent over or turned upside down for her poses. She hadn’t been to Yoga on the Beach for quite a while, but figured it would provide her with the perfect opening to speak with Drew and enlist his help in her sleuthing efforts. She tossed her oversized mat, water bottle and head band into her beach bag and snuck out of the house, being careful not to wake Tiara, who was sleeping in the guest room. She had wanted to go back to her apartment, but Marilyn had insisted that she stay in the guest room until the ridiculous charges against her had either been disproven or dropped.

Locking the door securely behind her, she saw Tim Eckels, her worrisome neighbor, dashing from the end of her driveway toward his cottage.

“Hey neighbor!” she called out, determined to see what he was up to. Tim halted in his tracks and stood stock still, as though wondering what his next move should be. Marilyn went to the end of her driveway and put her hands on her hips. “What brings you out at this hour?” she said conversationally, from about twenty feet away.

The sweat-soaked man turned slowly to face her. “I’m…I was…I jog,” he said, not quite meeting her gaze.

“You jog in jeans and a polo? That’s rather unorthodox,” she observed, hoping to push him into saying something significant.

“It’s so I don’t chafe. Not everyone has a fit figure like you,” he glared, his comment making Marilyn’s skin crawl.

“Well, it’s great that you’re out here trying,” she said awkwardly. “Have a nice day,” she waved, turning and walking rapidly away. Tim muttered something behind her back that was unintelligible and she pretended that she hadn’t heard.

**

Thankful for the headband that kept the sweat from trickling into her eyes, Marilyn remembered why it had been so long since she’d been to Yoga on the Beach. Her joints crackled and popped with every movement, her muscles refused to elongate into proper stretches the way that they used to, and she was about to drown in the early morning humidity. Her clothing clung to her in a way that had to be most unbecoming, and the ends of her ponytail stuck stubbornly to the back of her neck, but she was determined to make it through the class so that she could talk to Drew afterwards. He’d been avoiding her eyes for the most part, and despite her hellishly improper form, he’d only been by to give her correction once, and moved away immediately after she’d adjusted her pose.

When she finally said “Namaste,” signaling the end of her morning torture, Marilyn made a beeline for Drew, who, as usual was surrounded by a bevy of groupies. She waited patiently, hovering on the outside of the group, until at last, she was the only one left. Following the fit and boyishly handsome yogi while he shook out his mat and rolled it up, she thought she might have to do a handstand on his feet to get his attention.

“Drew, I need to speak with you,” she said finally, when he’d made it clear that he was going to avoid interacting with her if at all possible.

“I’m really kind of busy…” the instructor hedged, glancing at his waterproof diving watch.

“I’m sure you are, but I would also like think that you’d have an interest in helping me clear my daughter’s name,” Marilyn gave him a look.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing that I can do,” he shrugged. I don’t know what Tiara got herself mixed up into, but that Carlos Mechago is one scary dude and I don’t want anything to do with any of this,” the professional beach bum shook his head.

“I’ll just remind you that Tiara wouldn’t be “mixed up” in any of this if it hadn’t been for her association with you, so you might want to be a bit more generous with your time and information,” Marilyn ordered, hands on hips, eyes steely.

“Look, I don’t know anything, okay? All I know is that you don’t mess with Mechago, and your daughter just wouldn’t let it go. She pointed the cops in his direction and now he’s out for revenge. I hope she’s somewhere safe right now. If I were you, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight,” Drew advised, continuing to load his duffel bag.

“And yet you’ve let her out of yours,” Marilyn accused, remarking on his absence of late.

“In case you hadn’t heard, I have enough of my own problems to deal with. Tiara’s young, I think she reads more into things than she should sometimes,” he remarked.

“Unbelievable,” Marilyn shook her head, wanting to address his callous treatment of her daughter’s feelings, but having bigger fish to fry at the moment. “One last thing…do you think Carlos killed Pedro?” she asked, trying hard to keep her tone civil.

Drew stood, itching to get out of there, and finally looked Marilyn directly in the eye. “I think he’s the only one with the means and the motive,” he replied. “And I think that it was really a bogus move that he trashed my boat to do it.”

“My daughter’s life and future might be at risk, and you’re worried about your boat,” Marilyn was astounded. “You are a piece of work.”