“Ms. Hayes,” Kelcie said tentatively, hovering in the doorway. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt, but Detective Cortland is here to see you.” Marilyn and Tiara gazed at each other with apprehension.
“Here we go,” her daughter exhaled.
“Maybe it’s good news,” her mother replied, trying to be optimistic, but the look on Kelcie’s face didn’t bode well.
Chapter 12
“Hi Bernard, would you like some pie?” Marilyn asked the grim-faced detective.
“No, thanks. I’m here on business, I’m afraid. Is there somewhere that we can talk?” he asked, his face and tone giving nothing away.
“Sure,” she nodded. “Follow me,” she invited, heading back to her office. Once inside, she shut the door, settling into her leather executive chair and indicating a club chair for the detective.
“I’m glad you dropped by. Tiara and I found out some things that may be of interest in the murder of my ex-husband’s client,” she began, but Bernard held up a hand to stop her.
“We’ll get to that in a bit,” he said, somewhat brusquely. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
“Oh?” Marilyn was nonplussed. “Okay then, what’s going on?”
“Are you acquainted with a woman named Elizabeth Melman?” he asked, taking out his notebook.
“Oh come on, Detective,” Marilyn made a face. “I know that you do your homework better than that. You know as well as I do that I’m involved in a lawsuit with Litigation Lizzie,” she scoffed. “Why do you ask?”
“Because she was found murdered this morning,” Bernard dropped a bombshell.
“What?” Marilyn was shocked. “But I just saw her this morning!” she exclaimed, realizing after the fact how bad that must make her sound.
“Did you?” his hawk-like eyes nailed her to the chair. “How and when did you have occasion to see Ms. Melman this morning?” he asked, eyes narrowed.
Marilyn related her surveillance activities and showed him the video, both of the bee incident, and the hanging up of the laundry.
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth when I approached you in her neighborhood last week?” he asked.
“Because spying on people is illegal, isn’t it? And anyway, I wasn’t hurting anything, I was just sitting in my car,” she shrugged, trying desperately to rationalize and justify.
“I’d say that causing two people to be attacked by a hive of agitated bees constitutes assault, at the very least,” he pointed out, drilling her with his gaze.
“Okay, fine. I admit, that certainly wasn’t my best moment, but that’s been the extent of my involvement with Litigation Lizzie since I received the notice of the lawsuit. Her rude, nasty nephew did come into the store and say some vile things though.”
“What did he say?” the detective inquired, raising an eyebrow.
“He said that my shop was a dump, and that his aunt’s accident was caused because I didn’t maintain it well, things like that. He was quite ugly about it, so I told him to leave and never come back.”
“Did he?”
“Did he what?” Marilyn asked, confused.
“Did he leave and then not come back?” Cortland clarified.
“Oh! Yes, yes he did,” she nodded.
“Did you see him at any point after that interaction?”
“Only when they went to the park.”
“I see. And how long ago did he come into the store and say rude things to you?”
“Sometime last week, I don’t remember which day exactly,” Marilyn replied, frowning.
“Did anyone witness the interaction?” Bernard asked.
“No, but Trudy, from the diner, came in just as he was leaving. She’s the one who told me about what Lizzie does to local business owners.”
The detective asked a few more questions, then Marilyn told him about what she and Tiara had discovered concerning Daniel and Brad.
Cortland nodded. “I looked into Daniel’s business transactions as well, and it seems that he’s handled more than his share of shady transactions. Some of his “clients” are folks with whom he shouldn’t be involved. I’m still looking into it, but the insight that you and your daughter have provided is most appreciated,” he gave her a brief, professional smile.
“I hope it helps…in one way or another,” Marilyn said, rather wistfully.
“I’ll check back with you if I need clarification on anything,” the detective replied, snapping his notebook shut and standing to go.
“I’ll walk you out,” she said, feeling oddly drained and defeated.
Chapter 13
Marilyn was restless and melancholy, wandering around her quiet little house with Fluffy following at her heels, mewing her support. Unable to focus or concentrate on even accomplishing something as simple as unloading the dishwasher, she decided to go for a walk, hoping that the fresh ocean breeze would soothe her troubled spirit. Stuffing her license and credit card into the front pocket of her capris in case she might want to stop off in one of the local bars for a drink, she stepped out into the balmy night, dejected and alone.
Heading toward the beach, her refuge in times of trouble, she strolled slowly, taking comfort in the soft breeze sighing through the palms, and the faint scent of tropical flowers. A small lizard skittered across her path and she slowed so as not to disturb its progress. Yet, even in the tranquility of a perfect Key West night, she couldn’t find peace from the thoughts that tormented her with the relentless circles that they traveled in her brain. She wondered if her ex-husband might actually be a murderer, and if he was, how it would impact her beloved Tiara. There had been so many strange occurrences in Marilyn’s life since she opened her own business in Key West, that it made her question whether the universe might be trying to tell her something. There had been so much tragedy and so much pain, and she’d been on the fringes of it all. Maybe she was cursed. Maybe everyone would be better off if she just disappeared.
Making a conscious effort to dismiss that particular “pity party” train of thought, Marilyn gave herself a mental shake and tried to focus on the positives in her life. Business was going well, she and Tiara had made amends and were fine with each other, after their initial tiff over Daniel’s possible guilt, and she had her health, her home, and a measure of financial security for the first time in her single adult life. So why on earth couldn’t she shake her despondency? She’d always told her daughter that happiness was a choice that was made every day, yet she couldn’t seem to stick to her own advice.
A faint sound behind her broke Marilyn’s train of thought, and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Taking her hand and smoothing them down, she turned slowly, expecting to see someone closing in on her. She stood for a moment, surveying the neighborhood, seeing nothing but neatly trimmed lawns adorned with swaying palms, dangerous-looking palmettos, and ornamental grasses of every stripe, fluttering gently in the breeze.
“I’m just really rattled tonight,” she said softly, turning to resume her walk. “It was probably a squirrel or something.”
A quick movement on her left made her heart leap to her throat and she sucked in a harsh gasp of air as a fat orange cat shot out in front of her and crossed the street, disappearing under a parked car.
“Well, I guess that answers that question,” she smiled faintly with relief and chagrin, her heart still thumping madly.
She turned right at the corner, headed for the beach access, and noted that there were several streetlamps that were out of commission. Frowning, she switched the flashlight app on her phone on, dimmed it a couple of notches, and pointed it at the ground to light her path. It was more than unusual to see that type of neglect on an island that took tremendous pride in the serene beauty of its businesses, beaches and neighborhoods. She heard another sound, and whirled around, her flashlight revealing the lurking presence of Melvin Bland, Litigation Lizzie’s nephew, about six feet behind her and closing fast.
“What do you want?” she d
emanded, instantly on guard, and wishing that she’d thought to bring her pepper spray keychain.
“Thought you’d get away with it, didn’t you?” he sneered, coming closer as Marilyn unconsciously backed away, her flashlight shining in his eyes.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you’d better just leave right now,” she ordered, with far more confidence than she felt.
“Do you actually think that you’re in control of this situation?” he asked with a sinister chuckle. “It seems to me that I have the upper hand here…how does that feel?” Melvin stepped closer, his yellow teeth evident in his tight grin.
Marilyn could smell alcohol on his breath, and her heart pounded so hard that she was certain he could hear it. Her scalp tingled with fear, and she continued to back away slowly, her knees shaking. In the distance, a dog barked, and she hoped against hope that its owner might look out of their window and intervene, but so far, the only other sound in the night was the rasp of his breathing as he advanced toward her. Security lights flipped on in a yard that they passed, and both of them flinched when a figure popped out between two clumps of sea grasses. Marilyn had never been so glad to see Tim Eckels in her entire life.
“Control is often an illusion,” the former mortician said cryptically, his coke-bottle gaze fixed upon Melvin Bland.
“What’s it to you, Lurch?” Melvin challenged nastily.
Tim pushed his weighty glasses up his nose and stared at him, one eye twitching slightly. “Alcohol can make you feel safe when you really aren’t,” he cocked his head to the side, blinking rapidly.
“Is that a threat?” Melvin’s beady eyes narrowed, as though he were sizing up his strange opponent.
“Merely a factual observation,” Tim replied mildly.
Marilyn decided it was time to break in. “Look, Mr. Bland, I don’t know what you’re doing out here, and I really don’t care, but you need to go away and leave me alone,” she commanded, feeling much better, but still not out of the woods, because of her neighbor’s presence.
“Don’t you even think about telling me what to do,” Melvin hissed, stepping toward her.
Tim moved faster than Marilyn had ever seen him do, and inserted himself firmly between her and the aggressor, facing Melvin.
“Go home please, Marilyn,” he said calmly, never taking his eyes off of Melvin Bland.
Thankful for his intervention, but now worried about her neighbor, Marilyn took off for home at a fast trot, dialing Bernard’s number as she went.
Chapter 14
Marilyn went next door with a freshly made Key Lime pie, and knocked on the mahogany carved door tentatively. Tim opened it immediately, as though he’d been standing on the other side of it, watching her approach. When she’d asked Detective Cortland this morning about what had happened between the two men after she left, he’d said that Melvin Bland denied ever having left his aunt’s house, and Tim had given some obscure statement about the nature of fairness in the universe.
“Hello,” she said, trying out a smile when he opened the door. “I just wanted to thank you for helping me last night,” she offered up the pie.
He looked at it without interest and then looked back at Marilyn. “He was at your house. He followed you. I followed him. After you left, he tried to go to your shop. I had to…have a discussion with him again,” he blinked in his owlish way.
“He tried to go to my shop last night? Why would he do that?” she asked, not expecting an answer.
“Why isn’t important,” Tim muttered, staring at the pie.
Marilyn nodded, accustomed to her neighbor’s strange, stilted remarks. “Right. Why he went doesn’t matter, it’s the fact that he went that’s significant,” she agreed, thinking.
“My grandmother’s was better,” he murmured, still fixated on the pie.
“I’m sure it was, Tim,” she sighed, realizing that any helpful conversation was over. “Do you want it anyway?” she asked.
Saying nothing, he reached out, took the pie, and disappeared inside, closing the door.
As she crossed the grass and stepped onto her own driveway, Marilyn’s cell phone rang and she saw Tiara’s photo on her screen.
“Hey sweetie,” she answered. “What’s up?”
There was a moment of hesitation, and Marilyn heard shouting and the crash of dishes in the background. “Tiara!” she said, alarmed. “What’s going on?”
“Mom…I think you’d better get down to the store as soon as you can,” she said hurriedly, and the connection was broken.
When Marilyn drove around the corner of the block on which her shop was located, she saw two patrol cars and Bernard’s unmarked unit out front. Pulling in directly behind them, she practically leaped from her car and ran for the front door. She opened it and saw utter chaos in front of her – pies, cookies, tarts and pastries were strewn, smashed and smeared from one end of the shop to the other, tables and chairs had been overturned, and two of the largest display cases had been shattered. A bleeding Melvin Bland stood on top of the front counter, brandishing a plate-sized shard of glass, while officers stood encircling him, with Bernard directly in front.
“YOU!” he screamed, pointing the glass at Marilyn when she came in. “You killed my Auntie Liz!” he cried, his face twisted in a deranged parody of grief.
Bernard turned to face Marilyn, while still keeping a peripheral eye on the madman in front of him.
“I did nothing of the sort,” she retorted, furious at the havoc that he’d wreaked in her cozy little shop.
“Yes, you did!” Melvin stomped his foot on the counter for emphasis. “First she hurt herself in your dumpy store and then you killed her instead of paying her the money that she deserved, but you’re not going to get away with it,” he seethed, shaking the glass at her. “I’m going to make sure that you pay every penny that she should’ve gotten, you witch!” he screamed, red-faced, spittle flying from his mouth.
“You need to leave and let us handle this,” Bernard counseled quietly.
“Where is Tiara?” Marilyn asked, worried for her daughter’s safety. “Are she and Kelcie safe?”
The detective nodded. “Your daughter and assistant locked themselves in the office and called us when he came in and started tearing things up. Please, if you’d like to check on them, go in the back way, I have officers back there, but I really need you to leave this area right now,” he insisted, glancing back and forth between Marilyn and Melvin.
Suddenly, the front counter snapped with a resounding crack that sounded like lightning striking a mighty oak, and the entire thing collapsed into a heap with Melvin in the middle of it. The officers who had been standing behind the ranting man, used the opportunity to seize him, making sure to grab his wrist, taking away the effectiveness of the glass that he’d intended to use as a weapon. Marilyn dashed around the melee, heading for the office to check on Tiara and Kelcie.
“Girls? It’s okay, the police have him in custody,” she called through the door, then heard a click as Tiara unlocked it and let her in. Sharing a group hug with the girls, Marilyn’s thin veil of toughness crumbled and she burst into tears.
“Mom, it’s okay,” Tiara assured her, leading her to the desk chair. “We’re not hurt, we just kind of freaked out and wanted to get away from that dude – he seems a little crazy.” Kelcie nodded her agreement, both of them looking at her with concern.
“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that everything is going wrong, and now there’s this big mess and we might lose this business, and I’m just so tired of dealing with drama,” she sobbed, feeling like an idiot.
“I’m going to go get her some water,” Kelcie mouthed to Tiara over her mother’s head, and slipped out the door, returning in short order with a glass of ice water.
“Thank you,” Marilyn sniffled, leaning her head on her hand.
“What was his problem, anyway?” Tiara frowned.
“He thinks that I killed his aunt,” her mother replied, shaking
her head.
Chapter 15
Marilyn had shown her insurance agent the mess in the shop, then she and the girls cleaned up all of the sticky goo that seemed to fill every nook, cranny and corner. Two of the four display cases would have to be replaced rather than repaired, she would need to have a new front counter built, her cash register and computer had been broken beyond repair, and every contractor in town seemed to be previously committed for months. She couldn’t rebuild things herself, and was at a loss as to how she should proceed. The insurance company would cover the costs to return the shop to its former state, and then sue Melvin Bland on her behalf, but all the funding in the world amounted to exactly nothing if she couldn’t find a contractor willing to do the work.
Taking the last couple of black plastic trash bags out to the dumpster behind the building, Marilyn saw an ancient brick-red pickup truck pull into a parking space near her back door. Understandably paranoid, she set her bags down and stood, hands on hips, waiting to see who would emerge from the vehicle.
“Hey there, pie lady!” Captain Bob called out as he stepped carefully down from the truck.
“Hello,” she replied, relieved to see a friendly face. “What are you doing in this neck of the woods?”
“I heard that you’d run into some trouble, so I came to see if I could lend a hand,” he smiled affably, reaching for the trash bags and tossing them in the dumpster as though they weighed no more than a feather.
“Well, that’s very kind of you,” Marilyn grinned back. “How did you happen to hear about our…issues?”
“You know how it is…small island and all,” he shrugged. “How bad was it?”
“Come on in, I’ll show you what’s left of my shop,” she made a face.
Once inside, Captain Bob looked around with a keen eye, taking in all of the details that Marilyn pointed out, shaking his head and clucking his disapproval.
A Deadly Slice of Lime: A Key West Culinary Cozy - Book 6 Page 5
