Live and Lime Die: A Key West Culinary Cozy - Book 8

by Summer Prescott

  “You insufferable little….”

  “Marilyn?” a familiar male voice called out, sounding puzzled.

  She whirled around, face flushed with fury, to see Cort coming down the stairs toward the galley.

  “Cort? What are you doing here?” she asked, totally thrown off by his presence.

  “I used to do private security for Mr. Winston, so when he came to the island, he looked me up. What are you doing here?” he asked, looking back and forth between the three fuming women.

  “Not her job, clearly,” Jenna remarked nastily, folding her arms.

  “Behave, Jenna,” he warned with a look, then returned his gaze to Marilyn.

  “We delivered pies, and we were just leaving when this little…”

  “Mom,” Tiara interrupted. “Can we just go now, please?”

  “Yes, absolutely we can, sweetie,” her mother promised, glaring at the impudent socialite.

  “Oh no, you most certainly cannot, until that pie is cut and served,” Jenna decreed, hands on hips.

  “They’re not caterers, it’s not their job to do that,” Cort interjected, recognizing the source of the conflict. “You have staff to handle that. Let’s get you back to the party,” he motioned toward the stairs, and she turned reluctantly and allowed him to guide her from the room. At the bottom of the stairs, he turned and mouthed “Sorry” to Marilyn and Tiara, and raised his hand in farewell before trotting up behind Jenna.

  “This delivery did not turn out at all like I had imagined,” Marilyn mused, watching him go.

  “Let’s go home before something even worse happens,” Tiara sighed and trudged toward the stairs.

  Chapter 4

  As soon as the area in front of the galley had been vacated, Samuel Freed slipped into the bustling kitchen and pulled one of the empty pie boxes out of the trash. He noted the name of the bakery from which it had come, SubLime Sweets, and committed to memory the address on the gold foil label that had sealed the box shut. He couldn’t believe that he’d had the chance to find Tiara Hayes again. She’d fled after graduation, and he’d never seen her again. He knew if he could just have a chance to talk to her, that she’d see just how much he’d changed. He had a steady job and made good money, he hardly ever drank anymore, and had managed to stay out of jail ever since the fateful night that the two of them had gotten arrested. He had so much to tell her, so much to make up to her. He would find her, and he would make her understand.

  “Freed, quit daydreaming and get this tray of pie up to the deck,” the chef’s assistant barked from across the room, startling him out of his reverie.

  “Aye,” Sam responded, snapping out of the past, and went to grab the heavy tray. He made his way up to the deck, burdened by the tray of over twenty slices of Marilyn’s luscious Key Lime pie. He set the tray down on a fold out rack and expertly lined up the desserts in a pleasing display on the long, linen-covered dessert table. The party had begun at around nine o’clock this morning, and didn’t look as though it was going to wind down any time soon, which meant he’d be later leaving the boat than he had planned. The staff had bunks onboard, but while in port, if they wasn’t assigned to an overnight shift, Sam and the rest of the serving and housekeeping crew were free to explore the various ports of call, as long as they were in position and ready to serve at their assigned times.

  He had just finished placing the last plate of delicious-looking pie, when he heard a low, feminine voice purr in his ear.

  “Hey Mr. Freed…I believe I might be in need of turn-down service this evening,” Jenna’s breath warmed his neck.

  Looking around to make certain that he wouldn’t be overheard, he replied. “I’m sorry, I can’t tonight. I’m going ashore to meet with an old friend,” he said, pretending to straighten the table cloth.

  “Perfect,” she smiled like a cat playing with a mouse. “I’ll come along. I’m so done with this boring scene,” she looked about, curling her lip in displeasure.

  “You can’t,” he blurted. She folded her arms and arched a brow. “What I mean is, he’s a drinking buddy, and things tend to get crazy and end up gross when we’re together. We drink too much, eat too much, sing too loud, you know…guy stuff,” he amended, giving her a conciliatory smile.

  “Eww…” she grimaced.

  “Exactly,” Sam nodded. “It wouldn’t be your scene at all.”

  “Fine,” she sighed. “Go do your guy thing, but don’t even think about coming to my room when you come back drunk and sloppy,” she pouted.

  “I would never disrespect you like that,” he whispered, knowing what she needed and expected from him. “You’re a goddess. Next time, okay?”

  “Fine,” she turned her head, flipping him in the face with a mass of auburn curls, and flouncing away.

  **

  The shop was closed by the time that Sam was finally able to leave the boat. Little did he know, they’d closed early because of the delivery at the yacht club. He made note of the hours of operation, but saw that he’d have to be back onboard before it opened. Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out what to do. His appearance had changed dramatically when he’d left the ship. His hair, which had been tucked up inside his steward’s cap, flowed over his shoulders in black, shiny waves, and the tattoos that had been hidden beneath long sleeves, stood out prominently, not hidden at all by the workout tank that stretched across his muscular body.

  He knew it was a long shot, because people tended to guard their personal information, but he did a search on his phone under Hayes, looking for an address. He didn’t see a listing for Tiara, but he found one for Marilyn, and, knowing how close mother and daughter were, hoped that perhaps his lady love could be found there. Using GPS, he set out for Marilyn’s house, turning off the phone and silencing it when he got close.

  Finding good cover in some trees between Marilyn’s house and her next door neighbor’s, he peered into the darkness, trying to see if Tiara was inside. The plantation shutters in the living room were closed, but he thought he saw movement in the kitchen, and, crouching low, he moved up the tree line to get a better look. He crept closer and closer, then froze when he heard a twig snap behind him. There was a stinging sensation in his neck, a gloved hand covered his nose and mouth, and the world faded to black.

  **

  Samuel Freed awoke lying in the sand near some trash cans and a homeless person, not knowing where he was or how he had gotten there. His head throbbed with pain, and, looking at his watch, he determined that he had precisely 35 minutes to be in place and serving on the yacht. Leaping to his feet, he turned on his GPS, nearly passing out from the waves of nausea that gripped him. He lurched in the direction of the yacht club, swallowing the bile that rose in the back of his throat. He couldn’t show Tiara how much he had changed if he lost his job.

  Chapter 5

  “That was quite the fine company you were keeping the other night,” Marilyn remarked, during drinks with Cort at an upscale bar. She’d worn a dress that was a bit more daring than her norm, an above-the-knee cocktail slip that clung perfectly in all the right places. She had known where they were going and didn’t want to feel like a country bumpkin among the Key West social set. Having accessorized with care and restraint, she was a picture of classic beauty, and the appreciative looks that she’d been receiving from the handsome detective all night served to underscore the fact that she’d chosen well.

  “Henry Winston is a great guy,” he nodded. “It was good to see him again.”

  “His daughter seemed more than comfortable with you,” she observed, trying to keep her tone from being overtly catty. Cort looked at her closely, a slight smile playing about his lips. He had the uncanny ability to see right through her carefully contrived facades at times.

  “His daughter is a piece of work,” he replied, taking a sip of his extra dirty martini. The man loved olives, so it was a natural choice that felt more like a snack than a drink.

  “Is there a
…past with her?” Marilyn’s curiosity was killing her, so she stopped being cagey and just asked outright.

  “With me? No,” the detective shook his head. “Not that she didn’t try. Men are mere conquests for her. She tries to conquer and control every male that she encounters, then discards them when she’s bored. No, when I said that I didn’t date after my wife died…I definitely would not have engaged in the type of arrangement that Jenna Winston would have liked. Besides, she’s practically young enough to be my daughter.”

  “Does she have Daddy issues?” Marilyn was relieved to hear that Cort had the good sense to stay away from the vile creature that she’d met onboard.

  “Maybe. Henry is a great guy, but I know that most of his time is spent traveling, and that’s always been the case,” he shrugged. “Meeting her really bothered you, didn’t it?” he asked, perceptive as always.

  “Did you see the way that she treated us?” she raised her eyebrows, indignant all over again, just remembering the encounter.

  “Yeah, unfortunately, that’s not unusual. Any woman that she perceives to be a threat, she tends to treat really poorly, that’s always been the case. You should have seen the number of nannies that she went through in middle school,” he shook his head, signaling the waiter for another round of drinks.

  “A threat?” Marilyn was puzzled. “Why would either of us be a threat to her? Because we’re intelligent enough to best her in a game of snappy comebacks?”

  Cort chuckled. “Well, you two certainly can hold your own in that regard, but, think about it – you and Tiara are both incredibly attractive, accomplished, and independent. Those are things that she can’t even fathom. Yes, she has a sort of hard-polished refinement, but she’s never had to do anything for herself. She’s been fussed with, catered to and cossetted her entire life, and I can’t help but think that she must envy powerful women like you and your daughter,” he smiled at her in a way that made her blush all the way down to her toes.

  Pulling a Tiara maneuver, she made a joke to lighten the intensity of the moment. “Oh sure, she lives on a yacht for part of the year when she’s not flitting about the globe on a jet, but she envies two women who run a pie shop,” she teased, still blushing. Cort took the hint and changed the subject, still smiling that gentle smile.

  “Who could blame her?” he raised his glass for a toast, and Marilyn had no sooner clinked her glass against his when a nasal feminine voice intruded upon their evening.

  “Well, well, well, isn’t this cozy?” the subject of their well-timed discussion drawled, with a slight slur.

  “Good evening, Jenna,” Cort said perfunctorily, the smile disappearing from his face.

  “Good evening yourself, handsome,” she gazed at the detective, eyes smoky. Acknowledging Marilyn for the first time, she looked over and reacted with disbelief. “You brought the pie lady here?”

  “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he asked, quickly losing patience with the tipsy socialite. Marilyn merely looked on, working very hard to keep a neutral expression on her face while anger churned in her midsection.

  “Look, I saw you over here and I thought you could help me,” she pouted. “You always used to help me,” she said, reaching out to trail her fingers over his broad shoulder.

  Brushing her hand away impatiently, as Marilyn took a rather large swig of her cocktail, Cort frowned at Jenna. “What do you need…and make it quick, I’d like to get back to my date,” he directed, jaw set.

  “Fine. You don’t have to be so rude,” she sniffed, ironically. “One of our stewards has been acting strangely, and he’s disappeared tonight. I was hoping that you might be able to look into it.” She dug in her purse for a second and pulled out a photo. “This is him. His name is Samuel Freed,” she handed him the photo. Cort’s eyes met Marilyn’s alarmed ones and she took another gulp of her drink to cover her reaction.

  “Wow, slow down there, honey,” Jenna sneered at her, receiving daggers in return.

  “I’ll see what I can do. Have a good night,” the detective said, giving her a pointed look.

  “Wow…dismissed? That’s it? Nice, Cortland, real nice,” she shook her head, picked up his martini, gulped it down and cringed. “Ugh, I forgot…you like it dirty,” she leered, with a sultry grin, before turning slowly and sashaying out.

  As soon as she was out of earshot, Marilyn leaned forward. “Do you think he’s looking for Tiara?” she half-whispered, eyes wide.

  “I would think that it’s a distinct possibility,” he nodded grimly. “Call her, let her know what’s going on, and I’ll let my guys know to be on the lookout,” he said, reaching for his phone and heading outside for privacy.

  Chapter 6

  Marilyn was in the office, going over supply lists, Kelcie was in the kitchen, preparing a large batch of Key Lime filling that they planned to use for pies, tarts and filled strawberries, and Tiara was manning the front counter. Business was slow at the moment, because they were only half an hour away from closing, so Tiara was surprised when she heard the bell over the front door jangle. Her heart pounded in her chest when she saw Samuel Freed saunter in. His hair was cropped short and looked like someone had taken a chain saw to it, and he was proudly displaying his tattoos by wearing a minimal tank top.

  “What are you doing here, Sam?” she asked quietly, not wanting her mother to know that there was a hoodlum in her shop.

  “I came to see you, baby,” he smiled that crooked smile that once upon a time had melted her heart.

  “Don’t you dare call me “baby,” she ordered, scared and furious at the same time. “I don’t want you to be here, you need to leave,” she said as he casually approached the counter. If she had known about his spotty past when she met him, she’d never have agreed to go out on a date with him in the first place, despite the fact that his bad-boy good looks made her heart skip a beat.

  The muscles in his jaw flexed, indicating his frustration with her response, and his eyes had the same intoxicating dark fire that she remembered, but he seemed somehow…different. Softer maybe.

  “Look, Tiara…I’m sorry that I had to bother you at work, but I didn’t know how else to find you. When I saw you on the yacht, something…stirred inside me. I looked for you after you left without even bothering to say goodbye…” he glanced at her with hurt accusation.

  “You were in jail,” she replied dryly, determined not to let him get to her.

  “I know, and I’m sorry about that too,” he sighed. “This isn’t the place for this conversation…can you meet me later? Just to talk, I promise,” he held up his hands innocently. “I have a lot of explaining to do.”

  Tiara shook her head. “No, you don’t. You don’t owe me any kind of an explanation. Things are over between us – none of the whys and hows matter.”

  “They matter to me,” he said softly, his eyes pained. “Please, just let me talk to you for a little while, and afterwards, if you still want me to leave, I’ll go away forever. Please?”

  He’d never come even close to this level of humility, and it threw Tiara off.

  She hesitated, torn, but finally agreed. “Fine. You can meet me at my mom’s house tonight around eight,” she sighed, wondering if she was making a huge mistake. Her track record for being able to resist Sam’s charms was less than stellar.

  “Uh…will she be okay with me being there?” he looked doubtful.

  “Probably not, but it doesn’t matter, she has a date tonight, so she won’t be there.” Tiara missed the calculating smile that briefly flashed across Sam’s face at that revelation.

  “Cool, I’ll see you at eight, then,” he nodded, hands in the pockets of his skin-tight black jeans.

  She nodded and watched him leave, not even realizing that he never asked for her mother’s address.

  Chapter 7

  Tiara finished out her work day incredibly distracted, dropping things, staring into space and rehearsing what she was going to say to her former boyfriend. The only thing
that had really bothered her about him was his temper and seeming inability to control it. Whenever they went out, there was a pretty good chance that he’d get into an argument, sometimes escalating it to physical contact, particularly if someone had dared to compliment her. The last argument had resulted in jail time for him and community service for her, when she’d been forced to defend herself by breaking a beer bottle over the head of a young man who’d tried to get handsy with her. She hadn’t spoken to Sam since that night, and figured that once she graduated and left school, she’d never have to see him again, yet here he was.

  “Are you okay, honey?” her mother’s voice intruded into her thoughts, making her jump a bit.

  “Oh! Yeah, I’m fine, just tired,” Tiara shrugged. “Do you mind if I have dinner with you before your date tonight?” she asked, sounding young and vulnerable.

  “Of course not, that would be wonderful,” Marilyn agreed enthusiastically, wondering at her daughter’s strange mood. “Should we order Thai?”

  Tiara nodded. “And when you leave, can I just hang out and watch a movie?”

  “You know you’re always welcome to hang out,” her mother looked at her closely. “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

  Hating the deception, she shook her head and forced a smile. “Nope, I’m fine. I just need to chill for a bit.”

  **

  Marilyn left for her date around seven, and Tiara couldn’t help but remark upon how fantastic she looked.

  “Thanks,” her mother smiled. “Do you think it’s too much?” she asked, self-conscious.

  “For where he’s taking you? Not at all. You’ll fit right in with the society set,” she teased.

  She saw her mother to the door and headed to the bathroom to touch up her hair and makeup, wondering why she even bothered. She’d made up her mind to hear Sam out and send him on his way, never weakening in her resolve, but knew full well that that was far easier said than done. To calm her nerves a bit, she poured a small glass of Pinot Grigio and took it out on the back patio, parking herself on a lounger.