Marilyn tried to mentally recreate the scene, just as it had happened. She closed her eyes as her daughter talked.
“He said I was a genius…he loved the cream puffs, which makes sense, they are really good, but that hardly makes me a genius,” she said softly, sadly. Shaking her head as though to clear it, she continued. “I put together another full pie, four cream puffs on the sides, and four stuffed strawberries on top of the pie.”
Marilyn opened her eyes. “Okay, which strawberries did you choose? The ones closest to you? Did you take them all in order?” her brow furrowed.
“Yes, I took them in order. They were the strawberries in the row right behind the ones that I put on the two slices earlier,” Tiara nodded, looking her mother right in the eye.
“And you’re sure they were from the same batch that you’d prepared?”
“I’m absolutely sure, it had been there the whole time, I would have noticed if an entire tray had been moved.”
“Alright,” Marilyn sighed trying to pull the vision back into focus. “You put four strawberries on top.”
“Fergus took one and ate it. He seemed to enjoy it…it obviously didn’t taste bad or weird. I put another in his box to replace the one that he had eaten, and rang him up.”
Tiara looked up to make sure her mother was still following. “Then I went back to Drew and the blonde woman screamed.”
“What did she say when she screamed?” Marilyn asked.
Tiara shook her head, frustrated. “I don’t really remember. I just remember the sound of her voice and the look on her face.”
“What do you mean?” her mother probed.
The young woman took a breath, letting it out in a sigh. “Her voice was…hysterical. Her face was completely white and honestly, I thought something worse would be there when I turned around.”
“So he didn’t look that bad?” Marilyn tilted her head to the side.
“Oh no, he definitely did,” Tiara said. “It’s just…I mean he was obviously having some kind of an attack, but he was still alive…I didn’t just assume that he was about to die. But, then I’ve never seen anyone die,” her voice trailed off.
Marilyn was quiet, leaning over to kiss her daughter’s still-damp hair. She’d been through a lot the last couple of days, it was clearly time to let the stressed out young woman rest. Tucking her into bed for a much needed nap, she sat at Tiara’s bedside, stroking her hair until her breathing became slow and even, indicating that sleep had claimed her at last. Gazing down at her like this, it was impossible to believe that this young innocent face had instigated a murder. She knew in her heart that her daughter would never do such a thing, now she had to prove it.
Marilyn went back out to the living room, noting that everything was vaguely out of place. The police hadn’t created a mess like she’d imagined - everything had been put back, but nothing was quite as it should be. Sighing, she poured herself a glass of wine, and sat down on the sofa with her notes.
Grabbing her laptop, she started by seeking out information on every person who had been present when Fergus was poisoned. Everyone has a least somewhat of an internet footprint – addresses, previous addresses, work accomplishments, marriage licenses, etc… Living in an age of easy-access information made it much less difficult to look into the details of people’s lives.
She searched the names methodically, and finally happened upon something that made her heart pound and her hands shake. She tried to call Bernard Cortland, with whom she had begun to feel an inexplicable kinship, as if they were in this mess together, but was sent straight to voicemail. Undoubtedly, the hardworking detective was asleep after having gone two days without rest. Marilyn left a message then headed for her shop.
She felt so much adrenaline flowing through her veins that she broke into a light jog for the entire first mile, but ultimately ran out of steam, much to her consternation, and resorted to a fast walk. Adrenaline might enable some folks to lift heavy trucks off of others who were in distress, but it apparently didn’t give her enough stamina to run all the way to her shop. She chastised herself for not taking full advantage of her gym membership.
Reaching her street she slowed abruptly. The crime scene tape was still up and there was a bored-looking officer stationed out front. Marilyn retraced her steps before the uniformed policeman could see her, then slipped into the alley behind her shop. Not seeing anyone, she crept slowly against the brightly painted back wall, all the way to a delivery door that she rarely used.
Cursing to herself, Marilyn saw the lock on the closure that required the user to line up a series of letters and numbers in order to release it. She’d put it on so long ago that she couldn’t remember which series of numbers and letters she might have used. She quickly began a mental review of her list of usual passwords to see if anything like one of them might fit.
Remembering her state of mind at the time that she’d purchased the lock, she took a chance and set the numbers and letters to “2 smart 4 U,” pulling down firmly on the hasp. The lock clicked open with an audible metallic clonk, and she glanced furtively about, making sure that no one had heard. Marilyn quietly crept into her own store like a thief in the night, thankful that she knew how to navigate the space in the dark. She made her way to the walk-in freezer, opened it just far enough to accommodate her slim frame, but hopefully not far enough that the light from it would catch the attention of the officer outside, and slipped in. A blast of frigid air chilled her to the bone. The inside light clicked off when she pulled the door almost closed behind her, leaving it open just a crack so that she didn’t get locked inside. The flashlight app on her phone illuminated the inside of the freezer just enough, showing shelves that were neatly stacked with the ingredients necessary for making her mouthwatering treats.
Marilyn looked around, taking a quick inventory. She fixed her gaze on the strawberries, for a moment, brow furrowed. She removed several boxes, peering into them intently, then put them back. She then turned to the shelves which held her large containers of condensed milk, sour cream, and butter. She perused the containers thoughtfully, her fingers trailing along them as she puzzled and pondered, shivering in the cold. She picked up the most recently used container of sour cream and lifted the lid. It took just one sniff for Marilyn to determine that this carton contained key lime filling, not sour cream…and she would bet anything that that filling was poisoned.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when the door to the walk-in opened, and a strange sense of foreboding shook her when she saw her newest employee step toward her.
“Hi Marilyn,” Susan said quietly, with a strange look on her face. “I’m sorry about this, I really am.”
“Sorry about what?” Marilyn’s heart was beating so fast she thought it might burst. The cold was seeping into her bones and she felt the tiny interior of the freezer closing in around her like an icy cave.
Somehow knowing that her life depended upon how she handled the next few minutes of this interaction, she smiled sadly and spoke in a low, comforting voice, trying hard to keep her body from giving in to fits of uncontrollable shivering.
“I know what happened Susan…I would be upset too. I can’t even imagine how difficult things have been for you…” she began, only to be abruptly interrupted.
“Which is why I need that,” she demanded, extending her hand for the container of filling.
“Why don’t we step outside,” Marilyn suggested, trying hard not to panic. “We can talk about what happened, we can talk about Wyatt—”
“—don’t say his name,” Susan hissed, furious. “Don’t act like you knew him. You didn’t. You have your family so you couldn’t possibly understand,” the enraged woman snarled.
She reached for the container but Marilyn stepped back, bumping into the strawberry shelf.
“Please, Susan, let’s talk outside,” she pleaded. It felt as though Susan must have turned the temperature down before she opened the door, and if she had…that could only mea
n one thing.
“You can’t do this, Susan, my daughter is innocent, and you have let the police know that. If you don’t, you’ll be doing the same thing to me that Fergus did to you. You’ll be taking away the person that I love most in this world…You’ll be just like Fergus Susan, only you’ll be doing it on purpose. Please…for Wyatt,” Marilyn said quietly, remembering in vivid detail the story that she’d seen on the internet earlier.
Tears welled in the unbalanced woman’s eyes. “Stop saying his name,” she screamed, spittle flying as she became even more unhinged.
“You loved Wyatt, and I love my daughter,” Marilyn persisted, her teeth chattering. She had to get out of the freezer soon, she was so cold that it was beginning to affect her ability to think.
“Stop!” Susan lunged, hitting Marilyn with the full force of her weight. Marilyn slammed into a shelving unit, her head knocking into the edge of the shelf as her feet slid out from under her. The deranged woman ran for the door and slammed it behind her as Marilyn stumbled, trying to get to her feet. She launched herself at the door, trying desperately to open it from the inside. She heard the bolt click in to place, her body wracked with pain and uncontrollable shivering. She forced herself to focus, despite the numbing cold that seemed to be overtaking her. There had to be a way to get out, a safety panel or an emergency system.
She felt along the cold edges of the door and felt nothing but the searing pain jolting through her fingertips. Tucking her hands under her arms, in a vain attempt to bring some warmth back into them, she sat on the floor, conserving body heat, her eyes scanning the other walls. Too cold to even cry, she banged her pitiful fists on the door, screaming in frustration.
Hearing a noise outside the door, Marilyn didn’t move, hoping that Susan hadn’t come back to finish the job personally. Her face lifted to the handle as she heard the bolt unlatch. The door swung open with amazing force, and towering above her, the light illuminating him from behind was Detective Bernard Cortland.
“I…I’m…sssssooo…glad…ttttto…ssseeee…you,” she shivered, tears of relief streaming down her face.
The handsome detective lifted her effortlessly to a standing position, then moved her out of what could very well have been her frosty tomb.
“Well, you left a message saying you were about to break the law by tampering with evidence. I couldn’t exactly ignore that, now could I?” he teased, surreptitiously looked her over to make sure she hadn’t suffered any injuries aside from being half frozen.
Marilyn smiled faintly, “You knew I was right.”
“About what?” Cortland raised an eyebrow.
She was trembling violently and he wrapped his jacket around her, moving her away from the freezer, out the door and into the balmy island evening.
“That I knew who poisoned Fergus.” She handed Bernard the sour cream container that now felt almost frozen to her fingers. “The evidence is in there.”
Bernard took the tub and handed it off to the officer at the front door, instructing him to “bag it.” He then called for an ambulance and for backup, handling it all so fast that Marilyn was having trouble focusing on him.
“Ok let’s go,” he said, steering her toward his patrol car.
“I’m fine, just chilled,” Marilyn protested, enjoying the feel of his hand at the small of her back.
“We’ll let the EMT’s decide that,” the detective looked at her with concern, putting an arm over her shoulders. “Let’s get you warmed up.” Too cold and drained to argue, she nodded and walked in step with him.
“So tell me what happened,” Cortland encouraged, loading her into the car and trying to take her mind off of the cold.
“I was looking for news, so I did an internet search on all of the suspects. When I searched Fergus’s name, I ran into a story about four boys in high school who had been drinking at a party and stupidly decided to get in a car. There was a tragic crash. Three of the boys, Fergus Downey, Fulton Keller, and Bobby Buris, lived, and one of the boys died…Wyatt D’Amico. It turns out that Wyatt had a little sister named Susan. Things really got scary when I looked up the other boys who had been in the car.”
Cortland raised his eyebrows and took a notebook out of his breast pocket.
“Fulton died a year ago and his cause of death was never determined. Fergus as you know, was poisoned, and Bobby Buris is alive and living in DC, but probably won’t be for long if you don’t find Susan,” she explained.
“But why would she seek revenge for her brother’s death now, after so many years?” the detective’s eyes narrowed.
“I don’t know. She told the truth when I met her, her husband did die recently, maybe that pushed her over the edge,” she guessed, shaking her head. “She broke down a couple of times when she thought about him. Maybe she was so destroyed emotionally that she just…snapped. And Fergus did try to flirt with her when she first started working.”
An ambulance pulled in behind Cortland’s cruiser. “Couldn’t you just drive me to the hospital if we’re going to insist on this?” she sighed.
Bernard gave her a look. “I have to stay here and secure the scene,” he reminded her.
Marilyn was checked out by the EMT’s, and as soon as they released her, she headed toward home to check on Tiara, stopping when she heard Detective Cortland calling her name.
“Aren’t you supposed to be securing the scene?” she teased as he jogged over to her.
The serious detective actually cracked a smile. “Thanks to your detective work, I was able to wrap it up pretty quickly. Miami has their team in there for another sweep, but my work here is done. We picked up the perpetrator as she was packing her bags to leave town. Turns out she has more than a few aliases and has been on the run ever since her husband died…of very suspicious circumstances. Your simple internet search enabled us to catch a serial killer. I thought the least I could do is offer you a lift home.”
“Oh my, that’s scary, but it’s a relief to know that she won’t be able to hurt anyone else,” Marilyn felt relief flood through her. “Yes, I’d like a ride home, thank you,” she replied, more than ready for quality one on one time with Bernard Cortland.
Nodding, he put his hand in the small of her back again, leading her to his unmarked cruiser.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to drop by for a piece of pie sometime?” Marilyn asked, surprised at her own boldness, as they crossed the street.
“Only if I can watch you make it,” the detective joked, raising his eyebrows.
A letter from the Author
To each and every one of my Amazing readers: I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think by leaving a review!
I’ll be releasing another installment in two weeks so to stay in the loop (and to get free books and other fancy stuff) Join my Book club.
Stay Curious,
Summer Prescott
A Lime To Kill: A Key West Culinary Cozy - Book 1 Page 6
