Key Lime Crime

by Cassie Rivers

  I needed to talk to someone really badly, but Ty worked that morning, busy with clients. So I called Star back, waking her up yet again.

  As she picked up the phone, she let out a yawn before speaking. "I hope you have a good reason for waking me up. It's not very often I get to sleep in."

  "My grandma always said that the early bird catches the worm," I said in a tone I was sure was too chipper for her. The combination of excitement and caffeine perked me up to a level I was sure was a 10 on the annoying scale.

  "Did your grandmother always talk in clichés?"

  "Not always, but grandmas know how to dish out useful advice."

  Star sighed. "My grandmother slept with a pistol under her pillow."

  "To teach people to leave her alone when trying to sleep."

  "I can't stop thinking about the accident this morning. In fact, I question if it's even an accident to begin with. Something seems fishy."

  "We are by the ocean. The air usually smells fishy."

  "I'm being serious. My gut instinct is going crazy. It's too bad there are no security cameras posted inside Grove Park."

  Star yawned again. "Why not check the security cameras I installed on the truck?"

  "Wait a minute. You installed a camera on my truck?"

  "Actually four cameras. One for each corner," she replied. "You don't remember? I asked you the other day if you wanted to meet to put a few cameras up. You nodded your head yes, so I took a few hundred bucks out of the register and purchased the cameras."

  "It's funny, I don't remember noticing any money missing from the register."

  "You are so bad with money," Star said as she laughed. "Here's an idea for you. Why don't you let the accountant working for you keep your books and worry more about chopping onions?" She had a point. I lacked money management and bookkeeping skills. Not my strong points.

  "Do you think one of the cameras recorded the incident that morning?"

  "It's possible," Star said. She waited a few seconds before responding further. "Camera three is at the southeast corner of the truck. The Mama Mia food truck should be located directly in the camera’s line of sight."

  "It's a shame the park is closed and off-limits today. The anticipation is killing me. I wish we could watch the tape now.”

  "There's no physical tape. The cameras are wi-fi enabled and upload all videos to the cloud."

  Every time I heard the term the cloud, it tickled me. My mind imagined large clouds of data and words cluttering the skies above us. I was clueless to how it really worked, but liked to think my understanding was correct.

  "I didn’t install wi-fi on the Burger She Wrote truck. How are you connecting the cameras to the Internet?"

  "I'm borrowing the signal from the Cover Your Buns truck. Surely they don't mind."

  "Do they even know you’re stealing their wi-fi?"

  "Stealing is kind of harsh, don't you think? If you take advantage of your neighbor having a bright outside light to do things in your own yard, is that considered stealing?" she said, trying to plead her case. “The important thing here is that we can access the footage from anywhere."

  "Can you come over to my house and pull up the video on my computer?"

  At this point, I was sure Star realized I wasn't going to take no for an answer. She agreed. "I'll head over there now. The quicker I can get there, the quicker I can get back to bed."

  As I walked down my street and approached the house, Star surprised me by already being there.

  "How did you get here before I did?"

  "Probably because I actually own a car."

  As she walked into my home, Star looked around, examining each little detail. "Nice house. I never would have imagined you were a collector of such unusual and creepy knickknacks."

  “Those clowns are not mine. In fact, I’d smash them all to pieces with a sledge hammer, if it were up to me. Unfortunately, those belong to my mom. I’m staying with her for the time being.”

  “Why are they all facing the wall?”

  My mom's collection of clown statues and collectibles was displayed in every corner of our home. No matter where you stood in the house, it appeared as if they were always looking in your direction. I grew to hate clowns. I developed a phobia for them. To this day, I wouldn’t step foot within a ten mile radius of a circus.

  My phobia stemmed from a traumatic incident in my childhood, or at least, it felt traumatic to me. I watched the movie IT, based on the Stephen King novel, when I was eight years old. I snuck in the living room one night when my parents were watching it, when I was supposed to be in bed asleep. I hid behind the couch and peeked out the side, so I could see the screen. Two eyes glued to the tube, while both hands were gripping Mr. Fluffy for dear life.

  For the next few weeks, creepy clowns haunted my dreams. In fact, I didn't sleep with the lights off until I was fourteen years old. Even then, I needed a night light.

  Did I mention I hate clowns?

  “Where’s your mom at?” Star asked as she continued to look around the house.

  “She’s away at a writer’s conference in Miami, and won’t be back until Sunday evening. So it’s just me until then.”

  Star smiled. “You and the clowns.”

  Not funny.

  Star and I took a seat at the dining room table. I handed her my laptop so she could access the video. She quickly pecked the keyboard and in seconds, had the video feed up.

  Watching a video feed for clues in real life paled in comparison to how Hollywood portrayed it. If we were in a movie, Star and I would be sitting inside a high-tech van on an exciting stakeout. Instead, we were hunched around my kitchen table staring at my sad excuse for a laptop.

  Star logged on to the website where we could access the video feed. She pecked at the keyboard so quickly, my head spun. I’m glad someone knew what they were doing.

  "Do you think it’ll be there?"

  "The camera uploads a file daily for each 24 hour period. Unless Kim Kardashian broke the Internet again, it should be there," she explained. "Each of the four cameras has a separate folder. Here is. Camera three, the one you’re looking for."

  She scrolled through the files with a flick of the mouse. I wonder how she could even read the file name with them going by so fast. My head continued to spin as I tried to watch.

  "Bingo," she called out. "This is it. June 7."

  With a double-click of the mouse, Star started the recording video feed. Although the video quality was decent, it was dark and rainy due to it being so early in the morning. The fact that Grove Park lacked adequate lighting made it worse. With that being said, it was better than nothing.

  "Wow, this is exciting," Star said as she watched the video. Star never lacked sarcasm, but she had a point. Believe it or not, there wasn't much action taking place at 2 a.m. in Grove Park on a Wednesday.

  "We need to speed this up, or we’ll be here all night," Star said as she increased the speed to twenty times faster. "That's better."

  As the minutes on the video fast forwarded, nothing happened. Three hundred dollars spent on this equipment. Three hundred dollars I didn’t know I spent to begin with. My attitude changed to one of disappointment and discouragement.

  “Wait. Stop the video,” I shouted as I pointed at the laptop screen. “Look over in the corner. It’s a white Mercedes Benz.”

  Star paused the video without hesitation. “Is that John Harmon’s car?” she asked. We both continued to stare at the screen.

  “Restart the video, but slow it back down,” I said.

  We sat and watched while a man opened the car door and stepped outside. Again, the video was dark and grainy, so the identity of the man could be questioned. Although, the size and profile of the man fit the description of John Harmon.

  “What’s he doing?” Star asked as we continued to glue our eyes to the screen.

  The man was pacing in a circle in front of the Mama Mia food truck. He held his left hand up to his ear as he walked
around.

  Saying the man walked around gave him too much credit. He noticeably stumbled and swayed as he walked. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said he was drunk. John Harmon’s reputation included him being notorious for drinking like a fish.

  “I think he’s talking on his cell phone.” Grove Park offered spotty cell reception at best. I noticed my cell reception turning worse when I stood inside the truck. Maybe that was why the man paced outside.

  “By the way he’s acting, he should be calling an Uber or cab,” Star replied.

  A few minutes later, John Harmon walked into the truck. “That has to be John Harmon. I’m convinced,” I told Star. “What was he doing there so early? Where was Chris?”

  The minutes continued to tick by as nothing happened on the video. “I’m bored again,” Star said as she stood up from the table. She walked over to the fridge and opened it up. “Have anything good to eat? All this sleuthing works up an appetite.”

  I imagined Star weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet. For someone as slender as she was, she knew how to put away the food. Although I wasn’t sure where she put it. No matter how much she ate, Star failed to gain a pound. If I even looked at a potato chip, I gained a pound or two.

  “Did you see that? I shouted.

  Star turned around and muttered a few words with her mouth half-full of something. “See what?”

  The screen displayed the Mama Mia food truck, or what used to be the Mama Mia food truck, set ablaze. The camera’s resolution was perfect at that point. The fire shone so bright that it lit the park up like it was noon.

  “Crap. I missed the explosion. I’m going to play it back. You have any popcorn?” Star asked. “Now it’s getting exciting.”

  Star sat back down and replayed the prior minute’s footage. It was quite a sight to see the park go from quiet and peaceful to up in flames in a split second. I started to lose count of how many times she replayed it.

  “Boom,” she called out as we watched the truck explode for the umpteenth time.

  “Can this thing play in slow-motion as well?”

  “It sure can. Great idea,” Star said. There was no doubt Star wanted to see the pure epic wonder of the explosion slowed down, but I had other ideas. The incident happened so fast. I wanted to be sure we didn’t miss anything.

  “That’s it,” I called out as I jumped out of my chair. “Look behind the truck, on the left hand side. There’s someone back there walking towards the truck.”

  Dressed from head-to-toe in black, a mysterious figure appeared from behind a palmetto tree. Walking towards the truck, the man carried a large metallic object in his right hand. A slight reflection of light shone off the object as the man swung it back and forth.

  “Is that a propane tank?” Star asked. It indeed appeared to be a propane tank. Having an extra propane tank on site helped explain the massive explosion that eventually took place.

  “Where did he go?” I asked as the mysterious person in black disappeared behind the Mama Mia truck.

  I waited only briefly for my question to be answered. The unidentified figure appeared to walk out from behind the truck, noticeably without the object he carried over there in the beginning. He looked around briefly, then ran away as quick as he could. A moment later, the truck went boom.

  “He sure bolted out of there in a hurry,” Star said while still munching on my food.

  “Don’t you understand what this means?” I asked Star as my heart began to race with excitement.

  “Don’t play with fire.”

  “Well, yes, that too, I guess,” I responded as Star’s quip derailed my thought. She had a knack for that. “This means the explosion wasn’t an accident. Someone murdered John Harmon.”

  “What now?” Star asked.

  “I know just the man to take this to.”

  8

  If there was anyone in Sunny Shores I could trust besides my mother, Sam Martin was the one. Sam Martin held the office of the Sunny Shores Police Chief. I grew up knowing Sam as my father’s partner on the force. The two of them were detectives on the police force for almost fifteen years. Because of him and my father being so close, I thought of him as a member of my own family.

  Star dropped me off at the Sunny Shores Police Department before going back home. As I walked through the large glass double doors, I felt a sense of calm and comfort. Being inside those walls, I felt as if I was home. I loved when my father took me to the police station. I blamed him for my love affair with the law and mysteries in general.

  The feeling of being inside the police station turned bittersweet as the thought of my father entered my mind. To keep my heart from sinking further, I avoided looking in the direction of where his desk sat. There were too many fond memories of sitting in his chair, pretending to be a detective.

  “Kara,” a sweet, soft voice sounded out from behind. “It’s so good to see you.”

  I turned to see a familiar face: Officer Janet Moses. Janet’s job was to work the front desk and phones for the Sunny Shores police. She had worked there for as long as I could remember. Her smile brightened my mood as it was always contagious.

  “How have you been?” I asked as we both reached for a hug. “It’s been too long.”

  “I know. I felt bad that I didn’t get to talk to you much at the funeral. You handled it well, Kara. You father was a great man. I’m so sorry for your loss. He is truly missed around here.”

  I took a deep breath. No matter how many times his name had come up in conversations, I still felt sadness every time someone mentioned him. I hoped it would get better with time.

  “Thank you, Janet,” I replied. “Is Sam around? I need to show him something in regard to the incident and Grove Park this morning.”

  “He’s in his office. I’ll walk you over there.”

  As we walked to Sam’s office, I tried to run through what I would say in my head. Doing something like this was new to me. I wasn’t completely sure what to do, but I knew something had to be done.

  “What are you doing here?” Sam asked as he greeted us at the door. Janet walked away and he led me into his office.

  My mind was racing with too many thoughts at once, so I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head.

  “It was John Harmon,” I shouted.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked as he stared at me in confusion.

  “John Harmon was the one who burned in the truck.”

  “We know that already.”

  “That’s not all,” I said as I pulled out my cell phone from my purse. “The explosion wasn’t an accident.”

  “What are you trying to say?” Sam asked. “It seems reasonable when someone inexperienced messes with propane.”

  “That’s not what happened,” I replied sternly. “John Harmon was murdered.”

  “Kara, I appreciate your enthusiasm. I really do. It reminds me of how your father was,” Sam said. “But I told you the police would handle it. At this point, the case is considered closed. There’s no reason for further investigation.”

  “I understand, but I have evidence that clearly shows that it wasn’t an accident.”

  “Evidence?”

  “Star installed four security cameras on my truck. One was pointed in the direction of John Harmon’s truck. See for yourself.”

  I opened the video that Star saved on my phone. I played the entire incident as Sam watched from his chair. His face looked more serious as each second went by.

  “Hmm…”

  Sam stood up and walked behind me and closed his office door. He took a deep breath as he walked back over to his desk.

  “You have to understand the position that the mayor has put me in. Tourism is the only thing that’s keeping this town alive financially.”

  I was confused at his response. “What does that have to do with anything? This man was murdered.”

  “I know it’s hard for you to understand, but we don’t want to end up with the same situ
ation that happened to Parrot Bay. Since the orange juice factory closed, tourism is all this town has. Without it, we would be bankrupt.”

  “But I have evidence. The video clearly shows a man in black carrying a propane tank to the truck and going inside.”

  “Your video doesn’t clearly prove anything. The person in black could be a man or woman. There is nothing in that video that could match it to any one person. It proves nothing.”

  I felt flabbergasted. The Sam Martin I grew up knowing wouldn’t dismiss strong evidence such as this. He would at least look it over and sleep on it. For some reason I couldn’t understand, he’d dismissed me completely.

  “Why are you so interested in this case, Kara? This is about your father, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe so…”

  “Your father wasn’t only my partner, but my best friend as well. He was like a brother to me.”

  “I know, but…”

  “Kara, you have to believe me. I did everything in my power to find your father’s killer. I spent long hours and late nights going through his case file, but there just wasn’t enough evidence to identify the person behind it.”

  “I believe you, but why are you ignoring the evidence in this case?”

  “The mayor has cut my funding, and I have limited resources. He’s directed us to close this case and focus on more important things.”

  “Like what?”

  He stood in front of me, clueless and without a good response. He appeared conflicted.

  “If additional evidence was found that could tie the murder to a particular person, the department would be forced to reopen the case,” he said as he took a deep breath. “But until then, the case is closed.”

  As I left his office, one thought dominated my mind. If something needed to be done to bring the true murderer to justice, the police weren’t going to do it.

  I knew I would have to investigate it myself.

  9

  As I sliced tomatoes the next morning inside my truck, my mind was focused on the death of John Harmon. No matter what anyone said, I was convinced without a shadow of a doubt that it was no accident. Someone was out for blood, and I wanted to get to the bottom of it.