Death by Lime: A Key West Culinary Cozy - Book 5
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Authors: Summer Prescott
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
“Kelcie, I think we have truly outdone ourselves this time,” petite, dark-haired Marilyn Hayes, owner of
SubLime Sweets
– a popular Key Lime pie shop in Key West – said, adding a dab of freshly whipped cream to the top of their latest creation, with a flourish. Her lovely, mocha-skinned assistant nodded.
“Yes, ma’am, I believe you may be right,” the young woman agreed, eyeing the pastry that was as beautiful as it was tasty.
The baking duo had created a key lime pastry, topped with kiwi, strawberry and thin slices of pineapple, that was sure to be a hit with the breakfast crowd. Crowning each pastry with a fresh sprig of mint, they arranged the pastries on trays and took them out to put in the chilled display cases at the front counter. Marilyn had just placed the last bit of garnish on the delectable treats when her tall, blonde daughter Tiara entered the kitchen. Tiara had graduated from college with honors, but was working at her mother’s shop until she found the job of her dreams, and had contributed significantly to the marketing efforts that were currently growing Marilyn’s profits by leaps and bounds.
“Somebody certainly thinks you’re pretty special, Kelcie,” she grinned. “There’s a gorgeous bouquet waiting for you up at the front counter.”
The assistant’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Wow…really?” she asked.
“You seem surprised…” Tiara’s looked at her, confused.
“Shocked, actually,” Kelcie corrected. “My Thomas isn’t a moonlight and roses kind of guy. When we go out to eat, he takes me to the Rib Joint,” she rolled her eyes. “There isn’t a romantic bone in that man’s body,” she put her hands on her hips and shook her head.
“Well, let’s go see what he sent you,” Marilyn suggested, her curiosity killing her. She’d decided after her divorce that she was probably better off alone, since her taste in men wasn’t the greatest, so she occasionally enjoyed living vicariously through the girls and the significant others who happened to wander in and out of their lives.
“Yeah,” Tiara chimed in. “C’mon, let’s go see. Maybe Thomas decided to step up his game,” she shrugged optimistically.
“Okaaaaay,” Kelcie finally agreed, not knowing how to feel about the whole thing.
“Wow, they’re beautiful!” Marilyn exclaimed when the three of them walked out to the front counter, where a crystal vase with an elaborate bouquet of tropical flowers waited patiently to be sniffed, photographed and appreciated.
Kelcie folded her arms and stared, the look on her face less than pleased. “Thomas didn’t send these,” she said softly.
“How do you know? You haven’t even read the card yet,” Tiara reminded her.
“There’s no way that he’d be able to afford anything like this,” she replied softly, standing a few feet away from the arrangement. “He just opened his bicycle shop – he’s operating in the red right now,” she murmured.
“Okay, the suspense is killing me,” Marilyn blurted. “If Thomas didn’t send them, let’s find out who did – read the card, sweetie,” she encouraged.
Kelcie reached for the card that was tucked into a plastic pitchfork in the middle of the arrangement, and tore open the tiny pink envelope. She read at the message inside, frowned, looked back at the flowers, read it again, and seemed puzzled.
“Well…what does it say?” Tiara asked before her mother could.
Wordlessly, she handed the small card over, and Tiara read it aloud.
“
I see you every day, I wish you’d look my way. Your beauty ignites me, your voice delights me. I’ll meet you as soon as I can, I can’t wait to be your man.”
“Hmm…” Marilyn pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well, you’re right, it certainly doesn’t seem like something that a boyfriend would say,” she told Kelcie.
“This freaks me out a little bit,” the young woman admitted.
“Why?” Tiara asked, concerned.
“I don’t know, exactly,” she shook her head. “Lately, when I walk home, I’ve just felt like…like someone was watching me or something. I know it probably sounds crazy,” she said, embarrassed.
“I don’t think it sounds crazy at all,” Tiara assured her. “The card says that whoever this is sees you every day. Maybe someone has been watching you, or following you. It used to happen to girls on campus sometimes. Guys would get obsessed and just not take no for an answer.”
“Do you have any idea of who this could be?” Marilyn asked. “Could someone be playing a sad joke or something?”
“I have no idea,” Kelcie replied, wide-eyed.
“Ex-boyfriends? High school crushes?” Tiara prodded, trying to help her narrow it down.
“I doubt it,” the assistant made a face. “I was an ugly duckling in high school, so no crushes, and the only ex-boyfriend that still lives around her is Camden, and I’m still friends with him, so there’d be no reason for him to do this.”
“Well, it’s a mystery,” Marilyn remarked. “And I think for now, on nights when Thomas can’t be here to walk you home, either I’ll give you a ride or Tiara and I will walk with you,” she said firmly.
“You don’t have to do that,” Kelcie protested, not wanting to impose.
“Uh...yes we do,” Tiara insisted. “At least until we find out who your “secret admirer” is.”
“Okay,” the young woman agreed, still uncomfortable. “I guess that makes sense.”
“Okay, this is really freaking me out,” Kelcie complained when she came in the back door of the shop carrying her morning latte.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Marilyn asked, concerned. It was so unlikely for the sweet girl to complain about anything, that something must be really wrong for her to mention it.
“When I left my house this morning, I noticed that someone had weeded and re-mulched all of the gardens in front of my house, so I texted my landlord to thank him, and he said that he hadn’t sent anyone to do it. He was actually a little bit rude about it too, saying that he wasn’t going to pay for it if someone sent him a bill because he didn’t authorize it,” she made a face, remembering the interaction.
“Thomas?” Marilyn asked.
“That’s what I thought,” Kelcie nodded. “He may not have much money, but this is something that he could’ve done almost for free, so I texted him to ask about it and he said that he hadn’t done it either,” she frowned.
“Are you thinking that your secret admirer might have done it?” her boss felt a growing sense of dread.
“If he didn’t, I don’t know who else would have,” the worried young woman replied. “But, it gets worse…”
“Worse? How?”
“So, I went to the coffee shop that’s just down the street from my house. I stop there every morning before work because they make the best coconut milk lattes. When I got to the front of the line and ordered, the cashier asked if I was Kelcie. I said that I was, and he said that my order had already been paid for earlier. So, I asked him by whom, and he said that he didn’t really remember, some guy had come in the day before and given him the money. This is really getting to me, Ms. Hayes. I don’t know what to do,” Kelcie lamented.
“Have you spoken to the police?” Marilyn asked.
“No. What would I tell them? Someone keeps doing nice things for me? I don’t think that’s a crime,” she sighed.
“Right, but they might be able to give you some guidance as to the best way to deal with this kind of thing,” her boss pointed out.
“I suppose. Maybe I’ll stop by the police station after work,” Kelcie shrugged, slightly scared, but mostly annoyed.
“Or…there’s a detective that stops in for pie occasionally. I could call him and ask him to come by. I’ll offer a free slice of pie as a bribe,” Marilyn smiled.
“Let’s not use detective and bribe in the same conversation,” Kelcie teased. “Are you talking about the tall, hot guy?”
Marilyn looked down and blushed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she protested lamely.
“Uh-huh…then why is your face turning pink,” the young woman grinned.
“Warm in here today,” the shop owner fanned herself dramatically. Clearly a change of subject was in order. “Let’s tackle this baking, shall we?”
“Of course,” Kelcie nodded knowingly.
The two women spent the morning making Marilyn’s famous Key Lime pies, as well as cupcakes, filled strawberries, and their newest pastries, which had completely sold out before noon yesterday. Tiara came in after teaching her Yoga on the Beach class, and was ready to report to her mother the status of the shop’s finances.
“So here it is…” she laid a handful of spreadsheets on the desk in front of her mother. “Profits have been consistently rising to a degree that if you’d like to expand in this building, or open a second location, you should be in a position to do that by the end of the year,” she announced proudly, showing Marilyn the figures.
Marilyn shook her head in happy disbelief, tears welling in her eyes. “I never thought…” she said, unable to continue.
Tiara grinned and hugged her mother. “I always knew that it was just a matter of time, Mom. You did this. You made this happen. I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m the one who’s proud,” Marilyn said, wiping her eyes. “You’ve helped me so much with the books and the marketing and growth strategy…I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Sure you could’ve, it just would’ve taken way longer,” her daughter teased, lightening the mood. Both of them cracked up. “We have planning to do, but at the moment, I need to get up to the front to help customers, and you and Kelcie need to do your kitchen thing,” Tiara decreed, heading for the door.
Marilyn lingered at her desk for a few minutes after her daughter left to open the shop. She’d come so far from the divorce-torn single mom who had made Key Lime pies in her tiny kitchen to keep her and her daughter alive. Now, her beautiful daughter was a college graduate, and her business was thriving. Life was good. Buoyed by the wave of self-confidence that Tiara’s good news had inspired, she picked up the phone and called the dashing Detective Bernard Cortland, who was more than willing to be bribed with a piece of her Key Lime pie.
**
“So do you have any idea who your admirer might be?” Detective Cortland asked, easing his fork into a luscious slab of pie.
“No, I can’t think of anyone,” Kelcie shook her head. “It’s not like I’m a big flirt. The only places that I go are here, my apartment, and to my boyfriend’s place occasionally.”
“You mentioned the coffee shop, do you go there every day?” he probed, savoring the tangy, gooey sweetness of his dessert.
“Well, yeah, but the guy who works there doesn’t like girls, so he’s totally safe,” she explained.
“Okay,” Bernard nodded. “Do you have any other activities?”
“I try to go to Tiara’s Yoga on the Beach class whenever I wake up early enough, but other than that, and a few trips to the library, I’m pretty much a homebody,” she shrugged.
“Do you volunteer at the library?”
“No, I’m a book junkie,” she confessed with a smile. “I have a handful of favorite authors and I read everything that they write.”
“Well, it certainly sounds like you don’t live a high-risk lifestyle, but there are a few things that you can do to minimize your exposure. Often, things like this have a tendency to just go away on their own. Unreturned love isn’t much fun, so the admirer tires of the game and moves on to something else. There are cases, however, where the obsessive behavior escalates, and, I don’t want to scare you, but when that happens, it can be dangerous.”
Kelcie’s eyes widened at the detective’s warning. “So, what should I do?” she asked quietly.
“First, alter your routine. If you typically go to the library on Wednesdays at three o’clock, try going on Thursday at five. Same thing with coffee and yoga. Try not to establish any kind of pattern that your admirer might be able to pick up on. We don’t want him anticipating your every move. Second, be hyper-aware of your surroundings. Try to see who’s around you and what they’re doing, everywhere you go. If you hear a rustle in the bushes, don’t get any closer, but see if you can see someone. Keep track of every incident where the admirer tries to contact you. If he sends a note, keep it and take a photo of it on your phone. I’ll leave a card with you, and when you take photos, you can send them to me.”
“Okay,” Kelcie nodded, clearly rattled. “Anything else?”
“Be safe. Keep doors and windows locked when you’re alone and when you leave the apartment, don’t walk by yourself if you can help it, particularly at night, keep your cell phone on you at all times, and be alert to everything that’s going on around you,” he advised. “If the behavior escalates, or you’re afraid for whatever reason, don’t hesitate to call.”
“Thank you, Detective,” she murmured, overwhelmed.