The Lime and the Dead: A Key West Culinary Cozy - Book 3 (5 page)

“Mom,
can I stay with you for a few days?” Tiara came bursting in the front door. Her
normally composed air of confidence shattered, her face tearstained.

“Of
course, honey...what happened? What’s wrong?” Marilyn wrapped her clearly
unsettled daughter into a hug.

“The
doorbell at my apartment hasn’t stopped ringing and somehow people have
discovered my cell phone number. It got so bad that I had to turn it off and
leave it off. I didn’t feel safe,” she whimpered, defeated by the pressure of
the past couple of days.

“Oh,
Tiara, honey, it’s okay. You’re safe now, I’ve got you,” her mother pulled her
in close, kissing her hair. When the young woman had calmed a bit, Marilyn led
her to the couch and wiped her eyes with a tissue.

“What
are they saying? Why are they calling and coming to your house?”

“It’s
two opposite extremes, actually,” she sniffed. “There are people calling who
think that I…that I…killed Bella,” her tears flowed freely again. “And then
there are the people who think I’m innocent and they want me to be on the show.
I’ve received five marriage proposals today, Mom, it’s beyond ridiculous,” she
wiped a hand angrily under her dripping nose.

“Yes,
it is,” Marilyn’s maternal instinct made her want to find the people who were
harassing her daughter and give them a piece of her mind, but she knew that it
was smarter for both of them if she just stayed put.

“Well,
you can stay here as long as you need to, sweetie. We’ll get through this, I
promise,” she nodded, stroking the hair back from her daughter’s dampened brow.

“I
just wish we’d never said that they could come into our shop,” she replied
tremulously.

“Me
too, honey. Me too.”

Mother
and daughter stayed up, feeling safe in each other’s company, well past the
time when both of them were normally in bed. They watched movies, snacked on
popcorn and tried to forget about the last couple of days. Marilyn made sure
that all of the doors and windows were securely locked, but both of them jumped
in fright when they suddenly heard a thud on the front porch, followed by the
unmistakable scream of an angry cat.

“What
do we do?” Tiara whispered, unconsciously pulling her flannel pajamas closer
around her.

“I
refuse to sit inside this house and hide from the boogeyman,” her mother pursed
her lips in determination. She went to the closet in the hall and grabbed an
ancient baseball bat from Tiara’s elementary school days, and headed for the
door.

“Are
you sure this is the right thing to do?” her daughter whispered again,
frantically, as she followed her to the door.

“At
this point, I don’t care,” her mother replied, teeth clenched in fear and
anger. Something primal had risen up within her. If someone wanted to threaten
her, fine, she was an adult, but when someone dared to even look askance at her
pride and joy, her beautiful daughter, they were going to get more than they
bargained for.

She
got to the front door, slowly unlocked the knob, taking her time so that the
latch didn’t give her away with a telltale click, then, with agonizing care,
she slid the deadbolt back, and immediately flung the door wide open. The cat
that she’d seen three times today, darted past her and into the house. Making a
beeline past a startled Tiara the terrified animal skittered to safety under
the couch. Figuring that the cat was the least of their worries, mother and
daughter stepped out onto the porch to find that the house had been vandalized.
The siding, windows and porch were covered in Key Lime pie. It dripped from the
railings and plopped onto window sills, the sticky green mess was everywhere.

Marilyn
lowered the bat, feeling both relieved and defeated. “Why? Why would someone do
this?” she asked rhetorically, her shoulders slumped.

“Maybe
they were trying to send a message,” Tim Eckels voice came from the shadows.
Tiara and her mother both jumped at his unexpected presence. He stepped very
briefly into the yellow glow cast by the porch lights, licking his fingers.
“Should’ve hired me…I make a mean Key Lime pie,” the ghoulish man said without
expression. The women stood and stared at him, mouths open in shock, and he
slowly turned and cut through the treeline, headed for his cottage.

“Is
he always that creepy?” Tiara asked, staring after the strange man.

Marilyn
just nodded.

They
went back inside and tempted the cat out from under the couch with a can of
tuna. The poor, bedraggled creature was covered head to toe in Key Lime pie,
and looked as though she was feeling sickly after attempting to clean her own
fur.

“What
do we do?” Tiara asked, feeling sorry, but not wanting to pick up the sticky,
matted creature.

“Well,
I hate to say it, but we’re going to have to give our furry friend here a
bath,” Marilyn sighed, picking up the miserable animal. “Go get two pair of
rubber gloves out from under the sink in the kitchen, and grab the baby shampoo
out of the downstairs bathroom. I’ll run some warm water, and we’ll have to
work as a team, because kitties usually don’t like baths,” she warned, not
looking forward to the task ahead. “After we get her taken care of, I’ll hose
off the front of the house and see if the troll next door did any other
damage.”

“You
should probably take some pictures of what he did before you clean it up,”
Tiara called out, heading for the shampoo and the rubber gloves.

“Good
call,” her mother nodded, frowning. “Let’s do this.”

The
two women worked together for the next couple of hours, first scrubbing a
surprisingly cooperative feline and toweling her dry, then hosing down and
scrubbing the siding, windows and porch floor. Thankfully, the front of the
house was the only side attacked.

“I’m
exhausted,” Tiara said, bending over to stretch her aching back.

“Me
too,” Marilyn agreed. “But we still have another task ahead of us,” she sighed.

“Really?
What?” her daughter frowned.

“We
have to get this clean and fluffy feline down to the shelter so that if her
owner is looking for her, they’ll find her,” she replied, scratching the
loveable cat behind the ears.

“But…Mom,
she doesn’t even have a collar…” Tiara pointed out.

“She
may have lost it, but this little girl is way too sweet to be a stray.”

They
loaded the purring cat into Marilyn’s little blue car and headed to the
shelter.

“Will
they even be open?” Tiara worried, stroking the furry bundle in her lap. “It’s
after midnight.”

“I
think they’re open 24 hours,” her mother replied, seemingly lost in thought.

“Do
you think Tim is going to…hurt us?”

“I
don’t know,” Marilyn admitted. “I hope not.”

“Well,
that answers that question,” Tiara said, pointing at the sign on the door of
the animal shelter. “It doesn’t open again until 9:00 tomorrow.”

“Looks
like we have a guest for the night,” Marilyn rubbed the contented creature’s
chin. “I don’t know what might happen to her if we put her back outside tonight.”

“Not
an option,” her daughter said, her chin set. “She’s staying safely inside with
us.”

“But
you have no evidence that Tim Eckels actually vandalized your home or attempted
to harm the cat,” Detective Bernard Cortland explained patiently.

“He
was standing right there, and talked about it,” Marilyn insisted, with Tiara
backing her up.

“I’m
sorry, ladies, but saying that he makes a mean Key Lime pie is in no way an
admission of guilt. We’ll send an extra patrol or two around to keep an eye on
things, but that’s all that I can do at this point. If his behavior escalates,
give me a call,” the detective stood, indicating that the conversation was
over.

“It
already did escalate, Detective. Bella Fontaine is proof of that, and my
daughter and I are not going to end up being his next victims,” Marilyn spat
contemptuously, leaving the room.

As
Tiara got up to follow her mother, Cortland stopped her for a moment. “What
size shoe do you wear?” he asked.

“Size
nine, why?” she replied, mystified.

“And
your mom, what size does she wear?” he continued.

“She
has big feet for being so petite, she wears an eight, why?”

“Okay,
thanks,” Cortland said, ignoring her question and making an entry into his
notebook.

“Tiara…I’m
ready to go when you are,” Marilyn said pointedly from the lobby, where she was
standing by the door.

“I’m
ready,” her daughter replied, giving the detective one last questioning look
before heading over to her mother.

The
two women rode together in silence for a while.

“I
don’t want to give her up,” Tiara said eventually.

“Who?
What are you talking about, honey?” Marilyn asked.

“The
cat. She’s precious and I want to keep her,” she replied, not daring to look at
her mother.

“Oh,
sweetie, chances are very good that she belongs to someone. We have to give her
to the shelter to see if she has a family missing her.”

Tiara’s
practical side was way ahead of her mother. “Okay, so, we leave her at the
shelter for a week, and if no one shows up to claim her, we adopt her, deal?”

Marilyn
sighed. Her daughter never asked for anything, and had clearly bonded with the
beloved and bedraggled cat who had slept next to her last night after her bath.
“You’ll have to keep her at your apartment,” she warned.

“Umm…I
can’t, Mom. My lease doesn’t allow pets,” she said, looking pitifully at her
mother.

“Honey,
having an animal is a big responsibility and I don’t…”

“I’ll
take care of her,” Tiara cut her off. “I’ll pay for vet visits and buy all the
food and kitty litter and I’ll keep her box clean, and I’ll come over and visit
you every day just so I can see her,” she grinned, batting her eyes at her
mother.

“Bribery
is illegal you know,” Marilyn raised an eyebrow at her daughter.

“Is
that a yes?” she demanded. Her mother’s dramatic sigh was her answer and she smiled
from ear to ear.

**

Crowds
were still flocking into the shop on a daily basis, and Tiara teased her mother
that if things didn’t slow down soon, she might just have to hire Tim Eckels to
keep up with the demand for pie. Marilyn wasn’t amused. She and Kelcie were in
the back, cranking out more product, and Tiara stayed up front, dealing with
the customers.

The
bell jangled above the door during a lull in the action, and Tiara looked up,
surprised to see Sabra Remington approaching the counter.

“Look,
I know I’m probably the last person that you want to see right now,” the
producer began, holding up her hands in a conciliatory gesture. “But I just
need to talk to you for a few minutes. Please.”

“I’m
listening,” was the cautious response.

“Things
are falling apart on the show. We lost Bella, Amber has been a mess and won’t
even talk to her boyfriend, her chauffeur quit, so we’ve been scrambling to try
and find another driver…if we don’t find some way to inject some light and life
into this mess, we’re going to get cancelled mid-season, and that would put
everyone out of work. I know your mother is angry with me, and rightfully so, I
accused her of some pretty awful things, but I could really use your help
here,” Sabra shrugged.

“What
made you change your mind about my mother? Everyone else on the show was trying
to point fingers in my direction, but you went straight for Mom, and now you’ve
changed your mind…why?” Tiara asked.

“Honestly,
I was just angry and scared and looking for someone to blame. Your mom was an
easy target because she’s one of the few people in a very long time who
actually had the guts to stand up to me. I’m used to calling the shots in my
world, and your mother made it quite clear that she calls the shots in hers. I
found it frustrating, so naturally, when something negative happened, I wanted
to believe that Marilyn had caused it somehow,” Sabra explained. “It doesn’t
make me the most noble of people but it’s the truth. I feel badly about it, but
it is what it is and I need your help,” she admitted.

Tiara
sighed. “Bella’s murder still hasn’t been solved. I don’t even know what
happened to her, I just know that she’s dead, and there seem to be quite a few
people who think that I was involved. Wouldn’t it be terribly awkward and
potentially dangerous for me to be on the show? Amber hates me, for one thing,”
she reminded the producer.

Sabra
shook her head. “No, she doesn’t hate you, she was upset and looking for
someone to blame too. She realizes that she lashed out at you because she
thought you had been mean to Bella before she died, but after reviewing the
footage, she saw that your reaction actually made sense. She’s willing to
apologize because she just needs a friend so badly.”

Tiara
nodded, torn. “Let me think about it,” she said finally, not wanting to make a
decision on the spot.

The
producer visibly relaxed. “Absolutely, take your time. Here’s my card,” she
said, handing her a glittery piece of card stock. “Call me when you can. If I
haven’t heard back from you by tomorrow, I’ll stop in again.”

The
young woman behind the counter bit her lip, lost in thought. “Have you told the
police that you don’t think Mom or I had anything to do with Bella’s murder?”

“A
long time ago,” Sabra nodded, with a reassuring smile. “Call soon, okay?”

“Yeah,”
Tiara agreed quietly. The door closed behind the producer, and she stood,
staring blankly at the counter top.

“That
woman has a lot of nerve, asking you to help her out,” Marilyn remarked from
behind her.

“Agreed,”
her daughter murmured. “But sometimes the easiest way to get inside info is by
being on the inside.”