Death, Limes and Videotape: A Key West Culinary Cozy - Book 7 Page 3

  “Do you miss her?” she dared ask, softly.

  “Sometimes,” he nodded. “I’ve been without her for so long, that I don’t think about it nearly as often as I used to. I know that she would’ve wanted me to be happy and to live my life however I saw fit, so that’s what I’ve been trying to do.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do too,” she squeezed his hand, feeling honored that he had shared so much with her. She shivered a bit.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, picking up on it instantly.

  “A bit,” Marilyn admitted.

  “Let’s get you home then,” he said, turning around to head back. “Are you up for the walk, or would you rather take a cab?” he asked, putting an arm around her to take away the chill. She breathed in the spicy, masculine scent of him, thinking that she’d walk all the way to Georgia if he kept his arm around her like this, pulling her into his muscled warmth.

  “I’d like to walk, if you don’t mind,” she smiled up at him, her heart skipping a beat when she realized how close her lips were to his.

  “I don’t mind at all,” he said agreeably. They put their shoes back on after rinsing off at a public tap, and headed for Marilyn’s neighborhood.

  She had a realization when they were halfway there. “Oh my goodness, is it going to be too far for you to walk home after you drop me off? I didn’t even think about that,” she worried.

  “Nope,” he put her fears to rest. “I’m in pretty good shape and it’s a beautiful night. I’ll be able to burn off all of those calories from the fries,” he joked.

  “Mmmm…it is a beautiful night,” she agreed, moving subtly closer as they walked.

  They arrived at her driveway all too soon, and Bernard walked her up the steps to her porch, where Marilyn had forgotten to turn on the light before she left. Pulling her keys out of her bag, she was caught off guard when the handsome detective held out his hand for them and unlocked the door for her, handing them back.

  “Thank you for tonight…I had a great time,” she said, gazing up at the rugged perfection of his face.

  “So did I,” he smiled, his dimples wreaking havoc with her pulse. “I’d like to get together again sometime, if you don’t mind,” he asked, taking her hand.

  “I don’t mind at all,” she said softly, almost whispering.

  “Good,” he nodded, then brought her hand to his lips brushing them gently against the inside of her wrist, making her shiver again. “Better get inside and get warm,” he suggested, never taking his eyes from hers. Uncharacteristically speechless, she merely smiled and nodded, slipping inside as he watched her.

  Chapter 7

  Marilyn and Kelcie were busy in the stainless-steel commercial kitchen, preparing pies, tarts, cakes and other goodies made from both mangos, limes, or a combination of the two, when Tiara came in, dressed in yoga pants and an old college sweatshirt, looking less than healthy.

  “Sweetie, you look terrible,” Marilyn put down her mixing spoon, concerned.

  “It’s just a headache, Mom. No biggie,” she mumbled, moving slowly through the kitchen toward the break room.

  “Are you sure?” she persisted, frowning.

  The tall blonde made it almost to the break room before pivoting and charging toward the bathroom down the hall. Marilyn and Kelcie cringed, hearing the grating sounds of retching coming from the bathroom. The assistant paled beneath her beautiful mocha complexion, turning a disturbing shade of grey.

  “Ms. Hayes, do you mind if I go up front for a while? I can’t listen to this…” Kelcie wrapped her arms around her middle, pleading with her eyes.

  “No, honey, that’s fine, just go sit at one of the bistro tables. I’ll come get you when the crisis is over,” her boss replied, walking over to the bathroom door.

  She waited until the heaving sounds had abated before knocking quietly. “Tiara, sweetie? Are you okay?” she called through the door.

  “I wanna go home,” her daughter’s muffled and miserable voice reached her, sounding as though she were sitting on the floor.

  “Do you need to go to Urgent Care?” her mother asked, worried. Tiara taught Yoga on the Beach three times a week and was as healthy as a horse typically.

  “No, I need to go to bed,” she moaned.

  “Okay, sweetie, just take your time and I’ll give you a ride,” Marilyn promised. “Can I get you anything?”

  “No,” was the abbreviated response before the retching resumed.

  Marilyn went up front to check on Kelcie, hoping that the two of them hadn’t come down with a bug. She found her assistant sitting at a table in the very front, head in her hands. She’d propped the front door open for a couple of reasons, one to get some fresh air, the other so that the traffic noises would cover up the horrible sounds coming from the bathroom.

  “You okay?”

  Kelcie looked up and nodded. “I’m really sorry, but I have a weak stomach, and when I hear or smell, or see someone getting sick…it makes me sick too,” she explained.

  Her boss breathed a sigh of relief. “So, you’re not ill?” she asked, just to be sure.

  “No, ma’am, I’m fine as long as I’m not near…that,” she made a face.

  “Wonderful,” Marilyn nodded. “When Tiara is done in the bathroom, I’m going to drive her home. If you’ll make a sign saying that we’ll be opening an hour late this morning and tape it up on the door, then finish up the pies for today, I’ll try to get back here as soon as I can and we’ll just handle things as best we can,” she patted the young woman’s arm.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Kelcie agreed, as Marilyn headed back toward the kitchen.

  Tiara leaned weakly against the wall outside of the bathroom, barely even glancing up when Marilyn came in. The concerned mother put a hand up to feel her daughter’s forehead and was overwhelmed by the scent emanating from her only child.

  “You smell like a brewery,” she observed, hands on hips. “This isn’t illness, this is a hangover,” she deduced, appraising her daughter with pursed lips.

  “Yes, Mom, I had too much to drink…sue me,” she muttered, putting a hand to her forehead.

  “Young lady, you may not be feeling well, which is entirely your own fault, but that gives you no excuse to be disrespectful,” Marilyn chided her gently, mindful of her miserable condition.

  “I know, Mom, I’m sorry,” Tiara sighed. “Can we just go now?” she asked, closing her eyes.

  “Hang on,” her mother replied, going to the cabinet and pulling out a large mixing bowl. “Here, take this,” she handed it to the suffering young woman. “I’m not going to have any messy accidents in the car,” she explained, glad that she’d taken a cab to El Siboney to retrieve her vehicle this morning.

  Tiara took the bowl and headed out the back door, shoulders slumped. Marilyn was determined to remain silent until she could think of a gentle way to broach the subject that was concerning her. Her daughter slumped against the passenger door with the window open, the cool, humid Key West air blowing stringy hair back from her face.

  “Honey,” the worried mother began carefully. “It’s not like you to…”

  “I screwed up, Mom, okay? This is not the end of the world. I went out with Jace and his crew and I had a little too much to drink. It’s not a big deal,” the pale young woman insisted, mumbling, her hand over her eyes to block the sun.

  “Jace Chesterton?” Marilyn asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise, unable to hide her disapproval.

  “You don’t have to say his name like that,” Tiara sighed. “It’s not like it’s his fault that I have a hangover. I made my own choices and I’m suffering the consequences of them, can’t we just leave it at that?” she breathed deeply in through her nose and let it out slowly.

  The irate mother within wanted to rant and rail about the lack of character that she’d seen in Jace Chesterton, if all of the reports and articles about him were to be believed, but the more rational side of her suspected that her starstruck daughter
would respond much better to a more reasoned argument. Tiara’s behavior was so out of character for the normally responsible and even-keeled young woman.

  “Well, he’s not exactly known for his powers of self-control and restraint. I’m thinking that there are probably far better choices of young men out there with whom you could spend your time,” Marilyn suggested, as diplomatically as she could, given her disdain for the negative influence that the food blogger had been in her daughter’s life.

  “I’m a big girl, Mom, I’ll be fine. I can’t tell you how many girls would love to be hanging out with Jace Chesterton,” she murmured, on the verge of sleep.

  “And I can only imagine the number of them who’ve already paid dearly for the privilege,” her mother said, mostly under her breath. Tiara didn’t reply, and her even breathing clued Marilyn in to the fact that she had gone to sleep. Figuring that she’d want to be at home, in her own apartment to recover, she drove to the apartment that her daughter shared with two friends, got out of the car, and helped her to her door. After making sure that the suffering girl had water and the large mixing bowl within easy reach of her bedside, she headed back to the shop to help Kelcie with customers.

  Chapter 8

  Detective Bernard Cortland sat in SubLime Sweets devouring an extra-large piece of Key Lime pie, while Marilyn tried her best not to stare at the handsome fellow with a dreamy grin on her face.

  “Delicious, as always,” he said, savoring the tart, tangy goodness of his favorite dessert.

  “Thanks,” she replied, taking a seat across from him at the gaily painted green and yellow bistro set. “Mind if I join you?” she asked.

  “I was hoping you would, actually,” he smiled. “I’ve been doing some more digging into Tiara’s dad’s disappearance and haven’t come up with anything,” he said, frowning as he dug his fork into his pie.

  “So we’re back at square one,” Marilyn commented, taking a sip of coffee from the mug that she’d brought with her when she’d heard that Bernard had come in.

  The detective put down his fork. “In a way, it’s worse than square one,” he mused.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, typically, when someone disappears from the island, we find that they’ve at least picked up transportation to the mainland and disappear when they get there. In Daniel’s case, there are no records of any attempts on his part to leave Key West. He didn’t even check out of his hotel,” he shrugged. “I don’t know what to make of it.”

  “Oh my, that doesn’t bode well for his safety and well-being,” Marilyn murmured, thinking about how crushed her daughter would be if it was determined that her father had been killed. “Have you tried talking to Captain Bob about it? I mean, he killed Daniel’s business partner and confessed to it…maybe he’d be able to tell you what happened to Daniel as well,” she suggested.

  “Captain Bob has apparently decided to stop speaking to anyone, and has gone on a hunger strike while he awaits trial. I don’t think there’s much hope there at the moment, but I’ve been keeping an eye on the situation. If he opens up and starts talking again, I’ll question him.”

  “Thank you so much, Bernard,” she said softly, touching his arm. “I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem. I just hope it turns out…positively,” his eyes were grave.

  “That makes two of us,” Marilyn agreed.

  “I know that I don’t have a handy excuse this time, but since it worked out so well last time, would you like to go to dinner tonight?” he asked, gazing at her with a slight smile.

  “I would love to,” she blushed.

  “Perfect,” he nodded, suddenly fascinated with his pie. “I’ll pick you up around 6:30, if that works, and make sure you dress casually,” he said mysteriously.

  “I’ll be ready,” she grinned, anticipation fluttering in her middle.

  The two chatted about local events while he finished his pie, and she walked him to the door when he was done, not wanting to see him go. She watched him walk to his car and waved as he drove away, not caring how smitten she might appear. His grin when he returned her wave allayed any concerns that she might have had, and she went back to the kitchen with a smile.

  **

  “Mom, can you and Kelcie handle closing today?” Tiara asked, shutting down the computer at the front counter. “I’d like to leave a little bit early.”

  “Really? Why? Everything okay?” Marilyn’s “mom radar” pinged instantly.

  “Yes, everything is fine,” her daughter laughed. “I just have a date tonight and I want to get ready for it, that’s all.”

  “Oh, how nice,” her mother was relieved. “Anyone I know?”

  Tiara sighed, deciding to be honest, and knowing that her mother would not be pleased. “Jace Chesterton, if you must know,” she said, grabbing a towel and a bottle of sanitizer and spraying down the counters.

  Marilyn bit back her automatic response, once again opting for diplomacy with her strong-willed daughter. “Ah, I see. Well, I trust you to make good decisions,” she said, leaving it at that. “I’d really like you to stay for your entire shift though, because I have a date as well, and if the three of us tackle closing, we’ll all be able to get out of here sooner,” she reasoned.

  Tiara stopped wiping the counters and stared at her mother. “And that has nothing to do with Jace? You’d still ask me to stay, even if some other guy had asked me out?” she demanded skeptically.

  “This isn’t personal, sweetie, it’s practical,” her mother sighed. “The more hands we have on deck, the sooner you and I can both go home and get ready. That’s all there is to it,” she assured her bristling daughter.

  “Mmhmm,” the young woman muttered, clearly not buying the explanation. “We could always close early you know,” she suggested.

  Marilyn took a breath, trying to keep a lid on the ire that was rising within her. Tiara had always been smart, capable and strong-willed, but she’d never been contrary and demanding like this, and it was trying her mother’s patience. “Sweetie, I did not get to the place where I am today by closing up early on a whim, for personal reasons. Emergencies are a different story, but closing early because we have dates? Sorry, that’s not going to happen,” she said, firmly but with love. “You’re the “numbers” girl…is that advice that you would give a successful business owner?” she challenged, appealing to her good sense.

  “You’re far enough into the black that closing early for one day certainly wouldn’t hugely impact your bottom line, Mom,” her daughter rolled her eyes.

  “And I fully intend to stay well into the black. I’ve worked too hard to become sloppy and complacent with my business practices now,” Marilyn insisted. “I would think that you, of all people, would appreciate that,” she raised an eyebrow.

  “Fine, whatever. I’ll stay,” she bit out, snatching the towel from the counter and flouncing back toward the kitchen, while her mother watched her go, more concerned than angry. If the personality change that had occurred in her daughter was a result of the company that she was keeping with Jace Chesterton, Marilyn hoped that he would soon tire of the Keys and go back where he came from.

  Chapter 9

  Marilyn surveyed her look in the mirror, finally at least partially satisfied that she looked good enough to go on a casual date with Bernard. Not knowing how casual she needed to be, she had opted for comfortable denim capris, and a gauzy, blaze-orange camisole with matching sandals and bracelet. Her hair was artfully tossed up into a ponytail, which she’d pulled through the back of her denim slouch cap.

  As excited as she’d been about her date with the handsome detective, her happiness had been a bit overshadowed by her worries over Tiara spending time with playboy, Jace Chesterton. She feared that her daughter, while smart and savvy, was in over her head with the overrated hipster celebrity. Slipping her cell phone into the pocket of her capris, Marilyn wanted to be accessible in case her daughter put out a distress call. Her heart skipped a beat
when she heard the doorbell ring, signaling that Bernard had arrived.

  “Wow, you look fantastic,” he greeted her when she opened the door.

  “You too,” she replied, meaning it. She had to try not to stare at the ruggedly attractive man standing on her porch in khaki shorts and a white polo. “So…where are we headed?” she asked, stepping out and shutting the door behind her.

  “How does a picnic on the beach sound?” he asked, tossing his car keys up in the air and catching them again.

  “Perfect,” Marilyn grinned. They stopped at his car to retrieve a picnic basket that he’d prepared, along with a beach blanket, and opted to walk.

  Talking about everything and nothing, and having a grand time, it took no time at all for them to reach their destination. Bernard set the large picnic basket down in the sand and spread out the blanket under a swaying palm. The subtle ocean breeze was cool and fragrant, and the setting sun was just beginning to flood the sky with vibrant pink, purple and fiery orange.

  “Wow, did you do all of this?” Marilyn asked, impressed when the detective began unloading delicious-looking dishes, plastic wine glasses and a bottle of Merlot from the basket.

  “Guilty,” he graced her with his dimples. “Cooking is one of my hobbies, it relieves stress,” he explained.

  “I completely understand,” she nodded. “I feel the same way about baking.”

  Handing her a plate, Bernard opened up the various containers that he’d brought, each dish looking more delicious than the last.

  “Okay, so this one is chicken bites with pesto, roma tomatoes and fresh mozzarella, this one is marinated asparagus…these are marinated olives, obviously, and I have some crab-stuffed mushrooms in the warmer,” he explained, unzipping a bag that was designed to keep hot items hot.

  “It looks and smells heavenly,” Marilyn exclaimed, her stomach growling.

  The both filled their plates and tore chunks from a baguette that he had brought along as well. They dug little cup-holders in the sand for their drinks, and reclined on the blanket, nibbling at the gourmet goodies that Bernard had provided.