Death, Limes and Videotape: A Key West Culinary Cozy - Book 7 Page 5

  “You smug, sorry little weasel,” she spat. “You breeze into town, make a nuisance of yourself everywhere you go, singlehandedly try to turn my brilliant, educated daughter into a raging alcoholic, and dare to come into my shop and attempt to dictate terms for a bribe to me? You must be out of your mind! You’re going to get out of my shop right now, or I swear to you, I will come out from behind this counter and bodily throw you out,” Marilyn seethed.

  Jace chuckled nastily. “So you’re taking the hard road,” he nodded. “Take a look around you, you ancient crone, because very soon, your beloved little pie hovel is going to be history,” he surveyed the shop, pursing his lips. “Shame. It could’ve been cool seeing how you handled all the new business that would’ve been coming in. Your loss, hagatha,” he sneered.

  Marilyn flushed bright red with anger, all the way to the tips of her ears. “Get. Out,” she ordered between tightly clenched teeth.

  Jace raised his eyebrows, looking at her like she was less than pond scum, and slowly turned to go. “I’m not scared of you, old prune,” he drawled, swaggering out the door.

  “You should be,” she called after him, furious. Kelcie had watched the entire exchange, wide-eyed.

  Chapter 12

  Tiara leaned her head into her hands, still feeling puny at dinner time, the day after her wild night in Jace’s RV.

  “I know, Mom, I was stupid,” she muttered, sitting across the kitchen table from her mother, idly stirring a spoon in the homemade chicken soup that Marilyn kept on hand in the freezer in case of infirmity.

  “Sweetheart, you are anything but stupid, we both know that,” her mother replied gently, knowing that she’d catch more flies with honey. “You just made some poor decisions – we all do that – and as long as you’ve learned from your mistakes, that’s the end of it,” she patted her daughter’s hand with loving reassurance.

  “Oh I learned alright, and humiliated myself in the process,” Tiara said bitterly, her eyes filling with tears of shame and regret.

  “Oh, honey, that slimy little overrated hack is nothing but a flash in the pan. No one who knows and loves you will give a flying fig what he thinks or says about you or the shop,” Marilyn asserted firmly.

  “The shop?” her daughter raised her head. “Mom, please don’t tell me that you cancelled his vlog review,” her eyes were wide with something akin to fear. “He’ll bury us,” she whispered.

  “Malarkey,” her mother dismissed the notion. “I told him where he could put his precious vlog. The smug little twerp tried to bully me into giving him free pie whenever he wanted it. He said he’d trash us in a review if we didn’t,” she fumed.

  “Oh no,” Tiara muttered, grabbing Marilyn’s Ipad out of her kitchen desk drawer. “Oh jeez, Mom,” she moaned when the device booted up and she logged on to Jace’s website.

  “What?” Marilyn was puzzled.

  “Look,” her daughter sighed, turning the device so that she could see the screen. The entire exchange between her mother and Jace Chesterton, with the exception of his attempt at a bribe, had been filmed without her permission. The stern-faced woman came across as harsh, combative and unreasonable, while Jace appeared smiling and cool as a cucumber.

  “He had no right to film me without my permission,” Marilyn was aghast. “The editing they’ve done makes me look like an out of control shrew,” she frowned. “Well, I’m sure no one will care to watch this nonsense.”

  Tiara shook her head. “Actually, the paperwork that I signed gave him permission, and there have been thousands of views already. His followers are loyal. It wouldn’t surprise me if we don’t have many customers tomorrow,” she said quietly. “I’m so sorry, Mom,” the strong young woman began to cry.

  “Hey,” her mother soothed, wiping away the tears. “There’s no reason to freak out about this, honey. Most of the folks who live in and visit Key West are part of a generation that doesn’t pay much attention to social media and vlogs and whatever,” Marilyn said, her lack of technological know-how readily apparent. “We’ll be fine. Even if there’s a short-term dip in sales, people have short memories – we’ll recover our numbers in no time,” she brushed a stringy lock of hair back from her daughter’s forehead.

  “I hope you’re right,” Tiara choked out, shaking her head.

  “Of course I am. I’ve survived a long time in this business, and I’m not about to let some smarmy young man take me out of the game,” she said with fierce determination. “Now, why don’t you go take a nice hot bath, and I’ll reheat your soup for you,” she encouraged, her maternal instincts on high alert.

  Marilyn kept her daughter company the rest of the evening, making sure that she ate all of her soup and insisting that she spend the night. After the exhausted young woman went to bed, she stayed up, indulging in a slice of Key Lime pie and reflecting upon how strange life can be sometimes. She had a successful business, a bright and beautiful daughter, who, despite having learned some tough lessons, was sure to be successful in her own right, and had gone on a couple of dates with a man so wonderful that he seemed too good to be true. On the other hand, her ex-husband and Tiara’s father was missing, her business might be on the verge of taking a major hit due to the bad publicity that Jace Chesterton was generating, and her sunshiny escape to paradise was suddenly plagued by clouds of doubt.

  Just as her thoughts were taking a morose turn, her phone rang. Seeing Cort’s number on the screen, her heart sped up a bit and she smiled faintly as she answered.

  “Hi Cort,” she said, happy to hear from him.

  “Hi Marilyn,” he responded, his voice sounding somber. “Is Tiara at home?”

  “She’s here,” she replied, a feeling of dread springing up in her midsection. “Why?”

  “Well, that’s good news. We just had a report that Jace Chesterton is missing, and I was hoping that she wasn’t with him,” he explained.

  Marilyn closed her eyes in a moment of relief. She would never have believed that a wretched hangover would have been a saving grace, but if it had kept her precious daughter away from even worse peril, it may have been just that.

  “Oh, okay. Well, I’m relieved to say that, thankfully she wasn’t with him tonight.”

  “Good. Listen, I need to get going, but I’d like to take you sailing this weekend if you’re up for it,” he asked quickly, sounding as though he wanted to get off of the phone in a hurry.

  “That sounds great,” Marilyn smiled. “Call me when you have the details.”

  “Will do,” the detective rung off.

  Pushing the End button on her phone, Marilyn took another bite of pie and chewed slowly, staring into space, thankful that her daughter was safe and sound upstairs, and wondering what might have happened to Jace Chesterton. She was briefly embarrassed about the fact that for a moment, when she heard about the blogger’s disappearance, she’d felt satisfied that perhaps karma had struck, and the insufferable lad was getting what he deserved. It didn’t take long though, before her generous nature had her honestly hoping that nothing truly bad had happened. The best of all possible outcomes would be if he finally learned a lesson in humility and renounced his hedonistic lifestyle, so that innocent people like Tiara wouldn’t be crushed by him.

  Chapter 13

  “Welcome back, we missed you,” Kelcie gave Tiara a hug when she came into SubLime Sweets, rested and ready to work.

  “Thanks,” she smiled, slightly embarrassed. “I’m sorry you guys had to handle everything without me.”

  “No biggie,” the assistant replied. “It just made us appreciate you even more,” she grinned, heading for the kitchen.

  Since Tiara had returned, and life at the shop was back to normal, from a staffing standpoint, Marilyn and Kelcie planned to work ahead on the baking and prep work. The two dove in and produced an abundance of sweet treats, with time flying by so fast that neither of them realized that it was lunch hour.

  “Wow,” Tiara commented, coming back to the kitchen. “
You guys really outdid yourselves.” The kitchen was filled with trays of pies, tarts, bars, cupcakes, pastries and more. “Can someone come babysit the front while I eat my sandwich?”

  “Sure,” Marilyn answered, more than happy with their progress in the kitchen. “Just let me put these trays away,” she gestured toward the treats. “I’ll be right out. Has it been busy?”

  Her daughter’s look answered the question before she did. “No,” she replied glumly. “Our regulars have been in, but I haven’t seen hardly any new traffic,” she lamented.

  “Ms. Hayes, if you want to go up front, I’ll put the trays away,” Kelcie broke in, uncomfortable with the direction that the conversation was heading. She’d seen the video, but was uncertain as to whether or not Marilyn and Tiara had.

  “Sure, Kelcie, that would be great,” she smiled faintly, clearly distracted, and Tiara slipped away to the break room to eat her lunch.

  Marilyn had only been manning the front counter for a few minutes when the bell over the door jangled. She was surprised when she looked up and saw two grim-faced Key West police officers heading her way.

  “Good afternoon, officers. What can I do for you?” she asked with a professional smile, thinking that they looked like they were in desperate need of dessert.

  “Are you Ms. Marilyn Hayes?” the taller of the two asked.

  “Yes, I am,” she replied, puzzled.

  “We’re going to need you to come with us down to the station for questioning,” the lantern-jawed cop informed her.

  “What? Why?” her confusion turned to alarm in a heartbeat.

  “We have reason to believe that you may have information regarding the murder of Jace Chesterton.”

  “Murder?” she exclaimed. “I thought that he was just missing?”

  “Come with us ma’am,” the other officer spoke up.

  “Okay, no problem, just let me grab one of the girls to stay up front,” she murmured.

  “I’ll accompany you,” the first officer said flatly. It wasn’t a request.

  “That’s fine,” she nodded. “It’ll just take a minute.” The officer followed close behind as she went to the kitchen.

  “Kelcie, I’m going to need you to cover the front until Tiara is done with lunch,” she told her wide-eyed assistant, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked softly, staring at the policeman behind her boss.

  “It will be, sweetie. I’m just going to go to the police station to clear some things up. If I’m not back before closing, make sure that Tiara takes the deposit bag to the bank, okay?”

  Kelcie nodded mutely, trailing behind them when they headed back toward the front of the shop.

  Marilyn had never sat in the back of a police cruiser before, and to her untrained nose, it smelled of pain and desperation. Her insides quivered as she tried to maintain a calm façade.

  “Will I be speaking with Detective Cortland?” she asked timidly, receiving nothing but stony silence from the uniforms in the front seat. Sighing, she sat back, wondering why on earth the police would want to talk to her. She was certain that there were any number of people who would have reasons to want to eliminate Jace Chesterton. He seemed to either inspire adulation or contempt.

  Upon arriving at the police station, instead of being escorted to Cort’s office, she was taken to an interrogation room, told to have a seat in one of the uncomfortable-looking plastic chairs and told to wait.

  “We’ll be with you shortly,” the tall officer informed her, closing the door behind him, leaving her alone in the room that was sparsely furnished with three chairs and a chipped formica-topped table, and featured an entire wall of one-way glass. She looked at the glass, wondering who, if anyone, was behind there, watching her.

  A rotund man in an ill-fitting brown polyester suit came in carrying a file folder and took the seat across from her.

  “Ms. Hayes, I’m Detective Donald Ferguson, and I have a few questions for you if you don’t mind,” he introduced himself pleasantly enough.

  “Certainly, Detective,” Marilyn nodded. “I’ll help in any way that I can.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” he nodded and pushed wire-rimmed glasses up his nose. He carefully opened the file folder, which he held up at an angle, making it impossible for Marilyn to see the contents. “Let’s get started.”

  “How long have you known Jace Chesterton?” he asked mildly, pen poised.

  “Let’s see…I think it’s been two, maybe three weeks. He took my daughter’s yoga class and found out that I owned a pie shop, so he offered to do a vlog review for us,” she explained.

  “Did that interview ever take place?”

  “No.”

  “Why is that?” he sat forward expectantly.

  “Well, there are a few reasons actually. I’m certainly no fan of his…” she began truthfully.

  “Really? Why is that?” he interrupted, his demeanor becoming a bit less cordial.

  Marilyn paused, now wondering if she should have been so candid. “Because I felt that he lived irresponsibly, he was smug and arrogant, and was a negative influence for my daughter and a bunch of other young Key West women.”

  The detective raised an eyebrow and nodded. “What else?”

  “Well, he’d never had Key Lime pie before, so I didn’t even know if he’d like it, and I didn’t want to have any bad publicity just because his palate wasn’t familiar.”

  “So you wanted to prevent a bad review from being released?” he summed up.

  “Exactly.”

  “Anything else?” he probed, pushing his glasses up again. Even in the air conditioning, his face had a sheen of perpetual perspiration.

  “Well, I hate to say it…but, he tried to bribe me,” she admitted.

  “Bribe you? How?”

  “He told me that he would give my pie a great review as long as I promised to supply him with free pie whenever he wanted, and that he would trash me online if I didn’t agree to his terms.”

  “When did that conversation take place?” Detective Ferguson’s mustache twitched slightly.

  “Yesterday.”

  “Yesterday? Around what time?”

  “Let’s see…it was just before closing, so I want to say it must’ve been somewhere between 4:30 and 5:00,” she frowned, remembering.

  “How was the conversation resolved?”

  “I told him to leave and I refused to let him do the interview,” Marilyn replied quietly.

  “And what was his reaction?” Ferguson pressed.

  “He seemed like he was angry, but trying not to show it. He called me some unflattering names and left when I told him to,” she shrugged.

  “So you threw him out,” the detective clarified.

  “Well, not bodily, but I did tell him to leave, yes,” she nodded.

  “What did you do after he left?”

  “Kelcie, my assistant, and I closed the store, and I went home to check on my daughter,” Marilyn explained, hoping that he wouldn’t ask questions about Tiara.

  “Did you go straight from your shop to your home?”

  “Yes.”

  “And did you make any stops along the way?”

  “No.”

  “And did you leave your home at any time during the evening?”

  “No.”

  “Were you alone?”

  “No, I said that I was checking on my daughter. She was at my house because she wasn’t feeling well, so I asked her to stay the night,” Marilyn reminded him.

  “Is there anyone else who knew that you were at home?” he persisted.

  “I spoke with my neighbor, Tim Eckels, briefly, and I had a phone call from Detective Cortland,” she replied.

  Ferguson seemed to flinch a bit when she mentioned Bernard, but didn’t ask her to elaborate, thankfully. He asked her for contact info for Tim and she gave him the address, but didn’t know the phone number. After a few more follow-up questions, he released her, with a warn
ing that they’d be bringing her in for more questioning at a later date.

  The weather was beautiful, and she didn’t feel like talking to anyone, so, rather than calling Tiara for a ride home, she walked toward her refuge, the beach.

  Chapter 14

  Marilyn tossed her phone onto the counter in frustration. She’d called and texted Cort several times without any sort of response from him. Wracking her brain to try and figure out what she’d done wrong, she kept coming up blank. Their last conversation had been pleasant, and he had asked her out, but never followed up with a call detailing the plan for their date. Realistically speaking, though, her relationship, or lack thereof, with the handsome detective was the least of her worries at the moment.

  Business at the shop had dropped off so profoundly that it wouldn’t take long before she had to operate at a loss, and if the current trend continued, she’d have no choice but to let Kelcie go, a thought that broke her heart. As it was, she was considering cutting her hours of operation, or closing on certain days of the week. Tiara had been quiet and distant, blaming herself for ever having gotten involved with Jace Chesterton, and the overall mood in the cute, cozy little shop had been one of dismal defeat ever since Marilyn had been taken to the police station.

  Hearing a plaintive meow at the back door, she rose from her seat at the breakfast bar in her kitchen to go let Fluffy, the grey tabby that Tiara had rescued, in from outside. Opening the door, she jumped backward, startled that her neighbor, Tim, was standing there behind Fluffy. The cat raced into the house and dove under the couch, and Marilyn stood with her hand over her thumping heart.

  “Goodness gracious, Tim!” she exclaimed impatiently. “What are you doing lurking about back here?”