Praise for Murder in Mariposa Beach
“Such a fantastic debut book for first-time author Teresa Michael! She’s got a new fan in me! I love her humor. Her characters are terrific! The mystery is solid and intriguing. And the chemistry between her hero and heroine are hotter than the coffee served at the heroine’s café. I cannot wait for the next book in this series!” --- D. D. Scott, International Bestselling Author
“MAGIC…Murder in Mariposa Beach is a wonderfully entertaining story with a perfect balance of mystery and romance. Once I started reading about Libby and her friend Pilar, I couldn’t put it down and read the entire book in one sitting. I told all of my family and friends to buy this book!!” --- Trish, Louisville, KY
“Kudos to Teresa Michael! MURDER AT MARIPOSA BEACH is an exciting read. Ms Michael combines a spunky heroine, a handsome detective, and a baffling murder; all set in the steamy Florida heat.” --- Judy T. Goodreads Reader
“Reading “Murder in Mariposa Beach" was like taking a thrilling trip in a tropical paradise. I hope to see more Libby (and Jack) adventures in the future.” --- Janet F., Goodreads member
“I find the book intriguing with its imaginative setting and colorful characters. An enjoyable read!” --- Pat M., Sarasota, Florida
“Teresa Michael has a way of catching your attention and luring you into each character in a unique way. She is one of those rare writers that can paint the picture and bring you into the scene with her attention to detail. Teresa’s ability to build the suspense and add the “twist” is amazing and thrilling. I look forward with anticipation the Mariposa sequel…” --- Sheila S., Bradenton, FL
Ms. Michael starts our mystery trip at the fantastic Mariposa Beach and goes straight to page-turning excitement. The imagery is so vibrant, and the dialogue so smooth, it is hard to believe this book is a freshman effort. Readers can clearly feel the sophistication of this accomplished, world traveling author. I am waiting for the sequel to Mariposa Beach like a kid waits for Christmas; and after that I will be looking forward to many more fun mysteries from the talented Ms. Michael. --- Sue G., Sarasota, Florida
"Murder in Mariposa Beach.....Small town murder creates big time adventure. Impossible to put down." --- P. Menard, member, Goodreads.com
Libby Marshall has one rule…She doesn’t date lawyers or cops.
A former prosecutor, Libby was once married to a lawyer, which about got her killed…literally. Witness Protection provided her with a new life, a new home and a new career as a coffee house and café owner in Southwest Florida. Instead of focusing on her espresso machine and scones, however, Libby finds herself in the middle of yet another murder investigation and involved with super-hot detective Jack Seiler. Will Jack make her consider breaking her rule a second time, and if she does, will she live through the consequences?
Murder in Mariposa Beach – Mariposa Café Mystery #1 – is Friends meets Miami Vice.
Welcome to the Mariposa Café Mystery Series where it’s all about fun Florida mysteries featuring fearless, female sleuths.
MURDER IN MARIPOSA BEACH
A Mariposa Café Mystery
Book 1
by
Teresa Michael
Copyright © 2018 by Teresa Michael. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.
First Electronic Edition: November 2018
eBook design & formatting by D. D. Scott’s LetLoveGlow Author Services
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Monday - Mariposa Beach, Florida
The Missed Appointment
Chapter 2
Monday Evening
The Investigation Begins
Chapter 3
Late Monday Night/Early Tuesday Morning
In the Dark of Night
Chapter 4
Tuesday Morning
Hot Coffee, Warm Scones and the Latest News
Chapter 5
Tuesday Afternoon - Sarasota, Florida
The County Morgue
Chapter 6
Tuesday Night
Open Mic Night
Chapter 7
Tuesday Night
Ham and Cheese on Rye and a Beer
Chapter 8
Wednesday Morning
Early Morning Customers
Chapter 9
Wednesday Morning
The Emergency Room
Chapter 10
Wednesday Afternoon
We Are Not Alone
Chapter 11
Wednesday Afternoon
An Old Friend
Chapter 12
Thursday – Mariposa Beach
Equipment Shopping
Chapter 13
Early Friday Morning
Company Can Be Tiresome
Chapter 14
Early Friday Morning
A Close Encounter
Chapter 15
Friday
A Spa Day
Chapter 16
Friday Afternoon
Breaking and Entering
Chapter 17
Friday Evening
Opening Night
Chapter 18
Saturday
The Mani-Pedi
Chapter 19
Sunday
Sunset Over the Gulf
Chapter 20
Monday Morning – Ft. Myers, Florida
The Slip
Chapter 21
Monday Morning – Gulf of Mexico
The Boat Ride
Chapter 22
Monday Afternoon – Key West
The Blue Pelican
Chapter 23
Monday Evening – Key West
The Band
Chapter 24
Monday Evening – Key West
A Moonlit Walk
Chapter 25
Monday Evening – Key West
The Call
Chapter 26
Tuesday – Key West
Wired
Chapter 27
Tuesday – Key West
Ocean is the Word
Chapter 28
Tuesday – Max Holden’s House – Key West
Pilar
Chapter 29
Tuesday – Max Holden’s House – Key West
The Take Down
Chapter 30
Tuesday - Lower Keys Medical Center Emergency Room
More Stitches and an Ex-Husband
Chapter 31
Tuesday Afternoon – Key West
The Flash Drive
Chapter 32
Wednesday Noon – Miami
A Little Pampering Can Do Wonders
Chapter 33
Wednesday Evening – Coral Gables
The Montoya’s Party
Chapter 34
Wednesday Evening – Coral Gables
The Payoff
Chapter 35
Wednesday Evening – Miami
Thanks, But No Thanks, for the Memories
Chapter 36
Thursday
The Red Sports Car
Chapter 37
Three Months Later
The Last Song
Mariposa Beach Café Recipes:
Mimi’s Cranberry-Orange Scones
Mariposa Café Chicken Andouille Gumbo
Note from the Author
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Books by Teresa Michael
Chapter 1
Monday - Mariposa Beach, Florida
Libby Marshall was worried.
Pilar Montoya was never late. In the year that Libby had been friends with her, Pilar had never been late for anything, not once. And she was the one who’d asked for this meeting.
Libby called her three times, but all three calls went to voicemail. After waiting for her for forty-five minutes at the bar of the nicest restaurant in town, Libby wondered if maybe Pilar had gotten caught up at work or was stuck on I-75, maybe with a dead phone and no charger. Otherwise, she definitely would have called her and let her know why she wasn’t there.
Unable to ignore her growling stomach any longer, Libby decided that, instead of waiting at The Jetty where her bar tab was already more than her dinner would be anywhere else, she’d leave and stop by Javier’s Pizza for a slice and a beer.
The traffic was slow on Beach Road, so Libby decided to cut through the neighborhood. As she sped by Pilar’s house, she slammed on her brakes, put her Jeep in reverse and backed up. Pilar’s red Mustang was sitting in the driveway. She never left her car in the driveway. She loved that car and always put it in the garage.
Was this second inconsistency in Pilar’s behavior a coincidence? Libby didn’t think so. She didn’t believe in coincidences. Unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong, she pulled into Pilar’s driveway.
She peeked into the Mustang and then walked up to Pilar’s front door. She could hear a faint hint of music inside.
“Pilar, are you in there?” She called as she rang the bell and tried the doorknob, finding it locked. Then, she pounded on the door.
She tried calling Pilar again, hearing her ringtone overlay the music coming from inside the house. After three rings, her voicemail picked up once again, her lilting voice with a soft hint of an accent saying, “Hi, this is Pilar. Leave a message, and I’ll call you back.” The recording repeated the same message in Spanish. Pilar still had family in Cuba. Libby hit the end button. She’d already left three messages.
She returned to the driveway, torn between going home and breaking into her friend’s house. She paced up and down between her Jeep and Pilar’s Mustang. As the setting sun shot golden rays across the horizon, she decided to check the back of the house for an alternative way inside.
She retrieved a Mag light from her glove compartment. Meeting her own hazel eyes in the rearview mirror, she replayed her last conversation with Pilar. She had called Libby at the café the afternoon before. Libby and her business partner, Mimi, owned the Mariposa Café, the only coffee shop and internet café in town.
Sundays were usually quiet, and Libby was working alone and couldn’t leave for dinner. Pilar said she needed to talk about another opportunity that required Libby’s full attention. Pilar was their sales representative when they had upgraded the wireless internet and computer equipment at the café. Even though Libby suspected Pilar was proposing additional equipment they really couldn’t afford, she jumped at the dinner invitation. Dinner at The Jetty was not in her budget except for very special occasions.
Now, though, a person who’s never late hadn’t shown up for a meeting she’d arranged. Same person, who always parked her car in her garage had left it in the driveway.
Libby was officially more than worried.
She removed an elastic hair band from around the gear shift of her Jeep and secured her long, curly, red locks into a high ponytail. Then she slipped out of her vehicle.
The sun was beginning to sink fast as she locked the door and put her keys and phone in her pants pockets. She hesitated for a moment as the fleeting thought of a night in an old warehouse when similar feelings of fear and anxiety overwhelmed her and shook her to her core. It was that night three years ago when, at the age of thirty-one, the course of her life changed and pointed her towards Florida.
Pushing those thoughts aside, she slipped around the side of the garage. She checked the car before trying the front door. Just like the car, she found the door locked. Instinctively, she pressed her back against the wall just in case there was someone inside. She turned on her flashlight and directed it toward the garage window. She stood on tiptoes and quickly leaned slightly forward to peek inside. Empty, and nothing of interest inside.
The humidity of the August evening was high, and she could feel sweat beading up on her forehead, upper lip and between her breasts. Her heart was racing as flashes of that similarly hot night years ago flooded her consciousness.
She leaned against the wall and thought about going back to her car and calling the police, but the image of Pilar lying inside, injured or worse, played through her mind and pushed her forward. She would call the police as soon as she had a look inside.
As the sun dropped below the horizon, she slipped around the side of the house where, inside the covered lanai, the swimming pool almost entirely consumed the small yard. Immediately to her left were sliding doors that led to the master bedroom suite. Libby had visited Pilar several times over the past few weeks and remembered how the house was laid out.
Inside the screen door, she swept her flashlight along the edges of the sliding doors. In the lower right corner, she noticed the blinds were bent and there appeared to be a dark streak on the glass. Blood?!
She focused the light on the gap in the blinds, but couldn’t see into the darkened room. Libby stood and jerked on the sliding door. Finding it locked, she moved on to the French doors that opened from the lanai into the living room. They were also locked.
Hoping that Pilar had taken the time to hide an extra key, Libby yanked up the doormats and chair cushions. She expanded her search to the flower pots on the far side of the pool, finally locating a key under a pot stuck in the furthest corner of the small garden. She inserted the key into the slot and felt the tumblers fall into place. Thank God.
As she stepped into Pilar’s home a blast of cold air hit her face as if opening the door to a meat locker. The living room was to her left. A wooden entertainment center flanked by bookshelves contained a large, flat-screen television. A stereo system played the soulful sax of light jazz. She felt for the light switch she thought was in the dining area to her right. Her fingers brushed against it, illuminating the room.
She found Pilar’s cell phone lying on top of a notepad on the corner of the bar that divided the kitchen from the living room. She pushed the button, lighting up the screen. There were eight missed calls and nine text messages. Apparently, a good number of people were trying to reach her.
She noticed handwriting on the notepad, so she carefully scooted the cell phone aside and saw 12:00 Sat written in what she thought was Pilar’s handwriting.
Glancing around the room, she saw pictures knocked over, books lying on the floor, some open and some upside down, as if they had been pulled off the shelves in a hurry. There were papers strewn across the floor, and a broken framed photograph of Pilar and two older adults lying face-up next to a chair. She assumed they were Pilar’s parents.
Someone must have been searching for something, she thought.
She noticed the bedroom door ajar and covered the space between the living room and bedroom in just a few steps. As she used her forefinger to push the door open a little wider, her heart was pounding.
With the blinds closed, the room was dark, so she stood in the doorway and shined her flashlight on the wall to her right looking for a light switch. With the dining room light at her back, she could see the unmade, queen-sized bed in shadow to her right.
She found the light switch and flipped it on. The low light on the nightstand dimly illuminated the room. Seeing blood spatter on the walls, vertical blinds and across the rumpled bed covers, she gasped. “What the hell?”
Her gaze came to rest on the bare feet of a body on the floor on the opposite side of the bed. Holy Mother of God.
Chapter 2
Mond
ay Evening
The Investigation Begins
Libby was pacing back and forth in Pilar’s driveway when the first police car pulled in behind Pilar’s Mustang. She was glad to see that Bobby James was the responding officer. He often stopped by the café during his shift, just to check in and have a cup of coffee.
“Libby, what’s going on here?” He asked, unfolding his long legs from behind the wheel of his squad car.
“There’s a dead man in Pilar’s house,” she blurted.
“What?” Bobby closed the car door. “A dead man?”
“It looks like his throat’s been cut.”
Bobby immediately called dispatch to send detectives, the crime scene unit and additional officers to help secure the area. Standing in the driveway, he took Libby’s preliminary statement.
“When Pilar didn’t show up, I thought she might have had an accident. But, all that blood...” She shook her head. “Normally, the worst thing I see is a kid at story hour puking up cookies and milk.”
“Have a seat, Libby,” Bobby said, opening her Jeep’s hatchback. “The detectives and crime scene guys should be here soon.”
Libby was on the phone with Mimi when a dark sedan jerked to a stop in front of the house, blocking the driveway. Mimi lived a few blocks away in the same neighborhood as Pilar and told Libby she was thinking of walking over to keep her company.