A Deadly Slice of Lime: A Key West Culinary Cozy - Book 6 by Summer Prescott Page A

parked car.
    “Well,
I guess that answers that question,” she smiled faintly with relief and
chagrin, her heart still thumping madly.
    She
turned right at the corner, headed for the beach access, and noted that there
were several streetlamps that were out of commission. Frowning, she switched
the flashlight app on her phone on, dimmed it a couple of notches, and pointed
it at the ground to light her path. It was more than unusual to see that type
of neglect on an island that took tremendous pride in the serene beauty of its
businesses, beaches and neighborhoods. She heard another sound, and whirled
around, her flashlight revealing the lurking presence of Melvin Bland,
Litigation Lizzie’s nephew, about six feet behind her and closing fast.
    “What
do you want?” she demanded, instantly on guard, and wishing that she’d thought
to bring her pepper spray keychain.
    “Thought
you’d get away with it, didn’t you?” he sneered, coming closer as Marilyn
unconsciously backed away, her flashlight shining in his eyes.
    “I
don’t know what you’re talking about, but you’d better just leave right now,”
she ordered, with far more confidence than she felt.
    “Do
you actually think that you’re in control of this situation?” he asked with a
sinister chuckle. “It seems to me that I have the upper hand here…how does that
feel?” Melvin stepped closer, his yellow teeth evident in his tight grin.
    Marilyn
could smell alcohol on his breath, and her heart pounded so hard that she was
certain he could hear it. Her scalp tingled with fear, and she continued to
back away slowly, her knees shaking. In the distance, a dog barked, and she
hoped against hope that its owner might look out of their window and intervene,
but so far, the only other sound in the night was the rasp of his breathing as
he advanced toward her. Security lights flipped on in a yard that they passed,
and both of them flinched when a figure popped out between two clumps of sea
grasses. Marilyn had never been so glad to see Tim Eckels in her entire life.
    “Control
is often an illusion,” the former mortician said cryptically, his coke-bottle
gaze fixed upon Melvin Bland.
    “What’s
it to you, Lurch?” Melvin challenged nastily.
    Tim
pushed his weighty glasses up his nose and stared at him, one eye twitching
slightly. “Alcohol can make you feel safe when you really aren’t,” he cocked
his head to the side, blinking rapidly.
    “Is
that a threat?” Melvin’s beady eyes narrowed, as though he were sizing up his
strange opponent.
    “Merely
a factual observation,” Tim replied mildly.
    Marilyn
decided it was time to break in. “Look, Mr. Bland, I don’t know what you’re
doing out here, and I really don’t care, but you need to go away and leave me
alone,” she commanded, feeling much better, but still not out of the woods,
because of her neighbor’s presence.
    “Don’t
you even think about telling me what to do,” Melvin hissed, stepping toward
her.
    Tim
moved faster than Marilyn had ever seen him do, and inserted himself firmly
between her and the aggressor, facing Melvin.
    “Go
home please, Marilyn,” he said calmly, never taking his eyes off of Melvin
Bland.
    Thankful
for his intervention, but now worried about her neighbor, Marilyn took off for
home at a fast trot, dialing Bernard’s number as she went.
     

Chapter 14
    Marilyn
went next door with a freshly made Key Lime pie, and knocked on the mahogany
carved door tentatively. Tim opened it immediately, as though he’d been
standing on the other side of it, watching her approach. When she’d asked
Detective Cortland this morning about what had happened between the two men
after she left, he’d said that Melvin Bland denied ever having left his aunt’s
house, and Tim had given some obscure statement about the nature of fairness in
the universe.
    “Hello,”
she said, trying out a smile when he opened the door. “I just wanted to thank
you for helping me last night,” she