Devilish, Devious, and Deadly with One Bite: A Lilly M. Mystery

By Kathryn Long

“I didn’t have time to mope. We had a criminal or two to catch, a murder rap to solve, and an ex fiancé to save.” – Lilly Millenovanovich.

Rescue ex fiancé, Jake Kline. Save pastry chef, Audrey Willow. That’s the plan. Mystery author, Lilly Millenovanovich finds herself up to her ears in mayhem and mischief in this latest caper. After receiving a phone call from professional hit lady, Brooke Williams, Lilly’s life moves from hometown Barton, Ohio to the Gulf coast of Florida. Brooke claims to have Lilly’s best friend and ex fiancé, Jake Kline under lock and key. Her directions are very clear: if Lilly wants to save Jake, come to Florida and do what Brooke asks, no matter what that is.

As if that wasn’t enough on her plate, Lilly is drawn into helping Aunt Sadie’s friend and pastry chef, Audrey Willow, prove she really didn’t poison a food critic with her famous chocolate dessert. Or did she? Lilly manages a skilled but somewhat haphazard juggling act to work at finding the real killer while trying to avoid provoking Jake’s captor from sending him to the bottom of the ocean. Both old friends and enemies enter the picture. Like Latin dreamboat, Agent Nick Galina, who stirs up emotions Lilly would like to avoid. And Mexican crime boss, Carlos Ruido, who manages to be the center of all Lilly’s problems. Of course, it wouldn’t be any fun without throwing an aunt or three into the mix, along with their quirky, zany behaviors.

Will Lilly rescue Jake? Will she prove Audrey Willow didn’t commit murder? Devilish, Devious, and Deadly with One Bite will serve a tantalizing, scrumptious story with all the answers in this third installment of the Lilly M Mysteries.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kathryn Long
• Release date: Mar 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311936806

Kathryn Long

Kathryn Long is a native Ohioan, born and raised in Barberton, the "Magic City". She is the youngest of five children, although the closest sibling in age is a brother sixteen years her senior. Being raised like an only child, Kathryn found reading and writing as favorable forms of entertainment. In high school as a member of the Writers' Club, she continued to nurture her writing talent.After high school Kathryn attended and graduated from the University of Akron with a BA degree in French. Before marriage and children the author managed a Waldenbooks store and continue writing short stories and song lyrics as a hobby. In 1987 she returned to school for a Bachelor's in Education. She has been an employee of the Green Local School system since 1990 and currently teaches SLD students at the high school.Writing took a more serious turn a few years ago as Kathryn completed her first novel-length work and discovered that mystery was her nitch. Early on, determined to improve her craft, she developed a habit of spending most of her free time in the summer and on weekends during the school year, writing story after story. Mystery merged with the color of Native American culture to create Oklahoma's Gold and A Pleasant View. Venturing into cozy mysteries and romantic suspense writing, Kathryn has created three novels with the cozy, Whips, Cuffs, and Little Brown Boxes; a romantic suspense, A Deadly Deed Grows; and the recently completed, Dying to Dream, another romantic suspense.Kathryn has also written short stories, two of which are published in The Piker Press: "A Good Man" and "Betrayal in a Letter". She also has ventured into the young adult genre, writing the modern-day fairytale, Cinderella Geek, under the pen name, K. Sean Jennkrist.Keeping connected is an important element of writing. Staying in tune with what goes on in the writing world and being visible are reasons why Kathryn is a member of Sisters in Crime and maintains a blogsite - Writers & Teachers as well as a facebook page.

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Prologue

Apalachicola Gazette – Saturday October 8, 2012.

Renowned food critic, Clive Monk, age fifty-three, died Friday doing what he loved. Monk had been invited to a private event where two famous culinary divas – international chef, Simone Bolivar, and pastry chef extraordinaire, Audrey Willow, prepared him a dinner and dessert to die for, literally. It was after devouring Willow’s delectable chocolate cake topped with her signature blackberry sauce that Monk fell to the floor, convulsing. Paramedics arrived within five minutes, but were unable to revive the critic. Though the official medical report won’t be released for several days, this reporter spoke to Willow’s assistant who strongly believes it was not an accident. She states it’s well-known in culinary circles that Audrey Willow and Clive Monk are, or were, enemies. She added, Audrey Willow won’t shed one tear over Clive’s demise.

Chapter 1

Monday October 10th 9:00 pm:

I took the envelope inside, sat down to open it, and looked at a airline ticket. The destination was Miami, Florida. While I puzzled over its implication, my phone rang. Not recognizing the number, I almost didn't answer, but a feeling nudged me to do so.

Hello? I continued staring at the ticket, puzzling over questions of why and who.

Hello Lilly. It's so good to hear your voice. How have you been?

Who is this?

I hope you like Florida. It's pleasant this time of the year.

I felt myself tense, hearing the British accent. I didn't have to make much of a leap to guess who I was talking to. In a flash, the memory of my psychic vibe came back to me, the one I warned Kline about. What do you want, Brooke?

I want you to use the ticket. I want you to come to Florida.

Why should I? The sense of panic threatened to overwhelm me and destroy any chance at remaining calm and rational.

"Quite simple, dear. If you don't, your boyfriend becomes a dead friend. And I'm sure you don't want that to happen, do you?"

If you hurt him …

Just get on the plane, tonight, and you won't have to worry. And Lilly? It would be a mistake to call him.

Monday October 10th 11:00 pm:

You can’t go, Aunt Sadie. That’s final, I argued. The conversation or should I say bickering had gone on for nearly a half hour. I needed to leave soon, get on a plane to Florida to face whatever Brooke had planned for me. With Jake’s life in the balance, I couldn’t afford to take chances. Besides, Sadie’s story sounded as ridiculous and insane as her personality tended to be.

I’m telling you, I’m going. If Audrey Willow needs my help, then I can’t refuse, can I?

I’m sure Miss Willow has plenty of money to hire all the legal assistance she needs. What can you possibly do, anyway? I felt exasperated to the point of hanging up on her. And I would never dare to hang up. She scared me too much.

She needs my moral support.

Look. I realize a person doesn’t get charged with murder every day, and I’m sure if she’s that close of a friend, then she would most definitely appreciate your emotional support. But you can’t travel with me.

I don’t see why not. I call you late at night, asking for your help, and you tell me you’re getting ready to make an emergency trip to Florida, which is exactly where I need to go. That’s fate. Can’t ignore that.

I groaned. Why did I have to be born into a family of obstinate people? I’m going to hang up now. For your own good, Aunt Sadie, take a later flight without me. Take Aunt Irene or Aunt Fran with you. They’d be great company. It just can’t be me. With that, I ended the call and turned my phone off.

I gathered my overnight case and purse. I’d already left Lou, my maltipoo, with my neighbor Mrs. Tenny. If I had asked anyone in the family, even my cousin and best friend, Mona, it would raise too many questions. Of course, that problem had occurred already with the phone call from Aunt Sadie.

I had to admit, the situation had curious written all over it. Audrey Willow, nationally known pastry chef, had been charged with murder. If the matter wasn’t so serious, it would make you laugh at the irony. Her sponsors referred to Audrey’s desserts with the motto, Willow’s Desserts -- delectable, delicious, and simply to die for. And somebody did. One of the food critics had eaten her chocolate fudge cake topped with a blackberry sauce that turned out not to be made from blackberries. The story, as Sadie heard it from her friend, was that Audrey had used berries from the deadly nightshade plant, more commonly known as belladonna. Eating a dozen or so berries can kill an adult. Within minutes, the food critic was on the floor, convulsing, and the paramedics didn’t have any chance of saving him. The toxicology report, which was rushed through over the weekend by court order from an eagerly ambitious judge up for re-election, showed the victim had died of heart failure due to toxic levels of the poisonous plant. Straight out of a gothic murder mystery, I thought.

For the sake of argument, authorities could have kept an open mind to include others in their investigation. The problem was this particular food critic, Clive Monk, had written several reviews on Audrey’s confectionary goodies that weren’t very complimentary. This gave Audrey motive. At least in their minds it tied the case up in a neat and tidy package.

Aunt Sadie swore that the Audrey she knew and loved would never do such a thing. She took the utmost pride in her baking. If someone didn’t like one of her confectionary goodies she’d study the matter and see whether there was a valid reason for the criticism. If so, then she’d explore ways to improve her recipe. But murder? Sadie just wouldn’t believe it. After all, she’d known Audrey since they’d attended a baking convention nearly twenty years ago. Since then, they’d stayed in touch, visited each other every so often, and shared baking secrets. Sadie claimed Audrey was like the daughter she never had. If anyone could guess what Audrey would or wouldn’t do, I’d wager Sadie knew best.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have the time to give her. All my attention had to be for Jake. His life depended on it. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what Brooke was up to, but most assuredly it was plenty dangerous. And probably it had to do with murder since that was her profession. She killed people for a living. In fact, that’s how she met Jake.

When Jake lived in Arizona, beginning his career as a cop, he met Brooke Williams, aka hit lady for the underworld crime element. Unaware of her sordid history, Jake fell in love and married her, only to have it all come crashing down during a fatal shootout orchestrated by none other than Brooke. Kline lost a partner and his so-called wife in one instant. I sighed. So, here she was, again, using Kline and me as pawns in some wicked, dangerous game. And there was nothing I could do to stop her.

I had thought about calling Detective Grezzo several times after my conversation with Brooke. He and Kline and I had history together. Grezzo often claimed he considered Jake like his own son. He’d give his life to save Jake. But I couldn’t take the chance. Brooke would sniff the odor of conspiracy and then Kline would turn up dead. She was that good.

So, I was on my own, at least for now. I’d keep that option open in case I needed it. I suspected Brooke would play dirty. Why shouldn’t I?

I boarded the plane and decided to allow no more time for playing out events in my mind. I needed rest for the challenging ordeal ahead. I owed Jake Kline, former fiancé and still great friend, that much.

Chapter 2

Apalachicola, Florida, early morning, Tuesday October 11th:

I took my place on the exit ramp. The warm and muggy night air enveloped me and caused a sweat. I noticed everyone on the ground wore skimpy t-shirts and shorts. I shed the sweater I’d put on before leaving the cool October evening back home in Barton, Ohio. I searched for any vacant cab ready to transport passengers to their destinations. It took all of ten seconds for one to pull up beside me.

You look like you need a lift to a nice hotel for some rest and relaxation. I’d suggest the Oasis.

I eyed the cabbie with skepticism. He seemed a bit too eager, but then again my paranoia was working overtime. Brooke wouldn’t have sent someone in the guise of cab driver to meet me. I nodded. As long as it’s close and reputable.

You got it. The Oasis is just down the block. It’s a bit average, but real clean. He looked at me with the question in his eyes.

Sounds good. I got in and settled back into my seat. It only took five minutes to get there. I moaned at the interruption to the rest my body really begged for. I handed the cabbie his fare and he handed me an envelope. My forehead wrinkled in confusion.

Lady with nice legs and dark hair told me to give it to you.

I looked down at the envelope and thought for a moment. But how did you know she meant me? I studied his face.

She showed me a photo of you and told me to take you here. Say, look. Don’t get rattled at me. I’m just the go between, okay? You have a nice visit. With that, the cabbie drove away.

I stayed at the curb and opened the envelope, too curious to wait.

Lilly, I want you to tell the concierge that you have a reservation for room 325. Don’t worry. The bill has been paid. When you get inside the room, you’ll find further directions taped to the back of the nightstand.

I scratched underneath my chin and digested the new information, including my hunch about the cabbie. Guess my radar is working after all. I picked up my overnight bag and purse, tucked the envelope inside one of the pockets, and headed for the hotel lobby. I couldn’t help but shift my eyes from side to side, worried that someone was watching me, someone like Brooke.

Once I had my key card in hand, I took the elevator up to the third floor. I had to give her credit. Brooke spared no expense. I had the best room in the place, a suite with a king sized bed, Jacuzzi, and a fridge stocked full of goodies, including a varied assortment of beverages. Too bad I didn’t have time or felt in the mood to enjoy it all. Such a waste.

I dropped my bag on the bed and pulled the nightstand away from the wall. I removed a thickly padded envelope from the back and examined the message taped to the outside.

Take this to the St. Margolis hotel at exactly five this afternoon. Give it to the body guard dressed in a blue suit and blue ball cap. He will be waiting outside on the front entrance stairs. Wear a red blouse – I know you packed one. It’s your favorite color. The guard has been instructed to watch for a woman wearing red. Don’t screw this up! If you ever want to see Jake alive, that is.

I read the message aloud and then again to myself. I felt the package, pressing it with my fingers. I couldn’t help but guess what it contained was money, and lots of it.

My stomach gurgled with such force that I thought I might hurl. You better appreciate this, Jake Kline, I muttered and lay the package down on the nightstand. I felt agitated as I pulled the red blouse out of my bag, along with a red bra and red shoes. Though I realized somebody in her profession would have keen observation skills, it still seemed like I’d been violated. I doubted that even Jake knew red was my favorite color.

A glance at the clock showed me I had almost sixteen hours before I needed to leave for the St. Margolis and deliver the package. I stared longingly at the bed with my heavy, red-rimmed eyes that hadn’t seen rest in more than a day. Without deliberation, I sank down on the soft and silky sheets. Only seconds later I succumbed to the quiet rhythm of sleep.

St. Margolis Hotel, 5:00 pm:

I sat in the rental. It was nondescript, mid-sized, beige colored, and I’m-not-sure what make or model car that I’d picked up before heading to the St. Margolis. This wasn’t part of Brooke’s instructions, but that’s why it seemed like a smart thing to do. I didn’t know whether the body guard was expecting me to arrive in a cab, more specifically, the cab driven by my cabbie messenger. I wanted some element of surprise. Besides, right now I had the advantage of watching and observing.

Within a minute or two I spotted him. The body guard. Blue suit, blue cap, and very muscular, he would probably know how to take the upper hand if I got anywhere near him. He stayed on the top step. I noticed his head moved from side to side, perusing the hotel grounds. I did the same. And that’s when I noticed. Total surprise left me with my mouth hanging open.

On the balcony of a second floor room stood two women, one older than the other, or at least she appeared that way with her snow white hair. The other one had bright red, long and wavy locks. Yet the one detail that really caught my attention and sent my radar soaring was the dress of the older woman. I knew that dress. I had bought that dress as a Christmas gift last year.

Aunt Sadie, I exclaimed breathlessly.

Chapter 3

My hands trembled as I gripped Brooke’s package. In the next instant I gasped as an image flashed in my mind. A sharp pain in my head quickly followed and I grimaced. My hands let go of the package and came up to rub my eyes. My fingers dug deep, trying to send the pain away. Oh boy, not now.

I have this psychic thing, weird vibes showing me images or words. And sometimes, they actually give me hints to what I am looking for. However, most times they come out like mumbo jumbo, scrambled words that only confuse matters. They didn’t happen as often any longer, which Irene, Jake and many others were grateful for since they figured the absence of them kept me out of trouble. I certainly didn’t miss them and always prayed they would stop all together. But now …

Read between the lines, I said the message aloud. It meant nothing, yet bothered me all the same. I looked down to study the package in my lap. A sudden urge made me rip open the envelope. Sure enough, the padded thickness revealed a rather large stack of hundred dollar bills. Atop them was a note. My hands still trembled as they struggled to unfold it.

Follow these directions carefully. Make sure the authorities and press don’t spot you. You need to act quickly, before they decide to arrest her. Take her to Saint Joseph Park on the Cape. Be there at midnight. After you park, walk to the wooden trail sign. We’ll be there waiting.

I read the note over, again and again. I was missing something, something important. Something … between the lines, that’s it! I exclaimed. Why else would Brooke caution against the press and the authorities and an arrest? Why would they and the press be watching the body guard’s target? Unless the target was a person of interest in a murder investigation. I smiled. Audrey Willow. Unless another person of interest that cops and press wanted was staying here, who else could it be?

I opened my car door inch by slow inch, thankful that the hotel front spilled over with a crowd of guests arriving for check-in. I could blend. Right? I scowled as my eyes fell to rest on the red blouse adorning me, like a neon beacon. Fortunately, I had a sweater; one of those just-in-case thoughts prompted me to bring it along. And it was black.

My arm reached back inside to grab it. I slipped it on and buttoned up, making sure no speck of red showed. Waiting until another group of guests arrived in the next airport shuttle, I then rushed out to merge with the crowd.

Tempting though it was, I refused to turn my head toward the body guard as we passed by him. If I had any luck at all today, he would keep his eyes focused on the road and parking lot, and I’d be in the clear. I didn’t realize until we stood inside the main lobby that I’d been holding my breath. I let it out in one long sigh.

You okay, ma’am?

Huh? I turned to see a young man, probably just past nineteen, wearing a hotel labeled jacket. He studied me with concern. I smiled. Oh, no. It’s nothing. Just something I ate. I rubbed my stomach. That did it. All things digestive made younger people uneasy. In any case, he nodded and took several steps to the side.

Making my move, I took the nearest elevator. On the way up, I punched in Sadie’s number on my phone. A second later I heard the click.

Hello? Lilly, is that you? Sadie answered.

Hi, Aunt Sadie. How are things back in Barton? I so enjoyed moments like this.

Ah, well, you see it’s like this, she started, but then paused.

It’s okay, Aunt Sadie. I already know you’re in Florida. In fact … I waited as the elevator door opened and I stepped out onto the second floor. In fact, I’m in your hotel right at this very moment. Can you believe it? Now, tell me which room you’re in. Or should I say the room you and Audrey are in so I can explain a few things. Then you can explain some. You know how it goes. I stood there and waited.

Room 215.

That’s all she said before I heard the click ending the call. All righty then. I shoved my phone in my pocket and headed to the left toward room 215.

My hand poised to knock, but Audrey Willow opened it as if on cue. I took in the sight of her. In the distance her hair appeared a generic red, but up close the red glowed with sunset hues of light rose to deeper rustic ones. And the eyes gleamed at me like a cat’s with the most vivid shade of green I’d ever encountered. When she smiled it was as if the sun’s rays illuminated the background behind her.

Please, come in, she greeted and stood to the side to let me pass by.

I nodded and moved into the room without a word. As soon as I caught sight of Aunt Sadie, though, my agitation kicked in with a vengeance.

I see you decided to waste no time getting here. What else was there to add? She’d taken my advice and come on her own. I really didn’t have a right to criticize, but the note, the body guard, and Brooke already had me on edge.

Well, I could hardly stay away. Audrey needs me. Sadie put her arm around Audrey’s shoulder and squeezed.

I sighed. Yeah, I know, but there’s something you need to hear. I pulled out the note and read it to them. I noticed the puzzled expression on both their faces and then explained my suspicion.

So, you think my body guard, Max, plans to kidnap me and deliver me to some hit lady? Audrey shook her head. I think your aunt is right. All the mysteries you’ve written have gone to your head, and it makes your imagination run a bit over the top.

I frowned at Aunt Sadie before turning my attention back to Audrey. Despite how crazy it sounds, do you really want to take a chance? What if I am right? Aunt Sadie knows how insanely driven Brooke Williams can be. If you are her target and she wants you dead … well, you’ll be dead. I shrugged my shoulders.

Audrey walked with slow, deliberate steps to reach the balcony window. She glanced down while remaining deep in thought.

Sorry, sweetie, but this sounds like you want there to be a connection so you can stop whatever plan Brooke has put in motion. Or should I say the plan you put in motion for her? Case of the guilts, maybe?

Oh, Aunt Sadie, I’d be relieved to find out I’m wrong. But I’d feel really sad if I’m right and Audrey ended up dead because I didn’t do anything to prevent it. Wouldn’t you? I struck a nerve with that comment. Sadie hurried over to the balcony window and pulled Audrey back out of its view.

Nothing wrong with taking a little dose of precaution, Sadie said. Question is why would a notorious hit lady want to murder Audrey? She’s already in trouble with the law. They want to send her to prison for murder! Isn’t that punishment enough?

At the mention of murder Audrey cringed. I noticed and quickly added, I’m sure the police are working on other leads. I realized the words sounded hollow, but it was all I could give. After all, every detail did point to Audrey. She had motive. She had opportunity. And she was drop dead gorgeous. It wouldn’t be the first case where a beautiful woman thought her looks might sway a jury into a not guilty verdict.

You know, it makes sense. Sadie nodded.

What do you mean? I asked.

Well, what if Brooke knew about my friendship with Audrey? She might have found out and figured how this could be used to her advantage.

You mean how I could get to Audrey through you. I finished the thought and let it sink in. You know, Aunt Sadie, I don’t give you enough credit.

Humph. Isn’t that the truth. Sadie reached for a glass resting on the table and took a long swig. Want some hooch? The bar is stocked full.

I smiled. That’s the Sadie I knew. Kick back a shot of bourbon and you’re good to go. I’ll pass for now. What we need to do is figure out the why of Brooke’s plan. So, Audrey Willow, what aren’t you telling the police about this case?

Chapter 4

I’d spent almost a half hour trying to pry something, anything, out of Audrey that might help figure out this case. I got nada.

I’m telling you, there’s nothing more to it. I mean, I realize Clive Monk and I didn’t have the kind of relationship to be exchanging birthday card greetings, but is that reason enough for me to want to kill him? And with my desserts no less? Audrey sat down and began ringing her hands.

Yeah, putting poison in a dessert does sound a bit obvious. I puzzled over that. It was too easy. If Audrey wanted to get away with murder, this wasn’t the way to take the focus off of her. Still, if we’re going to come up with any idea of who’d want to frame you, there just has to be something more to your relationship with Clive, or maybe … I stopped to shuffle and reorganize my thoughts.

Maybe what? Don’t keep an old woman in suspense, Sadie urged.

Maybe this has nothing to do with Clive. Maybe it has everything to do with you. I pointed at Audrey.

Well, of course it has to do with Audrey! She’s the one being charged with murder, isn’t she? Sadie shook her head and scowled at me.

"What I mean is that Clive being a so-called enemy of Audrey is just the detail to prove motive.