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  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

  The Missed Appointment

  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.