Stabbed in the Baklava

by Tina Kashian

  Azad had a bemused look on his face. “I have to agree. Great job with the servers, Lucy. Butch and I were able to focus entirely on the food while we knew you would handle the rest.”

  Lucy smiled at the praise. She also knew better than to hug him. She’d struggled to shut out any awareness of Azad and it was best to avoid physical contact.

  “I meant what I said. You both did the lion’s share of the work. I can’t cook and you two know it,” Lucy said.

  It was an opening for Azad to tease her, but he didn’t. Instead, he took off his chef ’s hat, ran his fingers through his dark locks, and said, “We better start packing before that testy wedding planner returns. I’ll get the rolling carts from the van.” He picked up some clean pots and pans and departed through the back door.

  She stared after him with a frown. She knew he was right. Why give Victoria Redding a reason to complain? Then why did she feel an odd twinge of disappointment that he hadn’t taken the opportunity to remind her of her lack of culinary talents? Did she actually miss his teasing? Had it become a form of flirting?

  Don’t go there, Lucy.

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, Lucy busied herself by helping Butch gather the soup pots and equipment. But when Azad didn’t return after ten minutes, she frowned. How long could it take to roll a cart from the van into the kitchen? Had he been waylaid by Victoria in the parking lot? Was he getting a tongue-lashing as they waited? Or was Victoria retrieving Henry’s cell phone from beneath the van’s bumper? Lucy wouldn’t put anything past the woman.

  “I’m going to check on Azad,” she told Butch.

  She jogged back to the van and slowed as she spotted Azad outside the van’s open back doors. One hand clutched the door, his knuckles white.

  “Azad?”

  No response.

  The hair on the nape of her neck stood on end as she came close. “Is everything okay?”

  She looked inside and froze. There, splayed on the floor of the van, was Henry Simms, stabbed in the neck with a shish kebab skewer.

  CHAPTER 4

  Lucy bit back a scream and managed to ask, “Is he dead?”

  Azad stood motionless, looking almost as pale as Henry Simms.

  “Azad!” she snapped.

  He let go of the van door and stumbled back. “I don’t know.”

  Lucy reached out and placed her fingers on Henry’s neck, opposite where the deadly skewer had entered.

  Nothing. Nada. No pulse. It was what she’d feared. Henry was dead.

  She resisted the urge to cross herself. “What happened?”

  Azad’s gaze remained riveted on the corpse. Afternoon sunlight illuminated the fine lines around his eyes and mouth. “I don’t know. He was like that when I opened the doors.”

  “We need to call the police.” When Azad didn’t move, she tugged on his arm and pushed him through the service doors. The first person she searched for was Katie. Lucy found her washing a large soup pot. Her shirt sleeves were rolled up and she was up to her elbows in suds. A half-full bottle of champagne was by the sink.

  Katie’s eyes lit up as soon as she spotted them. “Hey, Lucy. Look what I found. As soon as I finish up here, we can properly celebrate our—”

  “Where’s Bill?” Lucy asked.

  Katie halted in the middle of scrubbing the pot. “Probably at the police station for the end of his shift. Why?”

  “We need to call him. There’s a dead body in the van.”

  The pot slipped from Katie’s hands to clatter in the sink. “What?”

  Lucy’s pulse hammered in her veins as she spoke. “Henry Simms . . . the best man . . . he was stabbed in the neck with a skewer. We found him dead in the van.” Lucy turned to Azad, but he had a faraway look in his eyes, probably shock.

  Lucy was still in a state of astonishment. Had Henry believed Victoria had stashed his cell phone in the catering van? Had he somehow broken into the van to try to get his phone back?

  Was he stabbed inside or killed elsewhere and then dumped in their van?

  “Lord!” Katie turned off the water and reached for a dish towel to dry her hands. “I’ll call Bill.”

  Lucy nodded and turned toward the service door leading outside.

  “Wait!” Katie grasped her sleeve. “You can’t go back out there. You said he was stabbed. What if the killer is still out there?”

  Azad finally spoke up. “Katie’s right. I didn’t see anyone out there, but that doesn’t mean someone isn’t watching. It may not be safe.”

  Lucy’s stomach flipped like a fish on a line. She hadn’t thought about that possibility. Could Henry’s killer be lingering outside?

  Katie pulled her cell phone from her back pocket. “Nobody move until the police get here.”

  * * *

  The first one through the door into the kitchen was Ocean Crest police officer Bill Watson. He arrived with a young, freckled-faced officer with a crew cut who didn’t look old enough to have a driver’s license.

  Bill headed straight for Katie. “You okay?”

  Katie nodded at her husband. Bill was tall, lean, and still had a full head of thick brown hair. He hadn’t changed much since the couple had met in high school.

  Bill’s gaze shifted to Lucy. “How about you? You all right?”

  Lucy took a deep breath before answering. She was currently staying with Katie and Bill, and she considered Bill a good friend. But it was the sight of Bill in his uniform that was the most reassuring to her frayed nerves. “I’m fine. Azad was the first to find the body. I checked for a pulse, but there isn’t one.”

  Azad leaned heavily on a worktable, a distinctly green tinge to his face.

  “Where’s the body?” the young officer asked.

  “In the catering van outside,” Lucy said.

  “All right. Let’s see.” Bill and the young officer exited through the service door to the parking lot. Lucy, Azad, and Katie trailed behind and halted by the open van doors. Lucy stiffened at the sight of Henry’s body. His eyes were open and unseeing. She hadn’t noticed his eyes before. She’d been too focused on the shish kebab skewer in his throat.

  Bill pulled out plastic gloves from his belt, snapped them on, and pressed two fingers to Henry’s carotid artery. “We need to call in the county coroner.” He reached for his walkie-talkie and barked a few orders, just as another police car and the paramedics pulled into the service lot.

  Ocean Crest’s sole detective, Calvin Clemmons, stepped out of the car. A tall man in his midforties, he was dressed in a dark suit and had straw-colored hair and a bushy mustache. He scanned the crime scene, his expression arrogant, his mouth tight and grim. Then his reptilian gaze caught and held Lucy’s, and she struggled not to cringe.

  He’d been unfriendly toward her since she got stuck in the middle of a murder case last May. He was probably still bitter that he hadn’t been able to pin the poisoning of the health inspector on Lucy. Of course, he didn’t care for her family. Not after Lucy’s older sister, Emma, had cheated on Clinging Calvin, as she’d called him, with Calvin’s best friend in high school. Emma had a tendency to be unfaithful back then, and the fact their parents had never liked Calvin Clemmons hadn’t helped matters.

  “Well, well. What do we have here?” Clemmons stalked close and crouched down to inspect the body. Lucy heard the strains of the band and the tinkle of laughter from inside the ballroom, and she was relieved the wedding guests hadn’t yet learned of the gruesome scene in the parking lot. She cleared her throat. “His name is Henry Simms, and he was the best man in the wedding.”

  Clemmons stood and his beady eyes focused on her. “Lucy Berberian. Why am I not surprised you’re involved in this mess?”

  “I’m not involved. We catered the wedding and just happened to find the body in the van.”

  Clemmons pushed his suit jacket aside to rest his hand on his belt. A shaft of sunlight hit his service weapon. “Hmm. And Mr. Simms was murdered in your catering van with what I’m guessing is
a shish kebab skewer from your restaurant.”

  Lucy’s pulse battered erratically through her veins. Detective Clemmons had a knack for making everything sound bad.

  “Why was he in your van in the first place?” Clemmons asked.

  That was the million-dollar question. “I have no idea.”

  “Who found the body first?” Clemens asked.

  Azad stepped forward. “I did.”

  Clemmons pulled a notepad from his shirt pocket, flipped it open, and removed a pencil from behind his ear. “And you are?”

  “Azad Zakarian. Head chef of Kebab Kitchen.”

  “Ok, Azad. What time did you find the body?”

  “About a half hour ago. We finished the catering job, and I returned to the van to get the rolling carts so that we could pack up our equipment.”

  Azad’s normally olive complexion looked even paler, a feat Lucy didn’t think possible. Good grief, she hoped he didn’t throw up all over the detective’s shoes.

  “Were the rear van doors closed when you came out?” Clemmons continued.

  “Yes.”

  “Were they locked?”

  Azad frowned, and it was clear he was thinking back. “No. I don’t think so.”

  Lucy spoke up. “They were locked. I locked the van when I went back.”

  “When was that?” Clemmons asked.

  “I had to fetch an extra tray of baklava for the dessert course. I locked the van afterward,” Lucy said.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Clemmons jerked his head toward the younger officer. “Check for signs of tampering.” The officer began to circle the van and check the doors. Meanwhile, Clemmons crouched down by the body to examine it more closely. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as he studied the corpse.

  “Was he killed in the van or moved inside after he was murdered?” Lucy asked.

  A look of annoyance crossed the detective’s face. “That’s what we’ll find out.”

  The young officer returned and stopped before Clemmons. “It doesn’t look as if the locks have been tampered with.”

  “We’ll confirm that for certain at the lab later.” Clemmons stood and turned back to Lucy. “What did you do with the key after you locked the van?”

  “I returned it to Azad,” Lucy said.

  Clemmons looked at Azad. “You still have it?”

  Azad patted his pocket. “I do.”

  Clemens nodded once. “Good. I’ll take a look at it later. Now tell me what happened after you found the body. Did you move it? Touch anything?”

  “No! I was carrying an armful of pots and equipment to the van in order to save a trip, but I dropped everything and had to stop and pick it all up. I set everything down outside the van and fished in my pocket for the key to open the door. That’s when I realized the door was unlocked and I found Henry Simms.” Azad ran a shaky hand through his dark hair. “Lucy came soon afterward.”

  Clemmons’s stare drilled into her. “What made you come back out if Mr. Zakarian was already fetching the carts?”

  “We were in the kitchen waiting for Azad to return. When he didn’t come back, I went after him. That’s when I saw . . . Mr. Simms.”

  “I see.” Clemmons scrawled in his notepad, and Lucy struggled with the urge to tear it out of his hands to see what he was writing.

  Clemmons looked up. “Did any of you know the victim?”

  “No,” Katie said.

  “No,” Lucy echoed, before she recalled the argument Azad had with Henry Simms in the kitchen. Her nervousness escalated, and she exchanged a quick glance with Katie. The last thing Lucy wanted to do was bring up Azad’s fight with the dead Henry Simms. But surely it would come out? The entire staff of Castle of the Sea had witnessed it.

  Clemmons pointed his pencil at Azad. “And you? Did you know the victim?”

  Azad opened his mouth to answer just as a woman’s scream pierced the air. All heads turned to see Victoria Redding race across the lot as fast as her five-inch heels would allow. “What’s going on here?” She came to a screeching halt a few feet from the van and craned her neck to peer inside. “Is that Henry?” she gasped.

  Bill intercepted her just as she stepped forward to get a better look. “Calm down, ma’am.”

  Victoria thrust Bill’s hand aside. “Calm down! How can I calm down when he’s been hurt?” One hand flew to her chest, the other to her mouth as her gaze was riveted on the body. “What’s that sticking out of his neck? Is he . . . is he dead?”

  “Ma’am—” Bill started.

  “My Lord, he is dead.” Victoria’s eyes widened. “Poor, poor Henry. Who would do this to him?”

  “If you’ll step aside and let us do our job—”

  Victoria scanned the group, as if noticing them for the first time. Her kohl-lined eyes narrowed as they came to rest on Azad. “You!” she screeched, pointing to Azad. “I just spoke with the waitstaff, who said a fight broke out earlier in the kitchen and you threatened to kill Henry. You were a maniac, yelling and screaming, and brandished a shish kebab skewer at Henry.”

  The detective’s accusing gaze was riveted on Azad. “Is this true? Did you know the victim?”

  A shadow of alarm crossed Azad’s face. “We had dealt with each other in the past. I had applied for a loan from his bank. It was business, that’s all.”

  “He’s lying! Numerous people witnessed him scream at Henry and blame him for denying him a bank loan. They reported the incident to me straightway,” Victoria said.

  Uh-oh. The kitchen had been full of people when Azad had lost his temper. Even Lucy had been surprised at his uncharacteristic outburst toward the intoxicated best man. She wouldn’t be surprised that they’d reported the incident to Victoria. The wedding planner most likely had other weddings at Castle of the Sea, whereas the staff owed Lucy no loyalty.

  Lucy had known Azad since she’d been a teenager. He may have threatened Henry Simms with bodily harm, but he didn’t mean that.

  “I didn’t mean it,” Azad blurted out.

  “So you did threaten to kill Mr. Simms?” Clemmons said.

  “That’s not what he said,” Lucy argued.

  Katie piped up. “I can back up Lucy. Ms. Redding is exaggerating. I was there and I don’t remember him threatening to kill Mr. Simms.”

  Victoria’s red-glossed lips twisted with distaste. “It’s true. All you have to do is ask any of the staff. That man threatened Henry with bodily harm.”

  “So did she,” Lucy blurted out.

  Clemmons’s stare drilled into Lucy. “What do you mean?”

  Lucy raised her chin a notch. “I overheard an argument between Victoria and Henry. It happened just over there,” she said, pointing to the spot where the Rolls-Royce was parked. “She threatened him.”

  “When was this?” Clemmons demanded.

  “About an hour ago, when I had returned for the baklava tray. They were arguing something fierce. Henry Simms had smuggled a cell phone into the reception, and Ms. Redding told him it wasn’t allowed. She took his cell phone and said she’d ask us to lock it in the catering van until after the reception.”

  “Did she ask you?” Clemmons said.

  “Well, no . . . but—”

  Victoria huffed. “That’s ludicrous. I met Henry outside during the reception to go over the final details of his duties as best man. It’s true I took his phone, but I never stored it in the van or asked to do so. I have it right here,” she said as she reached inside a dyed emerald handbag that matched her high heels and whipped out a cell phone. “I only requested Henry give it to me and he complied without complaint. He’d forgotten about the rule.” Victoria shot Lucy a sidelong glare. “But Ms. Berberian must have misunderstood what she’d heard. It’s not surprising since she’d been eavesdropping. God only knows where she was hiding.”

  Clemmons arched his shaggy eyebrow. “Were you eavesdropping?”

  Lucy squirmed. “I didn’t plan on it. She was screaming at He
nry. I didn’t want to get involved so I ducked behind the van until they were finished.”

  Victoria’s eyes flashed. “See. She was eavesdropping, Detective. She couldn’t possibly have overheard everything correctly, and she’s taking things out of context.”

  “What did you tell Henry?” Clemmons said.

  “Like I said,” Victoria continued, “I went over his duties as best man. He was to speak with the chauffeur and arrange for transportation for Scarlet and Bradford to a nearby hotel. The final destination is kept secret to avoid gossip and press. We also talked about how best to avoid paparazzi during the car ride. After he handed over his cell phone, I told him I’d return it at the end of the reception. But I certainly never threatened to kill him.”

  “She’s lying,” Lucy said.

  Detective Clemmons eyed Lucy speculatively. “So you say, Ms. Berberian.”

  Lucy breathed in a shallow, quick gasp. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m telling the—”

  “Surely you see what’s going on, Detective,” Victoria said, cutting her off. “Ms. Berberian is making up an elaborate story to protect her head chef. No other witness will verify what she claims she overheard whereas a dozen employees witnessed the fight between her chef and Henry.”

  Lucy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The woman was an outright liar. But she was telling the truth about one thing: Lucy was the only witness to Victoria’s argument with Henry whereas more than half of the crew of Castle of the Sea witnessed Azad’s fight with the victim.

  Lucy’s hands fisted at her sides. She had a strong urge to punch the wedding planner square in the nose.

  Victoria Redding wasn’t quite done. She leaned an inch closer to stare at Henry’s body, then straightened. Her hand fluttered to her chest. “Besides, isn’t that your skewer sticking out of Henry’s neck?”

  Detective Clemmons’s chest expanded in his suit, and his mustache twitched with a self-satisfied and arrogant smirk.

  Alarm bells went off in Lucy’s head, and she struggled to keep her shoulders square. She knew him well enough now to spot the malicious gleam in his gaze. She’d faced it before, when he wanted to arrest her for murder.