Stabbed in the Baklava

by Tina Kashian

  Azad was in serious trouble.

  * * *

  Butch, Katie, and the staff of Castle of the Sea were interviewed next. Unlike when he questioned Lucy and Azad, Detective Clemmons was quick with the others. Meanwhile, Henry Simms had already been pronounced legally dead, and the county medical examiner and the other officers continued taking photographs and processing the scene. Lucy cringed as the medical examiner zipped up the body bag and Henry was carried away.

  After Detective Clemmons had finished interviewing the others, he approached Lucy. “You’re still staying with Officer Watson and his wife?”

  Lucy nodded numbly.

  “All right. Don’t leave town.” He pierced Azad with an unfriendly glare. “You either.”

  “I have no plans to leave,” Lucy said. “I’m managing Kebab Kitchen now.”

  Clemens tapped his pad with a pen. “Your parents retired?”

  “Not entirely. They’re part-time.”

  The pen halted. “And Emma?”

  Oh, no. She didn’t want to go down that path. It was clear Clemmons still held a grudge.

  “Emma still works there. Now can we please leave?” Lucy turned to Azad and hoped he’d be of some assistance. But Azad stood still as a statue and stared at the pool of blood on the floor of the van where Henry had lain.

  A terrible tenseness filled Lucy’s body. How would she ever look at the van and not think of Henry sprawled on its floor? The image of the skewer would be forever imprinted in her mind.

  Azad pulled the van key out of his pocket and thrust it at Lucy. “I think you should drive back, Lucy.”

  Lucy reached out to take the key, but Clemmons stepped in between them. “I’ll take that,” Clemmons said. He withdrew an evidence bag from a kit and motioned for Azad to drop the key inside.

  Lucy blinked. “You’re taking the van?”

  Clemmons looked at her as if she was an idiot. “Until we examine the vehicle with a fine-tooth comb for evidence, the van is an active crime scene. Same goes for everything in it.”

  Just great. She should have known. The impounding of the catering van posed all sorts of problems. Never mind that moments ago Lucy was wondering how she would be able to set foot in it. Now she was wondering how they would get back. “If you take the van, then how on earth are we supposed to get all our equipment back to the restaurant?”

  The detective’s dark eyes impaled her. “That’s your problem, Ms. Berberian. If you stayed away from crime scenes and dead bodies, then you wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

  CHAPTER 5

  It was well after midnight by the time the four of them drove back in Butch’s battered Buick. As soon as the car pulled into a spot in front of Kebab Kitchen, Lucy spotted a pair of glowing green eyes. The car door squealed in protest when she pushed it open.

  “Hi, Gadoo.” He was the outdoor restaurant cat that her mother had adopted while Lucy was away and working in Philadelphia. The Armenian “Gadoo” translated simply as “cat,” and the feline visited twice a day like clockwork to eat. He was exceptional at chasing away the birds and any outdoor rodents who dared cross the parking lot.

  The cat came close and she scooped him into her arms and buried her fingers into his soft fur. After the tumultuous events of the evening, his purr was comforting.

  Azad placed a hand on her arm. “You can’t take him inside. Your mom will have a fit.”

  Lucy frowned and stepped away. She knew her mother was obsessed with cleanliness in the restaurant and everything had to be bleached at the end of the day, but Lucy wasn’t ready to put Gadoo down. “I don’t think it’s the cat that will make her upset tonight.” She walked to the door. “Besides, she’s let the cat inside on occasion.”

  Azad grumbled a response, but opened the door. The group shuffled inside.

  Her parents were sitting at a large table waiting for their return. A bottle of Raffi’s favorite ouzo—an anise-flavored alcoholic drink—sat unopened on the table to celebrate Lucy’s first catering job. Angela stood, her gaze traveling from Lucy’s face, to the cat in her arms, back to Lucy.

  “What’s wrong?” Angela asked.

  Lucy let out a sigh and explained the night’s events.

  “Are you saying a man was murdered? In the catering van?” Her mother looked at her in shock. Her father gazed at her as if she had grown two heads.

  Lucy couldn’t blame them.

  Everyone pulled out chairs and joined her parents at the table. Gadoo jumped off Lucy’s lap to rest on the windowsill. Thankfully, her mother didn’t comment on the cat. She must truly be in shock. Her father poured everyone a glass of ouzo. But now, instead of toasting their success, they sipped the liquor in silence. Her mother responded the way she always did when bad news hit: she rushed into the kitchen and returned with a mezze plate of hummus, olives, feta cheese, and pita.

  Lucy cleared her throat. “We couldn’t leave until Detective Clemmons finished questioning each of us. The police took the van and we had to leave the equipment behind.”

  Raffi reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “Forget the equipment. We can go back and get it tomorrow. All of you are what’s most important.”

  Lucy sipped her drink. She had never been a fan of the anise-flavored alcohol, but she needed something to ease her nerves. “We’re fine, Dad. We’re all just a little shook up.” She wondered if she would be able to sleep tonight.

  Angela wrung a cloth napkin. “Finding that man must have been frightening.”

  “It was, Mrs. Berberian,” Azad said. “I panicked. Lucy was the one to think fast, and she ran inside to call the police.” Azad finished his ouzo, and Raffi was quick to refill it.

  Lucy was surprised by Azad’s statement. He had frozen, and she had been the one to drag him inside and have Katie call the police, but she hadn’t expected him to thank her for it.

  “You both received a shock.” Her mother placed olives, cheese, and hummus on small plates and passed them out. “Please eat. Food and drink will calm you.”

  Despite the stress, Lucy smiled. Her mother believed food was the answer to everything—happy times and stressful ones. They all knew better than to refuse her.

  “And to think,” her mother continued, “we were worried all evening about the catering and whether the guests would enjoy the shish kebab.”

  “Lucy did a great job overseeing everything, Mr. and Mrs. B,” Butch said. “The dinner service went well, too.” He took off his checkered bandana and rubbed his bald pate. “But I don’t think the guests will be talking about the food after they learn what happened to the best man.”

  A sudden flash of anger lit Angela’s eyes. “I knew that woman would cause trouble. Drama is Scarlet Westwood’s livelihood.”

  “It wasn’t Scarlet’s fault.” Lucy found herself defending the socialite, then halted. She didn’t know whose fault it was, and she’d learned firsthand from the last time someone had been murdered in Ocean Crest that not everyone was who they appeared to be. Who knew if Scarlet had a role in Henry’s death?

  Victoria Redding was the first person who came to mind. Lucy had overheard her nasty fight with the best man. It didn’t matter that she kept Henry’s phone and never hid it in the van. All that mattered was if Henry thought she had. But how did either Henry or Victoria get into the locked van? And if she killed him somewhere else, how did she move Henry? He outweighed her by at least fifty pounds.

  Victoria wanted to pin the murder on Azad, and the next time Lucy crossed the wedding planner’s path, she had a few choice words for her.

  Azad may not be perfect, especially as a former boyfriend who’d broken her heart years ago, but he wasn’t a killer.

  So, who else could have done the dirty deed?

  The truth was, anyone at that wedding could have killed Henry Simms.

  “Thank goodness it wasn’t from the food. I don’t think we could survive that again,” her mother said, referring to the death of the health inspector months ago.<
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  “Do they have any idea who would do such a thing to the best man?” Her father looked at Katie. “Does Bill know?”

  Katie lowered her fork and set it next to her plate. “It’s too soon to tell. They won’t know until the investigation is complete.”

  “Do they have any suspects?”

  Other than Azad? Lucy thought.

  “Everyone at the wedding is a potential suspect,” Katie said. “The investigation will take time.”

  Raffi nodded. “Azad and Butch, you two go home. You’ve had a long day. Angela and I will lock up the restaurant.”

  A flash of relief crossed Azad’s face. He finished his drink in one swallow and pushed back his chair. “Thanks. I’ll be here in the morning,” he said as he went to the door.

  Lucy was glad to see the color had returned to Azad’s complexion. Maybe it was the drink and the food, but then he turned to wave, and she noticed the tight lines around his eyes and mouth. He was clearly still stressed.

  Butch rose and followed Azad out.

  Once she was alone with Katie and her parents, Lucy was able to express her concerns. Calvin Clemmons had been on her mind since he’d questioned them. She hadn’t missed the glint in his eye. It was almost victorious.

  “I’m worried about Azad,” Lucy said.

  Her mother tilted her head to the side and regarded her. “Azad? Why?”

  “Well . . . he found the body.”

  “So?”

  How much to tell? “Azad had bad business dealings with Henry’s bank. They fought in the kitchen,” Lucy said.

  Lucy watched her parents’ expressions closely. Did they know about a possible loan? Had they planned for Azad to purchase Kebab Kitchen all along, and never told Lucy after the loan fell through? Was she their second choice to take over the family business?

  Azad had claimed he supported her decision to stay in Ocean Crest and manage the restaurant. Had he lied? Was the real reason he’d agreed to work for Lucy as the new head chef because he couldn’t get the cash to buy the place?

  He’d also led her to believe he wanted to date her again.

  Was it all a farce?

  “What bad business dealings?” her father asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  Lucy pursed her lips. “Something about a loan that never went through. He was pretty upset about it. Azad lost money in attorney fees.”

  And a business opportunity.

  Both Angela and Raffi had blank looks on their faces, like they had no idea what she was talking about. Maybe she was wrong, and they were as clueless as she was.

  “The kitchen is a stressful place, Lucy. Chefs are known to be temperamental. It’s not uncommon for tempers to flare,” Raffi said.

  “Well, it flared with the wrong person today,” Lucy said tersely.

  An uncomfortable silence settled in the room. After several heartbeats, Katie spoke up. “Lucy has reason to be concerned. Detective Clemmons is narrow-minded. It’s likely that he’ll look for the easiest suspect, even if it’s the wrong person.”

  “That man never liked us, and I haven’t forgiven him for thinking it was my hummus that killed the health inspector,” Angela said, her color high.

  Raffi rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “You think Clemmons will try to arrest Azad for the murder?”

  “Azad fought with the victim in a kitchen full of impartial witnesses while holding a shish kebab skewer, then he found the dead victim in our catering van. One of our skewers was sticking out of his neck. A dozen or so people saw him fight with the victim in the kitchen. The murder weapon was one of our shish kebab skewers, and everyone saw Azad preparing the shish kebab in the kitchen,” Lucy pointed out.

  Raffi drew his lips in thoughtfully. “If Detective Clemmons tries to blame Azad, then you have to help him, Lucy.”

  Surprise coursed through her. “Me?”

  “Yes. You have to find the real killer. You did it before, you can do it again,” her dad said. “Katie can help you.”

  He demanded she help as if he was talking about stapling posters to telephone poles to find a lost neighborhood dog, not a murderer. Lucy looked at Katie for help.

  But Katie didn’t protest.

  No help there. Her friend was obsessed with watching crime television shows and detective movies. Lucy suspected it was one of the reasons Katie had been attracted to Bill in high school after learning he planned on attending the police academy. Katie had helped her find a murderer a couple of months ago, and the thought of doing it again, instead of putting her off, seemed to intrigue Katie.

  “Of course, Mr. Berberian. I’ll do whatever I can to help,” Katie said.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Lucy said.

  “Why not?” Katie said. “We have nothing to lose. Azad on the other hand—”

  “No.” Her mother slammed a palm on the table. “I don’t want Lucy or Katie to get involved. There’s too much risk. We’re talking about a killer who stabbed a man.”

  Lucy sat stunned. Of all the people to oppose her father’s scheme, her mother was the last person on Lucy’s list. Her mother adored Azad. Lucy had thought she’d be first in line to interview potential suspects.

  Lucy patted her mother’s hand. “Don’t worry, Mom. We’re not thinking about it. We learned our lesson last time.”

  But the problem was that Lucy was thinking about it, and from the look in Katie’s eyes, her friend was, too.

  Who had done the banker in?

  * * *

  The following morning, Lucy woke to a cool ocean breeze from her window. Katie and Bill lived in a charming ranch with a white picket fence two blocks from the Atlantic Ocean. The guest bedroom where Lucy had been staying since she’d left her city apartment and returned to Ocean Crest was cozy and comfortable. An iron daybed, painted a glossy white, was tucked in a corner. Sheer curtains embroidered with starfish and shells matched the thick coverlet and throw pillows and allowed for plenty of natural light. Watercolors of beach scenes hung on the pale blue walls, and a white wicker chair with a crab-print chair pad and a wicker chest of drawers occupied the rest of the room.

  Lucy was glad she’d slept without memories of bloody shish kebab skewers or crime scenes. But now that she was awake, thoughts of yesterday returned in a rush.

  Who had killed Henry Simms? Despite her father’s demands, logic dictated that she stay out of the murder investigation and let the police do their job. But a nagging feeling wouldn’t go away: if Detective Clemmons was as quick as last time to point the finger at someone from Kebab Kitchen, she knew he’d overlook other suspects. So how could she stand aside and watch as Azad was arrested for a crime he didn’t commit?

  Lucy knew she had an inquisitive mind. It was her nature, and three years of law school had honed the tendency. It would be difficult to stay out of any investigation, and Katie would only encourage her involvement. Her friend was currently on a kick of watching every repeat episode of the former hit TV show CSI: Crime Scene Investigation.

  Sitting up, Lucy slipped her feet into slippers and padded into the kitchen. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted to her. She planned on having a cup, then taking an early morning jog on the boardwalk before heading to the restaurant to prepare for the lunch shift.

  Katie was already in the kitchen and standing by the coffeemaker. She was dressed in yoga pants and a tank top, and her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. It was Sunday, and Katie worked only weekdays at the Ocean Crest town hall handling everything from marriage licenses to processing real estate taxes to renewing dog tags.

  “Good morning,” Katie said, handing Lucy a mug of steaming coffee.

  Lucy gratefully accepted the coffee. She needed the caffeine more than usual this morning. “Thanks. Where’s Bill?”

  “He worked the overnight shift at the station. It’s not every day there’s a murder in Ocean Crest.”

  The mug halted halfway to Lucy’s lips. “You mean until I returned to town.”
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  “Neither is your fault.” Katie refilled her coffee and added a good amount of cream and two heaping teaspoonfuls of sugar to her mug. Her friend had a sugar addiction whereas Lucy preferred her coffee black.

  “I know, but I can’t stop thinking about Henry Simms.”

  Katie sipped from her mug. “Me either. Who do you think killed that obnoxious banker?”

  “Two hundred and fifty guests attended the reception, not including the hired help. That’s a long list of possible suspects.”

  “The police can narrow it down, of course, and the employees and most of the guests probably didn’t even know Henry or have a reason to kill him,” Katie pointed out.

  Lucy tapped her foot. “True. Victoria Redding is the first suspect who comes to mind. She was furious at Henry for smuggling a cell phone into the reception and for his plans to sell the pictures to the tabloids. She took his phone and threatened to store it in the van.”

  “He could have e-mailed or texted the pictures to the newspapers before she took his phone,” Katie pointed out.

  “I didn’t think of that,” Lucy said. “But what if he’d planned on taking more? The reception wasn’t over.”

  “You think Henry tried to get his phone back and Victoria killed him?”

  “Who knows? But the thing is, I’m not sure if a few tabloid pictures are enough motive for murder.”

  “Maybe Henry had other enemies at the wedding? Azad regarded him as an unethical banker. Victoria clearly viewed him as untrustworthy. Henry didn’t strike me as an upstanding person.”

  Lucy shrugged. “You’re right. But still, other than Victoria? I don’t have a clue.”

  “Bill always says the first suspect is the spouse,” Katie said. “And in all the crime shows I watch, the detectives interview the wife or husband first.”

  Lucy looked at Katie in surprise. “Henry Simms was married?”

  “Didn’t you notice his wedding ring?” Katie asked.

  “No. I couldn’t look past the skewer in his throat.”

  The scrape of a key in the front door drew their attention. “Bill’s home from his shift. We can ask him.” Katie set her mug down on the laminate countertop and smoothed her ponytail.