Stabbed in the Baklava

by Tina Kashian

  Walsh leveled her gaze on Lucy. “Who would think this handy kitchen utensil could kill someone? But then again, I’ve seen many household items used to murder. Ingenious really.”

  Lucy’s breath caught in her throat. “Anyone could have had access to one of those skewers during the wedding. We served shish kebab to two hundred and fifty guests.”

  “Ah, but only one set of fingerprints was found on the murder weapon.”

  Lucy was afraid to ask, but did anyway. “Azad Zakarian’s?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But that can be explained. He was in charge of preparing the shish kebab. His fingerprints were probably on all the skewers.”

  “I said only his fingerprints. No one else’s.”

  Lucy’s mind whirled. There had to be a reasonable explanation. “The murderer could have used gloves.” She knew Azad had not used gloves in the kitchen. He was an experienced chef, and he washed his hands before and after handling any food. It wasn’t a far stretch to assume the murderer had used gloves, and that explained why the only fingerprints left behind on the murder weapon would be Azad’s.

  “Perhaps.” Walsh picked up her fork and bit into the lamb, then stopped midchew and studied her plate with renewed interest. “This is delicious.”

  “Thanks.” Lucy’s attention was no longer on the food, but on what the wily prosecutor had told her.

  “What is it seasoned with?”

  “It’s a marinade of olive oil, garlic, onions, salt, pepper, and other spices.” Lucy’s frustration rose. One minute the prosecutor was talking about an active murder investigation and the next she wanted to discuss recipes. “Everything you said can be explained. It’s not enough to accuse a man of murder.”

  Walsh paused and took a long sip of water. “By your own admission, Azad had the key to the van and access to the crime scene.”

  “The van was parked in a public lot. Anyone could have had access to it,” Lucy argued.

  “Ah, but the van was inspected at the state lab. The locks and windows weren’t tampered with. No one broke into the van.”

  Lucy knew this information from Bill. Still, it sounded much more incriminating coming from the prosecutor.

  “We questioned the staff from Castle of the Sea,” Walsh continued. “As an attorney, you are aware that witness testimony is not always reliable, but in this case, we had over a dozen witnesses who said Azad threatened to do Henry Simms bodily harm while wielding a shish kebab skewer.”

  Crap. This was going from bad to worse. “Are you going to arrest him?”

  “I wouldn’t share that information with you.”

  “Then why are you telling me all this?” Lucy asked.

  Walsh rested her fork on her plate and leaned forward, her eyes sharp and assessing. “I want to be certain that we have an understanding. I realize Azad Zakarian is your head chef and an important member of your staff. You are to stay out of the police investigation. If Detective Clemmons needs more information from you, he’ll ask for you to visit the station.”

  Lucy fought the urge to squirm in her seat. “All right.” What could she say? She knew better than to argue with a state prosecutor.

  “Meanwhile, if you happen to remember anything or hear anything, you will report it to the authorities immediately. You have my card.”

  “Got it. If anything comes to mind, I’ll tell the police.”

  Walsh nodded. “Are you still residing with Officer Bill Watson and his wife?”

  “Yes, and I’m behaving like a model citizen.” Last time, the prosecutor had warned her that any involvement on her part could jeopardize Bill’s position on the force. It was a warning that she took seriously.

  “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

  * * *

  As soon as the prosecutor left, Emma rushed out of the kitchen and bombarded Lucy with questions. “What did she say?”

  Lucy reached for a rag and started wiping down the waitress counter. It was a needless task—the counter was already clean—but she was anxious and restless. “The prosecutor told me to stay out of police business.”

  Emma took the rag from her and set it aside. “Dad wants you to get involved. Mom doesn’t. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure.” She was sure, but Emma didn’t need to know that. The fewer people who knew, the better. Katie was her partner-in-crime, and Lucy didn’t want anyone else to get involved.

  Emma placed her hands on her hips. “Are they going to make an arrest?”

  “Arrest who?”

  Lucy and Emma spun around to find Azad standing in the swinging doors that separated the dining room from the kitchen. He wore his chef’s coat, but the top two buttons were undone. The fitted white T-shirt beneath revealed the corded muscles of his neck. His dark, wavy hair was disheveled, as if he’d repeatedly run his fingers through it.

  Lucy’s pulse quickened. “What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to work until tonight.”

  His gaze roved her body and returned to her face. “Neither are you.”

  Lucy folded her arms across her chest. She was highly conscious of her running outfit, an unflattering T-shirt and shorts, and her messy ponytail. What had possessed her to stop by the restaurant on the way home from a run? First, the prosecutor. Now, Azad. Refilling her water bottle wasn’t worth it.

  “I just stopped by during a jog. I’m not working,” she said.

  “Well, I needed a distraction, too, and work is it for me. Plus, your mom recently booked a baby shower and I need to prepare. Now what’s going on?”

  Emma watched them. “You two should talk about this privately. Go to the office.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Azad said.

  If she said no, she would look like a coward. Plus, Azad would suspect something was really wrong. “Fine,” Lucy mumbled.

  Azad followed her through the kitchen and into the storage room where she opened a door that led into the small office her parents had used for years. The metal desk was littered with time sheets and invoices. A shelf crowded with cans and boxes of food samples from restaurant suppliers rested against one wall. A safe was mounted on the opposite wall where she placed the cash from the register until she could make a daily deposit to the Ocean Crest Savings and Loan.

  Azad leaned against the desk. “Now, who’s getting arrested?”

  “Azad, I . . . I don’t know.”

  “It’s me, isn’t it?”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “You didn’t have to. I know you. You have a ‘tell’ when you’re lying.”

  “What tell?”

  “A muscle tics by your left eye.” He stepped close to point to a spot at the corner of her eye.

  Her pulse quickened at his nearness. She took a quick step back and glared at him. “No one’s ever mentioned that I have a tic before.”

  “Well, maybe they didn’t notice. Or they don’t know you like I do. So give it to me straight.”

  “Fine. The county prosecutor was here. Your fingerprints were the only ones on the shish kebab skewer found in Henry Simms’s neck.”

  “So? I prepared all the shish kebabs.”

  “That’s what I told her. But there’s more. They interviewed the Castle of the Sea employees, who testified they heard you threaten the victim in the kitchen.”

  Azad sighed. “I shouldn’t have done that, but I just lost it when I saw that crook.”

  Here was her chance to ask him the question that had plagued her since his outburst at the wedding. “Azad, why were you furious with Henry Simms about a loan that fell through?”

  “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “It does to me. Did you apply for a loan to buy the restaurant?” She knew her father had initially planned to be the mortgagee and for Azad to offer a sizable down payment and then make monthly payments until the restaurant was paid in full.

  “You know I wanted to buy the place. It was never a secret.”

  “No, it wasn�
�t, but you said you supported my decision to stay in Ocean Crest and manage the restaurant.”

  “That’s the truth. It still is.”

  “But only because your loan fell through.”

  “That loan fell through before you returned home. You can’t hold that against me.”

  He was right, but still . . .

  What if the loan had gone through? Would they have fought over who would take over the restaurant? Even more disturbing, would her parents have given her the chance, or simply chosen Azad?

  She didn’t like the thought one bit.

  “I can see where this is going, but you should know me better by now. If I wanted to go to a different bank and apply for another loan after you had come home, then I could have. But I didn’t.”

  That much was true.

  “Let’s not talk about this right now. Other than my fingerprints on the murder weapon and a room full of witnesses who saw me threaten the victim, what else did the prosecutor say?” he asked.

  She grudgingly agreed. There were definitely more immediate issues to consider. “We both gave statements saying we locked the van and that you had the key. The police inspected the van and it wasn’t tampered with, so how did the murderer get inside?”

  “It doesn’t look good, does it?” He shook his head. “They want my neck in the noose. So, are they going to arrest me?”

  Lucy was more than a little worried. She could only assume Walsh hadn’t made a move because the police were still investigating, and the prosecutor wanted a slam-dunk case before going forward. “They would have done it if they had enough evidence.”

  “You mean at least for now.”

  Looking into his dark eyes, Lucy felt a sense of urgency. “Don’t worry. Katie and I aren’t going to let that happen.”

  His expression changed from worry to concern. “No way. I don’t want you to get involved in this. It’s too risky.”

  “I won’t put myself in danger. I’ll just plan to ask a few questions around town. Katie knows a lot of people from work and she wants to help.”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t want you or Katie to put yourselves in danger for me.”

  “We won’t,” she promised, then hoped that this time it was the truth.

  “I mean it, Lucy. Think of your parents.”

  “My dad wants me to investigate, remember?”

  “Your mom doesn’t.”

  “A few questions do not count as a full investigation.”

  “I don’t want your safety on my conscience.”

  “Azad, I’ll be careful—”

  “Please, Lucy. I know I hurt you in the past. I was young and stupid and things were progressing way too fast. But you know I care for you. A lot. We have history and I’m asking you not to do anything dangerous.”

  Wow. The way he looked at her was too serious. So was the racing of her pulse. She had to diffuse the emotions racing through her, and not let him know that her feelings were strong. “I’m more worried about Detective Clemmons. He’s looking for an excuse to hurt the family, and even though you’re not family, he knows it wouldn’t go well for us if you were arrested. The restaurant needs you.”

  The restaurant, not me. Definitely not me, she repeated to herself.

  A shadow crossed his face. “I didn’t kill that banker. I’m innocent. I have to believe that’s enough.”

  It may not be.

  Her conversation with Prosecutor Walsh wasn’t reassuring. No matter how much she hoped Azad was right, Lucy knew better.

  CHAPTER 7

  Later that afternoon, Lucy greeted Katie outside Lola’s Coffee Shop. “I got your voice mail about meeting. I’m glad you called.”

  “Are you thinking about how to solve the murder?” Katie said.

  Lucy halted and lowered her voice. “Let’s get some caffeine and an isolated, quiet table.”

  Katie opened the door to the coffee shop and motioned for Lucy to enter.

  The coffee shop had a steady stream of customers and Lucy and Katie stood in line, breathing in the delicious smells of rich coffee and warm pastry. The glass display case featured scones, doughnuts, and muffins freshly baked and delivered daily from Cutie’s Cupcakes. Oversized white mugs were stacked against the wall beside coffee and hot water urns. The owner of the shop, Lola Stewart, was busy behind the counter working on a hissing espresso machine as it turned milk into a frothy foam.

  Customers sat in wire-back chairs drinking coffee, chatting, working on laptop computers, and reading the Ocean Crest Town News. The coffee shop was painted a cheerful yellow color, and framed photographs featuring beach scenes of sunbathers, colorful umbrellas, and sandcastles hung on the walls.

  “Hi, ladies. I heard about what happened at Scarlet Westwood’s wedding. Who would have thought the best man would be murdered!” Lola said as soon as they approached the counter. She was a tall, thin woman with angular cheekbones and steel-gray hair pulled tightly back into a bun. Her friendly smile softened what others might consider her harsh features.

  “It was quite a shock and not what I expected when I agreed to cater the reception,” Lucy said.

  Lola leaned across the counter. “Are you two all right?”

  “As good as can be expected after seeing a dead body,” Lucy said.

  “Caffeine will help,” Katie said.

  Lola straightened away from the counter. “Of course. What would you two like?”

  “A cappuccino and an orange scone, please,” Katie said.

  “Ditto,” Lucy said. “It smells too good in here to resist.”

  Lola reached in the display case and placed two scones on plates and handed one to Lucy. “By the way, I saw pictures of the reception at Castle of the Sea. Stunning.”

  Lucy looked at her in surprise. “You saw pictures?”

  “In the tabloids. Scarlet’s dress was gorgeous. Despite what happened after the wedding, I’d die to see the bridal party in real life.” Lola set two steaming cappuccinos on the counter.

  Katie and Lucy took their mugs and plates and chose a spot in the corner. The table was hand painted by a local artist and featured seashells and horseshoe crabs. The closest customer was three tables away and he was occupied working on a laptop computer.

  “My gosh! You were right,” Lucy said. “Henry must have texted or e-mailed pictures to a reporter.”

  Katie nodded. “Victoria Redding will be furious.”

  Lucy’s thoughts turned as she stirred her cappuccino with a white rock candy barista stick. The demitasse stirrer had quickly become one of her favorite things about the coffee shop. She took a sip of her cappuccino and promptly burned her tongue. “Be careful. It’s really hot.” She stirred the drink some more. “Have you heard anything more from Bill?”

  Katie took a bite of her scone. “Not much. The police are still investigating. But Bill said Calvin Clemmons is being hardheaded.”

  All the rock candy had melted into her cappuccino, and Lucy set the stirrer on her plate. “More than usual?”

  Katie tested her cappuccino to be sure it had cooled enough before sipping. “Clemmons is pressuring for an arrest. The county prosecutor was called in and Clemmons wants to look good.”

  “I know about the county prosecutor. Marsha Walsh stopped by the restaurant today.”

  Katie blinked. “She did? When?”

  “During the lunch shift. She ordered shish kebab, dangled the skewer in front of my face, and warned me to stay out of the investigation.”

  Katie snorted. “You mean as a warning because of last time?”

  “I guess you could say so.”

  “Bill said that Clemmons is hungry for a promotion, and he sees this as an opportunity,” Katie said. “It’s not every day a celebrity like Scarlet Westwood gets married in town. And for a murder to happen at the reception—well—this is huge.”

  Lucy carefully sipped her cappuccino. This time it was perfect. “Marsha Walsh said Azad’s fingerprints were the only ones on the murder weapon. I t
old her that this wasn’t surprising because Azad was the only one who’d prepared the shish kebab. I don’t think my arguments helped.”

  “That’s why I wanted to meet. I asked around about Henry’s background and lucked out. Francesca Thompson was recently hired at the town hall. She used to work at Henry’s bank as a secretary, and she’s a font of information.”

  Lucy knew her friend better than anyone. Katie was drawn to mysteries, and a murder would be as irresistible to her as Susan Cutie’s lemon meringue pie was to Lucy.

  Katie reached into her bag and pulled out a file. She took out a handwritten sheet of paper. “Henry Simms was the chief operating officer of the Ocean Crest Savings and Loan. According to Francesca, there were rumors flying around that his position had been in jeopardy over the past year.”

  “My parents started a business account there long ago. We still bank there. Are they in trouble?” Lucy asked.

  Katie shook her head. “Not the bank itself, but their former CEO had been in deep water. Henry was suspected of conducting some shady business practices.”

  “Like what?”

  “Francesca didn’t know all the details. But she used the word ‘embezzlement.’”

  “Embezzlement? That’s a serious accusation.” Lucy tapped her fingers on the table. “But it wouldn’t be the first time a bank CEO was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The only thing is that Henry didn’t embezzle from Azad. The loan never went through.”

  “I asked Francesca if she knew about Azad’s loan when she worked at the bank. She said Azad’s application was for one hundred grand and he put up his parents’ house that he’d inherited as collateral.”

  A hundred thousand dollars wouldn’t be enough to purchase the family business, but if her parents had planned to hold the mortgage, then that amount of money would have been a sizable down payment.

  “What happened to the loan?” Lucy asked.

  “Francesca couldn’t say. The collateral was sufficient and the initial loan paperwork was approved, but at the last minute the final loan was denied.”

  “Why?”

  “Who knows? Maybe Simms was in financial trouble and the bank couldn’t make the loan,” Katie said.