Stabbed in the Baklava

by Tina Kashian

  Lucy’s voice was adamant. “Azad didn’t kill Henry Simms.”

  “So you say.”

  Lucy stood. There was no sense arguing with her. They had a new lead and that’s what they’d hoped for. “Thank you for your time,” Lucy said. “I’ll leave the catering bill for you to review before you send it to Scarlet and Bradford.” Lucy reached into her purse and pulled out a business card. She’d had cards printed with the restaurant’s name, her title as manager, and her cell phone number at the top. “If you have any questions about the bill, please call.” They hurried from the room and out the front door of the bed and breakfast.

  Once back in the jeep, Lucy turned to Katie. “What do you think?”

  “Holly could very well be the murderer. Spouses are first on the suspect list.”

  “You think Detective Clemmons is thinking the same thing?” Lucy asked.

  “Who knows? The truth is I wouldn’t be surprised if Clemmons overlooks Holly Simms as a suspect. Less is more for him. He has his eye on Azad.”

  CHAPTER 10

  After leaving the bed and breakfast and returning to Katie’s house, Lucy received a cell phone call from Emma notifying her that the restaurant was almost out of cream, and their dairy supplier wasn’t scheduled to make a delivery until three days from now. Lucy estimated that they needed eight pints of cream for the restaurant’s coffee and tea drinkers, and she told Emma that she would make a quick stop at Holloway’s Grocery on her way to work. Her father would have made the trip, but Raffi Berberian was only working part-time now, and the duty fell to Lucy.

  Walking into Holloway’s was like walking into the past. Holloway’s had been the sole supermarket in Ocean Crest since Lucy was a little girl. The owner, Edgar Holloway, had started the business and had long since retired. His three sons, who now ran the store, had made an effort to keep it a small, hometown grocery. The baked goods were fresh, the produce seasonally local, and the milk delivered from local dairy farms whose farmers fed their cows organic grain. The workers wore green aprons and greeted customers with a smile. The only change had been the teenage stock boys. They looked a lot younger.

  Or had Lucy just gotten older?

  She was in the refrigerated food section loading up her cart when she spotted Mae Bancroft farther down the aisle. Mae was the head teller at Ocean Crest Savings and Loan, and Lucy saw Mae every day when she made her daily bank deposit for the restaurant. Heavyset with dyed auburn hair, Mae dressed in bright colors and owned an array of interesting costume jewelry. Today she wore a bright orange sundress with a print of blue and green parrots and dangling orange earrings to match. Mae knew almost all the town locals and she liked to gossip.

  Lucy pushed her shopping cart close by. “Hi, Mae.”

  Mae turned and her orange earrings swayed as she moved. It took a moment for Lucy to realize they were miniature parrots that complemented the pattern of Mae’s dress.

  “Hello, Lucy!” Mae smiled brightly. “Fancy bumping into you here. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside the bank.”

  “The restaurant ran out of a few things before our suppliers can make a delivery,” Lucy said.

  Mae’s gaze swept Lucy’s cart. “Ah, cream. I suppose that’s important enough to make a supermarket run.”

  Lucy may not have planned this encounter with Mae, but it was the perfect opportunity to ask about her dead boss. “Mae, I never had the chance to say how sorry I am about Henry Simms.”

  A sad look passed over Mae’s face. “We were all shocked. And to have it happen the way it did . . . well, Henry didn’t deserve that.”

  “How long did you work for him?”

  “Twenty-two years, to be exact.”

  “Wow. That’s a long time.”

  Mae sniffled. “He was a good man. A good boss.”

  Lucy tilted her head to the side and regarded her. “Mae, I need to ask you something about Henry.”

  Mae played with the strap of her handbag in the front of the shopping cart. “You don’t need to worry about the bank. Your account is secure.”

  Lucy shook her head. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

  “Then what?”

  “I want to ask you about some rumors I’ve heard about Henry’s personal difficulties at the bank. Gossip says he’d been on probation.”

  Mae, who always liked to talk, looked suddenly taken aback. She twisted the handle of her purse. “I don’t think I should discuss bank business.”

  “You won’t get in trouble. I promise not to tell anyone, and Henry is gone.”

  “Still, I—”

  “It is important that I know. I’m living with Officer Watson and his wife. If there’s any information that can help find Henry’s killer, wouldn’t you want to share it? You don’t have to worry about having your name dragged into it, because I’d never reveal my sources.”

  “Well . . . I suppose you’re right. Nothing I say can harm poor Henry now, and I want to see his killer arrested. But I don’t think I know anything that can help.”

  “You never know.”

  “All right.” Mae lowered her voice. “But not here.” Mae pushed her shopping cart out of the refrigerated foods aisle and into the pasta aisle. Lucy followed and they halted by jars of spaghetti sauce. Mae looked both ways to ensure they were alone. “I picked up the phone one day and happened to overhear one of Henry’s conversations. It was by chance, you see.”

  “Of course.” Lucy didn’t believe Mae had just happened to pick up the phone and eavesdrop on her boss’s conversation. Mae was too nosy.

  “Henry was a huge sports fan, especially the Philadelphia teams. He rarely missed a Flyers, Eagles, or Sixers game. And he went nuts over the Phillies.”

  Lucy knew South Jersey residents tended to be fans of the closer Philadelphia sports teams rather than the North Jersey or New York teams. “My dad is a Phillies fan, too, but not me. I like football and try never to miss an Eagles game,” Lucy said.

  “Well, Henry also liked the boxing matches. You know, the big ones held in Atlantic City. But he could never attend them or bet on a fight because his wife frowned upon it. Holly kept Henry on a tight leash.”

  Lucy tucked this interesting fact away, but something else Mae had said caught Lucy’s interest. “You said he couldn’t bet on the fights. Are you saying Henry gambled on the sports teams and boxing matches?”

  Mae glanced around once more before nodding. “I overheard Henry place sports bets with a man over the phone that day.”

  “A sports bookie?”

  “I guess so.”

  It would explain a lot if Henry had a fondness for illegal sports betting. A person could rack up debt fast that way and find himself desperate for cash. Desperate enough to risk his job at the bank by “borrowing” loan money from the accounts of unsuspecting customers and hoping to replace it after his next big win.

  But what if he failed to win ?

  Katie had said Bradford and Scarlet had an account with Henry’s bank for the launch of Scarlet’s Passion. Had Henry taken some of their cash? Lucy looked at Mae. “Do you recall the name of the sports bookie?”

  Mae shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t listening for long—”

  Lucy’s patience was at an end. This was a lead that couldn’t be overlooked. “Think, Mae. It’s important.”

  “I believe he said his name was Sam.”

  “Just Sam? Any last name?”

  Mae shook her head.

  “Anything else you can remember?”

  Mae pursed her lips. “Sam told Henry to meet him, with cash, at this country bar, Denim and Spurs. Henry agreed, then hung up.”

  Lucy had heard of Denim and Spurs, but she’d never been inside the place, which was just outside town. Country music and line dancing weren’t her thing. But she now planned on making her first trip to the place. “Thanks, Mae. You were a big help. And don’t worry, my lips are sealed. I’d never reveal your name.”

  “Glad I could help. You’ll be
sure to tell me what Officer Watson finds when you visit the bank?”

  Only if I want the entire town to know the news within two hours. “Of course.”

  Lucy turned her cart around. “I’m headed to check out.”

  “Me too.” Mae chatted about the current tourist season as they pushed their carts toward the cashiers. Lucy was behind Mae, but that didn’t stop her from continuing to talk as she removed items from her cart to place them on the conveyer belt. Mae dug in her handbag, removed a handful of coupons, handed them to the cashier, then froze.

  “Would you look at that!” Mae pointed to one of the tabloid magazines on a display rack next to the cashier. The front cover was splashed with images of Scarlet Westwood in her couture wedding gown with Bradford by her side. The couple both looked shocked, and the headline read: SOCIALITE’S WEDDING TURNS DEADLY.

  Beneath the text were smaller pictures of the paramedics wheeling Henry’s corpse into the coroner’s van.

  “What a disgrace!” Mae’s color was high, and her parrot earrings swayed from side to side as she shook her head. “How could the tabloids make money off such a tragedy as a man’s murder?” Mae reached for the magazine and flipped it open to reveal pictures of the reception and the guests at Castle of the Sea.

  Only someone who had been at the reception could have taken those pictures and sold them to the tabloids. Lucy’s bet was on Henry. If he needed funds, and fast, what better way to get them than to smuggle a cell phone inside the reception, text or e-mail the pictures directly to a gossip paper, and make a quick buck?

  Hadn’t Victoria accused Henry of doing just that at the wedding? Henry must have sent the pics before Victoria had snatched his cell phone.

  Mae dropped the paper on the conveyor belt along with her groceries. “I want to read the entire article and see exactly what that magazine claims.”

  It was clear Mae’s outrage didn’t outweigh her penchant for gossip.

  This time Lucy would join her. She plucked another copy from the rack and dropped it into her cart.

  * * *

  That night, Lucy tugged on her seat belt as Katie sped down Ocean Avenue.

  “I haven’t been to Denim and Spurs in years,” Katie said.

  Lucy reached up and grabbed the little handle above the door as Katie zipped past another car. “I’ve never been, and if you don’t slow down, I may never make it.”

  Katie chuckled. “You’re still not used to my driving?”

  “Will I ever get used to it?”

  They passed the center of town and drove by the sand dunes and the dune fences. It was close to eight-thirty in the evening, but the sun didn’t set until late during the long summer days. The dune grasses danced beneath a strong breeze. In the distance, the ocean waves were rough and only a few brave people were walking on the beach. The weather channel had said it was going to rain, and although they were accurate only half the time, Lucy believed their prediction today. As they passed a sign that read LEAVING OCEAN CREST, THANK YOU FOR VISITING OUR BEACH, Katie slowed down.

  “Are you worried you might get a speeding ticket now that you’ve left Bill’s jurisdiction?” Lucy couldn’t help but ask.

  Katie cracked a grin. “It would be unethical for me to take advantage of my husband’s job, but I admit the thought had crossed my mind years ago when Bill had just been hired by the township police department and we’d tied the knot.”

  “No longer?”

  “No. I wouldn’t want to put him in that position.”

  “But you’re okay with helping me investigate a murder behind his back?”

  “That’s different. I like Azad and want to help him. And like I said, Bill isn’t involved in this investigation. But Calvin Clemmons is, and I don’t have much faith in that man, do you?”

  No, she didn’t. And if she was truthful to herself, Lucy was grateful for Katie’s help. “Thank you for coming along with me today.”

  Katie shrugged. “You’re my best friend. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

  Lucy was reminded of how much she’d gained since leaving Philadelphia and returning home. Friendship, family, and a new career as manager of a family restaurant.

  “Do you think this bookie will talk about Henry?” Katie asked, interrupting Lucy’s thoughts.

  “I’m not sure, but it’s worth a try. If Henry owes the guy money, then I’d think he’d want to get paid.”

  Ten minutes later, Katie turned down a graveled drive and a rustic-looking wood building came into view. It was designed to look like a throwback in time, and it would have achieved that effect, except for the glowing neon cowboy boot sign that flashed the name DENIM AND SPURS. A couple dressed in jeans, cowboy boots, and Stetsons strolled arm in arm inside the front door.

  Katie pulled into a parking spot and put the jeep in park. “Check this place out. It hasn’t changed since the last time Bill and I were invited for happy hour years ago.” She reached in the backseat and pulled out a cowboy hat.

  Lucy’s eyes widened at the brown faux leather hat with a black hat band. “Where’d you get that?”

  “I’ve had it for years. Do you think it will help us blend in?”

  “Only at a costume party dressed as Annie Oakley.”

  “That bad?”

  “Let’s just go inside first and check the place out, okay?”

  Katie tossed the hat onto the backseat. They got out of the car and opened the club’s front door to the sound of loud country music from a live band. Men and women dressed in cowboy boots and Stetsons crowded the bar and the tables. A dozen dancers were burning it up on the dance floor, doing some type of intricate country line dance. The band’s lead singer removed the mic from the stand and called out, “Let’s all now get movin’ to ‘Boot Scootin’ Boogie,’ by Brooks and Dunn!” The dancers whooped and began stomping their boots, clapping their hands, and shuffling across the wooden dance floor. Lucy could barely keep up with their steps—it reminded her of a high-intensity Zumba class she’d taken in the past.

  “Wow,” Lucy said. “This place is hopping.”

  Katie stared wide-eyed. “I don’t remember it being this busy.”

  “Let’s head to the bar and ask questions.” Lucy spotted a couple leave their bar stools and walk to the dance floor. She nudged Katie and the pair hurried over and slid onto the empty seats.

  Men and women talked and tapped their boots to the lively music. The bartender was busy serving drinks to a group of thirty-year-olds at the far end of the bar. A blonde with big hair and a Garth Brooks T-shirt was flirting with a man in an oversized cowboy hat.

  “Look at that!” Katie pointed to a corner of the club. “Two mechanical bulls. Last time I was here, they had only one.”

  Lucy watched, fascinated, as a man with worn jeans, a large silver belt buckle, and a wide-brimmed cowboy hat rode one of the bulls. One of his hands held the bull’s horn and the other waved in the air like a professional rodeo rider. He lasted ten seconds before the mechanical bull bucked him off, and he landed on his backside. People standing on the sidelines burst into cheers.

  “Jeeze. I wonder how he stayed on the bull for that long,” Katie said.

  Lucy smiled. “You want to try?”

  Katie poked Lucy in the arm. “Not unless you plan on calling nine-one-one tonight.”

  Lucy sobered as the bartender finished serving drinks to the group. “Here he comes. Let’s ask him if he knows of a Sam.”

  The bartender wiped the bar before them with a clean cloth, then grinned at them. “What can I get you two?”

  Lucy leaned forward and rested her elbows on the bar. “We’re looking for a man named Sam.”

  “Sam, huh? You two pretty ladies want to talk with him?”

  Lucy held his gaze. “You bet.”

  The bartender chuckled. “If I didn’t know better, I’d almost be jealous of Sam Turner.” He turned to the dance floor. “He’s over there.”

  Lucy and Katie swiveled on their stools
to see a man sliding across the dance floor doing the two-step with a woman. He appeared to be in his late sixties with a leathery, wrinkled face. He was dressed in dark jeans, a white button-down shirt embroidered with a country pattern, and a bolo tie of leather shoestring. His cowboy boots were well worn. The large hat made it impossible to tell if he had hair.

  “That’s Sam Turner?” Lucy wasn’t sure what she’d expected the bookie to look like, but a senior citizen, country line dancer wasn’t it.

  “That’s right. Sam is our resident dancing instructor. On weekdays at two and four, you can stop by and schedule a lesson. Sam can teach you any country dance, from the two-step to the Cotton-Eyed Joe.”

  Katie lowered her voice to whisper in Lucy’s ear. “Looks like fun. Maybe we should schedule lessons. We can pump him for information as we learn how to line dance.”

  It wasn’t a bad thought, but just then, the dance ended, and Sam grinned and tipped his hat at his partner.

  “You’re in luck,” the bartender said. “The band’s taking a break and Sam will be heading this way for a drink.”

  As if on cue, the DJ took over and a Garth Brooks song came over the speakers. Sam sidled up to the bar, and the bartender popped the cap of a domestic beer and slid it across the worn, wooden bar. Sam tipped his hat again and took a long swig.

  Lucy knew she wouldn’t have a better opportunity. She slid off her stool and sidled up to him. Katie trailed behind. “Mr. Turner?”

  He lowered his beer to look at Lucy and Katie. His face creased in a wide grin. “To what do I owe the pleasure, ladies?”

  “We’d like to ask you a few questions,” Katie said.

  “Ah, y’all lookin’ to learn how to line dance? I’m a great teacher, and y’ll learn the ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ on our first lesson.”

  Up close, Lucy noticed his leather string bolo tie was decorated with a silver and turquoise grizzly claw. “Thanks, but that’s not why we’re looking for you.”

  Sam winked. “Oh? I’d be happy to oblige y’all in any other way.”

  Oh, brother. “Not that either, Mr. Turner.”