by Tina Kashian
The tensing of Cressida’s jaw betrayed her frustration. “What we had was special. I won’t betray Henry by having it out with that bitch. She was bad for him. Mean and cruel. I finally got him to agree to leave her.”
Lucy shifted. Her foot was growing numb, and pins and needles were traveling up her leg from her uncomfortable position. But she wasn’t willing to risk moving and making a sound that could alert the two women to her presence.
A single question arose in her mind: had Cressida convinced Henry to leave his wife?
Holly had been certain that her husband would never abandon her. She’d claimed he needed her money. Was Holly lying? Did she suspect Henry was planning on dumping her for the much younger Cressida? It would be humiliating and a huge blow to Holly’s ego.
“I still don’t see what the big deal is. It’s not like they were happily married,” Scarlet said.
“I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of turning herself into a wronged woman. She’s already faking the grieving widow, and it makes me sick,” Cressida said.
“Well, I suppose that’s a good reason.” Scarlet reached out to squeeze Cressida’s hand. For several seconds, the two women were silent. Lucy shifted again and tried to stretch her muscles. If she crawled away, would the two women notice her?
“You okay now?” Scarlet asked.
Cressida nodded. “Yeah. Thanks. I needed to talk to someone.”
“What are friends for?” Scarlet stood first, then Cressida. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Scarlet raised the collar of her coat, then walked away.
Lucy’s thoughts spun as she waited for Cressida to head back to her car. Holly had more motive than she’d initially thought. If Holly suspected Henry was going to walk out, then why not get rid of him and cash in the million-dollar life insurance policy? If she was never convicted of the murder, the insurance company would have to pay out. Even with a large trust fund, another million dollars couldn’t hurt, could it? Plus, she’d be a sympathetic widow rather than the older wife who was abandoned for a younger model.
“What are you doing, Ms. Berberian?”
Lucy spun to find Stan Slade hovering above her. His beady eyes sparked behind thick lenses and his gaze darted to the park bench to see Cressida walk away.
“You’re eavesdropping now?” he asked.
Lucy’s heart jumped in her chest. Of all the rotten luck ! She stood—her stiff muscles protesting—and brushed dirt and leaves from her jeans. “No, of course not. I just dropped my keys and was searching for them.”
He looked at her in disbelief. “What were your keys doing in the bush?”
“I accidentally kicked them.” Lucy moved past Stan. “Sorry I can’t stay and chat, but I have to get back to the restaurant. Summer is the busiest time of year for us.” She hurried across the park and prayed he wouldn’t follow.
But Stan Slade wasn’t easily deterred. He ran after her like a hound chasing a fox. “I saw Scarlet Westwood walking away from that bench minutes before. Her ridiculous disguise doesn’t fool anyone in town.”
“Really? I didn’t notice. Must have fooled me.”
“Uh-huh. I’d say you were listening to Scarlet and Cressida. Why? Did you hear anything interesting about the murder?”
A cold knot formed in Lucy’s stomach. “No. I wasn’t spying, remember?”
“Tsk. Tsk. Lying doesn’t suit you, Ms. Berberian.”
Lucy ignored the barb and quickened her pace as she passed the playground. Mothers pushing their young children on swings and kids climbing a rock wall were a blur as she rushed out of the park with the reporter on her heels. She needed a distraction, and fast. Her gaze zoomed in on Cutie’s Cupcakes across the street from the Big Tease Salon.
Would bulldog Stan follow her inside and make a scene?
Luck was with Lucy. Just as she stepped foot out of the park, a man called out and gained their attention. “Hey, Stan!” Ben Hawkins, the owner of the barber shop, stood beside the twisted red and white barber pole outside his store and waved his hands above his head. “Can you spare a minute? I want to go over my ad for next week’s Town News.”
Stan paused, conflict flashing in his dark eyes behind his glasses. He was clearly torn between chasing down Lucy and responding to Ben. Lucky for Lucy, business won out, and the reporter headed toward the barber shop and disappeared inside.
Saved by a newspaper ad.
Lucy opened the door of the bakery and the delicious scent of baking doughnuts, cookies, and pastries wafted to her. It smelled like heaven. Susan Cutie was behind the dessert case, sliding enormous cupcakes onto refrigerated shelves. Each shelf was labeled with her specialty flavors: salted caramel, chocolate delight, red velvet, killer carrot cake, banana peanut butter, and cookies and cream.
A second refrigerated case displayed her homemade pies, and Lucy’s gaze immediately went to the lemon meringue. The combination of the tart lemon and sweet meringue made her mouth water.
“Hey, Lucy. I take it you want one lemon meringue pie,” Susan said, motioning toward the pie case. She was pretty, with a shoulder-length bob and a quick smile, and spent many of her waking hours in her bakery.
Lucy shook her head. “Not the entire pie. Just a slice.”
“You sure? I baked them all fresh this morning.”
Lucy groaned. “You’re right. I’ll take a slice for me and the rest of the pie for Katie and her coworkers at the town hall.”
“How nice. Tell Katie I said hello.”
Lucy watched as Susan finished displaying the cupcakes. “How do you stay so slim, Susan?”
Susan slid the glass door closed and set down the empty baking sheet. “Baking is hard work. And when you make it all day you’re not as tempted to eat it.”
“I don’t believe it,” Lucy said. “I’m at the restaurant all day and it hasn’t killed my appetite. Emma’s the lucky one.”
“The firstborn has all the luck.” Susan went to the pie case and took out a lemon meringue pie. “But if you ask me, Emma’s too thin. You’re in great shape, Lucy. I’m also jealous of your hair. Mine’s limp and won’t hold a curl even with a piping hot curling iron.”
“Thanks, Susan.” Lucy liked the bakery owner. She was another friend that Lucy had discovered since returning home.
Lucy’s gaze returned to the shiny glass doors with new interest. “Hey. Is that a new refrigerated case?”
“It is. I took out a business loan and used the money to buy some new equipment. Business has been good, and interest rates were low at the Ocean Crest Savings and Loan.”
“Henry Simms’s bank?”
Susan tsked. “Poor guy. He handled my loan. The bank has to find a new president now.”
Lucy hesitated, not sure how to ask about Susan’s business dealings, then decided just to be forthright. “Did you have any problems getting the loan?”
Susan looked up. “You mean with the collateral?”
“With any part of it?”
“Well, I have a lot of equity in this building, so I had collateral. That part of the loan went smoothly enough. But dealing with Henry Simms was a bit odd. I remember going in to sign some paperwork and Bradford Papadopoulos was in his office. They were arguing something fierce.”
“Arguing? Do you remember over what?”
“I do. It made me a little nervous because they were fighting over an account at the bank, and I hadn’t signed my final loan paperwork yet. Bradford claimed that checks he’d written had bounced—payroll checks and bills that he’d paid from his account. He said there were more than sufficient funds in the account, but he’d received complaints from employees and vendors that the checks were bad. Bradford blamed Henry, and accused him of fishy business practices. Bradford was furious and said it put his business with his fiancée, Scarlet Westwood, at risk.”
“Wow. I don’t blame you for being nervous.”
Everything Susan said confirmed what Lucy and Katie had suspected. Bradford and Scarlet had a business acco
unt at Henry’s bank that they’d planned to use to launch Scarlet’s perfume line. Henry must have embezzled money from their account and caused the pair to write bad checks. The two men may have been college fraternity brothers and good friends in the past, but that friendship could have quickly deteriorated after Henry had stolen that money.
“Everything turned out okay,” Susan said as she took a meringue pie out of the case and set it on the counter to cut a large piece. “I never had a problem with my loan. Henry always treated me professionally and was kind. I feel horrible about what happened to him. His wife must be devastated.”
Not really. Holly had expressed a lot of emotions during her short manicure, but grief hadn’t been one of them.
Susan wrapped the slice of lemon meringue, put the rest of the pie in a box, and handed both containers to Lucy. When Lucy opened her purse to pay, Susan shook her head. “It’s on the house. Your mom gave me a take-out container of her famous traditional hummus last time I was at the restaurant. Tell her I said hello.”
CHAPTER 16
When the lunch rush had finally dwindled down, Lucy sat at a table across from Katie. Her friend had taken a late lunch hour from work to hear the scoop on Lucy’s escapade at the salon. As soon as Lucy’s mother had spotted Katie, she’d hurried into the kitchen and come out to set a platter of grilled halibut kebabs in a lemon dill sauce in front of her. Katie’s face had lit up like a thousand-watt bulb, and she’d thanked her mother. Lucy had waited until her friend had dug into the food and her mother disappeared into the kitchen before summarizing the day’s events.
Katie’s fork froze in midair. “Stan Slade did you a favor.”
Lucy scowled. “How? By showing me the old newspaper of Cressida and Azad together?”
“I wasn’t thinking of that, but yes. How else would you have learned?”
“You’re right,” Lucy said, a note of bitterness in her voice. “It’s not like Azad would have told me.” Things were still awkward between them, and they hadn’t spoken more than a few words since the incident. Lucy had avoided him as much as possible.
Katie reached out to squeeze Lucy’s hand. “I’m sorry that newspaper upset you, but look on the bright side. If Stan hadn’t caught you eavesdropping in the park, then you would never have rushed into Cutie’s Cupcake and learned what you did.”
Lucy rubbed her temples. “I know you’re right. But I also hope I don’t run into that aggressive reporter again anytime soon.” He made her nervous and it would be a good while before she forgot the image of the newspaper picture showing Cressida in Azad’s arms.
“Hopefully, you won’t.” Katie picked up her fork and pointed it at Lucy. “But we were right. Henry’s gambling problem led him to embezzle from bank customers. Bradford’s and Scarlet’s account could have been one of many. If you ask me, I think what Henry did to Bradford was even worse. Bradford was Henry’s longtime friend, and he took advantage of that friendship.”
Lucy’s thoughts turned back to what she’d learned. It was much better to concentrate on that rather than her strained relationship with Azad. “Henry probably believed he could replace the money in time with his gambling winnings, but he couldn’t come up with the cash fast enough. Instead Bradford’s and Scarlet’s employee paychecks and creditor payments bounced. Henry’s actions put their business endeavor, Scarlet’s Passion, at risk before it ever launched. It’s a reason to want to kill Henry.”
Katie took a bite of the halibut and chewed. “Something doesn’t make sense. Why ask Henry to be the best man if you hate him?”
Lucy sat forward in her seat. “What if they’d asked him to be the best man just to have a chance to murder him and blame it on someone else? After all, who would believe a bride or groom would kill the best man at their own wedding?”
“In a perverse sense, it’s the perfect crime.” Katie set her fork down. “But what about Holly? Do you think she told you the truth?”
“If she has a large trust fund, then that would eliminate one of the motives. Money.”
“There’s still jealousy. You said hatred radiated off Holly when Cressida walked into the salon.”
“Yup,” Lucy said. “I wouldn’t have been surprised if Holly jumped up from her manicure, grabbed the nail clippers, and went after Cressida.”
Katie’s nose scrunched. “Holly’s old enough to be Cressida’s mother. It must eat her alive.”
“I bet. But the thing is, Holly swore Henry would never leave her for Cressida . . . that he needed her for her money. As far as I could tell, Holly really believed it.”
“It’s convenient for Holly that her husband will never be able to confirm that fact.”
“True.” Lucy sipped a glass of ice water as she mulled this over. Something else bothered her, something about Cressida Connolly. “When I overheard Cressida talking to Scarlet in the park, Cressida claimed she’d finally convinced Henry to leave his wife. She sounded certain to me, too. Which one is telling the truth? Cressida or Holly?”
“Maybe both. It wouldn’t be the first time a man lied to two women. Especially a cheater like Henry Simms.”
* * *
Early the following morning, Lucy found her mother in the restaurant kitchen.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” Angela said.
Lucy set a coffee cup on the kitchen worktable. “It’s barely six o’clock. Aren’t you supposed to sleep late in your retirement?”
“Bah! Early risers get more done. Your father is a perfect example. He sleeps late, then is up all night worrying about the invoices and payroll he never finished.”
“He’s not supposed to do that. I’m handling the paperwork now,” Lucy said.
“It’s hard for him to let go entirely.”
As if it wasn’t just as hard for her mother.
Lucy eyed the three large pots on the stove. “What’s today’s lesson?”
Not long ago, Lucy would rather have visited Doctor Frank, Ocean Crest’s sole practicing dentist, and had a cavity drilled and filled than spend time in the kitchen learning how to cook from her mother. But now, surprisingly, she had come to enjoy the lessons as well as their private conversations during their time together.
Angela busied herself by setting a bowl of onions on the worktable, then putting on an apron. “I want to teach you how to make derevee dolma.”
Stuffed grape leaves.
Lucy sucked in a breath. “Shouldn’t we pick something easier?”
“It is easy.” Her mother took a large bin of fresh grape leaves that she’d picked from her own garden and dumped them on the worktable.
Lucy eyed the grape leaves with trepidation. “Mom, isn’t this a time-consuming and difficult dish? I’m not sure I can learn—”
“Nonsense. You helped me pick the grape leaves. Why not learn how to make the filling, wrap the leaves, and cook them?”
Her parents had their own special grapevine in the backyard of their home. The grapes were bitter and not good for making jelly or wine, but the leaves were especially tender. In the summer months, the grapevine thrived and produced thousands of leaves, and picking the grape leaves was a daily task during the season. Her father could easily order jars of grape leaves in brine for the restaurant from his ethnic food supplier, but the homegrown leaves melted in your mouth, whereas the jarred leaves could be tough.
“Go grab an apron and stop complaining,” Angela said.
Lucy picked a white apron and covered her Philadelphia Eagles T-shirt. She always wore the football shirt whenever she had the cooking lessons, and she felt as if it gave her good luck. She’d especially need it this morning.
“First, we have to cut the stems from each leaf. Then we soak them in boiling water to sterilize them,” Angela instructed.
That didn’t sound too hard. Lucy took a sharp paring knife and went to work alongside her mother.
“I know you’ve been looking in to that man’s murder,” her mother said.
Startled, Lucy ripped a gra
pe leaf. Damn. She should have known her mother would suspect. The woman had a knack for ferreting out lies. Lucy and Emma had never been able to sneak out of the house as teenagers and meet boys on the beach, smuggle a bottle of wine or ouzo from the family liquor cabinet, or pilfer a five-dollar bill from her purse.
Lucy went on the defensive. “Dad asked me to investigate, remember? He’s worried about Azad.” Her voice lacked conviction this morning. She’d spent a sleepless night thinking about the newspaper that Stan Slade had shoved beneath her nose yesterday. Azad and Cressida had looked so happy. Ugh.
“Your father is right,” her mom said.
Lucy blinked. “Really?”
Angela didn’t hesitate in her work of efficiently cutting and removing the stems from the leaves. “I know. I don’t like to admit it, but he is right in this. Azad is innocent and that Detective Clemmons doesn’t like our family.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
Her mother finished with her batch of grape leaves, set down her knife, and studied Lucy. “What’s wrong with you? You don’t seem very happy about helping Azad.”
How much to admit? Despite what Azad had told her, Lucy couldn’t help but wonder if he still had feelings for Cressida. And why did that thought bother her so much now? She hated that she was feeling like a crushed teenager pining after her first puppy love.
Lucy grew aware of her mother’s attention and she scrambled for an excuse. “Azad tried to take out a loan to buy Kebab Kitchen, but it fell through. If it hadn’t, he’d be the owner, not just the head chef. I’d be out of luck.”
“So?” Angela shrugged a slender shoulder. “He never lied to you about wanting to buy the place.”
“True. But he told me he supported my decision. He never mentioned the loan.”
Angela wagged a finger at her. “Lucy, it was before you expressed an interest in the place. You can’t hold him responsible for that.”
Lucy mulled this over as they finished prepping the grape leaves and boiled them.
“Pay close attention,” her mom said. “Now we have to make the filling. For every pound of ground beef, I add two finely chopped onions, the rice, parsley, and tomato. Then I season it.”
