by Tina Kashian
“No.” Once again they spoke in unison.
The detective’s eyes narrowed. “What about you, Ms. Berberian? Aren’t you on the festival committee?
“Like I said, I’m in charge of the food and wine tasting,” Lucy said. “But I don’t see what that has to do with Archie.”
As the words left her mouth, her eyes swept the food stations behind the detective’s shoulder. She’d been away for much longer than she’d initially thought. Tourists, locals, and even the restaurateurs had abandoned the tents and the food and were leaning on the railing, trying to catch a glimpse at what was happening below on the beach.
“What else?” Clemmons snapped.
Lucy blinked. “Pardon?”
“The sand sculpture contest?” His gaze swiveled from Lucy to Katie, then back to Lucy. “Weren’t both of you judges?”
“Yes,” Katie said.
“And wasn’t there an argument during the judging?” Clemmons asked.
How the heck did he know that? Lucy knew gossip traveled like lightning in Ocean Crest, but she didn’t think it reached the police station. Didn’t the cops have anything better to do than to talk like magpies around the water cooler or while buying doughnuts at Cutie’s Cupcakes?
Katie spoke up. “I exchanged words with Mr. Kincaid, not Lucy.”
Clemmons shot her a nasty look. “From what I heard, you two became pretty heated. You stripped Archie of his judging position.”
“I had no choice,” Katie argued. “His nephew had entered as a sand sculptor, and Archie didn’t follow the rules.”
“I see,” he said in a tone that said he didn’t believe a word coming from Katie’s lips. Lucy grew nervous. She recognized that look in the detective’s eyes. She recognized it and didn’t like it one bit.
He was treating Katie as a suspect.
“You can’t seriously think Katie would harm Archie over a silly argument?” Lucy asked.
“I wouldn’t call humiliating Mr. Kincaid by stripping him of his position as a judge in front of his peers a silly argument,” Clemmons said.
“You’re making it sound worse than it was,” Lucy countered.
“Fine. What started it then?” Clemmons asked.
“Archie and Harold were fighting. Katie bravely stepped in and stopped them from coming to blows,” Lucy said.
The detective arched an eyebrow. “Harold Harper?”
At Katie’s nod, Clemmons scribbled in his notebook.
“They don’t . . . didn’t like each other,” Lucy corrected. It felt strange speaking of Archie in the past tense.
“How do you know that?” Clemmons asked.
Katie shrugged. “Everyone knew. Just ask around.”
He scribbled some more. “I’ll look into it. All we know for sure is that someone here put a bullet in him.”
“There’re more than a hundred people on the boardwalk today. You can’t hold them all for questioning,” Lucy said.
He glared at her. “No. But the festival is on hold until we know what we’re dealing with.”
Lucy’s pulse pounded as she looked at him with rising dismay. “On hold! But the town depends on it.”
“It’s out of my hands,” Clemmons said.
“You can’t be serious! People will know a man died, but not that he was shot. Can’t you stay silent? Think of the town. We all depend on the income for our livelihood. If people think a murder happened on the beach, it will cause mass panic and tourists will leave for other shore towns.”
Just as the words left her lips, the paramedics, followed by the coroner, began to carry a gurney up the stairs. An ominous black body bag was strapped down.
Silence reigned as everyone gaped.
A series of rapid flashes blinded Lucy. She blinked, focused, and saw Stan Slade with his camera trained on the corpse.
Oh, no.
Even Detective Clemmons had the good sense to grimace. “If we don’t release the truth that a murderer is on the loose, then that could have horrible consequences, couldn’t it? What if the killer murders again and people learned we didn’t tell them? What then?”
Lucy swallowed a lump in her throat. What had she been thinking? Of course, he was right. Everyone had a right to know the truth.
She glanced at the crowd in dismay. Everyone was glued to the railing to watch the spectacle unfold, and the reporter had captured it all.
The summer festival wasn’t just on hold—it was doomed.
CHAPTER 5
Late that night, the Ocean Crest mayor called an emergency meeting for the beach festival committee. Lucy had offered Kebab Kitchen as a meeting place, and twenty local business owners and town leaders filed into the dining room. Tables and chairs had been arranged to face the hostess stand, which the mayor would use as a makeshift podium to address the group.
Everyone was talking at once.
Hours earlier, Detective Clemmons had issued an official statement saying Archie Kincaid had been shot and killed under the boardwalk. No suspect had been arrested. Lucy may have argued with Clemmons about releasing the news, but she realized it was the right decision. A murderer was on the loose. People needed to know.
“They’re panicking,” Katie said to Lucy as they watched the crowd from behind the waitress station and filled pitchers with ice water to deliver to the tables. A low wall separated the waitress station from the dining room and offered privacy. Behind them was the stainless-steel counter with the chef’s wheel—now empty. In the corner, a pair of swinging doors led into the kitchen.
“I don’t blame them. You can’t have a murder without everyone running scared. Plus, there’s the festival. It couldn’t have happened at a worse time,” Lucy said.
Katie leaned on the counter as she peered at the group. “They look and sound like an angry mob that’s ready to go out and catch the killer themselves.”
“I’m fuming a bit myself,” Lucy said.
“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
They picked up water pitchers, one in each hand, and delivered them to the tables. Lucy didn’t make it past the first table before she was peppered with questions.
“Lucy, do you know who could have killed Archie?”
“The boardwalk was packed. Someone had to see something.”
“Archie could be a pain in the butt, but still . . .”
“What about his nephew, Neil?”
Lucy’s thoughts spun. Among all this chaos, she’d forgotten there was someone mourning Archie. Neil had been living with his uncle. Where was he now? Was he devastated by the loss?
The barrage of questions continued.
“What’s going to happen to the festival? Are the police going to cancel the rest of the activities?”
“No way! We’ll all be in a boatload of trouble if they do.”
Unnerved by the unwanted attention, Lucy turned to Katie. “Why is everyone asking me?”
Katie set down a pitcher and stepped close. “You solved the last two murders. They think you can help with this one.”
Lucy’s heart sank with a desperate clunk. “I didn’t do it alone, remember? You helped.”
“A small detail.”
“Hardly.”
Lucy scanned the crowd. She knew them all, friends and acquaintances. Guido Morelli of the Hot Cheese Pizzeria sat next to Mac McCabe of Mac’s Irish Pub. The two men had hated each other until Guido’s daughter and Mac’s son had attended the senior prom together last May. Susan Cutie of Cutie’s Cupcakes sat next to Lola Stewart who owned the coffee shop. Candace Kent from Pages Bookstore was next to Ben Hawkins, the town barber. Michael nodded in greeting as he caught Lucy’s eye.
They were all worried. So was Lucy.
The door opened and the mayor, Thomas Huckerby, stepped inside. He was a good-looking man in his mid-fifties, with brown hair shot through with silver, hazel eyes, and an easy smile. He was also a natural-born politician, and she’d seen him hold two babies and kiss an old woman the same time. The crowd’s at
tention shifted to him.
Thank goodness. Her mind was working overtime, and she needed a moment to get her bearings. She didn’t want anyone to depend on her, let alone the residents here, to fix the mess they found themselves in from Archie’s murder.
Lucy glanced out the window and saw Gadoo saunter across the parking lot. Lucky cat. She was jealous of his freedom tonight. What would it be like to roam the streets without a care in the world except to catch the occasional rodent in the restaurant’s parking lot? He certainly didn’t have to worry about hunting for his next meal. Between her mother and herself, Gadoo was better fed than most of the people in the room.
“Quiet, everyone,” the mayor said as he produced a gavel and rapped it twice on the hostess stand.
“Where’d he get that?” Lucy asked.
Katie shrugged. “You got me. Must keep it stowed in his pocket.”
The group quieted down and took their seats like lifelong churchgoers. Lucy and Katie sat in the back. Lucy shifted to the right, then the left to get a better view. Being on the petite side had its disadvantages, especially when it came to seeing the chalkboard in school, watching a Broadway play, or viewing the current speaker.
Katie, who was taller than average, noticed Lucy’s angling. “You want to move our chairs up front?”
Lucy shook her head. “No, thanks. Then I’d really be in the hot seat for questions. I can hear just fine.”
The mayor cleared his throat. “I called this emergency meeting to update everyone about today’s unfortunate events and discuss the beach festival. We are all sad to lose a member of our community, Archie Kincaid. Detective Clemmons will join us shortly to answer questions. Meanwhile, I’ll open the floor to concerns that do not involve police business.”
“What will happen to the beach festival?” asked Mac McCabe. Tall, with a substantial beer belly, his shaggy, brown hair was tied back with a leather string.
“It will have to be indefinitely postponed,” Mayor Huckerby said.
The crowd erupted into chaos.
“Order! Order!” the mayor cried out, banging his gavel.
“It’s a done deal anyway. What family would choose to vacation at Ocean Crest and risk their children’s safety when there’s a murderer on the loose?” asked Lola Stewart. Her steel-gray hair was in its usual bun, and despite prominent cheekbones and sharp chin that gave her an appearance of a no-nonsense schoolmarm, she’d always been friendly. Right now, she looked concerned.
“She’s right,” Mac said. “There are too many other Jersey shore towns.”
“We’re all in trouble,” Lola said.
“Where were the police on the boardwalk? Maybe we need to hire even more security,” said Susan Cutie, who was pretty with shoulder-length blond hair.
Lucy knew the town hired additional temporary police during the summer season. “Rental cops,” they were dubbed by the locals. They frequently roamed the boardwalk during the evenings and also handed out tickets to illegally parked cars or to those who were unfortunate enough to end up with expired parking meters.
“It likely wouldn’t have made a difference. Archie was shot under the boardwalk. Additional police would have been stationed on the boards to monitor the crowd,” Katie said.
“Lucy found him. What did you see?” Guido asked. Heavy-set with slicked-back dark hair and a walrus mustache, the pizzeria owner looked at her earnestly.
Lucy stood and opened her mouth to speak when the front door opened and Stan Slade strode inside. Her uneasiness increased tenfold. The reporter of the Ocean Crest Town News must have radar. He always showed up at the worst times. Behind large, black-rimmed glasses, his dark gaze sharpened in anticipation of a juicy story. His ominous camera hung around his neck, and he raised it and snapped a picture of Lucy standing and ready to talk.
Just great. She might make the front page alongside Archie’s body as it was wheeled onto the boardwalk on a stretcher in the body bag.
“Go on, Lucy,” the mayor urged.
“I took a break from the tasting to walk on the beach. I didn’t see anything suspicious. I happened to find a body . . . Archie’s body. I told the police everything,” Lucy said.
“What do you think about hiring additional police presence?” a voice from the crowd asked.
Lucy looked to the mayor hoping he would jump in. She was not a security expert. “I don’t know, but I tend to agree with Katie. Security would not have helped in this case. Archie was shot under the boardwalk. Police would have little reason to patrol there.”
“And you didn’t hear a thing?” Stan Slade asked.
“Nothing.”
Another flash from his camera. Damn. Would he quote her, too?
Lucy sat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the door open again. This time, Detective Clemmons stepped inside. He wasn’t much older than Lucy, who was thirty-two, but he appeared a decade older with wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. He wore the same suit she’d seen him in earlier today, and his straw colored hair looked ruffled as if he’d repeatedly run his hand through it.
“Thank you for coming, Detective,” the mayor said. He motioned for Clemmons to sit, but the detective ignored him. Rather, he took the mayor’s place at the hostess stand.
Clemmons cleared his throat. “First, I want to remind everyone to continue to cooperate with the police during the ongoing investigation of Archie’s death.”
“You mean murder,” Candace said, her blue eyes wide behind tortoiseshell frame glasses.
Clemmons glared at Candace for interrupting. “As I was saying, if you saw anything or have information of interest, I urge you to come forward to the police.” He eyed Lucy and his mustache twitched with annoyance.
“What about Archie’s store?” Harold Harper asked.
Lucy’s gaze turned to Harold. She was reminded again that Harold and Archie had disliked each other. She thought his question was out of left field. Did he really have to ask about the store? A man had been murdered. Is business all he cared about?
“The store has been cleared and can open for business later this week,” Clemmons said.
“Who’s going to run it?” Harold asked.
“His nephew, Neil.”
“I’ll be damned,” Harold muttered.
“What about the festival?” Lola asked.
“The festival is hereby officially canceled,” Detective Clemmons said.
Gasps echoed around the room followed by loud voices. The mayor rapped his gavel. “Order! Order!” It took a full minute before the crowd calmed.
“Mayor Huckerby said the festival had been postponed. There’s a big difference between postponed and canceled,” Lola said.
“What about our livelihoods? We need the business to survive the winter,” Guido said.
Clemmons’s hands tightened on the edges of the hostess stand. “Right now, my priority is finding the culprit, not the status of the beach festival.”
Lucy looked around the room. Archie wasn’t particularly liked, but who hated him enough to kill him? Did Harold have that much of a beef with his business neighbor? Or was it someone else? Someone in the room?
She knew them all.
The thought that one of them could be a cold-blooded killer made a sickening pit yawn in her stomach. They were now all her neighbors and friends. She didn’t want any of them to suffer.
Lucy marveled at her change of attitude. It had been less than a year since she’d returned home, and she felt fiercely protective of these hardworking people.
“What if the killer is found? Will the festival resume?” Lucy asked.
All heads turned to her.
“Are you volunteering?” Harold asked, his lips twisting in a haughty grin.
“No, she is not,” Detective Clemmons snapped. “If you have additional information, you will see me. Otherwise, you will stay out of this, Ms. Berberian. Got it?”
“Of course,” Lucy said. His harsh tone was more evidence that the detective distrusted her
.
“As soon as the police make an arrest, we can revisit the matter of the beach festival,” Clemmons said.
Lola raised her hand. “What’s the plan until the killer is found? The reports and news vans will swarm our little town—no offense, Stan.”
“None taken,” Stan mumbled.
“They’ll chase away the tourists that are already here,” Lola finished.
“The county prosecutor could get involved,” Katie said.
Lucy’s stomach tilted at the mention of Marsha Walsh. The wily prosecutor would not be happy to learn that Lucy had found the body. Again. Their past was rocky at best.
“Seems there is nothing we can do about bad press,” Ben said. His bushy eyebrows slanted downward in a frown.
Harold cleared his throat. “I want to know one thing. Did anyone ask Archie’s girlfriend where she was when he was killed?”
For a pulse-pounding moment, silence engulfed the room.
“Who?” Lola asked.
“Archie’s girlfriend. Rita Sides,” Harold said.
Had Archie been dating Rita, a beautician at The Big Tease Salon? Lucy had no idea they were a couple, but then again, she’d been busy managing the restaurant and avoided engaging in gossip. But by the look on everyone’s faces, she didn’t think they’d known either.
“Isn’t it always the spouse or girlfriend who’s guilty?” Harold said.
Katie stood. “Don’t throw Rita under the bus when she’s not here to defend herself. You’re just trying to draw attention away from yourself, Harold. It’s no secret you and Archie had no love for one another.”
Harold glowered at her. “Look who’s talking,” he snarled. “You all but came to blows with Archie over the sand sculpture contest and ousted him as a judge. I say you’re the one who’s pointing fingers and trying to draw attention from yourself.”
People stared wide-eyed. Everyone loved gossip and these two were giving them fodder to last all year. Plus, Harold had mentioned the fight on the beach. What would happen if they learned Archie had also stormed the town hall with a big chip on his shoulder and had it out with Katie?
