One Feta in the Grave

by Tina Kashian

  “The pastry chef is renowned here,” Azad said.

  Lucy agreed, and her eyelids fluttered close as the crème brûlée melted on her tongue. Heaven. “You think we can hire him?”

  “It’s a her, and no. We couldn’t afford her. Besides, we’re a Mediterranean restaurant, remember?”

  “I can dream, can’t I?” She savored another spoonful.

  Leveling his gaze on her, he said, “I like to watch you eat.”

  She blinked and lowered her spoon. “You do?”

  “You eat with abandon.”

  She felt her cheeks grow warm. Was she unladylike? She swallowed and wondered if she did something wrong. She didn’t think so. Not from the way he was looking at her. His gaze looked . . . intense . . . heated.

  Wow. What was she supposed to say to that? “I can’t help it. I like food.”

  “I don’t want you to help it. It’s a turn-on.”

  Double wow. All she had to do was eat—not hard for her—and he grew attracted. She grinned. “We should definitely do this more often.”

  His look intensified. The moment was broken when the attentive waiter returned to refill their water glasses.

  “I promised Katie I’d bring home dessert,” she said. “Katie’s a chocoholic so I’ll go with the cream puffs with chocolate sauce.”

  Azad cleared his throat. “No problem.” He ordered extra cream puffs, and soon Lucy was handed a little take-out box with the Le Gabriel label. She could envision Katie’s joy when she gave it to her.

  “Let’s take a walk. The restaurant has nice grounds,” Azad said.

  They left the restaurant and followed a lit path to the restaurant’s expansive grounds overlooking the ocean. The sun had gone down and the moon was full. A gleaming, white gazebo shone beneath the moonlight. Lucy had heard that the restaurant catered onsite wedding receptions. The food was fabulous and the view was lovely. Brides would clamor to have their special day here, and fathers would spend a fortune to accommodate their daughters. She envisioned a happy bride and groom having their pictures taken inside the gazebo.

  Azad took her hand as they walked. The humidity had ebbed and a cool breeze felt wonderful on her cheeks. The sounds of the ocean waves echoed through the night.

  They reached the gazebo. She leaned against the railing, and stole a glimpse at him through lowered lashes. Half his features were illuminated by moonlight, the other half in darkness.

  “I’m sorry about the beach festival being canceled,” he said.

  “Me, too. I was hoping Detective Clemmons would put it on hold, not cancel it outright.”

  He shrugged as if there wasn’t much difference. He was most likely right. The result would be the same. The town had already begun to suffer economically, and if they never found the murderer, it could even harm next year’s season.

  “Do you know anyone who would have wanted Archie dead?” she asked.

  Azad joined her at the railing and looked down at her. “No. Why all the questions? You aren’t thinking about solving the murder yourself, are you?”

  She immediately shook her head. “No. Why would you think that?”

  “I know you, Lucy. Better than most. I recognize the gleam in your eye,” he said.

  Her spine straightened. “What gleam?”

  “That little light in your eyes when you are up to something.”

  She blinked.

  “You also have a ‘tell’ when you’re lying. A muscle ticks by your left eye,” he said, stepping close.

  Her heart fluttered wildly in her breast. She was reminded of when he’d pointed out her “tell” in the past. She’d known him for more than half her life, and his instincts could be troublesome when she wanted to keep something hidden.

  She raised her chin a notch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Just because you figured out the last two crimes in Ocean Crest doesn’t mean you should do it again. You gave me gray hairs after your narrow escape in a killer’s car. Remember that?”

  How could she forget that nail-biting event?

  “Promise you won’t get involved. Stay safe. I don’t want to lose you after I just found you again.”

  His fervent words, combined with his intense look, caused shivers to travel down her spine.

  “Are you cold?” He took off his jacket and put it around her. Immediately, his heat enveloped her and the pleasant scent of his cologne teased her senses.

  “Lucy?”

  “Hmm.”

  “I want to kiss you.”

  She felt her face flush. I want to kiss you, too.

  Rather than speak, she stood on tiptoe and met him halfway. His large hand cradled her face and held it gently as his lips caressed hers once, twice, driving her a bit mad. She clutched his shirt and gave a little tug. Thankfully, he got the message. Gathering her into his arms, he pulled her close and deepened the kiss. Sizzling silk met cotton, and she kissed him back, lingering, savoring every moment. She melted against him, and her knees grew weak.

  The take-out box dropped to the floor with a small thud. Lucy didn’t bother to look down to see if Katie’s dessert was safe. Cream puffs were the last thing on her mind.

  He pulled back and looked in her eyes. “Wow,” he said, his voice husky. “That’s even better than I remembered.”

  Beneath his transfixed gaze, her heart pounded. “Yes, it was.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Azad held Lucy’s hand as they drove back. The move felt comfortable and right, and she entwined her fingers with his. Tonight had changed things between them. The romantic atmosphere of Le Gabriel, the sumptuous food, the moonlit gazebo . . . the kiss. It was a memory she would relive for a long time.

  Soon the WELCOME TO OCEAN CREST sign came into view, and they came to the first of three stoplights in town.

  “Katie will be upset.” Once they had separated from their kiss, Lucy had looked down in dismay to see cream puffs scattered on the deck of the gazebo.

  She pushed aside any regrets. The kiss had been worth it. She’d make it up to Katie another way.

  Azad squeezed her hand. “I’ll stop at Cutie’s Cupcakes first thing tomorrow morning and get her a pie and a dozen doughnuts.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you, but I should be the one to take her to Cutie’s. I’ll also be sure to deliver lunch Monday morning, too.”

  Sirens sounded outside, battering the amicable atmosphere in the truck. Frowning, Lucy lowered her window and stirred uneasily in her seat. “Those sirens sound really close.”

  “Can you tell which direction they are coming from?” Azad asked.

  Lucy released Azad’s hand to lean out the window. “Oh, no! I see blue and red police lights headed in the direction of Kebab Kitchen.”

  The stoplight turned green, and Azad pressed the pedal to the metal. The truck sped down Ocean Avenue.

  “No,” he said as they got closer. “It’s past the restaurant.”

  Relief flood through her as they passed Kebab Kitchen’s striped awning. There were no police cars or ambulances anywhere near the building. She swore she saw Gadoo’s glowing eyes as he sprinted across the parking lot toward the fence that separated the restaurant from Michael’s bicycle rental shop.

  Azad drove past one of the ramps leading to the boardwalk, and Lucy spied three cop cars parked between the buildings. “Oh, no. That’s where the Gray sisters’ shop is located.”

  Azad pulled the truck over and killed the engine. “Let’s go see.”

  Lucy didn’t wait for him to open the door, but hopped down herself. “Next time I’m not listening to Katie and wearing my flats,” she grumbled as she hurried as fast as she could in her high heels.

  “You agree to a next date, then?”

  She stole a glance at him. “I suppose I do.”

  A corner of Azad’s lips curled in a grin.

  Under any other circumstances, she would have analyzed his reaction, but there was no time as they rushed up the boardw
alk ramp.

  They both came to a halt as soon as they reached the boards. It wasn’t the Gray sisters’ shop.

  It was Seaside Gifts—Archie’s store.

  A police barricade had been set up to keep curious onlookers away. It was late, after the shops had closed, and thankfully there were only a few boardwalk strollers watching as the police processed the scene. The Gray sisters huddled together outside their own shop, their expressions grim. Harold stood outside his own store.

  Lucy approached the elderly spinsters. Edna was twisting her hands, and Edith’s arms were folded tightly across her chest.

  “A travesty. We haven’t had a burglary in over ten years,” Edna said.

  “It’s been that long?” Azad asked.

  Edith clucked her tongue. “Michelle Palmer’s herb and vitamin shop was robbed back then. But that was because the thief thought she sold cannabis.”

  Lucy held in a chuckle. Michelle Palmer was a bona fide hippie from the sixties who’d most likely had marijuana growing in her backyard.

  “Who called the police tonight?” Azad asked.

  “We did,” Edna said. “We noticed something off. The rolling security gate was open by about two feet. Enough for someone to slip beneath.”

  “Not just someone. A burglar,” Edith chimed in.

  Lucy knew the shops did not have doors they could lock at the end of each business day. Instead they had rolling security gates that were lowered in the evenings and raised each morning.

  “Do they know what was taken?” Azad asked.

  Both sisters looked at each other, then shook their heads. “No clue.”

  “Where’s Neil?” Lucy asked.

  Edith pointed to the far end of the shop. “Standing with Detective Clemmons.”

  Lucy’s gaze followed to where they pointed to see both Neil and Clemmons. Neil wore a white tank top and basketball shorts. His hair was disheveled, and some of the long locks stuck out in different directions. She couldn’t tell if he’d just woken up or if he had returned from an outing with friends.

  Neil was gesturing with his hands as Clemmons scribbled on the small notebook he carried in his shirt pocket. Lucy inwardly cringed. She’d been on the other end of the detective’s interrogation more than once with Clemmons jotting down her answers to his questions.

  “Excuse me a moment.” Lucy slipped past the police barricade and approached the rolling security gate, which had been raised a little more than half way now to allow police to enter and leave. No one noticed her. Clemmons was occupied with Neil, and the other officers were inside the shop. Lucy stared at the gate. Something fluttered in the ocean breeze and caught her eye. She inched closer to study it.

  What on earth was that?

  A piece of red fabric that had snagged on the bottom of the gate.

  “What is it?” Azad asked, causing her to jump.

  She hadn’t realized he’d followed her. “I’m not sure, but it looks like a piece of clothing—possibly a shirt.”

  Just then, Officer Bill Watson stepped out from the store.

  “Bill!” Lucy called out.

  Bill approached, his brow furrowed. “Katie said you were both going out tonight. What are you two doing here?”

  “We were on our way home when Lucy heard the sirens. What happened here?” Azad asked.

  “Someone broke in,” Bill said.

  Lucy frowned. “We can see that. Do you know who or what was taken?”

  “We don’t know who and it doesn’t look like anything was taken. The thief used a small jack to pry open the rolling security gate just enough for him to slip beneath the gate and enter the store. Thanks to the Gray sisters’ vigilance, the prowler was interrupted. But he fled before we could catch him.”

  Lucy spotted a cop taking pictures of what looked like a small jack that could be found in the trunk of a car to fix a flat tire. The thief must have left it behind in his flight to escape the police. They’d dust it for fingerprints, but if the criminal had used gloves, they would be out of luck.

  “Did anyone get a look at the burglar?” Azad asked.

  “Unfortunately, no,” Bill said.

  “He may have left something behind.” Lucy pointed out the red fabric speared on the end of the security gate.

  Bill stepped close to take a look and scratched his head. “I’ll be dammed. You’re right.”

  “It could be a piece of the burglar’s shirt or pants. Maybe the burglar snagged himself on the gate as he hurried to get away. Based on the thick cotton, I’d say it was from a sweatshirt or sweatpants,” Lucy said.

  “I’ll bag it and send it for processing. Good eye, Lucy.” Bill left to fetch an evidence bag.

  Azad and Lucy backed up to allow the police to work. “How’d you see that small scrap?” Azad asked.

  Lucy shrugged. “I just did.”

  Azad looked at her with renewed interest. “You should have been a cop, not a restaurant manager. You seem to have better instincts than all of them.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The following morning, Lucy woke early and showed up for her cooking lesson. She knew better than to keep her mother waiting. Angela was used to waking up at the crack of dawn to work in the kitchen. Lucy had mistakenly thought her mother would have given up the early-morning work ritual once she was partly retired.

  She’d proven Lucy wrong.

  They needed to prepare baklava and kufta this morning. Lucy had already learned how to prepare baklava and the flaky buttered pastry with walnuts, cinnamon, and a simple sugar syrup was one of her favorites. She had yet to prepare kufta, but she knew the basic ingredients were ground meat and bulgur mixed together in what looked like a large meatball. The kufta could be served in a broth soup or by itself in a savory tomato sauce.

  “Be careful when you unroll the phyllo dough. I don’t want any tears,” Angela said.

  Yes, sir, Lucy almost bit out then caught her tongue. No sense teasing her mother. When it came to stamina in the kitchen, her mother was in a league of her own. Lucy would never be able to compete. The woman could prepare fifteen trays of baklava in one morning without breaking a sweat. Lucy’s record was eight and that was with aching feet and a sore back from bending over the worktable to butter the endless sheets of phyllo dough.

  But Lucy didn’t mind. She was smart enough to acknowledge that when it came to Mediterranean cooking, she could never find a better teacher. Angela meant well and truly wanted Lucy to learn. Cooking was a way to connect with each other—a mother and daughter bonding session—and Lucy had come to appreciate their time together.

  As Lucy spread the delicate phyllo sheets, each the thickness of a sheet of newspaper, her thoughts turned back to last night. Her date with Azad had gone well, better than she’d ever expected. Her mind relived the moment they’d kissed. The chemistry was still there—only stronger now that they were older and more experienced. It would take a long time to forget how warm and sweet his lips had been, how her knees had weakened like wet noodles when he’d deepened the kiss, and how muscular his chest had felt when she’d snuggled against him.

  How would she look at him in the kitchen today and not think about that kiss?

  “Lucy!”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you paying any attention to what I’ve said? You need to chop the walnuts in the food processor.”

  “Sorry, Mom. I’m on it.”

  Her mother eyed her with suspicious intensity that made the hair of Lucy’s nape stand on end. It was the same look she’d given Lucy and Emma as teenagers when they tried to slip a ten-dollar bill from their mother’s purse.

  “What’s wrong with you? Why are you distracted?” Angela asked.

  “I’m not.”

  “Hmm. I know my daughter and your mind is elsewhere.”

  Uh-oh. That she’d gone on a romantic dinner date with Azad at a fancy French restaurant was not something she wanted to confess to her mother. Her matchmaking mama would run out and reserve the church for th
eir wedding. Lucy’s mind scrambled with an excuse for her distraction.

  “I was thinking about the break-in at Archie’s shop last night,” Lucy said.

  Angela’s buttered pastry brush clattered on the worktable. “There was a robbery?”

  “The Gray sisters noticed something amiss and called the police. The thief fled. Fortunately, nothing was taken.”

  Angela crossed herself. “First a murder, now a burglary. What’s going? Ocean Crest has always been a friendly and safe town.”

  Lucy didn’t have the heart to bring up the past crime since she’d returned home and kept quiet.

  “Do you think Archie’s murder and the break-in of his shop are related?” her mother asked.

  Most likely. “I’m not sure.” Lucy hadn’t given it much thought, but it made sense. Archie had been murdered, then days later, his store had been broken into. It was too much of a coincidence to be overlooked.

  Her mother patted her hand. “I’m just grateful you’re safe and with me now. No more sleuthing for you or putting yourself in danger.”

  Lucy swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “You don’t have to worry about me, Mom.”

  Angela nodded, satisfied with Lucy’s answer. “All right. How about I turn on the TV while we work? Cooking Kurt’s show comes on soon.”

  Lucy knew that her mother liked to watch the hot celebrity chef while she worked. Angela claimed it was because of his recipes, but when Kurt flexed his muscles while taking out a heavy roasting pan from the oven, she’d caught her mother’s admiring gaze.

  At that moment, her father, Raffi, stepped in the kitchen, took one look at the television, and frowned. “Why do you watch that nonsense?”

  “It’s not nonsense. It’s cooking.” Her mother’s chin rose an inch.

  Her father’s brow wrinkled.

  Oh, no.

  Her parents quarreled about a lot of things, but Cooking Kurt was a big bone of contention between them. When the celebrity chef hosted a book signing a few weeks ago at Pages Bookstore, Lucy had taken her mother. Raffi had refused.