by Tina Kashian
Based on the stubborn looks on both of her parents’ faces right now, Lucy needed to step in fast.
“Hey, Dad. What did you want to tell us?”
He scratched his chin. “Katie’s here. Should I tell her you’re busy?”
He knew Angela took their cooking lessons seriously, but Katie was family. Plus, it was Saturday and she didn’t work weekends. “No. Please, tell her to come into the kitchen. She can help.”
Her mother’s face brightened. “Good idea.”
Raffi left through the swinging kitchen doors and seconds later, Katie walked into the kitchen. “Hi, Mrs. Berberian,” she said cheerfully.
“Hello, Katie. Do you want to help? We’re almost finished with the baklava, and we need to move on to the kufta. I’ll be sure to send you home with some dinner.”
“Sure. Bill will be thrilled tonight.” Katie washed her hands, then slipped on an apron.
“I’ll fetch some extra bulgur,” Angela said, marching toward the storage room.
As soon as Angela was out of sight, Katie whispered, “Bill told me there was a break-in at Archie’s store. I can’t believe I missed all the fun last night,” Katie said.
“You were asleep when Azad dropped me off. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“That’s what Bill said when I asked him about it this morning.” Katie eyed the ingredients on the worktable. “Tell me what to do while we talk.”
“Mix the meat with the bulgur, then make a small pocket with your thumb, fill it with a teaspoon of pan-fried onions and seasoned ground beef, then roll it closed. It should be the size of a large meatball when you’re done.”
Katie eyed the ingredients on the prep table. “I had this before in a chicken broth soup. It was delicious. The first time I saw it, I thought it was matzo ball soup.”
“It looks like it, but it’s meat instead of matzo meal.”
Katie began hand rolling the mixture into a meatball. Angela returned to the kitchen with an extra bag of fine bulgur.
A familiar jingle sounded from a television mounted in the corner of the kitchen. Katie glanced up at the screen. “Look, Mrs. Berberian. It’s Cooking Kurt.” Katie had accompanied them to the chef’s book signing at Pages Bookstore.
“I try never to miss a new episode,” Angela said.
“I think he’s even better looking in person. What do you think?” Katie asked.
“He is, isn’t he?” Angela said wistfully. Then, in the space of a heartbeat, her expression changed to look serious and she cleared her throat. “I use his cookbook.”
“I bet it’s helpful.” A corner of Katie’s lip curled in a smile.
Angela looked flushed. “If you two don’t mind, I have work to do in the office.”
“Sure, Mom. We got it from here,” Lucy said.
As soon as Angela left the kitchen, Lucy chuckled. “There’s a small TV in the office.”
“Do they still argue about it?” Katie asked.
“They do. I keep telling my dad it’s harmless fun on my mom’s part, but he gets jealous.”
Katie rolled her eyes. “Parents.”
They continued to roll the kuftas. It was slow work, but with each attempt they improved at filling and rolling perfectly sized meatballs.
“My mom brought up a good point about the burglary,” Lucy said. “Do you think Archie’s murder and the break-in at his shop are connected?”
“Bill always says that coincidences aren’t always coincidences.” Katie set down a lopsided meatball, and looked at Lucy. “My gut tells me they’re connected, too. But you said nothing was taken.”
“The thief was interrupted. He snagged his clothes on the rolling security gate and left a piece of fabric behind.”
“Bill had said you noticed it. Red and black are the colors of Ocean Crest’s high school. Probably every household in town has a red hoodie or sweatpants,” Katie said.
“Another dead end?”
Lucy’s mind turned over what they knew so far. Rita admitted to attending the food and wine tasting. But despite opportunity, what was her motive? According to Rita, Archie was a great guy and he intended to propose. He even took her to Marion’s Jewelers to look for an engagement ring. It didn’t make sense for Rita to want Archie dead.
Harold disliked Archie. He was at the boardwalk and his rivalry with his business neighbor was notorious in town. He had opportunity and motive.
Neil had motive: money. He’d inherited Seaside Gifts. She’d seen his Firestone surfboard, and according to Jose, Neil owed a girlfriend money for the pricey board. Neil had also been at the food festival. Lucy saw him with Archie at the back of the bandstand when Katie had announced the winner of the sand sculpture contest. Had he somehow lured his uncle under the boardwalk and shot him?
“If the police found the gun it would help,” Katie said.
“If I was the killer, I would have tossed it off the boardwalk pier,” Lucy said.
“Me, too,” Katie said.
They continued to roll the meat mixture, lost in thought.
“Hey, Lucy.”
“Hmm.”
“I never asked you about your date with Azad.”
Lucy glanced around to be certain her parents weren’t within earshot. “It was good.”
“Just good?” Katie leaned close and whispered, “Spill it.”
“It was romantic and the food was fantastic.” She wouldn’t forget the escargot or the veal ragout or duck anytime soon.
“Where’s my dessert?” Katie asked.
Lucy felt her face grow red. “Ah . . . well . . . I had the waiter wrap perfect cream puffs, but I accidentally dropped the container.”
Katie shot her an incredulous look. “Dropped it? How?”
“We strolled around and one thing led to another and well . . . I dropped it.” Lucy’s heart pounded like a drum.
“You kissed Azad.” Katie’s blue eyes lit with excitement. “If you dropped my dessert it had to be a good kiss.”
It had been. Not just good, but amazing.
“Who kissed Azad?” a male voice asked.
Lucy and Katie jumped apart at the sight of Raffi standing in the doorway. Lucy felt lightheaded at the sight of her dad’s curious expression.
Oh, crap.
Katie looked wide-eyed and guilty. “Hi, Mr. Berberian. I’m helping Lucy cook.”
“I’m grateful, but I heard you say something.” His olive-black eyes met Lucy’s, and he gave her a big smile. “Are you and Azad dating? I’m pleased. Your mother and I have always wanted him for you.”
Lucy raised a hand. “Just stop, Dad. I’m not having this discussion with you.”
Raffi ignored her. “Fine. I’ll go fetch your mother. You can tell her all about it.”
“Don’t you dare!”
He shook a finger at her. “Don’t forget that you need Azad as the head chef. You can be very stubborn, Lucy.”
Lucy’s temper flared. “Just like you, Dad.”
He had the nerve to look shocked. “What are you talking about? I’m not stubborn.”
“Ha! Then why are you so against computerizing the inventory?” Lucy seized the moment to change the topic from Azad to the restaurant.
“That’s different. My method has worked just fine for thirty years. Why change it?”
“Because we can save countless hours each month counting the storage room shelves, the walk-in refrigerator and freezer. Inventory could be a breeze.”
“It doesn’t take that long,” he said.
“It does,” she argued. “I prefer not to stay late every Saturday night.”
Raffi nodded once. “Of course not. I should have suspected. You want to go out with Azad.”
“Dad!” Lucy almost ran her hand through her hair in exasperation, then remembered she’d been cooking. “Why are you here?”
“I almost forgot. The electrician, Jose, is here to finish installing the electrical boxes.” He gave her a knowing look. “Just so you realize, I didn�
�t protest your idea of the new fans.”
He had, but her father had selective memory. “Oh, and by the way, I obtained a copy of Mr. Alvarez’s electrician’s license and insurance for our records just in case our insurance company asks for documentation. Everything looks good,” Raffi said.
Lucy experienced a feeling of unease that had nothing to do with her parents learning of her date with Azad or her battle to update the restaurant with her father. She hadn’t bothered to check Jose’s license or insurance. She eyed her father with renewed interest. Raffi had handled the paperwork, bills, invoices, and inventory for years. He’d been teaching her, but she realized there was a lot more to learn about how to run a restaurant properly. If she was going to take her job as a manager seriously, and she wanted to, then she needed to master basic Mediterranean cooking from her mother and business from her father.
“Thanks, Dad. Where’s Jose?”
“Outside with his truck. He’ll be in soon. I’ll leave you ladies to your work,” Raffi said as he left the kitchen.
Once they were alone, Katie turned to Lucy. “Didn’t you say Jose had been working in Archie’s shop the day of the tasting? Maybe he’ll know how Neil is handling the break-in.”
They washed their hands and took off their aprons just as Jose, carrying his toolbox, was entering the storage room. “Hi, ladies.”
“Hi, Jose. Thanks again for the flan. It was delicious.”
“I have more in the truck for you from Maria.”
“That’s kind. I’ll share it with Katie.”
“She owes me dessert,” Katie chimed in.
“I’ll have freshly baked baklava for Maria,” Lucy said.
“She’s eating for two these days, so she’d love that,” Jose said. “It’s going to take me a couple of hours to finish installing the electrical boxes. I’ll be ready to put in the ceiling fans next week.”
“Thanks, Jose. Are you still working at Archie’s shop now that Neil is running it?” Lucy asked.
Jose shifted his toolbox from one hand to the other. “I finished my work there, but I haven’t submitted my bill yet. I feel bad doing it after what happened to Archie.”
If he’d completed his work, then chances are he wouldn’t know much about the burglary or Neil’s reaction. But still, it couldn’t hurt to ask. “We heard about the burglary. Do you know how Neil is handling it? I mean first he lost his uncle, and now the shop he inherited has been burglarized.”
“I can’t say. But I know Neil lives above the shop. He must have been worried to learn about a break-in,” Jose said.
“We still can’t believe it. There hasn’t been a burglary in town in a long time,” Katie said.
The room was silent as they all contemplated that fact. Then Lucy eyed Jose. “The burglar opened the rolling security gates with a small jack just far enough for him to slide through. How could someone do that?”
“The rolling security gates are manual, not electrical.”
“He’s right,” Katie said. “I’ve walked the boardwalk at night when shopkeepers lower their security gates.”
Jose nodded. “A few stores have motorized doors that I’ve serviced. But most don’t. Archie’s was manual. A crank and chain hoist assists someone to raise and lower the gates from inside the store. Owners can then leave their stores from a back storage room door.”
“Could someone just physically lift the gates?”
Jose chuckled. “Those gates weigh a ton. You’d need a small lift.”
“Like a car jack?”
“I guess that would do it.” He scratched his head. “But I also think the rolling, manual gates lock at the bottom from the inside. I don’t know how the burglar got past the lock even to use a jack to raise the gate.”
What little Lucy knew of Neil, she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d forgotten to lock it. “Thanks, Jose.”
He waved on his way to the dining room with his supplies.
Katie twirled her ponytail. “Neil doesn’t strike me as responsible. He probably lowered the gate, but must have forgotten to lock it.”
“That’s what I originally thought. But maybe we’re looking at this all wrong. Maybe Neil purposefully left the gate unlocked?”
“That doesn’t make sense. Why stage a break-in when you already live there and can take anything you want at any time?” Katie nibbled her bottom lip. “Unless Neil is worried he’s under suspicion for murder by Clemmons. Maybe he staged the burglary to draw attention away from himself?”
“It’s possible.” Another answer occurred to Lucy. “But there’s another scenario to consider. Neil’s in debt. What if he wanted to claim something valuable was stolen in order to file an insurance claim? He could have unlocked the gate and cranked it open a few feet in order to fake a robbery. Only, he had to ditch his efforts and take off when the Gray sisters called the police.”
“What’s so valuable that he’d fake a theft?” Katie asked.
“His pricey surfboard. Or the engagement ring Archie was planning to give Rita.”
“Maybe his inheritance isn’t enough to cover his surfing dreams,” Katie said. “After all, if Neil murdered his uncle, what’s one more crime?”
CHAPTER 12
“You don’t have to do this,” Katie said as she parked her Jeep outside of Cutie’s Cupcakes later that day.
“Of course, I do! I owe you for dropping your dessert,” Lucy said.
“The kiss was worth it though, wasn’t it?” Katie asked, a teasing note in her voice.
Lucy ignored her friend’s prodding for details. She was still processing her reaction to Azad’s kiss and what it meant to their relationship—in and out of the kitchen.
“What about you? Will you get a slice of lemon meringue pie?” Katie asked.
Lucy stepped out of the Jeep and shut the door. “Not today. I already have another of Maria Alvarez’s flans waiting for me at the restaurant.”
Lucy opened the door to the bakery, and they stepped inside. The aroma of freshly baked cookies wafted to her and made her mouth water. Susan was placing cookies the size of small saucers from a tray into a display case. A tall, refrigerated case displayed a variety of pies—apple, blueberry, cherry, and Lucy’s favorite lemon meringue.
“Hi, ladies,” Susan said brightly. “What can I get you today?”
Susan Cutie was in her early thirties with blond hair, blue eyes, and a quick smile. Lucy couldn’t understand how she was still single and didn’t weigh at least two hundred pounds from baking tempting desserts all day.
“Hi, Sue. I owe Katie dessert. What’s your most decadent cupcake?” Lucy asked as she approached the glass case showcasing an entire shelf of cupcakes.
“That’s easy. Double chocolate brownie chunk. Definitely decadent if you are a chocolate lover.”
“It’s too chocolatey,” Katie said.
Lucy shot Katie an incredulous look. “Is that even possible?”
“How about salted double caramel?” Susan offered.
Katie’s eyes widened like a kid’s on Christmas morning. “I’ll take it.”
Susan turned to Lucy. “What about you? A slice of lemon meringue?”
Both friends knew her so well. It wasn’t just Maria’s flan that held Lucy back today. She’d indulged at the French restaurant last night, and she needed to watch her calorie intake today. “Next time.”
Susan boxed the cupcake and handed it to Katie. Lucy dug into her purse and paid.
“Come back soon for that pie, Lucy,” Susan said as she headed to the back room of the bakery.
Lucy waved just as the shop’s bells chimed.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Katie whispered beneath her breath.
Lucy turned to see Rita Sides step inside the bakery. She couldn’t imagine skinny Rita had a sweet tooth. Her skintight jeans looked to be a size zero. Her highlighted hair was in a high ponytail and her bangs were teased and spiked up with hair gel. Her pencil-thin brows arched into triangles as soon as she spo
tted them. Did she wax them herself?
“Hi, Lucy.”
“Hi, Rita. Funny seeing you here. Sometimes I forget how small Ocean Crest is,” Lucy said.
“Actually, I was looking for you.”
“Me?” Lucy asked, surprised. They hadn’t exactly parted on amicable terms when she’d left the hair salon.
“I went to Kebab Kitchen and your father said you were headed to the bakery with your friend,” Rita said.
“That would be me,” Katie said.
Rita’s gaze flicked to Katie. “I know who you are. Beatrice cuts your hair. You’ve never seen me for a brow wax. You should make an appointment.”
An anxious look crossed Katie’s face, and she touched her eyebrow. “Why? Is something wrong with my brows?”
“Your eyebrows are fine, Katie.” Lucy looked at Rita. “What did you want to see me about, Rita?”
Susan returned from the back room carrying a plain iced cake. She stopped short when she spotted Rita. “Sorry, I didn’t know I had another customer. What can I help you with?”
“I’ll take a doughnut. Chocolate glazed. It’s Beatrice’s favorite at the salon,” Rita said.
Susan set the cake on the counter by pastry bags full of colorful icing. She took the doughnut out of the case, placed it in a bag, and handed it to Rita who slid a dollar bill across the counter.
“Tell Beatrice I said hello,” Susan said.
Rita waved and headed out the door.
Lucy and Katie were hot on her heels.
“Rita, wait! Why were you looking for me?” Lucy asked.
Rita swung around. “You asked me if I knew anyone who could have wanted to hurt my Archie.”
“That’s right,” Lucy said.
“I thought of someone. Anthony Citteroni.”
“Anthony Citteroni? Michael’s dad?”
“Yes,” Rita said.
Mr. Citteroni had mobster connections in Atlantic City, a few shore towns north of Ocean Crest. He owned numerous businesses in town, and it was rumored that he used them to launder money.
And his son, Michael, was her good friend.
