One Feta in the Grave

by Tina Kashian

  Her heart gave an anxious little jolt. “I’d like that.”

  “Azad!” a booming masculine voice shouted from the kitchen.

  Lucy jumped.

  Azad rolled his eyes. “Butch needs bulgur,” he said, then picked up the heavy bag.

  “I better let you get back to work then.” She turned to leave when his voice stopped her.

  “And, Lucy?”

  “Yes?”

  His irresistible grin made her pulse leap. “I’m glad you’re staying out of it.”

  She waited until he was gone, before taking a deep breath and smoothing her hair. A trickle of guilt pierced her chest, but she pushed it aside. She wasn’t exactly “staying out of it,” but she was doing her best to stay safe. If a dinner with Michael and Mr. Citteroni could lead to some answers that she could share with Bill, then it was worth the risk.

  One thing was clear—she felt better and made a mental note to go back to Madame Vega’s soon. The cards had helped with her love life, but would they help solve the murder?

  CHAPTER 14

  “Are you sure about this?’ Katie asked as she rocked on the wicker rocking chair in Lucy’s bedroom.

  “I’m sure,” Lucy said. “I won’t be alone with Mr. Citteroni. Michael’s coming with me.”

  “Still. I have the feeling you’re walking into the lion’s den.”

  “You’re not helping my nerves. Now, how do I look?” Lucy smoothed the skirt of her blue dress. She wore ballet flats from her closet and had refused the killer heels Katie had offered. Her ankle was a still a bit tender from when she’d tripped on the boardwalk, and the flats were comfortable. Besides, Michael may be over six feet, but Mr. Citteroni was short. No need to tower over the man.

  Katie stood and picked a piece of lint from Lucy’s skirt. “You look beautiful. Michael’s going to gape.”

  They headed into the living room, and Katie pulled aside the curtains overlooking the driveway. “Michael’s here. No motorcycle, but a respectable mid-sized, two-door sedan.”

  Lucy took one last look in the hallway mirror on her way to the door. She’d used a large-barrel curling iron, and her hair fell in loose curls and brushed her shoulders. She’d let Katie apply her makeup and she had to admit that the effect was pretty and very different from her everyday appearance at the restaurant.

  Michael’s eyes widened when she opened the door. “Wow! You look great, Lucy.”

  “Thanks. So do you.” He looked handsome in a dark shirt and jacket with tailored pants. She’d only ever seen him in faded jeans and a leather motorcycle jacket.

  They headed outside, and Lucy glimpsed back to see Katie smiling in the window. Her friend reminded Lucy of her mother when Lucy had left the house as a teenager with a date.

  Michael opened the car door for her and then walked around to the driver’s seat. Soon, they were driving down Ocean Avenue. “My dad was curious when I told him you were asking about Archie.”

  “Curious in a good way?”

  “You can never tell with him. But the fact that he asked for you to join us for dinner tonight tells me that he has information for you.”

  “He couldn’t just pass it along through you?”

  Michael’s smile turned into a chuckle. “You don’t know my dad. That would ruin all the fun.”

  Fun? She didn’t want to be Mr. Citteroni’s entertainment for the evening, but she did want to hear his side of the story. Had Archie and Mr. Citteroni exchanged words over Archie’s plans to open another bicycle rental shop? And how had that conversation turned out?

  “We’re here,” Michael said, interrupting her thoughts.

  Lucy looked out the window to see a quaint redbrick building with a yellow awning. Blooms of vinca, marigolds, and geraniums added pops of color to the landscaping. The red sign read NONNA IN CUCINA.

  “Grandmother in the Kitchen,” Lucy translated. “What a great name for an Italian restaurant.”

  “You’ll love the food, too.” He put the car in park and turned to look at her. “Ready?”

  “Let’s not keep your father waiting.”

  He escorted her inside and after giving his name to a hostess, who looked like a grandmother dressed in a long black dress with gray hair pulled back into a bun, they were led to the back of the restaurant where a lone man sat at a table. A bottle of wine rested in a wine holder with ice.

  Mr. Citteroni stood when he spotted them. “It’s good to see you again, Ms. Berberian,” he said in a deep voice. Stocky and short, he had a square face, thick eyebrows, black eyes, and thinning, dark hair. Before she could respond, he raised her fingers and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. His mustache tickled her skin, and she experienced a moment of trepidation.

  “Thank you for inviting me,” she said.

  “We haven’t had a chance to speak since Michael’s birthday party a while back, remember?”

  How could she forget? Mr. Citteroni had invited her to Michael’s surprise birthday party at a Victorian mansion in Cape May. The evening had turned disturbing when he’d introduced her to one of his associates, a man Lucy and Katie had previously followed.

  But that was long ago. She was now here at his invitation.

  “Please sit,” Mr. Citteroni said. “I took the liberty of ordering appetizers. I hope you like mussels and calamari. They are a specialty here.”

  Lucy’s mood buoyed at the mention of the food. She was famished. “I like both.”

  A waiter approached to fill their wineglasses and set a large bowl of mussels on the table. The first mussel easily came out of its shell, and Lucy popped it into her mouth. The spicy sauce combined with the tender muscle was delicious. The calamari were fantastic as well.

  She glanced at the menu and everything looked tempting. She was torn between fettuccini with Bolognese sauce and veal scaloppini. She settled on the fettuccini. The waiter returned and took their orders and refilled their wineglasses.

  “Michael tells me you want to know about my dealings with Archie Kincaid.”

  Lucy sipped her wine. “Did you have dealings?”

  He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I have dealings with many people, in Ocean Crest and outside of town.”

  No doubt. He was legendary. She’d always feared him as a kid. Heck, with the Godfather vibe, he still intimidated her. “Michael said you knew that Archie wanted to open a bicycle rental shop in town. How did you find out?”

  “Archie told me.”

  “He did?”

  “We were waiting in the township office. I needed to pay my real estate taxes; he claimed he was applying for a mercantile license. That’s when Archie told me of his business intentions.”

  Lucy looked at him in surprise. She was expecting Mr. Citteroni to admit that he’d learned the truth through one of his many associates, not from Archie himself. “How did that make you feel?” Lucy asked.

  “You mean was I angry enough to have him killed?”

  Lucy swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. If anything, Mr. Citteroni was forthright. “Did you?”

  He shook his head. “No. But I admit that I wasn’t pleased. I’ve had the only bicycle rental shop in town for years. I wasn’t about to let anyone encroach on my territory.”

  “How could you have stopped him?” Lucy asked.

  His mouth spread into a thin-lipped smile. “I have my ways. It turns out I didn’t need to use any of them.”

  That was true. Someone had put a bullet in Archie for him. Mr. Citteroni no longer had to worry about a second bicycle shop opening in town.

  The food arrived, and Lucy picked up her fork and took a bite. The Bolognese meat sauce was hearty and flavorful and the fettuccini was cooked perfectly. The dish was topped with freshly grated Parmesan cheese and everything blended together in a forkful of heaven.

  “You still have questions?” Mr. Citteroni asked.

  Yes, she did. A lot of them. “What did you think of Archie?”

  “Arrogance in a man is good, but only
if he has the power to back it. Archie Kincaid did not.”

  Mr. Citteroni hadn’t liked him. And from her own experiences with Archie, she tended to agree with him. Archie had been arrogant to a fault.

  Maybe it was the wine talking, but Lucy decided to be even more forthright. “Do you know who could have killed him?”

  Mr. Citteroni lowered his wine, his dark eyes assessing her. “Politics, like business, can be dirty.”

  Her brow furrowed in confusion. “What exactly are you saying?”

  “Ocean Crest will have an election for a new mayor next spring.”

  She knew their current mayor, Thomas Huckerby, was retiring from politics. What did that have to do with Archie?

  “I know Mayor Huckerby had denied Archie’s license to open another business. Did you have anything to do with the mayor’s decision?” Lucy asked.

  “You mean did I influence the mayor? I already told you I have many ways. It would not have been beyond me, but no, I did not influence the mayor,” Mr. Citteroni said.

  She tilted her head to the side and regarded him. “Then what does politics have to do with Archie’s murder? I’m not following.”

  “Ben Hawkins, the town barber, threw his hat in for election. He is running unopposed,” Michael added.

  Lucy had heard this, but she didn’t stay on top of local politics. Both Ben and Mayor Huckerby had been at the emergency festival committee meeting. “What does this have to do with the shooting?” The answer struck her just as she finished asking the question. She looked from Michael to Mr. Citteroni. “Did Archie have some dirt on Ben? Something that would hurt his chances for election for mayor?”

  Her question was cut short when the waiter arrived with dessert. A plate of tiramisu was placed before her along with cappuccino with a sugar stick for stirring. Despite her desire to reach for her spoon, she held still and kept eye contact with Mr. Citteroni.

  “I have many acquaintances. I asked a few of them the same question before agreeing to meet you,” Mr. Citteroni said.

  She held her breath. “And what did they say?”

  He picked up his spoon, ate a bite of tiramisu, then took his time to answer. “You followed one of my men once. I think you should follow Mr. Hawkins.”

  Lucy froze. She’d suspected he’d learned about her and Katie’s surveillance of his henchman months ago, but he’d never directly said anything to her. Anxiety kicked in her gut.

  Was that one of the reasons he’d asked her to meet for dinner? So he could tell her he knew she’d meddled in his business in the past and give her critical information about Archie’s murder?

  “Like I said, Ms. Berberian, politics is a dirty business,” Mr. Citteroni said, then continued to eat his dessert.

  It was clear that he was finished speaking. Michael had once said his father enjoyed toying with people like a puppeteer playing with a marionette’s strings. Lucy certainly felt like a marionette at the moment. But she was grateful. Mr. Citteroni had shared important information with her.

  She glanced at Michael and he shrugged a shoulder. She knew, without a doubt, that her friendship with Michael had aided her with his father.

  Her mind spun as she ate her tiramisu and contemplated Mr. Citteroni’s mysterious words. Was Ben a gambler in Atlantic City? Did he have a criminal rap sheet? He wasn’t married so he couldn’t be cheating on a spouse.

  The question was: What dirt had Archie had on the future mayor of Ocean Crest?

  * * *

  Stan Slade was the last person Lucy wanted to run into on her way to town hall to see Katie during her lunch hour. A hot pizza box in her arms, Lucy was bringing Katie lunch and planned to summarize her dinner conversation with Mr. Citteroni last night.

  “Ms. Berberian, what are you doing here?”

  Lucy glanced at the pizza box as if the answer was obvious. “I’m delivering lunch for a friend.”

  Stan sneered at her. “I thought you worked in a Mediterranean restaurant.” He was stocky and muscular. Dressed in a shirt and tie, he didn’t look like he had much of a neck, his head resting directly on his shoulders.

  “I’ve been craving pizza, and Guido Morelli makes the best,” Lucy said.

  He eyed her though his black-rimmed glasses. “Any chance you’ll give me a quick interview about the boardwalk shooting?”

  Lucy blinked. “I have nothing to say.”

  “Sure you do. You found the body, and my readers want to read all about it.”

  “No.”

  She’d rather get a flu shot than give him an interview. Knowing Stan, he’d twist her words and take something out of context.

  “You were quick to call me for publicity for your wine and food tasting. But when things go south, you’re not willing to talk?” he said.

  “That’s right.”

  “Is that pizza for your friend Katie?” he asked.

  “None of your business.”

  He drew his lips in a tight smile. “Really? Last I heard, Mrs. Watson was a person of interest.”

  She glowered at him. “Where do you get your information? I thought reporters had to confirm their facts.”

  Stan lowered his voice a notch. “You can put me off as long as you like, but I’m not leaving town anytime soon.”

  Footsteps on the tile drew their attention. They turned to see Katie step into the vestibule.

  “Hey, Lucy. We can eat on the bench outside and . . .” Katie stopped short at the sight of Stan standing behind Lucy. “Oh, I didn’t realize you weren’t alone.”

  “It’s okay. Mr. Slade has town hall business. I just happened to run into him here.”

  Stan glanced from Katie back to Lucy. “I’m here to see the tax assessor. It’s part of my research about an upcoming tax assessment in town. The only thing more important to my readers than taxes is murder.”

  Katie’s brow knit, but she didn’t rise to the bait. “The tax assessor is in his office. You can head on back.”

  Katie took Lucy’s arm and ushered her outside. “What was that about?”

  “Stan’s getting antsy about an interview. He actually mentioned that you were a person of interest.”

  “Damn!”

  “Either way, we have to be careful around him,” Lucy said.

  They headed for a single bench that rested beneath a tall sycamore tree in front of the building. Lucy set the pizza box down on the bench, and they sat. “It’s a margarita pizza from Guido’s pizzeria.”

  “Smells great.”

  Katie opened the pizza box and inhaled the scent of fresh mozzarella, basil, and tomato sauce. Lucy had brought paper plates and napkins and they helped themselves.

  “I’m glad I went to meet Mr. Citteroni. But I was also happy that Michael was there. His father still makes me nervous,” Lucy said.

  “I take it he told you something useful.”

  “He did.” After quickly summarizing her conversation with Mr. Citteroni the prior evening, Lucy took a bite of pizza. She chewed slowly, then swallowed. “Mr. Citteroni also said Ben is running for town mayor.”

  “That’s right. Thomas Huckerby is stepping down,” Katie said.

  “Mr. Citteroni suggested that Archie had something that could harm Ben’s chances of election.”

  Katie whistled through her teeth. “Ben’s running unopposed, but that could change. If Archie had dirt on Ben, it’s motive for murder. I wouldn’t put it past Archie to stoop low enough to use blackmail. Did Mr. Citteroni say what Archie had on Ben?”

  “No.” Lucy’s lips drew in as she thought. “He told me to spy on Ben.”

  “Spy? How?”

  “We can always set up a stakeout and follow him.”

  “Are you crazy?” Katie glared at her.

  Even though Katie loved watching crime and detective shows, she was hesitant to act like a detective herself.

  “Why? We did it before, we have experience,” Lucy said.

  “One time does not make us experts,” Katie argued. “Plus, we b
arely escaped unscathed, remember?”

  It would be a long time before Lucy forgot their narrow escape in a dark back alley. “You’re right. We’ll have to think of a way.”

  “When? Archie’s funeral is tomorrow,” Katie pointed out.

  “Let me think about—”

  Lucy’s thought was cut off by the scrape of footsteps on the walkway. She looked up to see Harold Harper barrel toward them. Sunlight glinted off his reddish hair, and his goatee was untrimmed. He was dressed in an untucked, collarless shirt, tan cargo shorts, and sandals.

  “Why am I not surprised to see you two together again, ladies?” Harold said.

  “I work here,” Katie said.

  His gaze turned to Lucy. “Her, too?”

  “No,” Lucy said.

  Harold shrugged. “I’m here to renew my dog license.”

  “I handle that,” Katie said.

  “I didn’t know you had a dog,” Lucy said.

  “A ten-year-old bulldog.” Harold whipped out his wallet to show her a picture of a solid, barrel-bodied bulldog lounging on a couch. “That’s Axel.”

  The dog looked like the owner. Or the owner looked like the dog. It was uncanny.

  Harold snapped his wallet closed and shoved it into his back pocket. “I never thanked you for ousting Archie at the sand sculpture contest, Mrs. Watson.”

  Lucy and Katie both stared at him in surprise. Archie was dead and he showed no remorse. He’d been the one to point his finger at Rita at the emergency beach festival committee meeting, and when Katie had stuck up for the beautician, Harold had been quick to point the finger at Katie.

  And now he was thanking her?

  Katie sat straight. “I find it disconcerting the way you talk about Archie.”

  “Why?” Harold asked.

  “Because he’s dead,” Lucy said.

  “There was no love lost between us. I wasn’t the only one Archie rubbed the wrong way. If you ask me, the shooter did us all a favor.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Thursday rolled around, and Lucy and Katie contemplated not attending Archie’s funeral, but at the last minute they decided to go and pay their respects. Most of the town would attend the Catholic church on the corner of Ocean Avenue and Shell Street that morning, and Lucy felt like they should join them.