by Tina Kashian
“I understand Archie volunteered at a teenage drug clinic,” Lucy said.
“He did. The in-town clinic helped Neil. He no longer does drugs, but he’s still a deadbeat in my opinion. His artwork is mediocre at best, and he used to complain about working in the boardwalk store.”
Lucy’s suspicions had been correct. Neil had attended the clinic. Archie had then taken Neil into his home. It was the most redeeming quality she’d learned about Archie so far.
Kristin pulled out a bottle of sunscreen and began to apply it to her neck and chest. “The sun is strong. I don’t want wrinkles or sunspots.”
She’d probably have them surgically removed. Lucy pondered how to ask her about Archie’s death, then decided to be forthright. “Do you know who would want to harm Archie?”
Kristin froze, a dollop of sunscreen on her neck. “There are quite a few people who come to mind. But why ask? I already talked with a Mr. Clemson from the police.”
“You mean Detective Clemmons?”
“Yes. That’s it.”
Once again, Lucy was grateful that Clemmons had followed up and questioned Kristin. “Well, I’m staying with a friend. Her husband is an Ocean Crest police officer. Anything you can think of that you forgot to mention to Detective Clemmons would be helpful in finding Archie’s killer,” Lucy said.
“I already told the detective about Archie’s business neighbor, Harold. Archie complained about the man all the time. Archie claimed that Harold threatened him and said one of them had to go.”
“You think Harold shot Archie?”
“Why not? It would solve Harold’s problem. I’m aware Archie could be difficult.”
This wasn’t new information. “Anyone else you can think of?”
“My husband’s girlfriend.”
Lucy blinked. “Pardon?”
“Oh, I know it’s bound to come out if it hasn’t already. Archie had a girlfriend, a younger woman who worked at a hair salon in town,” Kristin said, her voice laced with distaste.
“I’m sorry.”
“Archie and I had a long-distance relationship. It was bound to happen.”
“You aren’t angry?”
“Now I am. I think the woman killed my husband when she realized Archie wouldn’t leave me for her.”
“I’ll be sure to pass on your concerns to my friend’s husband,” Lucy said.
“You do that.” Kristin leaned back in her chair and reached for her magazine. Clearly, Lucy had been dismissed.
“Enjoy the beach,” Lucy said, then headed back toward the boardwalk. Kristin had not revealed new suspects, but their talk had revealed more of Kristin’s personality. She was not affectionate or warm, and under any other circumstances, she would rank high on Lucy’s lists of suspects.
But she hadn’t been in town when Archie was murdered.
The boardwalk stores were a colorful blur as Lucy’s mind raced along with her feet as she picked up her pace.
“Lucy!”
She turned to see Madame Vega standing at the entrance of her psychic parlor. “Oh, hello!” Lucy called out, then she jogged over. “I’ve been meaning to stop by for another reading.”
“Come in. I haven’t been busy.” The medium adjusted her turban.
Madame Vega’s comment was another reminder of how business in town was slow, especially on the boardwalk.
“I can’t right now. I have to shower and be at work,” Lucy said.
“Another time then.”
“Yes. I promise. I need more advice in the . . . the romance area.” Things with Azad had heated with a date and a kiss, then gone chilly when he’d grown jealous over her friendship with Michael, and now they were back to lukewarm after she’d apologized.
“Ah, I’m not surprised. You are young and single. You will need advice for a long, long time.”
“Not that long, I hope,” Lucy said. Her mother’s nagging wouldn’t cease. Angela wanted grandchildren and fast.
“What else is troubling you?”
Lucy shook her head regretfully. If only Madame Vega had a special deck of tarot cards that showed the faces of the suspects of Archie’s murder and could predict the killer. If only it were that simple. “I’m not sure the answer to that question is in the cards either.”
Madame Vega dipped her head. “Visit soon. One never knows with tarot.”
* * *
Azad was hard at work in the kitchen, stirring a large pot when Lucy showed up in the kitchen before the dinner service. He looked good, dressed in a short-sleeved chef’s shirt and black-and-white checked pants.
“What are the dinner specials?” Lucy asked. She’d showered and changed and showed up early.
“Taste this,” he said as he poured a ladle full of soup in a bowl and handed it to her with a soup spoon.”
“What is it?”
“It’s Swiss chard lentil soup, a traditional Lebanese dish.” A dark curl rested on his forehead and her fingers itched to reach up and push it back.
“It smells delicious.” She slurped a spoonful. The hearty soup was a wonderful blend of lentils and greens. “Yum. It’s sooo good.”
“I also prepared beet salad with goat cheese, baked chicken in tomato sauce, and shrimp kebabs for the seafood option.”
“I love beet salad. What’s the dressing?”
“Wine vinegar, extra virgin olive oil, and my secret—a dash of sugar.”
Lucy’s stomach rumbled. “When can I taste everything?”
“As soon as it’s ready, I’ll prepare you a plate.” He smiled, and the sexy dimple in his cheek drew her eye.
It was hard for her to tear her gaze away. This wouldn’t do at all. As casually as she could manage, she smiled back. “I better make sure the dining room is ready.”
“Lucy, wait,” he said, reaching out to touch her sleeve. “That cover band, the Beach Bums, is playing at Mac’s Pub tomorrow night. It’s much more casual than Le Gabriel, but the band is fun. Are you free?”
Her heart skipped a beat at his light touch on her arm. All wasn’t lost between them, was it? He was asking her on a second date. “I’d like that a lot.”
“Great. We can head there right after work. I’ll drive.”
Perhaps she didn’t need to visit Madame Vega for romantic advice after all.
CHAPTER 23
That night, Lucy locked up the restaurant and headed out the back door. Gadoo appeared right on time as Lucy filled his food dish. “Sorry, Gadoo. I’m out of treats. I have to make a run to Holloway’s.”
Gadoo twitched his tail and glared at her.
“I promise to go straight there tomorrow morning.”
He meowed loudly, expressing his dissatisfaction.
“Spoiled rotten kitty.”
A loud rumble sounded and, seconds later, a motorcycle pulled up in the restaurant’s parking lot. Gadoo took off like a shot across the asphalt and then down the street.
Lucy had a different reaction as she approached the leather-clad motorcycle rider. Michael parked his bike, lowered the kickstand, and removed his helmet.
“You’re not headed home already, are you? It’s the perfect night for a ride,” he said.
“Depends if you’ll let me drive.” She was teasing, of course. She hadn’t had proper lessons. Though she promised herself that one day she would learn how to safely drive a motorcycle.
Michael rubbed his chin with a thumb and forefinger as if seriously considering her request. “Not yet, but I have a gut feeling that you’ll learn soon.”
She laughed. Michael was attractive enough to draw any woman’s eye, but Lucy felt a strong kinship with him. She supposed she was a one-man gal, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have friends. Even sexy, Italian ones who radiated a bad-boy persona with his motorcycle.
She also enjoyed riding with him on his Harley-Davidson. For someone who’d always been afraid of the roller coaster on the boardwalk pier, that turned out to be a surprise.
“I’m game to ride to
night. Where do you plan on heading?” she asked.
“I never have a destination in mind. I just ride.”
It sounded good to her. She’d been too tense lately. Archie’s murder was never far from her thoughts. Then there was an uncertainty about her relationship with Azad. They may have veered off course, but Azad had asked her to Mac’s Pub and, once again, their relationship seemed to have gained traction.
Still, she was always happy to see Michael. “I’m glad you stopped by,” she said.
“Ready?” he asked.
She noticed he had a spare helmet attached to the saddlebag on the side of the bike.
“How did you know I’d say yes to a ride?”
He studied her thoughtfully for a moment. “I didn’t. I was just hopeful.”
She knew all about hope. She hoped Detective Clemmons had removed Katie from his suspect list. She hoped they’d find the murderer soon. And she hoped the beach festival would resume and business would return to normal for everyone in town.
She locked her purse in her car, then climbed on the back of the motorcycle and held on to Michael’s leather-clad sides.
He pushed back the kickstand and the Harley purred beneath her like a contented beast. They headed down Ocean Avenue and out of town.
It really was a perfect night for a motorcycle ride. It was warm, but an ocean breeze cooled her heated cheeks.
“Boardwalk?” Michael asked.
“Yes.”
They’d often stopped at the boardwalk. Tonight they sat on a bench overlooking the ocean. The Atlantic Ocean always looked different to Lucy at night. More foreboding. Ominous. But beautiful in a dark way.
Michael had brought a bag of peanuts and they shelled them and ate while sitting back on the wood bench and resting their feet on the railing. Michael pointed to a spot near the jetty. “There’s going to be a party with a few of my biker friends on the beach tomorrow night. Nothing formal, just a fire pit, music, and some beer. I know you have to work, otherwise, I’d invite you.”
“Too bad. I haven’t been to a beach party in ages.”
“Next time.”
“How’s your father?” she asked.
Michael shrugged. “The same. I haven’t seen him much since we went to dinner together.”
“The evening was well worth the Italian food and the information.” Lucy shelled a peanut and popped it into her mouth. It was perfect—salty and crunchy.
“I never had a chance to talk with you about the information my father provided. Did it help?” he asked.
She didn’t plan on hiding what she’d discovered from Michael. He was her confidant, and she knew he would keep what she said secret.
“It did. Your father was right. Politics is a dirty business. It turns out Ben is in a relationship with an employee at the Pussy Cat.”
Michael arched an eyebrow. “By employee do you mean stripper?”
“Yes. Her name is Vanessa.”
“Okay. Knowing my dad, I assume this has something to do with Ben running for mayor. Probably Archie had dirt on Ben about his relationship with the gal. I’m assuming pictures.”
She looked at him in surprise. “How did you know?”
Michael reached for another peanut. “Like I said, I know my father.”
She felt a stab of sympathy for him. Michael was nothing like his father and they’d often been at odds with each other.
“You’re right. It turns out Archie was blackmailing Ben with naughty pictures.”
Michael held up his hands. “I don’t get it. In today’s day and age, who would care?”
“More than half of the town. It’s a family-friendly tourist location,” she argued.
“I suppose you’re right.” He looked at her with renewed interest. “But how did you know about the pictures, or that they were naughty?” At her silence, his lips thinned. “Oh my God. You broke into Seaside Gifts, didn’t you? Talk about the second break-in has been all over town. Neil fired a gun at you!”
Lucy glanced around. “Shh, I don’t want anyone to hear.”
“I can’t believe it. You’re going to give me a heart attack.”
“You? I was the one who had a bullet whiz by my head.”
He rolled his eyes heavenward. “Good God, Lucy. I feel responsible. If I didn’t arrange for you to have dinner with my father, you would never have known about Ben and wouldn’t have put yourself at risk.”
Clearly, he was getting upset. Some kind of male overprotectiveness. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”
“Are you still investigating the murder?” he asked.
Lucy turned her attention to cracking the peanut shell in her hands. It was sealed tight and stubborn. “I’m not breaking and entering anywhere, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You are, then.”
“I’m just keeping my eyes and ears open,” Lucy said. It was exactly what Bill had asked her to do in the first place.
His blue gaze locked on her. “Be careful. There’s a murderer on the loose. How many lives do you think you have?”
“I haven’t been keeping track.”
“One more question. How are things with that hot-tempered chef?” he asked.
It was unusual for Michael to ask about Azad. It was also an uncomfortable topic of conversation between them. How was she supposed to answer the question? She cleared her throat. “Azad and I have had a few rough patches, but we’re making a go of it.”
“Well, if he keeps screwing up, I’m happy to step in.”
Wow. She wasn’t sure how to answer. They’d flirted in the beginning, but since then, they’d shared a different type of bond. Both of them had strong families with unreasonable expectations. They understood each other, sympathized together, and she valued his friendship.
“Thanks,” she said.
“I mean it.”
“So do I. I won’t forget the offer.”
* * *
Lucy arrived at the restaurant early the following morning to see Jose’s truck parked out front. She’d been expecting him and was pleased to see he was prompt.
She approached him with a smile. “Hi, Jose. Are you ready to do some more work?”
“I am. I hope to install half the ceiling fans today, and the second half in a few days.”
“The fans are in boxes in the storage room.”
She’d asked him to arrive early before the restaurant opened. This way, he could work undisturbed. She held the front door open as he carried in a ladder and then his toolbox. He set up the ladder to reach the electrical box he’d previously installed, then ran back to his truck. Lucy assumed he’d forgotten a tool.
Jose returned with a plastic container. “I almost forgot. Maria made you pollo guisado—braised chicken. She said to thank you for the baklava.”
“Please tell her thanks. She didn’t have to do that.” Lucy peeked inside the container. If the chicken was as good as the flan, then she knew it would be exceptional. Maria Alvarez certainly knew how to cook.
“Maria believes food is the best way to show gratitude,” Jose said.
She sounded just like Lucy’s mother. The two women should get together and swap recipes. “Maybe Maria can give me a cooking lesson.”
“She’d like that.”
“How’s the pregnancy?” From what she’d remembered, Maria was almost eight months pregnant by now.
“Good. Little Enrique is getting big.”
“You know it’s a boy.”
Jose’s face broke into a wide smile. “We weren’t going to, but we asked the ultrasound technician to write the baby’s sex on a piece of paper and seal it in an envelope. We agreed to wait to open it after the baby was born, but aren’t as disciplined as we thought.”
“Emma and Max found out as soon as they could.” They’d known Niari was a girl as soon as the technician squirted the ultrasound gel on Emma’s stomach. Lucy had helped Max paint the room pink and she’d shopped with Emma to pick out pink bedding with ballerinas at Babie
s Galore.
Jose’s cell phone rang and he unclipped it from his belt. The phone’s blue cover was embellished with a gold cross.
He glanced at the screen. “Excuse me. It’s Maria.”
“Of course.”
Lucy carried the container into the kitchen and opened the lid. It was still warm, and she inhaled the delicious aroma of braised chicken. Reaching for a fork, she took a taste. The combination of spices—onions, garlic, celery, peppers, and olives—was divine and the chicken was so tender it melted in her mouth. The chicken rested on a bed of fluffy white rice. She stuffed another forkful in her mouth, then another. Maybe Azad could introduce this into the menu. It may not be Mediterranean cuisine, but he could put a spin on it, couldn’t he?
She was still sampling the chicken when Jose passed through the swinging kitchen doors with his toolbox. “This is delicious!”
“I’ll be sure to tell Maria. Mind showing me where the fans are stored?”
She reluctantly set down her fork and walked him through the kitchen into the storage room where the boxes of fans were stacked in a corner. Jose picked up two. “I should be finished before your first lunch customer arrives.”
A thought crossed Lucy’s mind. She knew he’d worked in Archie’s shop. She’d already questioned him about it, but now that she knew the identity of Neil’s girlfriend she wondered if there was more Jose could recall.
“Jose, remember when you said you’d last worked in Archie’s shop and you overheard Neil arguing with a woman?” Lucy asked.
“Yes.”
“I met her. Her name is Sharon Smithfield. She’s pretty and blonde.”
“I didn’t see her, but I remember her voice. It was irritating.”
“By ‘irritating’ you mean gravelly, right?” Lucy asked.
“Yes.”
“And you said they were arguing over money?”
“He owed her money for a surfboard. She asked when he would pay her back for it. Like I said, I never saw them. I just overheard their conversation while I was working on the electrical box. I wasn’t purposely eavesdropping. They were arguing loudly.”
“Don’t worry. I believe you. Sharon’s father owns Smithfield’s Surf Shop in Bayville.”
