by Tina Kashian
Angela removed her reading glasses and they dangled from a chain around her neck. “What’s wrong?”
“Heather Banks is dead in the back parking lot,” Lucy blurted out. “The police are on their way.”
Raffi pushed back his chair and stood. “Asvadzt! My God! What has that crazy lady gotten herself into?”
* * *
In all the crime fighting TV shows Lucy had watched, the police arrive in minutes. It took the Ocean Crest police close to seventeen minutes to show up. Officer Bill Watson was the first to come inside. Tall and fit with blue eyes and close-cropped light brown hair, he had the look of a seasoned officer. In contrast, he was followed by a younger officer with a freckled face and a crew cut who looked fresh out of the police academy.
A look of concern crossed Bill’s face as soon as he spotted her. “Are you all right, Lucy?”
Lucy worried her bottom lip. “I’ve been better.”
“Your call said there was a body,” the young officer said. “Where is it?”
“Out back.”
The officers followed Lucy into the kitchen, through the storage room, and out the back door. Her stomach turned at the sight of Heather splayed out, eyes unseeing. The faint stench of vomit permeated the air.
Bill squatted down to press two fingers against Heather’s carotid artery. Lucy could have told him not to bother. He muttered a curse under his breath, reached for his walkie-talkie, and called for backup.
She wondered why they didn’t show up with the entire police force in the first place. How common were dead bodies in the small shore town anyway?
Bill stepped away from the body and approached her. “We needed to be sure,” he said as if reading her mind. “It’s not very often someone dies of unknown causes here.” Taking her arm, he led her back into the dining room.
Her knees were wobbling, and she feared she would trip.
The front door burst open and Katie flew inside. Still wearing her workout gear, her blond hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and her face was flushed. “Lucy!” Katie ran over and hugged her.
Bill turned to his wife in astonishment. “What are you doing here?”
Katie’s lips parted. “Lucy called me.”
He stared at his wife. “You shouldn’t be here. There’s a body out back. We need to secure the scene.”
“I’m not leaving her.” Katie put her hands on her hips and faced her husband.
Bill took one look at his wife’s determined expression, sighed, and shook his head. “Fine. Then sit.” He pointed to the closest table. “And please don’t interfere.”
The door burst open again and two more officers in uniform and the paramedics arrived. The group charged through the dining room and out the back. Lucy trailed behind and peeked out the door. The paramedics were quick to confirm that Heather was dead, and the officers began taking pictures. She blinked at the blinding flash of numerous cameras.
The restaurant was secured. No one was permitted in or out.
The county medical examiner was called in, and he went right to the body with his own camera. Soon after, another police officer arrived—a tall man in his late-thirties with a full head of straw-colored hair and a bushy mustache, dressed in a gray-checked suit. His sharp nose looked like a wedge of cheese. He seemed familiar, and Lucy struggled to place him. A name kept slipping through her thoughts.
“I’m Detective Clemmons.” His expression was grave as he pulled out a small notebook from his shirt pocket and flipped it open.
Her face burned as she remembered. Calvin Clemmons. Her sister’s former high school boyfriend. Emma had broken up with Clingy Calvin, as she’d called him, to date and eventually marry Max. From what Lucy recalled, it hadn’t ended friendly. Emma hadn’t been known for her faithfulness.
“You found the body, correct?” Detective Clemmons asked
“Yes.”
“Your name?”
“Lucy Berberian.”
He lowered his notebook. “Well, well. If it isn’t Emma’s little sister. Is your sister here?”
“No. Emma left hours ago.” Hopefully Calvin Clemmons wouldn’t hold a grudge against her family because of something that happened years ago in high school. Would he?
He cleared his throat and looked her in the eye. “Okay, Lucy. I need to ask you a few questions about what you know.”
Lucy pointed to the body with a shaky finger. “That is . . . was . . . Heather Banks.”
“When did you first see Ms. Banks today?”
“She came into the restaurant to eat. I waited on her, she paid, then she left. I never saw her again until the end of my shift when I went to take the trash to the Dumpster. That’s when I stumbled over her body.”
“What did she order?”
“Hummus and pita bread.”
His stare drilled into her. “That’s it? Kind of odd, isn’t it?”
Lucy’s fingers tensed at her sides. “I guess that’s all she wanted.” The way he watched her made her anxious.
“Did you know Ms. Banks?”
Her unease increased. Detective Calvin Clemmons was older and had graduated before Lucy and Heather had started high school as freshmen. But Lucy wasn’t fooled. She may not want to delve into her past with Heather, but she knew the detective would quickly learn that she’d known Heather. “We went to high school together.”
The Detective raised an eyebrow and wrote a note in his pad. “Do you know of anyone who had a conflict with Ms. Banks?”
Lucy’s nervousness escalated. “A conflict? Are you saying there was foul play?”
His straight glance seemed to be accusing her. “I’m not saying anything. I’m just asking a question.”
“Didn’t she have a heart attack or something?”
“Answer the question, please.”
Her mind spun as she recalled her argument with Heather at Mac’s Pub. Their raised voices had been overheard by several locals. She knew that it would eventually come out. It was best if she told him before he found out from another source and it looked like she was withholding information.
“Like I said, we went to high school together. We weren’t the best pals. We had a run-in at Mac’s Pub yesterday,” Lucy said.
One brow shot up. “What do you mean by a run-in?”
She shrugged, hoping to make it look like no big deal. “We argued.”
“About what?”
“She thought my parents weren’t citizens, and I corrected her. That’s all. No biggie.”
He glared at her, frowning, then scribbled in his pad. “Anything else I should know?”
Lucy recalled Heather gripping her cell phone, her scowling expression. “I overheard her arguing with someone on her cell phone when I handed her the check. She yelled at someone for calling her.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s all I heard.” Lucy’s nerves were frayed as the medical examiner began covering Heather’s body in a black body bag. The sound of the zipper made her cringe.
“This is your parents’ restaurant, correct?”
“Yes.”
“I understand you’re staying with Officer Bill Watson and his wife,” Detective Clemmons said.
She looked away from Heather’s body back to the Detective. “Yes. Bill’s wife, Katie, and I are longtime friends.”
“All right. If there’s anything else, I’ll be in touch.”
* * *
Butch was interviewed next, then Lucy’s parents. Unlike when he questioned Lucy, Calvin Clemmons was quick with them. The county medical examiner and the other officers continued to process the scene. Everything Heather had touched and had eaten and drunk from, her plate, glass and utensils, the bins in the hummus bar, the pita bread and the iced tea, was collected in evidence bags and taken away. Even the trash in the restaurant was collected, and the Dumpster was emptied for processing. Last to be carried out was Heather’s body.
Sitting in the dining room with her parents, Katie, and Butch, hu
ddled around a table with glasses of ice water, Lucy said, “I can’t believe she’s dead.” Had she died of natural causes or was there foul play?
Heather had been Lucy’s age, thirty-two. Lucy considered herself young, but it wasn’t unheard of for thirty-somethings to have heart attacks and strokes. She hadn’t seen anything to show Heather had been attacked, but Lucy wasn’t a detective. Unlike Katie, she didn’t even like crime shows.
Angela wrung her hands on the table. “Why here? Why couldn’t she have died at any of the other restaurants she cited? It’s a bad omen. Someone put the achk on us.” She crossed herself.
“Nonsense. I don’t believe in the evil eye or bad omens,” Raffi muttered.
“How do you explain it, then?” Angela said.
“She was bad news. She got herself into trouble,” Raffi said.
“Either way. I’m worried about the business. What will people think of not only a customer dying here, but the health inspector. Good God! Could it be any worse?” Her mother sniffled, then began to cry.
Her father’s brows drew downward. He could never stand to see tears, from his wife or either of his daughters. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “No . . . no. All will be well. You’ll see. The business will be fine. People in town know us. They trust us.”
Angela blew her nose and shook her head.
Katie spoke up. “Mr. and Mrs. Berberian, please don’t worry. There must be an explanation. Maybe she had a heart attack or some other medical condition.”
Lucy set her water glass down. “Katie’s right. What else could the police think it could be?”
Silence. All eyes turned to look at her, and she inwardly flinched. She didn’t have to be a mind reader to know what everyone else was thinking.
Lucy sat up straight. “Well, it wasn’t the food. She ordered hummus and pita. That’s all.”
“No one has ever gotten sick from eating here in thirty years. Thirty!” Raffi slammed his fist on the table, causing water to slosh onto the tablecloth.
Butch removed his checkered bandana and rubbed his bald pate. “No one’s saying that, Mr. B.”
“There’s no sense in arguing,” Katie said. “The medical examiner will find out what happened. Then it will be business as usual for all of you.”
Angela rubbed her forehead and sobbed even louder. “Business? How could I forget? It’s almost tourist season. It’s even worse than I thought.”
Lucy bit her lip over her mother’s distress. “They’ll know the truth before then, Mom.” They had to know by then. The consequences of Heather’s demise struck Lucy like a falling brick. She may not have been involved in the day-to-day running of the restaurant for years, but she knew how important the tourist season was to their economic survival.
The kitchen door swung open and Bill stepped into the dining room.
Her parents jumped to their feet. “What’s going on?” they asked in unison.
Bill removed his hat and ran his fingers through his fair hair. Two deep lines of worry appeared between his eyes. He looked wearier than when he’d first arrived after Lucy had called the police. Wearier and older. She didn’t envy him his job.
“The scene is still being processed, Mrs. Berberian. We won’t know anything until the medical examiner has a good look at the body,” Bill said.
Raffi frowned. “That’s it?”
“I’m afraid I’m not able to work the case. There’s a conflict of interest. Lucy’s good friends with my wife and is staying with us. It looks bad for everyone if I’m involved,” Bill said.
Angela’s gaze was clouded with tears as she waved a hand in exasperation. “Of all the places to die, why did that woman have to pick here?”
Lucy was thinking the same thing.
CHAPTER 5
The following morning, Lucy woke to sunshine streaming through the slats of the guest room’s blinds. The window was cracked and a pleasant breeze stirred sheer curtains as the faint scent of ocean wafted into the room. Somewhere in the distance seagulls squawked. Memories of lazy summer mornings lingered around the edges of her half-sleepy, half-awake mind. No city traffic, no obnoxious car honking, and no squealing of trucks’ brakes as they made early morning deliveries to bustling city businesses.
She yawned, rubbed her eyes, then glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Seven o’clock.
She was surprised it was so late. Years of working at the law firm had programmed her to wake up at five. She rarely overslept.
As soon as she sat up, last night’s nightmare came back in a rush. It had taken four hours before the last of the police officers, crime scene technicians, and Detective Clemmons had left the restaurant. Lucy had been exhausted by the time Katie had taken her home.
Katie and Bill lived in a charming, cozy rancher with a white picket fence two blocks from the beach. The guest room was airy with plenty of natural light. Sheer curtains embroidered with starfish and shells matched the daybed’s thick, matching coverlet and throw pillows. Cheerful watercolors, featuring a variety of Jersey beach scenes, added bursts of color to the pale blue walls. The furniture was white, and a wicker chair with a pad covered in a horseshoe crab pattern completed the beach theme.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee made Lucy’s mouth water. She threw on a robe, thrust her feet into slippers, and padded into the kitchen. Katie and Bill were standing at the kitchen island, sipping coffee from steaming mugs and speaking softly. Bill was dressed in his uniform. They froze when they saw her, their mugs poised in midair.
Lucy instantly became alert. “What’s up?”
“We know more about last night,” Katie said.
Bill’s brows drew together. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, remember?”
Katie touched his sleeve. “I understand, but she has a right to know.” She walked to the cupboard for a mug and poured Lucy a cup of coffee.
Bill let out a slow breath and set his mug down on the Formica counter. “The medical examiner hasn’t yet conducted the autopsy, and it will take weeks to get the tox results back, but after his preliminary examination it looks like Heather Banks did not die of a heart attack or a stroke.”
Oh no. This couldn’t be good. Lucy’s mind scrambled for some kind of explanation for why Heather had dropped dead in the restaurant’s parking lot. “What about her health history? There must be some explanation.”
“We looked into her medical history. She recently had a physical and was given a good report.”
“Then what?”
Bill’s shoulders hunched forward, and he hesitated before speaking. “Like I said we won’t know until the toxicology results are final, but the medical examiner thinks she died from something she ingested.”
Food poisoning? Lucy bit her lip until it throbbed like her pulse. “How can he tell so soon?”
“There were signs. After her clothing was removed, her skin was pinker than usual and he detected a distinctive odor. And she’d vomited.”
Lucy sagged against the counter. “The police can’t think that the food Heather ate at Kebab Kitchen killed her, can they? It’s not possible.”
“If it was something she consumed, they have to look into everything.”
“Wait a minute. Doesn’t food poisoning take time? I’ve never heard of a person dropping dead of salmonella or botulism after thirty minutes,” Lucy insisted.
Bill shifted uneasily. “You’re right.”
“The medical examiner would know that. So what else could the police think?” Lucy’s mind spun and a frightening thought struck her like a bolt of lightning. “That Heather was murdered? By poison?”
The slightest flinch of Bill’s features told her more than any words could convey.
Holy crap. It was one thing to accidently die of food poisoning, but another entirely for the police to believe Heather was intentionally poisoned and murdered.
“Don’t panic. Like I said, it’s too soon to tell, and
the autopsy is scheduled for this morning. The ME may find something else.”
The medical examiner had to find something else to explain Heather’s death. Lucy opened her mouth, then shut it. Arguing with Bill wouldn’t help. He was already taking a professional risk by revealing more than he should. “Thank you for sharing this. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
Bill’s gaze traveled from Katie to Lucy, then back to Katie. “Then please stay out of it and let us do our jobs, okay?” He placed his mug in the kitchen sink, grabbed his hat from the counter, and walked to the door. Katie trailed behind to say good-bye before he left for his shift.
Lucy remained in the kitchen as she struggled to make sense of what she’d learned. It was her nature to question things. Who, then, had disliked Heather enough to murder her? Lucy’s thoughts churned. If curiosity killed the cat, what would it do to an out-of-work lawyer sticking her nose where it didn’t belong?
Don’t meddle with police business, Lucy. Still, it couldn’t hurt to ask a few questions, could it?
* * *
Lucy parked her car in front of the restaurant and sat with the engine running. She dreaded walking into the place, but it was because of an entirely different type of family drama. For a heart-stopping moment, she contemplated backing out of her parking spot and speeding all the way back to Philadelphia. She could get another job, start over, and ignore the entire mess.
Then she envisioned her parents’ expressions and she couldn’t do it. She’d fled once before, years ago. But she was a “big girl” now, and she wouldn’t do it again.
Lucy killed the engine and entered the restaurant. Her parents were waiting for her. So were Emma and her husband Max.
Emma rushed to her side. “Lucy! Thank goodness you’re all right. I can’t believe Heather Banks died here.”
Max gave her a hug. “You okay?”
Lucy nodded and kissed her brother-in-law’s cheek. Max was handsome, with blue eyes and sandy hair that brushed his collar and gave him a roguish look. His quick smile and charming personality were assets in his thriving real estate business. He worked long hours, and his schedule was a point of strife between him and Emma. Lucy’s sister had been the first to marry outside of their culture, and the church wedding was as humorous and stress-ridden as the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding.
