Hummus and Homicide

by Tina Kashian

  “You should have called us last night,” Max said. “We could have been here in five minutes flat.”

  Lucy shook her head. “There was no need. The police had to secure the scene and do their jobs. No one was allowed in or out.”

  Angela flipped through a stack of menus, righting each one to face the same direction, then banged the stack hard on a table. Her cheeks were flushed with anger, and a loose pin flew from her beehive to the floor. “I still can’t believe it. The woman complained about our hummus bar and then came back to eat. How dare she touch my hummus!”

  Lucy was relieved her mother’s tears were gone. She didn’t blame her for her show of temper. Lucy had displayed more of it in the past two days she’d been home than in the past six months.

  “What does Bill say?” Emma said.

  A tight knot formed inside Lucy as she recalled what Bill had told her. Did she want to tell them or wait until more information was available, at least until the autopsy was completed? “Bill isn’t at liberty to tell me all the details.”

  “It was a heart attack, wasn’t it?” Emma pressed.

  Lucy decided being truthful was best. They needed to know . . . to prepare themselves. “That was their first thought.”

  “What do you mean their first thought?” Emma said.

  Lucy took a deep breath before answering. “After an initial examination of the body, it appears that Heather died from something she ate.”

  “You mean food poisoning?” Emma said.

  A collective gasp followed from her parents.

  Emma whirled to face their mother. “How fresh was your hummus, Mom?”

  “Nonsense,” Angela snapped. “I make my hummus every morning and place it immediately in the refrigerator until it’s ready to be served. We bring it out in small batches and replenish it as needed. My hummus did not kill that woman.”

  “We’ve never been accused of such a foul offense,” Raffi grumbled.

  Max spoke up. “It doesn’t make sense. A person doesn’t eat and then croak of food poisoning as they’re walking out.”

  “Maybe she was unhealthy and took a wrong dose of medication by accident,” Emma suggested.

  Lucy swallowed and shook her head. “Not according to the initial examination by the medical examiner.”

  Emma’s eyes widened. “Then if Heather died of something she ate and she wasn’t unhealthy and didn’t accidently mix up her medication, they must think she was murdered.”

  Angela dropped the stack of menus with a thud. Everyone turned to look at Lucy in astonishment.

  Lucy ran a hand through her hair in exasperation. “They won’t know for sure until the toxicology results are final. It could take weeks.”

  “Weeks?” Angela asked incredulously. “This is a small town. News travels fast. Tourist season will begin in less than a month. What will happen to us? To the restaurant?”

  “They wouldn’t even have to shut us down. Who would come eat at Kebab Kitchen?” Raffi asked.

  “What about Ocean Crest? Who will want to spend their vacation in our small town if they believe a murderer lives here?” Emma said.

  “It will affect the sale of the restaurant for certain,” Max said. “How do you expect me to sell the place if the authorities suspect that the health inspector was poisoned after eating here? Even I can’t fix that.”

  Lucy’s breath solidified in her throat. They were all looking to her for answers. “I don’t know.”

  Her father pointed a finger at her chest. “You have to find out who did this, Lucy. You need to learn what happened to that woman.”

  “Me?”

  His eyes held a sheen of purpose. “Yes. You’re the attorney in the family.”

  Even though she’d considered doing a bit of snooping on her own, the family pressure was entirely different. It was much, much worse. “I’m a patent attorney, Dad.” Her voice was shakier than she would have liked. “I have no law enforcement experience, and I’m not an investigator.”

  “So? Family helps family. Find out who did this.”

  * * *

  Lucy sat on the sofa in Katie’s family room and rested her head in her hands. Thank goodness her friend was home on her lunch break. “My dad expects me to turn into Sherlock Holmes.”

  Katie made a sound that was part snort, part chuckle. “He wants you to find Heather’s killer?”

  Lucy felt a headache beginning and rubbed her temples. “If the autopsy confirms the medical examiner’s initial guess of murder by poison, then yes.”

  Katie handed her a mug of coffee and sat in an armchair cradling her own cup. “It’s not a bad idea for us, Lucy.”

  Lucy took a sip of her coffee and nearly burned her tongue. “What do you mean by us?”

  “Don’t get your panties in a twist. Of course, I want to help. I’ll do as much as I can during lunch breaks and after work hours. You’ll be Sherlock and I’ll be your Watson. It will be just like old times. We were inseparable, remember?”

  Lucy set the mug down on the end table. “In high school gym class. We were good badminton partners and one of us could hold the bottom of a rope while the other climbed up. This is entirely different.”

  Katie leaned forward and met Lucy’s gaze. “Tell me you haven’t thought about the possibility already?”

  Lucy swallowed. “I won’t lie. I was planning to ask around to see who else disliked Heather.”

  Katie tapped her chin with a forefinger. “It’s a good start, and I have ideas too. After all, I’ve been married to a cop for fourteen years.”

  “Bill would be furious if he found out we were poking around. He already warned us to stay out of it, remember?” Lucy pointed out.

  Katie waved a hand. “I’m not worried. We’ll be careful, and Bill will never find out. Besides he has to stay out of the investigation to avoid a conflict of interest. It’s Calvin Clemmons who concerns me. He’s a small-minded detective in a small town. He’s under pressure to close the case before tourist season starts. He won’t dig deep. He’ll look for the easiest way to solve the crime, even if it’s not the right one.”

  Lucy’s brow crimped. “You think so? I’m worried he still holds a grudge against Emma and possibly our family for their high school breakup. My parents never liked him and he knew it.”

  “Like I said, he’s small-minded.”

  “Maybe he’s not the one in charge.”

  Katie’s eyebrow shot up. “This is Ocean Crest. He’s the town’s sole detective and is in charge of investigating all crime, not that we’ve had any. If Calvin suspects foul play, he’ll report it to the county prosecutor so fast our heads will spin.”

  A wave of apprehension swept through Lucy. “You think so?”

  “I do.” Katie opened a slim drawer of an end table and withdrew a pad and pencil. “Think back. Who else was in the restaurant when Heather was there?”

  “Butch was in the kitchen and I was in the dining room. My parents were in their office working on payroll.”

  Katie scribbled on the pad. “That’s it?”

  “That’s who was working.” Lucy’s mind went back to that afternoon. “Azad stopped by.”

  Katie looked up, an eager expression on her face. “He did? What happened?”

  Her coffee hadn’t quite kicked in yet, but Lucy knew to be cautious. “Nothing. I thought he was there to see my dad, but he’d heard I was home and wanted to see me.”

  A mischievous gleam lit Katie’s eyes. “Interesting. He’s looking good, isn’t he? I always thought Azad was cute, but now he’s handsome with those dark eyes, broad shoulders, and—”

  “It’s not like that,” Lucy snapped. “I’m over him.”

  “I believe you, but we still need to add him to the list of people present that afternoon.” Katie wrote Azad’s name on the pad.

  Katie was right. Maybe Azad saw something. Or maybe he knew Heather. But that meant Lucy would have to speak with him to find out. Her fingers tensed in her lap.

&nb
sp; “Anyone else?” Katie asked.

  Lucy recalled the crash in the kitchen and the appearance of Big Al. “One of my father’s food suppliers made a delivery. Big Al is friendly with Azad.” She remembered how that had irked her. Everyone in the town seemed to know everyone else’s business.

  “Did either of them have a reason to want Heather dead?” Katie asked.

  “If they did, I can’t think of one.”

  “Clemmons already questioned Butch and your parents. He will question Big Al, too.” Katie rubbed her chin. “From what you told me last night, Heather drank unsweetened ice tea, ordered pita bread, and ate from the hummus bar.”

  Lucy reached for her coffee again. This time it wasn’t as hot. “That’s right. The police took Heather’s leftovers and the trash, even the garbage from the Dumpster.”

  “If something in the hummus killed Heather, they’ll know when the state lab results come back,” Katie said.

  “What could possibly be deadly in the hummus? An overdose of garlic?” Lucy said sarcastically.

  “You’re right. Bad breath never killed anyone,” Katie said.

  “My mom swears her hummus is made fresh each morning and promptly refrigerated. I believe her. Plus, I helped her make a fresh batch the other day. There’s no meat or dairy that could spoil quickly in the hummus. It’s a mystery to me.”

  Katie tucked the pencil behind her ear. “Maybe Heather had a food allergy.”

  Lucy shook her head. “I don’t think so. She was very particular about what she ordered and drank. She wouldn’t have eaten anything that would make her sick.”

  Katie shimmied forward on the couch and looked Lucy in the eye. “What else can you remember?”

  Lucy rubbed her forehead. “Heather was sweating. I thought it was odd since the restaurant’s air conditioning system works well.”

  “Maybe she was physically reacting to the garlic in the hummus or, heaven forbid, poison. Anything else?”

  Lucy let out a long exhale. “I overheard Heather arguing with someone on her cell phone. She told the person never to call her on that line. I told all of this to the police. But I’ve been thinking about it since. What if she was arguing with her boyfriend, Paul Evans?”

  “I think we should talk to him,” Katie said. “Bill always says victims are often murdered by someone close to them. Husbands and boyfriends are usually prime suspects.”

  A flash of blue outside the living room window caught Lucy’s eye. Katie saw it too. They stood and parted the curtains to see a blue Ford F150 truck park in Katie’s driveway.

  “Who’s that?” Lucy asked.

  The door of the truck opened, and Azad climbed out. He wore a T-shirt and jeans that clung to his long legs and made him look lean and sinewy. His features were chiseled and a lock of dark hair brushed his forehead.

  Watch it, Lucy!

  “Well, well,” Katie drawled, a note of appreciation in her voice. “Look who’s decided to pay a visit.” She grinned and shot Lucy a sidelong glance. “And you said nothing happened between you two yesterday.”

  Lucy’s heart skipped a beat as Azad walked up the driveway. She trailed behind Katie and paused for a quick glimpse in the hallway mirror before they reached the front door. In her haste this morning, she hadn’t used her trusty spray gel and her long dark curls were already a halo of frizz from the ever present Jersey shore humidity. She attempted to smooth the wayward strands just as Katie yanked open the front door.

  “Hello Katie,” Azad said.

  “Good to see you, Azad. You’re here to speak with Lucy, right?”

  “If you don’t mind.” He grinned, a charming smile that said he knew the effect he had on women and he was taking full advantage.

  Lucy stepped onto the porch. She decided it was best if she talked to him outside. That way, she could make a fast escape back inside if necessary.

  “I’ll be in the house if you need me,” Katie said, then left the two of them alone.

  Lucy faked an ease she didn’t feel. She awkwardly cleared her throat and attempted to look anywhere but in Azad’s dark eyes. Katie’s stone driveway was lined with pinkish and pearly shells that shimmered in the sunlight. Spring blooms of crocus, hyacinth, and tulips added splashes of color to her porch.

  It was some consolation that Azad didn’t look all that comfortable either. He stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets and shifted his feet. “I heard what happened at the restaurant last night.”

  Lucy didn’t bother to ask how he had heard. News traveled as fast as electricity in the town.

  “It makes for an interesting first week back home.”

  “Do the police have any information?” Azad asked.

  “You mean about what could have caused a customer to die out back?” she asked.

  “Heather looked fine when I saw her in the restaurant that day.”

  Lucy looked at him in surprise. She wondered what else he’d noticed. Had he spoken to Heather? Did he know her well? If so, when and where did the two meet? Here was her chance to investigate and start asking questions. “Did you know Heather Banks?”

  He stopped short and shot her a strange look. “Not personally, but I’d met her before. I was working at Kebab Kitchen when her old man came in to inspect the place years ago. She sometimes tagged along.”

  It made sense that Azad would have seen the health inspector and his daughter after working in the business for years. “Did you talk to her the other day?”

  “No. I went into the kitchen and chatted with Big Al. You saw us.”

  Lucy’s tension eased a bit. She had seen the two men talking when she went to fetch Heather’s iced tea. “Well, I feel horrible about what happened. I just wish she hadn’t died after eating at Kebab Kitchen. We won’t know anything until the autopsy and toxicology results are complete. It could take weeks.” Lucy withheld the most damaging news—that the police thought Heather was poisoned.

  “That long?”

  Another thought crossed her mind. “I know you want to buy the restaurant, but have you ever helped my parents in the kitchen since you graduated from culinary school?”

  “Sure. I go back sometimes. Your dad gave me my first job, remember? I even helped your mom plan the menu for the hummus bar. We came up with a few of the new varieties.”

  Truly? Did he know Heather had ordered from the hummus bar that day? Funny how her mother had never mentioned Azad’s help when she’d raved about her hummus.

  “What varieties did you help my mom come up with?”

  “The bruschetta, black bean, roasted pepper, and sweet apricot. Why?” he asked.

  “No reason,” she said offhandedly

  He watched her intently. “I’d still like to have that talk, Lucy. You know . . . about us?”

  She cocked her head to the side and studied him. He’d been a large part of her college years and she used to know him as well as any family member. His mannerisms and quirks had been as familiar as her own.

  “I should go. Katie’s waiting,” she said.

  “Not yet.” He reached out to grasp her hand.

  Her skin prickled with awareness, and her heart fluttered in her chest. He stood close enough for her to feel the heat from his body. The simple touch relit some tangible bond between them, and she found herself strangely flattered by his interest. For a brief moment, she felt like a breathless girl of eighteen again.

  “Don’t run away. Lola’s Coffee Shop still has the best coffee at the Jersey shore. How about I buy you a cup? We can just talk business if you want. You can grill me about why I want to buy your parents’ place.”

  Her parents would be relieved he was still interested. She wouldn’t want to jeopardize that, would she? “Business? That’s it?”

  He gave her a smile that sent her pulses racing. “Great. How about Saturday morning at ten? I’ll pick you up here.”

  Despite her sworn vow not to get involved with him, she found herself nodding her head. “All right. Saturday at ten.” He
squeezed her hand, just enough pressure to send a small tingle down her spine.

  Business. It’s fine if you keep it to business, her inner voice warned.

  The front door opened, and Katie stepped onto the porch.

  Lucy pulled her hand out of his grasp. Thank goodness for the interruption. Azad looked good. Too good. After he touched her, she realized she may not be as strong as she’d thought.

  Lucy looked at Katie’s face and froze. Her complexion was ghostly pale as she held a phone to her ear. Her left hand covered the receiver.

  “What is it?” Lucy asked.

  Katie stepped down from the porch. “It’s Detective Clemmons. The autopsy was completed, and he wants you at the station for questioning.”

  CHAPTER 6

  “Thank you for coming, Lucy.” Detective Calvin Clemmons smiled from behind the desk in his office and extended his hand, which she briefly shook.

  He motioned to the chair in front of his desk. He was dressed as he had been last night—navy suit, white shirt, and striped tie. His manner was slightly more polite today, but his arrogant sallow features and cold brown eyes were still unfriendly. He removed his reading glasses, leaving a ridge at the bridge of his nose where his glasses had trenched, and Lucy couldn’t help but think he looked like a constipated accountant during tax season. Katie’s warning that he was under pressure to solve the crime before Memorial Day heightened her uneasiness.

  Lucy sat down in a faux leather chair. His office was spacious—twice as big as her parents’ cramped space in the corner of the restaurant storeroom. One end of the detective’s desk held a pile of papers beneath a polished stone paperweight. A computer sat in the center, and a battered metal filing cabinet stood close by. A picture of Clemmons on a boat holding a large tuna hung behind him on the wall. Various stuffed fish were mounted around the room. A bluefish. A salmon. An openmouthed trout. She wondered which he spent more money on—fishing or taxidermy?

  Clemmons opened a drawer, pulled out a manila file folder, and placed it on the desk. The tab read HEATHER BANKS typed in bold font. “I want to ask you a few more questions about last night.”