by Tina Kashian
She glanced at his IV. One of the bags of fluid was labeled OXYCONTIN. Not for the first time, she wondered about the extent of his injuries from the accident. “Paul,” she whispered.
Nothing.
“Paul,” she said louder, then gently squeezed his shoulder.
His eyes opened a crack, glassy and unfocused.
“It’s me, Lucy. Wake up. You wanted to see me, remember?”
He blinked twice. “You came.” His voice was weak and gravely.
“Yes, I did. But we don’t have much time. What did you want to say?” A confession? An admission of how he poisoned Heather? An explanation of how he got his hands on the cyanide?
“I didn’t do it.” His voice was strong, then more forceful. “I didn’t kill Heather.”
Lucy shot him a doubtful look. “Heather was cheating on you with Luke Santiago. You found out after you backed her loan to Luke’s boss, Mr. Citteroni.”
“No . . . I loved her.”
“You said you wanted to kill her,” Lucy insisted.
Paul rubbed his temples. “I didn’t mean it. We were working out our problems. I wanted to marry her. You saw the ring!”
She had, and it had caused her second thoughts . . . but she had to remain logical. “Tell the police.”
“I did. They don’t believe me.”
“It didn’t help that you ran,” Lucy pointed out.
“I was scared. I panicked. I know how bad it looks. The huge loan. Heather’s affair. My threat. The police don’t believe me.”
“Then tell your lawyer,” she said.
“It’s not the same. You know this case and everyone involved. You’re investigating it.”
“I was investigating it.” Was he going to accuse Guido or Mac again? Paul was clearly desperate to point to anyone.
“You came. You must know something doesn’t add up,” Paul said.
He had her there. She did have questions. Not about his motives, because there were plenty, but about how he’d done it. Had he stumbled across a black-market supplier of cyanide when he’d researched one of his suspense novels? And how exactly did he administer the poison?
“I came because I felt bad for you.” There was a grain of truth to that.
Paul needed a good criminal defense lawyer. A zealous advocate who would argue on his client’s behalf.
Not Lucy.
A beep sounding from one of the machines made Lucy jump. One of the bags of fluid was almost empty.
“I have to go.” She decided to make a hasty exit before a nurse arrived.
“Wait!” Paul reached out to clasp her wrist, his grip surprisingly firm for a drugged patient. “Promise me you’ll think about what I said. That you’ll consider looking into things a little more.”
Lucy’s lips parted to answer, then froze. Her eyes were glued to where Paul gripped her wrist. A glimmer of light from the parted window blinds reflected off his hospital identification bracelet.
Paul Basher.
Not Paul Evans.
Her mind struggled to comprehend as her eyes flew to his face. A sudden thought struck her and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t considered it earlier. Paul must write under the pseudonym Paul Evans, but his legal name was Paul Basher.
“Hello.”
A nurse in scrubs stood in the doorway with an IV bag of fluid in her hands. “Time to swap out your meds.” She stopped short as she noticed Lucy. “Oh, I didn’t realize he was allowed visitors.”
Lucy forced herself to smile. “I’m his attorney, but I was on my way out.” She hurried from the room.
Officer Stevens shot her a glare as he stood guard outside. She didn’t wave on her way to the elevator.
CHAPTER 23
By the time Lucy made her way back to Kebab Kitchen, her mind was in overdrive.
Paul Basher.
The day she’d met Paul, he’d said he was originally from Ocean Crest and had recently returned. The surname Basher was vaguely familiar, but in her agitated state she couldn’t quite place it. She rubbed her temples. The stress was getting to her.
Think, Lucy! After years of owning the restaurant, her mother knew everyone in town. Perhaps she’d heard of his family.
Lucy pulled into the restaurant’s back parking lot. Her mother’s car was gone. Azad’s blue pickup truck was missing, as well. Both must have left for a break before the dinner hour.
She’d call her mom. Using her key to open the back door, Lucy made her way through the storage room and into the kitchen. She pulled up a stool to the prep table where she’d prepared baklava at the break of dawn, and took her cell phone out of her purse.
A delivery box on the table caught her eye. A slip of paper sat next to it. Big Al must have made a delivery and left his invoice as usual. She reached for the invoice and froze as she read the printed red letters at the top of the paper—ALI BASHER, SPECIALTY MEDITERRANEAN FOODS.
Of course! She’d forgotten Big Al’s name was Ali Basher. For as long as she could remember, everyone called him Big Al.
Was it a coincidence? Or were Ali Basher and Paul Basher related? Father and son?
If it were true, how on earth could she not have known that Big Al had a son who happened to be a famous best-selling author? She’d never heard of him having a family. And if he did have a son who was a bestselling novelist, wouldn’t he have proudly mentioned it to her parents?
Plus they looked nothing alike. Big Al was short, fat, bald, and waddled when he walked. Paul was average height, thin, and had a full head of brown hair.
She reached for her cell and called her parents’ home. They didn’t answer. She tried her mom’s cell. Still no answer. She called Katie who thankfully picked up on the first ring.
“Did you talk to Paul?” Katie asked.
“I did. Paul’s real name is Paul Basher, not Evans,” Lucy said.
“What?”
“When we first met Paul at Mac’s Irish Pub, he told us he was born in Ocean Crest, moved away with his mother when he was young, then recently came back,” Lucy said.
“So?”
“Well, I just remembered that our food supplier’s last name is Basher. Big Al is Ali Basher.”
“Do you think they’re related?” Katie asked.
“I need to ask my mom.”
“What else did Paul say?” Katie asked.
“He insists he didn’t kill Heather, and I still have doubts myself.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m by myself at the restaurant.”
“Is it safe?”
Lucy blinked. “I locked the door behind me. Why?”
“Stay where you are,” Katie ordered. “I’m calling Bill.”
As Lucy hung up the phone, she heard the sound of a key in the back door. Relief coursed through her. Her mother must be back. Maybe she’d get answers now. The storage room door slammed closed.
“Hello!” Lucy called out.
“It’s Big Al. I forgot a second box for you, Mrs. Berberian.” He entered the kitchen, carrying a medium-sized box, his feet shuffling across the tiled floor. He halted when he spotted her. “Well, hello there Lucy.”
Lucy pushed back her stool and stood. “The door was locked. How did you get inside?”
He placed the box on the prep table. “It’s not a problem. Your parents gave me a key years ago so that I could make my deliveries.” His large smile melted in his buttery face.
If Paul was his son, she felt horrible for Ali Basher. His son had been arrested for murder and was lingering in a hospital room, handcuffed to the bedrail, with a policeman standing guard outside. Al must be devastated.
“Isn’t it late for a delivery? I’m sure your family is waiting for you.” She was fishing, but she wanted answers.
Big Al shook his head. “Sadly, no. My wife died many years ago.”
So, he had married. “I’m sorry. What about your children?” she prodded.
Something flickered far back in his eyes. “A son. He’s grown.
I didn’t know about him until recently.”
“What do you mean?”
He shifted his feet, and his brow furrowed. “I never married his mother. We were very young, just shy of eighteen, and she didn’t tell me about him. I only learned of his existence when he came searching for me months ago.”
Lucy took a step forward and lowered her voice. “Is his name Paul?”
Big Al blinked once, then his brown eyes sharpened.
Lucy’s heart gave a jolt and the truth struck her like a blow to the gut. “It was you, wasn’t it? You poisoned Heather Banks. Why?”
He swallowed. “Heather Banks was a bad person. I had finally connected with my son, my only child. He’d been raised to believe I was dead. He’d only learned the truth when his stepfather became ill and told Paul everything in confidence. Even though I’m proud of Paul for what he has accomplished with his books, I agreed to keep our relationship private at his request because his mother is still alive.”
“I don’t understand. What does that have to do with Heather?”
Perspiration beaded on his brow, and he wiped his broad forehead with a meaty palm. “Paul met Heather soon after returning to Ocean Crest. At first, I thought she was good for him, then one day as I was making a delivery, I saw her in a car, kissing another man. She cheated on Paul and caused him nothing but pain. I had just discovered I had a son. I couldn’t let her ruin his career or his future.”
“Did you tell Paul? Explain how you felt?”
“I tried,” he said his expression pained. “He refused to listen. I thought with her dead, my son would be free of her, but instead he was arrested for her murder.”
“You didn’t have to kill her.” Lucy couldn’t fathom murdering someone just because they’d cheated.
Al’s eyes flashed and he looked fiercely protective. “I didn’t have a choice. When I confronted Paul and pleaded for him to stop seeing her, he told me he had a ring for her. A ring! He planned to ask her to marry him. I had to do something.”
“It was the apricots, wasn’t it?” Lucy held her breath.
“I’ve sold them for years. I know the crushed kernels are poison.”
The blood pounded in Lucy’s ears. “You were here that day. You made a delivery and were talking in the kitchen with Azad when Heather came to eat.”
“I followed her for a week. I saw my son visit her during one of her inspections that day. Then I followed her here and knew what I had to do.”
“You used a delivery as an excuse to show up at the restaurant while Heather was here.”
He nodded once. “I sprinkled crushed apricot kernels on the hummus bar.”
“You could have poisoned someone else!” Lucy said.
“No,” he said in a dull and troubled voice. “She was the only customer in the place.”
Another thought came to Lucy. “What about the day Azad and I were locked in the walk-in refrigerator? Was that you?”
“You were in the kitchen with Azad. Your mother was in the office. All I wanted was to return unnoticed and get my apricots. But then you and Azad came into the back of the kitchen and I would have been seen, so I jammed the broom against the door and locked both of you inside the refrigerator.”
“We could have been in there for hours.”
Big Al shook his head. “No. I knew your mother would discover you before then. I just wanted my apricots.”
“What now?” Lucy asked.
He licked his lips and swallowed. “You don’t have to tell the police.”
“You killed Heather!”
He flinched. “You’re right. My son must not go to jail for something he didn’t do.”
Lucy was relieved. He was going to do the right thing and turn himself in to the police with a full confession.
“My son is in the hospital. If another murder occurs, they will know they have the wrong man.”
Another murder? He couldn’t mean—
He did.
Lucy stared in disbelief as Big Al snatched the knife Azad had used earlier to slice tomatoes.
He wielded it at her. “I’m sorry, Lucy. I never meant for you to get involved. You just kept asking questions. You wouldn’t give up.”
Panic and anger simmered inside her. “Put that down. Killing me makes no sense.”
“It will if I put the cyanide powder on you. They will think you poisoned Heather.”
“You’re not a killer.” Stupid, Lucy! He already was.
“I have to fix this.”
“By killing again!?”
His face crumpled, but his hold on the knife remained firm. “You know too much.”
Lucy’s eyes darted to the prep table for a weapon, but the surface was clear of other knives or utensils. The delivery box was between them. She inched toward it, holding up her hands as if surrendering. She needed to buy time, appeal to him emotionally. “Think of my parents. They’re your friends. How do you think they’d feel if you stabbed me?”
The knife wavered. “I have no choice. You know the truth.”
“I’ve changed my mind. I promise not to tell anyone. Just put the knife down,” she pleaded.
He shook his head. “It’s too late.”
She lunged for the box and pushed it with all her might at him. It slid across the table and hit him in the stomach. He cried out as Lucy sprinted from the kitchen into the storage room. Big Al bellowed and she heard the shuffle of his footsteps as he charged after her.
She was faster and more agile. All she had to do was run out the back door and sprint to the neighboring bike shop and scream for help. Michael or his father might even be there. She pushed a rolling cart into Big Al’s path as she ran through the kitchen and into the storage room. She reached the back door and turned the handle.
Locked.
She struggled with the deadbolt. In her panic, her fingers fumbled and she tore a nail. Just as she managed to unlock the dead bolt and throw open the door, she ran straight into Azad. “Look out!” she cried.
Big Al charged into the storage room with the knife in hand. Azad reacted automatically, picking up a glass jar of tahini from a nearby shelf and throwing it at the supplier. It struck him between his eyes, then shattered on the ceramic tile. Big Al stumbled back, clutched his head, then dropped to the ground like a felled tree as the knife clattered to the floor.
“My God. Are you all right?” Azad asked her, concern etched between his brows.
Lucy’s heart was racing. “It was him all along. Big Al poisoned the hummus bar with cyanide and killed Heather. He’s Paul’s father. He thought he was protecting his son.”
Azad reached for his cell phone in his pocket. “I’ll call the police.”
Just then sirens sounded outside. Lucy placed a hand on Azad’s sleeve. “Katie already called Bill.”
They glanced at Big Al lying unconscious on the storage room floor. He’d been stopped by ajar of tahini that would have been used to make hummus.
Despite her racing adrenaline, Lucy couldn’t help but think how fitting it was. She took deep breaths. “Big Al will get his wish. Paul will be exonerated, but I doubt his son will forgive him. Despite everything, I think Paul truly loved Heather.”
“Love is blind.”
Her gaze snapped to his face. “Why did you come back?”
“I thought about what you said about wanting to take over the restaurant. You have just as much right to want this place as any prospective buyer. Even more. The place belongs to your family.”
“Oh, I . . . well . . . thanks.”
His gaze traveled over her face and searched her eyes. “I also came to ask if you’d like to go for a second cup of coffee.”
Lucy’s pulse leapt, and she felt a ripple of excitement. She smiled and looked up at him. “Coffee sounds great. By the way, how did you plan to get inside? The back door was locked.”
He held up his keychain. “I’ve had a key ever since I’ve worked here.”
Her parents were too trusting in handi
ng out keys . . . but, this time, she was grateful they had.
CHAPTER 24
“To family and friends!” Raffi Berberian cheered as he opened a bottle of expensive cognac from his own private stash. It was the following day, and they were seated around a large table in Kebab Kitchen’s dining room. Lucy’s entire family, along with Katie and Bill, Sally, Butch, and Azad were all present. Even Gadoo lounged on the window sill, his jewel green eyes watching them curiously.
“To Lucy for solving the case,” Emma said.
“To Lucy for deciding to stay,” Mom said.
“To Lucy for taking over the business,” Azad said.
Lucy had been shocked and pleasantly surprised that Azad was okay with her decision. “There’s a job opening for head chef,” she said.
“I’m thinking about it,” he drawled.
If that was the best he could offer, she’d have to be patient.
Her parents had been thrilled with her decision. They’d also been relieved. Kebab Kitchen would stay in the family. Of course, her mother had taken the opportunity to remind Lucy if she ended up with Azad it was just as she’d wanted all those years ago. Somehow her mother’s meddling was more humorous than annoying, and Lucy had simply rolled her eyes.
Meanwhile, she had other things to think about. She’d need to find her own place for starters. Katie and Bill had graciously told her she could stay in their guest room as long as she wished. Her parents had asked her to live with them—but that was not something she was considering. Even Emma and Max had offered her their basement. Lucy had options, but she knew that she eventually wanted her own place.
She scanned the dining room, its tables with pristine tablecloths and the maple booths. She’d never envisioned staying when she’d arrived. But somewhere in the back of her mind, she’d known she wasn’t happy with her legal career. She hadn’t given a single thought to updating her résumé the entire time she’d been home.
A glass of cognac was handed to her. She tossed it down and coughed as the strong alcohol burned her throat and every inch of her esophagus all the way down to her stomach.
“It’s smooth as silk,” her dad protested.
“You can try my sparkling apple juice, Mokour Lucy,” Niari said as she giggled and held up her own glass.
