by Tina Kashian
“Turn down the heat. You don’t want to overcook the stew,” her mom said.
Lucy set down her knife and lowered the gas flame. Her mother had been giving Lucy cooking lessons and, to everyone’s surprise, mostly Lucy’s, her dishes had come out not just edible, but tasty.
“I heard about what happened on the beach last night,” Angela said as she worked.
Oh, no. Lucy knew how her mother worried about Lucy having put herself in danger in the past. Lucy had planned to tell her about last night, omitting any messy details.
“You read the paper?” Lucy asked. The Ocean Crest Town News, led by reporter Stan Slade, had printed the news this morning. Lucy didn’t see eye to eye with Slade on most issues, but he’d reported the bare facts in the edition. The headline had read:
LOCAL LANDLORD, GILBERT LUBINSKI, FOUND DEAD ON THE BEACH. POLICE INVESTIGATING.
“I haven’t seen the paper. Your father heard it from a customer at Lola’s Coffee Shop this morning. God only knows why he likes to visit the coffee shop when he can make coffee here.”
Lucy cracked a smile. “Maybe he likes the people, Mom. Lola Stewart’s shop is always full of locals, not just tourists.”
Angela snorted. “Maybe.” She pointed a spoon at Lucy. “I’m just glad you, Emma, and Sally are all safe. Katie, too. What does Bill Watson know?”
“I haven’t spoken with him yet, but Katie says he doesn’t know much.” Lucy checked that the stew was simmering, then replaced the lid on the pot. “Hey, Mom, what do you know about Melanie Haven?”
Angela resumed chopping. “The candy shop owner? She took over the boardwalk shop after her parents died. She remodeled the place and it looks nice. Townsfolk like her. Why?”
Lucy hesitated, not sure how much to tell, then decided it would be gossip soon enough. Nothing happened in a small town without word on the grapevine spreading as fast as lightning. “Melanie was with us last night, and I’m worried the police may consider her a suspect in Gilbert’s murder.”
Angela wiped her hands on a white dishcloth and turned to Lucy. “Really?”
“Gilbert Lubinski was her landlord. He wasn’t always fair.”
“Now, that doesn’t surprise me. That man had his fingers in a lot of town rentals. Just ask Max.”
Max? Why didn’t she think of him? If anyone knew anything about shore rentals and housing in Ocean Crest, it would be her brother-in-law.
They worked side by side in silence as Lucy contemplated what her mother had told her. Lucy also had something else on her mind that she needed to discuss. “Easter is only a couple of weeks away, and I’d like to host Easter dinner in my new apartment this year. It will be a housewarming party and Easter celebration at the same time. I plan to invite Sally and Butch, Max, Emma, and Niari, and Katie and Bill. What do you think?”
Her mother stopped working to look at her. Lucy felt as if her breath was cut off, waiting for her response. Easter was the holiest of holidays, and her mother took every holiday dinner seriously. Lucy knew her mother was still put out by her moving into Katie’s home a while ago, and now her own apartment. Angela and Raffi had made it clear that they’d wanted their daughter to move back home when she’d returned to Ocean Crest.
No way.
Lucy loved her parents, but she also knew they could be more than a tad overbearing. They’d probably wait up for her on Saturday nights.
“You want to host Easter? At that lady’s second-floor home?” Angela asked.
“No, at my apartment, Mom.”
Her mother drew her lips in thoughtfully. “Hmm. Will you serve lamb?”
“Of course.” It wouldn’t be a Mediterranean Easter without lamb. Her Armenian father would revolt if there wasn’t lamb. Her mother was a mix of Armenian, Lebanese, and Greek, and she was just as discerning.
“Is Azad coming?”
“I haven’t asked yet, but I plan to.”
Angela nodded once. “Then we will come.”
Lucy felt a thrill of triumph. It didn’t matter that her mother wanted Azad at the Easter table so badly. She’d agreed to come, and that was an accomplishment in Lucy’s eyes. She turned back to the stove before her mother could see the satisfaction on her face.
Months ago, her mother’s insistence that she give Azad a second chance would have driven her crazy and she would have had a fast comeback. After all, Azad had broken her heart after college. But since then, he’d been quite persistent that he’d wanted a second chance to make things right, and things had heated up between them, in and out of the kitchen. She’d been unsure, but he had stayed to help as head chef when she’d needed him, which showed that he’d changed. Lucy hadn’t regretted taking the leap into the romance department.
Of course, she didn’t have to admit that to her mother or father.
They’d push for a wedding.
And Lucy wasn’t that sure.
Half an hour later, the stew was ready and the rice pilaf had cooked. The doors opened, and Lucy greeted customers from the hostess stand. The dining room looked quaint and cozy, with a vase of fresh yellow tulips on each table.
Lucy halted Emma on her way to take a customer’s order. “Where’s Max today?”
Emma clicked the pen in one hand and held her waitress pad in the other. “He said he would be on the boardwalk showing a potential buyer the minigolf.”
Lucy tucked the information away. Soon all small talk stopped as the place got busy. Butch and Azad plated dish after dish, then called out numbers to Sally and Emma as their orders were ready for pickup. When Lucy had waitressed she’d been number six, her favorite number. It was an old-fashioned method, but an effective one. Lucy pitched in to help deliver meals to various tables as Sally and Emma were busy with orders or drinks.
“Food must be served hot or not served at all,” Raffi Berberian always insisted.
Lucy scooped up a plate from the stainless-steel counter.
“Business is good today, Lucy Lou,” Butch said with a wink from behind the cook’s wheel.
“Just the way I like it,” Lucy said.
Butch wore a checked bandanna on his head and had a gold tooth that flashed when he smiled. Tall, muscular, and broad, Butch had been the line cook at Kebab Kitchen since Lucy was in pigtails. He was one of the largest men she’d known, but he was friendly, soft spoken, and the last man to get in a bar fight or brawl.
Sally rushed over and took the plate from Lucy’s hands. “Thanks, but I got this. Michael’s here and asking for you. Looks like he wants personal service from our manager. Don’t let Azad find out,” she said with a wink.
Oh, brother. No sense arguing with Sally—once more—that she and Michael were only friends.
Michael sat at a table for two by the bay window overlooking the ocean. Lucy pulled out a chair and sat across from him. His blue eyes seemed even bluer with the sunlight streaming in the window.
“I wanted to be sure you’re okay after last night,” he said.
“I’m fine, but I’m worried about Melanie.”
Michael was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “You should check on her.”
“I plan to.”
He opened his menu. “What do you recommend for lunch?”
“Lamb stew and rice pilaf. Tabbouleh for an appetizer.”
He lowered his menu. “I’m starving already.”
Lucy bit her bottom lip. She wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Hey, Michael. How well do you know your friends Pumpkin and Craig?”
“Like I said at the bonfire, we’re motorcycle buddies and have ridden together for about three years. Why?”
She toyed with the strings of her apron. “It’s just that both men got involved when Gilbert showed up on the beach.”
“So? They were defending your friend.”
Why was he sounding so defensive? “You’re right. But it sounded like they knew Gilbert.”
Michael shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “Th
ey probably did. Everyone knows everyone in Ocean Crest.”
There was truth in that. It was one of the things that had initially bothered her when she’d first moved back home after quitting the firm. But the tight-knit community had soon grown on her. Neighbors looked out for one another, helped one another. Coming from the city, Lucy had quickly rediscovered the advantages of living in a small town.
Still, she wasn’t about to give up on the suspects at the bonfire—and they were all suspects. “Pumpkin seemed most confrontational. What can you tell me about him?”
“Not much. He’s a landscaper. Ask your dad. He put in the mulch beds and flowers here.”
“He did?” She’d appreciated the blooming spring tulips and daffodils in front of the restaurant. For some reason, she’d thought her mother had planted them. She should have known better. Angela Berberian was talented in the kitchen, but she did not have a green thumb. Lucy recalled her mother purchasing an aloe vera plant to keep in the kitchen for small cuts or minor burns. The gardener who had sold it to her had assured her that they were easy plants to maintain. It hadn’t lasted two weeks before rotting from overwatering.
“I don’t mean to question you about your friends and—”
“Sure, you do.”
The noisy conversation in the restaurant seemed a distant din as she focused on Michael’s face. “Pardon?”
“I know that look in your eye, Lucy Berberian. Are you planning on investigating Gilbert’s murder? Maybe with Katie’s help?”
Just great. She wasn’t sure how to answer that question, but Michael was a friend and she didn’t relish lying to him. “I’m not sure yet.” The truth. “I’ll let you know.”
“Well, if you want to know more, I have the perfect opportunity for you to talk with both Pumpkin and Craig.”
“Another beach bonfire?”
“Nope. You haven’t forgotten the big motorcycle ride down Ocean Avenue to Cape May, have you?”
The Bikers on the Beach Festival always had one big ride through the center of town and down the Garden State Parkway to Cape May. Friends and family sponsored each biker. It was part of their fund-raising efforts to benefit veterans.
“I haven’t forgotten. Why?”
“Will you ride with me? Pumpkin and Craig will be there, too, of course.”
Lucy’s pulse pounded with excitement every time Michael asked her to ride on the back of his shiny, chrome Harley-Davidson. She’d gone from fear of the loud bike to loving the rides.
But to ride with him for the festival? It was customary for wives, girlfriends, or significant others to ride with the bikers. Azad wouldn’t like it. Hostility radiated from both men when they were in the same room, but Lucy and Azad had moved past it. She was dating Azad, not Michael.
But the incentive Michael had dangled like a carrot in front of Lucy was as tempting as riding the Harley down Ocean Avenue. She’d get a chance to question both Craig and Pumpkin about Gilbert’s death.
She grew aware of Michael’s blue gaze as she contemplated his request. It was never really a question, was it?
“Yes, I’d love to ride with you.”
Chapter Seven
Hours later, Lucy took a break after a busy lunch shift. It was usual for her to jog on the boardwalk or run errands or simply take an hour or two to herself before returning to the restaurant for a busy dinner shift. Her parents, Azad and Butch would cover for her.
Lucy went to the small office in the corner of the storage room and changed into navy shorts and a gray, faded Ocean Crest T-shirt. Even though it was April and there was still a chill in the air, she’d soon be sweating during her run. Her route was the same. She’d jog to the boardwalk ramp, run the length of the boardwalk, then make her way back on the beach. It was always harder to run on the sand. Even with a sea breeze, the sun blazed hotter, and her running shoes would sink in the sand and she’d have to exert more energy.
She made it to the boardwalk and chugged up the ramp. It was a pleasant spring afternoon and puffs of clouds dotted the blue sky. A rabbit darted across the path to the ramp and she smiled. Soon, Easter would be here and she looked forward to celebrating with family and friends. What could be a better housewarming than to host Easter dinner?
She set a steady pace. She loved the varied mix of shops on the Ocean Crest boardwalk. Different tourists and different items for sale on the racks outside the shops and the beautiful ocean view ensured her jogs would never be boring.
The boardwalk was busier than it had been in weeks. The shops always hoped for a boost in business during the Bikers on the Beach festival. Motorcycles weren’t allowed on the boardwalk, but that didn’t stop festivalgoers from walking the boards. Lucy spotted more than one Harley-Davidson T-shirt and leather jacket. The bikers weren’t just men. Women bikers joined their male counterparts as they strolled from shop to shop, many sporting colorful tattoos on their arms and necks.
She passed two pizza shops, Harold Harper’s T-shirt shop, and Madame Vega’s psychic salon. She inhaled the scent of french fries and funnel cake. If she wasn’t running to stay in shape, she would have indulged in fried food heaven. Lucy waved at the fortune-teller and Madame Vega, dressed in her signature blue turban with its large fake sapphire, waved back. A skinny, bald man with a T-shirt that read “DEA, Drink Every Afternoon,” sat at a red, velvet-draped table as Madame read his tarot cards.
Lucy had never believed in the cards until a few months back, when they’d revealed more than she’d ever expected. She still didn’t fully believe, but she no longer mocked the cards or doubted the longtime boardwalk psychic.
A loudspeaker blared, “Watch the tramcar please!” and Lucy jolted. She returned her attention to the boardwalk to see a bright yellow and blue tramcar heading in her direction. She moved to the side as the tramcar motored by. A Jersey boardwalk fixture, it carried twenty passengers—mostly senior citizens, parents, babies in strollers, or tired tourists—from one end of the boardwalk to the other. Two college students dressed in matching yellow-and-blue tops and black shorts worked the tram, one to drive it and the other to stand in the rear and collect the three-dollar fee. The loudspeaker and the endlessly repeating message could be an annoying inconvenience.
Lucy kept jogging, her running shoes pounding the boards. Since returning to Ocean Crest, she’d built up her endurance. The exercise was time to herself and her thoughts, and she’d often stop on the beach to sit on the jetty, watch the vast Atlantic Ocean, and sip from her water bottle.
But she had different destinations in mind today.
She spotted the hanging sign that blew in a current of ocean air: “Haven Candies.” A young, pimply faced worker stood outside, handing out fudge samples. Lucy knew the part-time community college student who helped Melanie out between classes.
“Hi, Sarah,”
“Oh, hi, Lucy. Peanut-butter fudge today. Want one?” Sarah held out a tray crammed with small cut pieces of fudge.
Lucy eyed the samples longingly. “What the heck. Why not?” She popped one in her mouth.
Heaven.
The creamy chocolate and peanut butter combo danced like a ballet on her tongue. She wanted another and eyed the plate like Adam must have eyed the forbidden apple in Eve’s hand. That was the problem with sugar. One taste and she craved more.
“Melanie’s inside and just about to make a batch of fudge.”
Lucy glanced inside the candy shop’s large bay window, and sure enough, Melanie appeared and picked up a large wooden handle and started mixing a batch of fudge in a copper pot. The sight of candy makers in the widows mixing fudge or pulling taffy was a tourist favorite. It was also a master sales technique, and customers would pour inside the shops to buy candy.
“Thanks, Sarah.” Lucy forced herself to turn away from the temptation of the samples and made a beeline into the shop.
Melanie was stirring a pot of vanilla fudge mixture with a four-foot long, wooden paddle. Dressed in a white-and-blue-checked apron, a
white hat, and a shirt emblazoned with the Haven Candies name and the logo of a piece of wrapped saltwater taffy, Melanie smiled in greeting. “Hey, Lucy! I’m making fudge. Want to help?”
“Sure.”
Melanie’s voice was cheerful, but there were dark circles beneath her eyes. Wisps of auburn hair escaped her hat to curl at her temples. It had been two days since the murder. Lucy would have come to check on Melanie sooner, but it had also been well after midnight before the police had allowed everyone to leave the beach and she was still recovering from the horrible events of that night. Detective Clemmons, along with the crime scene investigators, had to process the scene swiftly. No one would see crime scene tape on the beach. Everything, including any footprints, had washed away with the high tide.
Lucy was unsure how to ask about Melanie’s welfare. Instead, she swallowed and then focused on the fudge. “What are the ingredients?”
“Twelve pounds of sugar, three quarts of cream, milk, and the chocolate wafers for chocolate fudge.”
Twelve pounds of sugar! No wonder the fudge was so addictive. “What, exactly, are those?” Lucy asked, pointing to the bag beside the copper kettle.
“Pure chocolate wafers, no sugar. Try one.”
Lucy popped one in her mouth and immediately wrinkled her nose. “Bitter!”
“Like I said, no sugar.” Melanie added the wafers, mixed them in, then began to pull the fudge in the air in a three-foot ribbon of deliciousness.
Lucy watched, fascinated.
“Want to try?” Melanie asked. “There are aprons by the counter.”
Lucy tied an apron around her waist and took the proffered handle from Melanie.
“Stir from front to back with the paddle, not in a circle,” Melanie instructed.
