by Tina Kashian
Lucy began to stir the fudge in the copper kettle. It wasn’t as easy as it looked and took a good deal of effort.
“Not in a circle, remember?” Melanie said.
She tried to pull the fudge with the paddle in a ribbon like she’d seen Melanie and other boardwalk candy makers do since she was a kid, but only succeeded in causing a mess and getting fudge on the pristine, white apron.
Melanie chuckled. “It takes practice.”
“And stamina. I thought I was in shape from jogging. Your biceps must be like iron.”
“I think I could hold my own in an arm-wrestling contest. Come to think of it, you should arrange one on the boardwalk.”
Lucy was glad to see Melanie’s first genuine smile. She waited until Melanie poured the fudge into square pans. “They’ll cool overnight and then be ready to be cut and put behind the counter for sale.” Melanie picked up two of the pans. “If you don’t mind, can you carry the kettle into the back?”
“Of course.” Lucy picked up the copper kettle and followed Melanie into the back of the shop. The kettle made a thud when Lucy placed it in the stainless-steel sink. “Gosh, it’s heavy.”
“Solid copper,” Melanie said. “It’s also old and was my parents’ when they ran the candy store.”
Lucy wiped her hands on a damp dish towel. “Melanie, the reason I stopped by was to check on you, and to be sure you are all right since the bonfire.”
A pained expression crossed Melanie’s face. “I can’t believe Gilbert is dead.”
“Have the police come around to ask you more questions?”
Melanie blinked, her brow furrowing. “No. Do you think they will?”
She did, but she also didn’t see a reason to alarm Melanie. Not when her friend already looked ill. She decided vagueness was best. “I don’t know.” Lucy shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. “Melanie, why didn’t you want to make s’mores that night?”
Melanie untied her apron and hung it on a hook on the wall. “I told you. I make s’mores and fudge at the shop. I’m not tempted by candy like everyone else. It’s just business to me. I thought to take advantage of having some time to myself on the beach.”
Lucy believed her. “When you weren’t with the rest of us, did you hear or see anything?”
“No. That’s what I told the police.”
“Nothing?”
Melanie’s gaze held Lucy’s. “No. You believe me, don’t you, Lucy?”
“I do. But I heard you scream and ran to find you standing over Gilbert.”
“I stumbled on his body,” Melanie said in a low, troubled voice. “I screamed because I was shocked. Wouldn’t anyone be to find him like . . . like that?”
Something flashed in Melanie’s eyes, but it was gone as fast as it appeared. Was it a quirk of the sunlight from an overhead window, or something else? Was she reliving the horrifying moment?
Lucy watched her friend carefully as she responded. “Yes, I’d be, too.”
Melanie began to wipe down the counter with a wet rag, her movements rapid and uneasy. “I know it looks bad. Everyone saw me arguing with Gilbert over my rent. I was by myself while the group made s’mores. I found his body. And the coroner pulled out a wad of my root beer saltwater taffy from Gilbert’s throat.”
When she summed it up like that, it sounded even worse. Lucy could just imagine what County Prosecutor Marsha Walsh would declare at a summation during a criminal trial. Lucy’d had more than one encounter with the smart, wily prosecutor at Kebab Kitchen in the past, and she didn’t want another.
Melanie tossed the rag into a bucket and turned back to Lucy. “Can you do something for me? Can you look into who killed Gilbert?”
It was Lucy’s turn to blink in surprise. “Me?”
“You’ve done it before, and I don’t trust the police. Detective Clemmons thinks I killed him. He is looking for more evidence before he arrests me. I just know it. But I didn’t kill Gilbert!”
The thing was, Lucy believed Melanie, but not entirely. Instinct told her that her friend was keeping something from her, but what and why?
Why not tell the police if it could help clarify things and take away any suspicion from herself? Why ask Lucy to investigate?
Even though her inquisitive mind had already started asking questions, it was still unnerving for Melanie to request that she investigate.
Melanie stepped close. “Please!”
Whether it was the desperation in Melanie’s eyes or Lucy’s own nature to help others, she found herself saying, “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”
* * *
After leaving Melanie’s shop, Lucy continued with her jog. She wasn’t sure what to make of her meeting with Melanie. She’d stopped by to check on her, and had been surprised at Melanie’s plea for her to find the killer.
Lucy’s instincts had told her something was off with Melanie. She wasn’t sure what, but she’d learned over the years not to ignore the gut feeling in her stomach. Maybe she should backtrack and pay a visit to Madame Vega to see what the tarot cards might tell her.
No. She didn’t have time to indulge. She had one more stop in mind. After running past a dozen more boardwalk shops, she spotted the flashing sign that read BOARDWALK BLACKLIGHT MINIGOLF. Four apartment units were located above the minigolf, and Lucy knew that both year-long renters and seasonal renters occupied the units. She’d once asked Max about the units, but with their ocean views they were out of her price range. It wasn’t too upsetting. She didn’t want to live above a boardwalk shop. During the summer nights, the noise from the boardwalk and the screams from the roller coaster on the amusement pier could be heard blocks away.
She entered the place. Inside a small lobby, a woman with dyed auburn hair who was chewing a wad of bubble gum and reading a fashion magazine sat behind a money-collecting booth.
“Hi,” Lucy said. “I’m not here to golf, but to see Max. I was told he would be here.”
The woman glimpsed away from her magazine to wave at Lucy. “Go on inside. The place is empty this time of day.”
Lucy stepped inside and blinked as her eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight to the darkness.
A large room showcased the neon putting green. Holes were featured all around an outside ring on an artificial felt green. Each hole glowed in bright, fluorescent colors beneath ultraviolet black lights. She glanced down at herself. In her gray T-shirt and dark shorts, she was completely invisible, except for her glowing, white shoelaces.
The woman in the ticket booth had been right; the place was empty. Lucy stepped onto the green and walked from hole to hole. She’d played this indoor course more than once and was familiar with the displays—a turning windmill, a spinning waterwheel, a medieval castle with a drawbridge ramp, and others for a total of nine holes. All the glowing holes required some skill with a player’s putter to progress to the next challenge.
The last hole featured a clown. If the ball landed in the clown’s mouth, the ball would be captured in a trapdoor, and the player couldn’t play additional rounds without purchasing another game. The first player of a group to reach the clown would win the round. The clown’s curly, red hair and garish scarlet lips glowed eerily, while its white face shimmered an unearthly white. The clown had always creeped her out as a teenager. Looking at it now, it still did, and gooseflesh rose on her arms.
Don’t be a ninny!
She was older and wiser now. Clowns shouldn’t scare her, even glow-in-the-dark ones. Taking a deep breath, she approached it hesitantly. She reached out to touch it, just as something smacked her hard in the center of her back and sent her flying forward.
Chapter Eight
“Ouch!” Lucy stumbled forward to catch herself on the clown’s glowing, red nose.
What the heck was that?
She whirled to see a dark figure running toward her.
Not a figure. A man.
Panic welled in her chest. She struggled to her feet as footsteps pounded
toward her.
A firm hand settled on her arm. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you. Are you all right?”
Eyes wide, Lucy focused her gaze on the man’s face—then on a head of fair hair and the tall, wiry build. Recognition dawned. “Craig?”
“Lucy?” He dropped the putter he’d been holding in his free hand and it made a dull thud on the green felt.
“What are you doing here?” Her sluggish mind raced to put two and two together. He must have been golfing and hadn’t seen her in her dark clothing.
Craig offered a hand and helped Lucy to her feet. “I’m meeting a real estate broker to buy this place. I figured I’d try my hand at the course while I waited. I apologize; I didn’t see you.”
Lucy took a couple of breaths to calm her racing heart. The clown, the stinging in her midback, and the shock of a dark figure racing toward her left her unsteady. “You’re meeting Max? To buy this place?”
“Yes. Do you know him?”
“He’s my brother-in-law.”
“Go figure. Ocean Crest is a small world.”
It sure was. Lucy brushed dirt from her shorts.
“Come on. Let’s get out of this glow-in-the dark area so we can talk.” He took her arm and steered her toward the exit. Both of them squinted at the brightness.
Peering back inside, Lucy could still make out the scary clown. She suppressed a shiver.
Craig eyed her from head to toe. “Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”
“My back may be a little sore tomorrow, but I’ll be okay.” She was suddenly conscious of her old T-shirt and shorts with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She suspected tendrils of her curly hair had escaped and probably looked like a frizzy halo in the shore humidity. She resisted the urge to smooth the wisps.
“I’m so sorry. I was taking a run through the course. I thought the place was empty,” he said.
Craig was one of Michael’s motorcycle-riding friends and a good guitar player, too. She’d never guess he’d enjoy minigolf.
“It’s not your fault and I’m not exactly dressed to stand out,” she said.
“Truth is, I didn’t expect to see you so soon after what happened at the bonfire,” Craig said.
“That was a tragedy, but I never had a chance to thank you and Pumpkin for standing up to Gilbert and helping Melanie. She’s a friend,” Lucy said.
“Any friend of Michael’s is a friend of mine.”
She thought about the evening. The way Craig had addressed Gilbert that night had made it seem like he’d known Gilbert, or had at least been somewhat familiar with him. But how? She was just about to ask him when another male voice caught her attention.
“Lucy, what are you doing here?”
Lucy whirled to see Max approach. Dressed in a button-down blue shirt and a red tie, a frown marred his brow. Her brother-in-law did not look happy.
“Hey, Max. I came here to see you, when I ran into Craig,” Lucy said.
“Craig is looking to purchase the minigolf and the four apartments above it. I’m showing him the property,” Max said.
He’d already told her he was thinking of buying the minigolf, but she’d forgotten about the apartments. Why would he want the four apartments that came with the business?
Lucy turned her attention to Craig. “I know we recently met, but I’m still surprised. At the bonfire, I learned you’re a guitar player, a singer, and a motorcycle enthusiast, but not this,” she said, waving her hand toward the nine-hole course.
“Tourists love the blacklight minigolf. What else is there to do during the season when it’s raining and not a good beach day? Parents line up to bring their kids here,” Craig said.
He had a good point. If there was a cold or drizzling day, there wasn’t much to do on vacation at the Jersey shore except see a movie, hang out in a cramped hotel room, or play minigolf. The fact that the place was neon and indoors made it go-to entertainment during a rainstorm.
“The apartments above the place are an added incentive. I’ve been a landlord for years,” Craig said.
“Really?” The only other professional landlord she’d known had been Gilbert Lubinski.
“Too bad your night out with your lady friends and Michael at the bonfire was ruined by Gilbert,” Craig said.
“I wouldn’t say Gilbert ruined our evening. The man was murdered,” Lucy said.
Craig looked contrite. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be so cold. After all, we were business partners.”
He was surprising her more and more. “You were?”
“We both owned equal shares of the Seagull Condominiums in Bayville. Have you heard of the place?” Craig asked.
Melanie had mentioned the condos, but Lucy had no idea Craig had been Gilbert’s partner and owned a share. Bayville was close to Ocean Crest. As its name suggested, the town bordered the bay, not the ocean, and as a result, it wasn’t as big with the tourists, but it was only a short drive to Ocean Crest and the beach. The Seagull Condos was a large, four-story complex. If there was no vacancy at the Sandpiper Bed and Breakfast in town or another close-by motel, a family could rent one of the condominiums during the season. Other residents lived in the units year-round.
Lucy recalled how Craig had acted the night of the bonfire when Gilbert had confronted Melanie about her rent. Pumpkin had stepped in, but Craig had also told Gilbert off.
“You didn’t act like partners on the beach,” Lucy pointed out.
Craig shrugged. “Ah, well. Gilbert and I didn’t always see eye to eye.”
“Business partners don’t have to be friends to be successful, Lucy,” Max said.
If they weren’t friends, what had they been? Enemies? Rivals? And with Gilbert dead, who received the other half of the condominiums? They must be pretty valuable.
“Now, what did you want to talk to me about?” Max asked, his voice tense.
Lucy’s gaze snapped to Max. It was clear he didn’t want her to interfere with a potential sale. She got the message loud and clear. “Oh, no biggie. I wanted to invite you and Niari to dinner at the restaurant tonight. The special is lamb stew.” Lucy wouldn’t mind seeing her niece for dinner.
“Sounds good,” Max said. “We can talk then, okay?”
“Good luck.” Lucy was fine with the dismissal. She’d learned more than she’d hoped for. Giving a jaunty wave to both men, she headed for the boardwalk. She tried not to glance back at the clown on her way out.
* * *
Katie stopped by Kebab Kitchen after leaving work at the town hall that evening. She sat in one of the maple booths, plopped down her purse, and sniffed the air. “What smells so good in here?”
“Lamb stew. Want some to take home to Bill? My mom’s in the kitchen, and she’d be happy to pack him a large takeout container.”
“He’ll be thrilled. He thinks your mother is all the bomb.”
“She loves to feed people and is always trying to stuff food down my throat. If Bill moved in with my mom and dad, he’d gain ten pounds in a week.”
“He wouldn’t care.” Katie placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Now tell me again what both Melanie and Craig said. Starting with Melanie.”
Lucy had already filled Katie in on both of her boardwalk visits. “Melanie wants me to investigate Gilbert’s murder.”
“That’s a pretty big ask, even for someone with your history of solving crimes,” Katie said.
“You mean our history of crime solving.” Lucy rubbed her chin. “But you should have seen Melanie. She looked desperate.”
“You still think she’s innocent?”
Lucy fingered the napkin on the table as she considered the question. “I do. But there’s something she’s not telling me or the police.”
“Such as?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a gut feeling.”
Katie pursed her lips. “We need to dig deeper. Meanwhile, I looked into Craig Smith. He really was partners with Gilbert, and they each owned half the Bayville Seag
ull condominiums.”
“I still can’t believe it. They didn’t seem to have anything in common.” Thinking back to the night of the bonfire, they had seemed somewhat hostile. Not as angry as Pumpkin had acted toward Gilbert, but certainly not friendly.
“It gets better. Craig made several offers to buy Gilbert’s share of the condos, but he refused. Gilbert then turned around and was in negotiation to sell to another buyer. Craig must have been furious, because three months ago, the Bayville police were called to break up a fight between the two.”
Lucy looked at her in surprise. “How do you know that?”
“A few strokes of the keyboard at the town hall. All county police reports are public record.”
“Craig didn’t tell me that.”
“I’m not surprised. It’s motive for murder.”
Lucy pursed her lips in thought. “So, who gets the other half of the Seagull Condos now?”
Chapter Nine
Dating a chef had its advantages. Azad knew food, and he also knew which restaurants offered the best cuisine in South Jersey. In the past, he’d taken Lucy to Le Gabriel, a French restaurant that required reservations months in advance.
Lucy wasn’t sure what to expect the following evening, but when Azad showed up at her apartment with a full bag of groceries in each arm, she knew she was in for a treat.
“I thought we could eat in and I could cook for you.”
Unsure where they were headed, she’d dressed with care in a light blue blouse and a gray pencil skirt. Azad looked good in a navy golf shirt. The color flattered his olive complexion and dark eyes and the tailoring emphasized his broad shoulders. She’d always found him attractive, even back in high school, and after spending eight years in Philadelphia and returning home to Ocean Crest, he’d grown even more handsome.
She held back a sigh. She was no longer a starry-eyed teenager. She was a grown woman in an adult relationship.
Gadoo came out from the bedroom to meow a big welcome and then rub against Azad’s leg.
“Hey, Gadoo. Looks like you’ve made yourself at home here,” Azad said.
“I think he misses you,” Lucy said.
