On the Lamb

by Tina Kashian

  Bill shot his wife a sidelong glance. “I don’t think Lucy’s intuition is admissible in a court of law.”

  “Gilbert was business partners with Craig Smith. They each owned half of the Seagull Condominiums in Bayville,” Lucy said.

  “The police know. You two do realize that we investigate, right?” Bill said.

  Katie folded her arms across her chest. “Craig and Gilbert fought over a potential sale of the condos. There’s a Bayville police report detailing the event.”

  Bill spoke without a hint of boastfulness. “We know that, too.”

  “Then you should be looking into Craig Smith, not just Melanie,” Katie argued.

  Bill glared at his wife. “If Clemmons had stopped investigating leads, then Melanie would be behind bars.”

  Lucy couldn’t argue with that logic. She also wanted to tell him that Gilbert had been a town loan shark and that he’d loaned money to Kevin Crowley, the tramcar mogul, but held her tongue. She needed to talk this over and confirm it with Katie first.

  “Is there anything else you can tell us, Bill?” Katie asked.

  “Other than to stay out of it?” There was a bitter edge of cynicism in his voice.

  Katie wasn’t the least perturbed by it. She kissed her husband on the cheek. “Yes, other than that.”

  The show of affection had its desired effect. Bill’s brow smoothed and he smiled down at his wife.

  She is smooth! Lucy would have to learn how to calm Azad in the future. What could it take? A brush of the lips, a full-blown kiss, a massaging of the shoulders? Lucy wouldn’t mind trying any one of those tactics.

  “If it’s any consolation, we’re looking into Gilbert’s wife, Sophia Lubinski,” Bill offered.

  Lucy blinked in surprise. “We didn’t know he was married.” She couldn’t comprehend how anyone had found Gilbert’s overbearing personality charming enough to marry.

  “They were in the final processes of a nasty divorce. No life insurance, so no motive there,” Bill said.

  Another thought occurred to Lucy. “But as his wife, she’d inherit his half of the Seagull Condos. That’s motive, isn’t it?”

  “Could be. I’m sure Clemmons will look in to it.” Bill picked up his officer’s hat and car keys from the counter. “I want to tell both of you to keep your noses out of this, ladies, but I also know better by now. Just promise that you’ll stay out of trouble.”

  They nodded in unison.

  As soon as Bill left for the station, Katie reached for one of the pastries in the box. “Give me a second to change, then we can talk more, especially about Sophia.”

  Lucy shook her head. “Forget about changing. Do you have any workout clothes I can borrow? A T-shirt and shorts? I wouldn’t dream of fitting into your pants. I’d trip over them.”

  “Sure. Why?”

  “We need to go for a boardwalk run.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Lucy and Katie ran side-by-side. Katie was over six inches taller, and Lucy had to pump her legs faster to keep up, but months of training made it possible to stay in sync. It was before nine, and already a throng of early-morning joggers, walkers, and bicycle riders were on the boardwalk. The roller coaster on the pier was still; the rides wouldn’t start until noon.

  Lucy mulled what they’d so far learned. Craig and Gilbert had fought over the sale of the condos. Gilbert had been going through a nasty divorce that hadn’t been finalized, and chances were his wife, Sophia, would inherit his share of the condominiums.

  Then there was the information Azad had provided about Kevin Crowley. That was the reason she had dragged Katie to the boardwalk this morning.

  They ran past the Breakfast Shack, and Lucy breathed in the tantalizing smell of freshly brewed coffee and toasted bagels when she heard, “Watch the tramcar, please!” blare from speakers from behind her.

  “It’s just on time,” Katie said.

  Lucy turned to see the oncoming bright-yellow-and-blue boardwalk tramcar. They halted by the iron railing, and Lucy raised her hand to wave at the approaching vehicle. The tramcar slowed, then came to a stop.

  Together, Lucy and Katie stepped onto the tram and walked down the center aisle. Passing senior citizens, and parents with infants or toddlers in strollers, they finally spotted an open seat. They slid across the bench, their sweaty skin sticking to the plastic seat. The college-aged girl, who was dressed in the signature yellow-and-blue top and black shorts, approached, and they both paid with five-dollar bills. The girl reached in the money-belt tied around her waist and gave them change. Then the tramcar jerked forward as it began its crawl up the boardwalk. Walkers and bicyclists scrambled to get out of the tram’s way.

  “Does this thing stop at the end of the boardwalk?” Katie asked.

  Lucy shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never ridden it.”

  Katie shot Lucy an incredulous look. “Really? You grew up in Ocean Crest and you never rode the tramcar?”

  “I guess I always jogged or walked, no matter how tired I was. If you’ve been on it, you should know where it stops,” Lucy argued.

  Katie glowered at her. “I’ve always ridden it back toward my home, not in this direction.”

  Lucy assumed the tram would stop at the very end of the boardwalk. She leaned back on the bench and glanced at the scenery. To the right was the ocean and the pristine Ocean Crest beach. A few beach walkers enjoyed a pleasant morning stroll as seagulls soared above. To the left, the boardwalk shops became a colorful blur as they drove by. Lucy spotted Madame Vega smoking a cigarette outside her psychic parlor. She waved and Madame waved back.

  “Are you seeing the psychic regularly for romantic advice?”

  Lucy’s lips curved in a smile. “What makes you think I need any advice?”

  Katie looked at her with renewed interest. “Ah, your date night with Azad went well? Did he spend the night?”

  Lucy felt her cheeks grow warm. “Azad wants to take things slow.”

  “He must really like you. Either that or he fears for his job.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “Oh, brother. Now you sound like my landlady. She brought up the employer /employee relationship.”

  “She has a point,” Katie said. “If you ask me, I think Azad likes working as head chef at Kebab Kitchen. I don’t think he wants to go back to being a sous slave for some bigwig Atlantic City chef.”

  Lucy’s brow furrowed as she contemplated Katie’s words. She often thought of why Azad had stayed to help her as head chef after her parents announced they wanted to ease into retirement. She couldn’t have managed the restaurant without him. She knew he felt strongly about the place, and he’d once mentioned that the restaurant was hard to leave. Once again, she pondered his motives. Had he stayed for her parents, the pull of the family restaurant, or her?

  “I guess I haven’t thought about it that way,” Lucy said.

  “Don’t look so glum. I meant it as a compliment. Azad chose you, not a celebrity chef in a five-star restaurant,” Katie said, then glanced ahead. “Look, we’re coming to the end.”

  The tramcar slowed, then came to a stop by a custard stand.

  Just off the end of the boardwalk was the municipal pier, where trash and recycling were stored until it could be transported to the county landfill. A small Bobcat and other construction equipment were parked on the pier, along with tramcars that weren’t currently in use. From what she could see, three tramcars were parked there now.

  “Let’s get out and see if we can find Kevin Crowley,” Lucy said.

  She waved to the attendant. They hopped off the tramcar onto the boardwalk. The tramcar made a U-turn and headed back the way it had come, all the while blaring, “Watch the tramcar, please!”

  “Ugh, I think I’d go insane if I had to work on the tram and listen to that message all day long,” Lucy said.

  “I may complain about working at the town hall, but it’s heaven next to that,” Katie said.

  “Come on.”

  The m
unicipal pier was a short walk from where they’d stopped. Rows of dumpsters and recycling containers were lined up like silent sentinels on one end. Three yellow-and-blue tramcars were parked in the middle of the pier. She walked by each tramcar, and didn’t see a person in sight. It was eerily silent here, no tourists or cyclists or joggers.

  Lucy sighed, disappointed. Her idea had amounted to a dead end. “No one’s here. Maybe we should leave.”

  Katie placed a hand on her arm. “Not yet. What about that trailer at the end of the pier? Someone could be inside.”

  “What trail—?” Lucy’s question died as she spotted the white-and-gray trailer beyond the row of dumpsters. “Good eye. I would have missed it.”

  Lucy wrinkled her nose as they passed the smelly dumpsters. In just a few weeks, they would be full to the brim with trash from all the tourists. She would never want to work in a trailer this close to the smelly receptacles. The only saving grace was that the trailer was located at the very end of the pier, and a steady gust of refreshing ocean air blew away most of the stinky smells. A few feet from the trailer, steps led to the beach.

  Lucy approached the trailer, knocked twice on the door, then waited alongside Katie.

  Nothing.

  “Too bad. No one’s here,” Katie said.

  Lucy reached for the door handle and found the trailer unlocked. She cracked it open an inch, then glanced over her shoulder. “Let’s take a look.”

  Katie bit her bottom lip. “Are you serious?”

  Lucy tugged on her arm. For all her love of crime and detective television shows, Katie could get cold feet when faced with snooping.

  “We’ll make it quick. We won’t have a better opportunity. If you’re nervous, stand outside and keep a lookout. I’m going in,” Lucy said.

  Katie stiffened and shook her head. “No way! Two can search faster than one.”

  Lucy was relieved to have her friend’s help. She opened the door and stepped inside the trailer. Katie was right behind her. It was a small and narrow space. An oak desk and filing cabinet occupied almost half the trailer. A stack of papers piled on the corner of the desk were held in place beneath a stone paperweight. Two plastic folding chairs were in front of the desk.

  “You look at the papers on the desk, and I’ll look in the filing cabinet,” Lucy said.

  Katie was already reaching for the paperweight. “What are we searching for?”

  “Anything that mentions Gilbert Lubinski, especially any loan papers.”

  Katie began sifting through papers, and Lucy opened the top drawer of the filing cabinet. She flipped through neatly labeled file folders and spied invoices from mechanics to repair the tramcars, to timesheets for the employees who worked on the trams.

  “There’s nothing here,” Katie said.

  “I’m not finding anything unusual either.”

  Katie neatly stacked the papers and placed the paperweight on top. “I have a bad feeling about this. Let’s get out of here before we’re discovered.”

  “All right.”

  Katie reached for the doorknob just as voices sounded outside the trailer. Wide-eyed, they looked at each other.

  “Oh, no,” Katie said.

  Lucy’s gaze flew to the back of the trailer, but there was no entrance or exit other than the one they’d come through.

  Crap.

  “What do we do?” Katie whispered.

  Lucy’s mind whirled. The voices were directly outside; their options were limited. Hide or ’fess up to snooping.

  “Sit in front of the desk,” Lucy said.

  “What?”

  Lucy pulled out one of the plastic chairs. “Sit. We can claim we were waiting for him.”

  Seconds later, the door opened. A balding, middle-aged man with brown hair and a thick mustache walked inside. He was dressed casually, in a short-sleeved, collared shirt and blue jeans, and carried a clipboard in his right hand. He halted when he spotted them. “I didn’t realize I had company waiting for me.”

  Katie stood and extended her hand. “Hello, Mr. Crowley. I’m Katie Watson, and this is Lucy Berberian. We’re with the township, and we are planning to run a series of articles in the Ocean Crest Town News about local business owners. We were wondering if we could interview you. You’d be our first.”

  Lucy masked her surprise. For someone who’d had the jitters about searching the trailer, Katie had come up with a great lie and backed it with bravado.

  At the mention of an article, Mr. Crowley’s hostility at finding two intruders in his trailer visibly eased. He pumped Katie’s hand, then Lucy’s. “Kevin Crowley at your service. Please sit.”

  Lucy’s heart pounded as she resumed her seat. Mr. Crowley sat behind his desk, his chair springs squeaking as he leaned forward and folded his hands on the desk. “What would you two like to know?”

  A small notepad and pencil materialized from Katie’s purse. She flipped open the notepad. “How’d you start this business?”

  “I didn’t. My daddy did. Tramcars are the family business. Everybody needs a ride now and then,” Mr. Crowley said.

  “Very true. We grew tired during our jog and rode your tramcar today,” Lucy said.

  “Good to hear,” Mr. Crowley said. “I’ve been thinking of raising the three-dollar fee to four-fifty.”

  “That’s a big hike,” Katie said.

  “More tourists visit Ocean Crest every summer. My trams usually run full during the season,” Mr. Crowley said.

  Lucy took a breath and asked the question that had been on her mind. “Have you heard about the murder of Gilbert Lubinski on the beach?”

  He hesitated, his eyes meeting hers. “I have. All crime is a shame, let alone a murder,” he said.

  “Did you know Gilbert?” Lucy asked.

  “Not particularly. I run a tramcar business. He was an Ocean Crest landlord. We didn’t socialize.”

  “You knew he was a landlord?” Katie asked.

  Mr. Crowley steepled his fingers on the desk. “Ocean Crest is a small town. Business owners are familiar with each other. One of my college-aged workers needed an apartment rental. I sent her to Mr. Lubinski.”

  “That was thoughtful of you,” Katie said.

  “Why all the questions about Gilbert? I thought you were interviewing me for an Ocean Crest Town News article.” He leaned forward in his seat and glowered at them. “Come to think of it, why are you doing the interviewing and not Stan Slade from the paper?”

  Oh no. Time to go.

  “Like I said, I work for the township,” Katie said. “We are conducting preinterviews to determine who we want featured by the Town News. I’ll then reach out to Mr. Slade for a full-blown interview.”

  Suspicion glinted in his gaze. “And my interview has to do with Gilbert Lubinski?”

  If there was one thing Lucy had learned in law school, it was to never show nervousness or weakness to an opponent. She tilted her head to the side and met his gaze. “A murder is big news anywhere, let alone our own small town, Mr. Crowley. People want to know how local businessmen like yourself are faring. That’s the only reason for our inquiries.”

  Mr. Crowley regarded her, then nodded. “Although I’m sorry for his family, I’m faring just fine. Business hasn’t suffered.”

  Both Lucy and Katie stood. It was time to make a hasty exit.

  “Thanks for your time,” Lucy said. “We will be in touch about the interview.”

  * * *

  Lucy waited until they were back on the boardwalk before turning to Katie. “For not wanting to search Mr. Crowley’s trailer, you sure thought fast on your feet. An interview for a Town News article about local businessmen? How’d you think of that?”

  “I don’t know,” Katie said, kicking a small shell out of her path. “It just sprang to mind. Something I saw on an episode of Hawaii Five-O. You recovered pretty quick yourself when you told him murder is big news and that people want to know how it has effected local business.”

  “I wish I c
ould point to a crime TV show.”

  Katie halted by the custard stand and pulled out a ten-dollar bill from her shorts. “After that close call, I need sugar. I’m buying. Don’t whine about the calories.”

  “I’d never complain about custard.” Lucy smiled at the college-age boy behind the counter as she ordered. The custard was a Jersey shore favorite.

  Minutes later, they were seated by a bench overlooking the ocean and licking their own cones. Lucy had ordered an orange-and-vanilla twist—one of the custard stand’s most popular combinations. Katie’s tastes were simpler; she enjoyed a vanilla-and-chocolate twist in a sugar cone.

  An ocean breeze teased tendrils of hair that had escaped Lucy’s ponytail. In the distance, she spotted the jetty she often stopped at during her jogs. The limitlessness of the Atlantic Ocean was calming and had a way of making even the most complex problems seem small. Today, the ocean was calm and puffs of cloud dotted the sky.

  “What do you think about Mr. Crowley?” Lucy asked.

  “He said he didn’t interact with Gilbert, but then he referred his employee to Gilbert for an apartment. Sounds like Kevil Crowley knew Gilbert a bit better than he’d like us to think.”

  “It doesn’t mean he murdered Gilbert,” Lucy said. “What he said was also true about businesspeople being familiar with each other. My parents know many of Ocean Crest’s business owners. My dad always says, “It’s a small world; don’t misbehave.”

  “We didn’t find anything to link him to Gilbert, especially any loans. And he wasn’t on the beach the night of the bonfire.”

  “Not that we saw him. Did you notice how close the trailer was to the steps leading to the beach? He could easily have walked onto the beach that night,” Lucy said.

  “You’re right. It was dark. We weren’t exactly looking for others.”

  Lucy licked her cone. “He had opportunity, but like you said, no motive—or none we know of.”

  “We’re no closer to finding suspects. Detective Clemmons still has Melanie Haven on his suspect list,” Katie said.

  “If only the coroner didn’t pull a wad of her taffy out of Gilbert’s throat.” Lucy finished her custard and tossed a napkin in the trash can. She hated to think of Melanie as a murderer. She couldn’t picture it. But she also couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Melanie was hiding something.