by Tina Kashian
Katie’s blue eyes grew wide. “Hide? Where?”
Lucy scanned the rows of tables until her gaze landed on the last one. “Over here. Quick!” She pulled Katie with her and they scrambled beneath the table. At the last second, Lucy moved two potted urns of ferns in front of them to conceal their hiding place.
The door to the greenhouse opened and footsteps scraped the concrete floor.
“I’ve missed you so much, baby,” Pumpkin said.
“Me too,” Sophia purred. “I could barely wait for us to be together.”
Through a crack between the ferns, Lucy spied the couple. Sophia’s long, blond hair was loose and cascaded down her back in a way that would make most women envious. Pumpkin held her around her waist with one arm; then, with an impatient sweep of his free hand, he pushed aside the table’s contents, picked Sophia up, and placed her on the edge of the table. Heated kissing ensued.
“I can’t believe it! That woman works every angle,” Katie whispered.
Lucy was just as surprised. First Sophia made a deal with Craig, and all along she was sleeping with Pumpkin. “She does get around.”
It was looking more and more as if Sophia Lubinski had murdered her husband.
She wanted cash for Gilbert’s half of the Seagull Condos.
She wanted to end her contested divorce proceedings and go to New York and get a modeling contract.
She wanted her lover, Pumpkin.
Two questions remained: were Craig or Pumpkin involved, too?
“Oh, no. My leg is falling asleep and my nose is itching from all these flowering plants.” Katie sniffled, then rubbed her nose. “Are we going to have to witness their entire amorous encounter?”
The thought made Lucy’s stomach tilt. “I hope not.”
A moan sounded, followed by a groan. Lucy wanted to shut out what she was seeing and hearing. She wanted out of this greenhouse and fast. But how?
Lucy’s head started to ache. The humidity, along with the cramped position, made her feel light-headed. Katie looked even worse. Her nose was red and running, her eyes puffy. If she sneezed, all would be lost.
“My foot is numb. I have to move,” Katie said.
“Wait. Don’t!”
Too late. Katie shifted, and her shoulder bumped the table and upended a potted plant. To Lucy’s horror, the plant teetered on the edge of the table. She tried to reach out and steady it, but the large urns she’d moved to hide their position slowed her down. Gravity won, and the pot smashed to the ground in a mess of broken pottery and dirt.
Oh no!
Lucy’s stomach dropped into her shoes. She whirled to Katie, who had a panicked look in her eyes. She mouthed the word Sorry.
“What was that?” Sophia asked.
“Stay here. I’ll check.”
Fear knotted inside Lucy as the scrape of boots imminently approached. It was only a matter of time before they would be discovered. Rather than wait for the inevitable, she pushed the urns aside and crawled out from under the table. Katie followed.
“It’s just us,” Lucy said.
Pumpkin stopped short, his eyes sharp and assessing as he saw them. “Lucy!” His gaze flew to Katie. “Katie?”
“What are you two doing here?” Sophia said as she approached, her pretty face screwed into a scowl.
“We came to talk to Pumpkin, but when we saw you two get out of the truck . . . well . . . we didn’t want to intrude.” Lucy wasn’t sure how Pumpkin or Sophia would respond, but it was the truth.
Pumpkin’s hard features softened and he looked to Sophia. “We know this looks bad.”
“It does,” Katie said. She sneezed and then stomped her foot to get feeling to return to it after their cramped position. “It looks really bad if you ask me.”
Leave it to Katie to be forthright. For someone who never wanted to sneak into places, her accusatory nature came out when they were cornered. The problem was, they could be facing stone-cold killers.
Sophia clasped Pumpkin’s hand and her blue eyes filled with tears. “I know what you’re thinking, but we didn’t do it. We didn’t kill Gilbert.”
Lucy was surprised at Sophia’s unexpected show of emotion. Was she for real or putting on a fabulous show? “We aren’t the police, but they are going to want to know about your relationship.”
Whatever type of relationship they were involved in. Sex? Or was there an emotional attachment and commitment?
“It’s none of their business,” Pumpkin said.
Katie’s mouth dipped into a frown. “Are you kidding? The victim’s wife is having an affair with a person of interest, who also happened to be at the bonfire. My husband is a cop and he’d want to know.”
Lucy was torn between carefully watching Pumpkin for his response and slapping a hand over Katie’s mouth. They could be killers!
What they needed to do was escape and fast, then worry about telling Bill. She eyed Pumpkin’s muscles and broad shoulders. He could easily overpower two women, and the man had a temper. The last thing they needed was to provoke him.
Lucy didn’t want to mention that she’d learned about Sophia selling her share of the condos to Craig. That just might set the woman off . . . or worse, Pumpkin.
Sophia calmed Pumpkin with a hand on his arm. “We didn’t do it. I know what it looks like. I was the cheating spouse, and along with Pumpkin, my lover, we killed my husband. But that didn’t happen.”
“Sophia wasn’t even at the bonfire. She has an alibi for that night,” Pumpkin said.
Lucy spoke up then. “Your so-called alibi isn’t as solid as you’d like us to believe. There’s a half-hour window of unaccountability. It’s enough time for you to leave the pub and make it to the beach.” So much for not prodding a guilty couple.
“How do you know about that?” Sophia asked.
Katie gave her a pointed stare. “It doesn’t matter how Lucy knows, only that she does.”
“You’re right,” Sophia conceded. “I stepped outside the back door of Mac’s Pub that night so I could sit in my car and call Pumpkin. It’s the only time I had all day to talk with him. I didn’t kill Gilbert.”
It was a good excuse, but certainly not a solid alibi if Pumpkin was involved in the murder. They could have scheduled a phone call as Sophia made her way to the bonfire in case the police looked into her phone records. “If not you, then who?” Lucy asked.
Sophia and Pumpkin exchanged a look that led Lucy to believe they were debating whether to share something with them. A moment later, they must have agreed, because Sophia nodded.
“Gilbert wasn’t just a landlord. He had another side business—a small but profitable one.”
“Okay.” Although Sophia was vague, Lucy suspected she knew what the woman was referring to. “Do you mean his moneylending activities?”
“You know about that, too?” Pumpkin asked, clearly surprised.
“We’ve heard. Gilbert loaned money to town residents who didn’t qualify for bank loans. I wasn’t sure you knew,” Lucy said.
Sophia’s fingers twisted her skirt. “I recently learned about it by eavesdropping on Gilbert’s phone calls. I thought he was having an affair and I could somehow use infidelity against him in the divorce proceedings. It turned out he had a side business, which was worse. He’d been hiding money from me and didn’t report the extra income to my divorce lawyer,” she said, bitterness lacing her tone.
Sophia didn’t sound as if she’d be bothered by her husband’s possible infidelity. But hiding cash took Gilbert’s betrayal to a much higher level. In Sophia’s mind, it was more motive to want to kill her husband than cheating.
“Gilbert wasn’t very nice about how he handled the loans. From what I’ve heard, there are other people who had reason to want my husband dead. One such person was at the bonfire,” Sophia said.
“You mean Melanie Haven?” Lucy’s tone was harsher than she would have liked.
Sophia’s eyes were no longer tearing when she met Lucy’s gaze. “H
er taffy was found in his throat.”
Lucy was growing tired of people bringing up that fact. “It doesn’t mean Melanie killed him.”
“Well, we didn’t either,” Pumpkin said.
“If you think others had motive, why didn’t you tell the police about Gilbert’s moneylending practices?” Lucy asked.
“I don’t have proof. I heard him mention that he required signed loan papers from one of his borrowers over the phone, but I never found any record of them. I searched everywhere, but no luck. Gilbert was a slippery bastard,” Sophia said.
Lucy recalled Azad mentioning that he’d signed loan documents when he’d borrowed from Gilbert, and he hadn’t received the papers back until he’d made his last payment. “Again, you could have mentioned this to the police and they could have issued search warrants.”
Sophia moistened her lips. “I don’t trust the police.”
“And you trust us? Why?” Lucy asked.
Sophia looked from Katie to Lucy. “You already learned about the gap in time in my alibi and Gilbert’s moneylending. That takes a good amount of sleuthing. And from what I’ve heard, you have a better history of finding out the truth around here. My bet is on you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“That was a close one,” Katie said as they drove on the dirt road leading back to Ocean Avenue.
“For someone who’s afraid of entering businesses uninvited, you certainly have no fear when it comes to confronting possible murderers,” Lucy said.
“You were worried in there?” Katie asked.
“You bet. Sophia’s alibi is a bust. She claims she sat in her car and called Pumpkin, but she could have just as easily met him on the beach to dispose of her unwanted husband. If either of them thought we were a real threat, we could have been in big trouble. Who would think to look for us in a greenhouse off the beaten path? We could probably outrun Sophia, but not Pumpkin.”
Katie’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “You’re right! I guess I lost more than feeling in my leg, but my head. I couldn’t help myself.”
“Thankfully, it worked out okay.” Lucy turned to look at Katie. “Do you believe their claims of innocence?”
Katie hesitated. “It wouldn’t be the first time passion led to murder.”
“What about Sophia’s tears?”
“I’m not sure I buy her performance.”
“Me either. Sophia could be a fabulous actress. I purposely didn’t mention that I overheard her conversation with Craig Smith. She wants the cash from her inherited share of the Seagull Condos to go to New York City and pursue a modeling career.”
“Did she mention Pumpkin when she was talking with Craig?” Katie asked.
“Nope.”
“You think she’d take the cash and leave Pumpkin behind?” Katie asked.
“It sure sounded like Sophia wants a modeling career more than a boyfriend. I wonder if Pumpkin knows about her dealings with Craig or her ambitions?”
“This is turning into a bad love triangle. Everything points back to Sophia. She even knew about Gilbert’s moneylending,” Katie said.
“If only she knew where Gilbert kept his papers. We could learn the names of others who owed Gilbert cash,” Lucy said.
“We know one already—Rhonda, Melanie’s sister,” Katie said.
“Rhonda and who else?” Lucy said. “We have to tell Bill what we know so far.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Katie said. “He may not like us getting involved, but it’s not like we planned on hiding in a greenhouse or watching those two make out. Ugh!”
Lucy was about to respond when her cell phone rang. She rummaged through her purse and recognized her father’s cell phone number on her screen.
“Hi, Dad.”
“You made me promise to tell you if the detective came around asking me questions. He did,” Raffi said.
Lucy’s heart pounded in her chest. What on earth did Clemmons think her parents knew? Some hidden secret about Melanie, her family, or Haven Candies?
Clemmons might be doing his job, but it felt like he was harassing her parents. She also needed a way to convey the information she’d learned with Katie about Sophia and Craig—and Sophia and Pumpkin. But how?
Lucy bit her bottom lip. Katie said she’d tell Bill, but Lucy didn’t want Bill to suffer any consequences from their investigation either. The one common denominator in all this mess was Sophia.
But how could she tell Clemmons without getting in trouble?
“I didn’t tell him anything your mother hadn’t already,” Raffi said.
Lucy still didn’t like the fact that Clemmons was sniffing around her family. He was also offtrack in finding the real killer. “Thanks for calling me, Dad. I have one more errand to run, then I’ll see you at the restaurant.” She ended the call and shoved the phone back into her purse.
“I take it Clemmons asked your dad about Melanie,” Katie said.
Katie’s Jeep pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot. “Clemmons has it all wrong. Drop me off by my car. It’s time I paid the detective a visit.”
* * *
Lucy pulled into the last visitors’ spot of the Ocean Crest Police Station. A middle-aged police officer with dark, curly hair and a goatee sat behind the reception desk.
“My name is Lucy Berberian and I’m here to see Detective Clemmons.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“No, but he will want to see me.”
The officer eyed her curiously before picking up a phone and speaking quietly to someone. “He does want to see you.” He buzzed her inside. “I’ll show you to the detective’s office.”
Lucy flashed a smile. “Oh, I know where it is.”
The officer shot her a sharp look. “Still, I’ll walk you inside.”
She supposed she shouldn’t have admitted to knowing where Clemmons’s office was located. It made her sound like she’d been in trouble in the past.
If only he knew.
The main room was crowded with desks, most of them occupied by police officers who were busy typing reports on their computers. Bill Watson’s desk was empty. Lucy suspected he was on patrol.
“Ms. Berberian, how nice of you to visit.” Detective Clemmons appeared and extended his hand. Tall and thin, his straw-colored hair was parted on the side and his mustache twitched when he shook her hand. He wore a jacket and a wrinkled white shirt, and tie.
She forced a smile. “Is this a bad time?”
“Not at all. It’s a perfect time.”
Lucy turned at the second voice, a female one, to see Prosecutor Marsha Walsh approach from behind a desk. Lucy breathed in a shallow, quick gasp.
Of all the rotten luck!
Prosecutor Walsh looked the same as the last few times Lucy had seen her. The woman was slender and meticulously dressed in a pantsuit and respectable heels. Her short brown hair was styled in a bob—not a hair out of place. But it was her sharp brown eyes that shone with intelligence that put Lucy on edge.
Lucy had wanted to ask Clemmons why he was questioning her parents. She hoped to lead him away from Melanie and in the direction of Sophia without revealing how she’d obtained her knowledge. But things were complicated now. She had to choose her words very carefully.
“Sit with us for a minute, Ms. Berberian,” the prosecutor said.
Did she have a choice? “Okay.”
Clemmons led her not into his office but into a room down the hall. He opened the door and motioned for her to enter. It was a sparsely furnished room, containing only a table, a single chair on one side, and two chairs on the opposite side. It was painted a blinding white, and she blinked beneath bright fluorescent lights. Her anxiety ratcheted a notch. Clearly, this was where the police questioned suspects or persons of interest.
Clemmons motioned for her to sit. The detective and the prosecutor sat across from her.
Lucy shifted in the metal chair. If there ever was a hot seat, this was it.
“
To what do we owe the pleasure?” Clemmons asked.
Lucy swallowed. She struggled to remember her planned speech. “Why are you harassing my parents?” She blurted out the question, then inwardly cringed. That wasn’t how she’d planned to broach the subject.
Clemmons leaned back in his seat. “I visited Kebab Kitchen to ask your mother routine questions. I followed up with your father later.”
“What routine questions? My parents weren’t at the scene of the crime.”
“No. But your parents are long-term residents. I wanted to know what they knew about Haven Candies.”
“You mean about Melanie Haven in particular,” Lucy said.
“Perhaps. Either way, I don’t have to justify police investigation to you, Ms. Berberian.”
Lucy’s fingers curled on her lap beneath the table. “I know you do not have to justify yourself to me. But you’re wrong about Melanie Haven. She is not a killer.”
“How do you know that?” Prosecutor Walsh spoke for the first time since they entered the room.
Lucy met her gaze. “I just know. We’ve been friends for a long time. Melanie Haven is not the type of person who could kill someone in cold blood.”
“Well, if you came here to express your instincts based on your friendship, this is going to be a very short talk. Let us do our jobs,” Clemmons said.
“But you are overlooking other suspects.” Lucy regretted the statement as soon as it left her lips. She needed to watch what she said, but the presence of the two made her feel outnumbered and unsure of herself.
The detective’s eyes narrowed. “What else do you know?”
“What do you mean?”
“No need to play dumb on my behalf, Ms. Berberian. I know you and your sidekick, Katie Watson, can’t help but stick your noses in crime around here,” Walsh said.
Stan Slade had accused her of the same thing. Coming from the prosecutor, it sounded much worse.
“Katie and I are not nosy, and I’m not playing dumb.” Lucy hoped her voice sounded firm. Something about the wily prosecutor always put her on edge. Perhaps it was because she was whip smart and rarely lost a case. Lucy had looked into her professional achievements a while back. She was a shark in the courtroom. As a fellow lawyer, Lucy couldn’t help but admire Walsh, but that didn’t make her feel any more comfortable around her.
