On the Lamb

by Tina Kashian

  “I’ve reminded you before that your actions have consequences. Not just for yourself, but for Mrs. Watson’s husband. You wouldn’t want to unwittingly involve Bill Watson in covering up for you and his wife, would you?”

  Lucy sat up straight. “Excuse me? What exactly are you threatening?”

  “Mr. Watson is in the final stages of being promoted to detective himself. How would it look if his wife and her best friend were found meddling in police matters?” Walsh leaned forward and held Lucy’s gaze. “So, if you know something, it would be best if you tell us.”

  All bravado left Lucy. She struggled to breathe, as if an invisible hand tightened on her throat. How to tell Walsh and Clemmons what she’d learned without getting herself or Katie in trouble and, most importantly, without putting Bill’s promotion in jeopardy?

  The silence lengthened between them, making Lucy even more uncomfortable.

  Surprisingly, it was Clemmons who came to her aid.

  “Relax, Lucy. No one is accusing you of anything at this point. Prosecutor Walsh is simply interested in your knowledge. We have your statement from the bonfire. But we also know that as the manager of Kebab Kitchen, you may hear things from customers that as police we may not learn,” Clemmons said.

  Lucy blinked in surprise. She’d never thought Detective Calvin Clemmons would come to her defense. They’d had a rocky relationship in the past, but things had improved between them. Her mother had welcomed Clemmons to celebratory family gatherings, and Lucy had felt that his grudge had softened against her family. He’d even been amicable around Emma at the restaurant. Angela’s baklava and shish kebab had a certain way of getting to a man’s stomach . . . and heart.

  But Prosecutor Walsh was an entirely different entity.

  “He’s right. We just want to know what you know.” Walsh’s pointed glare seemed to pierce right through Lucy.

  “Fine. I only meant that, other than Melanie Haven, shouldn’t you be looking into other suspects?”

  “Such as?”

  How exactly could she tip them off? She couldn’t confess she’d broken into the blacklight minigolf and eavesdropped on Craig and Sophia as they’d struck a deal. She could start with information that was public knowledge—knowledge any investigator worth his salt should have discovered.

  “Gilbert didn’t get along with a lot of people. I’ve heard he was in a fight outside the Seagull Condominiums in Bayville,” Lucy said. She knew the police already knew that information from Bill.

  “Are you talking about the filed Bayville police report about a disturbance between the victim, Gilbert Lubinski, and his business partner, Craig Smith?” Walsh asked.

  Lucy feigned surprise. “You know about that?”

  Walsh tapped the table. “Believe it or not, we’re not incompetent, Ms. Berberian.”

  “I didn’t suggest you were, but if you know about the police report, why aren’t you looking into Craig?” Lucy asked.

  Clemmons glared. “Who says we’re not?”

  “Because you are interrogating my parents about Melanie Haven.” Lucy took a deep breath and decided to just go for it. It wasn’t as if investigators did not know to suspect a victim’s spouse. “Did you confirm Mrs. Lubinski’s alibi?”

  Walsh arched a perfectly plucked brow. “Which one? Your landlady or the victim’s wife?”

  Lucy sat up straight, all her apprehension leaving her in a swoosh. “You can’t be serious? My elderly landlady could not have killed her nephew.”

  “Why not? One minute you’re accusing us of overlooking suspects and now you’re saying we shouldn’t consider certain ones,” Walsh said.

  Lucy’s frustration grew, but she held her tongue from spitting out a scathing retort.

  She’s baiting you.

  Lucy knew all about this tactic from law school. Don’t let a smart adversary provoke you into saying something you’ll regret later. And Walsh was one smart cookie.

  Keep calm, Lucy. Stay focused on the goal.

  Lucy met the prosecutor’s gaze straight on. “I think we are on the same page, Ms. Walsh. If you want to waste your resources investigating my landlady, that is your call. But we both know I meant Gilbert’s wife, Sophia. Have you looked into her whereabouts that day?”

  Walsh’s lips curled in a smile that did not reach her eyes. “Rest assured, we are doing our jobs. Anything else you want to share? Anything about your friend, Melanie Haven?” Walsh asked.

  An image of Rhonda rose in Lucy’s mind. Rhonda, who’d gotten in over her head with online gambling debts and went to Gilbert for a loan rather than confess all to her husband. When she couldn’t make the payments, she’d gone to Melanie for help. Melanie had done what she could until she’d put herself at risk. Another reason Melanie had wanted Gilbert dead. Lucy dared not mention what she knew. It would point them directly back to Melanie.

  Lucy met the prosecutor’s probing stare. “No.”

  Walsh reached into her leather briefcase and handed Lucy a card embossed with the State of New Jersey logo. “Call me when you change your mind, Ms. Berberian.”

  Not bloody likely.

  Not until she had solid proof of Melanie’s innocence.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sand sprayed the backs of Lucy’s calves as she ran on the beach. The sun was strong this afternoon and sweat beaded on her brow. Recent events had confused matters, and there was one place where she could always sort things out. The beach jetty came into view. Lucy sprinted the remaining distance, then made her way to the end of the jetty. Drinking from her water bottle, she sat and scanned the horizon.

  The Atlantic Ocean stretched out before her in a dazzling display of Mother Nature. Seagulls soared above, and a sailboat with a colorful sail drifted by. A refreshing gust of ocean air cooled her overheated skin.

  Lucy’s thoughts sharpened as she contemplated the puzzle of Gilbert’s murder. There was no lack of suspects, but some had more motive than others.

  The first that came to mind was Gilbert’s wife, Sophia. Despite her claims of innocence—and her tears—she had the strongest motive. She also had opportunity—the half-hour window of time when she’d left the bar. Sophia could have arrived at the beach bonfire and killed a hated husband. Then there was the fact that Sophia inherited half of the lucrative Seagull Condominiums and planned to sell her share to Gilbert’s business partner, Craig. Her affair with Pumpkin added another layer of intrigue.

  That led to another suspect. Craig Smith had motive and opportunity and had been at the bonfire. He also hated his business partner. Craig had previously fought with Gilbert, and a Bayville police report had resulted from the incident. With a bit of sleuthing, Lucy had learned that Craig wanted to buy out Gilbert’s share of the Seagull Condominiums, and Gilbert had planned to sell his share to anyone—but Craig. But Craig had found another way to get his hands on what he wanted by buying the condos from Gilbert’s widow.

  Pumpkin was at the bonfire as well. Lucy had never believed unpaid landscaping bills were reason enough to kill, but then, she’d never imagined he was sleeping with Sophia. And Pumpkin was a hothead. Whether Sophia was manipulating Pumpkin, or Pumpkin had killed Gilbert at her urging, the result was the same. Gilbert was dead.

  Katie’s words returned to her:

  It wouldn’t be the first time passion resulted in murder.

  Rhonda could not be dismissed as a suspect. She was a casualty of Gilbert’s lending practices. Unbeknownst to her husband, she’d borrowed cash to pay off online gambling debts. When she couldn’t make the payments plus the high-interest rates, she’d gone to her sister, Melanie, for help. When Melanie ran out of cash and couldn’t pay her own rent, Gilbert had threatened to go to Rhonda’s husband. Rhonda had been desperate to keep her gambling problem secret from her husband. Had Gilbert’s threat pushed her over the edge and forced her to take matters into her own hands?

  It was all so confusing. Too many people had strong motives and opportunity and were capable of d
oing the foul deed.

  If only all the available evidence didn’t point to Melanie. Everyone had witnessed her fight with Gilbert, and when the police dug into her history with her landlord, they’d found even more evidence against her, including numerous fights over raised rent. The fact that Melanie’s saltwater taffy was used to choke Gilbert only added to the suspicions of her guilt.

  Lucy stood and brushed sand from her legs. She couldn’t help but think that she was missing a key piece of evidence—something she could hand over to Clemmons and Prosecutor Walsh that would point them in the right direction.

  If she could locate and peek into Gilbert’s safe or whatever place he kept his important papers, maybe she would find something important. Something that would exonerate Melanie and point to the real killer. Maybe Eloisa could help. She hadn’t been particularly close with her nephew, but maybe she’d seen or heard something useful from one of her conversations with Gilbert.

  Lucy drained her water bottle. She may not have cracked the case, but she had a plan and she felt better. Her jetty always seemed to help.

  Lucy jogged back to the boardwalk ramp and ran down the boards when she heard a shout, quickly followed by another. Spotting a crowd gathered on the boards, she picked up her pace. As she got closer, she realized the crowd was outside Haven Candies.

  Madame Vega’s blue turban stood above the mass of people. The psychic must have just stepped outside her salon at the noise.

  Lucy went straight to her side. “What’s going on?”

  “The cops just showed up and stormed the candy store,” Madame Vega said.

  “Why?” Lucy craned to look inside. Her height always put her at a disadvantage in crowds and she had to shift from side to side to see between bodies.

  “I saw it in my cards, remember? An evil presence remains in Ocean Crest.”

  Lucy shot a sidelong look at the woman before her attention returned to the crowd.

  Melanie wasn’t evil, but maybe someone else here was.

  Two policemen, including Bill, stepped out of the store and began ushering the crowd aside.

  “Bill!” Lucy shouted as she pushed her way through the gawking throng.

  Bill stopped short in dismay when he saw her. “Lucy, you should go home.”

  “Why? What’s going on inside?”

  His blue eyes met hers and he shook his head. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing I could do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Just then, Detective Clemmons emerged from the candy store escorting Melanie Haven in handcuffs.

  “Melanie!” Lucy cried out.

  Melanie’s pale face was streaked with tears. “They think I killed Gilbert. Lucy, you have to help!”

  Lucy reached for Melanie, but Clemmons pulled her away.

  Lucy followed and spoke fast. “Don’t say anything, Melanie. Do you hear me? Not a word. I’ll call an attorney, Clyde Winters.”

  Clemmons shot Lucy a dark glare. “Get out of our way and stop interfering, Ms. Berberian.”

  Lucy refused to back down. “I’m not interfering, but you have this all wrong, Detective.”

  Clemmons loomed above Lucy, his mouth set in a grim line. “Do I need to have you handcuffed for interfering with an arrest?”

  Bill placed a hand on Lucy’s arm and stopped her from delivering a scathing response. “Not now,” he said in her ear.

  Lucy backed down, allowing Bill to lead her aside. She knew he was right. No sense provoking Clemmons, not when he had her friend arrested. Lucy watched helplessly as Melanie was led down the boardwalk ramp and placed in a police car.

  Her stomach knotted like a tangled fishing line. Time had run out. “She didn’t do it. She didn’t kill Gilbert.”

  Bill sighed and pushed back his officer’s hat. “You may be right, but Prosecutor Walsh wouldn’t have approved the arrest if there wasn’t strong evidence against her. If you ask me, Melanie Haven is in a lot of trouble.”

  * * *

  Lucy had once joked that Clyde Winters was the oldest practicing attorney she knew. That was saying a lot, because Lucy had worked with lawyers of all ages during her eight years at the Philadelphia firm. But Clyde was still sharp, and Lucy had called him to help with Azad in the past. Tall, rail-thin, and bald, he had an abundance of age spots on his neck and hands. He was also quick to smile.

  Lucy met Clyde in the lobby of the police station. “Thanks for coming, Mr. Winters.”

  “It’s Clyde, and I’m happy to do it. Sounds like your friend is in a bit of a bind.”

  “More than a bit. She’s just been arrested for murder.” She’d filled Clyde in on the phone, and his calm manner was reassuring.

  “Let’s go see her, shall we?” Clyde said.

  They were buzzed into the station. Bill greeted them and led them down a long hall and stopped by a closed door. Bill removed a key ring that was clipped to his waist, selected a key, and unlocked the door. Lucy and Clyde stepped inside.

  Lucy had been here once before and hated it even more than the interrogation room she’d been questioned in days ago. It was a barely furnished, dingy white room in need of a fresh coat of paint. A table with a hand-printing station and ink pads sat in the corner. A duct-tape line on the cracked linoleum floor indicated where a prisoner should stand to have their mug shots taken. A pair of sliding, outer jail doors were at the end of the room. A glance inside revealed four cells.

  One was occupied. Melanie, her fingers wrapped around the bars of her cell, looked sickly.

  Lucy knew prisoners were only temporarily held in Ocean Crest’s police station until they were processed, then taken to the larger county jail to await arraignment. Melanie would only spend a couple of days here, then be carted off to the county jail and exposed to all types of hardened criminals.

  Bill selected another key from the ring and slid open the outer jail doors. “Give me a minute to get her settled.”

  Through the bars, they could see Bill lead Melanie to a chair at a metal desk, then lock her handcuffs to a thick, metal ring on the table.

  Bill opened the outer doors, and Lucy and Clyde stepped inside.

  “Is it really necessary to cuff her hands to the table?” Lucy asked Bill.

  Bill avoided eye contact. “Sorry, but it’s standard procedure. Give a shout when you’re done, and I’ll come get you both.” He left and shut the outer doors on his way out. The loud sound of the bars locking into place made Lucy jump, and gooseflesh rise on her arms.

  They pulled out chairs and sat across from Melanie. Lucy took a breath and focused on her incarcerated friend. “This is Clyde Winters, the attorney I spoke with you about.”

  “Hello, Mr. Winters. I’m grateful for your presence, but I don’t know how I’m going to pay for your services.” Melanie spoke calmly, but with no light in her eyes, no smile of greeting.

  Clyde placed a reassuring hand over hers chained to the table. “Don’t worry about that right now, Melanie. We’re here because we believe you didn’t kill Gilbert.”

  Lucy wasn’t as circumspect. Melanie’s arrest was like a ticking bomb in Lucy’s mind. They were running out of time. “Mr. Winters is right, Melanie. But if there’s something you are not telling us, now is the time.”

  “I’ve told you everything. You believe me, don’t you, Lucy?” Pain flickered in Melanie’s eyes.

  Lucy forced aside any feelings of sorrow or sympathy for Melanie’s current incarceration. Instead, she kicked into legal mode. From the first day, Lucy had sensed that Melanie wasn’t being entirely truthful, and that she was withholding information. Now, Melanie was behind bars and handcuffed to a table. That meant the police would stop searching for the real killer.

  They desperately needed a lead, and fast.

  “What about your sister, Rhonda?” Lucy asked.

  Melanie’s expression shuttered. “What about her?”

  “She has an online gambling habit, and instead of telling her husband, she borrowed money from Gilbert. When s
he couldn’t make the payments plus his high interest, she went to you. Because of your good heart, you tried to help your sister.”

  Melanie’s mouth fell open. “How did you—”

  “It doesn’t matter how I know,” Lucy said. “What matters is that I’m right. As a result of you helping out your sister, you put yourself in a bad position and you fell behind on your own rent. Then Gilbert started harassing you. Am I right?”

  Melanie’s lips thinned. “Okay, fine. I helped my sister with her payments and fell a little behind on my own. So what?”

  “You didn’t think to tell me?” Lucy said.

  “I didn’t think it was relevant.”

  “Ms. Berberian is right. It is very relevant. A jury will find this unfavorable for you,” Clyde said. “You should have informed us.”

  “Did you happen to see where Gilbert kept his papers?”

  “What papers?” Melanie asked.

  “Your apartment lease. Or, even more important, Rhonda’s loan paperwork,” Lucy said.

  Melanie shook her head. “No, he never confided in me. Gilbert hand-delivered my lease.”

  Lucy suspected as much. “Is there anything else we should know?” Lucy asked.

  Melanie shook her head. “No.”

  Lucy wanted to believe her. Melanie had everything to lose by withholding information from her attorney.

  “If convicted of Gilbert Lubinski’s murder, you could spend thirty years in state prison,” Clyde said. “But we will do everything in our power to prevent that outcome.”

  The last traces of Melanie’s resistance vanished and she sagged in her seat. Her voice broke miserably, and she lowered her head. Lucy suspected if her hands weren’t handcuffed to the table, she would have sobbed into them.

  “There is one thing. But it looks even worse for me.” A tear trickled down Melanie’s cheek.

  What could look worse?

  Lucy pressed her hands on the table and leaned forward. “This is your last chance to tell us.”