by Tina Kashian
The truth. She couldn’t fathom why the woman hadn’t called her lawyer.
Bill sighed and let out a puff of air. “All right. Come on. She’s in the holding cell.” He walked around the desk and held the door for her to enter a corridor that led to the interior of the station. Lucy’s gaze immediately sought out one of the closed office doors at the end of the room, which belonged to Detective Calvin Clemmons. She prayed he wasn’t inside his office.
Just as they walked by, the door opened and Clemmons stepped out of his office and glared down his long nose at her. “Ms. Berberian.”
Lucy cringed. So much for hoping.
“I wish I could say I’m surprised to see you here,” he drawled, “but I’m not. I just got off the phone with Prosecutor Walsh.”
Lucy kept her expression bland. “Oh? Does she plan on stopping by Kebab Kitchen for lunch?”
“No,” Clemmons said, his voice chilly. “She wasn’t pleased to hear that you were the first one Mrs. Simms called. She told me to remind you that there could be consequences.”
Lucy didn’t like his threatening words or his demeanor. She straightened her spine, and her legal training kicked in. “Holly Simms is permitted to place a phone call, and she has a right to legal representation.”
“Are you her counsel, then?”
“I’ll let you know.” She turned to Bill. “Now if you’ll please escort me to Mrs. Simms’s cell, I’d like to speak with her.”
Clemmons’s dark eyes flashed, but he didn’t say a word. Lucy followed Bill down the hall and around the corner.
“Remind me not to cross you,” Bill said.
Lucy’s shoulders slumped. “It isn’t like that. There’s just something about that man that infuriates me.”
Bill chuckled. “You’re not the only one, but for all his brass I think Clemmons means well.”
Bill stopped by a closed door, removed a key ring that was clipped to his waist, unlocked the door, and held it open for Lucy. She stepped inside. The room was a dingy white and in need of a new paint job. A fingerprinting station was in the corner. A duct tape line was glued on a cracked linoleum floor indicating where suspects were to stand to have their mug shots taken. At the end of the room were a set of sliding, outer jail doors. Lucy approached and peeked inside to see four individual cells. Three were empty.
Holly sat on a cot in the last cell.
Ocean Crest was a small town, and prisoners were booked, fingerprinted, and temporarily held here until they could be transported to the larger county jail and held until further legal proceedings. Holly would spend a day here, maybe two days at most, before she would be shipped off to the county jail.
Choosing another key from the ring, Bill slid the jail doors open. “Wait here.”
Minutes later, Holly sat at a desk, her hands cuffed to a thick metal ring in the center of the desk. Lucy pulled out a chair and sat across from her.
“Just shout out when you’re done,” Bill said. He shut the door behind him, and seconds later, the sound of the outer bars slamming closed echoed throughout the room and made Lucy jump.
“Thank you for coming,” Holly said.
Dressed in an orange jumpsuit two sizes too big for her frame, Holly looked far from her glamorous self. Her mascara was smudged beneath her eyes and her lipstick was smeared and faded. Holly had been arrested not long ago, and it was evident by her full face of makeup that she’d been headed somewhere when Clemmons had pulled her over in front of Michael’s bicycle shop and arrested her.
“Hello, Holly,” Lucy said. “I’m still unsure why you wasted your one phone call by reaching out to me. You need to contact a criminal defense attorney.”
Holly rubbed her eyes and the handcuffs rattled on the desk. Her wedding ring was missing, and Lucy knew the police had taken and bagged all her valuables.
“My lawyer already knows. I was talking to him on my cell phone about my trust fund when that crass detective pulled me over and read me my rights. My attorney is on his way from New York City.”
“Good to know. But that doesn’t explain my presence here.”
“Like I said over the phone, you know this case better than anyone. Don’t you want to clear your boyfriend’s name?”
“Azad Zakarian’s not my boyfriend. He’s my head chef.”
“Right,” Holly said in a tone that suggested she didn’t believe a word Lucy said. “Anyway, you’ve been asking questions about Henry’s death, and you are smarter than that detective.”
Lucy couldn’t argue with that.
“The police believe you killed your husband,” Lucy said. “You knew he was having an affair with the much younger Cressida Connolly. I also suspect Henry tricked you into signing a change of beneficiary form to make Cressida the beneficiary of his life insurance, and you were shocked when you finally learned the truth. And worst of all, Cressida had convinced Henry to finally leave you. So, you see, all the evidence points to you as the killer.”
“All the evidence is wrong.” Holly glared at her, a fierce light glowing in her eyes.
It was Lucy’s turn to arch a skeptical brow.
“I admit to being upset and humiliated when I learned about his affair with that girl. But I didn’t learn about the change of beneficiary until after Henry died and I tried to collect the money. You’re also right that Henry handled all our taxes and important paperwork and for years I blindly signed any documents he thrust beneath my nose. But you’re wrong about one thing: Henry was not going to leave me.”
Holly had been insistent about this from the beginning, but how could she be sure?
“Maybe you were clueless about the life insurance,” Lucy conceded. “But as to whether or not Henry was going to leave you is your word against Cressida’s. A jury may still find that you had sufficient motive and opportunity to get rid of your husband.”
“What opportunity? Henry was killed outside Castle of the Sea, and I never left the building.”
“I know you were with Michael Citteroni during most of the reception except—”
Holly’s green gaze sharpened. “He’s handsome, isn’t he? Surely, you’ve noticed. You do have a thing for tall, dark, and handsome men.”
Lucy ignored the barb. “As I was saying, Michael can vouch for your whereabouts except for a half hour when you supposedly went to the ladies’ room near the end of the evening. A half hour in which you have no alibi during the precise time that your husband was murdered. You could have snuck outside to break into the catering van, lured your husband inside, and stabbed him.”
“Impossible!” Holly’s eyes flashed with outrage. “I was in the ladies’ room, and I have two witnesses who will testify to that fact. I have an alibi for the entire evening.”
“Who?”
“Edna and Edith Gray.”
Lucy was taken aback. “The owners of Gray’s Novelty Shop on the boardwalk?”
“Yes. Go ask them for yourself. The sisters were going at it fighting over the addition of hermit crabs to sell in their shop. Edith said the crabs stink, and Edna said that kids love them and they will attract tourists. I’ve known the sisters for years and mediated their argument. Talk to them and see. I never left the building that night. I couldn’t have killed my husband.”
* * *
Lucy had jogged the Ocean Crest boardwalk and passed Gray’s Novelty Shop more times than she could count. T-shirts with various logos such as “Call Me on My Shell,” “Salty Hair & Sandy Toes,” and “Ocean Crest Beach Patrol” hung on racks beside shelves crammed with beach pails and sand shovels, towels, and boogie boards. The only difference was that today a large glass tank sat in the front of the shop. Lucy peered inside the tank to see a dozen hermit crabs, their shells painted different colors and designs.
Edna had clearly won the argument over the crabs.
Edna and Edith Gray were never-married sisters in their seventies and fixtures in town. Edna was tall and rail thin with a pointed nose, while Edith was short and heavyset w
ith a nose that resembled a ripe tomato. Lucy had saved her teenage allowance and purchased her first boogie board in their shop, and she’d spent countless hours catching waves in the surf.
Edith’s smile beamed and she stopped rearranging bottles of sunscreen on a shelf as soon as she spotted Lucy. “Well, if it isn’t Lucy Berberian. We ate lunch at Kebab Kitchen a couple weeks back. The tabbouleh salad was tasty. How are your parents, dear?”
“Hello, Edith. Mom and Dad are semiretired now.”
“Only partly?” Edna asked from where she was counting change behind the register. She removed her reading glasses and they dangled from a chain around her neck.
Lucy shrugged, smiling. “They are having trouble letting go completely.”
“I can sympathize. When you put years into a business, it’s hard to just walk away. It’s like putting someone out to pasture,” Edna said.
Lucy had never thought of it that way. It explained why her dad kept showing up in the office and finishing payroll or meddling with inventory in the storage room, and why her mother kept returning to the kitchen at the crack of dawn. “I guess I see your point.”
Edith made a face at her sister. “Well, Angela and Raffi are lucky they have you to take over the place. Nothing like family. We weren’t fortunate enough to have children. When we retire, we will have to sell the place.” Edith placed the bottle of sunscreen she’d been holding on the shelf and approached. “Now, what can we help you with, my dear?”
“I remember seeing you both at Scarlet and Bradford’s wedding. I want to ask you a few questions about that night,” Lucy said.
Edna clucked her tongue. “It was a tragedy. We were both invited because Bradford wanted to film a scene outside our shop. But we were also longtime friends of Mr. And Mrs. Simms. We took out a second loan about ten years ago to expand our store, and Henry’s bank gave us the business loan. We wouldn’t be as successful without his help. We were shocked to learn of his death.”
Edith clucked her tongue. “Poor Holly,” she said.
The sisters didn’t know Holly had been recently arrested for the murder of her husband, and Lucy didn’t enlighten them. “Holly said she talked to both of you in the ladies’ room near the end of the reception. Something about a fight over hermit crabs?”
Edna’s face grew red. Edith’s lips thinned.
“It’s true,” Edna spoke up. “I wanted hermit crabs. She didn’t.”
“One or two crabs don’t smell, but two dozen or so in one tank do. The smell makes me sick,” Edith said. “I know it sounds ridiculous since we own a store on the boardwalk a stone’s throw from the beach, but it’s true.”
“I couldn’t help but notice the tank of hermit crabs at the front of the store as I came inside,” Lucy said.
“We compromised,” Edna said. “I can order them for the store, but only if I put the tank as far away from the register as possible and clean it regularly. Meanwhile”—she glared at her sister—“we’ve been selling them like hotcakes.”
“Harumph.” Edith set her chin in a stubborn line. “If you subtract the upkeep from the profit, I still think they aren’t worth the hassle.”
“They bring in additional business. Kids and their parents have to walk through the store to pay for the crabs and they almost always buy something else,” Edna argued.
“Like I said, the smell turns my stomach,” Edith said. “But they’re bearable at the very front of the store, and she’s willing to be the one to clean the tank and handle them in order to make a sale.”
Goodness. The sisters still sounded like they needed mediation. The last thing Lucy wanted was to get involved in their bickering. “Did Holly Simms stay with both of you in the ladies’ room until you sorted your problem out, then return to the party?”
“That’s right. We couldn’t have come to an amicable solution without her,” said Edith.
“That was about a half hour?” Lucy asked.
Both sisters nodded.
“And you saw Holly walk back to the reception?”
“I remember because the band announced they would only play a few more songs and started the conga when we followed Holly out of the ladies’ room,” said Edna.
“We also saw her chase down Mr. Citteroni’s handsome son to dance.” Edith winked. “He’s too young for Holly, but he would be perfect for you, Lucy.”
Oh, brother. Her mother’s matchmaking efforts were enough to last her lifetime. She didn’t need the advice of two more old ladies.
“That’s all right,” Lucy said politely as her mind processed what she’d learned from the sisters.
Holly had told the truth. The Gray sisters, along with Michael, provided a solid alibi for Holly Simms. She couldn’t have killed her husband. Once Lucy conveyed what she’d learned to Clemmons, he’d have no choice but to release Holly.
“Thank you for answering my questions.” Lucy wandered to the front of the shop to eye the hermit crab tank. “I’d like to buy two crabs.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Edna said.
“Oh, but I do! My niece, Niari, would love them.” If Emma didn’t approve, then her sister would have to cope. As far as Lucy was concerned, Emma’s past had caused more problems with Calvin Clemmons than any crime scene evidence. A pair of tiny hermit crabs was a small price to pay for all the hassle.
Lucy thought about everything she’d learned as Edna fished out two hermit crabs and placed them in a small plastic tank that would house the crabs. Holly’s alibi had checked out. But the big question still remained unanswered: who had murdered Henry Simms?
Out of the remaining suspects, one had the strongest motive.
Specifically, a million bucks to kill her lover.
Cressida.
CHAPTER 22
The following day, Kebab Kitchen was opened to a crowd of hungry lunch tourists and regulars.
“Where’s all the hummus?” Emma cried. “The hummus bar is nearly empty and I have customers waiting!”
Lucy rushed out of the kitchen, carrying a tray that held bins. “Here are three varieties,” she said. “Lemon pucker, extra garlic, and basil pesto.”
Emma made a face. “I need fire-roasted red pepper, artichoke, and two more bins of traditional hummus. It’s the most popular.”
“Butch is working on it as we speak. They will be right out.”
Emma grabbed the tray from Lucy. “I’ll refill these. You tell Butch to hurry up.”
The rest of the lunch menu was traditional Mediterranean food featuring lamajoon or Armenian pizza—a thin, flat bread with ground meat and spices—a vegetarian bake with eggplant, onions, and mushrooms, and Greek souvlaki. For the seafood lovers, there was fresh flounder delivered by fishers who fished during the season. Flaky baklava and walnut cookies were on the dessert menu.
Lucy ran around manning the register, chatting with customers, helping Emma and Sally pack up leftovers and take-out orders, and overseeing the staff. For a few hectic hours, she’d forgotten about the murder. Then lunch had dwindled down to a dull roar just before three—the recovery period before dinner service.
She spotted Azad heading into the walk-in refrigerator and hurried to catch up with him. He was placing a tray of freshly made baklava on a wire shelf as she stepped inside. The large restaurant refrigerator might be chilly, but it was the one place they were guaranteed privacy in the busy kitchen.
As the door swung closed behind her, a memory rushed back of the two of them locked in the cold place together three months ago. For safety reasons, the walk-in refrigerator didn’t have a lock on the outside, but nonetheless, they’d found themselves trapped inside. When the door had finally been opened, Lucy had learned that foul play had been involved. But for that time period, Lucy and Azad had shared body heat to stay warm and he’d almost kissed her, just like he’d come close to kissing her in the storage room the other night.
Her heart hammered foolishly in her chest. Would they ever get the chance again? And if they did
kiss, would it harm their working relationship?
“You all right, Lucy?” Azad asked as he slid the tray on the shelf, then straightened to look at her quizzically.
Lucy was suddenly nervous. “I was thinking about last night,” she blurted out.
His eyes darkened with emotion, and she realized she’d made a blunder. He was clearly thinking of how they’d been interrupted by Michael. Her face heated.
“I thought about it all last night,” he said.
“You did?”
Azad folded his arms across his chest. “I never much liked that bike shop guy, and I like him even less now.”
“Oh.” How was she supposed to respond to that? A part of her wanted to avoid talking about Michael; another part of her was flattered that Azad was jealous.
His eyes were a lighter shade of brown beneath the florescent lights. “I’d like a rain check. I’d also still like to take you to dinner.”
“I’d like that.”
“Great. I need to prep for tonight’s service. Is there something else you needed?” he asked.
He didn’t know about the latest turn of events regarding Holly. Azad thought she remained incarcerated and that he was in the clear. What was the best way to break the bad news? Just spit it out, she thought.
“Holly Simms didn’t murder her husband.”
“Pardon?”
“Her alibi checked out. Detective Clemmons had no choice but to release her. I’m sorry.”
His expression clouded and she could just imagine what he was thinking. With Holly in the clear, would Detective Clemmons focus on Azad once again?
“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “I wouldn’t want an innocent woman to take the fall. The detective has to keep investigating.”
She hoped he would. “I haven’t given up yet, either.”
His expression was intense. “I never thought you would. If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you are determined and you never give up when you set your mind to do something.”
“It’s a Berberian family trait. I’m stubborn and mulish. Just like my mom and dad.”