One Feta in the Grave

by Tina Kashian

  “You have info?”

  “I do.”

  She drew her lips in thoughtfully. He wasn’t being very forthright, but could she blame him? “I know you can’t talk in-depth right now, but can you tell me anything?”

  “Your pictures and note arrived this morning. Let’s just say, it caused a ruckus.”

  “That exciting?”

  “Exciting enough for Clemmons to jump out of his seat and spill his coffee all over himself,” Bill said, a glint of humor in his eyes.

  Good. She wanted Clemmons to take the pictures seriously. As for the spilled coffee, well, Lucy couldn’t help but grin along with Bill.

  “What about both burglaries, including ours?” she whispered.

  “We’re no closer to finding the first burglar, but Clemmons has a theory. He believes the same person was responsible for the second break-in of the store.”

  “He does?”

  “He thinks the criminal was after something specific. After his first failed attempt at prying open the security gates, Clemmons’s theory is that the same person returned to break in the back door.”

  “And the pictures?” she whispered.

  “So far, Clemmons doesn’t believe the pictures are related to either burglary and that your anonymous envelope is unrelated.”

  This was good news. “Who does Clemmons think sent the pictures?” Lucy asked.

  “Someone who hates Ben Hawkins and will do anything to ruin his credibility and prevent him from becoming mayor. According to Clemmons, what better way to do that than to send the pictures to the police?”

  “Easy. The ‘burglar’ could have sent them to Stan Slade.” Lucy knew firsthand how the town newspaper reporter loved juicy gossip and didn’t always fully investigate the facts before reporting stories that were splashed across the front page of the Town News.

  “True. But Archie’s handwritten notes on the back of the pictures sealed the deal. Now there’s evidence and motive,” Bill said.

  “You mean motive for Ben to want to shoot Archie?”

  “Exactly. Ben will be brought in for questioning. His ladybird, Vanessa, too. If Ben is arrested, the pictures will come out eventually.”

  “So Detective Clemmons doesn’t think it was Ben who first broke into the shop?” Lucy asked.

  “Not as of right now.”

  She supposed it made sense from Detective Clemmons’s point of view. Why would Ben send scandalous pictures of his affair with a stripper to the police?

  Lucy, who knew the full truth, was convinced Ben had tried to break into the shop the first time to find the blackmail pictures, but he was interrupted before he could begin his search. Who knew if Ben would have found the pictures even if he had time? They were well hidden in the bottom of the file cabinet. Lucy thought it was dumb luck that she’d found them.

  “What about the gun that Neil fired to chase away the burglar? The locals have been buzzing about the break-in and the gunfire. Was it the same gun that was used to kill Archie?” Lucy asked.

  If it was, then Neil would be in big, big trouble.

  “The weapon was sent to the State Police lab. Forensics is analyzing it as we speak.”

  Just then, one of the office doors opened and voices sounded from inside.

  “Just remember that we demand justice!” a gravelly female voice said.

  “We are looking into all angles. Meanwhile, don’t leave town anytime soon, Ms. Smithfield,” Detective Clemmons said.

  Neil stepped out of the office, followed by a woman of average height with green eyes and poker-straight blond hair that fell to her waist. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, about the same age as Neil. Lucy thought the woman was attractive, but the unpleasant voice did not match her pretty face.

  Trepidation traveled down Lucy’s spine as she stared. The woman’s voice was unmistakable. She’d heard it before. Seconds before a gunshot had whizzed by her head.

  “How dare you accuse us! We are the victims,” Ms. Smithfield said, pointing to herself. “The weapon was legally registered, and we used it to protect ourselves from an intruder. We want it back.”

  “As I explained, you’ll get it after the forensics team has analyzed it,” Clemmons said.

  The woman huffed. “Come along, Neil.” She turned on her heel and headed for the exit. Her gaze met Lucy’s as she strode by, and for a pulse-pounding moment, Lucy feared she’d recognized her, but then she turned away and kept walking. Neil trailed behind like an obedient dog.

  “Who was that?” Lucy asked Bill.

  “Sharon Smithfield, Neil’s girlfriend. Her father owns Smithfield’s Surf Shop in Bayville.”

  She’d heard of the surf shop. Bayville was only a few towns north of Ocean Crest, and Smithfield’s Surf Shop was well-known for selling high-end surfboards and a large selection of pricey beach attire. Lucy also remembered seeing Neil’s fancy surfboard when she’d talked with him on the beach.

  Jose had told Lucy that he’d overheard Neil arguing with a woman with a distinct gravelly voice. Neil must owe Sharon Smithfield money for his surfboard.

  Neil remained a suspect in his uncle’s murder, and if forensics showed the gun was used to kill Archie, then he was most likely a killer.

  Meanwhile, Ben had just as strong a motive.

  Clemmons spotted Lucy and his narrow face pulled into a deep frown. “Ms. Berberian. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m delivering food. Would you like a piece of baklava?” Lucy asked.

  His eyebrows rose as if he was seriously considering her offer, then lowered. “I’d like a word with you in my office, if you don’t mind.”

  I do mind, she thought. I mind very much.

  But how could she not go? She looked at Bill, and he nodded. “I’ll come in in fifteen,” he murmured.

  She stood and walked into the detective’s office. She’d been summoned here twice before. It was a spacious room with a large desk with a computer and two faux leather chairs. A coatrack stood in the corner, a suit jacket hanging on one of the arms. Clemmons was an avid fisherman, and he’d added another picture of himself holding up big fish behind his desk. He was a fan of taxidermy, and stuffed fish hung on the walls. A bluefish and trout stared down at her with a mixture of sympathy and accusation as if to say: We know what you did.

  Ugh. Lucy took a seat, crossed her legs, and folded her hands in her lap.

  Clemmons glared down his long nose at her. “Funny how we keep meeting like this.”

  Lucy forced herself to meet his eyes. “I don’t know how I can help you.”

  He opened his desk drawer, removed a large manila envelope, and placed it on the desk. She recognized the address label on the file, and her anxiety increased a hundredfold.

  He leveled his gaze at her. “Did you send this to me?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. What is it?”

  He leaned back in his chair. “Evidence.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you?”

  “No. Not really. I can’t see unless you open the envelope,” Lucy said.

  He stayed silent and watched her face for the slightest crack in her demeanor. Her nervousness grew. Was he a human lie detector who could tell she was lying?

  No way. She’d gotten better at this. Years of experience at the Philadelphia law firm had taught her a few things about how to confront an adversary.

  Never let them see you sweat.

  She raised her chin and met his eyes.

  “All right,” he said. “I needed to be sure. This was delivered soon after the burglary at Seaside Gifts.”

  “Which burglary? The first or the second? The town has been all abuzz about both.”

  “The second,” he said. “I received this envelope this morning, three days after the second burglary.”

  “So?”

  “I’m wondering if they are connected,” he said.

  She masked her surprise. This wasn’t what Bill had said.
He’d told her Clemmons didn’t believe the anonymously sent pictures were related to either burglary.

  “Are you saying whatever is inside that envelope was sent from the burglar who broke into Seaside Gifts?” she asked.

  “It’s a possibility.”

  Clemmons was simply fishing for information. She believed what Bill had told her. Lucy also knew Clemmons wouldn’t open the envelope. He couldn’t. He just wanted to see her reaction when he’d pulled the envelope out of his desk drawer, see if she’d break down and admit to sending it to him, and there was no way she was confessing to that.

  “I couldn’t help but overhear the woman with Neil as they left your office,” she said. “It’s a small town and gossip runs like wildfire. People heard the gunshot. It’s all everyone is talking about. Is it the same gun that killed Archie?”

  “I’m asking the questions.”

  “Sorry. It’s just customers are talking at the restaurant and if the murder is solved, then everyone wants the beach festival to resume.”

  His look was grim. “No festival. Not yet, anyway.”

  Disappointment settled in her chest. The beach festival wasn’t resuming anytime soon. Not until Archie’s murderer was behind bars. Only then would the residents and tourists feel safe.

  Her thoughts spun. While she was in his office, she could ask a question of her own. “What about Archie’s wife, Kristin?”

  “What about her?” he asked, his mustache twitching with annoyance.

  “Isn’t the spouse always a suspect?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I confirmed that she was in her New York City office. I spoke with three witnesses who saw her at work on the day of the shooting. She wasn’t in town when her husband was killed.”

  It’s what they’d suspected, but knowing Clemmons had confirmed it made it one step more legitimate in Lucy’s mind.

  “Is there anything else, Detective?”

  “That’s it for now.”

  She stood and pushed back her chair. She couldn’t leave fast enough. She opened the door, stepped outside, and ran smack into Sharon Smithfield.

  “Oh!”

  “Watch where you’re going, lady!” Sharon said, as annoyance crossed her pretty features and turned them into something much less attractive.

  “Sorry. I didn’t see you,” Lucy said.

  “Is there a problem, Ms. Smithfield?” Detective Clemmons stood and walked to the entrance of his office.

  “I forgot my sunglasses.” Sharon strode inside the office and fetched a pair of Ray-Bans that she’d left on the corner of Clemmons’s desk. Then, on her way back out of his office, she met Lucy’s eyes.

  “Have we met before?” the woman asked Lucy.

  Lucy froze, aware of Detective Clemmons right behind her. “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. But I have a familiar face. Lots of people have told me they thought they’d seen me before. Must be the curly hair. Or height. Or whatever.” She was rambling, and she felt her composure cracking.

  Get a grip, Lucy!

  She’d just survived an interrogation by a detective. How could she get so flustered now?

  Bill came to her rescue as he approached, holding one of the take-out containers. “This baklava is amazing. You have to try a piece, Calvin.” He lifted the lid to show two large remaining pieces of the walnut and cinnamon-filled pastry. “I’m afraid I’ve already devoured the shish kebab.” He winked at Lucy. “She knows lamb is my favorite.”

  Sharon glanced at the container in Bill’s hand in disgust, then turned and walked away. Neil was waiting for her at the exit.

  Lucy breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing she wanted was for Sharon to recognize her from the night she’d snuck into Seaside Gifts. “Thanks, Bill. I’m glad you enjoyed the food.” She turned to Clemmons. “How about you, Detective? Would you like to try the baklava?” It was a test of sorts. Did he believe her story? Or did he think she was somehow involved and had sent him the envelope?

  Seconds passed, then Clemmons reached for the box. “I think I will.”

  CHAPTER 22

  After leaving the police station, Lucy changed into running gear and headed for the boardwalk. She needed to clear her mind and think. It was her afternoon off and Angela and Raffi were managing the afternoon lunch shift. Azad and Butch were in the kitchen, and Sally and Emma were waitressing.

  She motored down Ocean Avenue and ran up the ramp that led to the boardwalk. It was a beautiful, August afternoon at the Jersey shore. Humidity was down (unusual!) and a breeze blew wisps of hair that escaped from her ponytail. She breathed in the fresh ocean air.

  Picking up her pace, she ran the length of the boardwalk, down the stairs, and then on the beach. Her running shoes picked up sand and it sprayed the back of her calves. She glanced at her watch, happy to see that she’d made the distance faster than last time. It had taken weeks, but her endurance had improved.

  Sunbathers lay on beach towels and sat beneath colorful umbrellas. Children splashed in the surf. A Windsurfer with a brightly-colored, rainbow sail coasted across the water. A single-engine, propeller airplane pulled a banner advertising the early-bird dinner at the Crab House, the seafood restaurant just outside of town that had catered the funeral, across the sky.

  She made it to her favorite lookout—the jetty. Here, the spectacular Atlantic Ocean was spread out before her. The isolation, combined with the vastness of the sea, helped keep her problems in perspective.

  She sipped from her water bottle as the ocean breeze cooled her heated skin. Her thoughts turned to Archie’s murder. He’d certainly had his fair share of enemies in town and the list of suspects was growing.

  The first suspect that came to mind was Ben Hawkins. Ben had political aspirations, and the pictures Lucy had found were enough to dash any hopes for his would-be career as mayor. Archie’s blackmail scheme would have ensured that Ben stay in his back pocket and help influence the Ocean Crest zoning board to approve any future businesses Archie had in mind. Ben certainly had motive and opportunity. Had Ben killed him in order to silence his blackmailer? Or had Vanessa done the dirty deed for her lover?

  Then there was Archie’s girlfriend, Rita Sides. Rita certainly had motive to want her boyfriend dead. Archie had lied to her about his marital status and had added insult to injury when he’d purchased Rita an engagement ring with a fake diamond. Rita admitted she’d found out about his wife, Kristin, and was angry and hurt, but she adamantly claimed that she didn’t kill him. Was she lying?

  Harold Harper, Archie’s business neighbor on the boardwalk, was also on her list. The two men had hated each other and had been fierce rivals. Archie’s cutthroat pricing tactics to put his rival out of business could have pitched Harold over the edge. Harold had gone so far as to say whoever had killed Archie had done the town a favor. Harold had also been beneath the bandstand when the winner of the sand sculpture competition was announced. He had opportunity and motive. But did he go so far as to shoot Archie in cold blood?

  And then there was Neil. Archie’s nephew had a lot to gain from his uncle’s death. He received Seaside Gifts, the lucrative shop. It was more than Neil had earned in his lifetime so far. Plus, Neil had big dreams of competing with professional surfers. If he’d borrowed money from his girlfriend, Sharon, to buy an expensive surfboard, he needed the cash to pay her back. He’d certainly had opportunity. Lucy had spotted him at the back of the bandstand with Archie that day. His aspirations to leave the tiny town of Ocean Crest and head to Hawaii to surf with the pros, combined with his debt to Sharon, were enough motive to shoot his uncle.

  Last, there was Archie’s wife, Kristin . She didn’t seem like a loving wife or a grieving one at the funeral, but Lucy knew appearances could be deceiving. Had she learned of her husband’s affair with Rita? Had she seen red and killed him? It wouldn’t be the first case of a wife disposing of her husband, except Kristin had a rock-solid alibi. She’d never been to Ocean Crest
before the funeral. She couldn’t have killed him.

  So who had pulled the trigger?

  Frustration roiled in her gut. She was missing something, but what? Lucy stood and brushed the sand off her shorts. She had come here hoping for answers, but her time on the jetty had only resulted in more questions.

  She carefully picked her way off the jetty and was about to run back when she spotted Kristin on the beach. Dressed in a yellow bikini and wearing a large white sun hat with a black band, the widow was sitting in a beach chair and reading a glossy fashion magazine.

  Lucy was surprised the woman was still in Ocean Crest and hadn’t fled back to New York City. Never one to miss an opportunity, Lucy jogged over to the woman.

  “Hello, Mrs. Kincaid,” Lucy said as she stopped by Kristin’s beach chair.

  Kristin lowered the magazine and peered at Lucy above the rim of her large sunglasses. “Oh, hello. I remember you from the funeral.”

  “I’m Lucy Berberian. I was with my friend Katie Watson when we met you at the funeral.”

  “A sad day.”

  “Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Kristin’s lower lip quivered. “I still think Archie is going to call me. I haven’t erased his voice mail messages on my cell phone. I listen to them at night.”

  Was the woman going to cry? Lucy didn’t know if she was sincere or acting. “The beach is a good place to think of loved ones and to relax. Will you be staying in Ocean Crest for a while?”

  “I’m sifting through Archie’s belongings. It’s a tedious task. Everything reminds me of him.” Kristin reached into her beach bag, pulled out a tissue, and began dabbing the corner of her eyes.

  “Is Neil helping you go through Archie’s belongings?”

  Kristin scoffed and dropped the tissue. “Hardly. Neil spends all his free time on the beach and has unrealistic dreams of becoming a pro surfer. I give Seaside Gifts six months before it closes because of his incompetence.”

  Wow. Harsh words from the widow. Lucy also couldn’t help but notice that Kristin’s tears had quickly stopped flowing.

  “Aren’t you Neil’s aunt?” Lucy asked.

  “In marriage only. Neil was Archie’s brother’s son. After Ralph died, Archie took Neil under his wing. I was against it. Neil had a drug and alcohol problem.”