On the Lamb Page 10

  “That candy seller is your friend. Word on the street is she’s the number one suspect,” Eloisa said.

  “Melanie didn’t do it.”

  “The police have me on their list, too.”

  “What? Why?” Lucy asked.

  “I told that detective I walked home on the beach the night Gilbert was killed. If that cop has any brains, he has to consider me.”

  Lucy understood that Detective Clemmons was doing his job. In the past, she may not have agreed with him, but she understood why he was keeping both Melanie and Eloisa on the suspect list. She didn’t have to like it or agree, but she understood.

  On the other hand, she would also think Clemmons would quickly eliminate Eloisa as a suspect. There was no way she could have killed her own nephew, even if he was a jerk.

  “Has Detective Clemmons asked you to come to the station to answer more questions?” Lucy asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “If he does, will you promise to tell me?”

  “Why?”

  “So I can find you a lawyer,” Lucy explained.

  “You’re a lawyer. You do it.”

  If she had a dime for every time someone asked her that, she’d already be rich. “I’m a patent attorney. I’ve never practiced criminal law. They’re very different. It would be like going to a podiatrist for brain surgery.”

  Eloisa lowered her mug. “I already have a foot doctor who shaves my corns. Come to think of it, Doctor Ted is single. Not as good-looking as your dark-haired chef, but if things go south between you two in the kitchen, bagging a doctor is never a bad idea.”

  Lucy gaped at her. “Mrs. Lubinski! I’m not talking about dating your podiatrist. I’m talking about the police dragging you into the station and interrogating you. Now, promise me you’ll tell me.”

  Eloisa waved a hand. “All right. Don’t get your panties in a knot. I promise.” She picked up her mug and slurped her tea. “Now, if you’re sticking your nose in the murder, who do you think did the foul deed?”

  Eloisa’s pointed gaze made Lucy squirm. “I wanted to ask you about Sophia, Gilbert’s wife.”

  “That rat trap? She is a money-grubbing lady. If there was anyone greedier than Gilbert, it was Sophia. Those two deserved each other.”

  Harsh words, but Lucy suspected they were true. She didn’t know Sophia Lubinski, but if Eloisa thought she was greedy, Lucy didn’t doubt it.

  “You think Sophia killed Gilbert?” Lucy asked.

  “I’m not saying that, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she did. Those two were like cats and dogs going through their divorce. She hired an aggressive divorce attorney and told Gilbert she was taking him to the cleaners. He said she wouldn’t get a dime from him. Thank God they didn’t have kids.”

  Hatred was a strong motive, but if Sophia wanted to take him to the cleaners and get as much cash out of the marriage as she could, what else was she after? “My friend Katie said there wasn’t a life insurance policy.”

  “Gilbert let it lapse. She was angry as a hornet about that, too. But the woman should finally be satisfied. She gets Gilbert’s share of some ritzy condominiums he owned in Bayville.”

  So, there wasn’t a prenuptial agreement. Lucky Sophia! The divorce hadn’t been finalized, and as Gilbert’s wife, Sophia would be his legal heir. Real estate prices at the Jersey shore had risen over the past decade. Max was always spewing out figures whenever he visited the restaurant. Lucy suspected the Seagull Condos were worth a tidy sum.

  At Lucy’s silence, Eloisa nudged her arm. “You think Sophia killed Gilbert?”

  “I’m not saying that, but I’d like to talk to her,” Lucy said. “Do you happen to know her schedule?”

  “She’s a yoga fanatic. Rises early every Sunday morning and goes to the Yoga Palace.”

  Perfect. Tomorrow was Sunday, and she knew how to get to the place. Lucy drove by the Yoga Palace on her way to Holloway’s, the town’s family-owned grocery store. She’d never been inside the yoga studio, but it was an opportunity to observe Sophia and, hopefully, ask her a few questions.

  She jogged the boardwalk and considered herself fit. How hard could yoga be?

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I’m going to die.” From the doorway, Lucy gasped as she watched the instructor as she led the class into its fifth downward facing dog.

  Katie chuckled, but the sound held little mirth. “I’ve never liked yoga.”

  They had arrived at the Yoga Palace at five forty-five in the morning. The attendant must have stepped away from the front desk, and Lucy and Katie had wandered inside and stuck their head inside a doorway to observe a class.

  “I’m surprised you don’t like yoga,” Lucy said. “You were always athletic in high school.”

  “Athletic, yes. But flexible?” Katie shook her head. “Not so much.”

  “Then this will be a challenge for both of us. Whatever the instructor is doing makes them all look like pretzels.”

  A voice from behind them made both Katie and Lucy jump. “Welcome to the Yoga Palace. Is this your first time?”

  Lucy whirled to see an attractive, middle-aged woman with a French braid, wearing a Yoga Palace T-shirt and black tights, standing behind them.

  Lucy cracked a smile. “It is our first time. Our friend, Sophia Lubinski, recommended the Yoga Palace and claims it’s the best on the Jersey shore. She mentioned a free trial.”

  The woman’s face lit up. “How nice! I’ll be sure she gets our referral bonus. Please follow me.”

  They trailed behind her to the front desk. “Do you know if Sophia has arrived this morning?” Lucy asked.

  “Not yet. Do you two have mats or yoga blocks?” the woman asked, a chipper tone to her voice.

  “No,” Katie said. “Do we need them to try a class?”

  “Don’t worry. You can borrow ours. If you decide to join today, you get a ten percent discount, plus a new yoga mat,” the woman said.

  One look at the yoga room and Lucy had decided to stick to jogging on the boardwalk, but Katie was convinced they could glean something from Sophia.

  The five o’clock morning class ended and a stream of women began filing out of the yoga room.

  “Oh, look! Here comes your friend now,” the woman said as she glanced out the front door. “I’ll leave you all to catch up. Excuse me while I make sure everything is set for your class.” She bounced away.

  The front door opened and Sophia entered. Dressed in spandex pants and a tight athletic bra, her bleached-blond hair was styled in a high ponytail and she wore makeup. A purple yoga mat was tucked under her right arm. She headed straight for the yoga room.

  “Time to get flexible,” Katie said.

  Lucy followed Katie into the room and they set up their mats on either side of Sophia. Sophia didn’t appear to notice. She had slipped off her Crocs and begun a series of impressive stretches on her mat. Lucy wouldn’t have been surprised if she split the seam of her tights.

  Lucy slipped off her running shoes and socks and made a pretense of stretching, all the while watching Sophia out of the corner of her eye.

  “Are you Sophia Lubinski?” Lucy asked.

  Sophia froze in a straddle and looked at Lucy. “Yes. Do I know you?”

  “No. But I’m sorry about your loss. We knew Gilbert,” Lucy said.

  Sophia’s gaze shuttered. “Oh. Thanks.”

  Just then, the instructor entered. She was a tall, fit and athletic woman who sat with her legs crossed and addressed the crowd. “Good morning. Let’s start by meditating for a full minute. Shut your eyes and empty your thoughts of worries and troubles and focus on a positive day ahead.”

  They all sat in silence for a minute. Lucy cracked her eyes open and observed Sophia. The woman’s lip gloss glimmered beneath the fluorescent lights.

  “Now we can begin,” the instructor said. “Move into a downward facing dog. Our first position of the day may feel stiff until we warm up.”

  “You must be fearful,�
�� Katie said.

  Facing downward, Sophia turned her head to look at Katie. “Fearful? Of what?”

  “Your husband was murdered. Aren’t you afraid the killer will come after you?” Katie asked.

  Sophia swallowed. “The thought had never entered my mind.”

  “Move smoothly into a plank position,” the instructor called out.

  Lucy held the plank pose. Thirty seconds . . . a minute . . . a minute and a half. Her arms started to shake.

  “Now lower and arch your back in the cobra position.”

  Thank goodness. She needed more abdominal workouts. But her relief didn’t last when the class went through numerous other difficult positions.

  “You think Gilbert’s murderer will kill again?” Sophia asked.

  Clearly, Lucy’s question had been working on Sophia’s mind. “Most serial killers don’t stop with one murder,” Lucy said.

  “Serial killers!” Sophia squeaked.

  People turned to stare at them. “Shh,” the instructor called out. “On your backs for bridge pose.”

  After a full minute, Lucy’s lower back began to scream in protest. How long could they hold this ridiculous pose?

  “Don’t worry. My husband is a police officer,” Katie added. “He says most serial killers are captured by the third murder.”

  Sophia’s face flushed and she began to tremble, but Lucy didn’t think it was from their uncomfortable position.

  The instructor glared at them this time, then shouted a bit too loud, “Warrior pose.”

  Lucy rose and copied the instructor by standing with her feet apart and her arms stretched out to her sides. It was a more comfortable pose. But it wasn’t to last.

  “Now we will test our standing balance with the tree,” the instructor said. “Stand with your feet together and place your right foot on your inner left upper thigh. Press your hands together in prayer and close your eyes and breathe.”

  Lucy could barely lift her foot above her calf without wobbling. Katie was having a harder time. Tall and thin, she had trouble with balance and looked like she would topple over at any second. Sweat beaded on her brow. After several unsuccessful attempts to stand on one foot, she gave up and rested the toes of her right foot on the ground.

  A full hour later and after five more challenging positions, the class was finally over. The instructor placed her palms together and said, “Namaste.”

  Sophia rolled up her mat and glowered at Lucy and Katie. “I don’t remember seeing either of you, and I was familiar with most of Gilbert’s friends and acquaintances. Come to think of it, there was never a mention of a serial killer from the police. Who are you really?”

  Lucy clutched her own rolled-up mat under her arms. “We were on the beach the night your husband was killed.”

  Sophia stood taller. “So? Maybe one of you two did it.”

  “That’s funny, because the police always suspect the spouse,” Katie said.

  Lucy wanted to slap a hand over Katie’s mouth. They wanted Sophia to talk, not clam up in anger.

  “Are you kidding me? In Gilbert’s case, there’s a list a mile long of people who disliked him,” Sophia said. “He wasn’t exactly well-liked.”

  “Do you know of anyone who disliked him enough to murder him?” Lucy asked.

  “There’s an entire building full of people. You should talk to his tenants in the condos he owned just outside of town.”

  “As his wife, don’t you inherit part of those condos now?” Katie asked.

  A murderous look flashed across Sophia’s face. Maybe Lucy was wrong and Katie had it right. Get her mad enough to see what she’d do or say.

  Sophia planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “If you’re looking to pin his murder on me, you’re out of luck. I wasn’t near the beach that night.”

  “Where were you?” Katie asked.

  “Let’s just say I have a fondness for bikers. I was at Mac’s Irish Pub hanging out with the motorcycle riders for the festival. A dozen people saw me. Just ask Mac MacCabe himself.” Sophia tossed her ponytail, then sashayed out of the studio.

  * * *

  Once outside the Yoga Palace, Lucy collapsed in the passenger seat of Katie’s Jeep and sipped her water bottle. She’d be sore for a week, but it had been worth every second.

  “Did you see how angry Sophia became when I mentioned she’d inherit the condos?” Katie asked.

  “How could I miss it? I had to force myself not to back up a step and drag you with me just in case she lashed out,” Lucy said. “She has to have muscles from that yoga class. She’s strong enough to clock her husband with a piece of driftwood and knock him out. Suffocating him afterward would have been easy. It all fits, except for her alibi.”

  Katie tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “You believe Sophia’s story about being at Mac’s Irish Pub the night her husband was killed?”

  Lucy rested her water bottle on her knee. “I don’t believe a word out of her mouth, but I can double-check her alibi. Azad wants to take me to Mac’s Pub one night. I can ask around to see if people remember seeing her at the pub the night of the bonfire.”

  “Good for you. I want the juicy details of your date night with Azad, too.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes. She was looking forward to her date, but she wasn’t prepared to talk to Katie about everything when it came to her relationship with Azad. She may have known Azad most of her life, but every moment between them was now too new. “We’re taking it slow, remember?”

  “Whatever. That’s the same line Bill gave me back in high school.”

  “Everybody’s hormones were raging back in high school,” Lucy argued.

  Katie and Bill were the only couple she knew who were still together from high school. Katie had been obsessed with crime-fighting shows even back then, and when Bill had announced he was going to the police academy instead of college, Katie had been crazy for him.

  Katie shot her a sly look. “And your hormones aren’t still in full swing?”

  She had a point. Why else would she catch herself sneaking glimpses of Azad’s chest when he reached up for an item on the storage room shelf or his biceps when he chopped vegetables with record speed in the kitchen? He looked good, plain and simple. “I’m a bit older and wiser now,” Lucy said in her defense.

  “Fine. I’ll give you that. But I still want details afterward.”

  “Whatever. Let’s not talk about my relationship with Azad, but what we learned about Sophia.”

  Katie rubbed her chin with a thumb and forefinger . “You’re right. I say it doesn’t matter if Sophia does get Gilbert’s share of the Seagull Condos. If Sophia’s alibi checks out, we’re at another dead end.”

  “I’m not ready to throw in the towel. Sophia did give us a bit of a lead when she told us to talk to Gilbert’s tenants. They may give us some clues. But meanwhile, tomorrow is the motorcycle festival’s ride down Ocean Avenue. I’m riding with Michael.”

  Katie almost dropped her keys. “You are? What about Azad?”

  “He knows. I told him. Azad understands that Michael and I are just friends. Besides, Pumpkin and Craig will be there, too.”

  “You plan on asking them questions?” Katie asked.

  “I suppose I have a double motive for riding with Michael.”

  “You are sly, girl. Let me know what you find out.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lucy sifted through time sheets on the desk in the restaurant’s office. She’d risen extra early on Monday to get through paperwork and payroll so that the rest of her morning would be free. No one else was in the restaurant and it was quiet. Kebab Kitchen didn’t open until lunchtime, but there was always paperwork to handle behind the scenes. Running a restaurant wasn’t always glamorous.

  She pushed back her chair and banged her elbow on the corner of the filing cabinet. It was a ridiculously small office, but they needed every square inch of the storage room for the restaurant’s supplies. A desk, a filing
cabinet, and shelves just about fit in the office. The desk was littered with papers and the shelves were full of samples that suppliers often gave to her father to try out new products. Her mother had always been picky about the menu, and her father had ended up donating most of the canned goods and boxed products to the local food pantry.

  Now that Angela was semiretired, Azad was the one to go through the samples. He turned out to be just as selective, and it would be Lucy’s job to gather everything and drive to the food pantry.

  But she wouldn’t make that trip today.

  A familiar thrum pounded in her veins. She’d be doing something else this morning. Something infinitely more exciting than payroll.

  She left the office door just as a low knock sounded on the storage room door. Reaching for the doorknob, she found Michael standing outside. His dark hair brushed the collar of his leather jacket and his blue eyes were ringed with dark lashes.

  “It’s a beautiful day for a ride.” He leaned casually against the doorframe.

  “It is,” she said. The weather could swing either way at the Jersey shore in April. Rainy and cloudy or sunny and warm. Today, not a rain cloud dotted the blue sky.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  Lucy scanned the asphalt. “Where’s your motorcycle?”

  “At the bike shop. We’re meeting Pumpkin and Craig there, too.”

  She’d dressed for riding with a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. She followed Michael outside, locked the door, then walked with him across the restaurant’s parking lot to the fence that separated Kebab Kitchen from Citteroni’s bicycle rental shop. They strolled along the fence to the sidewalk, then stepped onto Michael’s property.

  His Harley-Davidson was parked in the driveway. The garage door was open, and Lucy spotted rental bicycles, tricycles, and four- and six-person surreys parked inside. Michael’s father, Anthony Citteroni, owned the bicycle rental shop and Michael managed the business.

  Anthony was a famous fixture in town and owned many businesses, including Laundromats, trash services, and the bicycle rental shop. He was a bit shady, and if the rumors were true, he used these businesses to launder money from his other—not so legal—Atlantic City activities. Lucy had met Anthony on several occasions, but no matter how often she encountered Michael’s father, the man still sent a nervous chill down her spine.