Hummus and Homicide Page 2

  Lucy’s stomach bottomed out at the mention of the man her parents had so desperately wanted her to marry. He was one of the main reasons she’d left to take the job in the Philadelphia law firm. It had taken months, years, to dull the heartache. Her throat seemed to close up as she felt the all-too-familiar pressure from her parents’ unreasonable expectations—that the ultimate fate of the restaurant rested upon her shoulders and that she had to be the one to keep everything together. Lucy reached for the water glass and took a big swallow.

  “Dad, stop,” Emma said. “No sense nagging Lucy. Max has a buyer.”

  “Who?”

  “Anthony Citteroni.”

  Lucy sat upright at the name. “The bike man next door to the restaurant?”

  Every summer, Mr. Citteroni’s bike shop rented a variety of bicycles to tourists. Ever since she was a kid, she’d heard stories that he had mob connections in Atlantic City, and his many businesses were how he laundered money.

  “He wants the property,” Raffi explained.

  “Why?” Lucy couldn’t fathom what Mr. Citteroni would do with it.

  “He wants to open a high class Italian restaurant, but he’s not the only interested buyer,” Raffi said.

  “A local woman wants to convert Kebab Kitchen into a diner,” Emma said.

  “Another Jersey diner? The state is loaded with them. And Ocean Crest already has the Pancake Palace,” Lucy said.

  “Don’t forget that Azad’s interested,” Angela announced.

  There it was again. His name.

  “Why would he want it?” Lucy asked.

  “Azad graduated from culinary school and is working as a sous chef for a fancy Atlantic City restaurant. He wants to buy Kebab Kitchen and keep it the way it is.”

  Of course, he did. He was perfect. Hand-picked by her parents. He’d started working as a dishwasher for the restaurant when he was in high school. He’d soon worked his way up to busboy, then line cook, and had earned her parents’ respect. Not to mention their hopes of a union with their younger daughter. The pressure tightened in Lucy’s chest.

  She glared at her parents. “What will you do if you retire? Where will you go?”

  “We’ll stay in Ocean Crest. It’s a peaceful place,” Angela said.

  Raffi waved his hand toward the window and a view of the calm ocean and blue sky. “After all, what bad things happen here?”

  CHAPTER 2

  Lucy lowered the visor to shield her eyes from the late morning sun as she drove down Ocean Avenue. Scanning the sidewalks, she drove past Magic’s Family Apothecary, Holloway’s Grocery, and Cutie’s Cupcake Bakery. The memory of Susan Cutie’s lemon meringue pie made Lucy’s mouth water. It had been too long since she’d savored one of her homemade, calorie-packed desserts, and Lucy made a mental note to stop by soon.

  She drove two more blocks before reaching her destination. A neon lit sign blinked MAC’S IRISH PUB.

  As soon as she parked, a woman rushed toward the driver side door. “I can’t believe it! My best friend’s staying with us.”

  Lucy laughed and stepped out of the car to hug Katie Watson, her best friend since grade school. Tall and thin with straight blond hair and blue eyes, she was Lucy’s total opposite. The pair also came from different worlds. Lucy was a first generation American, and Katie often joked that her ancestors sailed on the Mayflower. She was raised on meat, potatoes, and apple pie while Lucy grew up eating stuffed grape leaves and hummus.

  “I got your text to meet at Mac’s. Are you sure you can take the entire morning off from work?” Lucy asked.

  Katie worked at the Ocean Crest town hall as a clerk handling everything from real estate taxes to zoning to renewing dog and cat licenses. “You bet. I know it’s still before noon, but we should celebrate properly.” She opened the pub door and motioned for Lucy to step inside.

  Lucy blinked as her eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight to the dim pub lighting. The smell of beer and fried bar food wafted to her. A long mahogany bar, its surface polished but nicked from years of use, ran the length of one wall. Mac’s was a hometown favorite and boasted a large selection of microbrews and classic beers on tap. Several tables were occupied by locals drinking beer and watching a large television mounted above the bar.

  As Lucy and Katie slid onto a pair of bar stools, a bubble gum chomping barmaid slid cardboard coasters advertising domestic beers before them. “Lucy! What are you doing back home?”

  “Hi Sue. I’m here for a bit. A long vacation of sorts.”

  “What would you two like?”

  They ordered beers, and Sue filled frosted mugs and placed them on the coasters.

  Katie tucked a stray lock of straight blond hair behind her ear, swiveled on her stool to eye Lucy, and raised her mug. “To the return of my BFF. Since when are you an Eagles fan?” She pointed to the football logo on Lucy’s T-shirt.

  Lucy tapped her glass to Katie’s and they sipped their drinks.

  “Since living in Philly. The cheesesteaks and soft pretzels are also favorites.”

  Katie chuckled. “I’m thrilled you’re home, but I want details. What happened at the firm?”

  Lucy’s thoughts turned back to recent events and she frowned. “I was passed over for partner in favor of a male associate.”

  “That’s the second time in two years, isn’t it?”

  Lucy tried not to flinch. “It’s true. Apparently eight years of working crazy billable hours and toiling over legal briefs isn’t enough to break through the proverbial glass ceiling.”

  “Who’d they pick?”

  “An associate named Stanley Upton.”

  Katie’s brows drew together. “That name sounds familiar.”

  Lucy fidgeted in her seat. “That’s because I mentioned Stanley over the phone once. I was never interested in him, but he kept asking me out for a drink. After the fifth time, I said yes. Little did I know he wasn’t interested in me, but in a potential client I had met at a city fundraiser. Once Stanley learned her name, he wined and dined her. When the firm’s partners learned about Stanley’s new client, they chose to make him partner. If I complained, I’d look like a whiner. So, I quit.”

  “What a jerk!”

  Lucy’s throat tightened as she recalled how betrayed and upset she’d been when the managing partner of Parker and Weinstein had knocked on her office door to tell her that Stanley Upton was being promoted to partner.

  Katie took a sip of her beer. “How are your parents handling your long visit?”

  Lucy ran her fingers down the frosted glass. “They’re happy. But they’re still as stubborn as ever and immediately brought up Azad. They’d be more than thrilled to see him back in my life.”

  Even after all this time her parents still had hopes. She felt like she was a daughter during medieval times when handfasting and arranged marriages were the norm. It was ridiculous, really. When would they leave it be?

  Katie chuckled and the corners of her lips tilted in a smile.

  “My parents want to sell the restaurant,” Lucy said.

  “It’s true, then?”

  She looked at Katie in surprise. “You knew?”

  “I’ve heard rumors at the town hall, but I never gave them much credit. Your restaurant has been around since I was a kid.” She gently squeezed Lucy’s arm. “Coming home was a good decision. You can clear your head and think about what you want for the future.”

  “I didn’t have much choice. I quit, remember?”

  Kate waved a dismissive hand. “It was the right move. After we finish our drinks, we’ll head to my house, and I’ll help you unpack.”

  Lucy cocked her head to the side and studied Katie. “Are you sure Bill is okay with me staying with you?”

  Bill and Katie had married three years after high school just as Bill had become a beat cop in Ocean Crest. He was perfect for Katie since she’d always been obsessed with detective and crime TV shows.

  Katie took a sip of her beer. “Of course. Bill
’s happy if I’m happy.”

  Lucy couldn’t help but feel a stab of envy. She hadn’t had much luck in the boyfriend department. The earlier break up with Azad had blindsided her. Her more recent dating life was dry as burnt toast.

  Before Lucy could express her gratitude for Katie’s hospitality, the front door opened and a couple strolled inside. The man was unremarkable—ordinary-looking with brown hair and eyes, slim build, and average height. His plain attire, khakis, and a white collared shirt, would not have attracted Lucy’s notice except for the woman by his side. Four-inch black stilettos clicked on the hardwood floor as the woman sauntered past in a skintight yellow and black pantsuit with a low neckline, which revealed a good amount of cleavage. Her long, bottle-dyed red hair was brushed back in loose curls that could only be accomplished with lots of Aqua Net and a screaming-hot curling iron. Her fingers clung to the man’s arm like a lifeline, and sunlight from the window glinted off her red painted nails. They took stools at the opposite end of the bar.

  Something about her was familiar.

  Lucy realized she was staring at the red-haired woman when she looked up and caught Lucy’s gaze. She smirked, her lips like a thread of scarlet, and raised a well-plucked eyebrow.

  Lucy’s face grew warm, and she quickly averted her gaze.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t Lucy Berberian.” The woman’s voice carried from across the bar.

  Lucy’s head snapped up. The nasally voice was eerily familiar, and she struggled to place it. The woman eased off her stool, whispered something into the man’s ear, and they walked over to where Katie and Lucy sat.

  She flipped a long lock of hair across her shoulder and looked at Lucy. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

  “Hello, Heather,” Katie said.

  Lucy’s memory sparked like the Fourth of July, and she blinked. “Heather Banks?”

  “You do remember,” Heather said.

  Lucy forced a smile as she stood. Heather Banks had been an egotistical cheerleader in high school. She’d also been one of the most popular girls who wouldn’t give Lucy the time of day. Lucy had attempted to try out for the cheerleading squad, but it soon became clear that she wasn’t welcome by the team’s captain, aka Heather. Lucy had lasted a week. It had been a humiliating experience.

  Looking at Heather, Lucy realized why she hadn’t recognized her. Heather’s hair had been bleached blond in high school, and her currently dyed red hair and expertly applied makeup made her look like an entirely different person. That, and it had been fourteen years ago.

  “What are you doing back in town?” Heather asked. “Last I heard you were a city lawyer. Something to do with inventions and such.”

  “I’m a patent attorney, and I’m visiting for a while. I’m taking a sabbatical,” Lucy said.

  Heather’s gaze swept over Lucy with a smirk, taking in the Eagles shirt, worn jeans, and sneakers. Lucy straightened her shoulders.

  “A sabbatical? How nice for you,” Heather said in a tone that suggested it was anything but. She turned to the man standing beside her and reached for his arm. “This is Paul Evans. He’s a writer. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”

  The Paul Evans? Lucy stared dumbfounded at him. “Are you the suspense writer?”

  “Yes,” Heather answered. “Paul’s latest book, Killer Status, just hit number one on the New York Times best seller list.”

  Paul shifted on his feet and his complexion turned a shade red. He was clearly uncomfortable with Heather’s comments. He extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Lucy couldn’t help but stare as she shook his hand. This unassuming man was the famous best-selling suspense writer? Reading his books had often kept her up late. They’d also scared her into checking her doors and windows to make sure they were closed and locked each night. Paul Evans wrote about serial killers that made your blood run cold—highly intelligent and downright evil. Villains that made Lucy glance behind her when she walked the streets of Philadelphia after a long day at the firm.

  “I’m a fan of your books. You are very good at scaring a lady at night,” Lucy said.

  Paul smiled. “Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Do you live in Ocean Crest?” she asked.

  “I was born here, but I moved away with my mother to Chicago when I was very young. I’ve been back for about six months,” he said.

  “We met at one of his book signings.” Heather patted his arm, her long red nails catching a glimmer of neon from a flashing beer sign hanging above the bar.

  Paul looked from Lucy to Katie, then back to Heather. “How do all of you know each other?”

  “We graduated from high school together,” Heather said.

  “You were friends, then?” Paul asked.

  Heather wrinkled her nose as if she smelled a bad odor. “We didn’t hang out together. Lucy’s parents are foreigners who own that Mediterranean restaurant.”

  Katie laughed outright at Heather’s blatant insult. Paul had the good grace to look uncomfortable.

  Lucy gritted her teeth. “My parents aren’t foreigners, Heather. They’ve been US citizens since before I was born.”

  “Well, they still own that restaurant and speak different languages.”

  Lucy’s voice rose an octave. “You mean Kebab Kitchen? Yes, they still own it and continue to employ town residents and pay taxes.” Lucy folded her arms across her chest, braced her feet apart, and faced the other woman.

  The tension between them grew. She was aware of several of the locals sitting at tables nearby looking up from their beers to stare at the two of them. Gossip spread like wildfire in town, and they were giving everyone present plenty to talk about.

  Damn.

  She hadn’t even been back more than a few hours.

  Lucy wasn’t the only one to notice.

  Paul tugged on Heather’s arm. “Our food has arrived. Perhaps we should go back to our seats,” he suggested.

  Heather shot Lucy a scathing look. “I expect I’ll see you and your parents soon.” She turned and allowed Paul to steer her back to their barstools.

  Katie slapped money on the bar and ushered Lucy outside.

  As soon as the door shut behind them, Lucy whirled to face her. “I don’t believe it. It’s like I never left high school. I couldn’t stand Heather Banks then and it doesn’t look like time has given me any reason to improve my opinion.”

  “She’s always been obnoxious,” Katie said. “She’s also a fixture in town. I just laugh at her antics and then ignore her. Besides you can’t blow your nose without someone announcing it in the paper. You don’t want to give people something to talk about, do you?”

  Lucy halted and clenched her fists at her side. She had worried about the same thing, but her temper had been quick to flare after Heather’s comments about her family. A shiny, candy apple red Lexus with a license plate that read BANKS1 caught her eye.

  Ugh. Even Heather’s car was flashy.

  “I wish I could ignore her,” Lucy muttered. “What did she mean when she said she’d see me and my parents soon?”

  Katie kept walking. “Your brother-in-law has to apply for a health inspection for the restaurant before he can list it on the real estate market.”

  Lucy frowned, not sure what that information had to do with Heather. “I remember her father was the town health inspector.”

  “Mr. Banks recently retired. Heather took over the position.”

  Lucy’s breath caught in her lungs. “You’re kidding? Me and my big mouth. I didn’t mean to pick a fight with her. Doesn’t anyone aspire to leave this small town?”

  “Hey, watch it!”

  Lucy raised a hand. “No offense. I shouldn’t talk. I’m already scheduled to waitress for today’s lunch shift.”

  Katie laughed. “That didn’t take long, did it? Tell me if you want a job at the town hall. We could use a good file clerk in the tax office.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “I just may take
you up on that offer.”

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, Lucy arrived at the restaurant a half hour before her scheduled lunch shift to find her mother busy in the kitchen. A container of chick peas soaking in water sat beside a food processor on a wood worktable.

  “You’re just in time,” Angela said. “I’m preparing traditional hummus. You can help.”

  Lucy eyed the worktable with unease. Cooking had never been one of her talents. She’d disliked spending time in the kitchen, and her past attempts to create meals had never resulted in success. She’d once invited two fellow female associates to her apartment and tried to cook an “easy” lasagna dish using no-boil lasagna noodles. It ended up dry and nonedible, and they’d quickly ordered Chinese takeout.

  Her mother must have read the anxiety on her face. “Don’t worry. You won’t even have to preheat the oven.”

  Lucy let out a held-in breath. “Okay. Tell me what to do.”

  Her mother handed her a glass jar of tahini. “Stir this well, then give me a cup.”

  Lucy knew tahini was a paste made from ground sesame seeds and a key ingredient in hummus and many Mediterranean dishes. The oil tended to separate on top and had to be thoroughly mixed with the ground sesame seeds.

  She could handle this task. She reached for a long spoon and began mixing. “A whole cup?” Lucy asked.

  Angela waved a dismissive hand. “About. I never measure.”

  Lucy frowned. Some things never changed. Her mother rarely measured ingredients when she cooked. How on earth could Lucy hope to learn without a recipe?

  Angela strained the softened chick peas and poured them into the food processor. Fresh garlic, lemon, salt, and extra virgin olive oil followed, none of them precisely measured. Lucy, on the other hand, measured a full cup of tahini and added it into the machine.

  “Now go ahead and blend everything,” her mom instructed.

  Lucy snapped the lip on the food processor, then hit the button.

  Nothing.