Chicken Pesto Murder: Book 5 in The Darling Deli Series (6 page)

“I’ll get started right away,” he said. “I’m glad you liked the quiche.” He disappeared back into the kitchen. Moira grabbed a sticky note, wrote
Free Samples
on it, and stuck it on the platter with the quiches. She looked around the little deli, feeling proud. It had been about two years since she had opened it, and she had come so far in such a short span of time. Her one-woman operation was now a popular shop with three employees besides herself. If the extended hours went as well as she hoped, then she would have extra money that she could use to expand even further, and maybe start serving more warm food or even possibly open a second store in a nearby town.

There were only two things currently dampening her spirits. The first was Detective Fitzgerald’s untimely death and the fact that David was a suspect in the murder. And the second was the thought of those poor missing dogs and their frantic owners. She hoped that both cases would be resolved quickly, and despite the private investigator’s insistence that she not get involved, she planned on helping in any way that she could.

The quiches turned out to be quite a success, with the platter completely emptied long before they closed the deli for the evening. She was glad that the little bite-sized snack had been popular, both because it meant that she would have something to feed her customers when they began stopping by for breakfast, and because it gave Dante a much-needed confidence boost. It looked like her expansion plans would work out well.

After saying goodbye to her employee, Moira sat in her car in the parking lot for a moment, going over the grocery list on her cell phone. There was nothing on it that she needed for the shop, but they were definitely running low on some of the basics at the house. She sighed, setting the phone down on the passenger seat and starting the engine. She might as well buy groceries now; she wouldn’t be any more eager to go shopping in the morning.

As she was walking down the aisles at the grocery store, she kept her eyes peeled—as always—for ingredients that might make for tasty new soup or sandwich recipes. To her surprise, she found a familiar face instead of new ingredients; Detective Jefferson had just turned down the same aisle that she was in. He waved to her, and she nodded back as they passed. She paused, biting her lip and trying to make up her mind, then turned her cart around and followed him. He raised his eyebrows as she approached, but paused to wait for her.

“Sorry,” she said. “I won’t keep you long. It’s just… you don’t really think that David did it, do you?”

“I thought you might ask something like that,” he said with a sigh. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were alone in the aisle. “Between you and me,” he said quietly, “I don’t.”

“Then why did you have to bring him in? He’s done so much for people in both Maple Creek and Lake Marion,” she said. “And I know from experience what it feels like to be wrongly accused of something. It doesn’t feel good.”

“I may not think he did it,” the detective said. “But I still have to do my job. A good investigator wouldn’t ignore evidence that’s right in front of his face just because it points to a guy that they think is innocent. That’s not how the police work.” He paused. “It’s not what Detective Fitzgerald would have wanted.”

“You’re right.” She frowned. “I’m sorry. I know you’re just doing your job. I just wish that David didn’t have to be the one to suffer for it.”

“I agree that this whole situation is unfair. Listen, Ms. Darling, the evidence pointing to him is pretty heavy. We found his wallet at the crime scene, the two had just had a pretty bad argument, and David showed up late to the retirement party, favoring an arm.” He met her gaze. “Like I said, I don’t think that it was him, but until the evidence says otherwise, I’m going to have to keep viewing him as a suspect.”

“Well, would it help if I told you that he noticed the missing wallet driving home after we had dinner at the Redwood Grill?”

The detective looked at her sternly. “
Did
he, or are you just saying he did?”

“Of course he did,” she said with some heat. “I wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

Detective Jefferson sighed and rubbed his face. “I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t. It’s been a hard week.”

“I hope you catch the guy who really did it,” she told him. “And I’m sorry about Fitzgerald. I didn’t know him that well, but from what I could tell, he was good at his job and really cared about the town.”

“He did,” the detective said. “And thanks. I’ll miss him. He was a good man.”

By the time she got home, all she wanted to do was to put the groceries away and go to bed. It had been a long day, and a lot had happened. When Candice greeted her at the door, she started to tell her daughter about everything that had happened, but the young woman interrupted.

“Mom, you’ve got to see this,” she said, grabbing Moira’s arm and half leading, half dragging her to the living room where their old desktop computer was set up.

“What is it?” the deli owner asked, truly exhausted and not prepared to deal with anything else.

“Just read,” her daughter said impatiently.

Moira sighed and sat in the seat, squinting at what was on the screen. It was an article from the Maple Creek news website. The headline read
Private Investigator Questioned About Detective’s Murder.
She was surprised to see a shot of David under the headline. The picture showed him walking from his office in Lake Marion to his car, and it was obvious that he wasn’t aware of the photographer. She perused the rest of the article quickly. It said pretty much what she expected; that David had been brought in for questioning about Detective Fitzgerald’s murder, and that he had been seen arguing with the detective in a public area a few days beforehand. There wasn’t any mention either of the wallet or David’s late arrival to the party, which was a relief. Whoever the source was for the article, they didn’t seem to know as much about this case as they had when they were reporting about Moira’s supposed involvement with Henry Devou’s death a few months ago.

“I’m really starting to dislike our local news,” she said, turning off the computer screen and rising out of the chair.

“I know you like him, Mom.” Candice hesitated, not meeting her mother’s gaze. “But… do you think that he could have done it?”

“Of course not,” Moira said quickly. “He would never do something like that.”

“You haven’t even known him for six months,” her daughter pointed out. “For all you know, he could be like a serial killer or something.” The young woman saw the look on her mother’s face and backpedaled quickly. “Okay, so he probably isn’t. But you have to admit, there is a possibility that he isn’t who you think he is.”

Is Candice right?
Moira wondered. They really hadn’t known David for more than a few months. The private investigator had never been anything but kind and helpful to her, but she knew from experience that even a cold-hearted killer could be polite. And the truth was, there was even more evidence pointing towards David than her daughter knew. His wallet
had
been found in Fitzgerald’s house, and although there was a good explanation for that, she clearly remembered him showing up late and injured to the detective’s retirement party. He had said that he’d had a biking accident, and she hadn’t questioned it, but now she couldn’t help but wonder. What if his injuries had actually been from attacking and murdering the older detective?

She shook her head to clear it. What was she thinking? This was David; she might not have known him for long, but she
did
know him well, and he would never kill anyone. She must be more tired than she thought if she was actually considering him as a suspect.

“I just don’t think that he could have done it,” she told Candice. Covering up a yawn with one hand, she asked, “Could you help me bring in the groceries? I’m exhausted. We can talk more tomorrow.”

For the next few days, life went as usual in the quiet town of Maple Creek. The warm spring weather and sunny days returned, and business at the deli was booming. Moira was glad that the icy days of winter were past; spring wasn’t her favorite season—she preferred summer—but it was a close second. There was something wonderful about walking through the park with warm, fresh-smelling air, and watching the first green buds beginning to appear on the trees. Soon enough, it would be swimming season, and she and Candice could travel the half hour to Lake Michigan on weekends. She loved spending the day at the beach, even if the water was usually chilly well into summer. If they had time, they might even be able to take a trip to the warmer shores on the other side of the state. Lake Huron was a favorite vacation spot for their family, and it was always nice to travel.

* * *

It was a slow Wednesday afternoon at the deli when Candice came in with excitement all over her face. Moira looked up from her novel and immediately knew that her daughter must have good news of one kind or another.

“What happened, sweetheart?” she asked.

“I found an apartment,” her daughter exclaimed. “It’s perfect, and right in town. It overlooks Main Street in Lake Marion. Will you come see it with me when I go to put the security deposit down?”

“Of course.” Moira smiled at the beaming young woman, feeling guilty for her suddenly complex feelings. This was it; her daughter was really going to move out, and soon. “When were you going to go?”

“Right now. Can you come?”

“I don’t know… it’s right in the middle of the day…”

“Mom, you’re sitting at the register reading a book. I saw both Darrin and Dante’s cars out there; couldn’t one of them watch the store for just, like, an hour?” Her daughter’s eager expression made Moira laugh.

“Okay, okay, I’ll let them know I’m leaving,” she said. “Hold on just a second.”

She followed her daughter into Lake Marion, taking the time to admire the forest that lined the curving, winding road. The scenery really was beautiful, with ferns and other small plants just beginning to peek through the ground. Almost all of the snow was gone by now, though she spotted a few stubborn piles hidden in areas where direct sunlight rarely, if ever, reached.

Her daughter parked behind the building that housed the small toy store that would, with any luck, one day become Candice’s candy shop. Moira locked her car, and then followed the young woman over to a door set into the side of the building.

“It’s up here,” her daughter said. “That way, if I do end up being able to lease the toy store, or buy it if they decide to sell, I’ll be right above my shop. Even if I end up renting a different space for the candy store, I’ll still be living in a nice, central area.”

“I’m eager to see it,” Moira said. “Your first place. It’s so exciting.” She shared a smile with her daughter, then followed the young woman up the narrow stair case. There were only two doors at the top, and her daughter opened the one on the right.

Moira had been expecting a small, cramped area, so she was surprised when she walked into a room that had high ceilings, gorgeous hardwood floors, and shiny new appliances. Even though it was a small apartment, the spacious ceilings and generous windows made it feel much larger than it was. The kitchen had granite counter tops and a huge sink, with a stainless steel fridge that put even the deli’s refrigerator to shame.

The dining room and living room were open plan, and the living room area opened out onto a small balcony overlooking Main Street. The single bedroom was small, but not tiny, about the size of Candice’s bedroom at Moira’s house. She was envious of the shower in the bathroom; it was large, with a bench seat and a beautiful slate floor.

“Wow, this place is amazing,” she told her daughter. “How did you find it?”

“Adrian heard about it from a friend and told me,” she said.

Are you two back together?” Moira knew that Candice was lucky in a lot of ways, but not when it came to men. She didn’t know much about the breakup with Adrian, only that he hadn’t been coming around the deli as much over the past few weeks.

“No, but we’re still friends. He’s still planning on helping me with the candy shop,” her daughter said. “Isn’t this place just perfect, though? And it’s a pretty good price, too. What do you think, should I put the deposit down?”

“If you like this apartment, then go for it,” the deli owner said. “Just be completely sure that you want to open your business in Lake Marion. It wouldn’t be good if you had already put the deposit down on this place, and then decide you want to open the candy shop in Traverse City.”

“I’m sure,” the young woman replied. “This is the perfect town for my candy shop. Besides, Traverse City is too far from you and the deli. I would never move there.” Moira hugged her daughter; it was good to know that Candice felt the same way about moving out.

Since she was already in town, after leaving Candice with the real estate agent at her soon-to-be new apartment, Moira decided to call David and see if he was free to get a cup of coffee. He answered almost immediately when she called, and they agreed to meet up at the small coffee shop on the corner of Main and Pine Streets.

Moira got there first and ordered a caramel cappuccino, then seated herself at a small table in the back. She realized that the first time she had ever met David had been at a coffee shop. It seemed like so long ago, but in reality had been far less than a year.

“So, Candice found an apartment?” David asked as he slid into the seat across from her, a mocha in hand.

“She did, and I’m surprised by how nice it is.” She spent a few minutes describing the little apartment to him. The thought of Candice living in the same town as the private investigator comforted her. She knew that if Candice ever needed help, she would be able to call David.

“I’m going to miss her,” she finished. “But I’m glad that she’s beginning to live her own life. I really hope that this candy shop venture works out for her.”

“If she’s got anything like your mind for business, I’m sure it will.” He smiled at her, and Moira noticed for the first time how tired he looked.