Cold Cut Murder: Book Three in The Darling Deli Series (5 page)

“I’m not saying I think she’s the killer,” David cut in. “But as for why she would have deposited the body here, well… you
are
competition. If she made it look like you had killed him, she would have been getting rid of two birds with one stone.”

“Nonsense. Our restaurants aren’t anything alike. If someone wants a steak, they’ll go to the Redwood Grill. If they want soup or cheese or cold cuts, they’ll come here.” She sighed. “She just met me, for goodness sake. She reserved me a table at the grill. She just doesn’t seem like a killer to me.” David raised his eyebrows, and Moira remembered that her recent track record of reading people was iffy at best.

“I just thought it was a weird coincidence.” Her daughter shrugged. “I’m sure the police will find whoever it is. So, Mom, did you install security cameras?” she asked, changing the subject.

“David installed it for me,” she told her daughter, shooting a grateful smile at the private investigator. “There’s the camera up front, and a motion detector in the back.”

“Which reminds me, I’ve got to show you how to use the app before I go.” He explained the process, and watched in amusement for a moment as she and Candice played around with the new technology, then he let himself out the door and headed towards his car. He had work to do.

As soon as people started getting out of work, the dinner rush began, and Moira and Candice were kept busy right up until close. Just as she was about to turn the deadlock on the front doors, a car pulled into the parking lot. She sighed and pulled back. One more customer wouldn’t hurt, and she always hated to turn away someone who had made a special trip just to get something from the deli.

She was surprised to see Johan Donovan get out of the car, dressed nearly as nicely as he had been on the opening night of his wife’s restaurant. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she glanced around the deli, noting a napkin on the floor, the disorganized array of cheeses that she hadn’t had time to fix, and the smudges on one of the windows of the glass display case left by an unruly child. The Redwood Grill had been so perfect; what would he think of her restaurant?

“Hello,” he said, pausing at the door. “I was just driving by, and thought I would see how you were doing.”

“Very well, thank you,” she said, something about the casual way he leaned against the doorframe putting her on edge. She smelled the faint scent of liquor on him, and realized that he must have just come from the bar. “We were actually just about to close,” she said. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, I just wanted to see your pretty face again.” He leered at her, raising a hand as if to brush her hair aside, but thinking better of it when she stepped away from his touch.

“Do you need me to call you a cab, Mr. Donovan?” she said, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. The man was married—he shouldn’t be acting like this.

“Call me Johan.” He grinned at her. “And no, I’ll be fine. Your concern is touching.”

“I know Denise would be heartbroken if something happened to you,” she said pointedly. “Please be careful on the roads, once you get out of town, they’re pretty bad.” She glanced back, pretending to check the clock. “And if you’re sure you don’t need a cab, I really should be closing. It’s been a long day.”

“Oh, you’re no fun.” He teased, huffing out a sigh. “But if you insist, I’ll go home, to my
wife
, and get out of your hair. Call me if you decide you want to have some fun.” He winked, then turned and weaved his way back to his car.

Relieved, Moira watched as he started the vehicle and exited the parking lot. She firmly turned the deadbolt on the doors, glad that he was out of her hair. Some men were just creeps; she felt bad for Denise, who was stuck with him. The encounter at the restaurant made sense now; it was obvious that the other woman knew at least something of her husband’s disloyalty.

* * *

She was so preoccupied with her thoughts of Johan and Denise that it wasn’t until the two of them got home and settled down at the table that she realized that Candice had been unusually quiet, her attention taken up by the glowing screen of the cell phone in her hand.

“Something going on?” she asked.

“Um, no,” her daughter put her phone down, blushing. “Not really. Sorry; I’ll keep it off while we eat.”

“You know you can talk to me, right, sweetheart?”

“I know,” she stirred her bowl of reheated soup for a second, and then looked up with a shy smile on her face. “I have a boyfriend. I was going to tell you, but you seemed upset about everything that had happened, and it just didn’t seem like the right time.”

“That’s great news. Is he taking you to the dance?”

“Yeah. I thought I might go shopping for a dress tomorrow, once I’m done with the day’s batch of cookies. They shouldn’t take too long; I’ve already got the dough chilling in the fridge.”

“I’m happy for you. If you need help with anything, let me know. I’ll take the last shift at the deli before the dance by myself, so you’ll have time to get ready,” Moira said, beaming at her daughter. “When can I meet him?

“Thanks, Mom.” Candice grinned back. “And I guess I can stop by the deli with him sometime. He wanted to see it anyway.”

“Bring him in for lunch or dinner sometime, on me.”

“I definitely will. I think you’ll like him.” The young woman took a bite of her soup, and then added, “You should get a boyfriend. Or at least go on some dates.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said. Maybe she
should
date. After all, she needed more in her life than just the deli, didn’t she?

The next day was just as busy, but luckily both Darrin and Dante were available to help her out. She hid in the back for the most part, not wanting to hear the gossip or have to watch the strange, morbid fascination with which people examined the table where Jason Platte had been found. When Darrin came back to the kitchen to tell her that someone was asking for her, she only reluctantly agreed to go and speak with the man. She had half been expecting to see Steven, the man who kept asking her to the dance, but instead was surprised to see a good-looking man with lush blonde hair that was just starting to gray around the edges. His pale blue eyes sparkled when he saw her.

“Moira Darling?” he asked with a very slight Russian accent.

“Yes,” she said, somewhat warily. She didn’t see any cameras or microphones, but he could be a reporter. She had had a few of those come around, but had asked them to leave almost immediately.

“I’m Marcus Noskov. I think Martha Washburn told you about me?”

“She did.” Moira shook his hand, using the moment to look at him again with new eyes. So
this
was Martha’s boyfriend’s cousin? He was definitely good looking. So good looking, in fact, that she had to wonder why he would be interested in her.

“I just moved to the next town over, and everyone there is talking about Maple Creek’s Winter Festival,” he said. “If it’s not too late to ask, I’d love to take you to the dance this Sunday. Martha has told me so much about you and what you did to help her and her sister. I was thinking, if you accept my invitation, we might go with them as a sort of double date. We can all go out to dinner first at that new grill.”

“Oh, um…” She hadn’t dated in a long time, and hadn’t gone to the Valentine’s dance in City Hall for even longer. The event was part fundraiser, part tradition. There would be a raffle, music, and some snacks and drinks if this year was anything like the previous ones. It
would
be fun to go, and if she went with Marcus, Martha, and the man that Martha was seeing, it wouldn’t be as serious a date as if she and Marcus were going strictly as a pair.

“That actually sounds really nice,” she said. “I won’t be able to do dinner, since I just told my daughter that I would close here that night, but I would love to accept your invitation to the dance.”

“Great,” he said with a grin that revealed perfectly white teeth. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Sure.” They traded numbers, and chatted a little bit more until customers began to line up behind him. Moira spent the next half hour ringing up orders with a smile on her face. Somehow, the constant questions and conversations about the food critic’s death didn’t seem to bother her quite as much anymore.

Candice stopped in shortly after to refresh their supply of cookies. She had a young man in tow; he looked to be a few years older than her. He wore his red hair pulled back into a ponytail, which Moira might have found worrying if she hadn’t noticed the utter adoration in his eyes as he looked at her daughter.

“Mom, this is Adrian Cook, the guy I was telling you about.” She set down the tray of cookies, and indicated for Adrian to do the same. “He offered to help me with the cookies this morning, and I thought it would be a good chance for you to meet him.”

“Nice to meet you,” Moira said.

“You too, Ms. Darling,” he replied, shaking her hand.

“Thanks for bringing the cookies—we were almost out.” She moved the last few cookies from the old tray to the new one, and then handed the old tray off to Darrin to be washed and dried. She would take it home tonight to use for the cookies tomorrow. “So, how did you two meet?”

“We went to college together and stayed in contact online.” Her daughter turned to smile at her boyfriend. “He’s interested in business too, so we’re going to Lake Marion tomorrow to look around some more and maybe talk to some people about my plans for opening a candy shop.”

“That’s great, I’m glad you have someone to help you with all of that.” She nodded at Adrian. “It was nice to meet you. Like I told Candice, you two are welcome to stop by the deli for lunch or dinner sometime on me.”

“Thanks, we definitely will,” he said. “And it was nice to meet you too.”

“We’ve got to run now, Mom. I still have to buy a dress, and he’s got to get to work.”

Moira bid her goodbye and watched them leave with a smile on her face and a glad heart. Maybe there was something to this whole Valentine’s thing after all.

David pulled into his office later that day, his mind on things other than work, specifically Moira, the deli owner that always attracted trouble through no fault of her own. They had developed a close friendship, but he was beginning to want something more.

They were both single and roughly the same age, so they were naturally drawn together, but was what he felt for her more than just friendship and the knowledge that smart, attractive, single women of the right age weren’t exactly a dime a dozen? And if she felt anything for him, was it just convenience, or did she really like him? David wasn’t a shallow person, and he didn’t want anything more than friendship unless the feelings were real and deep on both sides. Unable to make up his mind about anything, he got out of the car and made his way to the office door. No matter how distracted he was, he still had to work.

He dropped his keys as he was trying to unlock the office door. Sighing, he bent down to pick them up out of the snow when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadowy figure rush around the corner of the building. He just had time to straighten up when something hard smashed into the back of his head. Grunting, his head exploding with pain, he fell to his knees. His assailant stepped into his line of sight, but all he saw was the ski mask covering the person’s face, and the dark shape of a baseball bat rushing towards his face.

Heart pounding, and still dazed, he managed to roll to the side so that the bat hit his shoulder instead of his head. He kicked out and managed to catch the assailant on one of his shins and was rewarded with a sharp kick to his ribcage and another to his stomach. The last thing he heard before he blacked out were panicked shouts and the sound of feet rushing towards him.

“So what do you think of him, Mom, really?” Candice asked. They were frosting cookies together in the kitchen after work, so that they would have fewer to frost the next day. The deli would be donating a few hundred to the Valentine’s dance, which meant that they had to make even more than usual.

“He seems nice, but I haven’t really had a chance to get to know him, sweetie,” Moira pointed out. “If you like him and think he’s a good man, that’s good enough for me.”

“I do like him, and he’s passionate about the same things I am,” she said. “How about you? Do you actually like that Marcus guy, or did you just agree to go out with him because Martha asked you to?”

“Well, I don’t know him well enough to say if I like him or not. I probably wouldn’t have agreed to go to the dance with him if Martha hadn’t suggested him.” She sighed. “I don’t have anything to wear, and I’m too old for all of this.”

“It’s just the same old dance that City Hall hosts every year,” her daughter said. “You can wear any dress, and don’t say you’re too old. Half the women there will be older than you.”

“And the other half will be your age,” Moira pointed out. “And don’t get too excited and think that this means I’m going to start dating him. It’s just one outing, and we’re going with Martha and the guy that she’s seeing, too.”

“I know, I know. I’m just glad you agreed to go. Oh, do you want to see my dress?”

“Of course.” Moira set down the cookie that she had just finished frosting and looked around. When she didn’t see any other unfrosted cookies, she put her knife in the sink and began cleaning up. “I’ll finish here, and you go change into it. Deal?”

“Deal.” Her daughter took off her apron and then disappeared through the doorway.

Moira was in the middle of doing the dishes when her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. Taking a moment to dry her soapy hands, she dug for the phone. Seeing David’s name, she answered with a cheerful hello. Her good mood abruptly ended when his hoarse voice reached her ears.

“Moira,” he rasped. “Something happened.”

She listened to his description of the attack in shocked horror, grateful that he wasn’t more seriously injured. Even though he didn’t say anything about it being related to the murder of Jason Platte, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was. The coincidence seemed too great for it to be otherwise.