Hearty Homestyle Murder: Book 9 in The Darling Deli Series (4 page)

She saw a few other familiar faces as the rest of the judges slowly trickled in from the back entrance of the tent. The woman who had greeted her and Darrin was busy ladling soup into small bowls. Darrin was helping her, and another volunteer was writing out name cards for the judges. A few of the judges paused to speak with her or read the ingredient lists on the soups before heading to their seats. She didn’t know all of them by name, but most of them she recognized from around town. There was Arlo, the crotchety old man who owned Arlo’s Diner; Edna Koskis who ran the local auto shop EZ Wheels; Gordon Smith, chairman of the town council and ex-mayor; and chief of police Raymond Wale.

The young man who sat down at the head judge’s spot in the middle of the table looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him. The name card at his spot read
Willis.
Was he related to the mayor? She glanced over at Darrin, wondering if he recognized him, but he was looking straight ahead with a furrowed brow.
He must be nervous too
, she thought.
I hope we win.
David, who was sitting on her other side, laid his hand comfortingly on her arm.

“My fingers are crossed,” he whispered when she turned to look at him. “We’ll go out and celebrate either way tonight.”

Moira shot him a grateful smile, then turned her attention to the judges.

It seemed to take forever for the judges to reach Darrin’s soup. She tried not to fidget, but was certain that the judges were going slowly on purpose. Whenever a new soup was brought to the table, the head judge would read off the name of the soup and the list of ingredients. Then each of the judges would take a bite, discuss the flavor, eat a few more spoonfuls, then rate the soup based on flavor and creativity.

When it was finally time for the gumbo, Moira sat forward and gripped David’s hand. The judges weren’t supposed to know which soup belonged to which contestant, but she was certain that Denise would know that the gumbo was hers from her reaction.

“Vegetarian gumbo,” the head judge read. He listed the ingredients, making sure that they were all on the approved list for the contest. At his signal, each of the judges raised a spoonful to their mouths to taste. Moira felt a rush of relief when she saw the approving expressions on their faces. Everyone seemed to be enjoying it… everyone except for the head judge, who, she saw with horror, was wearing a revolted expression as he swallowed his mouthful. He quickly took a small bite of the accompanying cornbread, as if he was desperate to get the taste of the gumbo out of his mouth.

Feeling sick to her stomach, she listened intently as the judges discussed the gumbo, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t catch what they were saying. She did see Denise shoot the head judge a confused look as she shook her head in disagreement.

So one of the judges doesn’t like it
, she thought.
We can still win. The others seemed to really enjoy their samples.
She held her breath as they went back in for a second taste. The head judge raised his spoon reluctantly. Just as it touched his lips, it fell out of his fingers with a clatter, spattering gumbo over the white tablecloth. A concerned murmur went up from the spectators as the head judge leaned forward with a groan, his hands clutching at his stomach.

“Something’s wrong,” David muttered beside her. He released her hand and stood up just as the head judge toppled over, disappearing behind the long judge’s table.

“Reuben!” a single voice called out before the entire tent erupted into chaos.

Reuben Willis.
The name popped into Moira’s head as the paramedics surrounded the young man. The mayor’s son—she must have seen him when she catered his sister’s graduation party years ago.

Most of the people had been asked to leave the tent, but she had stayed behind while David talked to the police. She glanced towards him, but was unable to tear her gaze away from the huddle of paramedics near Reuben. It wasn’t looking good. He had still been moaning when the emergency response team had responded, but was now lying still and silent as they put him on a stretcher. Mayor Willis was standing nearby, pale and shaking.

“What do you think happened?” Darrin asked. He was subdued, obviously upset by the turn of events.

“I don’t know,” Moira said. “Maybe he had some sort of stroke.”

“Wasn’t Mayor Willis supposed to judge this competition himself?” he asked. “I wonder why he had his son do it.”

“I didn’t know who any of the judges were,” Moira admitted. “Well, other than Denise of course. How did you find out the mayor was supposed to be a judge?”

Darrin shrugged. “Do you think he’ll be okay?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the young man being carried to the ambulance.

Moira bit her lip, watching the unhurried gait of the paramedics, and the blank, vacant look in Reuben Willis’s unmoving eyes. Whatever had happened to him, he wouldn’t be getting better.

“No,” she told Darrin. “I think it’s too late for him already.”

After the ambulance drove away, David rejoined them and followed the two of them back to the booth that Moira had rented. Maverick and Diamond perked up when they saw her and rushed over to the side of the pen to greet her. She petted them absently while David explained to a horrified Meg what had happened.
I still can’t believe it
, she thought.
The mayor’s son is dead.
It was hard to believe that she had been so happy just over an hour ago, roaming the fairgrounds with David and eating a snow cone. How was it possible for everything to change so quickly? Her heart ached for poor Mayor Willis. She couldn’t imagine what it was like to lose a child, though she had come close when Candice had been kidnapped.

“Are you doing all right?” David asked her quietly once he was done telling Meg their story.

“No.” She sighed. “It’s just so horrible, and happened so quickly. I didn’t know him well, but I know the mayor—his dad—and I can’t stop thinking of what he must be going through.”

“He will never be the same,” David agreed. He lowered his voice even further and walked a few steps further away from the others with her. “From what the paramedics were telling me, everything is pointing towards some sort of poison. Which means that somebody killed the mayor’s son. I know it is hard to think about, but before the memories start to fade, I need to know… do you remember seeing anything suspicious?”

“Suspicious?” Moira asked, feeling the back of her neck prickle. Reuben Willis had been murdered? “Like what?”

“Anything. People looking shifty in areas they shouldn’t be, someone hanging around the soup table, maybe someone watching the mayor’s son instead even when someone else was talking.”

“No… I can’t think of anything,” she said slowly, doing her best to think back. She hadn’t been paying much attention to the crowd; she had been more concerned with the judges and how they reacted to each soup. “There were a lot of people near the soup table; this is just a small contest in the county fair, so it’s not like there was a lot of security.”

“That’s true. And that will make it hard for the police to find the culprit. It’s a busy area, no cameras… if it
was
murder, it will be a tough one to solve.”

“I’m sure Detective Jefferson and Detective Wilson will be able to handle it.” She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering feeling of unease. At least this time the murder wasn’t tied to herself or Candice. No one she loved was in immediate danger… so why did she still feel so uneasy?

“There was something…” she began after a moment. David turned to look at her questioningly. “Darrin told me that the mayor was originally supposed to be head judge, not his son. Which means that whoever killed Reuben might have been trying to kill his father.”

“I’ll pass that on to the police,” David told her, his face grim. “Whatever is going on, Moira, I want you to be careful. Try not to get involved in this.”

“It’s not like I go looking for crimes to solve,” she replied huffily. “I’m perfectly happy to sit back and let the police do their jobs.”

His lips twitched into a grin. Leaning forward, he gave her a quick kiss on the lips then leaned over the edge of the pen to pat Maverick and Diamond.

“You two take care of her,” he told the dogs. “She may act innocent, but she’s a magnet for trouble.”

Laughing, Moira promised to call him once she made it home later that evening. Watching him walk away, Moira still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something important that she was missing.

By the time she got home that evening she was exhausted. The fair had kept on going even after Reuben Willis was carted away. Most of the people who stopped by her booth didn’t even know what had happened. Moira had forced herself to smile and laugh with her customers, but when the gates finally closed and the only people left were fairground workers and vendors, she let the smile drop from her face. She might not have known Reuben Willis well—at all, really—but it still felt wrong to act like nothing had happened when a man had died.

Now, home at last with the dogs, she could finally let the events of the day come crashing through her. She let the dogs into the back yard, turned on the coffee machine—not to make a drink, but because the scent was comforting—sat down at the kitchen table, and cried. She had seen someone die today, and she hadn’t been able to do a thing to help.

An explosion of barking outside made her inhale sharply and wipe the tears from her face. Had someone come to her house? It was late, almost eleven, and she couldn’t think of anyone who would just drop by without calling first. She checked her phone as she stood up in case she had somehow missed a call or a text from Candice or David, but there wasn’t anything. Uneasy, wondering what the dogs could possibly be barking at, she grabbed a flashlight from one of the kitchen drawers and went outside.

“What’s going on, you guys?” she asked, clicking the light on and shining it towards the edge of the woods, which was about thirty feet away from the fenced-in portion of the backyard where the dogs were. Both of them had stopped barking when she joined them, but Maverick was still upset, pacing the fence line with his hackles up and a low rumble coming from his throat.

She didn’t see anything at first, but with Maverick still staring at the trees she knew that whatever had caused the barking was still out there.
It’s probably just a raccoon,
she told herself, trying to fight down the irrational tickle of fear that was making her heart pound. She shone the light along the tree line again, and nearly dropped it when the beam revealed a huge grey creature, its eyes eerily reflecting the light.

The animal froze, staring directly into the light. Moira’s first thought was that it was a wolf. Did wolves even live in Michigan? She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t think they did. Not around Maple Creek anyway. Then she saw the flash of tags on a collar around its neck and realized that it was a dog—the biggest dog she had ever seen.

Telling Maverick to hush, Moira slipped through the gate and slowly approached the animal, which was still watching her warily. Now that she recognized it as a dog she wasn’t frightened any more. What
had
she been worried about? A werewolf? A murderer hiding in her woods? Some sort of ghost? Chuckling at her own overactive imagination, she squatted a few feet away from the dog and held out a hand for it to sniff. The dog, which had wiry grey fur and deep brown eyes, took a wary step back before slowly stretching its head forward. Its wet nose brushed her palm, and she felt the warm flick of a tongue against her skin. She smiled.

“Come on, you,” she said softly. “Let’s get you inside and take a look at your collar. I’m sure your owners are worried sick about you.”

Ignoring Maverick’s ferocious barking from the fenced-in yard, she slipped her fingers through the stray dog’s collar, stood up, and led it towards the front door.

Once she had the dog inside under the bright kitchen lights she could see that the poor thing was matted and dirty. She still couldn’t get over the size of the dog, whose shoulders came up to above her hips. Luckily the dog seemed to be gentle and calm, and waited patiently while Moira unbuckled her collar to examine the tags.

“Your name’s Keeva?” she said, glancing down at the dog, whose ears had perked up at the sound of her name. Frowning, Moira turned the tags over in her hands. There didn’t seem to be a phone number or an address on either of them. The second tag, a rabies tag, was so worn that she couldn’t even make out the vet’s name.

“How am I going to find your home?” she asked. “Maybe you belong to one of my neighbors. I guess tomorrow we’ll drive around and see if anybody recognizes you.”

She stroked Keeva’s head, then wrinkled her nose. The dog had obviously been outside for a while, and judging from her wet legs and the smell of rotting leaves clinging to her, she had probably been wandering around in the swamp that bordered the back part of Moira’s property. She didn’t want to make the poor pup stay outside, but if she was going to let the huge dog sleep indoors, she would need a bath first.

“Well, let’s clean you up.” Moira grabbed a box of dog treats and shook it encouragingly, letting the dog follow her up the stairs and into the master bathroom.

After a bath and a blow dry, Keeva looked much better. Moira washed her collar in the sink and put it back on, then stepped back to admire her handiwork. The dog seemed to be a gentle giant, and had been happy to simply stand in the tub while Moira hosed her down.