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

Chuckling, Moira said, “I’ll put them in the backyard while they dry. You can head in and start doing your laundry, if you’d like. I made some creamy potato and bacon soup for lunch, it’ll only take me a few minutes to heat it up.”

A few minutes later they were sitting across the table from each other with bowls of the homemade soup in front of them. The hum of the washing machine could be heard from the mudroom, and every once in a while one of the dogs, who were still too wet to come into the house, would press their nose against the kitchen window that looked out into the back yard.

“I think they’re jealous that we’re eating without them,” Candice said as Maverick stared at them from outside.

“They’re both a bit spoiled,” Moira admitted. “They know they get leftovers. But they’re very well behaved for the most part. Maverick is going to miss Keeva when her owner picks her up.”

“So she called you?” her daughter asked. “It’s really the right person?”

“Yes. She even emailed me pictures of Keeva, so I’m certain that she’s really the owner. I’m going to be very sad to see her go, but I’m glad that everything is turning out right for both Chelsea, that’s the owner, and Keeva. It sounds like she really loves her.” She had no doubt that the dog would be going back to a good home. Maybe she would think about getting a second dog of her own in the future, once things slowed down a bit at the deli.
Or maybe not,
she thought.
I did promise Martha I would watch Diamond whenever she went away from business. That will be like having a second dog, part time. I don’t think I have the time or energy to raise a puppy right now anyway.

“That’s good. I hope she sends you pictures once she picks Keeva up and gets her settled in back at her house. I’ve been thinking of getting a pet myself, but I don’t have the time for a dog. Maybe I’ll go with a cat. I’ll just have to come over here and visit Maverick if I want to see a dog.”

“You know you’re welcome any time, sweetie,” Moira told her. “You can even come over if I’m not here. You know where the spare key is.”

“I’m sure I’ll take you up on that offer eventually. So how’s stuff going at the deli? I feel like I haven’t been there in ages. I kind of miss working there sometimes and hanging out with Darrin and Dante and everyone. This soup is really good, by the way.”

“Thanks. I need to go shopping—I was kind of running low on ingredients when I made it. And as far as how things at the deli are going… well, I told you about the graffiti on the windows, of course. Someone came back last night, but ran away as soon at the security lights came on. The cameras barely caught him, but I’m pretty sure there was a can of spray paint in his hand. I gave the police the video, but they haven’t done anything about it yet.”

“That’s so scary. Someone’s definitely targeting you, Mom.”

“That’s not all.” Moira took a deep breath. Something had been nagging at her since the picnic with her friends the day before. “Darrin has been acting weird lately. And I think he lied to me about where he was going this weekend. He told me he needed some time off to go help a family member, but Denise said she saw him at the Grill later that same day with a girl. I don’t like to think that he would have lied to me to get time off, but I really can’t think of another option that makes sense.”

“Normally I would tell you to relax. I mean, it’s Darrin,” Candice said. “He’s like the most reliable guy ever. But I think he’s been acting odd lately too. He stopped by the candy shop a few times last week and kept asking me if I knew anything about the murder at the fair.”

“What did you tell him?” Moira asked, an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of her stomach.

“Oh, just what I heard from you and David. That someone poisoned the bowl of gumbo, and that the police had spoken to you.” She shrugged. “He mostly wanted to know what sort of evidence had been found at the crime scene and stuff. All that stuff I didn’t know, and I told him so. Why? What do you think is going on with him?”

“I don’t know,” Moira said. “But I’m going to find out.”

Dinner at the Redwood Grill twice in seven days might have been a bit excessive, but Moira wanted to do everything she could to support Denise. Besides, she wanted to talk to David, and she knew the best way to put him in a talkative mood was to get a nice juicy steak in front of him. For good measure, she had also saved the good news about Keeva for their dinner.

“And Chelsea said she’ll be here tomorrow to pick her up,” she finished. Now that she had had a chance to get used to the idea of the big grey wolfhound leaving, she was overjoyed for both dog and owner. She couldn’t wait to see the looks on their faces as they were reunited. Sure, Maverick would miss her, but he’d get used to it being just the two of them again soon enough. She would just have to take him on a few extra walks and have a few more sessions of fetch in the backyard until he was used to being the only dog again. Besides, he and Diamond would still get together for playdates, so he wouldn’t be completely alone.

“I just can’t believe that she’s all the way from Kentucky,” he said, amazed. “That is one lucky dog. Are you going to be all right with her gone?”

“I’ll miss her of course, but it feels really good to be reuniting the two of them. You should have heard how happy Chelsea was on the phone. That dog is like her child,” she told him.

“I wonder how she got lost in the first place,” he mused.

The waitress, a young woman with tight, curly black hair and a bright smile, appeared at their table. She must have been new; Moira had never seen her before, and she was there often enough to recognize most of her friend’s employees.

“Hi, can I take your order?” she asked, glancing first at David, then at Moira, unsure about who to address first.

“I’ll have the southwestern chicken sandwich,” the deli owner said. “And can I get that with a side of sweet potato fries instead of normal fries?”

“Sure, how would you like those seasoned?”

“Um, what are the options?”

“Regular sea salt, garlic Parmesan, or extra-spicy barbecue rub,” the waitress said. “I recommend the garlic Parmesan, personally.”

“Sure, that sounds good to me.” The different seasonings for the fries must be new; probably another of Denise’s ingenious ideas to make the Grill’s offerings more specialized.

David ordered a slab of baby back ribs and mashed red potatoes, one of the three meals at the Redwood Grill that he alternated between. Moira tried a new dish almost every time she went, and wondered if it was the cook in her that made her so adventurous.
There is something to be said for sticking with food that you know you like
, she thought as the waitress slid the plate of food in front of her a few minutes later.
I hope this isn’t too spicy; I didn’t even think of that.
The food was perfect, though, and once again she was glad that she had tried something new.

“So, David,” she began, going forward with her plan to pick his brains about the murder case after they had both had a chance to taste their food.

“Actually, Moira, before we get sidetracked, there’s something I need to tell you,” he said.

Surprised, she put down her fork. His expression was grim. “What is it?” she asked warily.

“As you know, I’ve been following the case of Reuben’s death. Without being hired by a client, I’m not officially on it, but the guys at the station know that I’m interested in it because it involves you.” He glanced around the restaurant to make sure no one was close enough to listen in and lowered his voice. “I’m not really supposed to be telling you this, but just before I left to meet you here, two things happened. First, the vial that contained the poison used to kill Reuben Willis has been found. Second, the police received an anonymous tip that your employee was seen tipping the contents of the vial into a bowl of gumbo before the judges were served.”

Moira felt as if she had been punched in the gut. With unsteady fingers she picked up her napkin and wiped her fingers, her mind racing.

“What does this mean?” she asked at last. “Why do they think that one of
my
employees did it? The only person who was even
near
the tent when the soup contest was going on was Darrin. Everyone else was working…” She trailed off, frozen as she remembered seeing Darrin slip the small, mysterious vial into his pocket before the contest when he thought no one was looking.

“What?” he asked, knowing her well enough by now to know that she had just realized something important.

“David, what did the vial look like?” she whispered. “The one that they found that held the poison.”

“I glanced at the picture of it, but I didn’t look at it much,” he said. “From what I remember it was just a small brown glass vial. Like the kind that vanilla extract comes in.”

This keeps getting worse and worse
, Moira thought. That was exactly the kind of vial she had seen Darrin slip into his pocket.

“And the person that this anonymous tipper described? What did he look like?”

“That’s why I waited to discuss this with you in person, Moira,” David said softly. “The description was a perfect match for Darrin.”

“That can’t be,” she said, refusing to believe it. “Why would Darrin want to kill Reuben Willis? I don’t think they even knew each other.”

“I don’t know the answer to that either, but I’m going to try to find out,” he said. “But for now I think you should stay away from him. Is he scheduled to work any time soon?”

“No… he took some time off,” she said. “He won’t be back until Monday or Tuesday.”

David raised his eyebrows. “That seems like quite the coincidence. Do you have any idea where he went?”

“Well, he said that he was going to Wisconsin to help his father move, but I have my doubts.” She told him about Denise seeing him at the Grill with a girl.

“Something is definitely up with him,” David said. “After dinner, I’m going to do some digging and see if I can’t find some sort of motive for him to want to kill Reuben or his father. Right now the police don’t have enough to do anything other than bring him in for questioning, but a good motive might give them the fuel they need to put a warrant out for him. I know he’s one of your best employees, but it’s looking like he might also be the killer.”

“If you’re going back to your office, I want to come with you,” Moira said. “Whatever’s going on, I want to know about it too. I can’t believe that I made this mistake again—if he
is
guilty, then I feel responsible for not noticing that something was off about him sooner. There must have been signs.”

“Sometimes there aren’t any,” he replied sadly. “Sometimes you never know how dangerous someone is until it’s too late.”

Back at David’s office they sat down side-by-side at the desktop computer on his huge desk. He turned towards her, his fingers poised on the keys.

“What’s Darrin’s last name?” he asked.

“Hammond,” she said. She spelled it for him. “What are you doing?”

“Right now I’m just searching for his relatives to see if he actually has family in Wisconsin. The search will also bring up any news articles and anything else of note related to the family name in this area. Oh, look, it already found something.”

They both leaned closer to the screen to read the article that David clicked on.

“Maple Creek Mayoral Race,” the article read. It was dated four years ago. The first paragraph had pictures of the candidates—Mayor Willis, Gordon Smith with his arm around a smiling woman, and someone named Jedidiah Hammond who looked like an older version of Darrin. Moira wasn’t surprised to see the first two, but the third candidate shocked her.

“Is that Darrin’s dad?” she asked.

“Grandfather,” he replied. “Look, his obituary is in the paper six months later.
Survived by son Forrest Hammond and grandchildren Darrin and Danni Hammond.”

“Wow. So his grandfather lost the mayoral race to Mayor Willis, died a few months later, and now his dad is being forced to sell the family house? It’s been a rough few years for them. I had no idea.”

“You know what this means, don’t you?” David asked, his face grim. “Darrin could very well blame Mayor Willis for all of his family’s current troubles. This could be motive for murder, Moira.”

Chelsea would be there in five minutes to pick up Keeva. Moira stared at the text for another moment, unable to help the sadness that was welling up inside her. It was hard to believe that she had only had the dog for a little over a week. Keeva had already settled so well into her daily routines. She wondered if all Irish wolfhounds were as patient and good tempered as she was.

“You get to go home, girl,” she said to the dog, who thumped her tail, though whether in response to her voice or the word “home,” Moira couldn’t tell.

She had a small bag of things that she had decided should go with Keeva waiting by the door. In it was the leash that she had bought her, some of Maverick’s kibble to help her transition back to whatever she normally ate, and a box of her favorite treats.

She felt a pang as she watched the two dogs start to wrestle on the living room floor as she waited. Neither knew what was about to happen. When Keeva drove away with her owner, would Maverick understand that he would never see his friend again? She hoped he wouldn’t be too lonely staying here alone during the days while she worked again. He had been used to it before, but for the past two weeks he’d had the other dogs around to keep him company while she was gone.