She hesitated. It would be nice to have him there, but the deli had always been her place, her sanctuary. It felt like something she should do on her own. “Thanks, but I think I need to do this myself,” she said. “I’m probably going to be a complete mess. Didn’t you have to go check on the furnace at the office?”
“I can always see if Lenny can go in instead, if you need me to come with you,” he said. “But if you’re sure that you want to go alone…”
“I am,” she said. “I can’t really explain it, but I think I need to face this on my own.”
She shut the door to the SUV and pulled out of the driveway almost an hour later. She was only planning on being gone for an hour or two, so she left the dogs at home. Ever since the doggie daycare had opened next to the little restaurant, she had gotten into the habit of bringing them with her, so they could spend time playing with other dogs while she worked. She felt a little bit bad leaving them home alone, but she didn’t think that she would be able to handle it if Wyatt or one of the other employees at the doggie daycare tried to talk to her about Darrin’s death.
She was distracted by a text message from Candice, updating her on how her conversation with Allison was going, as she pulled into the deli’s parking lot. It wasn’t until she was out of the car and walking toward the deli’s front doors that she noticed the pile of flowers, cards, and bundles of gift baskets and boxes that were leaning against the front of the deli. She stumbled to a halt, shocked. It had only been a day since Darrin had passed away. The large pile of tokens left by well-wishers showed her how much the town truly cared about them all.
She unlocked the door, feeling tears prick her eyes. The unexpected gesture of goodwill went a long way, and she made sure to bring every last one of the items inside once she had the deli unlocked.
After she brought everything in, she ventured into the kitchen to turn on the lights. Just seeing how much people cared had made her throat close up again, and she wanted to go through the flowers and notes in the privacy of the kitchen, instead of in front of the wide-open window in the dining area. She felt fragile, as if a single word could set her off crying again, and she wanted to get everything done today without breaking down if she could help it.
She started the coffee pot and began going through the items. Many of the flowers and gift baskets had been sent anonymously, and had been addressed either to her or to Darling’s DELIcious Delights as a whole. Those she set aside, feeling a little bit bad that she wouldn’t be able to send thank you notes to the people who had sent them anonymously. The bouquets that had been sent In Memory of Darrin with no specific addressee she set aside into another pile, this one for Darrin’s parents. She didn’t know whether it would help, but she thought that it might be nice to show them how many people had been thinking of their son.
She felt a surge of love for her town as she read note after note left by people giving their condolences for his death. Maple Creek wasn’t always perfect, but the fact that all of her regulars and the other townsfolk could come together like this when something bad happened meant a lot to her.
It took a while for her to get around to her original purpose for visiting the deli, which had been to make sure that nothing would spoil over the next few days, and to go through Darrin’s things to see if there was anything his parents might want. Making a mental note to send thank you cards to those people who had left their own name and address on the gifts, she stood up and walked over to the row of coat hooks and the small locker that her employees used to store their personal items. None of them tended to leave much at the deli, but there was usually a handful of small everyday items left in the locker, and sometimes an extra jacket or sweatshirt hanging on the hooks.
There were so few people working at the deli and they all knew each other so well, that they had never labeled their shelves or hooks. It took her a couple of minutes to identify the shelf in the locker that belonged to Darrin. She was disappointed to see that he hadn’t left anything behind besides a couple of coins, a charging cord for his phone, and a folded-up newspaper. Doubting his parents would want any of it, she was about to close the locker again when the title of the article on the front page of the newspaper caught her eye. The deli had been featured in a weekly special the paper had been doing about local businesses.
She picked it up, knowing that the picture featured in the article was one of her and all of her employees standing in front of the restaurant. She was smiling as she unfolded it, but her smile quickly faded as she saw that one of the people in the photo had been violently scribbled over. She knew even before studying the photo more closely what she would find.
The figure that had been so violently scribbled out was Darrin.
Chapter Eight
Moira stared at the photo in the paper, feeling as though her blood had turned to ice. Whoever had scratched out Darrin’s face had done it so violently that the paper had ripped. She couldn’t imagine that Darrin had done it himself, but she also didn’t think any of the other employees would have done such a terrible thing. Besides, she and Darrin were the only ones who had worked that day, and she knew for a fact that she hadn’t been the one to scribble on the newspaper.
She remembered the strange man who had been taking photos of the deli and frowned. She wished, not for the first time, that she had managed to ask him what he was doing before getting distracted by Vickie. She couldn’t see why he would have anything against Darrin, but he was the only suspicious person she could remember from that day.
She gazed at the photo for a while longer, remembering how withdrawn Darrin had been after coming back in from unloading the truck. He must have gotten the mail and seen this scribbled on paper at that time. Why he wouldn’t have told her about it, she didn’t know, but the timeline made sense.
Was this violently scribbled on paper a threat? Had he known something was going to happen before it did? She didn’t know what to think, or what Darrin could possibly have been involved in. She had always seen him as a responsible, good-hearted young man, and the thought of him living the sort of life that ended in threatening newspaper articles and a gunshot wound to the chest just didn’t make sense.
With a shiver, she refolded the newspaper and put it into a plastic bag, along with everything else on the shelf for good measure. She knew she had to take it to the police. It very well might be evidence. With luck, they might be able to get fingerprints from it. She placed the bag on the counter next to her purse, mentally chiding herself for touching it with her bare hands. The last thing she wanted to do was interfere with evidence that might lead the police to Darrin’s killer.
She tackled the fridge next, removing the perishable items and packing away most of it to bring home. Mostly she was concerned about the meat, which she only defrosted a day or two in advance. She didn’t know when she would reopen the deli, and there was no sense in letting the chicken, beef, and pork go bad. Maybe she could make a couple of meat pies over the next few days. Cooking always helped her feel better, and she could bring a few to Candice, and a few to Thelma and her other friends. The holidays were a time of giving.
Candice called as she was packing up. Moira was glad to set aside the ham she had been packaging to answer the phone.
“How did things go with Allison?” she asked after they exchanged greetings.
“She feels terrible, and I think she’s blaming herself,” Candice said. “I’m glad we got the chance to talk, though. She had a really good idea. What would you think about dedicating our float in the Christmas parade as a memorial to him? You could gather donations for his funeral expenses, and send it all to his parents.”
“I think that’s a lovely idea,” Moira said. She winced when the first thing that ran through her mind was that she would have to call Darrin to see if he could help her plan it. He had been her right-hand man at the deli for years. It would be a long time before she was used to his absence. “I’ll see what I can do to put something together.”
&nb
sp; For a moment, she thought about telling her daughter about the scribbled-out photo of him she had found in the newspaper, but decided against it. Candice was already more involved in this murder than she would have liked, and she didn’t want to risk her daughter getting drawn in even further.
The next few days passed slowly. After dropping the paper off at the police station, Moira hadn’t heard anything new about the case. She knew that she probably should not expect to hear anything before the general public did – after all, Darrin had been an employee, and not a family member, and the crime hadn’t taken place on her property, but she still wished desperately for some hint of progress. Her heart ached every time she thought of him, but she also felt a clench of fear knowing that the killer was still out there and his or her motives were unknown.
Even though it meant that her daughter was busy, she was glad that Candice and Allison were spending a lot of their time together. The two of them had completely taken over the planning of the memorial in the parade. She had a feeling that keeping busy was helping Allison tremendously. Losing a friend was never easy, but the manner of his death had to make a difficult situation even worse than it might have been otherwise.
When the time came to reopen the deli, she felt guilty, even though she knew that no one expected her to keep it closed indefinitely. Still, it didn’t feel right to be opening the doors and starting up the ovens in the morning, using one of Darrin’s creative breakfast cookie recipes, knowing that he would never again stand in the kitchen. She had half planned to hand the deli over to him when it came time for her to retire. She could hardly imagine a future there without him.
She was in the middle of counting out the cash register before opening when she happened to glance out the window. She froze the instant she saw him. It was that man, the one who had been taking pictures. He was walking past the deli, casual as could be.
Her heart pounding, she put down the pile of five dollar bills she had been counting and pushed her way through the front door without a second thought. She hurried through the deli’s parking lot, coming up behind the man.
“Excuse me,” she called out. His steps faltered, and he turned to look at her.
“Yes?”
“I…” She fell silent, realizing that she didn’t have the faintest idea of what to say to him. She couldn’t very well accuse him of murder here and now, and she didn’t actually have any idea whether or not he’d had anything to do with Darrin’s death. The only reason he even stood out in her mind was because she remembered him taking all of those pictures.
“Could I talk to you?” she asked instead, inclining her head toward the deli.
She saw something flash across his face. She thought it was an expression of guilt, but it was gone too quickly for her to be sure.
“All right,” he said, sounding more resigned than surprised. “Lead the way.”
He followed her back into the deli. Moira was already mentally kicking herself for being so brash. What had she been thinking? She was going to be alone in the deli with a man who might be a murderer, or at least a stalker. She had just been so excited to see him, and had hoped that it would be her chance to finally find some answers.
The man sat obediently at the table she gestured to, and she excused herself to go into the kitchen and pour them both some coffee. He seemed surprisingly resigned, and she had a feeling he knew exactly why she wanted to talk to him. When she returned, she placed his coffee on the table, but remained standing and kept hers in her hand. Before she could speak, he started talking.
“It’s not what you think,” he said. “I’m not trying to copy your restaurant. My investor just wanted to see what the competition looks like, so he could get an idea of what direction we should go in to make sure the Souper Sandwich is unique enough to gather its own base of loyal customers.”
The deli owner blinked. It was as if the man had begun speaking gibberish. She gaped at him for a few seconds before realizing she must look like a puzzled fish.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
It was his turn to stare. “I… I thought you must have seen the announcement in yesterday’s paper. If you didn’t hear about the grand opening, why did you want to talk to me?”
“I wanted to ask you about the pictures you were taking,” she admitted. “I thought they might tie in to something else.” She wasn’t about to bring up the murder, not now after he had thrown her such a curve ball.
“I’m surprised you haven’t heard.” He reached into his coat pocket and Moira tensed, but all he did was fish out a newspaper clipping. He gazed at it for a moment, a proud smile on his face, then handed it to her. “Go ahead and keep it.”
Moira grabbed the clipping, half expecting to see another photo with Darrin’s face scribbled out, but instead she saw an article that had nothing to do with the deli.
New Sandwich Shop to Open in Lake Marion
The Souper Sandwich, owned by Cole Geary, is scheduled to open its doors the first week of the new year. Mr. Geary describes the restaurant as a unique, family friendly soup, sandwich, and salad bar, with a wide variety of options for every dietary restriction.
“I’m thrilled to finally be opening my own restaurant,” Mr. Geary told our reporter. “I know I’ll be facing some serious competition, but I think we’ll be able to carve our own niche into this small community.”
Mr. Geary scoped out the property this summer, and began renovations in private. He seems confident in the success of his restaurant, despite major competition from local deli owner, Moira Darling.
Moira stared at the paper, reading through the article twice. She realized she had been so caught up in dealing with the aftermath of Darrin’s death that she hadn’t so much as glanced at the news for days. Somehow, she was the last person to learn about this new restaurant opening. She had to admit, it explained a lot about the man’s behavior.
She set the article down and let her eyes meet his. “So, you’re opening your own soup and sandwich shop?”
He nodded, his eyes friendly and earnest. Gone was the man surreptitiously taking photos of her deli.
“Well, congratulations,” she said, forcing a small smile and extending her hand. “Welcome to the area. I’ll be sure to stop in for the grand opening.”
Looking surprised, he shook her hand and stood up. Moira watched him go, feeling oddly disappointed. It looked like she had been wrong. The strange man taking photos of the deli had nothing at all to do with Darrin, which meant she was back to square one.
She glanced down at the newspaper article again and prodded her feelings, trying to focus on business and forget about her employee’s death temporarily. She had no idea how much this new shop might affect business, and couldn’t seem to find the emotional reserves to care very much at the moment. She and everyone else at the deli had just suffered through a major reminder that there were things more important than money. It was hard to care about some lost business when one of her employees was gone forever.
It was difficult to imagine that this time last week, she had been on cloud nine. So much had changed since then, and she found herself wondering when she would ever feel truly happy again.
Chapter Nine
After he left, Moira returned to the kitchen, where she began preparing the soup of the day. It was difficult to focus on the work that she had to do, but she knew once she began, she would start to feel better.
Today, for the first time since Darrin’s death, she was trying out a new recipe; chicken wonton soup. She had been preparing the wontons all morning, and only had a few left to make. The filling smelled delicious already, with ground chicken, finely chopped fresh ginger root, a dash of soy sauce, sesame oil, and shaved carrot. It had taken her a couple of tries to get the hang of the folding the wontons, but now she could make them with barely a glance at her hands.
She finished folding the last one and laid it out in the bowl with its companions, then turned h
er attention to making the broth. The base was just a regular chicken broth, which she set to simmering on the stove. She added finely diced garlic, more ginger, soy sauce, sugar, and a dash of sesame oil. While the broth simmered, she took time to chop bok choy, water chestnuts, more carrots, and the green onions. After the soup had been simmering for a few minutes, she added the veggies, other than the green onions, which she would add to each individual bowl as garnish. After that, she began cooking the dumplings in a separate pot of boiling water, watching them carefully and picking them out with a slotted spoon as they began to float.
It had been an easy soup to make, and smelled promising. She checked the clock again. She still had a little bit of time before they were supposed to begin serving lunch, so she ladled herself some broth into a bowl, dropped a few wontons in, and sat down at the table to enjoy a quick meal for herself.
I’ll have to make this for David sometime, she thought as she tasted the soup. It was simply fantastic, and she had a feeling that her husband would enjoy it. The two of them often got Chinese take-out when they were too busy to cook, and even though her wonton soup didn’t taste exactly the same as the restaurant soup did, it was just as good, in her opinion.
Murder, My Darling Page 4
