A Side of Murder: Book 18 in The Darling Deli Series

by Patti Benning

  “It looks like they updated their menus just for the holiday,” said David. “Look.”

  She picked up hers and smiled. The menus were light pink, and offered quite a few entrees that she hadn’t seen on her last visit.

  “Wow, it all looks so good. Thai peanut tofu might be good. Hmm, lamb sounds amazing though.”

  “I know what I want,” David said, closing his menu. She raised an eyebrow.

  “That was fast.”

  “Beef tenderloin is hard to say no to,” he said, grinning. “What are you getting?”

  “I don’t know, I’ve hardly begun looking.”

  David chuckled, and Moira gave him a good-natured eye roll. She would never understand how he could know what he wanted after just a glance at the menu, and he would never understand why it could take her ten minutes to narrow down her choices. It was one of the many differences between them, something that they could laugh and joke about. She was glad that they had those small differences; if they didn’t they wouldn’t have as much to talk about.

  Their wait for the food was longer than usual, but Moira didn’t mind. With how busy the restaurant was, she wasn’t surprised that the kitchen was being pushed to its limits. The Redwood Grill was the biggest restaurant in town, but most evenings it served a third of the amount of guests that were there tonight. The wait gave her and David more time to talk. She sipped her wine slowly, happy to sit back and enjoy the evening. After dinner, they were going to go to the movie theater in Lake Marion to catch the showing of a movie that they had both been wanting to see for a while. After that, they would go home and relax with the dogs while going over the paperwork for the brewery. David was not only preparing to sign the lease, but he was also applying for a business license. Moira had done the same once herself, but it had been a couple of years and they kept having to look things up.

  The wait for food was worth it. Moira’s lamb chops were perfectly cooked. Her first bite was heavenly. She closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat.

  “This is the life,” she sighed.

  “It sure it.”

  “How is your steak?”

  “Great, as always,” he said. “The garlic mashed potatoes are tasty, too. Here, try a bite.”

  She gave him a bite of her lamb in exchange, and smiled at the surprised look on his face. “Tender, isn’t it?”

  “Amazing. It practically melts in the mouth. If I wasn’t such a loyal fan of good old beef steaks, I might say it gives my tenderloin a run for its money.”

  “The chef is really working hard today. I’m glad the deli never gets this busy. I don’t think I’d enjoy working in such a fast-paced kitchen.”

  “I think you’d —”

  His reply was just cut off by a loud shriek, coming from just a few tables over. Moira jumped and twisted her neck to look. What in the world had happened? From the noise, she half expected to see someone lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Instead, her gaze found a woman about her age leaning across the table towards a middle-aged man who was gripping the edge of the table tightly, his head bent over his soup bowl. As she watched, his face turned bright red, and he started wheezing loudly enough that she could hear it a few tables over. His hands reached for his throat as his companion reached for him. Before she could touch him, he toppled sideways out of the chair.

  The entire restaurant seemed to be frozen as the man struggled on the ground. David was the one who broke the stillness. He stood up and rushed over to the man, whose lips were turning blue. Moira half rose out of her seat, but didn’t know what she could possibly do to help. She could see hives on his face now, but she couldn’t hear his wheezing any longer.

  “Is he allergic to anything?” she heard David ask the woman, his voice urgent.

  “Peanuts.”

  “Does he have an epinephrine shot on him?”

  “I- I don’t know—”

  “Call an ambulance, then! He needs help.”

  He knelt down by the man, and began patting his pockets. He pulled out a wallet and a phone, but nothing that could have saved the man’s life. It wasn’t until he was sure there was no life-giving injection anywhere on the man that he stopped searching. He moved closer to the man’s head, who at this point was no longer moving, and felt for a pulse. Moira waited with baited breath, her heart pounding. It seemed to take an eternity for David to rise.

  “Nothing,” he said. “I think he’s dead.”

  Chapter Four

  * * *

  The restaurant, which had been so peaceful just a few minutes before, erupted into chaos. Moira sat back down in her chair, hoping that David would rejoin her before things got too crazy, but instead she saw him pull out his phone and make his way towards the exit. He looked over his shoulder and met her eyes. When he saw that she saw him, he gestured that he would be right back, then pointed to his phone. She nodded, showing that she understood. Someone needed to call the police, and she didn’t see anyone else in the restaurant thinking straight.

  The woman’s crying could be heard even over the sounds of frightened and shocked guests talking to each other. Moira bit her lip and looked around the room, desperate to do something to help, but unsure what would be useful. Her gaze fixed on a tall redhead walking through the crowed. Denise pushed through the crowd of people, pausing only to grab a waiter by the arm.

  “What’s going on?” she demanded.

  “A — a man —” he stammered, only to be interrupted by the dead man’s companion.

  “Brody’s dead!” she shrieked. “You did it, your horrible restaurant killed my Brody.”

  “What are you talking about?” Denise asked. She came closer, then paused mid-step when she saw the man on the floor. Her face paled.

  “He’s not breathing,” the woman sobbed. She knelt next to his body and put her hand on his chest. “No heartbeat. That man said he was dead.”

  “Did someone call the police?”

  “David,” Moira said, catching her friend’s eye. “He’s on it.”

  Denise nodded. The shock already seemed to be fading, and now she was taking charge. “Right. Everyone keep back. Don’t crowd the poor man. Is anyone here a doctor? Some sort of medical professional? This man needs help.”

  The mutterings quieted down, but the room did not fall silent. No one came forward. The woman’s sobbing was the loudest sound in the restaurant. When David came back inside, all eyes found him.

  “The ambulance is on the way,” he said. “Did anything change?”

  Moira knew that he was hoping the man had made a miraculous recovery. She saw his face fall as his eyes landed on the couple in the middle of the room. There was now a circle of space around them. At least the woman wasn’t in danger of being trampled anymore, but she felt bad that no one was going to help her.

  “Martin,” Denise called out. “I need you here to help.”

  A lanky young man wearing an assistant manager’s tag pushed his way through the crowd. “What can I do, Ms. Donovan?” His eyes flicked nervously down to the man on the floor.

  “Make sure the parking lot is clear for the ambulance. Don’t let anyone else come in.” She turned to the crowd of people watching. “I need all of you to move aside. Don’t block the paramedics when they get here. Make sure they have a clear channel from here to the door.”

  The young employee hurried away to carry out his orders. On his way past the table, his knuckles brushed the man’s soup bowl, and it went flying to shatter on the floor. He paused with a horrified look on his face. Denise shooed him away.

  “Go! Just go. We need to make sure the ambulance can get in.”

  “You killed him and you just destroyed the evidence!” With no warning, the enraged woman on the floor launched herself at Denise. “You poisoned his soup!” she shrieked.

  David and another man from the crowd rushed forward to restrain the woman.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Brenda.” She was shaking. “Let go of me.�
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  “No, Brenda, not if you’re going to attack somebody.”

  “But she killed him.” Tears began to spill over onto the woman’s cheeks.

  “Why do you say that?” David asked. “I didn’t see Denise anywhere around when he collapsed.”

  “She owns the restaurant, doesn’t she? He died after eating her soup.”

  “We don’t know what happened yet,” he said. “I know it’s difficult, but please try to calm down. I think I hear the ambulance now.”

  The paramedics pronounced Brody dead on the scene. Brenda took in a shuddering breath and sat down heavily. The police began rounding people up, asking them a few questions before letting them go. Moira watched all of this with a heavy feeling in her heart. It was bad enough that a man had died, but on Valentine’s Day?

  “Ms. Darling.” Detective Jefferson, her friend on the police force, nodded to her. “You can go now, if you want. I think David’s almost done talking to Officer Fidd. Bret Kingsly, the other man who helped restrain the victim’s companion, just finished.”

  “Did he leave? Oh, I wanted to thank him for helping to restrain that woman. She was so upset, I was worried she was going to hurt Denise.”

  “She thanked him herself,” the detective said. “He and David acted quickly, which is good. An assault charge would only make matters more complicated here.”

  “I can imagine.” She bit her lip. “Do you have any idea what happened?”

  “According to the paramedic, the man’s death was consistent with a severe allergic reaction. We’ll know more after the autopsy, but I think this one will be open and shut. It’s unfortunate, but these things do happen. We found an epinephrine shot in his car. If he had only brought it in with him, this story might have had a happy ending.”

  “I know that woman, Brenda, did say he’s allergic to peanuts. I just don’t understand how he would have eaten one accidentally. It’s not like he would have ordered something with peanuts in it.”

  “It may have been an accident in the kitchen. These types of allergies can be very extreme. Just a few, small particles could have been enough to kill him.”

  Moira’s heart fell. If what the detective was saying was accurate, then Denise might have a lot of trouble on her hands. She knew her friend wouldn’t ever have contaminated the man’s food on purpose, but even an accidental death could shut her restaurant down for good, especially in such a small town where reputation mattered so much. How would the grill make it through this?

  “That husband of yours is a fast thinker. It’s a shame he couldn’t make a difference. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, there’s just nothing you can do.” Jefferson gave her a sad smile. “That’s enough from me. You go on. David’s done, and Fidd’s walking over here now to give his report. We’ll get to the bottom of this as soon as possible.”

  Usually, that would be reassuring, Moira thought. But now I’m just worried for Denise. Can one stray peanut really do so much damage? Is there any possible way that she can get out of this without losing the restaurant?

  Chapter Five

  * * *

  Part of being a good friend meant being there when the other person needed to talk. Moira knew that Denise had been through a lot in the past couple of years, but nothing seemed to have affected the other woman as much as the ongoing investigation at the grill. Her friend was a workaholic who tended to immerse herself in her restaurant when life outside of work got tough. With the grill temporarily closed down, the woman had nothing to turn to to keep her mind off of the death on Valentine’s Day.

  When she got off the phone with Denise the next evening, Moira, who was worried about her friend’s emotional state, decided to do something to cheer the woman up. Figuring out what that something would be took her a while. In the end, she decided to go with the one thing that was practically guaranteed to make someone feel better — food.

  As the owner of a deli, Moira was well versed in how to make an array of soups, sandwiches, and salads. Those three food groups alone offered plenty of variety, but this time she felt like branching out into something different. If she was going to host a girl’s evening to cheer her friend up, then she wanted to make the entire thing an event to remember.

  It had been a long time since she had set aside a few hours to just relax with her friends. She felt a bit bad when she asked David if she could have the house to herself the next evening, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  “I was planning on spending a few hours at the brewery, anyway,” he said. “Karissa’s interested in going into business with me, so I want to give her the grand tour.”

  Karissa was David’s sister, a woman that Moira got along with relatively well. He had asked her, first, if she was interested in partnering with him, but after some consideration she decided that it would be too complex to juggle figuring out how to make a brewery work with running the deli, caring for the dogs, and focusing on her plans for the deli’s future. She hoped his sister would help him out — it was always nice to work with family.

  “I’ll try to make sure they aren’t here too late,” she told him. “I feel like Denise really needs this.”

  “I’ll keep my ear to the ground for any news about the investigation,” he said. “Sorry I didn’t get a chance to check on anything today. I’ve been so busy trying to get everything together for this brewery business. I hope to be able to sign the papers tomorrow.”

  “It’s exciting, isn’t it?” she said, grinning. “This is going to be a big step. I can’t wait to see how things turn out.”

  Moira ended up settling on fondue as the perfect way to distract her friend from the mess at the Redwood Grill. Mouthwatering melted cheese to dip bread in, velvety milk chocolate for fruits and cake, and a red-wine based fondue for cooking the meat. It was going to be a big undertaking, but just thinking about the decadent food made her stomach rumble.

  She hit her first stumbling block early in the day, when she realized that she had lost her wonderful set of double-boilers in the house fire. Not too phased by this realization, she made a note to buy replacements while she was at the grocery store picking up the ingredients. The second issue arose when she discovered that they didn’t sell any double boilers at the local grocery store.

  “Well do you know where I could find some?” she asked.

  “The supermarket probably does,” the employee told her. “Sorry that we can’t help you.”

  “Oh, it’s not your fault,” she said. “I’ll still take the groceries. Thanks.”

  The supermarket, the only large store around, was a good half an hour’s drive down the state highway and out of town. Moira momentarily considered trying to melt the chocolate and cheese without a double boiler, but she decided to just make the trip. It would be useful to have one in the future.

  By the time she got home, she was almost two hours behind schedule and beginning to feel stressed. She still had a lot to do before her friends arrived, and she wanted everything to be perfect by the time they got there. Making the fondue sauces wouldn’t take too long, but she had a lot of preparing to do for the rest of the meal. She had to cube the beef into bite-sized pieces small enough to cook through easily, de-tail the shrimp, cut up the bananas, strawberries, and angel food cake for the chocolate fondue, and slice the baguette and sour dough breads into small chunks.

  She saved the table setting for last, and was behind enough that Martha arrived before she had even gotten started. Luckily, her friend offered to help, and by the time Denise pulled up, everything was perfect.

  “Wow,” the redheaded woman said when she walked into the kitchen. “When you invited me over for dinner, I wasn’t expecting this. It looks wonderful, Moira.”

  “I hope it tastes as good — I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had much of a chance to try anything. Let’s sit.”

  Out of the two dipping sauces and the wine fondue, the cheese sauce was Moira’s favorite. A mixture of Swiss and cheddar and a handful of her favorite spices,
each bite was bursting with flavor. She knew that she would be making the recipe again for her and David, and soon.

  “So, any news about the restaurant?” Martha asked as she tried to fish a slice of banana out of the chocolate sauce with her fondue fork.

  “Nothing yet,” Denise sighed. “The police are talking to everyone who works in my kitchen, and the health inspectors are doing a walk through. And of course, the press is having a field day… that woman keeps insisting that I killed the man on purpose, which is ridiculous since I didn’t even know the guy, but since she won’t let it go and the food did come out of my kitchen, the police are treating it as a suspicious death. It wouldn’t be so bad if my chef could go in, but he’s under investigation too since he made the dish himself. My other chef is on vacation, so the restaurant can’t open until one of us is cleared.”