Hearty Homestyle Murder: Book 9 in The Darling Deli Series

by Patti Benning

  She pulled up outside of Darrin’s apartment, still fueled by the anger that had caused her to leave the deli in the first place. Sure enough, his truck was parked in the lot right in front of his building. Not even half an hour ago he had lied to her when she called him to double-check that he hadn’t come home early. He had told her point blank that he was still in Wisconsin with his family. She wanted to confront him before the police did and see what he had to say for himself when they were face to face.

  After parking her car, she marched straight up the stairs and knocked on his door. After waiting a few minutes, she decided that he probably wasn’t going to answer. He had probably seen through the peephole just how angry she was. Good, she thought. I hope he feels bad. She would wait him out, and when he finally gave in and decided to talk to her, she would do her best to figure out once and for all if he had murdered Reuben Willis. She didn’t think he would hurt her even if he was the killer; they had known each other for too long for her to be afraid.

  “Darrin,” she called out. “I’m not going away. Just come and talk to me.” Nothing but silence met her ears.

  With a sigh she reached out and tried the doorknob. She was surprised when it turned in her hand. The door opened easily under her touch. Where was Darrin? If he was trying so hard to avoid her, why had he left the door unlocked? Maybe he wasn’t in the apartment at all, she thought, embarrassed. He could have stepped out to go talk to a neighbor or go on a walk. She hesitated for only a moment before stepping into the apartment and shutting the door behind her. She locked it, hoping to give herself some sort of advance warning if he returned while she was still there, and began looking around.

  His apartment was tidy, obviously the home of someone who was naturally neat. A hamster in a cage sat next to the television in the living room, and when she came near it sat up on its wheel, tiny nose twitching back and forth as it examined her. A bag of hamster food was sitting next to its cage with a note taped to it.

  Feed him half a bowl once a day and check his water. Hold him if you want, but he may bite.

  “Odd,” she muttered. Who was the note for? Maybe he was watching someone else’s pet. Or… she looked again at the writing. It looked like Darrin’s. If this was his hamster, it made sense that he had asked somebody to stop by and feed it. Maybe the pet sitter had left the door unlocked, and this had all been some sort of big misunderstanding on her part. But then why was his truck parked outside?

  After a quick walk-through of the apartment she confirmed that he wasn’t there. She hadn’t seen anything that pointed towards his guilt, but had seen nothing to prove that he was innocent either. What was she looking for? A bottle with a skull and crossbones and the word “cyanide” printed on the side of it? No, Darrin was smart. If he had killed someone, he wouldn’t leave the evidence out in plain sight.

  So where should I look? she wondered. If he did keep anything around that could prove he was the killer, where would it be? What would it be? She thought back to the day of the murder at the fair. What had he been wearing? It probably didn’t matter—he would have washed the clothes by now. Feeling somewhat deflated as weariness replaced her anger, she decided that without being able to talk to him, there wouldn’t be much that she could do. She decided she would take a quick look around his kitchen, the obvious place for anyone with a passion for cooking to hide poison, and leave.

  At first she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. There were all the normal spices, condiments, and dry goods. His cupboard held an extra bottle of ketchup, a grinder of sea salt, a small container of chicken bouillon… and a little brown glass jar. Her eyes widened the moment that she saw it. She recognized it instantly from the fair—peeled-off label and all. Could this be it? Evidence that he had indeed poisoned Reuben Willis?

  Wait, she thought, suddenly confused. Didn’t David say that they had found the vial that the poison was in? How could that be if the vial is sitting right here? She reached hesitantly for the vial and paused only a moment before opening it. Before she could convince herself how foolish she was being she raised the open glass vial to her nose and sniffed.

  Hot sauce. All that was in the vial was hot sauce. No bitter almond smell like the detective had warned her about. Hot sauce. She felt a wave of relief wash over her. Darrin wasn’t the murderer. All he had been doing that day was adding some of his special hot sauce to the soup. There were still unanswered questions, like why he had lied to her about the trip, but at least she knew he wasn’t a killer, not unless he had two glass jars, identical down to the peeled-off label.

  She felt embarrassed at the realization that she had trespassed in an innocent man’s apartment. Careful to replace the small container of hot sauce where she left it, she retraced her steps, said goodbye to the hamster, and left. She felt lucky that Darrin hadn’t come back while she was gone—what would he have said if he had found her in his apartment rifling through his kitchen cupboards?

  On her way out to her car, her phone rang.

  “Hey, Ms. D., I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be back sometime in the early afternoon tomorrow, so I can take the evening shift if you need me to. The ferry leaves at eight in the morning, and it’ll take my sister another half hour to drive me home, so I should be back by about one at the latest.”

  “The ferry?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Danni picked me up and drove me over to the ferry the other day. It’s a lot fast than driving all the way around Lake Michigan to get to Wisconsin.”

  “Danni?” She sounded like some sort of poorly trained parrot, but this conversation was befuddling.

  “Yeah, my sister. She came to the deli once. I don’t think you were there, though. Anyway, do you think you’ll need me to take that shift?”

  “Um, yeah, if you’re up to it. Thanks.”

  She hung up, shaking her head at how quickly she had been jumping to conclusions this whole week. Darrin’s car was in the parking lot because his sister had given him a ride. And she would bet good money that the person he had been eating with at the Redwood Grill had been his sister, too. Darrin was just what he had appeared to be, and what she always thought he was: an honest, trustworthy young man. He had never done anything that deserved suspicion, yet she had jumped to all sorts of conclusions. When had she become so untrusting?

  No more jumping to conclusions, she promised herself. From now on, if I think someone is being dishonest, I need to confront them before assuming anything.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “So you’re sure he’s innocent?” David asked.

  “Yes,” Moira said, giddy with relief. “Everything adds up. I should have trusted him to begin with. Darrin wouldn’t ever hurt anyone.”

  “We still don’t know who the real killer is,” he pointed out.

  Moira shrugged. “I’m sure the police will catch them eventually. I’m just glad that this doesn’t have anything to do with the deli or the people I care about. After the fiasco with Candice earlier this summer, I want to stay as far away from criminals as I can get. I still have nightmares about her being kidnapped.”

  “I don’t blame you. I hope things stay settled down for you, Moira, I really do.” He took a bite of his salad and looked around. “It was nice of Denise to invite us here for lunch. I’m glad she decided to extend her hours—the place is packed already. Do you think the extra hours—and extra menu items—will be enough to keep this place going?”

  “I don’t know, but I hope so.” She glanced around too, looking for her friend. Denise was across the room, chatting with another pair of guests and looking happier than Moira had seen her in a long time. “For her sake, I really do.”

  “Besides, if the Grill closes down, where will we go to eat?” He grinned at her. “It would just be a disaster all around.”

  “I know. We might actually have to discover new restaurants. The horror.” Chuckling, she let her gaze sweep across the room again, wondering when her friend would make her way over to their table.
She really wanted to congratulate Denise on how well her restaurant seemed to be doing with its new hours.

  She didn’t see the tall redhead. Instead, her eyes landed on another familiar face. Mayor Willis was seated just a few seats away, and across from him was Sandy Keller, who was wearing a short dress and a big smile, and appeared to be flirting with him.

  “What is Mayor Willis doing on a date with Gordon Smith’s fiancée?” she asked David in a low voice. He followed her gaze.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, a puzzled expression appearing on his face. “Are you talking about the guy who was our previous mayor? That Gordon Smith? He’s already married.”

  “No he isn’t,” Moira said, frowning. “He’s engaged to Sandy Keller. She was in my store just the other day to ask if I could cater their wedding reception.”

  “Moira, he’s been married for fifteen years. I should know; I used to date his wife’s sister. His wife, Meredith, is very sick. It’s possible that he’s seeing someone behind her back, I suppose.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would Sandy tell me that they’re engaged if they aren’t? And why is Sandy here with the mayor?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea.” David shook his head. “It really isn’t our business, either. It isn’t a crime to cheat on your spouse.”

  Moira sighed. “You’re right. I’m here to enjoy your company and support my friend’s restaurant—I shouldn’t be gossiping about a woman who has only ever been perfectly nice to me.” She smiled and turned her gaze away from the mayor and Sandy to show that her attention was on David alone.

  Try as she might, she couldn’t keep her eyes from flicking back to the cheating couple occasionally. Why would she lie to me about being engaged to Gordon? she wondered. What will she do if she sees me? Should I walk over and say hi just to see what she does?

  When she saw the mayor get up and head towards the restrooms, she considered that very action. She was opening her mouth to excuse herself from the table when she saw Sandy glance around and then carefully remove a small vial from her purse, pour the contents into the mayor’s cup of soup, then return the vial to her bag.

  Moira frowned, her brain trying to figure out what she had just seen. David was saying something about a boating trip when she turned to face him with wide eyes.

  “I think Sandy just poisoned the mayor,” she told him in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

  “What?” He blinked at her, thrown off course by her unexpected announcement.

  “She poured something in his soup when he got up to go to the bathroom,” she explained. “I think it was poison!”

  “Why on earth would Sandy want to kill the mayor?” he asked. “Are you sure she wasn’t just adding some salt or pepper to his food?”

  “She poured something from a vial that she took out of her purse,” she told him desperately. They mayor was already on his way back from the bathroom. In just a few moments he would sit down and begin eating. “Oh my goodness, she must have poisoned Reuben too.”

  David still looked skeptical, and Moira was running out of time. Mayor Willis was already lowering himself into his seat. I can’t just let him die. I have to do something, she thought. Taking a deep breath, she stood up and walked over to the other table, calling out the mayor’s name as she approached. A look of annoyance flicked across Sandy’s face as she turned to look at Moira.

  “Imagine running into the two of you here,” the deli owner said forcing a cheerful expression onto her face. “How’s Gordon doing, Sandy? His wife still hanging in there?”

  Sandy blushed, but her embarrassment quickly turned to anger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

  “Ms. Darling, what a pleasant surprise,” Mayor Willis said after shooting Sandy a puzzled look. “I’ve been meaning to stop by the deli and extend my apologies to you. I wasn’t thinking clearly after my son’s passing, and I shouldn’t have spoken to you as I did. Give my secretary a call tomorrow and I’ll pay whatever I owe you for the food.”

  “Oh, thank you, Mayor. I can’t imagine what you must have been going through. Trust me, there are no hard feelings from me or anyone at the deli.” She felt flustered by his apology. It was so unexpected that she forgot for a moment why she had walked over. When she saw they mayor lift a spoonful of soup to his lips, a flash of fear went through her. Without thinking, she knocked it out of his hand.

  It seemed like the entire restaurant went silent as the mayor’s spoon clattered to the floor. Moira felt a blush rise on her cheeks. What had she done? What if she had been mistaken about the poison?

  “What the—” the stunned mayor said. He rubbed at the splotches of soup that had spattered onto his nice shirt with a napkin. “That was very unprofessional, Ms. Darling. I admit that I shouldn’t have treated you the way that I did after the fair, but that’s no reason to get violent.”

  “The soup was poisoned,” she blurted out. “I saw her do it.” She pointed at Sandy, whose eyes had widened.

  “That’s ridiculous,” she spluttered. “Why would I poison the mayor?”

  “What’s going on here?” a familiar voice said. Moira turned to see the familiar form of Denise standing at her elbow. David was just a step behind her. He was staring between Moira and Sandy with a thoughtful look on his face.

  “She attacked me for no reason,” the angry mayor said, still dabbing at his shirt. His face was reddening, though Moira didn’t know if it was out of anger or embarrassment at the whole restaurant being witness to the incident.

  “I knocked a spoon out of his hand,” she explained turning to her friend. “I saw Sandy pour something into his soup. I think it was poison. I was trying to save his life.”

  Denise passed a hand over her face, shooting Moira a peeved look. The deli owner met her gaze firmly, hoping her friend would believe her.

  “This sounds like something for the police to sort out,” she said at last with a sigh. “I’m going to ask everyone to sit tight. José, please go and place a call to the police station and explain our situation. Their number is to the left of the phone in the kitchen.” The young waiter who had been listening in nodded, and hurried towards the back of the restaurant.

  “You can’t hold me here,” Sandy said. She made a move to stand up, but David stepped forward and put a hand on the back of her chair.

  “Actually, I can,” he said.

  “Look, I didn’t poison the soup. This woman is obviously insane.” She gestured at Moira. “I bet she’s the one who poisoned that guy at the fair in the first place, and now she’s trying to blame it on me.”

  “That guy was my son,” the mayor said sharply. He put his napkin down and considered his soup. “You say you didn’t poison this soup, Sandy. If that’s true, then you won’t have a problem eating a bite or two of it, would you?”

  Sandy fell silent, staring at the bowl of soup with a suddenly worried expression. “I don’t like cream of mushroom,” she said quietly after a moment. “So no thanks.”

  “Just take one bite,” the mayor said, pushing the bowl towards her. “And I’ll tell everyone that this was just a misunderstanding, and we’ll all walk away from here, no need for the police.”

  Sandy bit her lower lip and closed her eyes for a long moment. When she opened them, she reached for her spoon. Her hand shaking, she reached towards the soup, only to let the spoon drop to the table at the last moment.

  “I can’t,” she said, her voice quivering. “I-I’m allergic to mushrooms. I might die.” Tears sprung to her eyes and she reached for her purse. David tensed.

  “Keep your hands where I can see them,” he said.

  “I just need a tissue,” she whispered.

  At that moment, José reappeared. “The police are on their way,” he announced. Moira glanced up at him, and saw David do the same. Sandy took advantage of their momentary distraction and withdrew a small revolver from her purse. Before anyone could move, she cocked the gun and pointed it at the mayor.


  “Gordon gave me this so I could defend myself,” she said. “But I think he would be just as happy to know that I’m using it to kill you, Mayor Willis. I may go to jail, but at least my Gordy will get the chance to be mayor again. And when I get out, we’ll get married and run this town together.”

  The mayor stared at the gun, his face pale. Moira was too horrified to look away. Just as Sandy’s finger was beginning to tighten on the trigger, David lunged forward and grabbed at her arm. After that, everything seemed to happen at once.

  The gun went off with a loud bang that left Moira’s ears ringing. It felt like someone had punched her in the arm, and she spun sideways. Thrown off balance, she stumbled and hit her head against the corner of a table. She heard screaming all around her and saw people running past, some rushing for the entrance, others heading towards the kitchen.

  She struggled to sit up. Where was the mayor? Had David saved him? Where was Sandy? She blinked, her vision blurry and the side of her head aching from where it had hit the table. Her left arm was wet for some reason, and it wasn’t until she looked over and saw blood that she realized she must have been shot.

  “Moira! Moira! Are you okay?” David’s face swam into view. He was crouching over her. That’s odd, Moira thought. I thought I was sitting up. Why am I slouched down so far?

  “I’m fine,” she managed to say. The pain in her arm was starting to register now, and it was making it hard to think. “Sandy?”

  “I don’t know, I lost her in the crowd. Moira, you’re bleeding. We have to get you to the hospital.”

  “Gotta catch Sandy,” she mumbled. Why was everything getting dark? It was still lunchtime, wasn’t it?

  The last thing she remembered was David scooping her into his arms before she blacked out.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “I can’t believe it’s really over,” she said, wrapping her hands around the mug of herbal tea that David handed her. It was late, but she didn’t want to sleep yet. She was still too horrified by the events of the night to have any hope of getting a decent night’s rest. At least the pain pills were working. The pain in her head had subsided to a distant throb, and her arm only hurt if she moved it too quickly. “Thanks for sticking around.”