“I don’t know. I’m sure they looked. It was chilly and wet that morning, so whoever it was might have been wearing gloves. Anyway, this subject is a dead horse as far as I’m concerned. David and I have gone over it and over it. I’d rather think about something else. How are the two of you doing? Denise, how is Logan?”
Logan was her nephew, who had come to live with her after his mother had died. Now he worked part time for Candice at the candy shop while he did online college courses from his home.
“He’s all right, I suppose. I haven’t seen as much of him as I normally do, but I’m looking forward to spending some extra time with him this weekend. He’s been quieter than usual. I think he’s worried about finals.”
Moira chuckled. “I remember those. Those are probably the most stressful weeks of a kid’s life. After this, he’ll have finished his freshman year?”
Her friend nodded. “He can do one more year at the online school he’s currently at. Once he passes that, he’ll have an associate’s degree that should transfer to his choice of schools. I’m sure he’ll want to move away. But I’ll miss him. It’s been nice having someone else in the house.”
“I remember how lonely I was when Candice moved out, before David and I got married. It was weird living in such a quiet house. It got better after I got Maverick.”
“I can’t have a dog, not with my schedule,” Denise said with a sigh. “Maybe one day. For now, I’ll just keep concentrating on the Grill.”
“Speaking of dogs,” Martha said. “I might take a trip this summer. I’d probably be gone for about a week. Do you think you could watch Diamond for me?”
“Of course,” Moira said. She enjoyed having her friend’s little black-and-white mutt around. “She’s no trouble. Just let me know when she’ll be coming.”
“Thanks. I’ll pay you back somehow.”
“You know you don’t have to.”
“Oh, but I should.”
They continued back and forth for a couple of minutes before Denise checked the time and excused herself, saying that she had an appointment with her hairdresser. Moira and Martha left shortly afterward. It wasn’t until the deli owner was in her car that she realized that she had forgotten to ask her friends if either had told anyone else the code to the deli’s alarm.
CHAPTER TWELVE
* * *
Moira was halfway home when her phone rang. She glanced at it, saw that the call was from David, and pulled over to answer it.
“Thank goodness, I was worried it would go to voicemail,” David said. “Are you still with the ladies?”
“No, I’m on my way home,” she told him. “Do you need me to pick something up? I don’t mind going into town first. We do need some more milk and—”
“Can you stay away from the house for a few hours?”
“Hours? David, what’s going on?”
“I promise I’ll tell you everything later. Could you maybe go over to Martha’s house for a little bit?”
“I don’t know if she’s going straight home or not, I could maybe go to Candice’s, but why? What’s happening?”
“Good, go there. I love you. I’ll see you in an hour or two.”
With that, he hung up. Moira stared at her phone, frustrated and confused. It wasn’t like David to give her orders like that. Part of her wanted to refuse. She had never liked being told what to do.
The more rational part told her to listen to David. She trusted her husband, and if he had a reason to keep her away from the house, it must be a good one. If he didn’t have a good explanation when he came to find her, then she could be mad at him.
With a sigh, she unlocked her phone and dialed her daughter’s number.
Candice and her fiancé, Eli, had recently bought an old farmhouse. Most of the land was given over to crops and cattle. The fields were leased out to another local farmer, and someone else was renting the space for their cows. David was also leasing a portion of the land for his microbrewery. Moira had a feeling that one of the reasons her daughter had bought the land was so her stepfather wouldn’t have to worry about the new owners canceling the lease. Candice could be surprisingly thoughtful that way.
Then again, the fact that the house and land had sold for a fraction of its true value probably helped. After having three owners in under two years, two of whom had met a violent end, the property was not the hottest in the local market.
Right now, Candice was fixing the house up. If she wanted to sell it after a few years, Moira thought she would likely make quite a profit on it. She had suspected for a while now that her daughter was becoming a better businesswoman than she was herself.
She parked in front of the farmhouse next to her daughter’s rental vehicle. Her silver convertible was still at the police impound lot, after it had been stolen and used in a murder only a few weeks ago. She knew it must be driving the young woman crazy not to have her nice car, but the rental car was a better vehicle for the somewhat bumpy and occasionally muddy dirt road that she now lived on.
At her knock, she heard someone raise their voice to tell her to come on in. She opened the door to walk into a living room that smelled deliciously of cooking food.
The room itself had been transformed. Just a few weeks ago, the walls had been covered with an ugly, old floral wallpaper; it probably was nice once, but it had been yellowing and peeling with age the last time Moira had seen it. Her daughter and Eli had stripped the wallpaper and painted the walls a warm, brown color. The furniture was sparse, but what was there was new and comfortable looking. A calico cat was curled up on the back of the sofa. He opened one eye to peer at her before falling back asleep.
“We’re in the kitchen,” Candice shouted unnecessarily—Moira could hear the water running from her spot by the door.
She walked down the hallway and found her daughter scrubbing a mixing bowl in the sink. Eli had an oven mitt on and was peering into the oven. The kitchen itself was older, and hadn’t yet benefited from a makeover. Still, it had the comfortable feel of a grandmother’s kitchen, warm and much-used and smelling of cookies.
“Sorry for inviting myself over on the spur of the moment,” Moira said. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”
“No, we weren’t going to have anyone over or anything if that’s what you mean. We just decided to treat ourselves to a nice lunch before we get to work. We’re painting the upstairs bathroom today.”
“I’m happy to help with that if you’d like. I’m not sure how long I’ll be here. What’s cooking? It smells amazing.”
“We’ve got beef shish kabobs, some rice in the cooker over there, and chocolate chip cookies for dessert. Oh, there’s also a pint of ice cream in the fridge. Eli made it with the cream from the cows. The farmer is happy to pay some of his rent with milk, and we can advertise that the cream we use to make the ice cream came from cows on our own property. Feel free to help yourself. Do you want a kabob? We have more ingredients in the fridge.”
“I just ate lunch, but thanks anyway. I may help myself to some of that ice cream and a cookie when they’re ready though.”
“Go ahead.” Her daughter flashed her a quick grin. “So, what’s going on? You just said you needed to be away from home for a while. Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “David called me while I was on my way back from brunch and told me to stay away from home. He said he’ll meet me here in a little bit.”
“Odd.”
The three of them puzzled over it for a little bit before the conversation moved back to the renovations on the house. Moira wondered aloud how her daughter had time to do so much work on the house and also run the candy shop at the same time.
“That’s thanks to Logan,” the young woman said. “He’s been an immense help. He seems to like working there, and he’s responsible and smart enough to handle most problems on his own.”
“Good employees are always a blessing,” Moira said. “You’d better keep him there as long a
s you can. Hiring new people is never a fun process.”
“Yeah, he’s great. I think Mother’s Day morning is the only time he ever failed to do something he had promised, but it turned out to be a good thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I had asked him to stop by the deli and drop off a letter from me and some neat little chocolates I made shaped like Maverick—I gave those to you that evening, right? I wanted them to be an extra surprise that morning, but it didn’t work out—anyway, he overslept so he never made it out there. I’m glad, otherwise he might have run into the killer. Sorry, I told him about that spare key that Allison made. I didn’t think you’d mind, since he already has a key to your house for when he stops by to let the dogs out.”
“That’s why you looked so worried at first,” Moira realized. “Until I described the dead man to you. You thought it might be him.”
“Yeah. He texted me a few minutes after, telling me that he had just woken up. He felt really bad, but I think it was fate or something.” Her daughter laughed. “I probably sound crazy, but it really was lucky that he slept in.”
“Definitely. I’m glad he didn’t get hurt.”
They heard the sound of tires on gravel, and Moira went to look out the window. David was pulling up. At last, she might get some answers. She hurried out the front door and met him as he turned off his car.
“What’s going on?” she asked, too curious for the niceties.
“It’s a bit of a story,” he said. “I’ll tell you inside.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
* * *
“About two hours ago our neighbor from across the street called me to let me know he saw someone park along the road and walk up our driveway,” David began. They were all seated around the kitchen table, and three pairs of eyes were glued to him.
“I had asked him a few days ago to let me know if he saw anyone suspicious on our property—I told him we thought someone had been trespassing. I thought it would be good just to have extra eyes on the house, after what we found out.”
“What do you mean?” Candice asked. Moira realized she still hadn’t told her daughter about the man who had been stalking her.
“I’ll catch you up later,” she promised.
“Anyway,” David said, “my first thought was you. I didn’t want you to show up after brunch and be surprised by someone, especially someone who might be the killer. I was at the office, so I knew it would take me a few minutes to get packed up and leave. That’s why I asked you to come here. I didn’t want to worry you if it turned out to be nothing, but I’d never forgive myself if someone hurt you and I could have done something to prevent it.”
“Next time you should tell me what’s going on,” Moira admonished. “I don’t want to be kept in the dark.”
“I will,” he said. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to act fast. I thought that this guy might have something to do with the stalker and the murder, and I didn’t want to risk him leaving before the police got there.”
“Stalker?” Candice’s eyes were wide.
“After David finishes his story, I’ll tell you. I promise,” Moira repeated. “Go on.”
“Well, I called the police and told them what the neighbor told me. We got to the house at about the same time. The man was still there, looking in our windows if you believe it. Jefferson arrested him on the spot.”
“For trespassing?” Moira asked. “Can he do that? For all we know he was a sales man.”
“He didn’t arrest him for trespassing. He arrested him because the man was carrying the driver’s license of the man who was killed in the deli. It fell out of his wallet when he was getting his own ID out.”
Moira was stunned. “So… you found the killer?”
“I don’t know yet. But… you know the man who was arrested.” He pulled something up on his phone and handed it to her. Her eyes widened at the photo of the driver’s license. The man in the photo was Mikey, the regular who had been asking too many questions about the murder.
“I wouldn’t have recognized him if you hadn’t sent me his name,” her husband continued. “Between the dead man’s identification and what you texted me the other day, they had plenty of reason to bring him in.”
“I hope he confesses to everything. I want to know why all of this happened. I hate having so many questions unanswered.”
“He’ll confess,” David said. His voice was grim, not triumphant like she had been expecting. “That’s the other thing. He told Jefferson that he would tell the police everything… but only if you were there to hear it.”
To Moira, the answer was obvious. Of course she would go and hear the man’s confession. David, on the other hand, seemed to think it was a bad idea.
“I don’t trust him,” he said. “None of this makes any sense. We don’t know what he might have up his sleeve.”
“David,” she said, “it makes sense for me to go. If he’s willing to confess to everything, it will save everybody a lot of time. Plus, I want to know what he has to say. This is a personal matter, and I don’t want to be the last to hear about it.”
He gave in after just a few minutes. She thought that he was just as curious as she was. She accepted his offer to drive her to the police station—Jefferson wanted them there now, before the man changed his mind—and swore to Candice that she would fill her in as soon as she came back.
The detective met them at the doors. He looked alert and anxious, and she thought that he was probably eager to get the show on the road before the man inside came to his senses.
“Thank you for agreeing to this, Ms. Darling,” he said. “Don’t be concerned about anything. The suspect will remain handcuffed the entire time, and you will never be alone with him. I’m going to be right next to you. I advise you not to speak to him, understand? Just listen to what he has to say. We’ll get him to sign the confession, and you can be on your way.”
“I’m not worried,” she said. It was the truth. She was curious and eager to get to the bottom of all of this. She trusted that Jefferson would protect her.
“Well, okay.” He looked skeptical, but led her towards the interview room without saying anything else. When they reached the door and David made to follow them in, Jefferson put a hand out.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come in. You might frighten the man, and if he decides not to confess there’s nothing we can do. It will take months if this goes to trial, and he may end up getting released without charges if we can’t dig up the right evidence. I don’t want to do anything to make him think better of confessing, or to make him reconsider getting a lawyer.”
Moira met her husband’s eyes. She could tell that he didn’t want to let her go alone. She gave him a look that she hoped was reassuring, and saw him sigh.
“Be careful,” he said.
“Of course.”
Then Jefferson pulled the door open and whisked her into the room.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
* * *
They took a seat across the table from Mikey. Officer Li, the nice woman who had spoken to Moira right after she had found the body, was standing guard near him. She shot Moira a smile, which the deli owner returned before turning her attention to the man in handcuffs.
He looked the same as he had for the past few weeks, since he first started coming into the deli. He was plump, balding, and had a face that looked open and friendly. Unless she was mistaken, he looked relieved to see her.
“All right, Mr. Bennington, she’s here. Just like you requested. Will you talk now?”
Mikey nodded. He focused his gaze on Moira. “Sorry for having them drag you here,” he said. “But I thought you deserved answers too, and I know how slow the police can be to release information like this.”
He looked like he was waiting for an answer, but the deli owner remembered the detective’s request that she not speak to him. Instead she simply nodded her head.
“Let�
��s start with why you were on Ms. Darling’s property,” Jefferson said.
“Well, first we should probably start with the fact that I’m a private investigator,” Mikey offered.
All three of them stared at him.
“Licensed?” Jefferson asked at last.
“What?”
“All private investigators have to be licensed in the state of Michigan.”
“I just take cases for people I know. I didn’t know I needed a license for that.”
“Do you get paid to do it?”
“Yes.”
Jefferson ran his hand across his face. “Yeah, that’s not how it works. But let’s move on for now. What were you doing at Ms. Darling’s house?”
“The case I’m working on right now is for this lady I know. Her son is—was—special. I mean, he was high functioning and could take care of himself, but was also very manipulative. The thing is, he’s always been terrible at interacting with people. Women especially. He gets… weird.”
“It sounds like you knew him personally,” Jefferson said.
“Yeah. We went to school together. It was a while ago, but I remembered him because he was one of the only people I was friends with. Neither of us were very popular back then. Anyway, when his mom called me saying her son was missing I agreed to help her.”
“He’s the man whose ID you had in your wallet? Eric Bryce Smith Jr?”
“Yes. That’s him. He lived with his mom, you see. From what she says he never could hold down a job, but I think he just never really had a motivation to get out on his own. She babied him. Anyway, she called me and I went over. She said he had packed some clothes and left without saying a word. She just went into the basement—that’s where his bedroom was—to bring him breakfast and he was gone.”
“How’d you get his ID?” Jefferson asked.
Chicken Club Murder (The Darling Deli Series Book 21) Page 5
