“I’ll do whatever I can to help,” he promised, laying a hand over hers. She smiled up at him, grateful beyond words for his kindness and support.
When they got back to Moira’s apartment, she took Maverick out for a quick walk then told Candice they were there. Her daughter’s car was still at the hotel where Mike had been found, and since the hotel was on the way to David’s house, it would be easier for her to give them both a ride at the same time.
Candice appeared at the doorway to Moira’s bedroom with her purse. She was no longer crying, but her eyes were still puffy and her pale face showed the lack of sleep from the night before. She greeted David in a subdued voice, then ran a hand over Maverick’s head in farewell and mumbled something about going to wait in the car.
“You can keep staying here if you want, honey,” Moira said.
“No, I think I’ll feel better at home,” she replied quietly. “I can get cleaned up, change my clothes, and spend some time down in the toy store. I need something to distract myself.” Moira nodded in understanding.
“We’ll be right out. Think about if you want to stop anywhere for lunch on the way there.”
Once the front door was shut, she and David traded a glance. He had never had kids, but he could imagine how hard it was for her to see her normally cheerful daughter so grief stricken.
“She was the one to find him?” he asked. Moira nodded.
“She and a housekeeper at the hotel,” she told him. “I would give anything to be able to go back and protect her from that.”
“I know, and I’m sure she does too.” David wrapped her in a quick, comforting hug before pulling the door open for her. “Let’s go and see what we can do to make her feel better.”
Candice, however, wasn’t in the mood for cheering up. Declining their offers to take her out to eat, she insisted on going back to her apartment.
“At least let me order you a pizza,” Moira insisted. “I’ll pay for it over the phone, and they’ll deliver it right to your door. You need to eat something.” She was relieved when her daughter relented, and she ordered up Candice’s favorite; a thick crust with bacon, pineapple, and mushrooms. She wished that there was more that she could do, but her daughter seemed adamant about having alone time, and she would have to respect that.
“Where to now?” David asked when they got back in the car.
“Well, don’t you want to go home?” she asked.
“I think it’s better if we talked about what we’re going to do,” he said. “We have a killer to catch.”
“All right.” She smiled at him. “You’ve got no idea how much your help means to me. Do you want to talk over lunch, or just go to your office?”
“Let’s get takeout and then go to my office,” he suggested. “I could really use some Chinese right now.”
With the scents of lo mein and General Tso’s chicken filling the car, Moira pulled into the small parking lot next to David’s office. She was surprised by how hungry she’d become from the smell of the food. She hadn’t had much of an appetite since getting the news about Mike the day before.
“I’ve got the drinks,” he told her, grabbing the two-liter bottle of soda they’d bought. “If you get the food, I’ll go unlock the door.”
Even though she had known David for months, she hadn’t spent nearly as much time at his office as he had spent at the deli. She looked around the welcoming space and set the food down on an end table while he scooped the pile of papers off his desk and onto a chair.
“I’ve got paper plates somewhere,” he muttered, going into the other room to search for them. Moira sat down, taking the food out and opening the lids so the steaming noodles and chicken would have a chance to cool.
“Here we go: paper plates, napkins, and plastic cups. I forgot I had those—they must be left over from our picnic,” David said a few minutes later. They dug in, eating in silence until they were full.
“So,” David said, leaning back and idly using his fork to play with a noodle. “Tell me everything that happened from the second Jefferson showed up.”
She relayed her afternoon and evening from the day before, trying to remember everything that Detective Jefferson had said in their conversation. It was harder than she’d thought it would be; her mind had been on Candice while the detective had been talking to her and she hardly remembered some of his questions.
“He didn’t seem happy that I had no alibi for most of the day,” she told David. “Other than the hour I spent with the real estate agent, and the twenty minutes or so spent with Darrin at the deli, I wasn’t really around anyone for most of the day. It was a super slow day at the deli, so there aren’t even any regular customers I can think of that might be able to verify that I was there after Darrin left.”
“Real estate agent?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “Have you decided to sell what’s left of your old house?”
“Oh, no. Though I probably will put the property on the market. I forgot to tell you—with everything else that’s been happening, no wonder it slipped my mind—but I found this wonderful little stone house for sale about halfway between Maple Creek and Lake Marion,” she said.
“That sounds nice. It would be the perfect place for you to live. You’d be right between the deli and Candice.”
“I would love to buy it, but I think it’s going to be too expensive,” she admitted. “I’m still waiting on that insurance money, and since they’re still investigating the fire, I don’t think I can put the property on the market just yet.”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to figure something out,” he said. “From what I’ve seen, you’re very resourceful.”
“Thanks.” She gave a small smile at the compliment, then sobered as her thoughts returned to the rest of their conversation. “What do you think I should do about Detective Jefferson?”
“Just let him investigate. Don’t get directly involved. I’ll ask some questions, but you should stay on the fringes for this case.” He drained the last of the soda in his cup, then steepled his fingers. “Let’s start at the top. Can you think of anyone who would want to kill Mike?”
“No,” she said. “I haven’t spoken to him much over the years, and when we did talk, we kept it impersonal. I know that he lived in southern California, and worked as some sort of consultant for an insurance company. He had a girlfriend, but he told me that they’d broken up recently.” She shrugged. “That’s about it. Candice would know more, but I don’t want to question her right now. Not until she’s ready.”
“Do you think the ex-girlfriend might have had motive to kill him?” David asked.
“I’ve got no idea. I mean, I know he can be a jerk, but even at his worst I never had the urge to do him in. Not seriously, anyway. Plus, his girlfriend lives in California. That’s a bit far to come to kill someone, especially since he was supposed to be flying back last night.”
“Matters of the heart aren’t always logical,” he said, resting his chin on his hand as he thought. “Anyone else that you can think of? Did he wrong any other women here in Maple Creek before he moved away?”
“No… the woman he had an affair with lives in a town about half an hour south of here. She had no idea he was married, and was very apologetic when she found out. We even had coffee once. She didn’t seem like a cold-blooded killer to me.” She frowned, thinking back to the horrible months when she had had to come to terms with her husband’s disloyalty.
“Was he well off?” David asked, moving away from the subject of other women when he saw the look in her eyes. “Did he have fancy clothing, carry an expensive wallet, wear an expensive watch… anything that might have made him a target for a robbery?”
“Not that I can remember.” She furrowed her brow, trying to remember what Mike had been wearing Saturday. “Actually, he was wearing a pretty nice watch. I suppose he makes, uh, made, a fair amount of money.”
“If you can give me some personal information about him—his full name, birthdate, even his
social security number if you know it—I’ll do some digging and see if I can find anything promising,” he said. “For all we know, he could have a criminal record a mile long or owe someone a lot of money. You never know what you’ll find when you start digging into someone’s life.”
Moira gave him the information along with everything else she could remember about where he had been working the past few years. She wished now that she had paid more attention when Candice was talking about her father; any piece of information could end up being the one that would lead them to the person who had murdered her ex-husband. She could only hope that whoever had done it wasn’t going to target the rest of her family next.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Over the next few days, Moira found herself more and more distracted, to the point of giving one of her regular customers the wrong order. Mike’s death was frighteningly close to home, and the little information she had about what had happened just wasn’t enough. She was loath to push her daughter for more details, as Candice was still understandably distraught over what had happened. She wished she could be more of a comfort to her daughter, but she didn’t think her daughter felt very comfortable discussing Mike with her mother. She wasn’t able to share in many of Candice’s good memories of her father; over the past ten years she had been doing her best to forget her past with Mike and move forward. Discussing old times wasn’t very comfortable for either of them.
“I wish Mike had never come back to visit,” she grumbled to herself while scrubbing at a particularly persistent spot on one of the bistro tables. If he had just stayed in California, chances were he would still be alive.
“Here, Ms. D,” Meg said from behind her, making Moira jump. “Let me do that. We’re running low on soup in the back, and I don’t know how to make this recipe.”
“Thanks, Meg.” She sighed and straightened up, feeling bad that her sour mood was even affecting her employees. None of them had been anything but helpful and supportive, even when she was distracted or short of temper. She really couldn’t have asked for a better group of people to work at the deli. Even Meg, the newest employee, was fitting right in. She had started dating Dante shortly after being hired, but Moira hadn’t had any complaints about their relationship affecting their work.
The soup of the day was a bit more foreign than her usual concoctions. The light, sour tamarind base stock paired with bok choy and tofu was a healthy selection, and one that tasted surprisingly good paired with the sweeter flavor of the Asian milk bread sandwich. It didn’t take her long to get a new pot of the soup simmering away, but she was reluctant to go back out and deal with customers right away. Meg could use more practice at the register anyway, she told herself. I might as well get a head start on the lentils. The lentils, like the cannellini beans, would need to soak overnight to be ready for soup the next day.
After the lentils had been rinsed and poured into a pot of cool water to begin soaking, she did the few dishes that were piled next to the sink, took a couple of loaves of bread from the freezer to defrost for the sandwiches the next day, and double-checked the coming week’s schedule to make sure no one was scheduled for an unfair number of hours. As Moira looked around the spotless, freshly organized kitchen and realized she couldn’t find a single thing left to do, she knew she had stalled long enough. It was time to go back out and face the world.
“How can I help you?” she asked a few minutes later, back behind the counter even though she still didn’t feel like herself. Her mind kept wandering, no matter how hard she tried to force herself to concentrate. If I feel this bad, I can’t even imagine how Candice must feel, she thought.
“Um, I guess I’ll have a bowl of your soup,” the young man said. He was wearing a tee-shirt emblazoned with the name of some band that she thought Candice might have listened to years ago, and his hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his cargo pants. His gaze followed Meg as she helped an elderly man figure out which type of smoked turkey he had bought on his last visit to the deli. Moira thought the young man looked vaguely familiar, but couldn’t make her foggy mind concentrate enough to place him. He probably works at the grocery store or something¸ she thought.
“Just a moment,” she told him. “I’ll go get your order.”
When she came back with the soup in a to-go bowl, Meg was at the register ringing up the elderly man she had been helping. The younger man was slouched against the wall, waiting for his turn to pay. Moira handed his soup to Meg, who rang him up as soon as her first customer was done.
“Will that be cash or credit?” she asked.
“Cash, I guess.” The young man pulled a wallet out of his pocket and began rummaging around inside for the correct bills. Moira, who had begun wiping down the countertop, paused, the rag dropping from her hand. On the young man’s wrist was a gold watch, just like the one she had seen on Mike’s wrist the day before he had died. David’s words came back to her.
“Did he have fancy clothing, carry an expensive wallet, wear an expensive watch… anything that might have made him a target for a robbery?”
Was it possible that this watch, which looked so out of place on the bored young man’s wrist, didn’t just look like Mike’s watch, but actually was his watch? Was she selling soup to her ex-husband’s murderer?
Frozen in spot, Moira could only watch as Meg finished up the sale and the man left, soup in hand. She was mentally cursing herself for not stopping him, but what could she do? She couldn’t exactly ask him if he was a cold-blooded killer, and if he was, then trying to detain him might put her and Meg in danger. Oh, how I wish he had paid with a credit card, she thought as she watched him walk away. At least with a credit card payment, she would have his name. There was no way to track someone who paid with cash.
“Are you all right, Ms. D?” Meg asked. Moira glanced over to see her employee looking at her strangely. She realized she must look quite odd, standing as if rooted to the spot and staring after her latest customer.
“I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face. “Just lost in thought. It’s been a long few days. You know how it is.”
She made a hurried excuse and ducked back into the kitchen, where she quickly texted David telling him what she had just seen. Her body shook in disbelief. Was it really possible that her husband’s killer had just walked out of her store? Despite her shock, her mind felt clearer than it had for days. It was far better to be doing something to find the murderer, as opposed to just sitting around and waiting for someone else to solve the crime.
In the off chance that the young man might come back, Moira spent the rest of the day up front with Meg. She managed to greet each customer with a smile, while all the while keeping her eyes peeled for the young man in the concert tee. She couldn’t believe she had let him get away before; if he did come back for some reason, she vowed to come up with an excuse to find out his name, at the very least. I wish I could remember where I’ve seen him before, she thought. If I do, I might be able to track him down.
“Thanks for stopping by,” she said a few hours later to the last customer of the day.
“You have the freshest food in town,” said Beverly, the blonde woman who was renting a room from Martha. She clutched the paper bag to her chest. “I haven’t even been able to find anywhere else that knows what arugula is, let alone who will make me a custom arugula and kale salad.”
“If you’re still going to be in town this coming weekend, you should stop by the farmers market,” Moira told her with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll be able to find plenty of garden-fresh fruits and veggies there. It’s where I get a lot of the deli’s fresh greens.”
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be around,” the other woman admitted. “I miss home, but I’m still not done dealing with the mess my ex left behind.” Her face momentarily twisted in anger, then smoothed out.
“I hope you two figure things out,” she told the blonde woman. “Feel free to stop by if you ever need a sympathetic ear.”
&nbs
p; Moira watched Beverly leave, not entirely sure how she felt about the woman. She seemed nice enough, even if she did occasionally say something that made it seem as if she was disdainful of the small town. If she’s still around next week, maybe I should invite her to coffee with Martha and Denise, Moira thought. Denise and I both have plenty of experience with cheating husbands; she might appreciate the chance to vent.
Deciding to talk to Martha about including Beverly in their next coffee date, Moira began the familiar task of closing the deli for the evening. She let Meg go once the kitchen was clean, and spent the last few minutes sweeping up the dining area by herself. She was glad that it was summer; in winter, when the days were shorter, night would have long since fallen. But right now, during the last weeks of August, there was still another hour or two of sunlight left after the deli closed—plenty of time for her to get back to the apartment and take Maverick to the park before settling in for the night.
She was locking the deli’s front door when she felt her cell phone buzz in the pocket of her khaki capris. She pulled it out, expecting to see David’s name on the caller ID, but instead saw Detective Jefferson’s. Her heart skipped a beat. Had the police found out something new about Mike’s death? Her keys still in the lock, she answered the phone.
“Ms. Darling, can you come down to the station?” said the familiar voice of the detective.
“I’m just closing up the deli,” she told him. “I can be there in just a few minutes.” She finished locking up, then paused. Why did he call me “Ms. Darling”? she wondered. After she had helped catch the man who had murdered his partner, the detective had become much friendlier to her, even using her first name when they ran into each other around town.
“Perfect. Thank you for being so cooperative.” He hung up, leaving Moira with a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She walked to her car. Before she started it, she sent a second text to David. Something about the detective’s voice had warned her that she might have just moved to the top of the police’s list of suspects.
Tomato Basil Murder: Book 7 in The Darling Deli Series Page 4
