“Right this way, ma’am.” Moira followed the officer as he led her down one of Maple Creek Police Department’s hallways. She couldn’t believe that an hour ago, she had been asleep in her bed. Now she was about to be questioned by the police for the third time, and she hadn’t even had her coffee yet.
“Through here.” The officer opened a door for her. As Moira walked past him, he added, “It will probably be a few minutes.” It was a small room, with blank walls and a simple square table that had a few metal chairs set up around it. There was no two-way mirror, but she could see a camera on the ceiling. She pulled out one of the chairs and sat down, keeping her coat on since the room was chilly. She hoped Candice wasn’t too worried; she would call her daughter the second she got out of here. Then she would see if Danielle could meet them at the deli—it looked like they might need to have another staff meeting. If Henry Devou’s death was somehow linked to the deli, her employees deserved to know.
She quickly became bored just sitting at the table, so she began planning new soup recipes. She tried to come up with a few new soup and sandwich combos each month, to keep things interesting for her customers, and herself. During the busy summer months, she usually had a couple of different soups available, but there usually weren’t enough customers during the winter to have more than one pot of soup boiling away at a time. Of course, she offered prepackaged versions of some of her most popular soups occasionally, and offered catering services when someone asked her, though she didn’t advertise them.
Maybe I can do some sort of beef stew next, Moira thought. Hearty recipes sold best during the cold winter months, and stews were always popular. Yes, beef stew, with lots of carrots, pearl onions, and rosemary. Should I do potatoes or dumplings? Beef Dumpling Stew sounded good to her, but she would have to play around with the dumpling recipe a little bit and add some seasonal spices.
She was so involved with imagining what flavors would make the stew just perfect, that she jumped when the door to the interview room opened. Detective Fitzgerald and Detective Jefferson walked in, the latter carrying two cups of coffee. He placed one in front of her, the rich scent going to her head and reminding her that she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink yet.
“I can get you sugar or cream to go with that, if you’d like,” said the detective.
“No, thanks.” Moira wrapped her hand around the warm mug. While she didn’t usually like the taste of black coffee, she knew that the bitter taste would help keep her alert.
“I’m sorry that we asked you to come down to the station so early, but we didn’t want to disturb you while you were at work.” Detective Jefferson sat down across from her, and Detective Fitzgerald sat next to him. The older detective nodded in greeting, but said nothing.
“Do you know why you’re here?” Jefferson asked.
“No, not really,” she admitted. “One of the officers that picked me up said that you wanted to ask me more questions. I’m guessing it has something to do with Henry Devou, but I don’t know why or what I could possibly do to help.”
“When is the last time you saw Devou, Ms. Darling?” The detective took a sip of his own coffee, gazing at her calmly as he waited for her to answer his question.
“Um, I’m not sure.” She thought back, trying to remember when she had last had a run-in with her competitor. “A few months ago, I guess? During the fair in June. We both had tables for the food contest.”
“Did you win?”
“No, he did.” She smiled at the memory of the fair. It had been hot out, but with a gentle breeze. She and Darrin had been working the table; Candice had been out of town with some of her friends, and she hadn’t hired Danielle yet. In fact, she remembered seeing Danielle at the Soup Shoppe’s table. Even though she hadn’t won the contest, it had been a fun experience, and one that she was eager to repeat next year.
“How did you feel about that?” he asked.
“Oh, it was fun. It was a fair contest, and his soup was great,” she admitted.
“And you haven’t seen him since?”
“I don’t think so. I mean, I might have glimpsed him at the grocery store, or while I was out driving. It’s a small town.” She shrugged. “But I haven’t spoken to him since the fair.”
“Not even on the night of his death? Saturday night?”
“No. Like I told you before, I bought groceries and then I went home.”
“Did Devou come into your restaurant before you left?”
“He never comes to the deli. Saturday night wasn’t any different.” Moira frowned. “What is this all about?”
“Ms. Darling, does your restaurant do deliveries?” Jefferson asked, ignoring her question.
“We don’t deliver,” she said. “We do catering sometimes, but only after hours. It’s not something we advertise.” The detective raised an eyebrow.
“Well, did you cater to Henry Devou’s house that evening?” he asked.
“We haven’t had any catering jobs since November. You can check our schedule.” Sighing, she asked, “Will you please tell me why I’m in here? I really don’t have any idea what’s going on.”
“A takeout container from your deli was found at Henry Devou’s house, Ms. Darling. It had the remnants of soup from your store in it.”
“I have no idea why he would have bought soup from the deli, but I just don’t understand what that has to do with me or my employees.”
“Henry Devou was poisoned, Ms. Darling,” the other detective, Fitzgerald cut in. “And your soup was the last thing that he ate.”
CHAPTER 8
Moira was shocked speechless. Henry Devou had been poisoned? Who would have killed him? She had no doubt that the man had enemies, but things like this just didn’t happen in Maple Creek. It took her a moment to wrap her mind around the fact that someone that she knew had been murdered. Even though she didn’t like him very much—he was rude, ambitious, and didn’t seem to care who he stepped on his way to the top – it was a shock. Finally, she realized the real implications of what the detective had just said.
“Wait, are you saying that you think I poisoned him?”
“We’re just gathering information right now, Ms. Darling.” Jefferson made a calming motion with his hands. “We’re still investigating the crime. You’re just a person of interest right now. I’m going to have to ask you not to leave town without talking to me first. As long as you cooperate with us, all of this will be over soon enough. Is that understood?” Moira nodded, still in shock.
“Am I… am I under arrest?” she asked in a quiet voice.
“No ma’am, not at this time.”
“Can I go then? My daughter… she’ll be worried about me.” Moira was sick as the thought of what she was going to tell Candice. Henry Devou had been murdered, and the police were pointing fingers at her store.
“Just a few more questions, Ms. Darling, and then you can be on your way.”
Moira went straight from the police station to the deli, where she was relieved to find Candice and Darrin already preparing for the day. Candice took one look at her mother’s face and rushed over.
“What is it, Mom? What happened?” she asked. Darrin followed slowly behind her, concern creasing his forehead. Moira felt tears prick her eyes at the sight of their worried faces. Her world might be falling apart around her, but at least she still had the love and support of her family and friends.
She waited until Danielle arrived to tell the three of them her story. They were silent as she spoke, with Candice chewing on her lower lip and Darrin’s frown getting deeper and deeper. Danielle was pale, and kept closing her eyes as if in disbelief. Moira knew that what she was saying might affect all of them. If the police seriously thought that Henry Devou had been poisoned by something from the deli, then all of them would be considered suspects.
“I just don’t know what to do,” she said finally. “None of it makes any sense. Why would Henry Devou have a container of soup from here? And why would he die r
ight after eating it?”
“Did they say that they had actually found poison in the soup?” Darrin asked.
“Well, no,” she said. “They said they were still investigating. I just don’t understand why he was eating our soup in the first place. He was always so rude about everything we sold. He wouldn’t even taste it at the fair this summer.” She paused. “Do any of you remember seeing him in here?” Each of her employees shook their heads. Moira frowned, trying to think of a plausible explanation for how her competitor died eating a bowl of her Soup of the Day.
“Maybe it was planted there by whoever actually killed him,” Candice said after a moment. Moira glanced at her daughter. Normally she wouldn’t even consider something like that; like she kept telling herself, those sorts of things just didn’t happen in Maple Creek. But the truth was, someone had been murdered. It felt like anything might be true now.
“It makes sense,” her daughter continued. “The whole town knows that you’ve been losing customers since his business began growing. That gives you a reason to kill him, at least as far as some people are concerned.”
Darrin nodded. “Motive.”
“And now the police will be busy investigating all of us instead of looking into whoever actually did it,” her daughter continued. “You should get a lawyer, Mom.”
“I don’t know… wouldn’t that make me look guilty?” Moira asked. Candice shrugged.
“One of my friends from college, his dad is a lawyer. I can send him a message I guess.” Her daughter glanced at her phone. “But Jason won’t be up yet. He works night shifts.”
“Just ask him if he thinks I should get a lawyer right now, or wait for this to blow over.” Moira sighed. “I just want this whole thing to be over.”
“Ms. D, I’ve got an idea,” Darrin cut in. “I know a guy in Lake Marion who does private detective work. Like, private investigator stuff. Since the police are busy investigating you, he might be able to find out who actually killed the guy.”
“I’m not supposed to leave town without letting the police know,” she said with a grimace.
“I’m sure he’d be willing to meet you in Maple Creek,” he replied.
“Do you really think I’ll need him? Wouldn’t it be better just to let the police do their thing?” She didn’t like the idea of doing anything that would draw more attention to her. She was innocent. Surely the police investigating Henry Devou’s murder would be able to see that.
“You know I didn’t grow up around here, Ms. D. My family didn’t live in the best part of the city. I’ve seen people get arrested for things that they didn’t do. I’m sure things are different in a small town like this, but it still can’t hurt to have someone on your side looking into things, can it?” he asked.
“I guess not. Alright, I’ll give your friend a call.” Moira looked around at her employees and daughter gratefully. “Thank you, everyone. It really means a lot that you’re trying to help me out so—Danielle, are you alright?” The young woman was visibly shaking, and her face was pale.
“I don’t feel very good,” she mumbled.
“Oh sweetie, I’m sorry. You should have said something earlier. Go on and head home. We’ll manage from here.” She was never one to make her employees work if they were sick, and this wasn’t even a day that Danielle was scheduled. Moira felt bad for being so involved in her story that she hadn’t noticed how ill the young woman looked.
Danielle nodded and rose. She gathered her purse and coat, and a moment later was out the door and walking towards her small blue car. Darrin was watching her go with a slight frown on his face, but his expression cleared when Candice spoke again.
“Don’t worry, Mom. We’ll figure this out.” She gave her mother a reassuring smile. “I’m going to go make sure everything is ready for the day. We’re supposed to open in ten minutes.” Moira glanced at the clock, shocked to see how much time had passed. It was indeed almost time for the deli to open, and she hadn’t even written the special down on the chalkboard yet.
“Well, we’d better get to work,” she said. “I’ll take care of the register. I want our customers to see that we have nothing to hide.”
CHAPTER 9
At first, Moira wasn’t worried when no customers came in. It was a chilly, gray day with occasional snow flurries. The roads were bad, and she didn’t blame her customers for wanting to stay home. But when four o’clock came and their only customers had been an elderly man who stopped in every week for a fresh log of salami and a wedge of smoked cheddar cheese and a couple driving through Maple Creek on their way to the Mackinac Bridge, she began to wonder if something else was going on.
“Hey, Darrin,” she said when he stepped out of the kitchen for his break. “You can head home if you want to. It doesn’t make sense to have all three of us here when it’s so slow.”
“Alright, Ms. D. Thanks. Oh, here’s that guy’s number, the private investigator that I was telling you about.” He took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and set it on the counter next to her. “His name is David Morris. He taught criminal justice at my college for a semester.”
“I’ll think about it.” She gave a small laugh. “I’m going to feel pretty silly if it turns out that I’m overreacting. They could catch the real murderer tomorrow.”
Darrin had only been gone for a few minutes when Candice poked her head out of the kitchen. “Hey, Mom, you should see this.” She had her phone out, and a worried expression on her face.
“What is it?” Moira moved next to her daughter so she could look over her shoulder. The phone’s screen showed an article from the local news website. Local Deli Serves Up More Than Soup, read the headline.
“I think I know why no one’s coming in today,” her daughter said.
“How do they know all of this?” Moira asked after reading through the article, which detailed how a bowl of soup from Darling’s DELIcious Delights had been the last thing that Henry Devou had eaten before he died. While the article didn’t directly say that Moira had poisoned him, the implication was obvious. “Aren’t the police supposed to keep this sort of information secret, at least until they have proof?”
“No idea,” Candice said. “But if people think you poisoned someone, no one’s going to come in.”
“I think that maybe you and Darrin are right,” she told her daughter at last. “We do need outside help. The sooner this gets solved the better. The store can’t survive many more days like this.” The dull day was interrupted only once. Moira was sitting at the counter when the front door slammed open, and an angry woman strode in. She was maybe a decade older than Moira, with long hair that had gone mostly gray, and a stern face that looked slightly familiar, although she couldn’t place it.
“Hello,” she began. “Welcome to-“
“How dare you?” the woman cut her off. “You murderer! How can you sit there with a smile on your face while my brother is dead by your hand?” Her voice was high and loud with emotion. She approached the counter, shaking a stiff finger in Moira’s face. “If I didn’t know that the police were doing everything in their power to bring you in, I would deal with you myself. You horrible, horrible woman, I hope you rot in a cell for the rest of your life.”
Moira sat stunned, through this tirade. The verbal attack was so sudden and so harsh that she was frozen. As the woman took a deep breath to fuel her next rage-filled sentences, Candice ran out of the kitchen with her cell phone in hand.
“What’s going on here?” she asked, wide-eyed. The woman turned to her and began yelling again, even louder. This attack on her daughter snapped Moira out of it. She snatched Candice’s phone out of her hand and held it up like a weapon.
“Get out of my store this second, or I’m calling the police,” she said. The woman glared and scowled at both of them, but reluctantly turned and left. Trading a glance with her daughter, she saw that Candice was just as stunned as she was. What on earth had just happened? It looked like she really did need some h
elp.
CHAPTER 10
“Thanks for meeting me here.” David Morris looked up as an attractive woman who looked to be about his own age, approached the table. Her bright green eyes were intelligent and curious as she took him in. He found that he was glad that he had decided to wear his trench coat, even though it was a bit clichéd. It fit him well.
“Not a problem, I need more excuses to get out of town.” He extended a hand. “David Morris, private investigator.”
She shook his hand, and then introduced herself, “Moira Darling, deli owner.” She gave him a quick smile.
“So, what can I do for you, Ms. Darling?” he asked. Before she answered him, she looked around to make sure no one that knew her was nearby. They were meeting at a chain coffee shop right on the edge of Maple Creek, the halfway point between their two towns. As soon as she seemed confident that no one was listening in, she leaned forward and began her story.
“…and now no one is coming to the deli, and the police think I killed someone,” she finished.
“Did you?” he asked.
“No!” Moira blushed and lowered her voice. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. But how could you think that?”
“I’m just making sure,” he said. “Have you spoken to anyone else about this?”
“Just my employees and my daughter,” she told him.
“And what exactly is it that you want me to do?” He took a sip of his coffee as he waited for her to answer. Some people seemed to think that private investigators had superpowers, and expected him to do impossible things.
Pastrami Murder: Book One in The Darling Deli Series Page 3
