Leaving Darrin to finish tidying up before the deli opened, Moira slipped into the kitchen and began to get the ingredients out for the soup and sandwich combo of the day. She began by peeling a few cloves of garlic which she then slid into a pot along with some butter. She turned the heat to just below medium, and then pulled some chicken breasts out of the fridge where they had been defrosting. While the garlic sizzled, she trimmed the fat from the breasts and seasoned them lightly with salt and pepper. They would bake to perfection in the oven while she made the garlic soup, and would be served on toasted Italian bread with a thin spread of fresh pesto and just a squeeze of lemon juice, the perfect complement to the slightly sweet flavor of the roasted garlic in the soup. The combo would be light, yet intensely flavorful, and Moira was eager to see how her customers liked it.
The familiar routine of cooking distracted her from her thoughts of the detective’s death, and helped her to feel better. No matter what else was going on in her life, she always had the deli to keep her focused and calm. It wasn’t until the soup was simmering softly away, the chicken breasts were out of the oven and chilling in the fridge, and a fresh batch of pesto had been made that she took a break from cooking and decided to spend some time up front. She knew that, by now, nearly everyone in town would have heard of the detective’s death, and of course would be wanting to talk about it. She would probably end up repeating her version of events more times than she could count, which she wasn’t looking forward to. She couldn’t avoid her customers forever, though, so, bracing herself, she decided to take over from Darrin at the register and brave the gossip storm alone.
“Welcome to Darling’s DELIcious Delights,” she said, trying not to let her exhaustion show in her voice. “Our special today is garlic soup with a chicken and pesto sandwich.”
“I’ll take a sandwich, no soup. And could I get cheese on it?” the man asked. He looked like he was around thirty, with short spiky hair and a worn leather coat that had seen better days. She thought he looked slightly familiar. Had he been at the retirement party? Or maybe he had been one of the onlookers at the Redwood Grill during David’s argument with Fitzgerald. She wasn’t sure.
“Sure; what kind?” Moira asked. “We’ve got cheddar, swiss, Monterey-”
“Cheddar,” he cut in. “Extra sharp.”
Feeling a bit snubbed, but not letting it show, she poked her head into the kitchen and told Darrin the special order. Then she turned back to the man who was busy looking at, not the food, but the wall of photos and posters that she and her employees had put up a few weeks ago.
“Can I get you anything else?” she asked. “A drink, maybe?”
“I’m fine,” he told her without turning around. A moment later, he looked over his shoulder and added, “Was it a fun party?” Moira looked up to see that he was staring at the flyer that gave the information for Fitzgerald’s retirement party. Her stomach dropped. She really should have taken that down the second she got here this morning.
“No,” she replied, walking out from behind the counter to yank the flyer off the wall. “The guest of honor passed away that evening.”
“Oh, how sad.” He looked at his watch and began tapping his foot impatiently. “What happened?”
“They think it was a suicide,” she told him brusquely. It was with relief that she saw Darrin bringing out the man’s food. “Your order’s ready. Thanks for stopping in.”
She was thankful that the next two customers didn’t mention anything about Detective Fitzgerald or the retirement party. They both ordered a cup of soup to go along with their groceries, and left chatting happily together. It was another gorgeous day outside, if a bit chillier than yesterday. Normally such nice spring weather would have put the deli owner in a good mood, but today she just couldn’t shake the bad feeling from the night before. Her temper brightened only slightly when she saw David’s familiar black car pull into the parking lot.
“How are you doing?” he asked as he walked into the store.
“I’ve been better,” Moira admitted. “I just can’t stop thinking about what happened last night.”
“Neither can I.” He paused, examining the selection of cheeses in the display case. His face showed that he was having some sort of internal battle, as if deciding whether to tell her something. After a moment he sighed and walked over to the register. He glanced around to make sure that there was no one in the front room of the deli but them, and then said, “If I tell you something, can you promise not to get yourself involved in whatever is going on?”
“What’s going on?” she asked, attempting to avoid promising anything that she might come to regret.
“Promise,” he insisted.
“I can’t promise anything until you tell me what it is.” She gazed up at him, hoping that he would understand. He sighed and shook his head.
“Fine, but don’t make me regret this.” He took a deep breath. “Detective Fitzgerald didn’t commit suicide. He was murdered.”
“Oh my goodness, how do you know?” She grabbed the counter as shock rushed through her. Someone had killed the detective on the day he was supposed to retire? Who could do such a thing?
“I stopped in at the Maple Creek police station to get a background check on someone for the case I’m working on,” he told her. “And I overheard the younger detective, Jefferson, talking about it with an officer. He said that Fitzgerald didn’t even have any pills in his stomach, but his body showed signs of suffocation. I’m guessing that they rushed the autopsy on him.”
Moira shuddered, not wanting to think about the gory details. Then she began to think about what the news meant; someone had murdered the detective who had served the town for nearly over forty years. Once this became public news, there would be turmoil. No officer would rest until the murderer was found, and there would likely be a flood of false tips called in to the police station. She understood why David had hesitated to tell her; the police wouldn’t be happy if this information got out before they were ready.
“I won’t tell anyone,” she promised. “I wouldn’t want to do anything to mess up their investigation.”
“That’s good, but it’s not what I asked,” he said. “I don’t want you involved, period.”
“What do you think I’m going to do?” she asked, somewhat miffed. “It’s not like I go looking for trouble. I don’t like being chased by murderers, or stumbling across dead bodies.”
“I know.” David sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “It’s just that trouble seems to have a way of finding you.”
“Well, I don’t see how I would get dragged into this case,” she said. “It has nothing to do with me, or the deli, or any of my employees.”
“Good,” he said. “I hope it stays that way.”
He still looked worried, so Moira decided to change the subject. She understood that he didn’t want her to be in danger, but it hurt that he thought that she would go looking for trouble. She had been cherishing the peace of the last couple of months, and besides, she would do anything to keep herself and her daughter away from whoever had killed Detective Fitzgerald.
“Do you want a bowl of soup and a sandwich?” she asked him. She gestured to the blackboard where the day’s special was written. “It’s a new combo, and it’s been quite the hit so far.”
“Sure.” He gave her a tired smile. “If you join me, we can talk about one of my new cases.”
“It’s a deal.” She flashed him a grin, then pushed through the door to the kitchen to get their food.
* * *
“So, tell me about this case,” she said, taking a bite of her sandwich. The strong flavors of basil, Romano cheese, and pine nuts burst in her mouth. The cold sandwich was a wonderful pairing with the warm garlicky soup. This was definitely one of her new favorite combos.
“Well, a few days ago, I was contacted by an elderly lady in Lake Marion who said her beloved dog had been stolen. Of course, at first I thought it must have just run away, but I
agreed to take the case anyway since it was obvious that she was distraught.” He paused for a spoonful of soup. “However, when she showed me her house and her yard, I realized that it was very unlikely that the dog ran away. The gate to her backyard is on a spring, so it closes automatically—couldn’t have been left open—and she only ever uses the back door to go in and out. All of her windows have screens on them, so the dog couldn’t have gotten out that way. It was a real mystery.”
“Did you solve it?” Moira asked, fascinated by the story. His life must be so much more interesting than hers, but more dangerous, too. “Did you find the dog?”
“Not yet,” he said with a grimace. “But the really interesting part comes a few days later, when a few other people came in complaining of stolen dogs. The total is up to five now, and I’m sure there are more that haven’t reported it yet.”
“So someone is out there stealing people’s pets? That’s terrible.” She hadn’t had a pet in a couple of years, but the dog that they had had while Candice was growing up had been a part of the family. It had been hard to let the fourteen-year-old Labrador go, and Moira and her daughter had both been too heartbroken to get another pet right away.
“I’ve been doing everything I can to find them, but haven’t had a lead so far,” he told her.
“I hope that nothing bad happens to those dogs,” she said. “People that hurt animals are especially terrible.”
“You can help me out on this if you want,” he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “This has a picture of each missing dog on it. If you see someone walking one of these dogs, or driving with it in a car, you should call me right away.”
“I’ll keep my eyes peeled,” she promised, taking the paper from him and unfolding it. Most of the missing dogs were purebreds. There was a picture of an apricot poodle, a chubby beagle, a gorgeous collie, a blue-eyed husky, and a little black mixed breed with long fur.
“Remember, call me. Don’t get involved.” He looked like he was already regretting giving her the paper, so she folded it up and slid it into her pocket.
“I’ll call,” she assured him. “Don’t worry, I want to stay as far away from criminals as possible.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The following day was one of Moira’s rare days off. Dante and Darrin were at the deli, and though she would be available if they needed her, both of them had assured her that they would be able to manage fine without her. It was never easy leaving the deli in someone else’s hands, but she trusted the young men, and knew that going too long without a day off wasn’t good for her.
She had a few things that she wanted to do during her free day; ironically, number one on her mental list was to figure out just how much more work would be required if they started opening the deli in time for breakfast. After waking up unusually early and grabbing a cup of steaming, rich Columbian coffee, she sat down at the dining room table with a pad of paper and her account book, and began looking at the numbers. She would definitely have to hire a new employee soon in any case, with Candice about to leave to start her own business. If she were to extend the deli’s hours, she would likely need to take on two new employees, which, along with the extra hours, would add up to quite a bit more that she would be paying in wages each month.
The question was, would they end up bringing in enough extra money through the sale of breakfast items to make up the difference? It was a hard question to answer, but after she did some math and played around with the existing schedules for a bit, she thought the answer might be yes. As long as they got at least as many people in for breakfast as they did for lunch most days, then the deli would end up making a profit, even after the additional expenses.
That wasn’t taking into account the extra hours of electricity, of course, or the cost of new packaging materials or appliances, but she was pretty sure that they would be able to make it work. She leaned back in her chair, impressed by what she had accomplished already that morning. All that was left was to find a couple of new suppliers, figure out if she was willing to commit the extra hours of her own time, and see if Dante was actually any good at making quiches.
“I thought I smelled coffee,” said Candice as she walked down the stairs. She paused to yawn and stretch, still in her pajamas. “Isn’t this your day off, Mom? Why do you look like you’re working?”
“Just figuring out some stuff for the deli.” Moira gulped down the last dregs of her now lukewarm coffee. “What are your plans for the day?” She knew that Candice wasn’t scheduled at the deli for the next two days, but hadn’t yet asked her daughter why she had requested the time off.
“I’m going over to Samantha’s house,” the young woman said. “We’re going shopping, and then I’m going to spend the night at her place. We’re planning on having a movie night.”
“Oh. That sounds nice.” She couldn’t help but feel somewhat disappointed that her daughter wouldn’t be around for the day. I’d better get used to being alone in this house, she thought. Soon enough, she’s going to live in another town. “Have a good time, sweetie.”
“I’m sure we will; she just got one of those new smart TVs that can play things in 3D.” Candice yawned again. “Any coffee left?”
A few hours later, after her daughter had gotten dressed and left, Moira found herself kneeling on the bathroom floor scrubbing at the tiles with a rag. She was rarely so bored as to have to entertain herself with cleaning, but today was one of those days where she wasn’t in the mood to watch television, she didn’t have anything good to read, and there were no pressing errands. She could always go into the deli and see if the boys needed any help, but she didn’t want to give up on having a day off quite yet. Surely she’d find the secret to relaxing soon.
It wasn’t until she began a load of laundry that she found the folded-up paper with the pictures of the missing dogs in her pocket. She gazed at the somewhat blurry photos of the pooches for a few moments, an idea slowly forming in her mind. It was just after noon, so she had the whole afternoon in front of her. Instead of puttering around the house, why not go into town and do some window shopping, while keeping an eye out for the missing pets? She had promised David that she wouldn’t go looking for trouble and she would be mostly keeping her promise. After all, a day spent out in town could hardly be considered looking for trouble, and if she just happened to see one of the missing dogs, she might be able to help the private investigator with his case and reunite the beloved pets with their frantic owners.
Her mind made up, and feeling much better knowing that she had something to keep her occupied for a few hours at least, Moira finished putting the load of laundry into the washer, then headed upstairs to get ready to go out. The house still felt oddly quiet without Candice there, so to combat the silence, she turned the radio on for company as she did her hair and makeup. She had never liked living alone, and the thought that Candice would be moving out for good in just a few short months made her melancholy.
Maybe I should adopt a dog, she thought, her mind still on the missing pets that David was trying to find. It would be nice to have someone to take care of once Candice moves out, and I would be able to give an animal in need a loving home. Then again, if she did decide to expand the deli’s hours, she might not have time for a pet. She heaved a sigh and leaned towards the mirror to fix a smudge in her eyeliner. She was always either working too hard or nearly going out of her mind with boredom. She really had to find a middle ground, and fast, or she would lose her mind.
She parked her car at the deli, partially out of habit, and partially because it wouldn’t make sense to pay for a spot along the street when she could use her own business’s parking lot for free. Resisting the urge to poke her head in the store and see how things were going, she locked the car, swung her purse over her shoulder, and made her way down the sidewalk towards the rest of the shops that lined Main Street.
Window shopping quickly became real shopping when she saw a cute blouse in th
e window of Another Man’s Treasure, the secondhand shop that was run by an elderly couple. She stopped in and greeted Mrs. Zimmermann, then spent the next few minutes browsing. She spent the better part of an hour like that, weaving in and out of the small businesses on Main Street and greeting the owners by name when she knew them, and learning them when she didn’t. Most people were familiar faces: they were her regulars, the people that came into the deli every week to pick up their special order of cheese, or to grab the deli’s daily combo for lunch.
When clouds began to rush in, obscuring the sun and lending a sharp chill the air, she decided that it was time to head back to her car. She had kept her eyes peeled for any sign of the missing dogs, but hadn’t seen any that even somewhat resembled the pictures that David had given her. Of course the thief probably isn’t going to be stupid enough to prance around town in the middle of the day with stolen animals, she thought. David had probably only asked her to help out with this case to keep her away from the mystery surrounding Detective Fitzgerald’s death. Why does he want me to stay away from that case so badly? she wondered.
She rounded the corner, and was surprised to see David’s car parked next to hers in the deli’s parking lot. What was he doing here? Maybe he had news on the missing dogs. After pausing by her car to drop off her purchases, she let herself into the deli to find the private investigator leaning against the counter near the register and chatting with Darrin.
“Hey, Ms. D,” her employee said, looking up as she came in. “How’s your day off going?”
“Well, I got some shopping done,” she said. “But it looks like I still ended up coming in.”
“I saw your car,” David said. “I stopped in to say hi, but Darrin told me that you weren’t working today.”
“I only came in because I saw that you were here, David. I wasn’t planning on stopping in, I promise,” she told Darrin with a laugh. “I’m perfectly capable of going a day without working.” Unless you count the finances and planning I did this morning, she thought guiltily. But I’ll just keep that to myself.
Chicken Pesto Murder: Book 5 in The Darling Deli Series Page 3
