Wrapped in Murder (The Darling Deli Series Book 19)

by Patti Benning

For the first few hours, none of her customers mentioned anything about the death at the brewery, for which she was glad. Her early morning customers were mostly people on their way to work or school, so it was rare for anyone to have the time to stay and chat. It wasn’t until she began serving lunch that she noticed that something was off.

  “Excuse me, can I help you?” she asked a couple who were huddled by the drink fridge. They had been conversing in low voices for a few minutes.

  “Sorry, we were just wondering if you sold any other types of beer? I don’t want my money to support a company like Big Black Dog Brewery.”

  “What do you mean?” Moira asked, her lips tightening.

  “Well, the guy who owns the company killed his competitor, didn’t he? I saw it on the news this morning.”

  “No, he did not,” she snapped. “You misheard. They haven’t found the killer yet, but it certainly wasn’t my husband.”

  The man took a step backwards, the look on his face somewhere between surprised and embarrassed. “I think we’re going to go somewhere else for lunch,” he said.

  Moira watched the couple leave, then sat down heavily on the stool behind the register. She hadn’t expected people to think David was the killer. This was worse than she had thought. She knew her husband hadn’t done it, of course, but if she thought about it rationally, she could see why people would make that mistake. He had been the first one there, and had arrived alone, and of course anyone who was into locally made beer would know that Snethkamp was a major competitor.

  This keeps getting worse and worse, she thought. Poor David. He just opened the brewery, and it looks like it might fail before it even had a chance to really begin. She felt terrible for her husband, but couldn’t think of anything to do to help. He was in Lake Marion now, working on a case. She thought about bringing him lunch when she left the deli that afternoon, but discarded the idea. He was going to be following a businessman for part of the day, and she had no way of knowing whether he would be in his office or not. Besides, he would probably grab something to eat while he was out.

  The bell on the deli’s front door rang, announcing another customer. Moira looked up with a smile on her face, determined to do what she could to convince her customers that everything was normal. Not everyone knew that the deli and the brewery were owned by a husband and wife, but she hadn’t been doing anything to keep that fact a secret. Those who did know, might see any unusual behavior on her part as further evidence that David had been involved in the man’s death.

  “Welcome to — oh, it’s you.”

  Detective Jefferson raised an eyebrow. “It’s nice to see you, too.”

  “Sorry, it’s just that the last thing I want to think about right now is the murder. I guess that’s what you’re here for?”

  He nodded. “Do you have time to talk?”

  “Alright,” she said with a sigh. “It’s not very busy right now, but we’ll start getting the lunch rush in about half an hour. I’ll have to get back to work then.”

  “It shouldn’t take that long. Do you want to go into the back, or…?”

  “Out here is fine. Do you want a cup of coffee? I think I need to grab a second one for myself.”

  Once seated at the table, Detective Jefferson didn’t waste any time getting right to the point. “Can you tell me everything that happened yesterday morning? And I mean everything, including your interactions with David before he left for the brewery.”

  “Detective Jefferson, you can’t really think that he, did it? You know David, he’s helped you out on multiple cases in the past —”

  He raised a hand to cut her off. “I’m just trying to figure out what happened. These questions are going to be asked, and I thought you would prefer that I was the one that did it.”

  She sighed, knowing he was right. She could see how bad it looked. It would be best to be open and honest with the police, and do what she could to help the investigation. If she seemed reluctant to talk about something, it would look bad for David. After taking a sip of her coffee to steady herself, she thought back to the morning before and told the detective what she could remember.

  “Thank you, Ms. Darling. Now, we still have the question of the missing key. Did you happen to find it?”

  Moira shook her head. She and David had searched for the key for hours when they got home, but it hadn’t been anywhere.

  “Since the door was locked when David got to the brewery, I think it’s safe to assume that whoever killed our victim had a key. Since he’s missing his key, that doesn’t narrow down our list of suspects much — anyone could have stolen it.” He sighed and rubbed his temples. “This is never the kind of case I want to be on. I don’t like having David at the center of my investigation any more than you do. Now, before I go, is there anything else that you can think of to tell me?”

  Karissa, she thought, but she couldn’t bring herself to say her sister-in-law’s name. She was pretty much David’s only family and she didn’t know if her husband would forgive her if she falsely accused the woman.

  “No,” she said after the slightest hesitation. “I don’t think there’s anything.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  * * *

  David leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs under his desk, staring at his computer. He couldn’t seem to focus on this case. He had the pictures of his client’s husband meeting another woman, but figuring out how to phrase his report to her was beyond him. Snethkamp’s death at the brewery was all he could think about. He knew he was a suspect, but that didn’t bother him nearly as much as the murder itself did.

  Someone had been killed on his property, in his brewery, and he couldn’t help feeling somehow responsible for it. He kicked himself for not getting those cameras up sooner. Over the past few weeks, he had often felt that between maintaining his hours working as a private investigator and managing things at the brewery, he had bitten off more than he could chew. Neglecting to put up a security system just wasn’t like him. It was a good thing he had Karissa to help him, or he might really have been in over his head. And hiring Jimmy should help, too.

  Jimmy… he thought. He’s the obvious suspect. He hated to think that the bright young man could have killed someone, but he knew that the simplest answer was usually the right one. If Jimmy had stopped in to check on the machines, and Snethkamp had happened to break in at the same time, well, he wouldn’t put it past his competitor to try to cover his tracks by attacking the young employee. And if Jimmy had been forced to defend himself who could blame him? He just wished the young man would come out in the open with what he had done.

  If he was wrong and it wasn’t Jimmy, then he didn’t know who it was. It was a real mystery, but while he enjoyed solving them for other people, he liked his own life to be completely empty of unanswered questions.

  I’m not going to get anything done right now, he thought. I’ve been staring at this computer screen for half an hour. Ms. Steiner will just have to wait to get the bad news. He pushed his chair back from the desk and glanced outside to gauge the weather before whistling Maverick over to him and clipping on his leash. He had spent the morning following Mr. Steiner, and the dog had kept him company. He didn’t bring the German shepherd with him to work every day, but it was always nice to have him along on the occasions that he did.

  “Let’s head out, bud,” he said. “We’ll stop by the brewery, then see if we can catch your mom before she leaves the deli this afternoon.”

  David parked in his usual spot just outside the brewery’s entrance. Seeing the bright yellow crime scene tape on the door was like a punch to the gut. He hated that something so terrible had happened here, and he hated the fact that his wife had seen it. He tried so hard to protect her, but whatever he did never seemed to be quite enough.

  “Let’s go, Mav,” he said, letting the dog out of the car. He removed the tape and let himself into the building, walking straight to his office. He had a record in the top drawer of everyone he
had met with over the past week. If his key had been stolen, one of them must have done it. He was still kicking himself for not realizing it was missing sooner. That was one thing that puzzled him… if Jimmy was the killer, why was David’s key missing? The young farmhand had a key of his own, so there would have been no reason for him to take David’s. He and Moira had gone through the house from top to bottom, and had even looked in the yard and in his car for the key. He was certain by now that it hadn’t somehow managed to fall off his key chain. None of his other keys were missing, and none of the key rings were bent — it was as if the key had just vanished.

  As he poured over his appointment book, David found himself wishing that his sister was there. Karissa had a great memory for faces, and she might be able to think of something that he was missing. His sister had been oddly distant since the murder, and he wondered if she was mad at him — if she blamed him for what had happened, somehow. He knew that she cared deeply about the brewery, maybe even more deeply than he did.

  Maybe Moira can talk to her, he thought. The two women seemed to get along well, and Karissa might be willing to share something with Moira even if she wouldn’t tell him about it.

  A knock at the door startled him, and he put the appointment book down. Who could that be? No one knew he was here. He glanced down at Maverick. The dog’s ears were pricked up, but his tail was wagging slowly and he didn’t look alarmed. It must be someone that they knew.

  “Mr. Anderson,” he said when he opened the door. His landlord gave him an apologetic smile.

  “Sorry if I interrupted something, but I saw your car parked out front and I wanted to talk to you.”

  “I was just going over some things; nothing that can’t wait. Come on in. Can I get you some water?” he asked, gesturing to the mini fridge in the corner of his office. “A beer?”

  “No, thanks. I won’t be long. I just wanted to ask how things are going. I know it hasn’t been long, but do you have any word from the police on when you might reopen?”

  David realized what this visit was about. In addition to the monthly rent he paid the man, he also gave him a percentage of the microbrewery’s profits. With the brewery shut down, neither of them would be getting any extra money from sales.

  “Even if the police said I could start production again tomorrow, I don’t know if I would,” he told the other man. “I don’t know if it would be safe to do so when someone has access to the brewery, and I don’t know who it is. I have to change the locks, upgrade the security system… What if next time they decide to put poison into one of the tanks? I can’t put people in danger like that.”

  “Of course not,” said Anderson. He sighed. “Look, if you don’t think you’re going to be able to start things up again, I’ll let you out of the lease early. I’ll even buy the equipment back, for a percentage of what you paid. I feel bad taking your money if you aren’t bringing anything in.”

  “Thanks for the offer,” David said. “I’ll keep it in mind if things get bad, but right now I’m hoping that we’ll find the guy who did this and reopen within the month.”

  He couldn’t help but consider Anderson’s offer after the other man left. He didn’t want it to come to that, but he supposed it was good to know he had a way out if things started looking bad. What would Moira think if I sold everything off? he wondered. She built the deli from the ground up… and I can’t even keep my brewery operating for a month. He resolved to keep trying for as long as he could. Moira had always supported his plans for the microbrewery, and he didn’t want to let her down.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  * * *

  “Are you sure we should be going out tonight?” Moira asked, looking over at her husband. “I know the lease is costing you money, and you’ve been taking fewer cases since you opened the brewery…”

  “It’s fine,” he said, somewhat sharply. He gave her an apologetic smile and added, “We can easily afford dinner and to continue paying what I owe to Anderson, even with my taking fewer cases. The lease isn’t really that much each month. Even if the brewery doesn’t open for a few months, we’ll be fine, and I can always pick up more cases if it seems like it will be a while. One nice thing about being the only private investigator in the area is that my clients don’t really have anyone else to go to if they want someone to do the footwork.”

  “True,” Moira said. She gave a small chuckle. “My husband is in such demand. A different woman might be jealous.”

  “I don’t exactly make many friends in my line of work. My clients are nice enough, until I hand them an envelope full of photos of their spouses being unfaithful. Grief and anger do funny things to people.”

  “I can imagine,” she said. “I don’t envy that part of your job at all. You see the worst in people.”

  “It can be hard not to let it get to me,” he admitted. “But I’ve always got you and the dogs to come home to, and you show me the good in people.”

  Moira beamed at him as they pulled into the Redwood Grill’s parking lot. The grill was the nicest restaurant in town, and was owned by one of her closest friends, Denise Donovan. Despite her concerns, she was looking forward to the dinner. It had been five days since the murder, and they were still no closer to knowing who the killer was than they had been in the first hour. She knew that Detective Jefferson had questioned Jimmy, the farmhand, but that line of investigation hadn’t gone anywhere. David had gone in for questioning two more times himself. She tried not to hold it against Jefferson — he was just doing his job, after all — but it was difficult not to be upset with the man for questioning her husband.

  The hostess led them to their usual booth at the back of the restaurant, near to the kitchens. Moira hoped her friend would be in today. It was always nice to catch up with Denise; the two of them were so busy running their restaurants that it could be difficult to find the time to get together. Their other close friend, Martha, went out of town for work for a couple of days every few weeks. Moira was happy to watch her small dog, Diamond, while she was gone, but wished that she could spend more time with the two women.

  “Let’s get wine tonight,” David suggested. “Normally I’d get beer, but I’m not in the mood for some reason.”

  Moira gave a dry chuckle. “I wonder why.”

  Their drinks ordered, the two of them began to peruse the menus. The deli owner was torn between the candied walnut salad, and cherry roasted duck breast. She knew that anything she ordered at the grill would be good.

  She wasn’t surprised when David ordered his usual steak and potatoes. “Can I have the duck, please?” she asked, deciding that after the week they had had, she had earned the less healthy option. When the waiter took their orders back to the kitchen, she turned to David and smiled.

  “Thanks for suggesting dinner,” she said. “I really needed this.”

  “Me, too,” he told her. “It’s nice to be back to some semblance of normal life. How are sales at the deli doing?”

  “Good,” she said. She hesitated. “Well, the food sales are good. Drink sales are still down.”

  She could tell he knew that she meant sales of his beer specifically. He sighed, then said, “It’s to be expected, I guess. On the upside, most people in town care enough to not want to support someone they think might be a murderer. That’s got to say something good about Maple Creek.”

  “That’s true,” she said, glad that her husband was looking on the bright side. “That’s part of the reason I love living here so much. People are just good, through and through. I can’t blame them for that, even if it means drink sales are down.”

  “I just wish the police would hurry up and catch the killer,” she said, suppressing a shiver. “It frightens me to think that someone was in the brewery without your knowledge. Who knows how long they’ve had access? They could have been hidden somewhere inside, watching you and Karissa without you knowing about it.”

  “If whoever killed Snethkamp is the same person that took my key, they can’t have
had access for more than a day. I used that key to open the brewery on Monday. I locked the door behind me manually when I left, and didn’t check my key ring until the next morning. The person who took it must have gotten it between when I opened on Monday, and when I got there on Tuesday.”

  “That would narrow it down some, wouldn’t it?” she asked, sure that the police had already thought of the same thing.

  “Unfortunately, no. I had painters in on Monday to touch up some of the walls, and met with a contractor with the landlord to go over a few redesigns I wanted to do. Karissa had a friend visiting from out of town, and gave her a tour as well. There were plenty of people stomping around all day.”

  Moira bit her lip, remembering her suspicions about his sister. This had gone on for long enough, and the police hadn’t found another suspect. It was time to say something.

  “David,” she began, “there’s something I noticed while Karissa was talking to the police on St. Patrick’s Day. On her sweater, there was —”

  She was cut off by her phone’s ring tone, which sounded surprisingly loud in the quiet restaurant. Annoyed with herself for forgetting to turn it off, she dug through her purse until she found it. When she saw Detective Jefferson’s name on the screen, she answered it right away.

  “Hello?” she said.

  “Moira?” He sounded concerned. “Thank goodness you answered. You need to get to the deli right away. There’s been a fire.”

  Her eyes wide, she inhaled sharply and let the phone drop to her lap. A fire at the deli? Could this week get any worse?

  CHAPTER NINE

  * * *

  Moira gripped the side of her seat as David drove as fast as possible down the dark road that led to town. They had left without their food, apologizing profusely to a concerned waitress. She would pay Denise back later. Right now, all she could think about was the deli. She loved that place more than words could express. It was home to her just as much as the little stone house. If it was gone… well, she didn’t know what she would do.