CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Moira was glad that it was another busy day at the deli. She didn’t even mind all of the questions from people who seemed fascinated by the fact that there had been a dead guy, and a fairly well known dead guy at that, in the store just a week ago. The conversations helped to distract her from thinking of the person who had attacked David and Marcus and killed Jason Platte sitting outside her window all night. She had hardly been able to convince herself to go into work alone that morning, but after checking the recording from the security camera the night before and double-checking that nothing had triggered the motion detector, she thought that the deli was probably safe.
Since Marcus was in the hospital, she was no longer planning on going to the dance. She hadn’t particularly wanted to go in the first place, and with her date injured, though recovering, it wouldn’t feel right. Instead, she would spend the evening with David, trying to figure out who was behind the attacks. Though she had entertained the idea that Denise Donovan was behind it, she just couldn’t make all of the connections. Yes, the woman might have had motive to kill the food critic if she had somehow known that he was giving her a bad review, but Denise was new to the area and as far as Moira knew, she didn’t know either Marcus or David. With nothing to connect them and no motive, she thought that she could safely cross Denise off her list of possible suspects. The problem was, the list was very small. In fact, Denise had been the only person on it. There just wasn’t enough evidence for Moira to suspect anyone else, and with so many tourists in town, it could be nearly anyone.
She said goodbye to Dante shortly after three so that he could get ready for whatever he was doing for Valentine’s Day. She knew that Candice would be busy preparing for the dance, and Darrin was likely going to be attending as well, though he hadn’t mentioned whether he had a date. She was closing the deli in another two hours; once the light parade and the dance started, there was no point in being open. Time passed slowly, with small rushes of customers and long lulls in between. Everyone was excited, and most people who stopped in were only there to buy last minute groceries that they might need over the weekend. No one was buying any of the fresh food, since the dance would have free snacks and drinks.
As evening began to fall, fewer and fewer people came in. The floors had long since been swept and mopped, and all of the goods were straightened on the shelves. The dishes were done, other than the still-simmering pots of soup, and the windows were sparkling. With nothing left to do, Moira took a seat behind the counter and began playing with the security camera app on her phone. It was neat to be able to watch herself sitting there and even more interesting to access the storage files and watch what had gone on earlier in the day. She couldn’t believe that she hadn’t installed anything like this before; with this technology, she would be able to keep an eye on the deli no matter where she was, as long as she had her phone. She could even go back and access old files from up to a week before.
And idea occurred to her so suddenly that she nearly dropped her phone. The security camera recorded everything, all the time, unlike the motion detector, which was only active during the hours the store was closed. That meant that the camera would have recorded whoever had dropped off the flowers. She had never gotten a chance to ask Marcus about them, so there was still a chance that he had done it, in which case she wouldn’t be any closer to finding out who the killer was. Unless he was the killer and had knifed himself to keep the eyes of the police off of him… but no, that didn’t make sense. For one, he would have had no reason to attack David or to kill Jason. Plus, while Marcus was unconscious in the hospital, someone had been watching her from a car last night; that person had left a red rose which linked him—or her—to the other crimes.
Her heart pounding with excitement, and trying not to be angry at herself for taking so long to come up with the idea, she found the correct date in the app’s storage and began playing the video. Since she had no idea what time the flowers had been dropped off, it took her a while to find the right moment. She had been looking for Johan, but when she finally saw a man walk through the front door with a bouquet of roses in his hands, she paused the video and stared at his face. The image was grainy, but she thought she recognized his sandy blonde hair and glasses. It was Steven, the man that had asked her to the dance last Sunday.
She played the video long enough to watch him place the roses on a table and walk away before she set down her phone and stared numbly at the image of him on his way out the door. This isn’t necessarily solid evidence that he’s the killer, she thought, trying to convince herself that there could be another explanation. Then she stopped trying to give Steven the benefit of the doubt; there could only be so many coincidences. Steven had been there when she and Marcus were discussing their date for the dance, and he had been visibly upset. A few hours later, Marcus had been stabbed. He had also been there on the day that David had stayed to help her at the deli for a few hours, and the private detective had been attacked a day later.
But what about the food critic? Why would Steven kill him? He seemed to have been targeting men that were close to her, and she had been anything but close to Jason. She frowned, trying to remember each time she had seen the suspected killer. Had he been there when she and Moira were talking about the bad review that Jason Platte had given her last year? She thought so, though she hadn’t known Steven’s name at the time. He might have heard Martha’s concerns about the deli losing business.
The one thing that she couldn’t understand was why Steven would try to hurt people that she was close to. She barely knew him, and had only spoken to him a handful of times. If she was right and he was the killer, then she supposed that the why didn’t matter that much right now. What mattered was turning him in before he could hurt anyone else.
She had just made the decision to call the police when the deli’s front door swung open, letting in a cold gust of wind. She looked up, hurriedly arranging her face into what she hoped was a normal expression so as not to frighten the customer, but froze halfway through the motion. Steven was standing in the doorway, a single red rose clutched in his hand.
Quickly forcing herself to smile, she offered what she hoped was a cheery greeting. She didn’t know what Steven was here for, but she knew that if he knew that she had found out the truth, then she was in more danger than she had ever been in before. Her only hope was to act like she had no idea that he had attacked two of her friends and killed someone else, and she didn’t know if she was a good enough actor to achieve that. She was certain that he would be able to read the truth in her eyes.
“How can I help you?” she asked, relieved that her voice didn’t shake.
“I saw your car in the lot, and thought I’d stop in,” he replied. “You shouldn’t be alone on Valentine’s Day.”
“I’m not here for much longer; we close in just a few minutes. Thanks for the concern, though.” Her voice sounded hollow even to herself. “What can I get you?”
“Let me see…” His eyes drifted towards the menu for a moment, and then down to the plate of cookies, half of which still remained. She saw her phone lying next to the plate too late. The screen was still on, and the image of Steven leaving the deli was as clear as day. Her blood turning to ice, she risked a glance back up at him and knew that he had seen it too.
The second his eyes met hers and she saw the cold rage in them, she ran. He was between her and the front door, so she went the only direction she could—into the kitchen. The door between the kitchen and the front room didn’t have a lock on it, so she only got a few steps into the room before Steven burst through after her. His eyes were wild. Frozen in terror, she watched as he slipped a knife from his pocket. The rose dropped from his hand to the floor, and one of the petals came off and slowly followed the flower down, floating the rest of the way until it came to rest on top of his boot. She saw all of this with strange clarity, as if it were happening in slow motion. She kept telling herself to run, to try to mak
e it to the side door, but his gaze had her pinned in place. If she moved, time might start again, and then he would kill her.
She slid her eyes over to the counter where her purse was, and despaired that the pepper spray was so far away. It was halfway between them, what seemed like a hopeless distance away, but it was open and she knew exactly which pocket the pepper spray was in.
Trying not to think about it too much, she made a sudden lunge towards the purse. Steven was faster, and caught her roughly by the upper arm. His fingers dug into her skin, sure to leave bruises if she survived this.
“Let me go,” she gasped, recoiling automatically which just made him dig his fingers in even more tightly.
“You should have just said yes,” he hissed at her, ignoring her demand. “All I wanted to do was take you to the dance.”
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this.” She couldn’t take her eyes off the knife in his hand.
“I love you,” he said. “I did everything I could for you. I killed for you. But still you just couldn’t do something as simple as go on one date with me.” He jerked her closer. “It’s always the same with you women. No matter how much I do, it’s never enough.”
“What do you mean, you killed for me?” she managed to say, frantically looking around for anything that she could use to save herself.
“The man who unfairly judged the deli, I killed him. I heard you and your friend talk about the review maybe putting you out of business.” His grip tightened. “I was protecting you.”
“What about David, and Marcus?” she asked, doing her best to stall.
“They shouldn’t have gotten involved with you,” he said with a snort of disgust. “Enough talking. You’ve had your chances. You’re just like all the others. I shouldn’t have wasted my time on you.”
Moira saw his grip tighten on the knife, and knew that the end was near. He was too strong, there was no way she could break free from his grip. Her pepper spray was out of reach in her purse, and her cell phone was in the front room. There was nothing within reach that could save her. Nothing except… her eyes landed on the still-simmering pots of soup on the stove.
She made her move just as Steven was bringing the knife up. Her hand closed firmly around the nearest pot’s handle. As quickly as she could, she jerked it off the stove and flung the contents at him, the pot, too, for good measure. With a strangled cry of agony as scalding-hot soup splashed across his face, he let her go. Before he had a chance to recover, she leapt past him and dashed through the swinging door to the front room, where her phone was still sitting next to the plate of cookies. She grabbed it and dialed the police as she ran out of the building, not caring that it was freezing outside. She didn’t stop until she heard the howling of the sirens and a patrol unit pulled up next to her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home?” David asked, his eyes soft as he watched her.
“No. I need to clean up,” she told him. Realizing that her hands were still shaking, she sat down in a chair. “Though I might sit here for a little bit first.”
“You’re sure he didn’t hurt you?”
“Just a few bruises. I’m fine.” She managed a shaky laugh. “I’m exhausted, and shaken up, but fine.”
Thanks to the quick response of the police, Steven, still covered in soup, had been caught red-handed only a block away from the deli. The security camera had caught enough of the incident that there were no doubts about whether Moira’s story was true. The police had questioned her and, after making sure she was okay, had left her in peace. Tomorrow she would have to go down to the station to make a formal statement, but for the moment, she and David were alone.
David had come quickly when she had called him even though she hadn’t managed to tell the full story over the phone. She had been shocked to see the bruises on his face from when Steven had attacked him, and felt immense guilt that he had gotten hurt because of her.
“Some Valentine’s Day, huh?” she joked weakly.
“At least it’s over,” he told her, glancing at his watch. “It’s officially the fifteenth.”
“Thank goodness.” She buried her head in her hands. “I’m not looking forward to telling Candice what happened. Or Darrin and Dante, for that matter. They’ll be so concerned.”
“You don’t have to do any of that until you get some rest.” He stood up. “I’ll go put some coffee on, and then I’ll help you clean up the spilled soup. After that, I’ll drive you home. Candice can help you get your car tomorrow.”
“Thank you so much,” she said sincerely. “You don’t have to do any of this, you know. I’d be able to manage on my own—don’t feel like you have to stay and help.”
“Nonsense,” he said, giving her a small smile. “There isn’t anywhere I would rather be.” She could tell by the look in his eyes that he meant it. She smiled at him. He was a good friend, but something about his words made her think that he might want to be more.
“Let’s get started,” she said, standing up. She was too tired to think about David and their feelings towards each other at the moment. She had so much left to do, and knew that she would be busier than ever for the next few weeks. Besides repairing the damage from tonight, she would have to make amends with Denise at some point. Her husband may not have been the murderer, but he still acted like a slimebag. Women had to stick together, and the two of them had enough in common that they might even become good friends. “The sooner we get done, the sooner I can go to bed and wake up to a new, and hopefully better, day.”
Table of Contents
TABLE OF CONTENTS
COLD CUT MURDER
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Cold Cut Murder: Book Three in The Darling Deli Series Page 6
