Glazed Ham Murder (The Darling Deli Series Book 20)

by Patti Benning

  I never wanted fame when I started all of this, she thought. I never even thought that this little hobby of mine would bring in real money. It still astounded her to think about how far the deli had come in such a brief time. It sometimes felt like it had spiraled out of control, though she wasn’t complaining. She had managed to make a completely fresh start on her life, and she was determined to take advantage of it as best she could.

  The ham sliced, Moira covered the platter with plastic wrap and put it in the refrigerator before washing her hands and pushing her way through the swinging door that led to the front room. Darrin was behind the register, and Jenny was restocking the drink fridge. The deli owner smiled. David’s beer always flew off the shelves whenever he delivered a new batch. Her husband was doing very well with his new hobby. She just hoped that he and his sister managed to find a new place to set up the brewery if whoever bought the land wasn’t interested in extending the lease. It really would be best if they could buy property of their own, but then they would also need to spend time putting up a suitable building and getting whatever permits they needed to run a business out of the new place.

  Maple Creek had come back to life after the long winter. People were walking up and down the sidewalks carrying shopping bags and walking dogs. There were little green buds on the trees that lined Main Street, and the sky was a perfect, clear blue without a single cloud.

  I hope the weather is this nice on Sunday, she thought. I’m really going to enjoy helping out at the Easter egg hunt if it is. She was glad that she and David were going to be volunteering their time. It would be nice to spend the afternoon with her friends, and, like David, she remembered doing the Easter egg hunt in the park when she was a child. She had taken Candice too, on the years that her daughter hadn’t spent the holiday with her father.

  Feeling happy, she turned to the small blackboard that listed the breakfast special and wiped it off before picking up a piece of chalk and writing the lunch special; White bean soup and glazed ham sandwich on choice of bread. They would continue serving the mini quiches that Darrin had made the deli so famous for until they ran out, but wouldn’t be making any more until the next morning. A few customers had asked if there was any chance that they could start serving breakfast all day—their crêpes were pretty popular too—but she thought it would be too difficult to keep up with that many menu options all day long. It would mean having someone in the kitchen at all times to cook up orders, and she didn’t want to have to hire a new employee unless she had to.

  “Go ahead and start taking lunch orders,” she told Darrin. “And come back and grab a bowl of soup yourself when you get a chance. You’ve been working all morning, you deserve a break.”

  “Thanks, Ms. D.,” he said. “I’ll grab lunch soon.”

  She went back into the kitchen and idly stirred the simmering soup, thinking about what she would do that weekend. The deli would close early on Saturday, and be closed all day on Easter Sunday. Even with the volunteer work she had agreed to do, she would have most of the weekend free. If it’s warm enough, maybe David and I can take the dogs to the beach, she thought. The water would still be too chilly for humans to swim this early in the year, but the dogs didn’t seem to mind. Both of them loved a good romp through the water, though brushing the sand out of their fur afterward was always a pain.

  Her phone began to vibrate in her pocket. She put down the soup spoon and pulled her phone out. She always felt guilty answering it during work, since she asked her employees not to take private calls unless it was an emergency. This was a call from Candice, though, and she always made an exception for her daughter.

  “Hey, sweetie,” she said, leaning against the counter.

  “Mom?” Her daughter’s voice was tearful. Moira felt a sharp pang of fear. Her hand tightened on the phone.

  “Candice? What’s wrong?”

  “I—I think my car was stolen. Can you come and help? I’m at the bar in Lake Marion.”

  “Your car?” Moira blinked. At least her daughter was okay. A car could always be replaced. “Of course. I’ll be right there. I’m going to see if David can meet us there too, okay?”

  She got off the phone and hurried out of the kitchen to tell her two employees that she had to leave. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Something came up. Will you be okay here? Can you stay a little bit later, Darrin? I know your shift is supposed to end soon.”

  “No problem,” he said. “I hope everything is all right.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “So do I.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  * * *

  Moira pulled into the bar’s parking lot and was relieved to see David’s familiar black sedan already parked there. He was standing next to Candice, along with a pair of police officers. She shut off her SUV and hurried over.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Let Candice talk to the police,” David said, taking her by the elbow and leading her a few steps away. “They need to start looking for the vehicle as soon as possible. She’ll tell you once she’s done, but every second the police wait the thief could be getting farther away.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine,” her husband assured her. “She’s not hurt; she wasn’t even here when it happened.”

  “Okay,” Moira breathed. “Okay, that’s what really matters.”

  It seemed to take forever for the police to finish asking her daughter questions, but at last they tucked their notebooks away and said their goodbyes, promising to do everything they could to find the missing vehicle. Once they left, Moira, Candice, and David all went across the street to the diner where the private investigator bought them all lemonades.

  “Thanks so much,” Candice said. “Sorry, I just completely panicked when I saw that it was gone.”

  “What happened?” Moira asked. “I still don’t understand how it got stolen.”

  “Well, Caroline and I were at the bar last night and I was too buzzed to feel safe driving home, so Eli took us both home and I left the convertible in the bar’s parking lot,” the young woman began. She gave her mother a nervous look.

  “I’m glad you did the responsible thing and got a ride home,” Moira said. “Don’t worry, I won’t ever be mad about that. Go on.”

  “Well, I came back this morning to pick it up—I walked because it was nice out—and it was gone. That’s it, really.”

  “Are you sure it didn’t get towed?” her mother asked.

  “I’m sure. The bar owner said he never tows cars unless they’re left there for more than a couple of days. He’d rather people park there overnight and get a taxi home, than try to drive home drunk and get in an accident.”

  “He’s a good man,” David said. “I’ve met him a few times. He’s selling my drafts now. About your car, are you missing the keys?”

  “No. There are only two copies, and Mom has the other one.”

  Moira dug in her purse and pulled out her key ring to make sure her daughter’s spare care key wasn’t missing. “Yep, I’ve still got it.”

  “And mine’s right here,” Candice said, holding her copy up. “I guess whoever took it must have hot-wired it.

  “What are the police going to do?” Moira asked. “Do they think they’ll be able to track down the person who took it?”

  “They said they’re going to put an alert out to other departments and that police all over Michigan will have their eyes peeled for it, but they can’t guarantee anything. I’m supposed to bring in the title and proof of insurance as soon as I can. The officer who took my statement said I should also call the insurance company and report the vehicle stolen right away.”

  “We can give you a ride back to your house to get the paperwork and then to the police station,” David said. “After that, I’m going to come back here and take a look around the parking lot. Do you remember which spot you parked in?”

  Candice nodded. “Yeah, I remember because I parked right next to a big puddle and got my shoe
s all wet. I hope they find the car. I feel so bad that it got stolen.” The vehicle had been a birthday gift from Moira and David the year before.

  “It’s not your fault, sweetie,” her mother assured her. “Whoever stole it is the one I’m mad at. I guess by now I should know not to expect any better from people, but it still makes me angry to think that someone would do something like that.”

  “We’ll find the car,” David told both of them. “Right now, though, we have to follow up with the police and the insurance company.”

  Moira kept her eyes peeled as David drove, her heart lifting whenever she saw a silver car, only to be disappointed when she saw that it wasn’t her daughter’s. She knew that the thief could very well be cities—or even states—away by now, but something in her expected to see the missing car around every curve. The three of them arrived at the Maple Creek police station an hour after they left the bar, Candice still alternating between tears and anger at her stolen car.

  Moira looked up hopefully when Detective Jefferson, the young head detective of the police force that served the two small towns, approached them, but he shook his head slightly as he met her eyes. Still no news, she thought. I know it hasn’t been long, but I really want them to find whoever did this.

  “You have the paperwork?” he asked Candice. She nodded. “Good. Bring it back, and we’ll make photocopies. We may need the vehicle’s VIN to identify it, depending on the condition it is found in.”

  The three of them followed the detective back to his office, a room that Moira had become familiar with over the past few years. She was glad that he was the one heading their case; she and David had both helped him in the past, and she knew that he would give her daughter’s case the careful consideration that he gave every case that came across his desk.

  “Right, you folks can wait here. I’ll take these into the other room and copy them. After that I’ll answer any questions you may have, but there really isn’t much else to do at this point other than play the waiting game. I’ll send a couple of officers out to look for it when I can. It’s going to be chaotic around here for a little bit, but I promise we’ll keep an eye out for your car.”

  Candice and Moira took the chairs in front of Jefferson’s desk while David stood near the door. The deli owner exchanged a glance with her husband. She knew that he would be eager to get out of there and start looking for the car on his own. He had never been able to resist a good mystery… though for that matter, neither had she.

  “Mom, do you think you could—” Candice broke off mid-sentence as Detective Jefferson’s office door opened to reveal a female officer who Moira didn’t recognize—meaning she must have been new.

  “Detective, a call just came about a— Oh, I’m so sorry. I should have knocked.” She began to shut the door, then paused. “Do you know where Detective Jefferson is?”

  “He was going to copy some paperwork, so wherever the copy machine is,” Moira told her.

  “Thanks.” The young woman hurried out the door. They continued to wait for another for minutes until at last Jefferson returned. He handed the papers back to Candice and herded them out of his office.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “We’ll have to pick this back up later. There’s been an accident with a fatality, and I’m needed at the scene.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  * * *

  David drove the three of them back to Lake Marion so Moira could pick up her vehicle and Candice could return home where her sleepy friend was waiting to hear the story of the missing car. After dropping Candice off, Moira joined David at his office.

  “So, what do you think?” she asked him. “Should I help her start car shopping?”

  “Give it some time,” he said. “It’s a nice car, and it’s bound to turn up somewhere, though I can’t guess in what condition.”

  “Do you think someone stole it so they could sell it, or was it just some kids taking it on a joy ride?”

  “Without the keys, I doubt any of our local kids would have been able to start it. That’s the puzzling part. Newer vehicles are difficult to hotwire. They aren’t built like they were twenty years ago. Whoever stole it must have known what they were doing.”

  “What would a professional car thief be doing in Lake Marion? It’s a nice little town, but it’s still too early in the year for there to be many tourists, and not many of the locals drive anything nice enough to be worth stealing for a profit.”

  Her husband grinned at her. “You know, you’re quite good at asking all of the right questions. That was exactly what I was wondering myself.”

  “I’ve had plenty of practice these past few months, helping you out with cases like I have been,” she said, laughing. She sobered quickly, the theft of the car still too fresh in her mind for her to feel happy for long. “What do you think, though? Was it just bad luck on Candice’s part that a skilled thief happened to see her car parked in the bar’s parking lot overnight?”

  “It could be as simple as that,” he said. “I don’t like to ignore coincidences, but at this point I really don’t have any other ideas. She doesn’t have any enemies, does she?”

  “Not that I know of.” Moira frowned. “Wait, she did say something about an ex-girlfriend of Eli’s being in town. Do you think that woman might have something to do with this?”

  “I doubt it, but I can look into it. What was her name? Alexa?”

  The deli owner nodded. “I can see if Candice knows her last name. It’s probably a long shot, though.”

  “It’s a lead,” he said. “We’ll follow it and see where it goes.”

  Moira was halfway home when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the screen, saw that it was David, whom she had just said her goodbyes to not fifteen minutes ago, and pulled over to answer the call.

  “I’m glad you answered. Meet me at the police station,” he told her by way of greeting. “Jefferson said he has something for us to see, and by his tone, it doesn’t sound good.”

  “Should I get Candice?”

  “No, not yet. He asked me specifically not to say anything to her yet. He didn’t mention you either way, so I’m not sure he’ll be happy when you show up, too, but we’ll handle whatever comes up.”

  “All right, I’ll meet you there in ten minutes,” she said. Her stomach roiled with anxiety as she put the phone down and shifted the car back into drive. What on earth could have gone wrong now?

  When Detective Jefferson saw her follow the private investigator into the police station, his lips tightened, but he didn’t comment. She wondered why he didn’t seem to want her there. If they had found the car, even if it was wrecked, what difference would her presence make?

  “I’m sorry to ask this of you, David, but I thought that with your expertise, well, you might notice something I hadn’t.” He glanced at Moira. “Ms. Darling, do you think you could wait out here?”

  He only calls me that when he’s working on a case that involves me, she thought. What’s going on?

  “She’s here as my assistant,” David told the detective. At the other man’s disbelieving look, he added, “She’s been helping me out for a while now, you know that. Whatever’s going on now, I’m not going to keep it from her. Consider her just another consultant.”

  “Fine,” Jefferson said sourly. “This way, please.”

  They followed him to his office again. This time, he sat down in the comfortable leather chair and began typing something into the computer. She and David sat across from him. After a few seconds, he turned the screen around so it faced them.

  “Earlier today, we got a call about a hit and run. The man’s body was found on the side of the road by a woman walking her dogs. This video is from a surveillance camera belonging to a party store. It just barely caught the accident. I’ll play the video twice, once at full speed, and once at half speed, zoomed in. The second time I play it, please observe the driver.” He glanced at Moira. “The video is graphic, and I won’t think any less of you if you don’t wan
t to watch it.”

  “I’m fine,” she said shortly, her heart pounding. She was confused. What did any of this have to do with her daughter?

  “Very well.” With no further delay, he played the video.

  Moira recognized the silver car immediately. It was Candice’s. Of course, the police would need more to go on to identify the vehicle than one blurry recording, but she didn’t have any doubts. The second time the video played, which was, as promised, zoomed in and slowed down, she kept her eyes on the driver as Detective Jefferson had instructed. What she saw made the breath whoosh out of her. It felt as if she had been punched in the gut.

  “Candice,” she breathed. The quality of the video was poor enough that she couldn’t make out the woman’s face, but there was no mistaking that long, blonde hair streaming behind the driver in the wind. It had been a nice night, and the convertible’s top had been down.

  “What’s the time stamp on this video?” David asked, his face unreadable.

  “Just a few minutes after three in the morning,” the detective said.

  “The bar closed at two,” the private investigator said. “That gives us an hour between the latest she would have left the bar, and when the accident happened.”

  “You can’t actually think she did this,” Moira said, looking between her husband and the police detective. “Candice wouldn’t run someone over and then drive away.”

  “She might if she was intoxicated,” Jefferson said.

  “She said she asked Eli for a ride home. Can’t you confirm that with him? I know it looks like her in the video, but it could be anyone with long, light colored hair. My daughter wouldn’t do something like this.”

  “Her fiancé isn’t exactly the most reliable alibi. If anyone could be convinced to lie for her, it would be him,” the detective said. “But we’ll do what we can to piece this together.”