Hearty Homestyle Murder: Book 9 in The Darling Deli Series (10 page)

The dogs stopped playing and trotted over to the window as a dark green minivan pulled up her driveway. Moira rose out of her seat, slipped her feet into the sandals she had waiting by the door, then stepped outside with the dogs.

“Keeva!” the woman who got out of the minivan called. The grey dog cocked her head for a second, ears twitching, then galloped across the distance to meet her owner. Her greeting was so exuberant that she almost knocked the woman off her feet. Moira gave them both a few minutes to say hi to each other, then told Maverick that he could go say hi as well. She followed him and was seized in a tight hug by the tearful woman as soon as she stepped into arm’s reach.

“Thank you so much,” Chelsea said after releasing her. She wiped her eyes. “When Rick made me stop looking for her and drive back to Kentucky, I thought I would never see her again. I can’t believe you found her. This is miles from where we lost her.”

“She must have been wandering around for about a week before making it to my back yard,” Moira said. “She was dirty and pretty skinny when I first saw her. I don’t think she even remembers that time though. She’s had quite a few nice big meals since then, plus a couple baths. Well, one bath, and she also got hosed off outside once after she got all muddy playing with Maverick in the stream.”

“Well I’m glad she’s been living it up. I just can’t believe I found her. It will be so good to get her home. You’ve got a good heart, Moira. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough.”

***

The house seemed oddly quiet when she left an hour later for work. She gave Maverick an extra pat goodbye and promised to bring him something tasty home from the deli. She used the drive to think about what she and David had learned about Darrin the night before. Could he really be the killer? She didn’t want to believe it, but everything pointed towards him. He had motive, and someone had witnessed him pouring something into a bowl of soup before the contest. She had seen him pocket a little brown bottle herself.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when she noticed a police cruiser following her. A quick mental checklist confirmed that she wasn’t doing anything wrong: she was driving the speed limit, her registration was up to date, and as far as she knew, both of her tail lights were working. Still, she couldn’t help the little spike of anxiety that she always felt when driving in front of the police. She felt hyperaware of everything, and was certain that her nerves were making her swerve more than usual. It was with relief that she pulled into the deli’s parking lot, however that relief quickly faded when she saw the other cruiser parked there and Allison and Meg standing outside next to an officer. The cruiser that had been following her pulled in after her. Moira had just unbuckled her seat belt when Detective Jefferson approached her with a piece of paper in his hand.

“Ms. Darling,” he said formally. “We have a warrant to search your deli.”

“What?” she asked. “You can’t be serious. I didn’t do anything, you know that.”

“Here’s the warrant, ma’am. Would you like to come inside? You’re allowed to watch, but you can’t interfere with any of the officers.”

Numb with shock, she got out of her car and followed him inside, the warrant clutched in her hand. Even though she had nothing to hide, her heart was pounding. As the officers began to rifle through the contents of the deli, she felt more and more violated. It wasn’t fair. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Why was she being treated like she was a criminal?

“Anything?” Jefferson asked the officers when they came out of the kitchen. They both shook their heads.

“Nada,” one said. “This place is clean.”

“Good. You guys can head back to the station,” he said. He turned to Moira. “I’m sorry about this, but we had to act quickly. One of your employees has been implicated in the murder of Reuben Willis, and we couldn’t take the chance of losing evidence if he hid anything here. It looks like there’s nothing we have to worry about though. Thank you for your cooperation, Moira. I still want you to be careful. The poison was a very lethal cyanide compound. It smells like bitter almonds to some people. If you ever think something smells like almonds when it shouldn’t, then I advise you not to eat it.”

Meg and Allison were both unsettled by the search. She hadn’t shared much about the case with them, and didn’t want to start now if she could help it. She knew from working so often with David in the past few months that giving out too much information was never a good thing.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Meg said, still wide-eyed.

“Me either. We’ve got to tell the boys about it. Want to swing by Darrin’s place after work?” Allison asked her friend.

“He’s still out of town,” Moira told them from behind the register where she was double-checking the cash and order forms to make sure nothing had been lost.

“No he isn’t,” Allison said. “I was at his apartment complex yesterday to visit another friend and I saw his truck in the lot. I’m pretty sure it was his, anyway. It looked just like it, and was parked in front of his building.”

Moira’s fingers tightened on the stack of order forms. Had Darrin even left town at all? What had happened to the reliable, trustworthy young man that she had hired years ago? This was the last straw. She was sick of being lied to and seen as a possible murder suspect thanks to her apparently rogue employee. It was time to get to the bottom of this. She and Darrin needed to clear the air on a few things.

She pulled up outside of Darrin’s apartment, still fueled by the anger that had caused her to leave the deli in the first place. Sure enough, his truck was parked in the lot right in front of his building. Not even half an hour ago he had lied to her when she called him to double-check that he hadn’t come home early. He had told her point blank that he was still in Wisconsin with his family. She wanted to confront him before the police did and see what he had to say for himself when they were face to face.

After parking her car, she marched straight up the stairs and knocked on his door. After waiting a few minutes, she decided that he probably wasn’t going to answer. He had probably seen through the peephole just how angry she was.
Good
, she thought.
I hope he feels bad.
She would wait him out, and when he finally gave in and decided to talk to her, she would do her best to figure out once and for all if he had murdered Reuben Willis. She didn’t think he would hurt her even if he was the killer; they had known each other for too long for her to be afraid.

“Darrin,” she called out. “I’m not going away. Just come and talk to me.” Nothing but silence met her ears.

With a sigh she reached out and tried the doorknob. She was surprised when it turned in her hand. The door opened easily under her touch. Where was Darrin? If he was trying so hard to avoid her, why had he left the door unlocked?
Maybe he wasn’t in the apartment at all,
she thought, embarrassed.
He could have stepped out to go talk to a neighbor or go on a walk.
She hesitated for only a moment before stepping into the apartment and shutting the door behind her. She locked it, hoping to give herself some sort of advance warning if he returned while she was still there, and began looking around.

His apartment was tidy, obviously the home of someone who was naturally neat. A hamster in a cage sat next to the television in the living room, and when she came near it sat up on its wheel, tiny nose twitching back and forth as it examined her. A bag of hamster food was sitting next to its cage with a note taped to it.

Feed him half a bowl once a day and check his water. Hold him if you want, but he may bite
.

“Odd,” she muttered. Who was the note for? Maybe he was watching someone else’s pet. Or… she looked again at the writing. It looked like Darrin’s. If this was his hamster, it made sense that he had asked somebody to stop by and feed it. Maybe the pet sitter had left the door unlocked, and this had all been some sort of big misunderstanding on her part. But then why was his truck parked outside?

After a quick walk-through of the apartment she confirmed that he wasn’t there. She hadn’t seen anything that pointed towards his guilt, but had seen nothing to prove that he was innocent either. What was she looking for? A bottle with a skull and crossbones and the word “cyanide” printed on the side of it? No, Darrin was smart. If he had killed someone, he wouldn’t leave the evidence out in plain sight.

So where should I look?
she wondered.
If he did keep anything around that could prove he was the killer, where would it be?
What
would it be?
She thought back to the day of the murder at the fair. What had he been wearing? It probably didn’t matter—he would have washed the clothes by now. Feeling somewhat deflated as weariness replaced her anger, she decided that without being able to talk to him, there wouldn’t be much that she could do. She decided she would take a quick look around his kitchen, the obvious place for anyone with a passion for cooking to hide poison, and leave.

At first she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. There were all the normal spices, condiments, and dry goods. His cupboard held an extra bottle of ketchup, a grinder of sea salt, a small container of chicken bouillon… and a little brown glass jar. Her eyes widened the moment that she saw it. She recognized it instantly from the fair—peeled-off label and all. Could this be it? Evidence that he had indeed poisoned Reuben Willis?

Wait
, she thought, suddenly confused.
Didn’t David say that they had found the vial that the poison was in? How could that be if the vial is sitting right here?
She reached hesitantly for the vial and paused only a moment before opening it. Before she could convince herself how foolish she was being she raised the open glass vial to her nose and sniffed.

Hot sauce. All that was in the vial was hot sauce. No bitter almond smell like the detective had warned her about.
Hot sauce
. She felt a wave of relief wash over her. Darrin wasn’t the murderer. All he had been doing that day was adding some of his special hot sauce to the soup. There were still unanswered questions, like why he had lied to her about the trip, but at least she knew he wasn’t a killer, not unless he had two glass jars, identical down to the peeled-off label.

She felt embarrassed at the realization that she had trespassed in an innocent man’s apartment. Careful to replace the small container of hot sauce where she left it, she retraced her steps, said goodbye to the hamster, and left. She felt lucky that Darrin hadn’t come back while she was gone—what would he have said if he had found her in his apartment rifling through his kitchen cupboards?

On her way out to her car, her phone rang.

“Hey, Ms. D., I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be back sometime in the early afternoon tomorrow, so I can take the evening shift if you need me to. The ferry leaves at eight in the morning, and it’ll take my sister another half hour to drive me home, so I should be back by about one at the latest.”

“The ferry?” she asked.

“Yeah. Danni picked me up and drove me over to the ferry the other day. It’s a lot fast than driving all the way around Lake Michigan to get to Wisconsin.”

“Danni?” She sounded like some sort of poorly trained parrot, but this conversation was befuddling.

“Yeah, my sister. She came to the deli once. I don’t think you were there, though. Anyway, do you think you’ll need me to take that shift?”

“Um, yeah, if you’re up to it. Thanks.”

She hung up, shaking her head at how quickly she had been jumping to conclusions this whole week. Darrin’s car was in the parking lot because his sister had given him a ride. And she would bet good money that the person he had been eating with at the Redwood Grill had been his sister, too. Darrin was just what he had appeared to be, and what she always thought he was: an honest, trustworthy young man. He had never done anything that deserved suspicion, yet she had jumped to all sorts of conclusions. When had she become so untrusting?

No more jumping to conclusions
, she promised herself.
From now on, if I think someone is being dishonest, I need to confront them before assuming anything.

“So you’re sure he’s innocent?” David asked.

“Yes,” Moira said, giddy with relief. “Everything adds up. I should have trusted him to begin with. Darrin wouldn’t ever hurt anyone.”

“We still don’t know who the real killer is,” he pointed out.

Moira shrugged. “I’m sure the police will catch them eventually. I’m just glad that this doesn’t have anything to do with the deli or the people I care about. After the fiasco with Candice earlier this summer, I want to stay as far away from criminals as I can get. I still have nightmares about her being kidnapped.”

“I don’t blame you. I hope things stay settled down for you, Moira, I really do.” He took a bite of his salad and looked around. “It was nice of Denise to invite us here for lunch. I’m glad she decided to extend her hours—the place is packed already. Do you think the extra hours—and extra menu items—will be enough to keep this place going?”

“I don’t know, but I hope so.” She glanced around too, looking for her friend. Denise was across the room, chatting with another pair of guests and looking happier than Moira had seen her in a long time. “For her sake, I really do.”