Corned Beef Murder: Book Two in The Darling Deli Series (6 page)

“You should probably get going, Ms. Darling.” He nodded at David. “Have a nice evening.”

* * *

Back at Darling’s DELIcious Delights, she and David sat in his car for a few minutes to discuss what they had found. His car was toasty warm inside, and the heated leather seats were so comfortable that Moira was beginning to feel sleepy.

“What should we do next?” she asked him.

“Keep our eyes and ears peeled for any leads,” he responded. “And tell me if you find anything else.”

“Do you really think that she was murdered, too?” she asked him.

“I do,” he said. “But I think that we aren’t anywhere close to solving this case, and we’ll have to be careful about who we talk to. The killer could be anyone.”

A few days after her adventure with David, Moira still hadn’t made any progress in solving the mystery of her friend’s death. The worst part was, she knew that as more time passed, the killer was less likely to be caught. The only person that she felt safe talking to about her suspicions was her daughter and she worried that even Candice was getting tired of hearing about her mom’s concerns. Besides, Candice had her own future to think of.

A week and a half after the storm had hit and Emilia had been found dead, Moira was standing in the deli’s kitchen, frowning at the gas range. Her favorite large burner wasn’t working, and none of her usual fiddling around had been able to fix it. She didn’t want to mess with it too much since the last thing she needed today was a gas leak. It was beginning to look like she would have to call a repairman. For the time being, she would have to make do with one of the smaller burners in the back. She was trying a new recipe; a creamy ginger carrot soup that she had thought of last night, but had yet to try.

She began by sautéing some onions and fresh ginger in butter, the delicious scents quickly filling the kitchen and wiping away her annoyance about the broken stove. Once the onions and ginger were done, she added in a few cups of vegetable broth and some sliced carrots. She turned the heat down so that the soup would simmer without boiling, and then covered it with a glass lid. She was cleaning up her workstation and preparing the blender, spices, and cream for the next step when Candice slipped into the kitchen. Her daughter was an hour early for her shift, which meant that she likely had something on her mind.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she said. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’ve been thinking more about that business that I want to start,” her daughter said. She took a deep breath. “And, well, I think I know what I want to do.”

“What is it?” Moira asked, curious about what her daughter had come up with.

“A candy shop,” Candice said. “I can make all of the candies myself, and those sorts of shops usually do pretty well during tourist season.”

“I think that sounds like a great idea.” Moira walked over to give her daughter a quick hug. “And I’ll be happy to test out any new recipes you come up with.”

“Thanks.” Her daughter grinned up at her. It’s awesome that you’re so supportive. It really means a lot to me.”

“I just want you to be happy,” she said. “Though I have to admit, I love that your dream is so similar to my own. We’ll be quite the team.”

“You’ve inspired me so much, Mom. I can’t wait to start my own business.” She paused and sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”

“Oh, that? It’s my new creamy ginger carrot soup. What do you think?” she asked.

“It smells amazing—and I don’t even usually like carrots.” Candice grinned. “I hope I turn out to be as good at making candy as you are at inventing new soups, sandwiches, and salads.”

* * *

The creamy ginger carrot soup, served with carrot bread, was an immediate hit with her customers. Most of them had never had carrot soup before, but she had used a lot of ingredients and spices her customers were familiar with. Moira thought that she might begin experimenting with more unique soups, and she found that she couldn’t wait until spring came and she started serving salads again. The freedom to invent new recipes was one of the things that she loved most about owning the deli. She no longer had to feel guilty about spending hours in the kitchen—now, it was her job.

“Hey, Mom, there’s someone out front to see you,” Candice said, poking her head through the kitchen door. It was late afternoon, and Moira was elbow-deep in the big fridge, trying to get a jump-start on cleaning it out.

“Okay, tell them I’ll be right out.” She peeled off her gloves and brushed off the knees of her pants before slipping through the swinging door that lead to the front room. She saw Martha immediately; the other woman was standing near the cash register with a sparkling water in her hand, shifting from foot to foot as she waited for Moira to make an appearance.

“Hi, Martha,” she said as she stepped around the counter, trusting her daughter to take care of the customers lined up at the register. “How was Traverse City?”

“Oh, it was fine. I managed to close that business deal, so my boss is pretty happy.” She hesitated and looked around, taking in the busy deli. In a low voice, she said, “Actually… there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. Can we go somewhere more private?”

“Sure.” Moira led Emilia’s sister around the counter and into the kitchen, where the only sounds were the soft murmur of conversation from the other side of the door and the hum of her various appliances.
Did something else happen?
she wondered, noting the concern on her friend’s face.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said about Emilia,” Martha began after she took another nervous look around. “And I think you’re right. I think that someone killed her.”

“What happened to make you change your mind?” she asked gently. To her surprise, the other woman choked back a sob and collapsed onto a stool.

“My apartment… someone broke into it while I was gone. My jewelry, my TV… it’s all gone.” She buried her face in her hands. “Now I’m terrified that whoever it was will come back, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Have you gone to the police?” Moira asked. She pulled a second stool over to sit next to the crying woman, gently patting her shoulder as she sat down.

“N-no, not yet. I was so scared, I left right away. What if the burglar was still in the house somewhere?”

“We should probably call the police first thing. I can go with you back to your apartment and wait with you there. Does that sound all right?” she asked. Martha nodded, so Moira got up to tell her daughter that it looked like she would be leaving early, and to see if one of her other employees could come in to help out.

Martha was so shaken up that Moira thought it would be best if she drove them to Martha’s apartment. On the way, Moira called the police station and told them that there had been a burglary. Next, she called David and left him a quick message telling him about what was going on. By the time she had finished both calls, they had arrived at the apartment, and Martha had begun to dry her tears.

The police arrived shortly after, the now-familiar forms of Detectives Fitzgerald and Jefferson silhouetted in the car. The two women met them at the front of the apartment building, and Detective Jefferson took down notes as Fitzgerald asked Martha a few quick questions. After a few minutes, they were ready to go inside.
The women followed behind the men as they made their way up the stairs to the second level. They paused outside the apartment door while Martha unlocked it.

“You two wait here until we give the all clear,” Jefferson said in a low voice. Moira watched as the two detectives cautiously entered the apartment, Fitzgerald holding his gun out in front of him and pointed at the floor at an angle. She and her shaken friend waited with bated breath, expecting to hear a gunshot or shout at any moment, but just a few minutes later, Jefferson reappeared and put them at ease.

“Whoever robbed you isn’t here anymore, Ms. Washburn,” he told Martha. “We checked the house thoroughly.”

“Thank you so much,” she said. “Do you think you can find the person who did this?”

“I hope so,” he replied. “We’ll look around a bit, if that’s okay with you. You can start taking an inventory of what’s missing.”

“Go ahead,” she said. “Do whatever you need to track him down. I do have insurance, but some of what was taken was stuff that belonged to my parents and my sister.” She bit her lip, tears rising to her eyes again. “Now I don’t have anything else to remember them by.”

Moira followed her friend into the apartment, keeping her eyes peeled for anything the burglar might have left behind, but at first she didn’t even see any signs that there had been a burglary at all. She had been envisioning chaos; clothes and papers tossed everywhere, broken plates, maybe a tipped-over chair or two. But, just like Emilia’s house, the apartment was neat and tidy, with only a few small clues that someone had recently been there.

It wasn’t until she followed her friend to the bedroom that she saw the empty jewelry hooks on the wall and the cleaned-out medicine cabinet.
Just like in Emilia’s house
, she thought.

“That’s odd,” Martha noted. “The burglar took the photograph that was hanging there. It did have a nice frame, but who steals someone’s family picture?”

“You didn’t keep anything behind the photograph, Ms. Washburn?” Detective Jefferson asked. “Sometimes people hide important papers or money behind photographs. Especially if they don’t have a safe.”

Martha shook her head. “No. Nothing like that. It was just a picture of Emilia, our parents, and me.” She began to tear up again. “Why couldn’t they have left the picture after seeing there was no money in the frame? That’s the only picture I have of the four of us.”

After Martha’s tears slowed, they walked around the apartment together, Moira lending moral support while her friend made a list of her missing items to give to the police. When she was done, she took a picture of the list with her phone to keep for the insurance claim, then gave the paper to Detective Jefferson.

“Here’s everything that I noticed missing. It’s everything important at least. I really hope you catch the guy,” she said.

“We’ll do our best,” he assured her.

“Have you found anything yet?” she asked. “How did he get in?”

“We aren’t sure,” the detective said with a frown. “The door doesn’t have any signs of forced entry. Are you sure you locked it before leaving?”

“I’m positive,” Martha said. “And it was locked when I got back.” The detective’s frown deepened, but he didn’t say anything else.

Moira met David at the deli again that evening, after making sure that Martha was comfortable being left alone at her apartment. She was worried about leaving her friend alone, but needed to talk to the detective.

“Do you think it was the same person?” he asked her as he warmed his hands over a steaming bowl of creamy ginger carrot soup.

“Definitely. Just like at Emilia’s house, there wasn’t a mess, plus, the two women are related. It must be someone that knows them both,” she said.
“That won’t help us much. In a town this small, everyone knows everybody else.” He sighed. “Do you have any suspects?”

“No… not really. I mean, there’s that maintenance guy that Emilia hired… he would have had access to her entire house.” She paused, considering the suspect that she had just named. “He would also have known that Martha was going to be out of town for a few days; I’m sure he’d have overheard her and Emilia talking about it.”

“And he would have had a chance to steal the key,” the private detective added. “If you can get his name, I’ll do some digging.”

“All right,” she said. “I’ll ask Martha tomorrow.” She was interrupted by Dante stepping through the swinging door of the kitchen. He had volunteered to come in earlier when she had unexpectedly had to leave to go and help her friend.

“Hey, Ms. Darling,” he said, darting a nervous glance at David. “I finished up with the dishes. Is it all right if I take off?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, giving him a thankful smile. “You were awesome today. Thanks for coming in to hold down the fort with Candice on such short notice.”

“Oh, it was no problem,” he assured her. He ducked back into the kitchen quickly to get his coat, and then he made his way to the front door. He gave her a smile, and gave David a nod. Moira decided to introduce them; she wanted to make her new employee feel at home as much as possible.

“Dante,” she said. “This is David Morris. He’s a private investigator and also my friend.” Dante’s eyes widened.

“An investigator?” he asked. “What for?” He looked nervous, which confused her. She couldn’t understand why the young man would be afraid of a detective.

“He’s been helping me look into something involving my friend that died,” she told him.

“Oh.” Dante shifted his weight uncertainly, and then gave them both a second quick nod. “See you tomorrow, Ms. Darling.”

“How much do you know about that kid?” David asked Moira, his dark eyebrows arched in amusement.

“He’s new,” she told him. “So not much. But he’s a hard worker, and he never complains. Why?”

“He just seemed a bit too nervous,” he told her. “Do you mind if I look into him too?”