Corned Beef Murder: Book Two in The Darling Deli Series (8 page)

He also would have had access to Martha’s apartment, and could have easily stolen her key from Emilia’s key chain; more likely, Martha had just given him one.
But what motive could he have?
She wondered. She didn’t know enough about the family to even guess, but she had the feeling that her terrible suspicion was true. James must be the one who had been stealing from his sisters. He had already killed one, and now Moira might be just a few yards away from where he was threatening Martha.

It was all she could do to keep herself from charging in.
I have to be smart
, she thought. She knew that she could easily end up as dead as Emilia was if she wasn’t careful. The smart thing to do would be to call the police and wait for them to show up, but by then, it might be too late. Plus, there was that small voice inside her that warned that she didn’t
know
that James was a killer, and she didn’t want to call the police out on a wild goose chase.

She decided to get closer and look for any evidence that Martha was nearby.
It might not even be the same car that was following her
, she thought, even though it seemed like far too big a coincidence.

Careful not to slip on the icy asphalt, Moira slowly and silently made her way over to the red car at the far side of the building. She braced herself as she peered through the window, not quite sure what she was expecting to see. The car turned out to be mostly empty, except for a few fast food wrappers and a single cell phone sitting face-up on the passenger side seat in the back. None of this told her much… unless the phone was Martha’s or James’s. Struck by sudden inspiration, she dialed the brother’s number on her own cell phone first and watched the phone in the car for any sign of an incoming call. Nothing. Next she tried her friend’s number. When the screen of the phone on the seat lit up, Moira felt her stomach clench. It was definitely Martha’s phone, which meant that she must have been in the car at some point. Moira only hoped that she had found the killer’s hideout in time—it might already be too late.

“Hey! What are you doing?” a man’s voice shouted, making her jump. She looked up to see James peering at her through the cracked door of the motel room, his face red with anger. A jolt of terror stabbed through Moira, and she began backing slowly away. She barely had time to press the speed dial button on her phone and slide it into her pocket, praying that she had pressed the right number, before the man had fully opened the door and lunged at her. She tried to turn and run, but her left foot slipped on a patch of ice and she went down, hard. The side of her head smacked against the frozen pavement, and her ankle twisted. She gasped in pain, but she didn’t have time to do anything else before James reached her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and jerked her to her feet, and when her ankle refused to support her weight, he half-carried and half-dragged her inside. Still dazed, Moira knew when she heard the click of the deadbolt being thrown that she was in trouble.

“Moira?” a terrified voice called out to her. The deli owner opened her eyes and blinked a few times, trying to adjust her vision to the dark room. She saw a familiar form sitting on a chair a few feet away from her. Martha. She breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’re alive,” she mumbled.

“What are you doing here? You shouldn’t have come; he’ll kill you too!” the other woman screamed.

“Shut up! Both of you!” James roared, slamming his fist against the motel room’s single desk. “I need to think.” His eyes darted between the two women. “None of this was supposed to happen,” he mumbled.
Keep him talking
, Moira thought to herself. It seemed to be a good tactic—it had worked well the last time her life had been threatened.

“I don’t understand,” she said, trying to keep her thoughts straight even though her head and her ankle were throbbing. She thought she might have a concussion, but she wasn’t sure. “Why are you doing this?”

“I need money,” he said, sinking onto the bed. “The people I owe, they’ll kill me. Just sign the paper!” The last part was snapped at Martha, who was whimpering softly. Moira saw that her friend was tied to the chair. There was a pen and a piece of paper on the table in front of her.

“But you
killed
your sister. She would have helped you, I’m sure,” she said, hoping to distract him from the sister that was still living. “Emilia was a good person. She would have given you money.”

“Not enough,” he said. “I need the inheritance. It should be
mine.”
He got up again and began pacing around the room. “Why would she take me off the will? First Father disowns me, and then her, it wasn’t fair.” Without warning, he swooped towards Martha and grabbed her arm. “Sign it! Just sign it already!” Moira watched helplessly as her friend screamed and tried to pull away from the madman who was trying to force her to pick up the pen.

“If I sign it, you’ll kill me,” she sobbed.

“I won’t. I promise. Not if you sign it right now. You can get up and leave,” he said softly.

“W-what about Moira?” her friend asked, gazing up at her brother with wide, tearful eyes.

“She can leave too. She’ll drive you home. Doesn’t that sound nice?” He released her arm and gently stroked her hair. “Just sign the will. Everything needs to go to me.”

James was focused completely on his sister, so Moira took the opportunity to try to stand up. It was a mistake—her head spun, and agonizing pain shot through her ankle. She collapsed back to the floor, barely managing to keep herself propped up against the bed.

“I’m not stupid,” Martha was saying. “This will says what happens to the money when I die. You wouldn’t be making me sign it if you weren’t going to kill me.” She began crying again, and James turned away from her, aiming a sharp kick at the bed in frustration. His eyes landed on Moira, and she could see the idea forming in his cruel face.

“Martha,” he said in an almost gentle voice. “If you don’t sign it, I will kill your friend right here in front of you.” He reached into his pocket to pull out a knife, which he flicked open with a practiced twitch of his wrist. “You’d better decide. Now.”

Moira closed her eyes as the man advanced towards her. Should could hear her pounding heart, and the soft sobs of her friend… and the wailing of sirens in the distance. Her eyes snapped open. It must have worked—she had called the police station right before slipping the phone into her pocket in hopes that they would be able to find her and Martha. She only had to keep him talking for a few more minutes.

“Just think about what you’re doing, James,” she said quickly. “You’re going to get caught. It isn’t worth it. Just let us go.”

“The people I owe money to will kill me if I don’t pay up,” he said, taking another step towards her. “So it’s you or me. And I’ll always choose me.” He leaned over, the knife gleaming in the dim light. She realized that she couldn’t hear the sirens anymore. Had she been imagining them?

“I’ll do it,” Martha said quickly. “I’ll sign it. Just get away from her… please.” James stepped back with a smug smile on his face. The expression only lasted a moment, because a second later, the door to the motel room was slammed open, with what looked like the entire Maple Creek Police Department standing outside.

“Oh my gosh, Mom! Are you okay?” Candice rushed towards her mother, but refrained from wrapping Moira in a hug when she saw the bandage on her head and the crutch on which she balanced.

“I’ll be fine.” Moira smiled reassuringly at her daughter and looked around the front room of Darling’s DELIcious Delights. The whole gang was there—Candice, of course, her eyes both worried and relieved; Darrin, his usually jovial face serious; and Dante, looking somehow both nervous and happy. David followed her inside, wearing a serious expression.

“What’s wrong with your head?” her daughter asked.

“I hit it when I fell,” she replied. “And I sprained my ankle. The doctor said I’ll be as good as new in a few weeks. I can’t believe you all waited here for me.” It had taken her a few hours to get medical attention, then David had picked her up from the hospital and taken her to the police station to share her story with the detectives. She was still in shock at the thought that she had almost been killed, but she was relieved that James had been caught and that both she and Martha were alive.

David put his hand lightly on her shoulder. “We were all worried about you,” he said. He looked around at the small group. “You have some good friends, Moira.”

“I know.” She smiled at them all again, feeling unusually emotional. “Thank you all so much. For everything.”

Her second near-death experience in just a few months had shaken her up badly, but it had also showed her just how much she had to live for. She was looking forward to starting the next part of her journey with her friends and family by her side.