Tomato Basil Murder: Book 7 in The Darling Deli Series (6 page)

“Um, I guess I’ll have a bowl of your soup,” the young man said. He was wearing a tee-shirt emblazoned with the name of some band that she thought Candice might have listened to years ago, and his hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his cargo pants. His gaze followed Meg as she helped an elderly man figure out which type of smoked turkey he had bought on his last visit to the deli. Moira thought the young man looked vaguely familiar, but couldn’t make her foggy mind concentrate enough to place him.
He probably works at the grocery store or something
¸ she thought.

“Just a moment,” she told him. “I’ll go get your order.”

When she came back with the soup in a to-go bowl, Meg was at the register ringing up the elderly man she had been helping. The younger man was slouched against the wall, waiting for his turn to pay. Moira handed his soup to Meg, who rang him up as soon as her first customer was done.

“Will that be cash or credit?” she asked.

“Cash, I guess.” The young man pulled a wallet out of his pocket and began rummaging around inside for the correct bills. Moira, who had begun wiping down the countertop, paused, the rag dropping from her hand. On the young man’s wrist was a gold watch, just like the one she had seen on Mike’s wrist the day before he had died. David’s words came back to her.

“Did he have fancy clothing, carry an expensive wallet, wear an expensive watch… anything that might have made him a target for a robbery?”

Was it possible that this watch, which looked so out of place on the bored young man’s wrist, didn’t just look like Mike’s watch, but actually
was
his watch? Was she selling soup to her ex-husband’s murderer?

Frozen in spot, Moira could only watch as Meg finished up the sale and the man left, soup in hand. She was mentally cursing herself for not stopping him, but what could she do? She couldn’t exactly
ask
him if he was a cold-blooded killer, and if he was, then trying to detain him might put her and Meg in danger.
Oh, how I wish he had paid with a credit card
, she thought as she watched him walk away. At least with a credit card payment, she would have his name. There was no way to track someone who paid with cash.

“Are you all right, Ms. D?” Meg asked. Moira glanced over to see her employee looking at her strangely. She realized she must look quite odd, standing as if rooted to the spot and staring after her latest customer.

“I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face. “Just lost in thought. It’s been a long few days. You know how it is.”

She made a hurried excuse and ducked back into the kitchen, where she quickly texted David telling him what she had just seen. Her body shook in disbelief. Was it really possible that her husband’s killer had just walked out of her store? Despite her shock, her mind felt clearer than it had for days. It was far better to be doing
something
to find the murderer, as opposed to just sitting around and waiting for someone else to solve the crime.

In the off chance that the young man might come back, Moira spent the rest of the day up front with Meg. She managed to greet each customer with a smile, while all the while keeping her eyes peeled for the young man in the concert tee. She couldn’t believe she had let him get away before; if he did come back for some reason, she vowed to come up with an excuse to find out his name, at the very least.
I wish I could remember where I’ve seen him before
, she thought.
If I do, I might be able to track him down.

“Thanks for stopping by,” she said a few hours later to the last customer of the day.

“You have the freshest food in town,” said Beverly, the blonde woman who was renting a room from Martha. She clutched the paper bag to her chest. “I haven’t even been able to find anywhere else that knows what arugula is, let alone who will make me a custom arugula and kale salad.”

“If you’re still going to be in town this coming weekend, you should stop by the farmers market,” Moira told her with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll be able to find plenty of garden-fresh fruits and veggies there. It’s where I get a lot of the deli’s fresh greens.”

“I’m not sure how long I’ll be around,” the other woman admitted. “I miss home, but I’m still not done dealing with the mess my ex left behind.” Her face momentarily twisted in anger, then smoothed out.

“I hope you two figure things out,” she told the blonde woman. “Feel free to stop by if you ever need a sympathetic ear.”

Moira watched Beverly leave, not entirely sure how she felt about the woman. She seemed nice enough, even if she did occasionally say something that made it seem as if she was disdainful of the small town.
If she’s still around next week, maybe I should invite her to coffee with Martha and Denise
, Moira thought.
Denise and I both have plenty of experience with cheating husbands; she might appreciate the chance to vent.

Deciding to talk to Martha about including Beverly in their next coffee date, Moira began the familiar task of closing the deli for the evening. She let Meg go once the kitchen was clean, and spent the last few minutes sweeping up the dining area by herself. She was glad that it was summer; in winter, when the days were shorter, night would have long since fallen. But right now, during the last weeks of August, there was still another hour or two of sunlight left after the deli closed—plenty of time for her to get back to the apartment and take Maverick to the park before settling in for the night.

She was locking the deli’s front door when she felt her cell phone buzz in the pocket of her khaki capris. She pulled it out, expecting to see David’s name on the caller ID, but instead saw Detective Jefferson’s. Her heart skipped a beat. Had the police found out something new about Mike’s death? Her keys still in the lock, she answered the phone.

“Ms. Darling, can you come down to the station?” said the familiar voice of the detective.

“I’m just closing up the deli,” she told him. “I can be there in just a few minutes.” She finished locking up, then paused.
Why did he call me “Ms. Darling”?
she wondered. After she had helped catch the man who had murdered his partner, the detective had become much friendlier to her, even using her first name when they ran into each other around town.

“Perfect. Thank you for being so cooperative.” He hung up, leaving Moira with a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She walked to her car. Before she started it, she sent a second text to David. Something about the detective’s voice had warned her that she might have just moved to the top of the police’s list of suspects.

“Ms. Darling, I would like to introduce you to Detective Wilson, my new partner,” Detective Jefferson said as he let Moira into the interview room.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said to the chestnut-haired woman standing on the other side of the table. She wondered again what she was here for. Was it a good sign or a bad one that someone other than Jefferson would be talking to her?

“Please, take a seat,” Detective Wilson said. She gestured to the single chair on the side of the table closest to Moira. Obediently sitting down, Moira couldn’t help but glance at the small camera on the ceiling in the corner. She much preferred talking to Detective Jefferson in his office, or even in the more comfortable room used for interviewing victims. This cold, dreary room set her on edge.
Which is probably the point
, she mused.

“I have no idea why I’m here,” she admitted as the two detectives sat down across from her. “Is it about Mike?”

“Yes, this is about your ex-husband,” Wilson said, folding her hands neatly in front of her. “Were you aware that he had recently named you as the beneficiary on his life insurance policy?”

“What?” Moira’s eyes widened. She was stunned. Why would Mike have done such a thing? Surely it must have been a mistake. He hadn’t offered her a cent of financial help over the years beyond what was required by law.

“He changed his policy about two weeks ago,” the female detective continued. She opened the folder in front of her. “At about the same time he bought the plane ticket for his trip out here.”

“That can’t be right…. He wouldn’t do something like that,” she told them. “Are you sure it’s me that he named as beneficiary, not our daughter, Candice?”

“Here, I’ll let you see for yourself.” The detective pulled a paper out of the folder and slid it across the table towards the deli owner. Moira stared at the paper in shock; even with her name clearly printed on the line, she almost couldn’t believe it. Then, with a sinking feeling of horror, she realized what the two detectives must think.

“I didn’t know about this,” she said, sliding the paper away from herself. “I swear. This is a complete shock to me.”

“I’m sure it is,” Wilson said, her grey eyes cold even as her voice softened. “I’m sure you understand though. We’re still going to have to ask you some questions.”

“Of course,” Moira said. She glanced at Detective Jefferson, desperate to see even the slightest hint that he believed her, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze.

“Where were you the day of your ex-husband’s murder?” the woman asked.

“I went to look at a house with Madeline Frau. She’s a realtor, and I’m sure she can confirm that I was there,” she said. Detective Wilson glanced over at Jefferson, who nodded.

“We went over this when I questioned her before. I called the real estate company and confirmed that she did meet Ms. Frau,” he told his partner.

“What did you do after that?” the female detective asked.

“I went to the deli. I didn’t leave until Detective Jefferson came to get me that evening.”

“Is there anyone that can confirm you were there?”

“Other than Darrin, one of my employees, no, there isn’t. And, as I told Detective Jefferson last week, I sent Darrin home shortly after I got there since the weather was so bad.” She sighed, racking her brain for any other alibi witness, but she couldn’t think of one.

“Look,” she added. “I know Mike was my ex, but we didn’t hate each other. I worked hard to make sure we had a civil relationship for Candice’s benefit, and I had no reason to kill him now for having had an affair ten years ago.”

“No reason, other than the sizable life insurance policy that is supposed to go to you,” Detective Wilson pointed out.

“I didn’t know about that,” Moira groaned, exasperated. “Besides, although I’m not rich, I don’t exactly
need
the money. Darling’s DELIcious Delights is doing pretty well, and I have—well, I had—alimony payments coming in.”

“If I remember correctly, you recently lost your house in a fire, and your daughter is about to embark on a risky new business venture.” Detective Wilson leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I’m sure the money from the life insurance payout would be very useful to you. I understand, Moira. You just wanted to make sure your daughter will have a good future. You were acting to benefit your little girl, weren’t you?”

“I didn’t do it,” Moira said again, feeling near tears. “I didn’t know anything about his life insurance policy, I didn’t even know where he was staying until after he was killed. I wouldn’t ever hurt anyone for money, let alone the father of my child.”

“I think we’ve questioned her enough for tonight,” Detective Jefferson said at last. Moira looked hopefully up at his face, but still couldn’t tell if he believed her or not. Either way, she was grateful to him for stopping the interview, even if it meant she would have to come back later for more.

“Very well,” Detective Wilson said reluctantly. “If you remember anything else about your whereabouts the day of your ex-husband’s death, please give us a call.”

Detective Jefferson walked Moira out of the building. He paused at the door to the police station and opened his mouth. For a moment, she thought he was about to apologize, but instead he shook his head.

“I’d suggest staying around town,” he told her. “You know the drill. Any trips to Canada or Mexico that I should know about?”

Mutely Moira shook her head. Once the detective had disappeared back inside the building, she got into her car and leaned her temple against the warm glass of the driver’s side window. It looked as if she had once again found herself the prime suspect in a murder investigation.

Even though she was exhausted and emotionally drained, she knew that she had to tell both David and Candice of the new turn that the investigation had taken. She checked the time—it was still early enough that chances were neither of them had eaten dinner yet.
I’ll see if they’re free; it would be nice to talk to both of them at once,
she thought.

Half an hour later, laden with two boxes of pizza, breadsticks, and a salad, she knocked on the door to Candice’s apartment. Humming to herself as she waited, she fell silent when she heard raised voices coming from the soon-to-be candy shop below.
What in the world…?
She set the boxes of food down outside Candice’s door and made her way back down the stairs. The back door to the candy shop was unlocked and, hesitating for only a second, she let herself in.

One of the voices she recognized immediately as Candice’s, but she didn’t recognize the other person’s until she made her way to the main room of the candy shop and found herself face to face with an enraged Adrian.