Chicken Club Murder (The Darling Deli Series Book 21) Read online

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHICKEN CLUB MURDER

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  Chicken

  Club

  Murder

  Book Twenty-One

  in

  The Darling Deli Series

  By

  Patti Benning

  Copyright 2017 Summer Prescott Books

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication nor any of the information herein may be quoted from, nor reproduced, in any form, including but not limited to: printing, scanning, photocopying or any other printed, digital, or audio formats, without prior express written consent of the copyright holder.

  **This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, places of business, or situations past or present, is completely unintentional.

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  CHICKEN CLUB

  MURDER

  Book Twenty-One in The Darling Deli Series

  CHAPTER ONE

  * * *

  Moira Darling set a tray with two bowls of curried carrot soup, half a chicken club sandwich, and a small salad in front of her husband and sat down across the table from him. David reached for one of the bowls and looked at it with mistrust before dipping his spoon in.

  “You know, I’ve spent most of my life avoiding food with exotic ingredients,” he commented. “Nothing like having a wife to broaden my horizons, I suppose.”

  “It’s just carrots, curry, and a few other ingredients,” she said. “Not exactly exotic.”

  He looked skeptical, but she noticed that after his first taste, he immediately dipped his spoon back for more of the light orange soup. She smiled. Her husband was very much a steak-and-potatoes sort of man, but at least he could always be convinced to try new things. More often than not, he seemed to like them, though he still preferred his old favorites most of the time.

  “So,” he said after they ate in silence for a few minutes. “Have you given any more thought to what you would like to do this weekend? We could go to the beach if you’d like. Or take a picnic to the park.”

  “We don’t have to do anything special,” Moira said. “I’ll probably just get lunch or coffee with Candice, and then spend the rest of the day at the deli.”

  The coming Sunday was Mother’s Day, a day that she always felt conflicted about. She deeply appreciated the countless small gifts that she had received from her daughter over the years, and had grieved the loss of the box of drawings and handmade cards in the fire that had burned down her family home two years before. However, she couldn’t help being reminded of her own mother on the holiday, and the memories brought back painful images of the happy family that had been taken from her so suddenly all of those years ago.

  “You should take some time for yourself and your family,” her husband said. “It’s Mother’s Day, and you’re a mother. Let yourself be pampered for a day.”

  Their conversation was momentarily interrupted when a customer walked in—a friendly-looking, slightly round bald man. She greeted him by name—he had introduced himself a while back as Mikey—before letting Allison, who was working at the register, take over. She turned back to David and continued their conversation without missing a beat, causing him to look amused.

  “Yes, I’m a mother, but all of my employees have mothers. I’m happy to work for the day so they can spend time with their families. I’m lucky enough to be able to see Candice a couple of times a week. Not everyone has the same chance to visit their families so often. Besides, Sundays are our shortest days. It’s only going to be a few hours.”

  David shook his head, but she saw a smile on his lips. “Well, that’s nice of you. I do wish you would take more time for yourself, though. You always seem so busy doing things for others—tending to things at the deli, helping me at the office, helping Candice with one project or another, even watching your friend’s dog. You must be exhausted.”

  “I enjoy doing all of those things,” she told him. “Really, I do. I know the deli would be just fine without me—and honestly Darrin is better at day-to-day scheduling and organizing the catering events than I am—but I just enjoy being here. I love helping you with your cases, and I treasure the time I get to spend with Candice, even if stripping wallpaper off the walls isn’t exactly fun. Soon enough she’ll be starting her own family and won’t have much time for me.” She chuckled. “And Diamond is no trouble. What’s one tiny little dog when we’ve already got our two big oafs underfoot?”

  “Just because you enjoy all of that doesn’t mean it’s not tiring. When’s the last time you had a vacation, other than our honeymoon? A real one, not just a couple of days off over the holiday.”

  Moira thought about his question. She knew she didn’t get away much, and the truth was it had been a while since she had taken the time to just sit back and enjoy life. “The cruise last year?” she ventured. “No, that hardly counts as a vacation.” Between the cooking competition and the murder, it had hardly been a relaxing trip. “Oh, all right. I’ll take a couple of days off soon. Not this Sunday, though; I already promised my employees they could have the time off. We can go somewhere nice. Maybe Mackinac Island? It’s always so peaceful there.”

  Her husband smiled. “That sounds wonderful. A real family trip.”

  It wasn’t long before their bowls were empty and the sandwich and salad were reduced to a few crumbs and a couple of leaves. Moira idly began to stack their dishes, feeling happy and just a little bit sleepy. It was well into the afternoon, around the time that she might have been tempted to take a nap if she was at home. David, who never seemed to be affected by the effects of a filling meal and a sunny afternoon, was already glancing at his watch.

  “Do you have to be somewhere?” she asked.

  “I’m meeting someone at the brewery in an hour. He’s interested in selling some of our drafts at his bar, but he wants a tour of the microbrewery first. Karissa was supposed to do it, but she called this morning to ask if I could handle it.”

  “Is she sick?” Moira asked with concern. She had always had something of a bumpy relationship with David’s sister, but despite that she liked her a lot. It was hard to imagine the headstrong woman feeling under the wea
ther.

  “I didn’t ask,” her husband replied with a shrug. “She sounded fine.”

  Well, she’s probably not a death’s door, then, the deli owner thought with mild exasperation. Men. Or maybe it’s just a sibling thing. She had a brother herself, but they weren’t close. They exchanged cards on the holidays when they remembered, and usually sent each other an email on the anniversary of their parents’ deaths, but she hadn’t actually seen him—or even heard his voice—in years. No, that wasn’t true; he had called her to congratulate her on her wedding the year before, though he hadn’t made an appearance.

  “What are you doing after this?” he asked.

  Their little lunch marked the end of her work day. Allison and Jenny would see the deli into the evening and handle the closing. “I don’t have any real plans,” she told him. “I thought I might go home and spend some time with the dogs, and maybe take a bath or read a book in the hammock.”

  “That sounds much more pleasant than the tour I have to give,” he said. “I’ll try to make it home before it gets late. I’ll bring something home for dinner. Chinese?”

  “Sure. Call me when you’re on your way, and I’ll make sure the table is set.”

  With that, they kissed goodbye and went their separate ways. Despite her earlier assurances that she enjoyed being so busy, Moira was looking forward to a peaceful few hours alone at home. A hammock, an enjoyable book, and a glass of chilled wine sounded like the perfect way to wind down at the end of a long day.

  CHAPTER TWO

  * * *

  Moira drove home with the windows down. She wasn’t in a hurry, and this was her favorite time of year—after the cold and damp of winter, but before the smothering heat and humidity of summer. The weather was perfect, and she wanted to enjoy every moment of it.

  The little stone house that she shared with David was on five wooded acres between Maple Creek and the neighboring town of Lake Marion. The curving roads cut a shaded path through the trees, making for a pleasant and picturesque drive. She often saw animals in the forest or crossing the road; everything from deer and squirrels, coyotes, and once a beautiful red fox. She hoped to catch a glimpse of a black bear one day, though hopefully not too close to her house. Somehow, she didn’t think the dogs would welcome ursine visitors.

  She slowed down as she neared her house to wave at a man who was setting up some sort of survey equipment across the street. He looked familiar—she wondered if he was a customer at the deli. The thing about living in such a small town was that everyone seemed to know everyone. It could be a good thing or a dreadful thing. Mostly it just meant that she always had to be prepared to put on a smile and try to pull someone’s name out of her memory, even when waiting for an oil change or standing in line at the library. There was very little privacy in a town the size of Maple Creek; it was one of the reasons that she loved the privacy afforded to her by her little stone house, nestled as it was in the trees at the end of a curving driveway.

  When she got out of her car she heard a single booming bark from the direction of the house. She smiled. That would be Maverick, her German shepherd. He was a big dog, and people tended to be wary of him—until they got to know him. Despite his size and the bad reputation of his breed, he was a sweet dog and loved people.

  Their other dog, an Irish wolfhound named Keeva, was just as loving, but not as exuberant. She was the calmer of the two, and would often wait until Maverick calmed down before greeting whoever had just gotten home.

  Moira unlocked the front door and opened it before stepping back to allow a whirlwind of fur and paws to rush outside. Both dogs took a big lap around the front yard before coming up to her. They sniffed her shoes thoroughly, let her pet them, and then took off again. She smiled and watched them play chase for a few minutes before calling them back inside. They would be able to come back out later, but right now she wanted to change and to pour herself that glass of wine.

  Half an hour later, she was laying barefoot on the rope hammock that David had installed just the week before. There was a small outdoor table to her right, where she had put her chilled glass of wine. The dogs were sniffing at the grass, and she had a novel in her hand. Life, she thought, is perfect.

  She had only gotten far enough to be introduced to the main character in her book when she became aware of an uncomfortable sensation, the feeling of being watched. Using her finger to mark her place, she sat up slightly and looked around. Both dogs were lying near the front porch, on the other side of the yard. They were chewing on a stick and paying no attention to her. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was nearby. Had her subconscious heard or seen something to put her on edge, or was her mind just playing tricks on her?

  She glanced up at the dark windows of her house, half-afraid that she would see a face peering back at her, but the house was still and silent, and none of the curtains even twitched. She glanced to her left, towards the band of trees and undergrowth that shielded the front yard from the road, but the spring growth had made it impossible to see through to the other side. Everything looked peaceful, so she shrugged and went back to reading. Maybe the book was putting her on edge. It was a thriller that looked promising, but she hadn’t gotten to any of the exciting parts yet.

  A few minutes later, just as the book was drawing her in again, she heard one of the dogs let out a low growl. She looked towards the house to see Maverick staring right at her, his hackles up and his lips lifted in a snarl. Keeva was standing next to him, looking in the same direction, completely motionless. The stick lay forgotten on the ground.

  The dogs weren’t looking at her, she realized, but past her. Her heart began to thud, and she turned her face slowly, inch by inch, until she could see the line of trees between her and the road. She was half expecting to see a knife-wielding maniac standing over her, but there was nothing there.

  She heard a noise—a soft, familiar sound—but she didn’t have time to process and identify it before there was a sharper sound; the snapping of a twig. She saw low hanging branches tremble, then heard something large crash away from her through the underbrush.

  Maverick began to bark, loudly. He raced forward, and she had to toss her book to the ground to grab his collar before he slipped past her and into the trees—and then to the road on the other side. It felt like he nearly jerked her arm out of her socket, but she hung on while he pulled and barked. By the time she was able to get him to settle down, she was sure whoever had been watching her was long gone.

  She was certain it had been a person and not an animal, having finally recognized the odd sound. It was the sound of a camera shutter as someone took a picture.

  CHAPTER THREE

  * * *

  Moira waited inside for David to get home. She tried to think of rational explanations for what she had heard, but her mind just kept coming back to that eerie feeling she had had of being watched. How long had whoever it was been standing there? And why had they been taking pictures? Even though she had been fully dressed and doing nothing more than enjoying a glass of wine, she felt violated and embarrassed.

  It was probably just some neighbor kid, she thought. Maybe they weren’t even taking a picture of me. Nature photography is popular around here. They may have been photographing a… a butterfly or something.

  Still, she couldn’t shake the sense that whoever it was had been watching her. She thought about calling the police, but knew that they probably wouldn’t be able to do anything. She hadn’t actually seen anyone, and it wasn’t like they could check the trees for fingerprints.

  When she finally got the call from David saying he was on his way home with the Chinese food, she was relieved. She set the table, then sat in the living room to wait for him. Normally she would have gone out on the porch to wait for him with the dogs, but she was still too creeped out by the thought of someone in the trees. Maybe she was overreacting, but when she was relaxing in her own yard, she expected privacy.

  She greeted David
at the door and gave him a quick kiss before taking the bags of Chinese food from him. While he took off his shoes and greeted the dogs, she laid out their dinner on the table. Takeout wasn’t exactly healthy, but when she had spent all day cooking for others, sometimes it was nice to sit back and eat something that someone else had made.

  It wasn’t until she had polished off the first spring roll that she told her husband the story of what had happened earlier in the day. She wished then that she had waited until after their meal, because he stood up immediately after she finished her tale.

  “Show me exactly where this was.”

  Casting a regretful look at the food that was sure to be cold by the time they returned to the table, she got up and followed him down the hall to the front entranceway, where they slipped on their shoes and he grabbed a flashlight from the shelf in the closet. It was evening, and under the cover of the trees, it would be nearly dark.

  “I don’t think we’ll find anything,” she told him as they walked across the yard. In truth, by now she just wanted to put the whole episode behind her. It had been creepy, but nothing had actually happened. She could have mistaken the camera sound. Likely, she had just startled a less than cautious deer.

  “We should still look,” her husband told her. “Now, where did the noise come from?”

  They were standing by the hammock. She positioned herself at the end where her head had been, and tried to concentrate. Where exactly had the sound originated?

  “Right over there,” she said. David switched on the light and pressed forward into the trees. She followed, using her phone’s light since she hadn’t thought to dig up a second flashlight.

  “See anything?” she asked after her husband had remained silent for a couple of minutes. In response, he shifted and pushed a branch back, beckoning her forward. She approached and looked where his light was shining on the ground. There, in the damp foil partially obscured by the low hanging branches of a bush, was half of a shoe print.