Pastrami Murder: Book One in The Darling Deli Series Page 2

  “Not very well,” Moira told him. “I’d spoken with him a couple of times. It’s a small town, and we’re both business owners. You know how it is.” Detective Fitzgerald scrawled something on the note pad before speaking again.

  “Is the Soup Shoppe direct competition to your store?” he asked.

  “Well, only sort of,” Moira began. “The Soup Shoppe is more of a restaurant, the sit down and eat type. I’m a deli, so while I do offer fresh sandwiches, salads, and soup, I also sell a lot of prepackaged foods. Quite a few of my customers come here mainly to buy the locally sourced cheeses, meats, and bread that I sell.” She offered the detective a tentative smile. “So even if someone eats lunch at the Soup Shoppe, they can still stop here to pick up something for later.”

  “But it is true that you would likely see an increase in the number of customers that you have if the Soup Shoppe were to close?” The detective tapped the end of his pen against his lips as he waited for her to answer. Moira was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the way he was talking to her. His expression was cold, and he was looking at her with suspicion.

  “Yes, a slight increase, but I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” Moira pursed her lips. “What is this all about?”

  “It’s just routine, ma’am,” the other detective, Jefferson, chimed in. “We just need to ask a few questions any time there is a suspicious death.” Detective Fitzgerald shot a glare at the younger detective, but Moira spoke before he could say anything.

  “Are you saying you think someone murdered Mr. Devou?” She was shocked. She had assumed that the man had suffered some sort of accident, or maybe had a heart attack or something similar. She hadn’t had a chance to see the local news, which she was now regretting.

  “We’re just looking into all of the possibilities, ma’am.” Detective Fitzgerald made another note on his pad. Moira was beginning to feel that the situation was slipping out of her control. Did these detectives really think that she might have had a hand in a man’s death?

  “If he was murdered… well, that’s terrible. I would never wish that on anyone, even if he was putting me out of business. Which he wasn’t.” She felt tongue tied and confused. She honestly did feel bad that Henry Devou was dead, and hoped the detectives could see that.

  “Don’t worry, Ms. Darling,” Fitzgerald said. “This is just a preliminary investigation. We won’t know anything concrete until after we’ve run a few tests. The only reason we’re here is because we found something tying your restaurant to the crime scene.”

  “Well, I hope you find whoever’s responsible. Let me know if I can be of any more help,” she said.

  “Thank you. Here’s my card. If you think of anything else, please call me. And please let me know if you’re going to be leaving the area. We’ll be in touch.” He gave her a nod then turned on his heel. His companion, Detective Jefferson, smiled apologetically, then followed Fitzgerald.

  Once they were both out of the store Moira hurried over to lock the front doors, then collapsed into a chair. What had just happened? They couldn’t seriously think that she could have had anything to do with Henry Devou’s death, could they? And… why had the owner of the Soup Shoppe had soup from Darling’s DELIcious Delights at his house? He had never stopped in for something to eat before, at least not while she was at the counter. Danielle’s dark curls appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. She took one look at her boss slouching in the chair and rushed over.

  “Are you alright, Ms. D?” Danielle asked.

  “Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Moira assured her. “I’m just a bit overwhelmed. Two detectives just questioned me. Apparently Mr. Devou’s death was suspicious, and they think I might have had something to do with it.”

  “Oh.” Danielle’s face paled. “I’m sure they don’t really think that. I mean, they must question lots of people.”

  “The older detective, Mr. Fitzgerald, seemed to think that the fact that we were competitors gives me motive.” Moira shook her head. “It’s just ridiculous. I wouldn’t even dream of hurting someone.”

  “I know, Ms. D.” Danielle patted her arm gently. “It will be alright.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Despite Danielle’s assurances, Moira couldn’t help feeling shaken by the incident. It was bad enough that a man might have been murdered. Moira couldn’t believe that she was a possible suspect in the eyes of the police. She hoped that they would realize that she was innocent as soon as possible. She suddenly remembered how Mary-Lou had behaved earlier, and how even her regular customers had looked at her warily before ordering. Could it be that they had seen the report of Henry Devou’s death on the news, and had come to the same conclusion that the police had? The thought of her customers suspecting that she might have had something to do with Mr. Devou’s death stung.

  What she needed to do now was to catch up on the news. She now wished that she’d asked Darrin more questions when he had called that morning, but she had been too worried about Candice to think of it.

  When she got home, the first thing she did was switch on the television. She had hoped that there would be a rerun of the story that Darrin had seen that morning, but she had no such luck. Moira wasn’t usually one to record the news, so she had no way of viewing any programs from earlier in the day. It looked like the Internet would be her only hope of figuring out what was going on.

  A few minutes later, she had pulled up a local news website. She clicked on a link that had Henry Devou’s name in it, and began to read. Just as her employee had told her, Henry had been found dead by his sister in the early hours of the morning. Moira had never met the man’s sister, but she immediately felt terrible for her. What a horrible thing to have happen, she thought.

  The site reported that police investigations were still pending. There was no information about cause of death, but the reporter did state that an officer had leaked information that led her to believe that the death was suspicious. So why do people think that I had something to do with it? Moira wondered. She found her answer in a small blurb at the bottom of the page.

  Henry Devou gained local fame last year when his local restaurant, the Soup Shoppe, became a franchise, with various locations opening all over the state in just a few short months. Reports state that his success came at a price to his competitors. At least two local restaurants, Darling’s DELIcious Delights, and Arlo’s Diner, have reported a loss of customers since the Soup Shoppe gained state-wide popularity. A take-home bowl of soup from Darling’s was found at the scene of the crime, a suspicious find at the house of the deli’s competition. Could Henry Devou’s death have been a last-ditch ploy to save a dying business? Is there a murderer walking the sleepy streets of Maple Creek? Subscribe to our email list to keep up to date with the latest news about the death of Henry Devou.

  Moira stared at the screen for a moment, her eyes narrowed. Who had told the Maple Creek News that her deli was losing customers? While she had been getting in slightly fewer customers than usual, the difference hadn’t been enough to affect business much. As she had told the detective, her deli was more than just a soup and sandwich shop, and it was doing just fine, thank you very much. This article made it sound like she was being put out of business by the Soup Shoppe, which was just not true.

  In addition to manipulating the facts to make it sound like the deli was in trouble, the website also seemed to imply that she and Arlo were possible murder suspects. Moira was fuming. As far as she could tell, the police hadn’t even released any official reports about Devou’s death. All the reporters were doing right now was fear mongering, which wasn’t fair to her or to Arlo—a sixty-year-old man who had owned the small diner on Main Street for over half his life. Maybe I should call them and complain, Moira thought.

  She started looking for the Maple Creek News telephone number when she heard a key in the front door. A moment later, the door opened and she heard Candice call out, “Mom?”

  “In here, sweetie,” Moira called back. She c
ould deal with the bad publicity from the news later. Right now, she wanted to spend some quality time with her daughter—and catch Candice up on the day’s events.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Wow, Danielle, this is delicious.” Moira took another bite of the sandwich her employee had surprised her with. The toasted olive bread crunched as she bit into it, then the savory flavors of roast beef, caramelized onions, melted swiss cheese, and steak sauce flooded her mouth.

  “I thought it would go well with a French onion soup. Maybe we could serve it later this week.” Danielle bit her lip. “If you think it’s good enough, of course. It’s just something I whipped up this morning. I was feeling creative.”

  “I think it will be perfect.” Moira gave her employee an encouraging smile. “Do you think you can make another couple of these? We can try them out on Darrin and Candice when they come in later.”

  “Sure, I’ll get started right away.” Danielle beamed at her and then hurried back into the kitchen. Moira was glad to see such enthusiasm from the young woman. Ever since Henry Devou’s death a week ago, she had been unusually withdrawn and emotional. A quick peek through the swinging door showed Danielle humming to herself as she worked. The sight of her eagerly slicing roast beef was definitely an improvement from her demeanor just a few days ago.

  Moira decided to let Danielle work in peace, and returned to the counter. There was a lull between customers, and she took the opportunity to straighten up. Keeping the store tidy seemed to be a never ending job, but it was one that she didn’t mind.

  She was crouching in front of the cheese section, trying to figure out how on earth the packages of swiss had gotten mixed in with the white cheddar, when she heard the front door open. She looked over her shoulder with a smile on her face, ready to greet a customer, and was surprised to see the familiar face of Detective Fitzgerald looking down at her. Moira stood up quickly, self-consciously straightening her apron as she turned to face him.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, keeping her tone polite even though just seeing the detective set her on edge.

  “I would like to ask you a some more questions, Ms. Darling, if you don’t mind. Can you accompany me to the station?” he said.

  “Right now?” Moira frowned. “It’s the middle of my business hours, detective. We’re just about to get our evening rush. I really can’t leave the store right now.” Detective Fitzgerald sighed and looked around at the empty store.

  “How about I ask you a few questions here, and then you come down to the station later if we need to ask you anything else. Does that work for you?” he asked.

  “Yes, thank you.” She glanced outside, but the younger detective was nowhere in sight. If she had two answer more questions, she would rather talk to Jefferson; he had seemed like the nicer of the two. “Um, would you like something to eat or drink?” She almost added it’s on the house, but at the last moment she realized that it might sound like she was trying to bribe him.

  “No thank you.” He gestured to the nearest table. “Please take a seat Ms. Darling. This won’t take long.” Moira sat down, her mouth suddenly dry. She hadn’t done anything wrong, so why did she feel so nervous?

  “Where were you last Saturday evening?” He touched his pen to his notepad, and looked up at her expectantly.

  “I was at home,” she said, thinking back. “Well, actually, I went shopping after work, and then I went home.”

  “Where did you go shopping?” he asked.

  “Tulman’s Fresh Market,” she said, naming the local grocery store. “I was buying some things for dinner.”

  “Did you go anywhere after you went home?” He made a note.

  “No. I stayed in all night. I watched some television, and then went to bed.” She hesitated, then decided that it would probably be safe to ask him a question of her own. “Have I done something wrong, Detective Fitzgerald?”

  “I’m just gathering information, Ms. Darling. Nothing to worry about.” He held her gaze until she looked away, and then continued with his questioning. “Is there anyone that can confirm your whereabouts for last Saturday evening?”

  “Well, the cashier at the store would probably remember me being there. Her name’s Rachel, she’s a friend of my daughter from when they were in high school,” Moira told him.

  “How about after you left? Can anyone confirm that you were at your house?” He tapped the pen against his lips, a mannerism that she remembered from the last time he had questioned her.

  “No,” she said, remembering with a sinking feeling in her gut. “Candice, my daughter, lives with me, but she spent last Saturday night at a friend’s house.”

  “Hmm.” Detective Fitzgerald took a few more notes, and then slipped his pen back into his pocket. “That’s all for now, Ms. Darling. We’ll be in contact with you if we need anything else.” He glanced at his notepad. “Do you have any employees in today?”

  “Yes, Danielle is in the back.” Moira straightened in her seat. “But please try not to be too hard on her. She’s been very upset by all of this.”

  The detective raised an eyebrow but only said, “Could you please send her out?” Reluctantly, Moira rose from her chair to go find her employee. She didn’t like the thought of Danielle being interviewed by the stern detective, but she knew that there was nothing she could do about it.

  “Did he say why he wanted to talk to you guys?” Darrin asked. The sandwich that Danielle had made for him was sitting untouched on his plate. She had just closed the store for the evening, and the four of them—her, Danielle, Darrin, and Candice—were sitting in the dining area together. Soon after hiring Danielle, Moira had started a tradition of having employee dinner meetings once a week, where she supplied a free dinner and they all got a chance to talk about business and plan the next week’s specials. Normally the topic of conversation stayed on food, but tonight they had gotten sidetracked when Moira mentioned Detective Fitzgerald’s visit.

  “No.” Moira shook her head. “He just asked me where I was the night that Henry Devou died, and then told me he’d be in contact if he needed anything else. Did he explain anything when he talked to you?” She glanced over at Danielle, who shook her head.

  “Nope, he just said the same things as he said to you. He asked where I had been, and if I had anyone who could confirm it.” Danielle’s eyes darted over to Darrin, and then away again. The motion was so quick that Moira thought she must have imagined it.

  “Do you think that detective is going to question Darrin and me too?” Candice asked.

  “I don’t know, Candice. But there’s nothing to worry about if he does. Just be yourself and answer truthfully.” Moira gave her daughter what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

  “So have they decided that Devou’s death was actually a murder?” Darrin looked around at the rest of them. “I mean, the police wouldn’t be questioning people if he had like, had a heart attack or something, would they?”

  “I doubt it,” Moira said. “I don’t know much about how this stuff works though. Maybe something will be on the news tomorrow.” She shook her head. “A murder in Maple Creek. Things like that just don’t happen here. If someone did kill Henry Devou, I hope they catch him quickly. The thought of a murderer in town is just terrifying.”

  CHAPTER 7

  At first Moira thought the pounding was part of a dream, but she quickly realized that it was the sound of someone knocking on the door. Knocking loudly. She stumbled out of bed and pulled on her bathrobe as she stepped into the hallway. Candice poked her head around her bedroom door, her brown eyes wide.

  “Who is it?” she asked.

  “I’ve got no idea.” Moira hesitated at the top of the stairs. “You stay up here, alright?” She remembered the conversation from last night. The talk of killing and murderers had put her on edge. Candice nodded, biting her lip in concern before ducking back into her bedroom. The pounding came again, and she made her way down the steps.

  She opened the front door to find
two uniformed police officers on her porch.

  “Moira Darling?” one of them asked.

  “Yes, that’s me,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

  “We’re going to need you to come down to the station.”

  “Am I… am I under arrest?” The two officers traded a glance, then the one who had been speaking shook his head.

  “No, you’re not. We just need to ask you some questions,” he told her.

  “Is it alright if I get dressed first?” Moira glanced down at her bathrobe. She really didn’t want to go down to the police station in her pajamas.

  “Go ahead,” the officer said. “We’ll wait for you out here.” She hurried upstairs, where Candice was waiting by her bedroom door. Her daughter had taken the time to get fully dressed, and was looking at Moira with concern.

  “I heard everything,” she said to her mother. “Why do they need to question you?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s just normal procedure.” Moira gave her daughter a reassuring smile. “Can you go to the store for me if I’m not back before it opens? Tell Darrin that all of the ingredients for the Soup of the Day are in the fridge, and that we need to order more of the bread and butter pickles.”

  “Of course I’ll go to the store. I’ll help out however I can, and I’m sure Darrin and I can call Danielle in if we need more help. But what about you, Mom? Do you want me to call anyone? What if they, I don’t know, arrest you or something?” Candice bit her lip, concern making her look even younger than she was.

  “I’ll be fine, sweetheart. If you get too worried, you can always call your father. I know he and I don’t get along very well, but he does love you.” She glanced down the stairs. “I’d better get dressed, Candice. They’re waiting for me.”

  Moira followed the officers down to the station, relieved that she had been able to drive her own car. She wondered what all of this was about. Why did the police keep questioning her about Henry Devou? She knew that she was innocent, but she couldn’t help feeling like she had done something wrong whenever she spoke to the police. She hoped that they weren’t questioning Danielle as much as they were questioning her. The poor girl didn’t need thoughts of her former boss’s death dragged up again and again.