Creamy Casserole Murder: Book 15 in The Darling Deli Series Read online

  “What about her son, though?” she asked. “If Reggie was right, then he really could have a motive to kill her.”

  “Without any other evidence, a motive isn’t enough,” he pointed out. “Look, if you really think that there’s something to what Reggie is saying, I’ll take a look around. Otherwise, let’s just enjoy our lunch and do our best to convince him that Beatrice’s death, though tragic, was a natural death.”

  “At first I didn’t think there was anything to his story, but he just seems so sure…” She sighed. “You’re right. This is an old folk’s home. People pass away from natural causes all the time. I just hope Reggie will listen to us when we tell him that his friend wasn’t murdered.”

  Despite their best efforts, however, the old man refused to listen.

  “I know what I heard. Beatrice was struggling with someone—she was being attacked. I thought you of all people would believe me.” The look he gave Moira made her flinch. No one had ever looked at her with such disappointment in their eyes. Had she really let him down so much? Would Reggie ever forgive her?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The next few days passed in a blur of activity; despite her plans for taking it easy her first week home, both the deli and her personal life demanded her attention. It was easy to get back into the swing of things, but she occasionally found herself longing for a return to the tropical beaches and impeccable service of the cruise. The coffee that she brewed at home just could not compare to the exotic flavors that had gushed from the ship’s espresso machines every morning. One thing that she did appreciate about being home was the privacy. On the cruise ship, the only time she was really alone was in her small room under the main deck; it was a wonderful feeling to be able to sit outside on the back porch and enjoy the peaceful morning without another soul within sight.

  It wasn’t until the weekend that she finally had a day off. Saturdays were one of their busiest days, but she had absolute faith that her employees would be able to handle anything routine that got thrown at them. She was looking forward to a well-deserved break from the deli, and the chance to catch up with her friends. She had met Denise and Martha on Wednesday morning for their weekly cup of coffee together, but none of them had been able to stay for long. She had barely finished telling them about everything that had happened on the cruise when she had picked up a call from Dante saying that the oven wasn’t working. So she’d been forced to rush back to the deli before she got a chance to ask her two friends if they had done anything interesting since she had last seen them.

  Taking advantage of the fact that she didn’t have to wake up early to rush in to work, Moira slept in late on Saturday morning. She felt refreshed when she rose, and once again wondered what on earth she had been thinking when she changed the deli’s hours to include breakfast. Back when we opened in time for lunch, I was never out of bed before eight, she thought. Now I’m regularly up to my arms in food prep by seven. She didn’t regret the decision, though, not really. The deli was bringing in a lot more customers now, and the extra hours let her hire more employees. She was glad to be able to give the wonderful young people working for her a good job. One problem with living in such a small town was that employment was hard to come by outside of tourist season.

  “I may not like waking up at dawn,” she said out loud, talking to her dogs as she often did, “but I do love everything else about my job. And I still get to sleep in a couple of days every week. That’s not too bad, is it?”

  Maverick thumped his tail, not understanding her words, but nonetheless happy to hear her voice. Keeva came over from the other side of the bed to see what all the commotion was about, and shoved her cold, wet nose right into Moira’s face. Wincing, the deli owner took this as a sign that it was time to start the day.

  She had only a few hours of free time before she had to leave to go to a late lunch Karissa, David’s sister, was hosting. Martha and Denise had also been invited. She was just itching to cook something to bring along, but the other woman had specifically told her that she didn’t have to bring anything. Since her relationship with Karissa had had a bumpy start, she decided not to push it—she would accede to the woman’s request and come empty-handed.

  She spent the morning by taking a nice, long walk in the woods with the dogs while sipping from a travel mug of coffee. Her thoughts were on Reggie—she hadn’t heard from him all week, and Candice had called a couple of days ago to tell her that the elderly man seemed depressed. Even though she knew she hadn’t done anything intentionally wrong, Moira couldn’t help feeling a sickening guilt at the thought of how betrayed Reggie must feel.

  He came to me for help, and I told him I didn’t believe him, she thought as she walked along the trail. The two dogs were gallivanting ahead of her, crisscrossing the path with their noses to the ground. She smiled, their obvious joy lifting her spirits. I guess there’s nothing else I could have done, short of lie to him. And even then I wouldn’t have had the time to go chasing after a killer that didn’t exist.

  “Come on, you two,” she called as they rounded the last bend before the trail opened up to her yard. “It’s time to go in.”

  Back inside she got the dogs settled, refilling their water bowl and checking them over for ticks, before heading upstairs to shower and get ready for the lunch with Karissa, Martha, and Denise. She was glad the three women had become friends. David’s sister was new to town, and could certainly use people to talk to, and it never hurt to have someone else to bounce ideas off of. The only problem was that she still didn’t feel quite as comfortable around Karissa as she felt around the others. How could she, considering the embarrassing mistake she had made of thinking Karissa was David’s secret girlfriend when she first met her?

  “I’m so glad you could make it,” Karissa said as she opened her door to Moira’s knock. “The others should be here soon. Lunch is almost ready… get back, Hazel. Let her get inside before sniffing her, at least.”

  The last part was directed toward the beautiful chocolate lab that had shoved her head between her mistress’s leg and the door-frame. Not just her tail but her entire body was wiggling back and forth as she tried to get to Moira. The deli owner smiled, and after stepping inside and closing the door behind her, she crouched down and gave the excited dog some love.

  “How’s she settling in?” she asked Karissa.

  “It’s like she’s been here her whole life.”

  A few weeks ago, a very pregnant Hazel had been abandoned behind Darling’s DELIcious Delights. The deli owner had taken her in, unwilling to drop such a friendly dog off at the animal shelter—that was no place for puppies—and had ended up raising the entire litter until they were old enough to go to new homes. Karissa had originally planned on adopting one of the puppies, but had fallen in love with Hazel when they met and had ended up taking her home instead. Sending all the puppies and Hazel off to new homes had been an emotional experience for Moira, but she was confident that all of the dogs would be loved by their new owners.

  Hazel certainly seemed happy with her new lot in life, and the deli owner didn’t blame her. A plush dog bed lay by the couch, and there was a big basket of toys by the gas fireplace. The dog was wearing a nice new collar, with a brass nameplate riveted to the black leather.

  “David got that for her,” Karissa said as Moira admired the collar.

  “It’s nice,” the deli owner said. “It looks great on her. She’s a lucky dog.”

  Martha and Denise arrived within minutes of each other. By the time both women were inside and had found somewhere to set their purses and shoes, the oven timer was beeping. Karissa disappeared into the kitchen to check on the status of whatever it was she had made. Judging by the smell, whatever the dish was, it would taste amazing. Moira’s stomach growled, and she exchanged a grin with Martha.

  “Sorry I had to run out so quickly during coffee on Wednesday,” she said. “Somehow the stove got unplugged, probably while one of us was cleaning, and it wasn’t wor
king. Would you believe it took Dante, Meg, and me half an hour before we finally thought to check the outlet?”

  “At least it wasn’t anything you needed a repairman for,” the other woman said. Moira agreed. She had been terrified that one of the gas pipes had burst somewhere and that the entire deli would go up in flames at any minute.

  “All right, it’s time to eat,” Karissa said, reappearing from the kitchen and carrying a casserole dish between two oven mitts. “Let me just set this down, and I’ll bring the salad out.”

  The deli owner could tell even before serving herself the first spoonful of casserole that the meal was going to be delicious. Lightly browned breadcrumbs topped the dish, forming a crispy top over the creamy chicken, broccoli, carrots, peas, and rice that made up the rest of the casserole. The salad was crisp iceberg lettuce topped with cottage cheese, walnuts, and halved canned pears.

  “This is amazing,” Moira said after taking her first bite. It was the perfect meal to assuage her hunger, both filling and healthy.

  “Thanks,” the other woman replied, blushing. “I’ve been wanting to start cooking more since I moved here, though it’s a hard resolution to stick to with two great restaurants nearby.”

  “Nothing beats homemade food,” Denise said. “It may be easier to go out and pick up food from some place, but I’ve never found it as satisfying as eating something you make yourself.”

  The deli owner nodded. “That’s one reason I love the deli so much. I love watching people enjoy the food that I make. It’s a great feeling.”

  “It definitely is,” Denise agreed. She owned the Redwood Grill, a nice steakhouse on the outskirts of Maple Creek. “Though I don’t spend as much time in the kitchen these days. With two chefs, things are already pretty crowded.”

  Martha, who had been sitting quietly, listening to their conversation, chuckled. “At least you can cook. I’m lucky if I don’t burn my oatmeal. I’ve done that before, in fact, and had to stop at the deli on the way to work and get one of Darrin’s quiches. It was delicious and got me hooked—now I stop in at least twice a week for breakfast.”

  “You might want to stop in more often, now that we have the breakfast cookies,” Moira said.

  Martha groaned. “I love being your friend, but you and Denise are absolutely terrible for my waistline.”

  “I think we all have that problem,” Karissa said. “That’s another reason I wanted to start cooking for myself—if I don’t start paying more attention to what I eat, I’m going to have to replace all of my pants with the next size up.”

  They laughed and chatted about food for a few more minutes. Then, as Moira was reaching for a second serving of chicken casserole, Karissa cleared her throat.

  “How are things going with David?” she asked.

  The deli owner smiled. “Good,” she said. “Really good, I think.”

  “That’s good.” Karissa gave what almost seemed like a relieved smile. “You seem like you’re good for him, Moira. I hope things work out.”

  The conversation continued, moving into the realm of future vacation plans. Moira smiled and laughed along with the rest of them, but she couldn’t help wondering what Karissa’s non sequitur about David had been about. Had the private investigator asked his sister to do some digging? If so, did it mean that David thought she was having doubts about their relationship? I have been busy lately, she thought. I hope he doesn’t think I’ve been avoiding him. He’s one of the most important people in my life… I hope he knows that.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The concern that David might feel that she wasn’t fully invested in their relationship lately stuck with her, so later that evening she called him to see if he was interested in getting dinner at the Redwood Grill the next night. He agreed and sounded happy enough over the phone. Eager to make the evening special, on Sunday she went shopping for a new dress after her deli shift ended. She was just packing the bag with her new dress—dark green with a pattern of white roses along the hem—into her SUV when her phone rang.

  It was Candice.

  “Mom, can you come to dinner tonight with me and Eli at Misty Pines?” she asked.

  Moira bit her lip. “I’d love to, sweetie, but I’ve got plans with David. We’re going to the Grill for dinner.”

  “He can come too,” her daughter pleaded. “Reggie’s really down, and Eli thinks talking to you will cheer him up. I guess he has some new ideas about that lady that died there last week.”

  The deli owner closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against her car. She didn’t want to change plans with David at the last minute, but she already felt bad for Reggie. She owed it to him to go and hear him out, didn’t she?

  “I’ll call David and see if he’s okay with it,” she said at last. “I’ll let you know either way once I get in touch with him.”

  The private investigator answered his phone on the second ring, and quickly agreed to the change in plans. He didn’t sound like he was upset, but Moira wanted to make sure.

  “This is really all right with you?” she asked.

  “Yes. I like Reggie, and it’s been a while since I’ve seen Candice and Eli. It will be a nice dinner. Well… the company will be nice, anyway.”

  Even though Misty Pines had a private chef to cook for the residents, the food was always bland and soft. Many of the residents had special dietary needs, and it made more sense to make something that everyone could eat, and let people add the seasonings themselves, than to make a separate dish for each person. No matter how much salt she added to the beef stew, however, it would never compare to a steak at the Grill.

  “I’m sorry, David. I really am. We can still eat out somewhere else later this week, okay?”

  “Of course. And don’t worry about tonight, Moira. I really don’t mind.” His voice was warm, but she still couldn’t help but feel bad for changing plans at the last minute once again.

  Her new dress was too fancy to wear to a casual dinner at the assisted-living home, so she stashed it in her closet when she got home and pulled on a blouse and pair of black slacks instead. Her mind switched back and forth from thoughts of David to thoughts of Reggie the entire time she was getting ready. They were both good men, and she had let them both down. She was certain she could make it up to David—he would forgive just about anything for a good, home-cooked meal—but Reggie would be harder. If he was still going on about Beatrice’s death being a murder, she didn’t know what she would do. Maybe it would be easier to just pretend to believe him after all. A little white lie like that would be all right, wouldn’t it?

  Misty Pines was bustling that evening. The dining room was already nearly full by the time she and David got there, but luckily Candice and Eli had arrived first and had snatched up an empty table for them. Reggie was sitting with them already, and was talking animatedly. He looked a lot better than he had the last time Moira had seen him, and she smiled.

  “Hey guys,” Candice squealed when she saw them. “Thanks so much for coming.”

  The deli owner hadn’t had a chance to see her daughter much since they returned, and she was surprised at how tan the young woman still was. Of course, Candice had spent a lot more time out in the sun than she had… and she was still pretty tan herself, come to think of it.

  “Hey, Ms. D,” Eli said. “Mr. Morris. It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve seen you.”

  “Only a couple of weeks,” Moira said, but it did seem like it had been a long time to her, too. “How are you doing?” she asked Reggie.

  “Not too bad. These old bones are still walking, and that’s always a good thing.” She looked at him, trying to decide if he was mad at her or not. He was smiling, and seemed to be in a good mood. She felt relieved.

  “It sure is,” she said. “So, what’s for dinner tonight?”

  The main course turned out to be baked chicken breast, green beans, and applesauce. The staff member waiting on them that night winked as he put a bottle of barbecue sauce next to David.r />
  “So, how’s the ice cream shop doing?” the private investigator asked as he slathered his chicken in sauce.

  “Not bad for this time of year,” Eli answered. “We’ll close up for the season in a couple of months. Then I’ll probably start spending more time helping Candice and Logan out at the candy shop.”

  Logan was Denise’s nephew, a seventeen-year-old kid that Moira had hired to watch her dogs during her long days at work. When her daughter had announced that she was ready to hire her first employee, the deli owner had recommended him immediately. He was a good worker, and was okay with the small amount of hours that he got at the candy shop.

  “We’re doing really well,” Candice added. “Logan took care of things while we were away, and I just put in another order for custom molds. Selling chocolates online was a great idea.”

  The young woman had a friend with a 3D printer that made her custom silicone molds at a good price. She had begun selling the custom-shaped candies online for weddings, parties, and even businesses that wanted a good way to spread their name.

  “Remind me to order some from you,” Moira said. “I’ve no doubt that my customers at the deli would love them, and it never hurts to have even more ways of advertising.”

  “Too bad it’s not so easy to sell ice cream online,” Eli said. “I’d be in business year-round.”

  The deli owner smiled. So far things were going well, and Reggie didn’t seem upset at all. In fact, he hadn’t mentioned Beatrice’s death once, which was unusual for him. Eli’s grandfather was one of the stubbornest people she knew. The reason for his good mood became obvious just a few minutes later, when a middle-aged man approached their table hesitantly.

  “Um, sorry I’m late. Do you still want me to join you?” This was directed at Reggie, who nodded and gestured at the empty chair across from Moira.

  “Make yourself comfortable, Danny.”

  The man, who had floppy mouse-colored hair and bloodshot grey eyes, sat down. He pulled the chair closer to the table, wincing as is scraped across the floor with a honking noise.