Grilled Rye Murder: Book 16 in The Darling Deli Series Page 4

  “Is there anything you need, Jenny?” she asked at last. “I can give you time off, if you want. I know this is really rough for you.”

  “No, I think it’s best if I keep working. Thanks though, Ms. D. I just… I wanted to hear what really happened from you, you know? At least it sounds like it was quick. I hope he didn’t suffer much.”

  “I don’t think he did,” Moira said, the unpleasant image of Zander’s still body and the bullet wounds rising in her memory. “I don’t think he would have suffered much at all.”

  “What’s going to happen to Flower?” the young woman asked. “I know he loved her a lot.”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll call the police station later today and see if I can find out. Would you want to take her?”

  “I want to, but I can’t,” Jenny said regretfully. “I’m allergic to dogs. Nothing too bad, but having one around the house all the time would make me miserable.”

  “Well, I’ll see what I can do. Go on and get some rest, Jenny. You look exhausted. I promise to keep you in the loop.”

  The question of Flower nagged at her all day. She had kept up with all six of the puppies over the last year, but the little yellow runt had always been her favorite. Did Zander have anyone lined up to take care of the pup? If not, would the police let her take the dog home with her? The last thing she wanted was to see Flower end up in the pound.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Despite the fact that she was out of jail on sixty thousand dollars’ bail posted by a rich and mysterious benefactor, and was suspected of murdering a colleague and friend, life went on. Moira had a wedding to plan.

  She’d gotten a lot done over the past few months, but there was still one glaring detail that she hadn’t tackled yet; she needed a wedding dress. She was just about out of excuses to keep putting it off. There was no way she was going to lose that ten pounds between now and the wedding, not with all of the stress eating that she had been doing. And being too busy was hardly an excuse when she herself worked up the deli’s schedules. When her friends ganged up on her a couple of days after her arrest and told her that they were going wedding dress shopping with or without her, she finally gave in.

  “I don’t see why you put it off this long,” Denise said. “If you find something that you want to modify a lot, you’re not going to have time.” She, Moira, Martha, and Karissa were all piled into the deli owner’s green SUV, clutching iced coffees from their pit stop at the coffee shop, and surreptitiously brushing leftover breakfast cookie crumbs off their laps.

  “I know. I should have done this ages ago.” The deli owner groaned. “I was really hoping to lose that weight, though. I want to look good walking down the aisle.”

  “Moira, you look great,” Martha said. “What are you talking about? Since when are you self-conscious?”

  “I know it sounds stupid, but I’m terrified that when David sees me walking towards him at the wedding, he’s going to realize what a big mistake he’s making and run out of the church. I wouldn’t even blame him. I mean, look at me. I’ve got a muffin top, I’ve got wrinkles… and now I’m out on bail as a suspected murderer. What’s he even thinking, marrying me?” She fell silent, embarrassed by her outburst, but glad that she had finally told her worries to someone.

  “Moira, he loves you,” Karissa said, reaching forward from the back seat to give the deli owner’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Trust me. You’re the one for him.”

  “If he cared about those extra ten pounds you keep complaining about, then he wouldn’t be worth marrying anyway,” Martha pointed out. “And who doesn’t have some wrinkles at our age? He knows that you didn’t kill that guy. He’s already stuck with you through a lot more.”

  “You guys are right,” the deli owner said at last. “I know deep down that David’s not going anywhere… I guess this is just a case of pre-wedding jitters. Okay, I’m ready for this—let’s go find that perfect wedding dress.”

  Both Maple Creek and Lake Marion had more than their fair share of consignment and antique shops. While Moira wasn’t opposed to buying a new wedding dress, she wanted to look at some older ones first. Somehow the thought of buying a dress with history appealed to her; this wasn’t her first wedding, after all. It shouldn’t be the dress’s either.

  In her mind, she had envisioned herself walking into a consignment store, heading right to the back, and finding a gorgeous antique wedding dress to wear, that fit her perfectly and somehow made her look ten times more beautiful than she really was. The reality turned out to be a bit different.

  “I forgot… just how… tough… these are to put on,” Moira gasped as Martha gave a final tug on the back of the dress that she was lacing up. The deli owner waited as her friend tied the laces off.

  “Not bad,” the other woman said appraisingly.

  “I don’t know.” The deli owner eyed herself in the mirror. The dress was so tight, it felt like she was wearing a corset. It was satin, with a scoop neckline and no train. Not too heavy, it would at least be feasible to wear at a summer wedding. “It’s just… not quite right. I want something with more character.”

  “All right.” Martha sighed and eyed the back of the dress. “Now to get it off again…”

  It was hours before Moira finally spotted what she was looking for. The friends had exhausted the possibilities at the local consignment shops and had just entered the first antique shop on their list. It was a beautiful ivory dress with lace straps and a short train. Intricate designs were embroidered on the bodice, with real pearls on the neckline. The skirt flared out just the right amount without being overstated, and, best of all, it looked like it would fit her.

  The woman running the shop let agreed to let her try it on in one of the back rooms. “We don’t get many clothes in, so we don’t have dressing rooms. That one’s a real beauty, though, and we were happy to take it. Come on, right this way…”

  The other three two woman wandered around the rest of the shop while Martha and Moira followed the shopkeeper into a dusty storage room. The deli owner ducked behind a stack of boxes to strip off her clothes in privacy, and stepped into the dress. Clasping it to her chest, she called her friend over to lace it up.

  “Wow,” Martha breathed, stepping back and taking a good look at the dress after she had finished. “I think you’ve found your dress.”

  Moira, eager to see, followed her friend out of the back room and looked at herself in a mirror set into the door of an old wardrobe. The antique shop owner bustled over to see, followed by Denise and Karissa.

  “What do you think?” Martha asked her eagerly.

  “It’s… perfect,” the deli owner breathed. The dress fit her like a second skin. She could breathe and move easily, but it had enough shape of its own to give her a waist. The neckline was modest, unlike some of the too-revealing dresses that she had tried on earlier in the day. She turned, admiring the back of the dress and the graceful train. This was a dress that she would be eager for David to see her in.

  Martha undid the back of the dress and Moira hurried back into the storage room to change into her own clothes. She couldn’t wait to show Candice the dress that she had found. It was everything she had hoped for, and more. I’m glad I waited, she thought as she pulled her own clam-digger jeans back on. It was worth it to find something so beautiful to walk down the aisle in.

  She was putting the dress carefully back on its padded hanger when someone knocked on the storage room door.

  “Moira? Your phone is ringing. It’s that cop you’re friends with.”

  Why is Detective Jefferson calling me now? she wondered, her heart beginning to pound as she hurried to get the dress settled on the hanger. Did they get a break in the case? She hurried out of the room and grabbed her phone from Martha, leaving the wedding dress with her friends so she could step outside and take the call.

  “Hello?” she said when she answered it, bracing herself for bad news.

  “Moira, I’m glad you answered.
How are things going with you?”

  “Good,” she said. “I actually just found the perfect wedding dress.”

  “That’s good. Has anyone been bothering you?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Well, I saw a short clip on the news the other day, of you outside the deli talking to a reporter. They said you refused to comment at the time, but promised them an exclusive interview once you got your story straight. Those were their words, by the way. Not mine.”

  “Oh, that.” She rubbed her hand across her face. “I didn’t promise them an interview, I just told them I’d think about it. And I didn’t say anything about having to get my story straight first.”

  “I figured that was the case, but I wanted to check in. My professional opinion is that you stay far away from the media, Moira. Don’t give them that interview, don’t even say anything if they approach you again. They won’t cast you in a good light, and poor publicity really won’t help you if this ends up going to court.”

  “Okay. I’ll do my best to avoid anyone with a mic and camera. Any luck finding out who posted my bail?”

  “None,” the detective said. “I don’t know what to tell you. It could be related to the case, or maybe you just have a very good friend somewhere. Oh, before I go, there’s one more thing. I asked animal control about that dog, and they said you’re free to pick her up if you want to. You shouldn’t have any issues—I guess you and Zander were both listed on her vet records.”

  “That’s great news, Detective Jefferson,” Moira said with a rush of relief. “Thank you so much. I’ll pick her up this evening.”

  Smiling, she went back inside the antique shop. She had found the perfect wedding dress, and she got to break Flower out of doggy jail. It was turning out to be a pretty good day after all.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Though she was eager to pick up Flower from animal control, she still had one more wedding-related stop to make before the day was over. With her dress safely in the back of the SUV, she drove her friends to a small bakery in the middle of Lake Marion. She had no doubt that they would all enjoy what was waiting for them inside.

  “Moira, I’m so glad you could come on such short notice,” the older woman who ran the bakery said. She stepped out from around the counter and gave the deli owner a quick hug before introducing herself to her friends. “I’m Fanni Lemming, the owner of Angelic Cake Bakery. I think I’ve seen at least one of you in here before… yes, you stop in a couple of times a week for scones, don’t you?”

  “Yeah,” Karissa admitted, grinning. “I keep telling myself I should start making my own breakfast, but I just can’t get enough of your lemon scones.”

  “There’s no shame in that,” Fanni said with a grin. “If you like our scones, then you should love the cake samples I have for you today.”

  “We’re all very eager to try them,” Moira assured her. “We’ve been shopping all morning, and haven’t even had lunch yet.”

  “Great. I’ll get Colleen to bring out the samples. Why don’t you join me at the table in the back? It will be nice and quiet, and you can take your time going over each flavor.”

  Picking out the flavor of her wedding cake was something that Moira had been looking forward to for weeks. David wasn’t too picky when it came to sweets, so he had given her free rein. With him working extra now to make up for the time he would be gone from his cases during their honeymoon, she had agreed to do the tasting with her friends instead of trying to figure out when he could come along.

  “Oh my goodness, I love this strawberry cake,” Martha said, taking another bite of the small sample piece on her plate. “I’ve never had anything like it.”

  “You loved the vanilla and the lemon cakes, too,” Karissa said, chuckling.

  “They’re all good. I’ve never been to a wedding that actually had good cake, but Moira won’t be able to keep me away from this.”

  The deli owner chuckled, taking a small bite of her own. The strawberry cake, with white chocolate buttercream frosting was good. The cake itself wasn’t too sweet, and she knew Fanni had used real strawberries in it. It tasted fresh; perfect for a summer wedding.

  Then again, all of the flavors she had tasted so far had been good, and she still had three more flavors to try: chocolate, coconut, and mocha. When combined with all of the options for frosting and fillings, plus the fact that she could have a different combination of flavors on each tier, the deli owner knew she was going to be faced with some very difficult choices indeed.

  “Here’s the double chocolate with cocoa mousse,” Fanni said, reappearing with another set of plates with small sample pieces on them. The deli owner tried a bite, and was floored by the decadent flavor. At this rate, how was she ever going to choose? Each bite was better than the last.

  “So, what do you think it will be?” the bakery owner asked when they had finally finished tasting the last sample; a light and fluffy coconut-flavored cake. “Or do you want some time to talk it over with the lucky man first?”

  “I think I’m going to have to ask him,” Moira said. “We can do different flavors for each tier, right?”

  “Sure thing. I can do pretty much whatever you want—different-flavored tiers, any size or shape of cake you’d like, fondant, buttercream, or even whipped frosting…”

  “Let’s stick with the buttercream,” the deli owner told her. “Fondant looks nice, but it doesn’t taste good, and whipped frosting won’t last for long before it starts to wilt. I think buttercream is a nice compromise between them.”

  “It’s nice to talk with someone who knows what she wants,” Fanni said with a chuckle. “Go ahead and take a few days to talk it over. Do you think you could let me know by Monday at the latest?”

  “Definitely. I should be able to give you a call tomorrow, in fact. Thanks so much, Fanni.”

  With their bellies full of sugar, the four woman left the bakery in search of some real food. Feeling nostalgic, Moira suggested Arlo’s Diner. The diner had been around for as long as she could remember, and she and Candice had gone there every week when Candice was younger. Run by the same irascible elderly gentleman, the food hadn’t changed much at all for over twenty years. It was a blast from the past for Moira and Martha, who had both grown up in Maple Creek.

  “I can’t believe old Arlo is still running this place. Didn’t it come close to closing down a while ago?” Martha asked, idly swirling the last of her fries in ketchup.

  “A couple of times,” Moira told her. “But he pulls through. I doubt he makes much money off of this place, but he sure loves it. Give me another twenty years at the deli, and I’m sure I’ll be just like him.”

  “David will keep you on your toes,” Denise assured her. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll hand the deli off to Darrin when the time is right, and enjoy some well-earned retirement.”

  “Maybe.” Moira wrinkled her nose. “I’m not ready to think about all of that yet, though. First I’ve got to get through the next few weeks without having a breakdown or getting hauled off to jail again. Come on, we should get going. Talking about the deli reminded me—I need to stop there and drop off next week’s schedule before going to pick up Flower from animal control.”

  After saying goodbye to her friends, and thanking them sincerely for spending the day shopping with her—they really were the best group of bridesmaids she could ask for—she drove over to the deli and popped inside just as Darrin was finishing up a transaction with a customer. Not wanting to interrupt, she dropped the schedule off next to the register and started to head back towards the door.

  “Ms. D, wait,” Darrin said quickly. “I’ve got a message for you from someone. Hold on…”

  He finished ringing up the customer, then pulled open the drawer beneath the register and pulled out the yellow notepad kept there for just that purpose.

  “A kid stopped in a few hours ago and wanted to know when you’d be in again. I told him tomorrow morning, and he said he would stop
by. He wanted to know how Hazel was doing.”

  Moira blinked, stunned. She had long since given up finding out who Hazel’s first owner had been. Nearly a year ago, someone had abandoned the pregnant dog behind the deli with nothing but a note begging the deli owner to take care of her. Why was her original owner choosing now to come looking for her?

  “A kid?” she asked.

  “Yeah, maybe twelve or thirteen. He rode his bike over, and I didn’t see any parents.”

  “Thanks for telling me, Darrin. I’ll have Karissa send me some new pictures of Hazel tonight so he can see that she’s happy. I hope he doesn’t want her back… Karissa loves that dog, and Hazel is utterly spoiled.”

  She left the deli with her good mood slightly dampened. It would be wonderful to be able to give the kid good news about his dog, but she couldn’t help wondering why he was choosing now, nearly a year after leaving her tied up behind the deli, to find out what had happened to her. Maybe he saw that news story about my arrest and Zander’s murder, she thought, feeling a new rush of anger towards the reporter and whoever had been leaking information about her at the police station. And now the poor kid thinks he gave his dog to a killer. Well, come tomorrow, she would set his mind at ease. Hazel was very happy with David’s sister, and that would just have to be good enough for the kid.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “I’m glad Jefferson talked Animal Control into letting you bring her home.” David reached down to scratch the little yellow dog’s ears. Flower wriggled with joy. She had been ecstatic ever since Moira had picked her up, and her energy showed no sign of fading.

  “Me too. She looked so unhappy there. I hated seeing her locked in that cold metal kennel,” the deli owner said. She prodded her fork at the salad on her plate. The cherry bourbon dressing was one of her favorites, but she had no appetite. What had happened to her good mood from earlier in the day?

  Seeing Flower in that kennel was like being back in jail myself, she thought. I’ve been doing my best not to think too much about my arrest, but that’s a mistake. If something goes wrong in the investigation, I could end up in prison.