Shamrocks and Murder Page 6

  She kept her phone close by after she got home that evening, hoping that Denise would call to say that she had been released because the real killer had been caught. Moira had to trust that Jefferson would solve the case soon; she hated the thought of her friend spending more time in jail, not to mention the fact that she was currently keeping a secret from the police herself. Sunday morning, she told herself. If no progress is made on the case by then, I will tell Jefferson everything.

  Her alarm went off before the sun rose the next morning. Careful not to wake David up, she got out of bed and made herself a pot of coffee downstairs. She managed to get out the door in record time and made it to the deli well before it opened for the day, which should give her plenty of time to get a good start on the food for Thelma’s party.

  It had been a while since Moira had done a catering event; Jenny and Cameron usually handled them. The two worked well together and were both naturally outgoing and helpful. They had also proven capable of handling almost anything that might come up. They always got good reviews when she contacted the clients after the events, and she saw no reason to make her own life busier when she had employees that could do a task better than she could.

  She managed to finish cooking everything an hour after the deli opened. The crepes she would have to make there; they didn’t travel well, but they took only a very short time to cook. She was bringing her favorite electric frying pan along and had the batter all ready to go.

  It was with satisfaction when she finally slammed the refrigerated truck’s loading door shut. There was enough food inside to feed a small army, or at least that was how it felt when she had loaded it by herself.

  Thelma’s party wasn’t supposed to start until ten, but she wanted to get there early to help set up. This wasn’t just a job, after all. She was also helping out a friend. The day looked like it was going to be partly sunny, and if the weather held, she thought some of the party might take place outside. It was already warm out, even though the sun had only risen an hour ago.

  When she arrived at the farmhouse, she found Thelma outside shaking out the welcome mat. She was dressed in a pretty floral pattern dress and looked happy. The deli owner realized with a jolt that she had forgotten to bring a gift. It was her birthday, after all. How could she have been so thoughtless?

  “Do you need help with that?” Moira called out the window as she coaxed the large refrigerated truck to a stop.

  “I’ve got it handled,” Thelma called back. “Let me just finish this, then I’ll get the tables set up, and after that, I’ll be free to help you with whatever you need.”

  As Moira opened the back of the truck, she fumbled and dropped her keys. Sighing, she knelt and reached for them, but something made her pause. A small patch of clover was growing next to where the keys had fallen. One small shoot in particular had caught her eye. She reached out and plucked it, then smiled. Four leaves. She could use some luck right about now.

  Putting the plant carefully in her pocket, she grabbed her keys and stood up. She stared into the back of the refrigerated truck and put her hands on her hips, trying to decide what to take out first. She decided to grab the mini quiches. Out of everything, they were the most temperature sensitive. She wanted to get them into the fridge until it was time to heat them up for the meal.

  As she was unloading the truck, another vehicle pulled into the driveway behind her. She saw Darrin through the driver-side window and waved at him. She was grateful for his help today. She didn’t want to be responsible for the entire event on her own, not with everything else that was already resting on her shoulders.

  She grabbed one of the trays of mini quiches and carried it through the house to the kitchen. When she got back outside, Darrin was standing behind the truck, balancing a stack of serving trays on one hand as he reached for even more. Next to him stood Zach.

  “What’s he doing here?” Moira asked, feeling herself tense up as she stared at the frightened looking young man.

  “What you mean?” Darrin asked, looking puzzled. “You said I should bring the new hire to show him how we do it.”

  Moira felt her heart sink. She had forgotten that Darrin would be bringing the new employee today. She should have been more focused on the deli for the past week. If she had been, she would have remembered to tell Darrin to be very cautious about Zach.

  “Ms. D.? Is everything okay?”

  “It’s fine,” she said. “Darrin, when you get a chance, come find me. I’d like to go over some things one-on-one with you.”

  Setting up kept him busy, however, and Zach stayed glued to Darrin, listening to his instructions and helping where he could. Moira knew that she was staring at him, but she couldn’t help it. Was she looking at the man who had killed Hector?

  A few minutes later, Thelma came in and asked her again if there was anything that she needed. “I’m all set,” Moira said. “Thanks for asking, though.”

  Then she heard the sound of a car door slamming outside, and the other woman said, “That must be Miriam and her husband.”

  Moira was still staring at Zach as he set up the serving tables when Miriam and Thelma walked in, along with a man she didn’t know.

  “Alan, I wanted to introduce you to my friend, who has graciously agreed to cater for us today, Moira Darling. She owns Darling’s DELIcious Delights, the little deli in Maple Creek.”

  “I think I’ve driven by that place a couple of times,” Alan said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Moira shook hands with him, then greeted Miriam, who was looking around the room with approval. “No crepes yet?”

  “Not yet,” Moira said, smiling. “I’m going to get started on them soon. I should be all set by the time people begin to arrive.”

  “Wonderful,” Miriam said. “I can’t wait. This is the perfect way to celebrate thirty years of a happy marriage.”

  She linked her arm with her husband’s, and Moira smiled. Thirty years was a long time, but in front of her was living proof that it was achievable. With luck, patience, and a little bit of hard work, that might be her and David one day.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  * * *

  It wasn’t until after the party had begun that Moira got a chance to pull Darrin aside, leaving Zach at the serving table to keep an eye on the food. “What has he said to you?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?” Her employee looked puzzled. She realized that Darrin had no clue about the murder investigation. She hesitated. Would it be right to tell him? If Zach was innocent, it wouldn’t be fair to make Darrin suspicious of him.

  “I’m sure you heard about the murder at the Grill,” she said. “I just wanted to know if he said anything about that.”

  “No, he hasn’t mentioned it,” Darrin said. He still looked puzzled, so she let him go back to work.

  She felt bad. This wasn’t something that she should bring her employees into. The murder was something that had affected her personal life, not her business life. She was in a difficult position now; she couldn’t fire Zach on a suspicion, especially since he hadn’t even been charged with a crime yet. If he was innocent, it would be extremely unfair for her to treat him any differently than she would have treated any other new hire.

  “Denise, if only you could see how much trouble you’ve caused me,” she grumbled. Why had her friend chosen to involve her in all of this?

  She went back inside, only to be pulled to the side by Thelma. “The food is wonderful,” she said. “It makes me sad that Miriam isn’t down here enjoying it. I just wanted to assure you that it has nothing to do with you or your cooking. She’s working out some issues with her husband.”

  “I didn’t even notice that she wasn’t here,” Moira said. “I hope they get things figured out, especially since it’s their anniversary.”

  Why can’t anything ever go right? she wondered as she returned to the kitchen to make another batch of crepes.

  The problems just kept coming. “Ms. D., we need a new tablec
loth for one of the serving tables,” Darrin said, popping his head into the kitchen a few minutes later. “Someone spilled their plate, and it’s a horrible mess. Do you know where extras are?”

  “I’ll ask Thelma,” she said, but her streak of bad luck held. Thelma was nowhere to be found. Moira checked the living room, the bathroom, and the porch. It was on the last one that she finally found someone who knew where their host had gone; she had taken a group of guests out on a tour of the property.

  Fighting back a sigh, Moira went back inside and made her way upstairs. She knew where the linen closet was, and she didn’t think Thelma would mind if she grabbed another tablecloth. It was difficult to believe that she had been looking forward to catering this event; now she couldn’t wait for it to be over.

  The linen closet was at the end of the hallway on the second floor. Moira paused for a moment to admire the fresh paint in the hallway. It really was amazing how much a little care could do for a home.

  A burst of conversation drew her attention to one of the bedroom doors. It sounded like an argument. She didn’t want to interrupt whatever was going on; whoever was in that bedroom had obviously wanted their privacy. Moving quietly, she walked to the end of the hall, opened the closet, and pulled out a new tablecloth. It wasn’t until she was on her way back to the stairs that she managed to make out a clear sentence.

  “I told you, it’s been over with him for years,” the woman was saying.

  “I know you’re lying, Miriam. I thought we could work through this, but we can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Alan, please. It’s our anniversary. Don’t wreck this.”

  “I’m not the one who’s wrecking it,” the male voice snapped. “Do you know what I found in your dresser drawer at home?”

  There was a pause, then the sound of something heavy dropping onto a surface. Moira was enthralled with the conversation and couldn’t seem to tear herself away from the door, even though she knew eavesdropping was wrong. It seemed that this thirty-year marriage was far from perfect.

  “You went through my dresser?” Miriam asked after a moment, her voice weak.

  “We’re married, remember? For now, at least. What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine. And don’t try to turn this around on me. I know this was a gift from him. Tell me, when did he give it to you?”

  “Alan… I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t seen Hector for years. I promise.”

  Hector? Moira thought. Were they talking about who she thought they were talking about?

  “Right. And now that he’s dead, there’s no one to refute that story. I’m sorry, Miriam, but I just don’t believe you.”

  There were footsteps, and before Moira could move, the bedroom door opened. Alan stormed out, clutching a briefcase. Miriam was watching from inside the bedroom, her face stricken. Her expression changed when she saw Moira standing right outside the door.

  “How much did you hear?” she snapped. She strode forward and grabbed Moira by the arm, pulling her into the room and shutting the door. “Tell me. What did you hear?”

  “I didn’t hear anything,” Moira lied. “I was just grabbing this tablecloth. There was a spill downstairs and…”

  “You were listening, weren’t you?”

  “Miriam, I honestly didn’t mean anything by it. I won’t tell anyone…” she broke off. Her eyes had landed on an object on the nightstand behind Miriam. It was an expensive kitchen knife. The dots began to connect in her mind.

  Miriam had fallen silent. Moira glanced up to see that the other woman had followed her gaze. Suddenly, it all clicked. The knife hadn’t been a gift, like Alan thought. It must have come from the Redwood Grill on the night that Hector had been murdered. It was the missing murder weapon. Miriam had been in town the day of the murder, hadn’t she? It was the same day that Moira had met her for the first time.

  “What are you looking at?” Miriam snapped. “Mind your own business.”

  “You killed Hector, didn’t you?” Moira whispered, her heart thumping in her chest. She backed up, gripping the folded tablecloth in her hands like a shield.

  “You don’t understand,” Miriam said. She snatched up the knife, then looked down at it. “Hector was going to tell Alan. We had an affair years ago, and we picked it up again after he came back. He wanted me to leave my husband, but I wouldn’t. He – he threatened to tell Alan all about it. I couldn’t lose him, don’t you understand?”

  Moira backed up further before she realized her mistake. She had been moving away from the door. Now, Miriam was standing between her and her only means of escape.

  “I went to see him that night, to break it off,” Miriam continued, still looking at the knife. “He told me that if I stopped seeing him, he would go straight to my husband. I didn’t mean to kill him. I… I saw the knife, and it just happened. No one else knew about the affair. He was still alive when I fled, and I thought that maybe he would make it. When I found out he died… well, I don’t know how I felt. It was a relief, in a way, you know?”

  She looked up at Moira now, as if hoping to see understanding in the deli owner’s eyes. Moira just stared at her, her disgust and fear warring with each other. Miriam took a couple of steps toward her, and Moira stumbled backward. The other woman looked down at the knife in her hand again, then back at Moira, seeming to realize the position that they were in.

  “I would have done anything to keep that secret,” she mused. “And this is an even bigger secret, isn’t it? What’s an affair, compared to a murder?”

  “You don’t have to kill anyone else,” Moira said. “You don’t want to live with that on your conscience for the rest of your life.”

  “I’d take a heavy conscience over a life in prison,” Miriam said.

  Moira took another step back, then felt the windowsill bite into the backs of her legs. Could she open it and jump out? She didn’t want to turn her back on Miriam, and she didn’t know how safe it would be to try to jump from a second-story window. What good would it be to escape a knife attack just to break her neck in the process?

  Miriam approached slowly, gripping the knife with renewed purpose. Moira realized that she was still holding the tablecloth. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but if she could throw it at the other woman at the last second, it might distract her long enough for Moira to slip by and reach the bedroom door.

  Just as she was tensing to make her bid for freedom, the bedroom door opened, and Thelma looked in. “Miriam, I just saw Alan leave in a rush, and…”

  Thelma looked between Miriam, who was holding the knife, and Moira, who was backed up against the far wall. Miriam was equally surprised by the interruption, and when she turned to face Thelma, Moira took her chance. She tossed the tablecloth at the other woman and bolted past her, almost slamming into Thelma as she slipped through the door. Not giving Thelma a chance to say anything, she grabbed the doorknob and pulled it shut behind her.

  “Call the police,” she gasped. “Hurry. She’s trapped in there, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold the door shut.”

  Thelma gaped at her for a second, then nodded, turning to run downstairs for the phone. Moira grabbed the doorknob and braced against the doorframe as Miriam tried to open the door. It was a battle of strength, but Moira had leverage on her side and managed to keep it shut.

  After a couple of moments, the struggle stopped. Keeping a firm grip on the doorknob, just in case, Moira leaned forward and pressed her ear against the wood. What was the other woman up to?

  She heard the sound of the window being pushed open, and worried that Miriam was going to attempt to climb down. Biting her lip, she opened the door a crack, just in time to see Miriam toss the knife to the side and leap out the second-story bedroom window.

  EPILOGUE

  * * *

  “She’s going to be okay,” Detective Jefferson assured her as the ambulance pulled away. “She has a broken ankle, and she managed to sprain her wrist, but the paramedics said there�
��s nothing more serious than that.”

  “That’s good,” Moira said. “I know she killed someone, but I still almost had a heart attack when I saw her jump out the window. Besides, I would rather see her go to trial and answer for her crimes.”

  “She’ll be under guard until she gets out of the hospital, and then we’ll be moving her directly to prison. She confessed everything. It looks like I owe an apology to your friend.”

  Moira fell silent. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Denise at the moment. She understood that her friend had simply been doing everything in her power to keep Logan safe, and in a way, she could understand that. She knew that she would have done no less for Candice. At the same time, she felt betrayed. Denise had lied to her about the head injury and had manipulated her in order to give Logan a chance to escape. It hurt to know that her friend would use her like that.