Grilled Rye Murder: Book 16 in The Darling Deli Series (5 page)

“Oh dear, what’s wrong?” Moira asked, the sight of the woman’s red puffy eyes and tear-streaked face making her forget all about the quiches.

“I—I just heard about Zander,” Jenny said. Her voice was tremulous, and Moira realized she must have been crying all night.

“Did you know him very well?” the deli owner asked, guiding the young woman over to a stool. She understood how shocking it could be when someone you knew died suddenly, but Jenny’s reaction seemed over the top. As far as she knew, they had only met a few times when Zander dropped off last-minute deliveries for some of their catering jobs.

“Yeah, I dated him for a couple of months,” Jenny said, sniffling. Moira, though surprised by this news, just patted the girl on the back. “We had just started really talking and spending time together again. I thought it was weird when he didn’t answer my calls yesterday… but I never imagined he was dead.”

“How did you find out?”

“There was a news story. I just caught the end of it.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t want to believe it, but the same story was online too.”

“I’m so sorry, Jenny. That must have been horrible.”

“They were saying that
you
killed him, Ms. D! I don’t believe them, of course, but I had to come over here and ask… what really happened?”

Moira told her everything, not leaving out even the smallest detail in case the young woman, as Zander’s friend, recognized something that she, David, and the police had overlooked. She was still surprised at the revelation that the two had dated, but the more she thought about it, the more sense that it made. Zander was only about five years older than Jenny, after all, and Jenny’s family had a winery in the lower part of the state. They must have had a fair amount in common.

“What did they say about me?” the deli owner asked at last. “How do they even know that I was arrested? What station was this?”

“Um, I don’t know. I was just flipping through channels. It might have been called Beyond News or something? Not one of the big ones.”

Moira frowned. She wasn’t surprised. That reporter must have had some sort of source inside the police station.
Now all I need is for them to find out about my bail being anonymously posted, and they’ll definitely have something to report about.

“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.

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.

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.”