Salami Murder: Book 8 in The Darling Deli Series (4 page)

Candice fast-forwarded through the rest of the day in the hopes that there would be another clue as to what had happened to Matt, but to no avail. Frowning, she turned the tablet’s screen off and settled back into her chair.

“We don’t know that that person killed Matt,” David said pragmatically. “He could have been a friend coming to drop off a part.”

“Do you really think Matt somehow managed to slip and bump his head hard enough to kill himself?” Moira asked, surprised.

“No,” he admitted. “But it’s not impossible. Stranger things have happened.”

She sighed. She knew that what David said was true—the death could have been an accident—but somehow she thought it unlikely. She hoped that whatever had happened, the case would be solved quickly, both for her daughter’s sake and for the sake of the man’s family.

“I don’t know how I’m going to sleep tonight,” Candice said with a shudder. “Every time the building creaks, I’m going to think it’s someone coming back to kill me.”

“Do you want to stay at my place?” Moira asked her daughter seriously. “One of the spare bedrooms is yours, you know.”

The young woman looked tempted, but shook her head.

“No, I think this must be like when you fall off a horse. You’re supposed to get right back up, or you’ll be too scared to do it later. If I don’t sleep there tonight, I’ll still be scared the next night and the night after.”

“Promise to keep your phone charged and with you?” Moira asked. “I’m going to be worried sick.”

“I know, and I will. Trust me Mom, if anything feels off, you’ll be the first person I call.” She hesitated. “Maybe you could actually walk upstairs with me when we get back? I just want to walk through the apartment and make sure no one is hiding under the bed or anything.” She gave a nervous laugh, but Moira could still see the fear and worry through her daughter’s attempt to be flippant.

With a feeling of relief, Moira slid the last plate into place in her cupboard, then turned a critical eye to the pile of empty boxes littering the kitchen floor. She was already tired from her morning shift at the deli, but she was reluctant to take a break until she had completed this last task. Once she got the boxes broken down and stored away, she would officially be moved into her new house.

As she was trying to come up with the energy to begin this last job, Candice, whose days were unexpectedly free since the candy store’s opening was on hold, came noisily through the back door with Maverick on her heels. Her face was flushed with exertion and Moira was glad to see a grin on her face for the first time in days.

“You were right,” Candice said. “The trail does loop around the property. Maverick and I just jogged the whole thing. Parts of it are a little bit overgrown, but it’s mostly clear.”

“That’s good to know,” Moira said, pleased by the discovery. She had been meaning to take the trail that began at the little bridge over the stream in the woods, but had been too busy even to think about it until now. “I’ll have Ben work on clearing it, next time he comes to mow.”

“Here, let me help you with that.” Candice grabbed a utility knife off the counter and began to work alongside her mother, cutting through the strips of clear packing tape then folding the boxes into neat, flat squares. “I love this house, Mom,” she added. “I think it’s perfect for you.”

“I’m glad you like it. You know you’re welcome to come over whenever you want.” She paused to stretch, her back aching from the already long day. It wasn’t even dinnertime yet and she was tired. Thinking of the meal that she planned to make, she opened her mouth to invite her daughter to stay for a few more hours, but the cheery jingle of her phone’s ring tone interrupted her. She stood up and reached for it, noting David’s name on the caller ID.

“Hi,” she said, glad for the excuse to take a break.

“I’m glad you answered,” he said. “How are you?”

“I’m doing well. Candice and I are taking care of the last of the boxes now.” She cast a critical eye over the kitchen, doing a mental inventory of her wares. She needed to go grocery shopping, but she thought that she had just enough of the right ingredients to make enough dinner for the three of them. “Do you want to join us for dinner?” she asked. It would be the first time she hosted anything at her new house, and she was excited at the prospect.

“What time?” he asked.

“A little bit after six.”

“Sure.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “That works for me. Should I bring anything?”

“Just yourself,” she said with a smile of her own.

“All right, I’ll see you then… Oh, wait, I almost forgot to say what I called for.” He hesitated, then said, “It was murder.”

Moira blinked. It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about, but when she did her heart dropped. Her gaze darted towards Candice, who was just finishing up with the last of the boxes. She knew this would complicate things for her daughter; if the man’s death had been some sort of accident, it would have been sad but, at least there would be no need for a lengthy investigation. Now Candice’s Candies would be at the center of attention for detectives and news reporters. She knew from experience just how bad the rumor mill in such a small town could be.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yes. My friend in the coroner’s office knows that I’m investigating this for you guys, and he slipped me a message. The man suffered blunt force trauma to his skull, and also had bruises and scrapes consistent with a struggle,” David told her.

“Oh, my.” Moira remembered the mysterious person in the hat and sweatshirt they had seen on the video camera. Whoever it was must be the murderer… and he—or she—had committed the crime while her daughter was just a few yards away in her apartment above the shop. She felt ill as she thought how close her daughter had been to the killer. “Do they have any leads?” she asked quietly, turning her back and walking a few steps farther away from Candice.

“Not yet,” David told her. “They’re busy questioning Matt’s friends and family to see if he had any enemies. They still don’t know if this was something personal, or a case of him being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Moira found herself hoping that the former was true. If Matt had been targeted and killed for personal reasons—money owed, or maybe some sort of criminal activity gone wrong—then Candice was likely out of danger. But if the murderer had merely stumbled upon Matt when he broke in to the candy shop, then the real target had likely been her daughter or the store itself.

“Thanks for telling me,” she said to David. “We’ll probably talk more about this tonight. Right now, I want to go tell Candice the bad news.”

“Okay” he said. “Tell her I’m sorry; I wish I had been the bearer of better news. See you this evening, Moira.”

A few hours later, the rich scent of beef stroganoff filled the stone house. The dish was simmering quietly in a skillet on the stove while the noodles boiled in a pot on the adjacent burner. Moira stirred a small amount of white wine into the creamy beef and mushroom mixture, careful not to splash any onto the clean stove.

“The table’s set,” Candice said, walking into the kitchen and leaning over to give Maverick a quick skritch. “Is there anything else you want me to do?”

“I can’t think of anything—” A knock sounded at the front door, interrupting her. The dog pricked up his ears and Moira smiled. “Well, you can let David in. Tell him we’ll be ready to eat in just a few minutes.”

Moira hurried to finish preparing the meal. The noodles, once they met with her approval, were dumped into a glass bowl. She put the stroganoff in a second bowl, so they could spoon as much of it over the noodles as they wanted. Then she opened a fresh bag of croutons, sprinkled them over the salad, and tucked a few salad dressings under her arm. Candice and David appeared just a few seconds later to help her carry the dishes out to the dining room table.

The stroganoff was delicious, and they ate in silence for a few minutes until Candice straightened up and put her fork down. She looked between David and her mother, worry in her eyes.

“Mom told me Matt was murdered,” she said to the private investigator. “That there’s no way he just fell and hit his head.”

“It has officially been declared a homicide,” he agreed. “I’m sure the police will contact you again in a few days to see if there’s anything else you can remember—any detail you might have forgotten to tell them when we found the body.”

“I’ve been going over that day again and again in my head,” Candice admitted. “And I just can’t think of anything. I honestly didn’t even know that other person was there. Matt acted completely normal when I talked to him. I just wish that I had thought to keep the back door locked. Or if I had realized that there was a problem with that outlet earlier, Matt might not have even been there that day.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” he warned her. “That’s a dangerous path to go down.”

“I know,” she said with a sigh. “I just feel so bad. I can’t believe something like this happened. The candy shop is supposed to be a happy place, but now all I think of when I’m there is death.”

“It will get better,” Moira promised her, speaking from experience. “Once they catch the person who did this, well, that will help a lot.”

“And I know you already spent a long time talking to the police about this,” David said. “But I’d appreciate it if you can tell me anything that you remember too. I do have connections that the police don’t have, and in some ways I’m freer to investigate than they are.”

“I’ll tell you if I do remember anything,” Candice told him. She sighed. “I hope I do. Can we talk about something else now though?”

“Of course,” Moira said quickly. She turned to David. “How did that meeting with your new client go? Did they hire you?”

“Yep,” he said, grinning. “I’m officially on the job.”

“Can you tell us about the case? I know you can’t mention the details, but I love hearing about the sorts of things you investigate.”

“Well, my client isn’t just one person,” he told her. “I was actually hired by a group of people. All are business owners, and local. And they’ve all had various things go missing over the last few weeks—expensive electronics, jewelry, even money.”

“I had some money go missing,” surprised, Candice chimed in. “Do you think that could be related?”

“Maybe.” David leaned forward in interest. “Tell me the details,” he offered. “I’ll see if it matches up with what happened in the other cases.”

“I had cash in my wallet… about a hundred bucks. It just disappeared.” She shrugged. “Mom and I think that one of the people who I hired to work on the candy shop must have stolen in.”

“Give me the names of everyone you hired,” the private investigator said. “I’ll cross reference your list with what my other clients tell me, and see if there are any familiar names.”

Moira smiled to herself as she watched David and Candice talk animatedly about the missing money. She was glad that her daughter had this distraction from the more serious, and more dangerous, murder case. If her daughter had to play detective, she would much rather Candice help David look for a thief than for a killer.

Moira scraped the chopped peppers off the cutting board and into the stock pot with a sizzle, the water in the fresh vegetables sending up pops as they began to cook. She added a few more drops of olive oil, then grimaced as her eyes began to tear as she turned her attention to the onions. She ignored the tears, knowing from experience that the surest way to stop the stinging was to finish the slicing and add the onions to the sizzling peppers.

As soon as the veggies had softened, she poured the homemade tomato purée into the pot and began stirring. The other ingredients were simple enough, and would cook while the soup simmered—olives, diced chili peppers, salt and pepper, and a dash of Darrin’s special hot sauce to give the soup a little kick.

She prepared the ingredients for the sandwiches next: fresh tomatoes, soft slices of mozzarella, and sliced jalapeño and bell peppers. Each sandwich would be made to the customer’s specifications, and would be heated up in one of the brand new sandwich grills that had finally arrived the other day. She planned to use one for vegetarian sandwiches and the other for sandwiches with meat. Moira was eager to expand the variety of sandwiches that she could offer her customers, now that she could easily make everything from grilled cheese to paninis.

Satisfied that the day’s special was well on its way to being ready to serve, Moira stripped off the thin plastic gloves that she wore while handling food and tossed them into the trash. Then she left the kitchen and went to find her employees.

She found them changing one of the fluorescent lights in the dining area of the deli and waited until they were done with the delicate task to start talking. She hoped that they would be as excited by what she was about to say as she was; her news would be good for everyone in the deli.

“I just reserved a booth at the country fair,” she told them. A grin flashed across her face. “And entered us in the annual soup competition.”

“That’s awesome, Ms. Darling,” Dante said. “Darrin told me that you almost won last year.”

“It was close,” she said. “I hope to take home the ribbon this year.” The year before she had lost to one of her competitors, who had been found dead a few months later. She had narrowly escaped being arrested, and found herself hoping fervently that the aftermath of the county fair would be much calmer this time around.