Chicken Pesto Murder: Book 5 in The Darling Deli Series (7 page)

“Are you all right?” she asked. “You look exhausted.”

“I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” he said. “This whole murder investigation thing has really been getting to me.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t told him about the news article that she had read online, but he had likely found it by now anyhow. “Have they brought you in for questioning again?”

“Not yet,” he said. “But business hasn’t been going so well. No one wants to hire a potential murderer to solve their mysteries. And I still haven’t been able to crack that missing pet case. It just hasn’t been a good week.” He sighed, gingerly sipping his steaming coffee.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t seen any more sign of the dogs either; if I do, you’ll be the first to know.” She paused, considering her next words. She didn’t want him to know that she had spoken to Detective Jefferson; surely that would go against his wishes of her not getting involved in the case, and he didn’t need any stress right now.

“You know, I don’t think anyone really thinks that you did it,” she said at last. “They just don’t have anything to point them towards anyone else.”

“I wish I could be investigating this myself,” he said with a frustrated groan. “But I’m afraid that it would just end up looking more suspicious to the police. Oh, I almost forgot, I did find out something interesting.”

He took a moment to dig a folder out of the leather bag that he kept his files in. He pulled a paper out and slid it across the table to her. It took Moira a moment to figure out what she was seeing. It was a newspaper clipping from a few years ago. She recognized the face in the picture; it was the balding man that had been at the retirement party, and who had later come into the deli for a bowl of soup: Shawn Dietz. According to the article, he had been arrested for an armed robbery… and the lead detective on the case was Fitzgerald.

“Oh, wow,” she breathed. “Did he escape from prison?”

“No, he served his time and was released early for good behavior. It seems like he came back here once he was free,” David said. “He would definitely have motive to kill Fitzgerald, though. And I’m sure that he would have had the opportunity to learn a lot about killing from the people that he met in prison.”

“Did you show this to the police?” she asked, pushing the paper back towards him.

“I did, but if they ever did anything with it, I never heard about it.” He folded the newspaper clipping in half and slid it carefully back into the folder. “I guess I’ll just have to wait and trust that the truth will come out. I’m glad that you believe me, at least.”

Moira blushed, glad that he couldn’t read her mind. Just a couple of nights ago she had been entertaining the thought that he might actually be the killer.

“I’m sorry, David,” she said. “If there was any way that I could help you, I would.”

He responded with a wry smile, “I know. Thank you, Moira. It means a lot to me.”

How to help David? The thought was on her mind as she drove back to the deli. She didn’t know where the police were in their investigation, but they would certainly be wanting to make an arrest pretty soon. She knew that physical evidence would trump circumstantial evidence, and that even if Detective Jefferson thought that the private investigator didn’t do it, he wouldn’t be able to stop whoever else was working on the investigation from bringing him in.

The question was, was Jefferson convinced of David’s innocence strongly enough that he would be willing to help her figure out who the real killer was? She didn’t know, but she thought it was worth a try. She was sure that between the two of them and David, they would be able to remember something from the night that Fitzgerald died that would point towards a different suspect. That Shawn Dietz guy might be a good place to start. Like David had said, the man had motive. He had been in prison for nearly ten years thanks to the brave police detective. All that she had to do was find physical evidence that he had something to do with Fitzgerald’s death… or get him to confess.

Making a split-second decision, she turned into the police station’s parking lot on her way back to the deli. If she was going to talk to Detective Jefferson, it might as well be now, when David’s tired face was fresh on her mind.

“Ms. Darling, to what do I owe this pleasure?” the detective asked when he saw her. She was sitting on an uncomfortably hard bench in the police station’s reception area, waiting silently while the secretary typed busily away on the computer.

“It’s about David,” she told him. “Can we go to your office?”

He led the way back through the police station. Moira was glad when they walked by the depressingly bare room where she had been interviewed when she was a suspect in the murder of a competitor. It was much more comfortable talking in Detective Jefferson’s office, with his nice wooden desk, the picture of his wife and young children, and sunlight streaming in through the window. The room smelled of coffee, and he offered her a cup, but she shook her head, the taste of the coffee shop’s overly sweet cappuccino lingering on her tongue.

“So what is this about, Ms. Darling?” he asked once he was seated behind the wide desk.

“Please, call me Moira,” she said. Maple Creek was a small town, and she saw the detective often enough these days that the continual formality felt weird to her.

“Very well, Moira it is.” He leaned back in his seat and sighed. She realized for the first time that this investigation wasn’t easy for him, either. He was trying to find the murderer of his partner—a man that he had looked up to and worked with for years—and all of the evidence pointed towards a man that he believed to be innocent.

“I just wanted to ask if you had anything—any leads at all—that point away from David,” she said. “This is so hard on him. He’s losing work because people think that he’s a murderer.”

“I don’t have anything,” the detective admitted with a sigh. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. “No evidence that someone else was there, but no real evidence that
he
was there either, other than his wallet.”

“What about that guy who just got out of prison?” she asked. “Shawn Dietz. He was in prison for ten years thanks to Detective Fitzgerald. Wouldn’t that be motive?”

“Sure, it’s motive,” the young detective said. “But plenty of people would have had motive to kill Fitzgerald. He was a good detective, and was responsible for a lot of arrests. I read Dietz’s file, and he was on his best behavior during his entire sentence. The armed robbery was his first offense, and he pled guilty. There were a lot of people involved in that case, and none of the others have turned up dead. The man has a good job with an auto repair shop, and from what his parole officer says, even got back together with his fiancée. He doesn’t exactly sound like someone who was holding a grudge.”

“And there’s nothing tying him to the crime scene?” Moira asked desperately. She knew that she was grasping at straws. “Nothing at all?”

“Not that I’m supposed to be telling you this, but no,” the detective said. “There isn’t.”

She sighed, knowing that the detective probably couldn’t tell her anything else. She had probably already overstayed her welcome; she shouldn’t push it. She was just so frustrated; there was no way that David could have committed the murder, but it seemed like she was the only one who really believed that. Detective Jefferson said that he thought the private investigator was innocent, but he was still prepared to arrest David if the evidence continued to point towards him.

“Thanks for your time,” she said at last, feeling defeated. She wondered if she had accomplished anything with this visit, other than learning that David’s situation seemed even more hopeless than she had thought. “I should be getting back to the deli.”

“I’m sorry that I don’t have better news for you,” he said, rising to walk her out. “I don’t like this situation any more than you do. If there’s anything that you can remember about that night, don’t hesitate to give me a call. I want to find the guy who killed my partner, and put him behind bars for the rest of his life.”

Her mood was testy by the time she got back to the deli. She did her best not to take it out on her employees, but knew she was being short with them. The whole situation with David was just so frightening. Part of her wanted to trust that the police wouldn’t arrest an innocent man, but she had watched enough crime shows to know that it did happen, more often than she had thought. What if David ended up getting sent to prison for a murder he didn’t commit? He didn’t deserve any of this, and as far as she was concerned, the police were just wasting their time trying to tie him to the crime.

Adding to her crankiness was her concern for her daughter. Thankfully, the young woman was smart, hardworking, and optimistic. Moira hoped that Candice’s positive outlook would help her achieve her dreams, but she knew that a large percentage of small businesses failed in their first year. They both would be happier if Candice were able to secure the space she loved—the little toy shop that was meant to be closing— however, they still hadn’t heard from Henry, David’s elderly friend who owned the place. David continued assuring them that Henry would turn up soon, but Moira had recently noticed his concern whenever they talked about his friend. The old man was a fishing enthusiast and often took off alone to his cabin up north for weeks on end, but he always told his friends when he left and when he was supposed to be back. This time, his vacation had been unexpected and no one was sure when it would end.

She let Dante and Darrin get to work on cleaning out the pantry in the back—somehow the spices always got disorganized, no matter how neatly she tried to keep them—while she cleaned the glass display cases up front. Once those were sparkling, she started on the floor. She began to calm down as she mopped, telling herself that she was being ridiculous and overreacting.
Jefferson wouldn’t let them arrest the wrong man
, she told herself.
He wouldn’t want the person who really committed the crime to walk free.
Plus, if matters got worse, David would hire a lawyer. She was sure that he would be able to find a good one; he was bound to have met quite a few in the course of his job.

And as for Candice, well, no matter what happened she could always count on her mother to have a place for her in her home and at the deli. Moira would do all that she could to support her daughter, and even if her dreams of opening a candy shop never came to fruition, at least the young woman would have a warm home and a steady job to fall back on.

The deli owner leaned on her mop and gazed at the now clean floor. She felt better, having expended much of her angry energy in her cleaning efforts. The deli looked pretty good now, too. Maybe she should be upset more often; she always seemed more inclined to clean when something was bothering her.

Motion outside of the deli’s front window caught her eye, and she looked up to see her friend Martha walking across the parking lot with a gorgeous fluffy collie in tow. Moira stared at the dog for a moment and, wishing that she had the paper with the photos of the missing dogs, rushed out the front door to meet her friend.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Martha said, stroking the dog’s soft head. “I was so alone in that big house without Emilia. Now I’ll have someone to take care of again.”

“She is very pretty,” Moira agreed. “Where did you get her?” She wasn’t an expert by any means, but she was almost certain that it was one of the missing dogs that David was trying to find. How would she tell her friend that her new pet was probably stolen?

“I saw someone selling her in a parking lot,” the other woman said. “The man said that she didn’t get along with his other dog, and that he just wanted her to go to a good home. She was only a hundred dollars, and she’s purebred.”

Moira bent down to get a better look at the dog. She squinted at the collar, hoping that whoever had stolen her hadn’t been smart enough to remove the tags, but no such luck. She reached out to pet the silky fur, and then stood back up. Martha looked so happy, and the deli owner felt bad for what she was about to say, but she knew that there was probably someone out there that really was missing the dog,

“I hate to say this,” she began. “But David’s working on a case right now involving stolen dogs… and one of them was a collie.” Martha’s eyes widened, and her happy expression fell away.

“Oh dear, you don’t think this sweetheart was stolen, do you?” She looked down at the dog sadly. “If she was, I’ll do the right thing and give her back, but she’s such a sweetheart. I’m going to be heartbroken to see her go.”

“I can’t tell if she’s the same dog as the stolen one or not, but David has pictures of all of the missing dogs. Would you be willing to wait here while I call him?” Her friend nodded, so Moira held the door open for them and invited both woman and dog inside. “Just keep her away from the meat,” she said. “I don’t think my customers would be too happy to find dog
slobber on their groceries.”

She stepped back behind the register to grab her phone, and speed dialed David’s number. He answered quickly, and she told him what had happened. He promised to be right over, and Moira turned back to her friend. Martha was stroking the dog, her face sad.

“Do you remember what the seller looked like?” she asked,

“Not really,” her friend admitted. “He was maybe a decade younger than us, and he was wearing a gray sweatshirt.”

“Do you think that you’d recognize him if you saw him again?”

“I guess.” Martha shrugged. “My focus was on this sweet girl.” She patted the dog, who licked her hand. “Not on the person getting rid of her.”

Moira turned her phone’s screen back on and flipped through the pictures until she found the ones that she had taken of the hooded man walking the poodle and the beagle. She handed the phone to her friend.

“I know these aren’t the best pictures,” she said. “But do you recognize anything about this guy?” Martha gazed at the photos for a moment, then nodded.

“I’m pretty sure that it’s the same person. I think the guy I got my girl from was wearing the same shoes, and he had a beagle in the back of his truck.”