Shamrocks and Murder

by Patti Benning

  It took her a couple of moments to get the dogs back from the door and have them settle down enough that she could open it without them rushing out. She gave them a stern look and told them to behave themselves, then unlocked the door and pulled it open.

  “Denise?” she said, hardly believing her eyes. Her friend was standing on the porch, her entire front covered in blood. Her face was pale, and her eyes seemed unfocused.

  “Moira?” Her friend blinked a couple of times. “I need help.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  * * *

  Moira stepped back, pulling the door open so Denise could come inside. She had more questions than she knew what to do with, but the other woman’s appearance had shocked her into silence. She raked her gaze down Denise’s body, looking for an injury that could explain all the blood.

  “I’m sorry,” Denise said. “I didn’t know where else to go. I don’t even remember driving here. I don’t know what happened.”

  “Are you hurt?” Moira managed.

  “No,” Denise said. “Well, yes, actually. I think I hit my head on something. I have a sore spot on the back of my skull. I woke up on the floor a little bit ago, covered in blood.” Her friend looked down at her hands, breathing raggedly.

  “I think I should call an ambulance,” Moira said. “Do you know who did this to you?”

  “No,” Denise said.

  “Where were you?”

  “The restaurant. I was there late, cleaning up.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know!” Denise buried her face in her hands. “Everything is so fuzzy. I woke up. I panicked. I came here. I need help, Moira, not an inquisition.”

  “It’s okay,” Moira said, even though it obviously wasn’t. “Just breathe. What’s the last thing you remember?”

  “I was… I was closing the restaurant. A couple of employees were there… Hector, Zach… we were laughing and joking. And – and that’s all, until I woke up.”

  “You should go sit down in the kitchen. I’ll call the police, and we’ll figure this out, okay?”

  “Please don’t,” Denise said. “Don’t call them just yet. I – I want to know what happened first.”

  Moira stared at her friend. “Denise, you’re covered in blood that doesn’t seem to be your own, and you have a head injury. This can’t wait.”

  “Just don’t call them yet,” her friend said. She wouldn’t meet Moira’s gaze. “Please? We’ve been friends for years. Don’t you owe me this much?”

  The deli owner was speechless. It was true that she and Denise had been friends for years, and she would have done almost anything for the other woman. But it was crossing a line for Denise to ask this of her.

  “I don’t know what happened. I barely remember driving here. I just need some answers first. Please, Moira? Will you drive back to the restaurant with me before calling the police?”

  Moira stared at her friend for a long time before answering. Was there something that Denise wasn’t telling her?

  “I’ll drive back to the restaurant with you, but I’m not going to lie to the police,” she said. “If they ask me why we didn’t call them right away, I’m going to tell them. Is that fair?”

  Denise nodded. Already uncomfortable with her decision, Moira grabbed her purse and her keys, then followed her friend outside. She was frightened and, she had to admit, angry. Denise better have a good explanation for this, she thought.

  The Redwood Grill’s parking lot was empty except for one car when they got there. Moira’s heart was pounding as she got out of the SUV. She had no idea what they would find inside. We shouldn’t be here, she thought. She was sorely regretting her decision not to call the police in the first place.

  “Where were you in the building when you woke up?” she asked her friend.

  “I was in the dining area,” she said. “Near the middle.”

  “Do you have your keys?” Moira asked.

  “I didn’t lock it when I left,” Denise replied.

  Moira waited, but the other woman didn’t make a move, so she reached for it herself and pushed the door open. It was dark inside; Denise and the others must’ve finished their closing tasks before whatever event occurred.

  “Did you see anyone else here when you woke up?” she whispered.

  “No,” Denise replied. “I was alone.”

  The mystery of it all wasn’t enough to make her fears go away entirely, but it certainly helped to distract from the fact that she and her friend were walking alone into a dark restaurant where a crime had occurred. Using the flashlight on her phone, she and Denise looked around the dining area, but it was empty. There were a couple of smudges of blood on the tables and walls from where Denise had used them to steady herself on her way out of the building, but nothing else.

  “Let’s check the kitchen next,” Denise whispered.

  Once again, Moira led the way. She pushed open the swinging door that led to the restaurant’s large kitchen and knew right away that she had found the scene of the crime. Blood was everywhere, but that wasn’t what caught her eye. In the center of the room was a body.

  Moira rushed forward, leaving Denise at the door. She knelt by the body and felt her stomach drop when she realized who it was. Hector. She and David had seen him just a couple of hours before. She was no expert, but it looked like he’d been stabbed. Multiple times.

  “Oh, no,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Denise, what…”

  She broke off, staring at her friend. Denise was looking at the body, her eyes horrified, but her expression lacking any sort of surprise. Had she known that Hector’s body was here? Why wouldn’t she have said anything?

  “What’s going on?” Moira asked, rising to her feet. Her friend blinked, then her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth in a gasp of shock. It was a formulated expression of surprise that didn’t seem natural.

  “I have no idea. I can’t believe it. Hector’s…” She shook her head. “If only I had checked in the kitchen before coming to your house. I was panicking; I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “We have to call the police,” Moira said firmly.

  “We should check other places first,” Denise said. “What if someone else was hurt?”

  “There was only one car in the parking lot, and it was probably Hector’s,” the deli owner pointed out. “But if you feel like you have to check, go ahead. I’ll call the police while you look around. Be careful. We don’t know if whoever did this is still here.”

  Denise nodded and vanished, heading toward the restaurant’s storage room and employee area. Moira pulled her cell phone out of her purse and dialed 911, her hands shaking. She didn’t know what to think. Denise was acting so oddly. In retrospect, the whole evening had been strange – why would Denise come to Moira’s house instead of calling the police right away? Why hadn’t she looked surprised when they found Hector? Whose blood was on her? She supposed a bump on the head could explain the irrational thinking, but something still felt off.

  She forced her mind away from her thoughts as the emergency dispatcher answered the phone. She gave them her location, and a description of the scene they had found. Her heart was pounding as she told the dispatcher everything that she knew. A man was dead, and her best friend was acting frighteningly strange. She wasn’t sure what to think; all she knew was that she would be glad when the police arrived and took control of the situation. This was too much for her to deal with on her own.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  * * *

  Moira had been in the Maple Creek Police Department more times than she could count. It had never felt so alien and cold to her as it did now. She was sitting alone in one of the interrogation rooms, with the overhead lights occasionally flickering. There was a warm cup of coffee on the table in front of her, but she had yet to touch it. Her stomach was roiling uncomfortably, and she didn’t know if she could keep anything down.

  Detective Jefferson – Maple Creek’s lead police d
etective – had taken Denise into a separate interrogation room as soon as they had gotten there, and she hadn’t seen either of them since. She was concerned for her friend, and hoped that whatever else Denise said, she was telling Detective Jefferson the truth. It was one thing if she had told lies to Moira, but if she lied to the police, she could end up in serious trouble.

  Jefferson had left her with her purse and her cell phone, but Moira had waited until now to make a call, thinking that someone would be with her soon. She didn’t know if she was supposed to make a phone call while she was waiting in the interrogation room, but she wanted to call her husband. David would be home soon, and he would be concerned to find her gone. His concern would escalate into panic if Denise had left any smudges of blood behind.

  She pulled out her phone and dialed his number, feeling relieved when he answered. The sound of his voice was a comfort to her. “I’m at the police station,” she said quickly. “I’m okay, but something bad happened at the Redwood Grill. Can you meet me here?”

  “Of course. Moira, what’s going on?”

  “Detective Jefferson hasn’t spoken to me yet. I don’t know how much I should say. Hector is dead, I don’t know anything besides that.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Denise came to our house. By the time I got to the restaurant with her, whatever had happened was already long over with.” A knock sounded at the door to the interrogation room. “I have to go,” Moira said.

  She said a quick goodbye, then hung up her phone and slipped it back into her purse. A moment later, Detective Jefferson walked in.

  “How are you doing?” he asked. He looked tired. She realized for the first time how late it was – he must have been at home when he got the call, maybe even in bed.

  “I’m okay,” she said. “How is Denise?”

  “She’s on her way to the hospital to have her injuries checked out. I don’t think there’s anything too serious, though. Just a couple of scrapes.”

  “That’s good,” Moira said. “I know head injuries can be pretty serious.”

  Jefferson gave her an odd look but sat down on the other side of the table without saying anything. “Would you mind walking me through what happened tonight?”

  She started from the beginning, when Denise had knocked on her door. It didn’t take her long to get to the point where she had called the police, and she realized that less than an hour had passed since her friend had come to her for help. Somehow, it had seemed like much longer.

  “Did Ms. Donovan mention who was helping her close the restaurant?”

  “No,” Moira said. “I only know one of the employees who was there – Zach – because he served us this evening.”

  “Back up. You were at the Redwood Grill tonight?”

  “Yes. David and I ate there for dinner. We left about thirty minutes before closing time. I was at home for about an hour to an hour and a half before Denise showed up.”

  “Thank you. Every little thing helps. Did you and David notice anything unusual while you were there?”

  “No,” Moira said. “Everything seemed perfectly normal. We even talked to Hector before we left. I can’t believe that he’s gone now.”

  “What did you talk to Hector about?”

  “Nothing unusual or interesting,” Moira said.

  “Like I said, every little bit helps. What do you remember about the conversation?”

  Moira thought back and related it to him as well as she could remember. “The worst part is, he wasn’t even supposed to be there this evening. Julian was. I feel so bad for him. He was such a great chef, and he was always very friendly to us whenever we spoke to him.”

  “Julian is the other chef, correct?”

  “Yes,” Moira said. She hesitated, then added, “He and Denise are dating.”

  Jefferson nodded and made a note. She couldn’t tell whether or not he was surprised at the information. What had Denise told him? How honest had she been with him? She hated feeling like she couldn’t trust her own friend, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Denise hadn’t told her everything.

  “Do you have any contact information for Julian?”

  “No, I don’t,” she replied. “I’m sorry. I’ve only seen him a few times outside of work. David and I don’t know him very well.”

  “Thank you,” Jefferson said. “I think that’s all I need for right now. I’m sorry for sticking you back here in this room, but I thought you’d be more comfortable here than you would be waiting out front.”

  “Thanks,” she said, though in truth she would have preferred sitting in the waiting area. Being in the interrogation room made her feel like a suspect. “I called David and asked him to meet me here. I’ll need him to drive me back to the restaurant to get my car.”

  “Okay. It’s fine if you stop in the parking lot to get your vehicle, but make sure not to go up to the restaurant. It’s a crime scene, and we still have forensics teams there.”

  “We won’t,” she said. “Thanks for everything. I had no idea what to do when I saw Hector. I just felt so lost. To see someone I know killed like that…” She shook her head, at a loss for words.

  “I know. I’m sorry you had to go through that. We may have more questions for you later, but I’ll try to keep things easy on you. Do you want anything else besides coffee before you go? I could get you some water, or some donuts.”

  “I’m fine, thanks,” she said, standing up and grabbing her purse. “I really just want to go home. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

  “We will,” he said, rising with her. He led her back through the station toward the waiting area out front. David was just coming in as she got there, and she rushed over to embrace him.

  “Here’s where I leave you,” Jefferson said. “Take care, Moira.” He went back through the door, and Moira wondered what he would do next.

  “You have blood on you,” David said. “Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”

  “It’s not mine,” she said, looking down at the stains on the knees of her pants from when she had knelt next to Hector. “I want to get home and change, though. Will you drive me back to the Grill first, so I can get my car?”

  “Of course. Jefferson doesn’t need anything else?”

  “No. I’m free to go.”

  “Where’s Denise?”

  “She’s on her way to the hospital to be checked out,” Moira said. “I’ll call her tomorrow to make sure everything’s okay.”

  She and David made their way outside where he held the door to his car open for her while she got in. She was exhausted and still felt shaky. So much had happened in just the past few hours, and she felt cold all over. All she wanted was to go home and get to sleep. First, however, they had a stop to make.

  The Redwood Grill’s parking lot was full of police vehicles when they got there. Moira glanced toward the building as she walked toward her SUV. Was Hector’s body still in there? She didn’t know how long it would take the forensics team to take all of the photographs they needed of the crime scene.

  Tearing her gaze away from the building, she got into her SUV and started it up, trying not to look at the smudges of the blood on the seat where Denise had sat. She had a lot of questions, and the only person who could answer them was in the hospital. Even if Denise had been sitting beside her, she didn’t know where she would have begun. Could she trust her friend? She was almost certain that Denise had been lying about what had happened that evening. The only question was why?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  * * *

  Moira was woken the next morning by a ringing that just wouldn’t go away. Blindly, she reached for the alarm clock on her bedside table, but even after hitting the button, the sound didn’t stop. It took another couple of moments for her groggy mind to realize that it was her cell phone. She sat up and reached for it, glimpsing Detective Jefferson’s caller ID on the screen before she hit the green button to answer it.

  “Hello?” she
mumbled.

  “Ms. Darling. Did I wake you?”

  “It’s all right.” She glanced at the clock. It was almost 10. “I should have been up anyway. What is it? Is Denise okay?”

  “Your friend is fine. This is about something else. Do you know if her nephew is still living with her?”