Chicken Pesto Murder: Book 5 in The Darling Deli Series

by Patti Benning

  “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.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “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 th
an 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.”

  “Do you remember anything else about him? Could you describe his face? Did he give you his name?” The deli owner leaned forward, staring hopefully at her friend. She was disappointed when Martha shook her head.

  “No, sorry, he didn’t give me his name, and like I said, I wasn’t really paying much attention to what he looked like.”

  Moira sighed, wishing that she had more to go on, but still feeling certain that the man her friend had gotten her dog from had been the thief. If only she had a way to identify him other than his shoes.

  “Do you want a bowl of soup or anything?” she asked at last. “David’s coming from Lake Marion, so he’ll probably be about twenty minutes.”

  Two bowls of soup and a grilled chicken breast for the dog later, David’s familiar black car pulled into the deli’s parking lot. He hurried inside, and then froze, staring at the dog. Pulling a picture out of his wallet, he compared it to the pooch.

  “Carrie?” he said. The dog pricked up her ears and wagged her tail at him, recognizing the name. David grinned.

  “It’s her,” he announced, turning to Moira. “It’s the stolen collie.”

  Moira knew that it was good news; with everything that was going on in David’s life right now, a break in the case that he was working on was bound to be a relief. However, she couldn’t help but feel sad at the crushed look on her friend’s face.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, walking to Martha and giving the other woman a hug.

  “It’s okay. It’s good that her family will be able to get her back,” her friend said. “I hope that you catch the guy that stole her in the first place. Stealing people’s pets and reselling them is just a cold-hearted thing to do.” She paused, then continued, “but getting a dog is a really good idea. I’ll have to check out the shelter tomorrow.”

  “We’ll catch him,” David promised. “Now, tell me exactly where you met him.”

  David left shortly after with Carrie the collie in tow. He planned to return her to her owners straight away. They were probably frantic with worry about her; she seemed like such a sweet, well-cared-for dog that Moira couldn’t imagine her not being loved. At least one of the missing pets would have a happy ending. She could only hope for such a good outcome for the others.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The private investigator drove away from the small country house on the outskirts of Lake Marion with a glad heart. The collie’s family had been overjoyed to see her, and the pooch had returned the sentiment, jumping up and down eagerly as her people greeted her. He had refused payment; it felt good to do a good deed, and besides, the case still wasn’t over. The other dogs and the thief were still out there, somewhere.

  He decided to drive by the parking lot where Martha had picked up the dog. He followed her directions to a small, deserted lot near the grocery store in Maple Creek. It seemed as good a place to start looking for clues as any, but he hadn’t really expected to find anything majorly helpful. He was surprised to see activity in the far corner of the parking lot; someone was standing next to a pickup truck, chatting intently on his cell phone. There were a couple of plastic kennels in the back of the truck, but David was at the wrong angle to see whether they had dogs in them.

  His heart pounding, the private investigator coasted into the lot. He drove slowly towards the truck, doing his best to be prepared for anything. If the man really was the thief, there was no telling how he would react if he thought he was going to be caught. He could do anything from pulling out a gun to jumping in the truck and peeling away.

  David got close enough to see that a couple of the kennels did have residents. He recognized the brown face and droopy ears of a beagle, and knew that he had found the right guy—or at least, the right dogs. There was still a chance that this man wasn’t the dog thief, but was a partner or accomplice.

  “Excuse me,” he said, rolling down his window as his car pulled even with the truck. “Do you know where the closest gas station is?” He of course already knew exactly where every gas station was for miles around, but he wanted an excuse to talk to the man, to see his face and hear his voice. Anything that would help identify him later.

  To his surprise, the man seemed to recognize him. When he looked into David’s face, his eyes widened, and his mouth parted in shock. He hung up the phone without saying goodbye to whoever was on the other line, then pointed down the road.

  “That way,” he said quickly. “Just keep going, you’ll see it.” The man was pointing him in the opposite direction from the gas station. Intrigued, David nodded a quick thanks and rolled up his window. He pretended to follow the man’s directions, pulling out of the parking lot and rounding the corner, but turned his vehicle around at the first intersection. He idled at the stop sign, the parking lot and the man’s truck just barely in view. When the truck pulled out of the parking lot and drove in the opposite direction down Main Street, David followed, already on the phone with the Maple Creek police station.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Moira pulled into the parking lot of the Redwood Grill, feeling bad that she was slightly late. Yesterday, David had caught the man responsible for the rash of dognappings in the area, and tonight they were going to celebrate. It seemed like things were finally looking up again for the private investigator, and hopefully soon all of the stolen dogs would be reunited with their owners.

  “He’s in the back. You know the way,” the hostess said with a smile, recognizing Moira instantly. She thanked the young woman, and slipped past the line of people waiting for seating. Sure enough, David was seated at their usual table. He had already ordered a glass of wine for both of them, and was perusing the appetizer menu while he waited for her.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said as she slid into the booth across from him. “The kitchen sink at the deli got clogged and flooded, and I had to stay late to make sure it got cleaned up.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, offering her a grin. “I’ve just been looking at their new menus. Denise wanted to see what I thought. Well, she wanted your opinion on them, but since you weren’t here yet, she decided mine would do.”

  “I’m sure whoever she hired to design them did a great job,” Moira said. “That woman doesn’t cut corners.” She took a sip of her wine, pleased that David had thought to order a glass for her. “So, have you had any luck figuring out who that jerk sold the stolen dogs to?”

  “Not yet.” David grimaced. “From what I’ve heard, he’s not cooperating with the police. He’s refusing to say anything without his lawyer, so they’re holding him until his public defender arrives.”

  “Did you find out anything about why he was stealing the dogs? What’s his name, anyway?” she asked.

  “His name is Mikey Strauss, and from what I gathered he’s not admitting to anything right now. He said that the dogs in the truck were his, and that he had to find them new homes because his landlord said he had too many.” He sighed and took another sip of his wine. “He’s not making this easy for any of us, but if your friend Martha can pick him out of a lineup, then things should go more smoothly.”

  “She’ll be more than happy to do that, I’m sure. She was pretty upset that she bough
t a stolen dog.” Moira lowered her voice and glanced around to make sure no one was nearby listening in. “Has there been any more news about the other case?”

  She didn’t have to elaborate; he knew immediately what she was talking about. David’s expression darkened, and he put down his wine glass.

  “No,” he said. “Not that I’ve heard. But everyone at the Maple Creek police department seems to think that I did it. You should have seen some of the looks I got when I came in with Strauss.”

  “I’m sure they’ll find another lead eventually,” she told him. “And even if they don’t, they don’t have enough to arrest you on. The only evidence that they have that really points towards you being the murderer is the fact that your wallet was found in Fitzgerald’s house. I already told Detective Jefferson that you’d lost it the night we had dinner, and once they check with your credit card company and your bank, they’ll see that you reported it missing days before the murder. I just wonder how it ended up at the crime scene?”

  “I’ve got no idea. Most likely, I dropped it outside while I was arguing with Fitzgerald. Maybe he picked it up and meant to return it to me the next day, and then forgot about it,” David suggested.

  “What was that argument about, anyway?” Moira asked, still curious about what would have caused the normally calm private investigator to lose his temper, and with a police detective of all people.

  “It wasn’t anything important,” he said, looking away. “Do you know what you want to order?”

  Why won’t he just tell me? Moira wondered. What could be so bad that he won’t say it? Neither David nor the detective were unreasonable men, and she couldn’t imagine what would cause them to argue, especially in such a public setting.

  “I think I’m going to go with the mushroom-stuffed chicken breasts today,” she told him, deciding once again not to press the matter. “How about you?”

  They were only a couple of bites into the main course when David’s cell phone rang. He ignored it at first, muting the call and cutting a bite from the juicy steak on the plate in front of him. When it rang again, he sighed and gave in, shooting Moira an apologetic look as he answered it. She gave him a quick smile to let him know that it was okay—both of them were dedicated to their jobs, and that meant being available twenty-four hours a day. She took another bite of her chicken, savoring the rich, smoky cheese flavor of the creamy mushroom filling.