Glazed Ham Murder (The Darling Deli Series Book 20)

by Patti Benning

“He wouldn’t lie,” Moira said. “I know what it looks like, but Candice did not do this.”

  With that, she stood up and walked out of the room, knowing that she needed space and time to process what she had seen on the video. Despite her words, she couldn’t suppress the little, niggling suspicion that had taken root the instant that she had seen the driver’s hair. She knew that if her daughter was in her right mind, she would never leave a hit and run victim on the side of the road. But what if last night, her daughter hadn’t been in her right mind? Like Jefferson had said, too much to drink might have changed her actions.

  “No,” she whispered, trying now to convince herself. “Candice would never leave a man to die by himself like that. I know she wouldn’t. I know it.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  * * *

  David got home late that night. Normally, Moira would have been asleep for hours, but this time she waited up for him. She had spent the evening pacing and thinking. She hated that she had to doubt her own daughter, but her eyes weren’t lying. Trying to be honest with herself, she asked herself what the chances were that a car thief with long blonde hair had just happened to come across Candice’s car that night. She knew that the coincidence was unlikely, but she didn’t like the alternative at all.

  By the time her husband walked in, she was a wreck. She gave him a quick hug, then pulled back and gazed into his face. He didn’t look worried in the slightest.

  “What did you find out?” she asked. He had spent the evening doing his own digging. He had suggested that she come along, but she knew that she was currently too emotional to think things through clearly, and hadn’t wanted to serve as a distraction.

  “Well, unless your daughter can run a mile in just over three minutes, Candice is in the clear.”

  Moira sat down, feeling almost dizzy with relief. “I knew she couldn’t have done it. What evidence did you find?”

  “Well, I talked to Eli, just casually—I didn’t need him to know I was on a case—and found out that he had indeed driven Candice home last night. Shortly after they got back, her friend Caroline developed a headache. Candice gave her the last two painkillers she had, then she and Eli walked down to the convenience store on the corner to buy more and pick up a few things for breakfast before coming back and going to bed. The convenience store had a security camera, and Jefferson was able to get footage that proved that she was there when she said she was. They left the convenience store at two forty-eight in the morning, exactly.”

  “But I thought the accident wasn’t until after three?”

  “You’re correct, but Jefferson and I went over the footage from the surveillance cameras in the bar’s parking lot. Her car was parked out of the camera’s sight, but the footage showed a woman with long blonde hair walk across the lot at two fifty-one in the morning—three minutes after Candice left the convenience store, exactly. Even if Eli had driven her back to the bar to get the car, there wouldn’t have been time.”

  “So, it definitely wasn’t her.” Moira closed her eyes, too grateful and relieved to realize the implications for a few more minutes. “What happened to the car? It’s still missing, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” David said. “Considering the speed at which it hit the man the driver killed and the shards of glass and plastic on the road at the site of the accident, I’d say it has a broken headlight and dented bumper at the very least. Jefferson put a call out to local auto shops, but last I spoke to him, there hadn’t been any silver convertibles in.”

  The matter of the missing car seemed small now that her daughter had nearly been accused of manslaughter, but she knew that they still needed to find it. “Do you know who the man that died was?” she asked her husband, realizing with a rush of guilt that she had barely even thought about the victim.

  “He was a young man by the name of Joshua Russell,” he said. “And I’m not sure yet if it means anything, but he was a friend of Eli’s a few years back.”

  Moira frowned. “That does seem odd. He knew Eli, and was killed by Candice’s car, driven by a woman that looked enough like her to fool even my eyes? That can’t be a coincidence.”

  “I agree with you, but I just don’t see any connection between his death and Candice and Eli, other than the car of course. We already know it couldn’t have been either of them—though of course I already know neither of them would kill somebody—and according to Eli, he and Joshua hadn’t spoken for years. It really might just be a coincidence and bad luck on Joshua’s part.”

  The deli owner shook her head, too tired to think further on the subject, and too relieved to be very concerned about it. “Let’s go to bed, David. I’ve got the afternoon shift at the deli tomorrow, but first I want to stop by Candice’s and catch her up on everything. I really hope her car is found soon. Hopefully there will be evidence in it that will help the police track down the thief. I really hope whoever took the car and ran that poor man over gets the justice that she deserves.”

  “I hope so, too,” David said. He hugged her again and brushed a kiss across her temple before releasing her. They went their separate ways; him to let the dogs out and take a shower, and her to their warm, comfortable bed to shut her eyes and relax after the long and crazy day.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  * * *

  When she told Candice the next morning about the hit and run and David and Jefferson’s hurried detective work, her daughter was understandably upset. What Moira hadn’t expected was her daughter’s feeling of guilt.

  “If I had just driven the car home, none of this would have happened,” she said. “It’s my fault that man died.”

  “No, it’s not,” the deli owner said firmly. “It’s the fault of the person who hit him. You did the responsible thing and left the car at the bar after you had been drinking. I would have done the same. Don’t ever second-guess a decision not to drive after you’ve been drinking.”

  “I can’t believe someone used my car to murder someone,” she said, still looking ill despite her mother’s words.

  Moira blinked. Neither she nor David had used the word murder yet. She had been considering the accident just that, an accident. But what if it wasn’t? What if the mysterious thief had been targeting Joshua, and not the car. It seemed unlikely, though come to think of it, she had no idea what the young man had been doing walking down the state highway at three in the morning. Instead of looking for the car, perhaps they should be looking for the killer.

  It was difficult to settle herself into her work at the deli. Her thoughts about everything that had happened the day before actually distracted her enough that she ended up burning the first batch of caramelized onions and had to scrap the entire batch and start over. Cameron poked his head into the kitchen, a concerned look on his face.

  “Everything all right, Ms. D.?” he asked. “I smelled burning.”

  “I just wasn’t paying attention,” she told him. “I’ll prop open the door back here to air it out.” The last thing she wanted was for her customers to be turned away by the scent of burnt onions.

  A few minutes later, she had another batch of chopped onion in the pan and there was a pleasant breeze blowing through the kitchen. She heard footsteps on the gravel outside and turned to see Allison walk in through the open delivery door.

  “Hey, Ms. D.,” she said.

  “Hi, Allison. What happened to your arm?” The young woman was wearing a sling that supported her left arm.

  “Oh, I managed to strain my elbow the other day.” Allison made a face. “I’ve got to wear this for a while to let it heal up. It sucks, but it doesn’t hurt too much unless I move it.”

  “I’m so sorry. Will you be okay to work? I’m sure we can figure out a way to cover your shifts if we need to. I wouldn’t want to ask you to do anything that will set your healing back.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she promised. “I just may ask someone else to do the chopping for a while, since it’s hard to cut stuff up using only one hand.”

&nb
sp; “I think we’ll be able to do that for you,” Moira said with a smile. “Go on and tell Cameron that he can leave whenever he wants. I’ll be out in a few minutes to write the day’s special on the board.”

  Today she had decided to do a French onion soup with a beef and mushroom sandwich with melted Swiss cheese on toasted rye. It was one of her favorite meals. Comfort food, which she needed just then. Maybe tomorrow I’ll offer a special salad instead of a sandwich, she thought. If I keep making such unhealthy—if tasty—dishes, people might stop eating here so much out of concern for their waistlines.

  One pleasant thing about owning her own restaurant was that it meant that there was always a warm, tasty meal waiting for her if she got hungry. That was a double-edged sword, though, since it made it much harder for her to watch her own weight. She was all right with being a bit curvy, as long as she didn’t outgrow her pants; unfortunately, her current pair were feeling a little tight.

  It’s hard to diet with so much else going on, she thought. Candice’s car getting stolen, the hit and run, and Easter is coming up. She realized with a jolt that the next day was Saturday—and the day after was Easter Sunday. The holiday seemed to have snuck up out of nowhere. She still needed to go shopping for her and David’s Easter breakfast, and needed to finalize things with Martha for the egg hunt. There was always so much to do.

  After the soup started simmering, she switched places with Allison for a few hours, of restocking the front shelves herself to save her injured employee from having to walk back and forth carrying the heavy cases of beer, soda, meat, and cheese. Most of the products the deli carried were from local farmers, with a few exceptions such as name brand sodas and the bread from a lovely Amish family a few hours to the south. The beer, of course, was all David’s brand.

  The deli was not particularly busy that day. It was chilly out, and the sky was a bland grey that threatened rain. She was frowning out the window, hoping that the unpleasant weather would blow over before Sunday, when the deli’s door opened and a young woman came in.

  At first glance, Moira thought the woman was her daughter. She had the same straight blonde hair, though not quite as long, and the same clear face and sharp features. She was shorter than Candice, though, and her eyes were a dark brown, not her daughter’s blue. Still, the resemblance was striking, and it gave the deli owner pause.

  “Welcome to Darling’s DELIcious Delights,” she said, realizing that she had been staring at the girl for a bit too long. “How can I help you?”

  “Can I just have the special, please?” the young woman asked. “And a pop. That’ll be to go.”

  “Coming right up.” Moira ducked into the kitchen to give Allison the order, then punched the price into the register. “Will you be paying with card or cash?”

  “Card,” the other woman said. “Credit, if that’s all right.” She handed over the card. Moira glanced at it out of habit, then did a double-take when she saw the name. Alexa. Could this be Eli’s ex, the same woman that Candice and Caroline had spoken about during dinner earlier in the week?

  She ran the card through the machine and handed it back to the woman, tempted to ask, but not sure she could think of a way to do so that wouldn’t make her seem like a crazy person. Reluctantly, she handed Alexa the bag of food and told her to have a good day.

  Did they say she was blonde? she thought. Or did they not mention her hair color? She had thought Allison and Candice looked alike, but it was uncanny how similar Candice and Alexa were. After staring at the door for a few moments, the deli owner shook herself and got back to work. She had enough on her plate right now without wondering about something that was probably nothing more than a coincidence.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  * * *

  Easter morning dawned clear and warm. Moira left David asleep in bed and went downstairs, followed closely by two energetic, and hungry, dogs. She let them out the back door, then turned on the coffee machine and sat down at the kitchen table to wait for her required morning dose of caffeine. The birds outside were singing, and she smiled at the sound. She still felt a pang whenever she thought of the house that she had lived in for twenty years—the house that Candice had grown up in—which had burnt down the year before, but overall, she was happy here. She loved the privacy of her property, and the peace that living outside of town brought. It was as if her and David’s little stone house was a world apart from the small but sometimes busy town of Maple Creek.

  The coffee maker gurgled then went silent. She rose, poured her cup, and stepped out back to enjoy the first few sips in the fresh morning air with the dogs. It was a pity that they couldn’t come to the Easter egg hunt later that afternoon, but she knew that she would be far too busy to keep an eye on them. Though she knew that they had no inkling of the holiday, she was determined to do something special for the two pooches who filled so much of her heart and her time.

  It was a nice morning for mid-April, but still a bit chilly, and she had goosebumps on her arm by the time she went back inside with the dogs and a half-empty cup of coffee. To her surprise, her husband was up and standing in the kitchen, with what looked like half of the fridge’s contents on the counter top.

  “Good morning,” she said. “I thought you’d still be in bed for a while yet. I was going to make breakfast for us both in a little bit.”

  “No need,” he said with a smile. “I thought I would make us omelets.”

  She raised an eyebrow, touched and surprised. Although David could cook, he usually preferred to buy his food already made and ready to eat whenever possible.

  “That sounds nice,” she said. “An omelet would hit the spot. Would you mind setting a couple of the eggs aside for the dogs? I was going to scramble some up for them as a special treat for their breakfast.”

  The omelet that David made really did hit the spot. It was beautifully spiced, chock full of vegetables and cheese, and cooked to perfection in a well-buttered pan. It wasn’t quite the healthy meal that Moira had been planning but it was definitely worth it. Besides, everyone knew that any food consumed on holidays was empty of calories. She could start her diet tomorrow.

  “Happy Easter, David,” she said, pausing by his chair to give him a kiss as she cleared her place. “And thank you for agreeing to help out at the egg hunt today. It will be nice to spend the holiday together.”

  “It’s a day for family,” he agreed. “Work can wait.”

  Neither of them mentioned the case of the missing car and the dead man. Somehow Easter Sunday didn’t seem like the time to talk about such dark things. Moira still kept a close eye on her phone, hopeful for news about the search for the vehicle, but after so many days, she was no longer constantly on edge about it. She knew that Detective Jefferson still seemed to have hopes that it would turn up, but she had already turned her mind to practical solutions for getting her daughter another car.

  After a leisurely morning together at the house, Moira and David got into her SUV and drove the short distance into town. The Easter egg hunt was supposed to start in two hours, and the half of the park that the library was using was roped off with polite signs asking people to stay off the grass until the hunt began. The other half of the park was already filled with people enjoying the nice weather. The deli owner smiled, the sight reminding her of all of the cookouts and birthday parties she and Candice had had there over the years.

  “Moira! Over here.”

  She looked toward the empty half of the park to see her friend, Martha, waving at her. A small group, mostly women, were gathered around a picnic table, laughing and chatting while they unloaded a minivan packed with supplies. Moira grabbed David by the arm and led him over to the group.

  “I’m glad you could make it,” Martha said, giving her a quick hug. “The deli’s not open today?”

  “We’re closed for Easter,” Moira said. “It’s nice for the employees to be able to spend the day with their families. I always feel bad for the people who have to work on holidays.�
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  “Me, too. Though come to think of it this is the first Easter in a couple of years that I haven’t been busy trying to fit work in around helping out with this. Sometimes I wish I had a job where I didn’t take my work home with me.”

  “Well, you’re always welcome to come and work at the deli,” she told her friend, grinning. “The pay isn’t great compared to what you make now, and the morning shift starts at six-thirty, but when you walk out the door, you’re done.” Well, unless you’re me, she thought.

  “Maybe I’ll take you up on that in another ten years,” Martha said with a laugh. “It sounds tempting, but I know I would go stir-crazy after a few weeks.”

  It was nice, spending time with Denise and Martha and the other women. David and a couple of the other men volunteered to hide the plastic eggs once the women had filled them with candy, so Moira spent most of her time counting out jelly beans and chocolate kisses.

  “Don’t forget not to hide any by the river,” Martha called as the first set of eggs was taken away. “We wouldn’t want anyone falling in. And don’t forget that you’re hiding these for little kids. What’s eye level for you will be way over their heads.”

  “How many eggs are there?” Moira asked as she began filling yet another plastic egg with candy. “And what happens if the kids don’t find them all?”

  “There are exactly two hundred,” Martha told her. “I counted them twice this morning. The child who finds the most gets a gift certificate to the library’s monthly book sale. Not many kids care too much about the prize, but they like the idea of winning, so it keeps them from stealing the eggs. We count them all, and if more than a couple are still missing by the end of the day we’ll go and look for them. And then ask the guys to hide them in easier spots next time. The kids normally do a pretty good job of finding them, though.”