Thai Coconut Murder: Book 6 in The Darling Deli Series (4 page)

David was subdued for the rest of their lunch, though Moira did eventually get him talking about happier subjects. When she told him about some of Maverick’s recent antics, he even started to smile. He liked the dog almost as much as she did, and she often wondered if David would have adopted him if she hadn’t wanted to.

The spicy Thai coconut soup was delicious even though it had cooled off to near room temperature by the time they started eating it. The creamy, flavorful soup warmed her mouth as she ate it. It would almost have been too spicy, but the slightly sweet Asian milk bread and fresh, juicy sprouts helped to cool her mouth down. Cooking with new spices was always a learning opportunity for her, and she was pleasantly surprised by how well the fish sauce mixed with the other flavors.
If I were to do anything differently
, she thought
, I would add just a little bit of soy sauce to the soup.

She and David said their goodbyes once both of their bowls were scraped clean, and Moira made her way to the back with the dishes, where her daughter was on dishwashing duty at the expansive stainless steel sink. She wasn’t looking forward to telling the young woman the bad news, but it had to be done.

“Wow, I feel so bad for his granddaughter,” Candice said when her mother was finished delivering the news of Henry’s death. “I bump into her a few times a week, and usually ask if she’s heard from her grandfather yet. I feel terrible now.”

“Don’t worry, you couldn’t have known,” Moira said. “I just wanted to let you know what happened to him before you heard it from someone else. I know this will probably set your plans for the candy shop back quite a bit.”

“I don’t want to even think about that right now,” her daughter admitted. “Is it all right if I leave a bit early today? I want to pick up some flowers for Alice and drop by to say I’m sorry about her grandfather, and then give Adrian a call and let him know what’s going on with the toy store.”

“I wanted to stop by and give my condolences too,” Moira said. They sure had bugged the woman enough about when the toy store would go up for rent; she felt that she owed it to Henry’s granddaughter to try to be as understanding and helpful as possible during this hard time. “Is it all right if I come with you, if I can get Dante or Darrin to come in and help Meg out with the deli?”

“Of course. I’ll just finish up here, and then we can go,” Candice said, turning back to the sink as she hurried to get the last of the dishes clean.

With Darrin and Meg in charge of Darling’s DELIcious Delights, Moira and Candice took their leave. They headed first to the flower shop in Maple Creek. It was only a few minutes away from the deli, and was owned by an elderly woman and run by her family. Margie Clementine was almost as much of a fixture in town as old Arlo was, though she was considerably more friendly.

“Moira Darling and her daughter,” Margie said when the two of them walked into the small, sweetly fragrant shop. “I haven’t seen you in here since prom.”

“It can’t have been that long, Margie,” Moira said with a laugh. They had bought Candice’s corsage there for her senior prom, but that had been three years ago. “I must have bought flowers since then.”

“If you did, then you must have gone to Samantha Graves over in Lake Marion,” Margie said, wrinkling her button nose. She was seated in an electric wheelchair and had pulled back her nearly translucent white hair into a thin ponytail. “I keep my eye out for familiar faces, and I haven’t seen yours in a while.”

“Now, now, Ma, don’t attack them,” said a man about Moira’s age with flaming red hair who appeared as if by magic from behind a potted tree. “They’re free to buy their flowers from whomever they want. They can even grow their own if they want,” he chided gently. Then he turned to Moira. “What can we help you with, Ms. Darling?”

“We know someone who recently lost a grandparent,” she said. “We don’t know her very well; she owns the shop my daughter lives above, but we would still like to get her flowers and maybe a little card. Do you have any suggestions for a nice bouquet?”

“Lilies are always a good flower to choose for a condolence bouquet,” he said. “Since Ma obviously knows you, I’ll be happy to give you a good price on one. Would you like to see what we have?”

“Sure. Well, my daughter should really be the one to choose. She knows Alice, that’s the granddaughter of the man that passed away, better than I do.” Moira stepped aside so her daughter could pass, and was about to follow when she felt a smooth, dry hand snag her wrist. She looked down to see Maggie looking expectantly up at her.

“Who died?” she asked, her milky eyes wide and eager for news.

“Henry Atkins,” Moira said. “He lived in Lake Marion, I doubt you knew…” But to her surprise, the woman’s eyes filled with tears.

“Poor old Henry,” she said. “How did he go? Was it peaceful?”

“Well…” She was tempted to lie to the elderly lady and put her at ease by saying Henry died in his sleep, but she knew it wouldn’t be right. “I heard that he drowned.”

“Oh my.” Margie shook her head and blotted at her tears with the corner of her worn blouse. “Do they know who did it?” she asked.

“I think it was an accident,” Moira said, taken aback. “He must have slipped, or lost his balance while he was in a boat. How did you know him?”

“We went to high school together.” She sniffled. “He was my sweetheart for a long time, until he left for Vietnam. By the time he came back, I was married. But Henry wouldn’t fall out of a boat, he was no fool. He knew his limits, unlike most of us, and he could swim so well I think he must have been part fish.”

“Accidents happen to the best of us,” Moira replied. “There’s no reason to think someone killed him. I’m sorry for your loss. His funeral is this Friday. Would you like to go?” She hoped David would be okay with her bringing the other woman if she needed a ride. Margie was obviously distraught over her old friend’s death.

“I’ll have Ronnie take me,” the old woman said with a nod. “I’ve said goodbye to too many old friends this year already, but I think I’ve got one more in me.” She sighed and patted Moira’s hand. “Thank you for telling me, dear. I’m sorry that you had to put up with my tears. It never gets easier, you know.”

“No,” Moira agreed. “It never does.”

A few minutes later, Moira and Candice left the flower shop with a beautiful bouquet of white lilies, a condolence card, and a note to Alice from Margie. The deli owner tried to focus on driving, but she was too distracted with her conversation with the older woman. Why had Margie immediately leapt to the conclusion that Henry had been killed? Was it a sign of the elderly woman’s brain slipping, or did she know something about Henry that Moira and David didn’t?

She was so lost in thought that she passed the toy store, and had to turn around and come back from the other direction. It had been a long day, and she would be glad when it was over—though, unfortunately, she would be working a double shift tomorrow in exchange for Dante and Darrin covering her shifts for today and Friday morning on such short notice. All of them were stretched thin with the new hours as it was, and though Meg was a great help, she would certainly need to hire another employee or two when Candice left.

They pulled into Candice’s normal parking spot behind the toy shop, then walked around front. When they let themselves in the store’s front door, which jingled merrily as it shut behind them, they found Alice engaged in what looked like a very serious discussion with a short, older man.

“I don’t know anything about that,” she was saying, her voice laced with anger. “I would like to be able to mourn my grandfather in peace, without you making accusations.”

“I think you know more than you’re telling me, Alice. I’m going to get to the bottom of this one way or another.” The short man spun on his heel and walked out in a huff, his bowler hat pulled low over his eyes. Alice closed her eyes and took a deep breath before looking over to Moira and Candice.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said. “I guess you heard.” She eyed the lilies in Candice’s hand.

“We did,” the young woman said, stepping forward with the flowers. “We just wanted to say we’re sorry, and if there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks,” Alice said in a flat voice. She took the bouquet and set it down on the counter, then eyed the cards. “Who is this one from?”

“An old friend of Henry’s, Margie Clementine,” Moira told her. “They’ve known each other since high school.”

“Oh, I remember her. They used to get coffee together.” The shopkeeper’s gaze softened. “A great many people will miss my grandfather.”

“I never met him, but I know that he and David were close. He definitely touched a lot of lives.”

“He did.” Alice sniffled, then cleared her throat. “Thanks for the flowers. They’re pretty. I’ve always liked lilies.”

Friday morning dawned unusually chilly and overcast for early July in Michigan. Somehow it seemed like fitting weather for a funeral. Sunny funeral weather never felt right to Moira.

Moira pulled a light dark blue sweater over her blouse, and gave herself a once over in the mirror. Her hair was down and pinned away from her face. She had put on only the minimum of makeup, and her green eyes seemed somber against her pale face. Her black slacks were a bit tight, which reminded her of her supposed diet. Straightening her sweater, she decided that the outfit would have to do. She didn’t go to many funerals, and was never comfortable deciding what to wear. At least this time she didn’t know the deceased personally, and would just be there for support.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” she asked Candice one last time as she grabbed her keys and purse off the kitchen table.

“I’m sure, Mom. I didn’t know the guy; it would be weird. Besides, you’re going to be with David. I would feel like a total third wheel,” she replied.

She was sitting at the kitchen table in her pajamas, a half-eaten bowl of cereal in front of her. She had an early meeting with Adrian to go over the latest business plans, so she had opted to spend the night at her mother’s. Maverick had been thrilled by the arrangement, and had spent the night curled up at the foot of her bed.

“All right, I’ll see you later today. Be sure to tell Dante thanks again for me when you get to the deli.” With a quick pat on the head for Maverick and a last minute swig of cold coffee, she slid her feet into her black flats and headed out the door.

When she pulled into the Lake Marion Funeral home, she saw David right away. He was waiting for her by his car, looking dashing in his black suit.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, offering her his arm. “I’ve got the feeling half the town is going to turn up. He knew a lot of people.”

“So I’ve heard.” She told him about her conversations with Margie Clementine and Alice. She glossed over the part where Margie had thought that Henry had been murdered—there was no reason to plant any suspicions in David’s brain. She knew that he wouldn’t rest easy if he thought there was even a chance that his friend had died anything but an accidental death.

Moira and David filed into the room and joined the small crowd of people there for the visitation. Feeling somewhat out of place, she stuck close to David and followed him up to the table with a display of pictures and awards on it. Most of the pictures were of Henry, at all stages of his life, with various types of fish. Bass, sharp-toothed pike, and even a huge lake sturgeon were in the photos, in addition to shots of Henry on multiple boats, from small canoes to a huge yacht that looked like it must be worth a fortune. She peered closer to that picture, trying to make out the boat’s name, and inhaled sharply when she recognized the short, broad man that she had seen talking to Alice in the toy store. He was standing next to Henry, a good head shorter, and was holding up a bottle of champagne. What had he been doing at the toy store that afternoon? He had seemed pretty upset, but not in the manner of someone who had just lost a close friend.

“What is it?” David murmured, glancing down at her. Should she tell him? No, not right now. Not while they still had his friend’s funeral to get through. It was probably nothing, anyway—she didn’t want to grasp at straws and see a crime where there wasn’t one.

“Nothing,” she whispered back, offering him a quick, reassuring smile before moving forward to look at the next set of fishing trophies.

The funeral was an average affair, to which a surprising number of familiar faces showed up. Henry had indeed touched a lot of lives in the local area, and Moira was sure that his granddaughter’s heart would be warmed when she saw how many people had cared about him.

She listened to the eulogies, trying to get a feel for the man that David had liked and respected so much. Most people seemed to have the same high opinion of him that the private investigator did.
Of course
, Moira reminded herself,
no one ever says anything bad about someone at their funeral.

She kept her eyes peeled for one man in particular, but didn’t spot his burly frame until she had risen and turned to leave. The short man was standing in the back, his arms crossed in front of him, and his gaze trained on Alice, who was busy talking to Margie Clementine at the front of the room. His gaze looked suspicious, calculating, and she wondered what Henry’s granddaughter could have done to deserve such a gaze. Then, as if he felt her eyes on him, he turned to look at Moira, and she turned her face away quickly. She didn’t want to be caught staring, especially not if there was something going on between the burly, short man and Alice Atkins.

“Thanks for going with me,” David said. He shook his head as he stirred his coffee. “I still can’t really believe that he’s gone, but the funeral was nice at least. I hope you got a feel for what sort of a man he was.”

“I think so. He seemed well respected, and like he really loved the outdoors.”

“He did.” He sighed and tapped his spoon on the edge of the coffee cup to get the drips off before setting it down on the napkin. They were at a little cafe just outside of Lake Marion proper, grabbing a quick bite to eat for lunch before Moira headed back to the deli.