Spicy Lasagna Murder: Book 13 in The Darling Deli Series by Patti Benning

know,” he told her. “Unless we can figure out some sort of motive, there’s no way to tell. Maybe the real killer wanted to make it look like they killed each other.”
    “This is terrible,” she said. “Do the police have any leads yet?”
    “Not that I know of. You knew Farmer Samwell pretty well, didn’t you?”
    “Sort of,” she shrugged. “We usually only talked business.”
    “Did he ever mention any competitors that he was concerned about?”
    “No. Well, Mr. Franks, but he’s obviously not the killer unless his plot went horribly wrong. Besides, Mr. Samwell was planning to retire soon. If this was about business, why couldn’t the murderer have just waited until he moved and leased out his property?” she wondered.
    “Perhaps whoever it was wanted to buy the property instead of leasing it,” he pointed out. “Do you know what his wife is planning on doing with the farm?”
    “I have no idea,” she said. “But if she’s not going to sell it… do you think that she could be in danger too?”
    He nodded. “It’s definitely something for her to be aware of. I’ll let Detective Jefferson know our ideas, so he can tell her to be aware if he thinks she might be at risk.”
    “All right.” Moira sighed. “Do they know what started the barn fire?”
    “The fire marshal still hasn’t said,” he told her. “Some things they want to keep secret in case the killer reveals knowledge that no one else could have.”
    “That makes sense,” she said. “I hope this gets solved quickly. If I were Mrs. Samwell, I wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink until the killer was caught and behind bars.”
     

CHAPTER TEN
    “I can get that, Ms. D,” Darrin said. “You should go sit down.”
    Moira frowned at the pile of dishes on the bistro table in front of her. She was getting tired of people insisting on doing everything for her, but the fact was what would take her multiple trips to and from the kitchen, Darrin could do in one. She sighed.
    “All right. Hopefully I’ll have this thing off my arm soon though. I hate feeling useless.”
    “You’re the farthest thing from useless, Ms. D. No one would blame you if you didn’t even come in to the store for a while, but you’re still here every day. And now at least the emails are getting answered more quickly than usual. People seem pretty impressed by how quickly we get back to them.”
    Back at the register, Moira sat down on the stool behind the counter and frowned at her tablet. Bored out of her mind, and unable to do much in the kitchen by way of cooking or even dish washing, she had decided to try to catch up on some of the emails sent through the deli’s website. Before the fire, she usually only answered a few each night, so she hadn’t been anywhere near caught up with them. She’d spent the last few days at the deli going through them, and took care to answer each email as pleasantly as she could. Most of them were just messages from people who were impressed with the deli’s service and food. There were a few complaints, but nothing serious. One customer was upset that they didn’t sell wine, so upset that they had even resorted to swearing to show their displeasure. Moira could only chuckle at this. Some people would be unreasonable no matter what, and it wouldn’t make sense to take it personally.
    The deli door jingled as it swung open. Moira looked up from the latest batch of emails to see Augusta Samwell, Mr. Samwell’s widow, enter the store. She looked pale and sad as she approached the register.
    “It’s nice to see you,” Moira said, closing her tablet since she didn’t want to appear rude. “Can I get you anything? Would you like a fresh cup of coffee? On the house?”
    “No, thank you,” the other woman said softly. Her voice was hoarse, as if she had been crying. “Actually, I came in here to see if I could hire you to cater something for me. Cordelia Franks and I want to have a joint event celebrating our