Chicken Pesto Murder: Book 5 in The Darling Deli Series by Patti Benning Page A

the car, manually unlocked the door, and threw herself into the downpour. She heard his footsteps rounding the car, and knew that he would be on her in moments.
    She wasn’t the fastest runner at the best of times, but tonight she felt like she was moving in a dream. No matter how hard she pounded her legs, she felt like she was moving in slow motion. Mikey’s shape loomed behind her, and out of the corner of her eye she saw him raise the crowbar. He might not have originally planned to kill, but in the thrill of the chase, he seemed to have forgotten his desire for a hostage.
    Moira squeezed her eyes shut and tried her best to duck the blow. She knew that she hadn’t been fast enough, and was prepared to feel the sharp pain of the blow.
    A sudden loud snap shocked her, and she had just enough time to throw her hands out in front of her to cushion her fall before she smashed into the ground. Her ankle blazed with pain, and she realized that one of her heels, which she had worn to dinner with David earlier in the evening, must have broken. A moment later, Mikey, unable to stop his momentum, tumbled over her. She heard a sharp clang as the crowbar landed only inches from her head.
    Struggling to untangle herself, Moira managed to get to her feet. Mentally cursing her choice in shoes, she reached down and tried to snap off the remaining heel like she had seen people do in movies. Either they used special prop shoes, or she was even more out of shape than she had thought, for all she accomplished was scraping the palm of her hand.
    Mikey was beginning to reach for the crowbar so, left with no other choice, she began to hobble away from him. Between the unevenness of having one three-inch-high heel and one broken one, and the flaming pain in her ankle, her pace was slow, but the dog thief must have been injured in the fall as well, because he was still on the ground, a groan coming from his lips.
    Moira was heading back to her car—the windows might be broken, but if she could find the keys, it would still drive—when she saw flashing lights on the main road. She paused, hoping, and felt almost faint with relief as the police car turned into the parking lot.
     

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
    “David’s coming over,” Moira told her daughter from the couch. “He said that he’ll be here in a few minutes.”
    “All right, I’ll go make sure the door is unlocked.” Candice paused at the entrance to the living room. “Are you sure you don’t need me to get you anything else?”
    “I’m fine for now, sweetie,” she replied. “Thanks.” She gave her daughter a grateful smile and rearranged herself on the cushion, then winced when her ankle began throbbing. She knew that she was lucky to escape last night’s fiasco with nothing more than a sprained ankle and some scrapes, but being injured was never fun.
    “How are you doing?” David asked when he got there. He looked tired, but happier than he had in a while, besides the concern for her that pulled his brow together in a slight frown.
    “I’ve been better,” she said. “But I’ve also been worse. It’s not too bad. I’m supposed to take a couple of days off.” She made a face, and he laughed.
    “Anyone else would be glad to have a few days of guilt-free bed rest, but not you,” he said fondly. More seriously, he added, “I’m glad you’re okay.”
    “Thanks. Me too.” She smiled at him. “It’s good to see you. I’m so glad they released you as soon as they realized the truth.”
    “Detective Jefferson is a fair man, and he cares about getting the right guy. He was very apologetic when he let me out of the cell.”
    “It’s good that he was so quick to review the evidence,” she said. “Otherwise you might have had to spend the whole night in the holding cell.”
    “And you might have been Mikey Strauss’s next victim.” David’s frown deepened, and he sat down on the chair across the room from the couch. “You need to stop getting into trouble,