Cold Cut Murder: Book Three in The Darling Deli Series by Patti Benning Page B

Her daughter grinned at her. “Sure, I’ll wrap some up for her. Tell her I’ll be right out.”
    After Martha left, the three of them began the familiar routine of closing up the deli. The extra soup was poured into to-go containers; she gave Darrin half and took the rest for herself. Most nights, she and Candice ate leftovers from the deli for dinner, but she made a point of cooking something new or going out to eat at least once a week. Tonight looked like it would be a soup night though; the pea soup hadn’t sold as well as she had expected. Maybe Martha was right; maybe the food critic was worse for business than she had thought.

CHAPTER TWO
    The next day, she and Dante were the only ones scheduled to work, although Candice would be stopping in later with the first batch of cookies. Moira was at the store at least six days a week, and sometimes worked whole months without a single day off. She was devoted to the store, and her hard work had paid off; she was making a good living for herself and could even help support her daughter in chasing her dreams.
    She usually got to the deli an hour or so before it was supposed to open so that she could get the soup of the day simmering away and ready to be served to hungry customers, but since today was Sunday—the first day of the week-long Winter Festival—she knew that she would have even more work than usual to do. Normally in the off-season she only offered one soup each day and suggested a sandwich to go with it, but this week, to cater to the differing tastes of the visitors, she would be making multiple soups each day in addition to offering hot apple cider and cookies. The Winter Festival was important to the whole town, both because of its long tradition and the financial boost it gave the tourist town during the slow days of winter.
    She got started on the first soup, a simple beef and veggie soup. Once the beef broth was simmering away, she dumped in sliced carrots, pearl onions, freshly snapped green beans, and cubed golden potatoes. She was in the middle of slicing the thick chunk of beef when she heard a knock at the deli’s front door. That’s odd , she thought, freezing mid-slice with the knife gripped tightly in her hand. She had learned caution over the last few months after two people she knew had been murdered. She used to think that Maple Creek was a safe town where nothing bad ever happened. Now she knew otherwise; bad things could happen no matter where you were.
    The person knocked again, so she set down the knife and quickly washed her hands in the kitchen sink. She wasn’t expecting any deliveries today, and her daughter and employees all had keys to let themselves in. Anyone else that she knew would either call her, or just wait until the deli was open to visit.
    She was surprised to see the man from yesterday at the front door—the one that had been there while she and Martha had been talking. He was tall, with sandy blond hair and glasses, and seemed almost constantly nervous. She didn’t know his name, but he seemed to be her newest regular.
    “I’m sorry,” she when she unlocked and opened the front door, “but we aren’t open yet. But please come back in a few hours.”
    “Oh—I was actually hoping to talk to you,” he said, looking down at the snow sidewalk. “I saw your car in the parking lot, and thought you might be less busy if I talked to you now, before the deli is open.”
    “Well, I’ve got soup on the stove, so I don’t have long.” She hesitated, then decided to let the man in. “What’s your name?” she asked as she stepped aside so he could pass her. “I know I’ve seen you a few times, but I don’t think I’ve managed to catch it.”
    “Steven,” he told her. “And I know yours already. Thanks for letting me come in, Moira.”
    “It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “What did you want to talk to me about?” Maybe they sent a different food critic this year, she thought. But no, it wouldn’t