Spicy Lasagna Murder: Book 13 in The Darling Deli Series Read Online Free Page A

shoulder and finally declared that it wouldn’t need stitches after all. Then pain was forgotten as she received anesthesia in preparation for having the cast put on her arm.
    Although she felt as if she’d been in the hospital for days, it was only a few hours before she was finally able to lean back on the bed without pain in her arm. The nurse had warned her that her feelings of euphoria would end soon, as the anesthesia wore off, but for now she was enjoying the sensation of floating on a soft cloud of comfort.
    “They said you could have visitors,” David said, knocking on the door frame. “Can I come in?”
    She nodded, too tired to make words and unaware that she wore a huge, silly grin. The skin on her face felt tight, and she wondered if she was burned.
    “It looks like they got you all fixed up,” he said, taking a seat in the chair in the corner of the room. “How are you feeling?”
    She surprised both of them by giggling.
    “Really good,” she said.
    He raised an eyebrow.
    “Pain meds,” she whispered earnestly. Her throat was still too sore to speak normally.
    “Ah.” David grinned himself as he nodded his understanding. “Well, enjoy them while you can. Did the doctor tell you anything about what you can expect for recovery time yet?”
    She shook her upper body no.
    “He said he’s coming in laaaaterrrrr.”
    A second knock from the door interrupted them. Moira looked over to see Detective Jefferson.
    “C’mon in,” she whispered, gesturing grandly with her good arm.
    “Ms. Darling, I’m sorry, but I need to ask you some questions about what happened,” he said, coming in and standing by her bed. “Is now a good time? If you’re in pain or too tired, I can come back a little bit later.”
    “No. Iss fine,” she told him. “Be’er now ’fore my medici-medicini-cation goes away.”
    “All right. I’ll be as quick as possible, I promise.” He glanced over at David. “Mr. Morris, do you think I could talk to Moira alone?”
    The private investigator sighed, but nodded and stood up to leave.
    “I’ll come back when he’s done,” he promised her. “Feel free to tell him to stop if you need rest.”
    Then he was gone, and the deli owner turned her attention to the police detective standing in front of her.
    “What d’you wan’?” she asked.
    “Right now I’m just going to ask you to start from the beginning,” he said. “Tell me what happened starting from just before the fire started until you got to the hospital.”
    She nodded slowly, gathering her thoughts. Then she took a deep breath and launched into her story.
    By the time she had finished, the detective’s eyebrows were near his hairline.
    “Are you sure you saw a third person?” he asked, tapping his pen against the notebook.
    She nodded. “Posilutely. Well, unless I was hallu-hallu— seeing things. I don’t know wha’ happened after that, to be tot’ly honest.”
    “I’ll have to speak with the doctor about how likely it is to hallucinate when you’re low on oxygen due to smoke inhalation,” he said. “What you did was very brave, Moira.”
    Her giddy mood suddenly turned somber. “S’useless,” she said. “They both shtill died.”
    “Not many people would have even tried to save them,” he pointed out.
    “I wish, I wish, I wish Icouldahelpedsomehow,” she said quietly. “Poor Mrs. Samwell. They were gon’ retire t’Florida together. Farmer Sam-Sam-Samwheel was only months away from retirement.” She took a deep breath, then asked, “Who wassa other man?”
    She was half expecting Detective Jefferson to be unable to tell her, but to her surprise he had an answer for her right away.
    “It was a man named Abram Franks,” he told her. “Also a farmer. Does his name sound familiar to you at all?”
    She fell silent for a moment, struggling to remember where she had heard that name before. Her wits seemed to be coming back slowly; luckily she still felt no pain.
    “Acsh’lly, maybe,”