were plenty of other people in the tent, most of whom probably knew Reuben better than I did. Besides, if it was poison, the killer wouldn’t even have needed to be in the same room as his victim.”
“We never said anything about poison, Ms. Darling,” Detective Wilson said, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Care to tell me how you know that the victim was poisoned?”
“David mentioned it after he talked to the paramedics,” Moira said quickly, realizing her mistake. When would she learn to keep her mouth shut? “He told me that the paramedics said it looked like poison, but they couldn’t be certain without doing tests, of course.”
“Excuse us for a moment, Moira,” Detective Jefferson cut in smoothly. “We’ll be right back. Are you sure I can’t get you a water, or coffee, or anything when I come back?”
“Thanks, but no,” she told him.
Alone in the interview room, she cast her mind back and tried to remember more about that Saturday at the fair. Had she seen anyone acting suspiciously? In truth, she hadn’t been paying much attention to anything except what the judges were doing. She had been so focused on the idea of winning the contest that she had hardly looked anywhere else.
And why were the two detectives so focused on her? She had absolutely no motive to kill Reuben. Besides, why would she want to interrupt the very contest that she had hoped to win? It didn’t make sense. If the police had had the same idea that she did after hearing that Reuben Willis was a last-minute substitute for his father, then they must think that she had originally meant to poison Mayor Willis himself. Moira scoffed. Why would she want to kill the mayor, when she had already spent a lot of money—that she’d never be reimbursed for—ordering food for his daughter’s engagement party?
No, there was no reason that she could see that would make them suspect her… unless it was the gumbo that had killed him. She inhaled sharply, suddenly understanding. That would explain why Reuben had made a face when he tasted the gumbo for the first time, and why he had tried to get the taste out of his mouth by eating the cornbread. The killer must have used some sort of poison with a bitter taste. But what poison could kill someone so quickly… and more importantly, who had put it in the gumbo?
Detective Jefferson opened the door to the interview room, jolting her out of her reverie. He waved her over.
“You can go, Moira. Just stick near your phone and be ready to come in again if we need anything else, all right?”
She nodded. “Detective Jefferson… can you tell me if I’m actually a suspect in this case?”
He hesitated. “Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to call you a suspect. We’re still in the beginning stages of the investigation, and haven’t even gotten full reports back from the lab yet. My advice is to keep your head down, and to contact us immediately if you remember anything else. You have my number; feel free to call me at any time of day or night if anything, no matter how small, comes back to you.”
“I will,” she promised him. He smiled.
“Thank you for your cooperation. Hopefully this will all be over before you know it. Until then, just stay safe and stay out of trouble.”
He followed her through the door, then walked with her through the halls until they reached the door to the parking lot. He said goodbye with a nod, and she was free to go.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Do you want to order pizza or Chinese?” Candice asked, her phone in her hand. “I’m starved; either one sounds good to me.”
“I don’t have a preference,” Moira told her daughter. “It’s your choice.”
The young woman made a face, then considered the Chinese takeout menu again.
“I think I’ll go with Chinese. They don’t deliver, but they’re only like five minutes away, and I really love their noodles. Do you know what David will want?”
The local Chinese food place, Hong Kong Fortunes, was