Dear Ms. D, I hope you find this. I just wanted to let you know that I’m okay, and I didn’t kill anybody. I can’t tell you where I am or what’s going on in case the person who’s after me finds this, but I didn’t want everyone at the deli to think I’m a murderer. I hope none of this affects you, and I’m really sorry if I’ve caused you trouble. -D
She handed it off to Candice once she had finished reading it, and then looked up at David.
“He didn’t do it,” she said with relief. David nodded.
“He could be lying, but I don’t think so.” He frowned, glancing down at the note once more. “I just wish he had given us more to go on. How are we supposed to help him if we don’t know how to contact him?”
“We still don’t know who the killer is either,” Moira pointed out. “It could be anyone. I might see them every day, or they might be a complete stranger.”
“Just be careful, and don’t go anywhere alone,” he told her. “You said you saw Dante in Lake Marion last?”
“I think so,” Candice told him. “Well, I saw his car at least.”
“All right, I’m going to go take a look around. I’ll take another look at the footage from last night, too.” He looked at each of them in turn. “You three be careful. We still don’t know exactly what’s going on, and if someone thinks one of you is helping Dante, you all could be in danger.”
“We’ll be careful,” the deli owner promised. “I should probably call Detective Jefferson and tell him about the note. You be careful too, David. If the killer is targeting people that Dante knows, you could be a target as well. You’ve known him for as long as I have.”
The private investigator gave a brief nod, and then bid her and her employees a farewell. Moira could tell by the look in his eyes that he was eager to get to work. Despite everything, she felt a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth. They really weren’t that different from each other—they both loved a mystery, after all.
* * *
There was no way that they would be able to officially open the deli today, so Moira sent Darrin home and started working on order forms to replace the food that had been destroyed. Some items would be harder to replace than others, since most fresh produce wasn’t in season right now. They would scrape by, though. She was already trying to figure out how much they would have to change the specials that she had planned out for the next week. At least she had the freedom to tweak the recipes if she had to.
She was just putting the order forms in her purse when her cell phone began to buzz. A glance at the screen told her that it was Detective Jefferson for the second time that day. What could it possibly be now? she wondered.
“Ms. Darling, do you think you could meet me at your house? There was another attempted break-in,” he said.
“Wait, hold on,” she said, her mind whirling. “Someone tried to break into my house?”
“Yes ma’am. And this time, we caught them in the act.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
After locking up the deli as best she could—anyone would be able to get in through the open window, after all—she and Candice hurried back to the house. A single patrol vehicle was waiting for them, out of which Detective Jefferson stepped when they pulled into the driveway.
“It’s been a rough day, I know,” he said when they got out of the car. “This shouldn’t take long.”
“Is the house all right?” Moira asked, half expecting to see another broken window.
“The back door is slightly scratched where the perp tried to force it open with a crowbar, but luckily one of our officers stopped him before any real damage could be done,” he told her.
“Did you arrest him?” she asked.
“Sadly, he got away. But I think it was the same guy. He was wearing an outfit similar to what the person in the video was wearing, and left the same shoe prints in the snow.”
“Thank goodness my daughter and I weren’t here this time either,” Moira said. “Did someone report him? How did you see him if he was in the back?”
“I sent a squad car over to keep an eye on your place,” the detective said with a shrug. “It was just a hunch, but it turned out to be a good one. The note left on the wall at the deli made it clear that someone was targeting you specifically.”
“Well, I’m glad you did. Thanks. I don’t think I could stand another mess like the one at the deli.” She sighed, feeling tired and angry at whoever was making life miserable for her and her employees. “What do you need me to do?”
After Moira took a quick peek inside and walked around the outside of her house with the officer to make sure nothing was damaged or missing, Jefferson seemed satisfied that she and Candice would be safe there alone. Moira remembered the note right before he left, and handed it to him with a quick explanation of how they had found it. After promising to email him the video footage from that night too, she and her daughter thanked him one last time and watched him drive away.
* * *
After getting off the phone with Moira, David sat in silence for a few moments. He couldn’t understand what it was about the deli owner that seemed to attract so much trouble. She was honest and kindhearted; in no way did she deserve all that had been happening to her. He was just glad that her house hadn’t been ransacked—it had been good thinking on the part of Detective Jefferson to send a squad car out to keep an eye on things. He hoped that someone would be watching her house tonight, too, in case the masked vandal decided to try again.
The question was, had the person been looking for something in particular, or was he just there to cause chaos? David had the gut feeling that whoever it was thought that Moira was hiding Dante in her house. The need to find the young man was getting more and more urgent. Innocent or not, the longer Dante was gone, the longer Moira’s life would be in danger. Watching the video of the deli break-in again and again wasn’t going to help—he needed to get out there and find the missing employee.
He decided that his best bet would be to get organized first. There would be no use just driving around and hoping that he happened to cross paths with Dante, especially not with dusk falling. No, in the morning he would start at one end of town and work his way through, checking at each hotel, motel, and rest stop. If he didn’t find the kid in Lake Marion, he would head to Maple Creek and start over looking there. Someone thought that Dante was still in town, and as long as they thought that, Moira and the people she cared about would be in danger.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Armed with a hot thermos of coffee and a picture of Dante’s car, David set out early the next morning to see if he could find the missing deli employee. At first, he was optimistic, but as the hours passed and he didn’t see any sign of the vehicle, he began to lose hope. There was no proof that Dante was even still around. For all David knew, the young man could be halfway to Oklahoma. Even if Candice had seen his car the day before, the kid could still be long gone. The search was beginning to feel more and more like a wild goose chase.
He was on the verge of giving up when he hit pay dirt. A car that perfectly matched the one in the picture had just crossed through an intersection in front of him—complete with the spot of rust on the door. Feeling adrenaline flood his veins, he forced himself not to accelerate and instead took the turn at a normal speed. Keeping far enough back that the driver of the car in front of him wouldn’t realize that he was being followed, David tailed him.
The car led him on a slow tour through town, and eventually ended up on one of the long, curving highways that would eventually come to the coast of Lake Michigan. The lake was a good half hour away, and it looked like the car was going to putter along the whole way there. Trying to force himself to stay back, remain calm, and focus on not spooking Dante, David settled in for the ride.
Just a few miles before the rolling hills and sandy woods gave way to the beach, the car turned off at an unmarked intersection that David had probably driven past a hundred times before without noticing. He slowed his car and
paused for a moment before turning; on such a small road, it would be obvious that he was following the other car. He was reluctant to give up his advantage of surprise, but didn’t want to risk losing the vehicle. He would just have to hope that he had indeed been following the right car, and that Dante wasn’t too jumpy.
The dirt road was bumpy and rough, with dry dirt giving way to sudden pits of sand that threatened to bog down his vehicle. The half-melted ice just served to make everything even more slippery, and David had to concentrate just to keep his car on the track. Dante’s car had disappeared around a curve, and he was worried for a second that he had lost it. When he rounded the corner, however, he saw that it had pulled off to the side, and the driver’s side door was open. This could get interesting, he thought as he pulled up behind the car. He glanced in the windows as he walked up to make sure no one was in it, and then turned towards the trees.
“Dante,” he called out. “It’s David Morris, Moira Darling’s friend. I want to help.” He waited, tense, knowing that so much could go wrong. Relief flowed through his when a slim form appeared from behind an old tree.
“You shouldn’t have followed me,” Dante said. “You don’t know what’s going on—you could get hurt.”
“I think you need to start at the beginning,” the private detective told him. “And tell me everything. I can help… and if I can’t, I can get you to someone who can.”
He listened to the young man’s story with growing concern. It sounded like the person they were dealing with had a lot of blood on his hands already, and wouldn’t hesitate to shed some more. Wondering once again how Moira managed to find such trouble seemingly out of nowhere, David ushered Dante into his car.
“Come with me,” he said. “We’ll stop by the deli and tell Moira what’s going on, and then get you to the police station. Tell them what you just told me, and don’t hold anything back.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Thanks to the helpful man from the local hardware shop, Moira got to the deli in the morning to discover that a bundle of plastic sheeting had been donated to temporarily cover the gaping hole where the window had been while she waited for the repair company to come out and fix it. It was a simple matter for her and Candice to tape it up. The plastic served better as windbreak than insulation, but at least she no longer had to worry about snow blowing in.
She got started on the soup of the day as soon as the plastic was up, and sent her daughter to town to pick up some necessities from the grocery store. With slices of pork sizzling away in a pan with onions and carrots, and the potatoes slowly coming to a boil, she was feeling much better. It was good to be back in the usual rhythm of things. She just had to keep telling herself that Dante would be okay, and that all of this would get solved before she knew it.
She didn’t know what to expect at the deli that day. By now, surely the whole town had either heard about the break-in, or seen the shattered window as they drove past. There would likely be a lot of sightseers, so she decided to make extra soup. The creamy Pork and Potato soup was rich and filling, with just a hint of clove. It was a new recipe, and the best she could do with her limited ingredients. She hoped that the delicious smell would entice the curious townsfolk who stopped by to buy a bowl before they left. With all of the goods that she had to replace, she could certainly use the money.
Once the deli had officially opened for the day, she found herself busy enough not to dwell on any of her concerns. The townspeople—her regulars—were all concerned and supportive. A couple of people suggested that she set up some sort of donation jar to help with the money that she would need to replace the destroyed food and pay off the insurance deductible for the window, but she declined, not liking the thought of taking donated money for business expenses.
During a rare break in the rush of people, she sent Candice to the back to start on some of the dishes while she took the opportunity to call the local window shop and see how long it would take them to do a custom double pane of glass for her. A customer walked in while she was on hold, and she glanced up to mouth a quick I’m sorry to him. Then she did a double take, something about the tall man standing in front of her nudging her memory.
He was thin, with blonde hair, and looked familiar. Where had she seen him before? She wasn’t sure, but she thought that he had come in the day before Dante had disappeared. She remembered her employee’s odd reaction when he saw him, and her decision not to question him about it. Now she really wished that she had.
With her pulse pounding in her ears, she hung up on the window repair company and slowly turned away from him. All she could think of was to get Candice and get out. If this was the man that Dante had been afraid of, and the same one who had ransacked the deli, then she and her daughter were in danger.
She hadn’t gone more than a few steps before she heard movement behind her. She didn’t even have time to spin around before a hand pressed a sweet, almost rotten-smelling cloth against her mouth and nose. Struggling, she tried not to breathe it in, but to no avail. After only a few seconds, she was getting dizzy. It felt like someone had stuffed cotton into her ears, and her vision was going blurry. She hardly even noticed it as he dragged her out the front door and shoved her into a car. Her head hit the roof, and everything went black.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Are you finally waking up?”
Still feeling disoriented, Moira did her best to sit up. Her head was aching, both from where she had hit it on the car, and a duller, more insidious ache that was probably from whatever sickeningly sweet chemical had been on the cloth. The last few minutes—or had it been longer?—were just a disoriented jumble of memories to her. As if to add insult to injury, her stomach suddenly clenched with nausea. Biting the inside of her cheek in hopes that the pain would help her get back to normal quickly, she tried not to vomit as she looked around.
She was in a car parked in what looked like a campground. The lot was empty except for an ancient mobile home and a charcoal grill. The car smelled bad, like old shoes and stale cigar smoke. There were fast food wrappers crumpled to the floor. The tall man who was sitting in the driver’s seat nudged her.
“Get up already. I’ve been waiting around too long. Shouldn’t have hit your head; I think that knocked you out more than the chloroform did.”
“What… what’s going on?” she asked. She made the mistake of moving her head to her a better look at him, and the world spun.
“I got fed up with waiting. I need to find the kid, and you’re going to help. Come on.” He got out of the car and walked over to open her door, grabbing her and pulling her out of the vehicle by force. She tumbled unceremoniously to the ground, trying—and failing—to catch herself.
“I don’t know where he is,” she mumbled as she struggled to her feet. Her eyes darted to the forest that seemed to press in from all sides. Should she run? No… she could barely stand, and she knew her unsteady stomach would foil any escape attempt. Maybe he would let her just stand here and lean against the car for a while. No such luck.
“Don’t lie to me.” He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her towards the mobile home. “One of you has got to be hiding him. If it’s not you, then who is it? That blonde girl? The other guy that works at the deli? How about the private eye? One of them knows where the kid is; he doesn’t know anyone else here.”
“None of us have seen him, I promise,” Moira managed to gasp out. Her nausea was only increasing, but she didn’t want to risk making the man even more angry by vomiting. “Who are you? Why are you after Dante?”
“Let’s just say it’s a personal grudge. I spent eleven years in prison thanks to him,” the man sneered. “And his little traitor cousin thought he could warn him. I showed him though, didn’t I?”
He seemed to be talking to himself when he said this. He was staring off into space, his eyes wild and bloodshot, as if he was reliving the past all over again in that moment. Moira tripped, falling to her knees in the snow. Her arm was yanked
out of her assailant’s grasp, but he didn’t seem to care.
“Even if you don’t know where the kid is hiding, you’ll still help me,” he was saying. “You can be another message for him, how would you like that? Maybe he’ll come out of hiding once I start killing his friends one by one.”
As her mind became clearer and the remnants of the chloroform’s chemical anesthesia faded, panic began to set in. The man seemed beyond reason. He was obviously off his rocker, and had proven himself to be dangerous. And while she was thinking more clearly now, her head was still pounding and she didn’t know whether she would be able to stand. Running still seemed out of the question. Even if she could make it to the trees, where would she go? They were probably a few miles outside of town, and she didn’t even have her coat on. Her cell phone must have been dropped when the man attacked her, and she was definitely not in any state to try to find her way back to civilization on her own.
Thinking of her cell phone brought her to her daughter and the fact that Candice had likely walked out of the back room to find her mother gone, having left behind her phone and car. What must she have thought? Hopefully Candice had noticed Moira’s absence quickly and had called the cops as soon as she could. She would just have to hope that someone was looking for her and fall back on her tried and true practice of stalling for as long as she could.
“What makes you think Dante is even still around?” she asked. “Wouldn’t be smarter for him to have left town as soon as he knew you were looking for him?”
“I saw his car a couple of times,” the man grunted. “Always while I was on foot, though. Oh, he’s around. He’s watching me. He has nowhere else to go, and he knows it. This is the end of the line.”
“You said you were in prison,” Moira began, casting about for anything that she could think of to try to change his mind. “It must have been horrible there. Is revenge really worth the risk of going back?”
Grilled Cheese Murder: Book 4 in The Darling Deli Series Page 5