Grilled Rye Murder: Book 16 in The Darling Deli Series

by Patti Benning

  “Yes. Unfortunately, I can’t get the charges completely cleared until we work through the case. But I did manage to get them reduced from second-degree murder to manslaughter—”

  “Murder?” she squeaked, interrupting him for a second time. “But I didn’t do it. I thought this was all some big mistake.”

  “We’re still trying to figure out what’s going on,” David said. He turned in his seat to face her and took both of her hands. “Listen, I know you’re innocent, and so does Detective Jefferson. But someone out there is doing their best to get you put away for Zander’s murder. Didn’t you wonder how the police showed up before you even got a chance to make a call?”

  She nodded. “I thought one of the neighbors must have heard the gunshots and called it in.”

  The private investigator shook his head. “That’s a reasonable assumption, but no. Moira, someone called the police and gave an eyewitness description of someone dressed exactly like you entering the brewery moments before he heard shots go off.”

  “W-what?”

  “It’s true,” Jefferson said grimly. “That’s why Detective Wilson arrested you on the spot.”

  Moira sat back in her chair, feeling faint. Had someone dressed exactly like her killed Zander? Or… was someone trying to frame her specifically? But how would they know what she was wearing?

  “Did you see or hear anything strange when you got there?” David asked. “Or did you notice anyone following you earlier that morning?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I woke up, took care of the dogs, grabbed some coffee, then left for Zander’s. I remember the roads out in the country being empty; if someone was following me, they would have had to be pretty far behind.”

  “How about when you got to his property?” he prodded. “From the description the witness gave, they must have had eyes on you at some point that morning.”

  “I didn’t see anyone else there,” she said. “Except that big black van parked behind his house that I didn’t remember seeing before.”

  The private investigator turned to Detective Jefferson with raised eyebrows. The detective flipped through a sheaf of notes, then shook his head.

  “We don’t have anything on file about a van being there,” he told her. “The only other vehicle was a blue pickup truck that was registered to Zander. Can you describe the vehicle in any more detail? Did you happen to see the license plate?”

  “I don’t remember,” she said, frustrated. “It was just a big black cargo van with tinted windows. I didn’t think too much of it at the time; I just thought he might have had guests or something.”

  “Don’t worry, that’s understandable. I’ll add a note about it to the case file, all right? We’ll do what we can to figure out who it belongs to.”

  She nodded, feeling tense and emotional. “So I’m really a murder suspect? What happens now?”

  “Well, like I said, I managed to get the charges dropped from murder to manslaughter,” the detective told her.

  “I don’t understand the difference. They’re still saying I killed someone, aren’t they?”

  “Murder is premeditated,” he explained. “Manslaughter is done in the heat of the moment. Bail for a murder suspect requires a court hearing, but the judge can set bail for a manslaughter suspect without one. It was the only thing I could think of to get you out of here as quickly as possible without you having to go to court for an arraignment. The fact that the gun found at the crime scene was registered to Zander himself made it easier; you obviously didn’t bring the weapon from home planning to kill him.”

  “Does this mean that I’m free to go once I pay bail?” Moira asked. “What happens then?”

  “Well, you won’t be able to leave the state, and you’ll have to show up for your court date—if this goes to court. I hope to figure out who the real killer is before then, of course. Other than that, you’ll be able to live your life as you normally do.”

  It could be worse, she thought. David and Detective Jefferson are the best investigators I know. With both of them trying to find the real killer, I’m sure my name will be cleared in no time.

  “So how much is my bail?”

  “Sixty thousand dollars,” Jefferson said.

  Moira spluttered.

  “There’s no way I can pay that!”

  “I know. I was going to start looking for a bail bond agency, but about an hour ago, I got an interesting call,” David said. He exchanged a look with the detective.

  “What?” she asked, looking between them.

  “Someone already paid your bail,” her fiancé told her. “All sixty thousand dollars of it. And whoever it was, didn’t leave a name.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “I just don’t understand… who could have done it?”

  It was hours later. Their talk with Detective Jefferson done, Moira had gotten her personal items back from a grouchy woman at the front desk, and David was driving her home through a sudden summer downpour.

  “I’m just as much at a loss as you are,” he said.

  “That’s a lot of money.”

  “I know.” To her surprise, his voice was grim. “There’s definitely something going on here that we don’t understand.”

  “What do we do now? How do we even start figuring out who really killed Zander?”

  “We don’t,” he said sternly, shooting her a glance. “Let Detective Jefferson and I handle this, all right? I know it’s going to be hard for you to sit back and keep out of the investigation, but that’s exactly what you have to do. I don’t want you giving anyone anything to use against you. If you’re caught snooping around his property, it could be bad.”

  “I won’t do anything like that,” she told him. “But maybe I can talk with some of the other people that worked with him. They might have noticed if he was acting strange. One of the ladies I buy specialty bread from gets her wheat and rye from him. That might be a good place to start.”

  “Okay,” he said with a sigh. “If it will keep you out of trouble, go ahead. Just remember—don’t draw attention to yourself. One fingerprint in the wrong place, and the prosecutors could have a real case against you.”

  “Oh! Um…”

  “What?” he glanced over at her again. “What did you do?”

  “I might have touched the gun that was used to kill Zander,” she said. “As in, I picked it up and put it on the desk.”

  “What?” The car swerved.

  “Flower kept trying to pick it up!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t want it to go off or something. I wasn’t thinking straight. I had just found my friend brutally murdered, for goodness sake. I didn’t even remember that I did it until just now.”

  She looked over at David, who was gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. She knew what he was thinking; first, someone had called the police to report a murder, and had described her to a T as the suspect. Now the police were going to find her fingerprints on the gun used in the crime. At this rate, it won’t be long before I’m back in that cell.

  “You need to call Jefferson,” he said at last. “Right away. Tell him anything else you can think of while you’re at it. I’m going to do my best to get us home through this monsoon without crashing.”

  The ensuing phone call with the detective wasn’t the most pleasant one that she had ever had, but by the time it was over, she was glad that she had remembered about touching the gun before they ran the thing for prints. At least she would look less guilty this way.

  “This is terrible,” she groaned as David pulled into her driveway. “The wedding is only a couple of weeks away. I can’t deal with all of this on top of that. Any how are we supposed to go away for our honeymoon if I can’t leave the state?”

  “I’m sure it will all be figured out by then,” he said. “And if not, we’ll have a perfectly nice honeymoon somewhere in Michigan.”

  “Just as long as we don’t have to hold the wedding in a prison.” She bit her lip. “I’m really afraid, David. What
if the police don’t find the real killer? What if whoever made the fake call planted more evidence against me?”

  “Easy now. Detective Jefferson—and even Detective Wilson, even though she doesn’t like you—they’re both good detectives. You’re innocent; no amount of fake evidence or fake witnesses will change that. There’s no such thing as a perfect crime; the real killer will have left some evidence behind, and one of us will find it. Now, let’s go in and see how your daughter fared with the dogs last night.” He kissed her on the cheek and gave her an encouraging smile. “I love you. Everything will be fine.”

  Maverick and Keeva greeted Moira at the door, nearly trampling her in their excitement. She felt a swell of happiness wash over her as she let each dog give her kisses. They didn’t know or care that she was a suspected murderer—they were simply happy that she was home. Her daughter, on the other hand, was a different story.

  “Oh my goodness, Mom! I can’t believe they actually arrested you. You wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

  The second the dogs switched their attention from Moira to David, Candice flung herself at her mother and wrapped her arms around her.

  “It’s okay, sweetie. I’m out now.” The deli owner gave her daughter a squeeze in return. “Thanks so much for coming here and taking care of these two crazies.” She glanced affectionately back at the dogs. “It was a relief not to have to worry about them.”

  “It was the least I could do, Mom. I just can’t believe that you went through all of that. How did you manage to get out? How did you afford the bail?”

  Moira glanced at David. She had no idea how much Candice knew or didn’t know. Everything had happened so quickly while she was in jail that she still felt out of the loop.

  “I told Candice how much your bail was to see if she could help me come up with a solution,” he explained. “She’s a successful businesswoman just like her mom, after all. I thought she might have some good ideas.”

  “I didn’t though,” the young woman admitted. “The only thing I could think of was the same thing David had already thought of—try to find a bond agency.”

  “Well, thankfully it wasn’t needed. Apparently, someone anonymous paid the bail on my behalf.”

  “Wow,” Candice said, her eyes going wide. “That’s a lot of money. You don’t have any clue who did it?”

  “Nope. Who all knew about it?”

  “Well, everyone at the deli,” her daughter said. “I was hanging out with Allison when David called, and I didn’t think to ask her not to tell the others.”

  “Plus me, and probably a few people at the police station,” David added. “It’s not exactly a small pool of people to choose from.”

  “I don’t see how anyone working at the police station or the deli could afford that sort of payment,” Moira said. “Wait… David, did you…?”

  The private investigator grinned. “I wish I could take the credit for it, but no. Unfortunately, I don’t have any secret riches hidden away somewhere. What you see is what you get.”

  “That’s more than enough for me,” the deli owner said with a smile. He kissed her, a quick brush of his lips against hers.

  “Eww,” Candice said, wrinkling her nose. “At least wait until I’m gone to do that. You’re awesome, David, but I still don’t want to see you and my mom kiss.”

  “Sorry,” he said with a chuckle. “I should get going, actually. I’m going to spend the rest of the day seeing what I can dig up on Zander Marsh. The guy was a rising star in the microbrewery world—maybe he stepped on some toes in his journey towards the top.”

  “Let me know if you find anything?”

  “Of course.”

  She smiled, glad that he wasn’t going to try to wall her out of the investigation as he had done in the past. “I’ll follow you outside so I can kiss you goodbye without offending my dear daughter.”

  Candice rolled her eyes, and Moira laughed. The last two days had been a challenge, but she certainly had an amazing support system to help her through it.

  CHAPTER SIX

  At the deli the next morning, Moira was faced with an unpleasant surprise. A news van was waiting in the parking lot, and the cameraman and reporter were standing right outside the locked front doors. Somehow they must have found out about her arrest. The only question was; how much did they know?

  “Ms. Darling?” the reporter said, rushing forward as she opened her car door. “My name is Brendan Anaheim. I’d love the chance to interview you about your recent arrest and subsequent release. I work for Beyond News, an up-and-coming local station. We bring in stories from Traverse City all the way up to Mackinaw City. A story like this would turn Maple Creek from a sleepy tourist town into the hot spot of the year.”

  “I’m sorry,” Moira told him. “But I really need to get inside and start working.” She looked over at the cameraman, not sure whether he was recording or not. The last thing she wanted was to be on the evening news.

  “It will only take a moment, Ms. Darling. Just imagine the headlines! Fifty-Year-Old Woman Brutally Kills Farmer: Who’s Next? We would get thousands of viewers. You’d become famous overnight.”

  “I’m not fifty,” the deli owner snapped, losing patience with the man. “And I didn’t kill him.” She made to step around him, but he backpedaled, keeping himself between her and the deli door.

  “So you’re going to claim innocence? Even better! Let the viewers hear your side of the story. Let the public hear the truth!”

  He was the most exuberant man that she had ever met, and she was sure that whatever she told him would be twisted to match what he wanted his viewers to see… but still, what he said gave her pause. Maybe it would be a good idea to get her side of the story out there, especially if rumors that she had killed Zander were going around already.

  “I’ll think about it,” she told him at last. “But right now, I really do need to get to work.”

  “Of course! Here’s my card. Call me any time of the day or night to set up an interview. The sooner the better. How about tonight? Tomorrow morning? I could do lunch—”

  “I don’t know when yet,” she told him, cutting him off. “I still need to wrap my brain around everything that’s going on. Thank you for the card. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

  With that she stepped around him, quickly unlocked the deli’s front door, and hurried inside. She was completely shaken by what had happened—how had news about her arrest gotten out already?—but thought that considering the situation, she had handled the news team’s ambush well.

  She got the breakfast cookies and mini quiches in the oven with time to spare, and spent the last few minutes before the deli officially opened getting the ingredients ready for the lunch selection: a creamy chicken and gnocchi soup and bean sprout salad sandwiches on rye. One thing she loved about owning her own restaurant was the freedom to play with new dishes whenever she wanted. She enjoyed making something new almost every single day, and her customers seemed to enjoy the variety as well. Of course, some of her soups did so well that people would ask for them specifically when they came in. She made extra of her most popular soups and sold it in small frozen containers.

  That’s what’s so nice about being a small business, she thought as she pulled the tray of cranberry and white chocolate breakfast cookies out of the oven. I can work with my customers individually, instead of being forced to stick to some corporate policy.

  She was just putting the finishing touches on a platter of quiches when she heard the bell on the deli’s front door jingle, signaling the arrival of one of her employees. She assumed it was Meg, who was scheduled to work with her that morning, so was surprised when Jenny walked in.

  “Oh dear, what’s wrong?” Moira asked, the sight of the woman’s red puffy eyes and tear-streaked face making her forget all about the quiches.

  “I—I just heard about Zander,” Jenny said. Her voice was tremulous, and Moira realized she must have been crying all night.

  “Did y
ou know him very well?” the deli owner asked, guiding the young woman over to a stool. She understood how shocking it could be when someone you knew died suddenly, but Jenny’s reaction seemed over the top. As far as she knew, they had only met a few times when Zander dropped off last-minute deliveries for some of their catering jobs.

  “Yeah, I dated him for a couple of months,” Jenny said, sniffling. Moira, though surprised by this news, just patted the girl on the back. “We had just started really talking and spending time together again. I thought it was weird when he didn’t answer my calls yesterday… but I never imagined he was dead.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “There was a news story. I just caught the end of it.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t want to believe it, but the same story was online too.”

  “I’m so sorry, Jenny. That must have been horrible.”

  “They were saying that you killed him, Ms. D! I don’t believe them, of course, but I had to come over here and ask… what really happened?”

  Moira told her everything, not leaving out even the smallest detail in case the young woman, as Zander’s friend, recognized something that she, David, and the police had overlooked. She was still surprised at the revelation that the two had dated, but the more she thought about it, the more sense that it made. Zander was only about five years older than Jenny, after all, and Jenny’s family had a winery in the lower part of the state. They must have had a fair amount in common.

  “What did they say about me?” the deli owner asked at last. “How do they even know that I was arrested? What station was this?”

  “Um, I don’t know. I was just flipping through channels. It might have been called Beyond News or something? Not one of the big ones.”

  Moira frowned. She wasn’t surprised. That reporter must have had some sort of source inside the police station. Now all I need is for them to find out about my bail being anonymously posted, and they’ll definitely have something to report about.