Creamy Casserole Murder: Book 15 in The Darling Deli Series

by Patti Benning

  “I’m Danny Hatchfield,” he said once he was settled. “Beatrice’s son.”

  “Oh.” Moira exchanged a glance with David. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You, too. Reggie has been telling me so much about you. He was a close friend of my mother, and has really been helping me get through all of this.”

  “I’m so sorry about her passing,” the deli owner said. “She must have meant the world to you.”

  “I hate to say it, but we actually weren’t that close for a long time. I was just beginning to come around when… when she died. I feel horrible about it. I spent more time visiting my aunt—her sister—than I did visiting her.”

  “Is your aunt here, too?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes. They were very close, and demanded to be put into the same home together. Other than me, they were the only family that they had.”

  “No one else?” Moira wondered aloud.

  “No… my dad was in the military and never came back from his last deployment, and my aunt never got married. I’m an only child, so I had to do everything. Luckily, this place isn’t too far away from where I work, and it’s one of the nicer homes in the state.”

  “Well, even though you and your mother weren’t close, you did step up and take care of her. I’m sure she knew that, and appreciated it.”

  “Thanks.” He sighed. “This whole thing has been a nightmare. Her funeral is Tuesday, and if I’m being honest, I can’t wait until it’s over. Once her ashes are spread I’ll finally be able to have closure.”

  The rest of the dinner was eaten in awkward silence. None of them were comfortable talking about personal matters with Danny there, and he didn’t seem to have much else to say. Reggie looked triumphant, and kept shooting Moira meaningful glances. She avoided his gaze, not wanting to let him know what she was thinking until she got a chance to talk to David. Maybe someone having a motive to kill her wasn’t enough reason to believe that Beatrice had been murdered, but surely her son was acting suspicious. He seemed more annoyed by her death than anything. He says he can’t wait until the funeral is over, she thought. She’s getting cremated, so in just a couple of days there won’t be a chance of anyone doing a full autopsy on her body. Isn’t that just a little bit too convenient?

  She waited until she and David were driving home before telling him her concerns. He listened, but seemed reluctant to agree with her.

  “I agree that Danny didn’t seem too beat up about her death,” he said. “But there are plenty of people who wouldn’t be too sad to see their parents go. Not everyone has the same sort of relationship with their children that you do with Candice.”

  “She’s getting cremated, though,” Moira said. “And he said he can’t wait until her funeral is over. Don’t you think that’s suspicious? He’s probably getting her cremated her so no one will be able to dig up her body if people have suspicions later.”

  “Or she wanted to be cremated. It’s a lot less expensive than a burial, and if she knew her son was having money problems—”

  “That’s another point,” she interrupted. “From what Reggie said, Danny doesn’t have much money at all. You saw his clothes today; they weren’t the nicest. And he wasn’t close to his mother—do you really think he would spend thousands every month to keep her in there, even if he could afford it? No, she must have had money of her own, and a lot of it. If he’s the only living relative, then he’s probably set to inherit it all. And since Danny was her immediate family member, he would have had the code to unlock the doors. It all makes perfect sense.”

  “This is all just conjecture,” David said. He sighed, then added, “But you do have a point. I’m still not convinced, but I’ll look into it for you if you want. I can do a background check on him, see what his financial situation is like, and if he has any priors.”

  “So does this mean I can tell Reggie we’re investigating?”

  “You can tell Reggie I’m investigating. Your only job is to keep in contact with him and tell me if he comes up with anything else, all right?”

  Moira ground her teeth, but conceded. She hated it when David tried to keep her from investigating this sort of thing with him, but it wasn’t like she really wanted something else on her plate right now. Between the deli, catering, and catching up on housework, she was already busier than she wanted to be. Besides, David knew what he was doing and had better resources than she did. She would just get in the way if she tried to investigate this on her own.

  “Fine,” she said. “You’d better tell Reggie not to go poking around either. I’ve got the feeling that he wants this to be a murder, and knowing him, he’ll probably get into trouble trying to prove that he’s right.”

  “I’ll give him a call tomorrow,” David said with a smile. He reached one arm over and draped it over her shoulder. “If only my paying clients needed my help as often as the two of you do, I’d be rich.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  By the time they got back to her house and David had kissed her goodbye, it was too late to call Reggie. Since she had to be up bright and early for the morning shift at the deli the next morning, she decided to call him them. She was certain he would be glad to hear that David was going to look into Danny’s finances, and she was going to have to apologize for not taking him more seriously right away. There still wasn’t any solid evidence that Beatrice had been killed, but her son certainly did seem like a suspicious character.

  Up at the crack of dawn, Moira spent a significant amount of time grumbling about how much she hated early mornings while she waited for her coffee machine to gurgle out the last drops of her morning drink. By the time she had finished her first cup, she felt more like a normal human being and was even able to take a moment to appreciate just how beautiful the forest around her house was at sunrise. Sunlight filtered down from the canopy above, and the grass in her yard sparkled with dew. She opened the kitchen widow to let the birdsong in, then grabbed her cellphone to call Reggie.

  Just as she had guessed, he was happy to hear her news. She had to admire his determination; he had manipulated her, David, and Danny into having dinner together so they could see just how suspiciously Danny was acting. Reggie might be old, but his brain was still sharp… most of the time.

  By the time she got to the deli, all vestiges of sleepiness were gone and she found herself to be in an unusually good mood. An idea for a new flavor of breakfast cookie percolated in her mind, and she was eager to try it. Even better, Allison had called and asked if she could pick up some extra shifts to help pay for the online classes she was taking; so Moira suddenly had Wednesday completely off. She was already planning to make a big lunch, though she wasn’t sure who she would invite—maybe Candice, and she could take the opportunity to catch her daughter up on Reggie’s theory of Beatrice’s murder.

  Since Dante wouldn’t be in for another half an hour, the deli was empty and still locked up when she got there. Humming to herself, she unlocked the front doors and slipped inside, pausing to turn the bolt behind her. She had had enough close calls that she no longer felt comfortable leaving the deli unlocked while she was there alone, but she still loved the feeling of being by herself in the building. With its fully stocked fridges and pantries, its state-of-the-art appliances, and the long, clean counters in the kitchen, the possibilities felt endless. She could make just about anything she wanted, and it was the best feeling in the world.

  She began by preheating the oven, listening with satisfaction as the gas inside ignited. She grabbed one of the clean cookie sheets from the dish rack above the industrial sized sink and applied a non-stick coconut oil spray. Having skipped breakfast at her house, her mouth was already watering at the thought of the delicious cookies that she was about to make. I’ll only have one, she promised herself, knowing that she would probably have a few of Dante’s mini-quiches too. I really need to come up with some low-calorie options. I’m sure my customers would appreciate it… and I know my scale would.

&nb
sp; She got to work, pulling a large glass mixing bowl out of the cupboard and dumping a few cups of steel-cut oats into it. She added a big dollop of almond butter, a couple of tablespoons of brown sugar, some crushed pecans, and then the most important ingredient—two cups of pure maple syrup.

  After mixing it all together, she spooned clumps of the thick dough onto the cookie sheet and slid it into the oven while she wiped down the counters. Dante arrived just as the oven beeped, and she made him sit down to try them with her. She was so hungry that she burned her mouth on the first bite, but even through the pain she could tell that this was another delicious flavor.

  “Good job, Ms. D,” Dante said with appreciation. “I think I’ll make the maple bacon quiches today—they should go along with the breakfast cookies perfectly.”

  “Set a couple aside for me, will you?” she asked. “I’ve got to put the last batch of cookies in, then I’m going to go start opening. We’ve been getting more business than ever for breakfast. People seem to really like these cookies.”

  “Everyone loves them,” he said. “David bought half a dozen the other day. He said he was going to save them for lunch, but I’m pretty sure none of them even made it back to the office with him.”

  “When did David stop in?” she asked, surprised. He frequently stopped in at the deli, but always while she was there, and this week he had been too busy even for that.

  “Oh, the other morning. I don’t remember what day it was, but it was one of the days that you had the evening shift.” He changed the subject with a somewhat flustered look on his face. “Anyway, Demi Goodwell said she wants some of the peanut butter banana ones for dessert when we cater her daughter’s sweet sixteen party. I haven’t marked it on the order form yet… I should probably go do that now.”

  Moira watched suspiciously as the young man hurried awkwardly out of the kitchen to grab the order form from under the register. Was he acting oddly, or was it all in her head? Frowning, she turned to check the time. It was later than she thought, and all thoughts of Dante were wiped out of her mind as she hurried to get the second batch of cookies in the oven before hungry customers started arriving.

  She didn’t think of Dante’s awkward behavior again until Allison arrived shortly before the morning shift ended. The girl took one look at Moira and broke out in giggles.

  “What?” she asked. “Do I have something on my face?” She had just guiltily eaten her third breakfast cookie—they had leftovers, what was she supposed to do… let them go to waste?—and was feeling self-conscious about it.

  Allison shook her head, still grinning. “No, you look great, Ms. D.” The young woman exchanged a glance with Dante and her grin widened. Moira stared after her, flabbergasted, until she disappeared through the kitchen door to drop her purse off and pick up her name tag.

  “What’s gotten into you two?” she asked Dante. Before he could say anything, she put her hand up, signaling him to wait. Someone was walking by on the sidewalk outside the deli, a woman that she recognized as the director of Misty Pines. If she wanted to do any digging on Beatrice’s death on her own, this was her chance.

  “Excuse me,” she said, hurrying outside. “Um, Mrs. Radisson?”

  “Huh? Oh, Moira. Do call me Alberta, dear.” The woman turned to face her, smiling. “What can I do for you? I just dropped my car off at EZ Wheels down the road, so I’ve got some time to kill.”

  “Well in that case, come on in and have a breakfast cookie and a cup of coffee on me,” the deli owner said. She lowered her voice, adding, “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about… about Beatrice.”

  The other woman nodded, her expression serious. “Ah, Reggie’s gotten to you, has he? Well, I’m happy to come in and take you up on that offer.”

  Alberta followed her inside, nodding as she looked around at the deli. She perched on a seat at a bistro table in the corner, and thanked Moira when she brought out a tray with two coffees and some of the maple pecan breakfast cookies on it.

  “But don’t you want one too?” she asked as she picked up a cookie.

  The deli owner gave her a sheepish grin. “I’ve been eating them all morning,” she admitted.

  “They must be good,” the other woman said with a chuckle. “I’ve been meaning to thank you personally for catering that event at Misty Pines a couple of months ago. The food was absolutely delicious. If you ever want a different job, I’d be happy to send our current chef packing.”

  “While it’s tempting, my heart’s with the deli,” Moira said, smiling. “Thank you, though. I love hearing compliments like that.”

  “What was it you wanted to talk about?” the other woman asked. She took a bite of the breakfast cookie and added, “This is really good, by the way.”

  “It’s a new flavor. I’m glad you like it.” The deli owner took a sip of her own coffee, trying to decide how to broach the subject of Reggie and Beatrice. She decided to start with the phone call that she had gotten from the elderly man in the middle of the night, and go from there.

  “I’m not sure what I think about all of this,” she finished. “I didn’t think there was anything to it at first, but after speaking to Danny… well, he doesn’t seem a model son, exactly.”

  Alberta, who was on her second cookie, nodded. “He definitely wasn’t. He had a very strained relationship with his mother—something about money, I think. He had a better relationship with his aunt, but I have the suspicion that she regularly loaned him large amounts of cash.”

  “Wow,” the deli owner said, shaking her head. “He sounds like a real winner. Do you think he actually could have done it?”

  “It’s a possibility,” the director said. “Thank you for telling me all of this. I knew about Reggie’s concerns, but I didn’t know the full story. I’ll do what I can to reopen the investigation into Beatrice’s death, but it might be hard since Danny has her power of attorney; without any evidence, I might have a hard time getting him to sign the morgue release. If he did kill her for her money, he’s in for a nasty surprise, though. Beatrice made a new will shortly before she passed, and I can tell you that her son wasn’t in it.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  For the next few days, Moira mulled over what Alberta had told her. The more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed that Beatrice’s death wasn’t from natural causes after all. What if Danny had heard that his mother had removed him from the will? He might have been so angry that he had decided to end her life then and there. It was a chilling thought, but it made a horrible sort of sense.

  David, when she told him, didn’t say much. Danny had never been in trouble with the law, as far as his background check said, anyway. He had one eviction under his belt, and had had credit collectors sent after him twice.

  “I’m still not convinced,” her told Moira over the phone Tuesday evening. “I know he looks guilty, but the fact is, her death was determined to be from natural causes. Wasn’t her funeral today? She’s probably long since been cremated, as I highly doubt that Danny would have made it easy for any sort of autopsy to be done. The police aren’t going to listen to you without some sort of real evidence—can you imagine the chaos if they arrested someone whenever a rich old person with a bad relationship with their children died? They would never be able to get anything done at Misty Pines, because it would always be crawling with police.”

  “Well, how do I get evidence?” the deli owner asked, annoyed. “They’ve already cleaned out her room and given it to someone else, and I doubt Danny will let me search his house for a possible murder weapon. I don’t want him to just get away with this, David. If he killed her, he deserves to spend a very long time in jail. The woman raised him, for goodness sake.”

  “I guess I could do some digging and see if I can find out who Beatrice put in her will if it wasn’t him,” he said. “They might be able to at least shed more light on Danny’s relationship with his mother.”

  “All right… thanks, David. I know this is takin
g up a lot of your time, and I appreciate it. Are you sure you can’t make lunch tomorrow? Candice and Eli are both coming.”

  “Sorry, but I’m going to be in Traverse City. One of my clients thinks her husband is cheating on her, and he’s leaving for a ‘business trip’ tonight. I’ve got to keep an eye on him.”

  “Oh, let me know what happens. I hope he’s innocent.”

  “I don’t,” David said, surprising her.

  “What?”

  “His wife’s going to divorce him either way, she just thinks it will look better for her if he’s an adulterer. For his sake, it will be better if he’s not the loving husband that he appears to be. Otherwise, he’s going to be crushed.”

  “She sounds like a terrible woman,” Moira said. “You work with the strangest people.”

  “I know.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “It’s how I met you, remember?”

  Even though David wouldn’t be coming to her lunch on Wednesday, it didn’t stop her from going all out. It had been a while since she had cooked a big, multi-course meal, and she was looking forward to it. In the morning, she went shopping, buying mostly fresh ingredients, and also picking up a couple of soup bones for the dogs. At home she tossed the marrow-filled bones out onto the back porch and let the dogs outside, knowing that they would be kept happily busy for the next few hours.

  Her kitchen was a lot smaller than the deli’s kitchen, but still had everything that she needed to make a three-course meal. She began with the fish: thick swordfish steaks that she seasoned with garlic and lemon pepper. After covering the glass dish with plastic wrap, she set the fish in the fridge to keep it fresh until she was ready to put it in the oven. The next part of the meal was creamy cauliflower soup, and she chopped up the white florets and put them in a pot of boiling water while she turned her attention to the salad.