Grilled Cheese Murder: Book 4 in The Darling Deli Series

by Patti Benning

“Did he ever tell you anything about where he came from, or his family or anything?” Moira asked, trying to leave the subject of Dante’s innocence or guilt. Either way, what was important right then was finding him.

  “I don’t think so…” her daughter trailed off, biting her lower lip as she thought back. “I asked him once why he moved to Maple Creek, and he just said because he liked the town, and he didn’t really have anywhere else to go. I didn’t pry.”

  “I never pushed him for answers either, but now I wish I did.” She sighed. “Apparently the police don’t even have any information about where he’s from or where his family is. Did you ever meet any of his friends?”

  “Besides me and Darrin, he never really seemed to hang out with anybody,” her daughter said. “He seemed pretty used to just doing his own thing.”

  “The poor young man.” Moira frowned. “It must be terrible not to have anyone to rely on.”

  “He relied on you,” Candice pointed out. “You told me that the police said that he put you as his emergency contact in his cell phone. He must have known that you would do what it took to help him if he was ever in an accident or something. Maybe he’ll come to you if he needs help.”

  “I hope so. As long as he isn’t a danger to you—or me—then I’d be happy to help him however I can. Will you let me know if you hear from him?” she asked her daughter.

  “Of course,” the young woman agreed. “Are you going to tell Darrin what’s going on?”

  “I think I need to,” she replied after thinking about it for a moment. “He and Dante are pretty close, and he should know that his friend’s in trouble. Plus, word gets around this town quickly and I think it’s better if he hears it from us than from the news.” She closed her eyes, her hands cupped around the warm mug. She was beginning to feel tired, and it was looking like she would have a lot to do tomorrow.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Darrin came in early to work while she was dicing onions for the creamy spinach and orzo soup that would be the soup of the day. She took a moment to dump the onions in the pot, and then turned to greet him.

  “Thanks for coming in so early,” she said. “You might want to take a seat, there’s something I need to tell you…”

  His reaction, once he got past the initial shock, was similar to Candice’s, though he sided with Moira when it came to the subject of whether or not he thought Dante had murdered the young man who looked so like him.

  “He just doesn’t seem the type,” he said. “I mean, obviously, anyone can be the type, but Dante… is so easygoing. Why would he want to kill someone? It just doesn’t seem like something he’d do.”

  “I’m glad you at least agree with me,” Moira said. “I just wish Candice and David did also. When’s the last time you heard from him?”

  “A couple of days ago, when he called the deli to double-check his schedule for the week,” her employee told her. “He sounded totally normal, and we made plans to hang out this weekend.”

  “Will you let me know if you hear from him again?” she asked. “I don’t even know if he’s still around, but if he is he might try to find one of us. Candice thinks we’re pretty much the only people he knows in town.”

  “Yeah, no problem. I hope he turns up and everything ends up being fine. I like the guy.”

  “Me too,” Moira said. “I just wish I felt like I could trust my judgment.”

  * * *

  She was relieved when none of her customers mentioned anything about Dante. It seemed that the news of his mysterious disappearance hadn’t yet been spread beyond the police station. She didn’t know how many more crimes her little deli could be associated with and still stay in business.

  While she served soup, made sandwiches, and rang up orders, she kept a careful eye on the street outside. She realized that she was half expecting to see Dante’s car drive by. She didn’t know what she’d do if she did see it. Run outside and chase it down? It ended up not mattering; she didn’t so much as glimpse a car of the same make of his.

  David came in shortly before the dinner rush. He had his leather bag with him, and waited until the deli was empty to set it on the glass counter and pull out a manila folder.

  “I found some interesting stuff about our missing friend,” he told her. “Remember how I told you I was going to run a background check on him a couple of months ago?” he asked. She nodded. “Well, the basic check didn’t really turn much up. And by that, I mean there just wasn’t much on it. At all. No employment history, no nothing. So I had my guy dig a little deeper, and then forgot to check up on his progress once things started to get chaotic again.” He handed her the folder. “Go ahead and take a look. Let me know if anything jogs your memory.”

  Feeling a bit guilty at the thought of reading secrets that Dante wouldn’t have wanted her to know, Moira took a seat on the stool behind the register and began reading. The files mentioned a town that Dante had never mentioned, but the picture that was attached was definitely his. There were records of the high school that he had graduated from, and the phone number of a diner that he had worked for. Moira frowned and handed the folder back to David.

  “He never talked about any of that,” she told David. “How did you find all of this?”

  “My guy did a search using his first name and date of birth. What’s really odd is that he had a different last name up until about a year ago,” he told her. “I’m still looking into it. It’s like one day he changed his name, got a different social security number, packed his bags, and left his hometown.”

  “Do you think he’ll go back there?” she asked. “If that’s where his family is, maybe he’s going to them for help.”

  “He lived in a foster home, actually,” he said. “From age ten onward. I still haven’t found anything out about his birth parents.”

  “This keeps getting stranger and stranger.” She tapped her fingers on the counter, thinking. “It’s like he was running from something.”

  “And whatever he was running from caught up with him,” said David in a grim voice.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  David stayed at the deli, helping out for the last few hours before close. Moira was glad to find that they could work side by side without awkwardness, despite the fact that they had gone on a date and had yet to really talk about any feelings that they had for each other. She sent Darrin home early, with strict instructions to keep an eye out for his missing friend.

  “So,” she said to David once Darrin had cleared out. “Where should we start looking?”

  “We aren’t,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s too dangerous. He may have killed someone, and even if he didn’t, there is someone else out there who did, and who is also likely going to be looking for him.”

  “That’s all the more reason why we need to find him first,” she pointed out. “To offer him help before whatever he’s running from catches up to him.”

  “You shouldn’t get yourself involved with this any more than you already are,” he told her. Then he added quietly, “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “I can’t just stand around and do nothing when I know that someone I care about is in danger,” she said. She was touched by his concern, but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if Dante got hurt and she didn’t do everything she could to try to help him. David sighed.

  “Fine, but I’m coming with you. I don’t want you out there looking for him alone.”

  “It’s a deal,” she said with a grin. “That brings me back to my earlier question—where should we start looking for him?”

  “Probably at his apartment,” he said. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to get into his actual unit, but we can look around and ask people if they remember seeing anything out of the usual. If they have video cameras, I may be able to talk one of the security guys into letting us see the tape. You might recognize someone. It seems like half the town comes through the deli on a daily basis.”

  * * *

&nbs
p; She was tempted to close early so that they could go investigate sooner, but she couldn’t really justify it, not with the steady stream of customers that had been coming in all day. It wasn’t until the ladle for the spinach orzo soup was coming up dry that she finally called it a day. Her stomach gave a hungry growl as she began rinsing out the pot. It was a pity that all the soup was gone—the rich, creamy flavor would have served well to warm her and David against the chilly night.

  “Ready?” he asked when she came out of the kitchen.

  “Yes,” she responded. “Let’s go.”

  “You checked the side door?” he asked, giving her a quick grin to show that he was half joking. Recently, someone had fixed the side door that they usually used for deliveries so that it couldn’t latch shut, and had used it to sneak in without her knowledge. She had been terrified when she had discovered it, but thanks to David she now had surveillance in the deli in the form of a video camera and a motion detector. She had also added double-checking the door into her daily closing routine.

  “You know it,” she replied, surprised to find herself in such a good mood even though it had been such a grim twenty-four hours. She supposed that David just had the effect of making her feel safe. There was no one she would rather be spending the evening with.

  “We can take my car. The roads are still icy, and it handles better in this sort of weather than yours does.” He held the door for her on the way out, and then waited while she locked the deli up. If only Dante weren’t missing and in trouble, the moment would have been perfect. She realized just how nice it was to have someone to spend time with. She had been far too solitary over the last few years.

  CHAPTER NINE

  It was twilight by the time they reached Dante’s apartment complex. Another quick sweep of the parking lot showed them that his car still wasn’t there, so they parked in front of his building and got out. If she remembered correctly, his apartment was on the second floor.

  “So, should we just go up?” she asked David. “Or should we go to the office or something first?”

  “Let’s just see what we can see for now,” he suggested. “I doubt management would be much help at this point. Maybe we can stop in on our way out of here, if they’re still open.”

  As they approached the building, Moira kept her eyes peeled for signs of anything out of place. She didn’t see any security cameras, which was disappointing, though she knew that realistically she and David probably wouldn’t have noticed anything that the police hadn’t. The hallways of the apartment building smelled of stale cigarette smoke and some sort of industrial lemon-scented cleaner. The murmur of voices, possibly from a TV, came from behind one of the doors on the ground floor. The carpeting had stains on it, and one of the mailboxes was missing a door. She shuddered at the thought of Dante living in such a place. He was such a smart, hard-working young man. What must he have been running from to end up in a place like this?

  Once they made their way up to the second floor, his apartment wasn’t hard to find, as there was still torn crime scene tape across the door. It didn’t take her long to see that there was nothing in the hallway that would be of any help to them.

  “What now?” she asked, feeling oddly let down. What had she been expecting? To find Dante himself waiting for them?

  “We could try talking to the neighbors if you want,” David said. “Just keep in mind that they don’t have to tell us anything.”

  “I think it’s worth a shot.” Before she lost her courage, she walked over and knocked on the door across the hall from Dante’s. An older man with a yappy little dog in his arms answered. He gave the pair of them a questioning look.

  “Hi,” Moira said. “I hope we’re not bothering you, but I’d love it if we could ask you a couple of questions about your neighbor, Dante.”

  “Who are you?” the man asked gruffly. “How do you know the kid?”

  “David Morris, PI,” David said, cutting in and flashing his identification to the man. “We’re just trying to find him, and find out what’s going on. This is Moira Darling, his employer.” The man eyed them warily for a moment, and then seemed to come to a decision.

  “All right, then,” he said. “My name’s Harrison. I’m the one that called the cops when I heard a gunshot. They didn’t believe me at first, not until I told them I’m ex-military and definitely know what a gun sounds like.” He snorted. “You’d think someone would come running when you say the word ‘gunshot.’ I guess that’s not how things work these days.”

  “Did you see anything after you heard the gunshot?” Moira asked him, darting a glance towards the peephole in his door.

  “No, the last tenant painted over the peephole,” he explained, following her glance. “And I’m not going to open my door and stick my head out into the hallway when someone’s shooting.”

  “Oh.” She sighed. She had hoped for a second that it would be as easy as getting a blow-by-blow description of the events from Harrison, but she supposed that that would have been too easy. If he had seen anything, he would have already told the police, and from what Detective Jefferson had told her, they had no idea what had happened.

  “How well did you know Dante?” David asked.

  “He’d say hi to me if we passed each other in the hallway, but that’s about it.” The old man shrugged. “There’s not much to say about him. He’s quiet, kept to himself. He never had parties or anything, never even had anyone over that I noticed.”

  “Did you hear anything besides a gunshot the evening that the young man was killed?”

  “No,” the man replied. Then he frowned. “Well, come to think of it, yes. I heard a few people talking or arguing a few minutes before, but they could have come from anyone on this floor. Someone slammed a door also.”

  “A few? So more than just two? Did you tell the police this?” Moira asked.

  “I didn’t think of it then. Someone had just been shot, and everything was so chaotic. And like I said, it could have been anyone. I’m pretty sure it was more than two people, but it’s hard to be certain. The walls may be thin, but they aren’t that thin.”

  “You should call the station,” the private detective told him. “Tell them what you remembered. Is there anything else? Any strange cars hanging around? Did anything unusual happen after the shooting?”

  “No, no, nothing,” Harrison said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

  “You’ve been plenty helpful,” Moira assured him. “Thanks for your time.” David reached into his pocket and took out a business card to hand to the old man.

  “If you remember anything else, I’d appreciate if you gave me a call… right after you let the police know, of course,” he told the man.

  “I will. And good luck finding him. He was a good neighbor.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  None of the other neighbors answered their knocks, so Moira and David were forced to call their impromptu search to a close. The management office was empty and dark when they passed it on their way out of the complex, though David assured her that they would probably be reluctant to talk about one of their tenants anyway. She tried not to feel disappointed, but she had hoped to find more than just a grumpy neighbor to talk to. Where could Dante possibly be? Was he even still alive? She had been going on the assumption that the fact that his car was gone meant that he had taken it and fled, but she could be wrong. Maybe whoever had shot the other young man had stolen Dante’s car too.

  David took her back to the deli, where she bade him goodnight and got into her own car. It was full dark by then, and the town was almost eerily still. It seemed hard to imagine that her young employee could be out there alone and scared—or worse. She wished that there was more that she could do to find him, but she couldn’t think of anything else that she could try. If he was still alive, he was on his own.

  * * *

  The next day, Friday, was supposed to be one of the rare days that neither Moira nor Candice worked at the de
li, but with Dante missing, she knew that she would have to go in. Instead of canceling their plans to go back into Lake Marion and continue the search for the perfect store location for her daughter, she decided to wake up early and walk around Lake Marion before the deli opened.

  “I know that you really like the toy store,” she told Candice as they navigated the slippery roads between Maple Creek and Lake Marion. “But David still hasn’t heard back from the owner, and he may end up not selling it. It would be great if you could find a place that you like almost as much in case the toy store falls through.”

  “I’ll look,” her daughter said doubtfully. “But it’s not a huge town, and only a few buildings are up for rent.” She sighed. “It’s just that location is so important when it comes to having a successful business, and that place is perfect.”

  Moira smiled to herself, mentally comparing the difference between how her daughter was now and how she had been only a few short years ago. Even as a teenager, Candice had been relatively responsible. She had only really gotten in trouble twice that Moira could remember, and even those two incidents paled in comparison to some of those that she had heard about her friends’ kids. Teenage Candice hadn’t paid much attention to the future, and rarely took the time to talk to her mother; traits that seemed to have completely reversed after her daughter had come back from college. She often wondered what her life would be like without the young woman sitting in the car, and found it hard to imagine. Her daughter brought so much light and joy into her life that it was hard to think what it would be like without her.

  “I’m sure you’ll end up finding the right place,” she reassured her daughter. “You’ve still got a while to look. Just take your time and don’t rush things. You’re welcome to stay at the house for as long as you want, you know.”

  “Oh man, that reminds me, I’ve got to find an apartment too. I don’t want to have to make this drive every day.” The young woman groaned. “There’s so much that I have to do.” Her mother chuckled.