Creamy Casserole Murder: Book 15 in The Darling Deli Series (7 page)

“Reggie,” Candice said suddenly. “You have to stop telling people that you think Beatrice was killed. If whoever did it is trying to cover their tracks, then you might be in trouble too.”

“I’m not keeping quiet about this, young lady,” Reginald said firmly. “I can’t just turn my head and ignore the fact that two women—one of them a close friend—have been murdered inside these walls.”

“I know it’s hard,” David said. “But she’s right. We don’t want to see you get hurt, Reggie.”

“Who else is going to find the killer?” he grumbled. “None of you believes me.”

“We do now,” Moira said with a glance at the private investigator. “And we should have before. I’m sorry that we didn’t. Just be careful, please? We’ll keep poking around, but it might be dangerous for you to do so.”

He nodded reluctantly. She wondered if they could trust him to keep to himself, but knew they didn’t really have a choice.
If only I had believed him in the first place, this may not have happened,
she thought guiltily.
I could have gone to the police right away, and somehow have convinced them to do a full autopsy on Beatrice. They might have found something in time to save her sister, and could have caught the killer without putting Reggie in danger like this.

“I really am sorry,” she told him in a softer voice. “I should have trusted you, Reggie. I’ll do my best to make up for it.”

“What do we do now?” Eli wondered. “Call the police and have them bring Danny in?”

“There still isn’t any evidence that he’s guilty,” David pointed out.

“They might find something when they do an autopsy,” Candice said.

“Will they even do an autopsy?” the deli owner asked. “Don’t they only do that if they suspect something suspicious about the death?”

“There’s a few reasons why they would want to do an autopsy, but it’s likely that this death wouldn’t need one,” the private investigator said. “She was elderly, and if she had any sort of dangerous medical condition, her physician will probably just sign off on her death… as long as there were no signs of a struggle, of course. They might do an autopsy if a family member requested it, but if Danny is really her only living family member… well, that isn’t likely.”

“Do you think he killed his aunt, too?” she asked. “He did say he liked her.”

“And Mrs. Radisson told you that she thought his aunt had given him a lot of money, didn’t she? Maybe he didn’t actually like her, he just hung around for the money.”

“And if she knew that he killed his mother,” Moira said, suddenly seeing the big picture, “Then she would have cut him off from the money and probably threatened to call the police on him.”

They fell silent as they connected the dots. It was chilling to think that someone could have killed two of his family members just for money.

“What now?” Candice asked at last. “How can we get the police to believe us?”

“I don’t know,” David admitted. “If I can get them to see how suspicious the connection between the two deaths is, then they might be able to perform an autopsy even if Danny objects. I’ll go and talk to Detective Jefferson after this. I want the rest of you to keep your heads down and your eyes open. Danny has already killed two people, let’s not let him kill any more.”

Moira felt guilty for not believing Reggie at first. At least now she and David were both confident that he had been right about the murder, but it had taken a second death to convince them. How could she make it up to him?
Food
, she thought.
He must be just as sick of the nursing home food as all of the other residents are. I could have him over for dinner—I just need to get a list of what he can and can’t have.

The list was the easy part. All she had to do was phone Misty Pines, and one of the nurses emailed it to her. Figuring out what to make was harder. His diet wasn’t as limited as some of the residents’, but he couldn’t have much sodium, fat, or anything hard to chew. She decided to fall back on what she was most comfortable making: soup.

She ended up making a delicious low-sodium cabbage and beef soup with a side of mashed potatoes and broccoli florets. Everything was on his list of safe foods, but it was all much more flavorful than the food normally was at the retirement home. Reggie, when she had called to invite him, had been thrilled; not just at the chance to eat normal food, but also to get out of the assisted-living home entirely.

“I know it’s a nice place,” he told her. “And I’m grateful to Eli for putting me here instead of a cheaper place, but when you get down to it, it’s just a comfy jail.”

Moira didn’t tell him, but she secretly agreed. She knew that the locked doors were there to keep the residents safe, since some of them had psychological issues that made them a danger to themselves, but it still didn’t seem right that none of the residents were allowed to leave unless they were checked out by a friend or family member.
By the time I need to go to a home, I probably won’t care
, she told herself.
I’ll probably enjoy the chance to put my feet up and relax while someone else does all of the cleaning, shopping, and cooking.

Moira put the dogs in the mudroom behind a baby gate before Reggie got there. She knew they wouldn’t purposely hurt him, but they were so big that they could easily push him over. He walked with the aid of a cane, and from what she had seen, he wasn’t particularly steady on his feet.

Eli and Candice hadn’t been able to make it, but David had volunteered to come, and was even driving Reggie from the nursing home to her house and back again. She had protested at first, not wanting him to go out of his way for something that was her idea, but he had insisted.

“You’re making the whole dinner,” he told her. “You don’t need to be driving into town and back again too. I’ll handle it. Besides, it will give me a chance to pick his brain. Maybe he’ll be able to remember something else about Beatrice’s or Delilah’s deaths.”

In the days between their meeting at Misty Pines and the dinner, Reggie had met with Detective Jefferson to discuss their suspicions about the two deaths. Amazingly, the detective had listened and agreed to see what he could do about ordering an autopsy on Delilah’s body. It was a big step forward, and all three of them eagerly awaited news.

David and Reggie pulled up in the driveway shortly past five. Moira had the meal ready and waiting for them, and the table nicely set for Reggie’s apology dinner. She was still mentally kicking herself for not believing him sooner, but at least he didn’t seem upset with her.

“Thanks for coming,” she said as she opened the front door for them.

“A chance to get out of that place and eat some good food for once?” he said. “I wouldn’t have turned down this invitation even if Danny was the one that sent it.”

“Don’t say that,” she said with a shudder. “If he knows that you’re the reason the police are going to order an autopsy; you very well could be his next target.”

“Oh, I’m going to be fine,” he said with a casual wave of his hand. “Don’t tell any of them at Misty Pines, but I had someone bring me one of those rubber door stops. No one is getting into my room if I don’t want them to, even if they have a key.”

“That, um, seems dangerous,” she said, raising her eyes to meet David’s. He shrugged, looking amused.

“How’s it dangerous?” Reggie asked, seating himself in the chair that she pulled out for him. “I don’t want a killer coming into my room again. There’s nothing dangerous about that.”

“But what if you fall or have a stroke, and the nurses can’t get in in time to help you?” she asked.

“If it’s my time, it’s my time,” he said nonchalantly. “Now, this smells delicious. Let’s eat.”

I’m going to have to tell Eli about that doorstop
, she thought as she sat down across from him. David took the seat next to her and squeezed her hand before putting his napkin into his lap.

“This does look amazing, Moira,” he told her. “Have you served this soup at the deli before?”

“A couple of times last year,” she said. “I may bring it back again this winter.”

“Mmm, restaurant-quality food.” Reggie rubbed his hands together expectantly. “It’s been too long.”

“Well, dig in,” she told him. “It’s all healthy, so I don’t think I’ll get in trouble with any of your nurses. I’ve got dessert too, but you’ll have to wait to find out what that is.”

The dinner was a success. She doubted that it had been necessary to get Reggie to forgive her for not believing him—he seemed to have done that already—but it was nice to see him enjoy the meal so much. For a moment she was half-tempted to take up the director’s offer of working as the chef at Misty Pines. It would be nice to have this much appreciation for her cooking every day.
It’s not like my regular customers don’t appreciate it
, she told herself.
They’re just used to it.

About halfway through the meal, David got a call on his cellphone. He glanced down at it, then stood up.

“Sorry,” he said, “but I’ve got to take this.”

A moment later he returned, sliding the phone back into his pocket. “I’ve got news.”

“What?” said Moira and Reggie at almost exactly the same time.

“They got the autopsy report on Delilah back. Normally it takes longer, but they rushed it. Apparently Danny bought a one-way ticket to South America, and Detective Jefferson worried that he was getting ready to leave the country for good.” David paused. “I’m not really supposed to be telling you this. Can you both keep it mum?”

“Of course,” Moira said. Reggie nodded.

“According to the autopsy, Delilah suffocated. They think she was smothered by a pillow or a blanket—they found fibers in her lungs. Her death has officially been labeled a homicide.”

“That’s great,” Reggie said enthusiastically. Then he cleared his throat and added, “I don’t mean that she was killed, but that they’re finally investigating it.”

“I understand,” Moira told him. “It
is
good. Hopefully they can arrest Danny soon, before he gets on that plane.”

She felt relieved at the news. Her part in all of this was done. The police would handle it now, and if they moved quickly, then hopefully no one else would get killed.

“Dessert time,” she announced, feeling like a weight had been taken off her shoulders. “I hope you both like apple crumble.”

After they had each downed a couple of servings of warm apple crumble and low-fat ice cream, David left to drive Reggie back to Misty Pines. Moira started on the dishes, and was about halfway through when the private investigator returned.

“Dinner was nice,” he said, coming up behind her and kissing her on the cheek before reaching into the sink to help her wash the remaining dishes. “I think it meant a lot to Reggie.”

“Thanks for driving him,” she said. “I still feel bad that you had to go out of your way. You don’t even know him that well.”

“I know him about as well as you do,” he pointed out. “He seems like a good guy. He has interesting stories to tell—he’s lived quite the life.”

She had spent so much time doing everything alone that it felt odd, but nice, having a partner to hand bowls to for drying.
I want this
all
the time
, she thought as their arms brushed.

After the dining room table was cleared and the kitchen was cleaned up, they went out back with the dogs. The only seating Moira had on the back porch was a single rocking chair, so they leaned against the railing together instead of sitting as they watched the dogs play in the yard

“Do you think they’ll arrest Danny before he flees?” she asked him.

“Honestly? I don’t know.” He paused, then added, “I’m less concerned with him being caught than him not hurting anyone else. I’d rather him escape with all of his aunt’s money and live out the rest of his life on some beach in Argentina than have him get caught after attacking someone else.”

She knew he was concerned about Reggie. The old man had been so vocal about the murders that he was the obvious next target if Danny was hanging around.

“If Danny knows that the police are investigating his mother’s and aunt’s deaths, then he might not take the chance of killing someone else,” she said. “It would just give the police more to work with.”

“I hope you’re right.” He ran his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes. “I wish he hadn’t called you.”

“Why?” she asked, surprised. “If it wasn’t for him, then Delilah’s death might never have been exposed as a murder.”

“That’s true,” he said. “But I hate that you’re involved. I wanted to keep you safe after you came back… but it looks like I failed miserably.”

“I’m perfectly safe,” she said. “No one has made any threats against me. I’ve hardly even talked to anyone from the nursing home. I don’t think I even said anything to Danny that would make him think I suspect him to be the killer.”

“Still, you’re connected to Reggie.” David shook his head. “I’m sorry, I just worry about you. I swear, I have twice the number of grey hairs now than before I met you.”

“You don’t need to worry so much,” she said, reaching over and taking his hand. “I know a lot of crazy stuff has happened, but I’m fine.”