A Murder of Consequence (A Darcy Sweet Cozy Mystery Book 15)

by K. J. Emrick

  “Well, that was before he was chief, actually.” Darcy felt uncomfortable remembering all of that. It had been a hard case, for everyone involved.

  Shai was quiet before leaning back in her chair. “Well, I guess bad people come from all walks of life. Look, Sarah, I don’t mind telling you what we know so far, but I’m telling you it’s not much. Hampton had your husband’s wallet. No real excuse for it, either. He just keeps saying he found it.”

  “Found it where?” Sarah demanded.

  “In the dumpsters behind Moonie’s Lunch.” She shook her head. “You know how he goes through the trash looking for food or whatever. I’ve tried to find him decent lodging and food vouchers through the County, but he won’t accept either. So, anyway, he looks for food in the dumpsters, and he’s saying that’s where he found Braden’s wallet. Now Braden is dead.”

  “Impossible,” Sarah said immediately. “There is no way that Braden’s wallet got from our house to that dumpster today. He didn’t even leave the house!”

  “How do you know?”

  It seemed like a reasonable question to Darcy, but she could see Sarah’s expression change. She was angry that she had to justify her answer.

  “I know he didn’t leave the house,” Sarah said, “because he was there when I went for my run, and he was there…dead…on the floor like that…when I got home.”

  Her voice broke with that last word, and Darcy put her hands on her shoulders, giving silent support.

  “That’s the funny thing, though,” Shai said, not letting Sarah’s emotional state affect her straightforward questions. “He didn’t find it today. Old Hampton found it in that bin three days ago.”

  Darcy couldn’t help asking. “What? How is that possible?”

  “That’s what we need to find out. Although, it fits with what the people at Moonie’s Lunch are telling us. They say Hampton has been paying for his own meals for the past three days. See, our town kind of watches out for Hampton, even if most folks would like to see him gone. So, the restaurant gives him a plate of eggs every morning. For free. Except the last three days. He’s been buying bacon and sausage and even pancakes with his eggs for the last three days, and paying for everything with his own money.”

  “You mean my husband’s money,” Sarah pointed out.

  “Right. Your husband’s money.”

  Darcy remembered the sergeant saying that very same thing when they had arrested Hampton, about how she wondered where Hampton would have gotten money to pay for his meal.

  “So what about it, Sarah?” Shai continued, leaning forward on her desk. “Did Braden say he lost his wallet? Tell you it went missing? Anything like that?”

  “No,” Sarah answered in a small voice, apparently unsure of how to take this new information. All of the anger seeped out from her in a long breath and Darcy felt her slump in her seat.

  Three days? How was that possible? Darcy racked her brain to come up with an explanation. Sometimes men were so pigheaded and proud that they couldn’t admit when they’d done something stupid. Like losing a wallet. Still, it seems like Braden would have said something to Sarah about it by now.

  Wouldn’t he?

  “Sarah?” Shai pressed.

  Her friend startled, starting to stand up, then sitting back down, clearing her throat before she could speak. “I don’t think I like the tone of your questions, Shai.”

  “I’m just asking things I need to know for our investigation. You do want us to do everything to find out what happened to Braden, right?”

  Darcy caught the implication this time. “Wait a second, Sergeant. You aren’t trying to accuse Sarah of anything, are you?”

  Shai leaned back in her chair again, waving her hand dismissively. “I’m not accusing anyone of anything yet. Including Hampton McGillis. I don’t have an official cause of death yet. For now, I’m just gathering facts.”

  “Seems to me you’re asking all the wrong questions,” Darcy told her.

  Instead of being insulted, a smile slowly appeared on Shai’s face. “You’re welcome to tell me what the right questions are, Miss Sweet.”

  “You can call me Darcy, Sergeant.”

  “You can call me Shai, Darcy.”

  “Um. Okay, then. Besides money, was there anything else missing from the wallet? That might be a good place to start. If there were credit cards gone then you can certainly trace the transactions on them, right?”

  “Well, let me get a pad of paper and a pen out, and I’ll write that one down.”

  She made no move to get either. Just sat there, smiling at Darcy.

  Okay. So that’s how it was going to be. “Look, I’m not trying to step on anyone’s toes here. It just sounded to me like you were accusing my friend of hurting her husband.”

  Shai’s smile never slipped an inch. “No offense taken. Most people who don’t have any real police experience think they know more about it than they really do.”

  Darcy’s jaw clenched. This woman, police sergeant or not, was really starting to get on her bad side. “Whatever you think of me, Sergeant, it doesn’t change the facts. Braden is dead. I don’t think it was natural causes, do you?”

  After a moment of tapping her fingers against the armrest of her chair, Shai admitted, “No. I don’t. I believe he was murdered. I’m sorry to say it, Sarah. That knock he took to the back of the head might have been from his fall. Might have been from something else, too. I can’t be sure.”

  Putting her hands to her face, Sarah sobbed quietly.

  Shai sighed and softened her tone. “Look, right now we don’t know a whole lot. We’ve got questions. The same questions you seem to have. What we do know is that Braden is dead. His wallet turned up in the hands of the local…shall we say, homeless person. Nothing is adding up yet, so if it seems like I’m suspicious of everyone and everything, well that’s because I am. When I take your statement, Darcy, I’m going to ask you where you were this morning, right up until the time you say you got into town. It’s the way I do things. The Coroner took Braden to the hospital over in Oak Hollow so she could determine the cause of death for us. Once we get word from—”

  The phone on her desk rang, an old-fashioned heavy thing with a long corded handset and more buttons than anyone could ever need on any phone. The display listed a name and a number, and Shai read them quickly before reaching to answer the call.

  “Speak of the devil,” she said. “This is the Coroner calling now.”

  Sarah grabbed at Darcy’s hand, pulling her down closer to whisper. “I can’t be here for this, Darcy. I thought I could, but I can’t. Please, please, let’s just go. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to be here!”

  “It’s okay, I’m here with you.” Darcy tried to calm her friend, wondering why Sarah was suddenly so agitated and wanted to leave so badly. This phone call should answer some of their questions. “I won’t leave you.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise. I’m here for you. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  Sergeant Shai Larson looked over at them at that exact moment, an odd expression on her face. “I understand,” she said into the phone. “Thank you for letting me know. Get back to us when you have the rest of it, please.”

  Then she hung up, and sat there in silence.

  “Well?” Darcy prompted.

  Sarah gripped her hands tighter. There were tears in her eyes again.

  “That was the Coroner,” Shai repeated unnecessarily. “Braden was poisoned. That was the cause of death.”

  Chapter Five

  There was no way Sarah had killed her husband. Darcy knew that. Now it was beginning to look like she might have to help prove it.

  Darcy had given her statement, all four pages of it, and Shai Larson was just as thorough as she had promised to be. Maybe it was because she had been in Jon’s life for so long now, but she could see how every question had focused on Sarah. How long Darcy had known her, when they spoke last, if they spoke today, and so on and o
n.

  It was more difficult to explain their friendship than Darcy had thought it would be. Yes, she’d known Sarah for a while. Well, no, they hadn’t seen each other in years. Oh yes, they knew all about each other’s lives. From phonecalls. And a few letters. E-mails too, don’t forget the e-mails.

  Through it all, Shai had watched her with a totally unreadable expression.

  Even though she didn’t want to do it, Darcy had to wonder if she was being naïve to defend Sarah so strongly. They didn’t know each other that well when she got right down to it. People change. Was it possible that Sarah…maybe…really could be her husband’s killer?

  No. She refused to believe it. She knew her friend and she knew what she’d seen in that vision. Maybe she couldn’t prove it to Shai Larson in a four page statement, but she knew another way to prove it.

  At least to herself.

  After more than two hours, they stood with Shai Larson in the hallway outside of the Birkenfalls Police department’s one and only interview room. Inside, Hampton McGillis sat, hulking even in a chair, his wrists locked inside of the handcuffs held by a chain to the floor under the wooden table that was set in the middle of the room. Terry Taft sat on the other side, talking with his hands, trying to get Hampton to talk at all.

  Terry Taft, the officer who had seemed maybe a little too interested in Sarah back when they first got here.

  “Should he be the one doing this interview?” Darcy asked.

  Shai shrugged off Darcy’s question. “Terry? Sure. We’re not a big department here, Miss Sweet. Not a lot of us to call on. Terry’s been to school for interview techniques. He’s the most qualified to do this and considering we’re maybe looking at a murder here…” She didn’t quite look at Sarah, but the implication hung heavy in the air. “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason,” Darcy said, trying to cover her suspicion as innocent curiosity. “I just thought you’d be in there as the ranking officer.”

  “I was doing your interview, remember? I’ll join Terry in a minute. Sometimes I like to watch and see what I can learn by listening.”

  “And what have you learned so far, Sergeant?” Sarah asked, not even trying to conceal her annoyance at being treated like a suspect.

  “Well, for one, I don’t think Hampton is smart enough to poison anyone. Or patient enough, either. He’s like that big green guy in the Avengers. You know the one I mean? All anger and smashing things. He doesn’t exactly do subtle.”

  “Yes,” Darcy said, nudging Sarah with her elbow. “We, uh, saw that this morning in the restaurant.”

  Sarah needed to keep quiet for now, and Darcy really wished her friend would take the dozen or so not-so-subtle hints she’d dropped so far. Not antagonizing Shai Larson was probably the best course of action for now. Sarah was already under suspicion. There was no reason to make things worse.

  In the room, Hampton slammed his fists down on the table, and even out here behind the one-way glass Darcy was sure she heard the wood crack. Shai cleared her throat and shook her head. “I guess I’d better get in there.”

  Still, she stopped at the door with her hand on the knob, turning back to Sarah. “You aren’t under arrest. Do me a favor and stay in town, all right? I have a feeling I’m going to think of some more questions real soon.”

  She shut the door quietly behind her. Sarah, thank God, waited until then to blow her top.

  “How dare she! My husband is dead and the high and mighty Shai Larson is going to accuse me of doing it? Seriously? She’s got the killer right in there! I’ll have her badge! I’ll go to the mayor himself and I’ll make sure she can’t get another job in this town that doesn’t involve a waitress uniform! I can not believe she…she…ungh, I can’t even think I’m so mad!”

  “Sarah, you need to calm down.” Darcy needed to do some investigating on her own if she was going to be of any help. That wasn’t going to happen here at the police station. “Let’s go back to your house. I want to try something.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, um, you’re just going to have to trust me. I’ll explain it, but not here. Okay?”

  Sarah crossed her arms and leaned against the wall angrily, like she intended to grow roots in this spot until someone believed her.

  “Listen,” Darcy said. “You called me for help. This is me, offering to help. I’m your friend. I won’t let them arrest you for this. We’ll figure out what really happened, but you’re going to have to trust me. Can you do that?”

  Taking a deep breath, Sarah closed her eyes and then slowly nodded. “I do trust you. It’s just I… Braden is dead. I can’t…I don’t know what to do anymore.”

  Darcy took her friend by the hand. “I’ll help you. I promise.”

  They had started down the hallway when the door to the interview room opened again and they heard Terry call after them. “Hey, Sarah! Hold on a second.”

  Sarah’s grip tightened on Darcy’s hand as she tensed. Darcy felt herself cringe a little, too. What now?

  Terry waited until he had caught up to them. Then, it was like he couldn’t remember what he had wanted to say. “Um. Hey. Look, I don’t like what’s happening here. I’m sorry, I mean. I know I’ve been kind of a pest about it—”

  “Kind of?” Sarah repeated, her voice harsh.

  “I know, I know. But I meant what I said. I’m here for you.”

  “Thank you. That’s nice. Now, we have to go.”

  “Can I still see you—”

  “Whatever. We have to go,” Sarah said, cutting him off again. Then she tugged on Darcy’s hand and started to leave again.

  “I’ll call you,” Terry said as they turned the corner.

  “What was that all about?” Darcy asked.

  “Nothing.” Sarah looked away, shaking her head like she was trying to decide what she should say. “He’s…well, he’s had a crush on me since high school. I thought it would go away but he just keeps sending me letters and calling me. To tell you the truth, it was getting to a point where Braden was going to make an official complaint. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

  A-ha, Darcy thought to herself. So she’d been right. Terry wore his feelings for Sarah on his sleeve. Did that have anything to do with Braden’s death? He was a police officer, after all. Would he be capable of killing a woman’s husband just because he was interested in her?

  She’d learned, in the past few years, that the murderer could be anyone. Even police officers who were supposed to be beyond suspicion.

  Terry Taft. Hampton McGillis. Two good suspects. Poison and secret crushes and dead husbands. How many more secrets were hiding in this little town?

  ***

  Ellen and Connor had waited in the car the whole time that Sarah and Darcy were at the police station. It was easy to see that Connor was getting bored. He kept shifting in his seat on the car ride back or humming or tapping his finger against the window. He wanted to be playing videogames or out running around in the snow or watching TV. Sure, there were serious things going on, but all this grownup stuff was over his head. Or, maybe he was just tuning it out because his own father had been killed and he didn’t want to relive the memories. Darcy couldn’t blame him, if that was the case.

  When they got back to Sarah’s house, Ellen stayed in the car. “I’ll take Connor out around the town,” she offered. “There must be a book store, at least.”

  “I think there is. I’m not sure where, though.” Darcy was grateful. She wanted to be alone with Sarah for what she was going to do. “Can you come back around supper time?”

  “Sure. I’ll ask around about the book store or anything else to do for fun here in Hicksville that doesn’t involve writing your name in the snow.”

  “Ew, mom,” Connor said from the backseat with a wide grin. “That’s gross.”

  “Good. You keep thinking that way. Tell Darcy we’ll see her later. If we’re lucky we can find a pizza place for dinner.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said w
ith a lot of emphasis. “Pepperoni and mushrooms!”

  “On yours, maybe.” Ellen rolled her eyes, then turned back to Darcy. “Take your time with Sarah. We’ll be back later.”

  “Thanks, Ellen. I’m sorry this had to happen.”

  “Hey, so am I. But Sarah’s lucky to have a friend like you here with her. You’ll figure this out. I know you will.”

  Darcy shivered in the cold, watching them drive away. She hoped, for Sarah’s sake, that Ellen was right. Her sixth sense and her paranormal abilities had always pointed her in the right direction before when she needed to figure something out. Hopefully they would do the same now. All she had to do was listen to them.

  It was time to start doing exactly that.

  Back inside the house, Darcy found Sarah in the kitchen, pouring water from the sink into a teakettle. The aroma of tea filled the room. On the little round dining table, a tin box sat open, with several different paper-wrapped tea bags sitting inside.

  “I hope you like tea?” Sarah asked. “Wait, that’s a stupid question. We had tea earlier. I’m sorry, I’m just so shook up. I don’t have any coffee. Braden never…um. He didn’t ever drink coffee. We don’t have any in the house. I have to get used to saying things in the past tense now, don’t I?”

  Darcy sat down and looked through the different kinds of tea, only sort of paying attention to each one. Oolong. Earl Gray. Sleepytime Lemon Twist. A couple of gray packets that smelled faintly of cinnamon. “I’ve told you that I lost my husband, right?” she asked Sarah. “Well, my ex-husband at the time, I guess. Jeff. He was murdered.”

  “Just like my Braden.” Sarah set the teakettle down on the stove and then stood there with her back to Darcy. “Who knew we’d grow up to be so alike? We were just kids back then. I can’t believe how much you’ve changed.”

  “You, too. Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

  They shared a smile, until Sarah’s slipped away. “Did you ever find out who killed Jeff?”

  “Yes, I did. It was hard on everyone when I did.” She frowned at the memory of it. “But I needed to know who had killed him. I wasn’t going to stop until I knew. Just like you need to know what happened to Braden.”