A Darcy Sweet Mystery Box Set Seven

by K. J. Emrick

  He held his hand out, asking her to wait.

  Darcy really didn’t think this could wait.

  “Lana, tell me,” he said. “Tell me what happened to your family.”

  “Uhhhhh,” Lana moaned.

  Darcy fidgeted on the cot. “Jon, you need to see—”

  “Uhhhhh,” Lana muttered.

  “Tell me what happened,” Jon asked her again. “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

  “Jon.”

  “Uhhhhh.”

  “Tell me.”

  Darcy held the handbag out where Jon could see it this time. “Look at this!”

  He turned to her, and she could see he was about to tell her to wait, again, but then he stopped when he saw what she had been so frantically trying to show him.

  Inside the bag, nestled in with the other items, was a short metal bar with dark blood dried onto the metal. The blood had stained the inside of the bag and smeared several of the items inside.

  Lana saw it at the same time, and her eyes went wide.

  She jumped up from the cot. Her hands flew up to her chest, shaking violently, her fingers clenching and unclenching. She was about to run.

  Jon caught her wrists and held them tight as she began to struggle.

  “Lana Harris,” he told her, in his strong, deep voice. “You’re under arrest for murder.”

  Her whole body froze at those words. It was so sudden that Jon stumbled to keep his balance. Every eye in the room turned their way.

  Then Lana tossed her head back, and she screamed until she ran out of breath and passed out in Jon’s arms.

  Chapter 6

  “So much for not causing a spectacle.”

  All Jon could do was shrug at Darcy’s comment. They’d tried their best. Neither of them could have foreseen a reaction like that.

  They were sitting in his office at the police station, finally warm again, finally dry, with cups of very foul-tasting coffee in their hands. Darcy didn’t care what it tasted like. It was warming her insides just like the building’s antiquated baseboard heating system was warming her outside.

  The police department was decorated for the holidays like everywhere else in town, but in a minimalist style. There was a wreath hung on the front door. A string of Christmas lights circled the service window at the front. Here in Jon’s office, the only nod to the season was a very sad looking plastic Christmas tree maybe twelve inches high, on top of the filing cabinets. Charlie Brown had a better tree than that one.

  Jon had his feet kicked up on the desk. “Phin already said he forgave me, under the circumstances. I didn’t expect her to scream like that.”

  “She’s obviously upset. What do you think it means?”

  He blew out a heavy breath through his nostrils. “I’d like to say I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure that metal bar in her purse is the murder weapon. The way she reacted when she saw it… Some people might see that as a confession, of sorts. Especially if she isn’t willing to say otherwise.”

  “She’s scared, Jon. She’s overwrought.”

  “Sure. That’s one explanation. Another is that we found our murderer.”

  He looked tired, which made sense considering it was already close to midnight now and he’d been up early. It had taken them a little bit of time to get Lana Harris upstairs at the church, and more time to have one of Jon’s officers arrive with a snowmobile to transfer her to the station. Even more time for Jon and Darcy to catch up on their skis.

  When they had arrived at the police department, Lana had just barely woken up. She still wasn’t talkative. After half an hour of trying, Jon had Lana put in a holding cell, and told her to get some sleep. She curled up on the metal bench behind the bars and fell asleep almost immediately.

  “This doesn’t put us any closer to solving the mystery,” Darcy said, saying out loud what both of them were thinking.

  “No, it doesn’t. At this point I have to believe the prosecuting attorney is just going to have me process Lana on the murder charges, in the absence of any other evidence.”

  “Then I guess we’d better find some other evidence, right?”

  “Sure. Just like that.” He threw his hands in the air and let his feet drop back down to the floor. “Unless Lana Harris decides she wants to talk to us I won’t have any idea where to look for other evidence. Their car was stuck in the snow during a storm that kept everybody indoors. There wasn’t any other traffic because the roads were closed. No one was out walking their dogs. To tell you the truth I don’t know how Lana made it out of that car and out of that snowbank to Phin’s church. She must’ve dug her way out with her bare hands. No wonder she dropped her wallet.”

  “Hmm,” Darcy mused. “But you said there wasn’t anything wrong with the car? It didn’t hit anything in the road, didn’t break down?”

  “Nothing like that at all. We’ll have to send it to a garage to be checked out once we can actually get it off the road, but from what I saw there wasn’t any reason for them to be stopped there.” He leaned forward, drumming his fingers thoughtfully on the desktop. “Maybe they ran into the snow. Maybe it’s just that simple. Brian Harris was stupid enough to keep going in that storm and plowed right into a snowbank and the car got stuck. Clog the tailpipe with anything, even snow, and the car stops running.”

  “Okay, but then… what?” Darcy asked. “They just sat there in the car, the three of them, until Lana killed her husband and her son?”

  “Maybe.” Jon certainly didn’t sound convinced by his own argument.

  Neither was Darcy. “Why? I mean, what’s her motive?”

  “That’s just one more question I can’t answer unless she starts talking. Maybe she has a severe case of claustrophobia. I don’t know. Maybe the husband said something stupid like husbands will sometimes.”

  “Not my husband,” Darcy told him sincerely. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d argued with each other. Not seriously. Maybe the issue of Colby getting a cellphone would break their streak once they finally found time to discuss it. Maybe, maybe not. They always seemed to work things out.

  “You and me are a special case,” Jon told her in response to her unspoken thoughts. “All of our friends think we’re freaks the way we love each other.”

  They shared a smile for a moment. Even in the middle of a murder mystery, they couldn’t help loving each other. Once, a long time ago, they had broken up and it had nearly crushed her. That was before they got married though, and before they started this wonderful life they had together. Now they were stronger than ever. Darcy Sweet and Jon Tinker. A love story for the ages.

  “So,” Jon said, drumming his fingers again. “Just the three of them stuck out there in the car. Snow all around. Snow up to the windows. Snow up to the roof. The car can’t go anywhere. Somehow, the father and the son end up dead. I tell you what, if Lana didn’t do this then we’re looking for someone who can walk on snow like some kind of Christmas miracle.”

  “Or someone who had a snowmobile,” Darcy suggested, “like you and your officers.”

  That idea made Jon frown. “Or someone with snowshoes like Pastor Phin.”

  “Right. Or skis, like me and Izzy.”

  “Well, sure, but I think you’re asking a lot to suggest someone skied out there just to kill two people and let one escape. That’s the sort of farfetched plot you get in one of those murder mystery movies on TV.”

  “I think we’ve seen stranger things than that over the years.”

  “That’s true. We have.”

  “I mean, maybe the killer was out skiing, no intention of killing anyone, but then he finds the Harris family in their car and something happens. He kills two of them, and skis away again. The falling snow covers up his tracks, and bam. It’s like he was never there.”

  “Someone was there. Someone killed those two. Lana needs to tell us what happened. Either that, or we need to find another witness.”

  Something about that snagged at Darcy’s memory. She cou
ldn’t remember what, but the thought of someone on skis, finding the car in the snow, killing Mister Harris and then the son Joel, reminded her of something she’d seen not too long ago.

  She blinked and tried to concentrate. “So, if I understand you right,” she said to her husband, “the next thing we need to do is figure out why the Harris family was here in Misty Hollow. Either Lana’s the killer, or not. If she is, her motive might be tied up in why they came here. If she isn’t, then someone else killed her family and again, their motive might involve why they came to town. Is that what you’re saying?”

  He nodded. “Exactly. If we can find out who they were here to see, that person might be able to give us some information we’re missing. I’ve already had Grace call each of the Harris families in town. None of them were related to Brian Harris, or Lana or Joel either. So they weren’t coming in to town to visit relatives for Christmas. Friends, maybe.”

  Darcy sighed. It was just so frustrating. Until Lana started talking again, they wouldn’t have any way to find out who she and her family were coming to see. Unless…

  “Jon, did you look in the trunk of their car?”

  “The Harris’s car? Sure. Of course we looked in the trunk. There was just luggage back there. Clothes, toiletry items, and then a separate bag full of wrapped Christmas gifts.”

  That was just what Darcy expected him to say. “Because, when you come to visit people for Christmas, you bring gifts with you. Right?”

  “Yeah. People think it’s rude when you don’t.”

  “Well, do you know what Christmas presents have on them?”

  “Pretty bows and lots of tape?”

  “Yes, and one other thing,” she reminded him. “They have gift tags. With names on them.”

  Jon blinked at that, thinking it through. Then he reached over and picked up the receiver from the phone on the desk. “Wilson? You’re still up at the front desk, right? Okay. Go to the evidence room and get a list of the names on the gift tags for those presents. Yes, the ones from the car. Yes. All of them. Bring it up to me when you’re done.”

  After a few more instructions he dropped the phone back in its cradle. “Well. That just might put us a step ahead in this case. I imagine the tags will only have a first name on them but if we put those names together, we’re sure to match them with a family in town.”

  “Yes. Between the two of us we know just about everyone in Misty Hollow.”

  Even the newcomers, she thought, and wondered why that came into her mind at that particular moment.

  Then she thought again about someone who was able to move around in the snowstorm, with skis…

  All the way down both ends of Main Street.

  Oh… that was… that couldn’t be right.

  But, maybe it was.

  She stood up, about to tell Jon that she had to go check on something. She wanted to be sure first.

  But when she opened her mouth all that came out was a loud yawn.

  It was the midnight hour, she reminded herself. Their kids were back home, tucked in bed while Izzy watched over them, and there was going to be lots of shoveling to do tomorrow now that the storm had let up for the time being. There was a lot of work to do.

  And a murder to solve.

  “I’m going home,” she told him. “I need a few hours in my bed. I would sleep a lot better with my husband next to me.”

  His smile was coy. “I’d like that, too. I’ve got some work to do here, but then I’ll be home. I’ll be sure to snuggle up close to you to get warm again after skiing home.”

  She definitely liked the sound of that. Coming around the desk, she gave him a long kiss. Something to tide him over until he slid that glorious body of his into the sheets next to her.

  “Have you heard from your mom yet?” he asked her, their lips still very close together.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Getting worried?”

  Actually, yes. She was.

  Darcy woke up early and wriggled her way out of Jon’s arms. She was hoping to take care of a few things. So far, it hadn’t worked out that way.

  Her mother’s phone went straight to voicemail. She didn’t have a number for James Bollinger, her stepfather, and now she saw how foolish she’d been not to get that when she’d had the chance. It had never occurred to her that she’d have any reason to call James rather than Eileen, her mother. They’d both been gone from Misty Hollow for years now and whenever Darcy needed to reach out to either of them, she had just always called her mom.

  But not now. Now, it was only four days until Christmas, and she needed to make sure her mother was still coming, or if the storm was going to keep her away. More than that, she needed to make sure her mother was all right. She was surprised at the disappointment she felt, thinking her mother might not make it here. When she was younger, she couldn’t stand her mother, and the feeling had been mutual. Since then they’d fixed their relationship, and Darcy actually looked forward to spending time with her mother again.

  Her mind slowly turned to other things as she skied down the snow-covered streets this morning. The murder of a father and his little boy pressed on her thoughts. She was going to see someone, and they might just be connected to those deaths. It was hard to think she might be right. It would be nice to just drop by a neighbor’s without having to suspect them of murder for a change.

  The streets were still buried under two feet of snow, and more than that in some places. It was getting exhausting just moving around. On the one hand, the world around her was beautiful. The world looked clean and fresh and sparkling in the early morning light. On the other hand, it had the makings of a natural disaster. What damage had the weight of the snow already caused, hidden under all those drifts? The town was going to be weeks recovering from this even after the snow was removed.

  The sky still wasn’t clear, but it was less dark and more gray this morning as the sun tried to peek through the clouds. She could hear runoff dripping everywhere as snow melted off the edges of roofs and from the trees above. She’d already been dumped on more than once skiing under overhanging branches. Cold wet slush had slipped under the collar of her jacket and sent chills down her spine. She could have stayed home, nice and warm. No doubt a couple of officers from the police department could have gone in her place to talk to this particular neighbor but she worried that they wouldn’t know what to ask. She was working on a hunch, and hunches were hard to explain to other people.

  She hadn’t even told Jon about this yet. He’d gotten home sometime around three this morning, she thought, and he’d fallen asleep just as soon as his arm had wrapped around her waist. He’d still been asleep when she left this morning. She hadn’t even been able to ask him what he’d found out about the names on the Christmas packages.

  Her skis turned onto Gordon Street, and then the house she wanted was just a few places up from this corner. The address was… huh. She knew this house.

  Once upon a time, a dear old man named Benson LaCroix had lived here. He had passed on years ago, of course, but Darcy still remembered his wit and his wisdom. Actually, Tiptoe’s mother had been Benson’s cat. Twistypaws had been beautiful, gray from nose to tail, with white-tipped ears, and Smudge had loved her very much.

  Remembering that actually brought a smile to Darcy’s face.

  Now, the house belonged to someone else. Mark Franks had told Darcy when he moved into town that he was looking at buying one of several vacant houses that were for sale here. This must be the one he decided on. Benson’s old house was three stories high, but very narrow front to back. Darcy had been inside several times but never once since Benson passed away. Now she would get the chance to see what Mark had done with the place.

  The awning roof over the porch had kept most of the snow away. Darcy took off her skis, leaving them stuck in a deep bank beside the steps, and then she had to carefully step down the slope of the snow to get to the door. Just for a moment, she hesitated. It was still early, and maybe
he was sleeping, or maybe she was interrupting him or something…

  If she was wrong, she could always apologize to him later. Maybe give him a free book from the store. In her experience, good books made up for just about anything.

  She knocked with the back of her knuckles, and then waited. She was just about to knock again when she heard Mark’s voice from inside.

  “Uh, coming! Just a moment.”

  He probably wasn’t expecting company, she guessed, but this couldn’t wait. Even if Mark wasn’t directly involved in the murders it was entirely possible that he had seen something. After all, he’d been out on his skis the night the storm started, the night of the murders. He’d even said he was down on that side of town. She had to at least ask him the obvious questions. She had to know for herself if she was right about him before she went to Jon with her suspicions.

  When he opened his door, Mark Franks was wearing his winter coat, with mittens on his hands, and heavy wool socks on his feet. She could see his breath. Darcy was almost certain she felt a wave of cold air coming out of the house, as if it was actually colder inside than it was outside.

  He blinked in surprise to find it was her standing there. “Well, hello. I wasn’t sure who I was expecting to find at my door this morning, but I should have guessed it would be the resourceful Darcy Sweet. Come on in. I’d say take off your coat and get warm, but I seem to be having trouble with my furnace at the moment.”

  She looked past him, into the cold house, like she expected someone to spring out at her at any moment. She realized then how jumpy she was. Maybe she should have brought Jon with her after all. Or Izzy.

  No. Not Izzy. Not this time. Not considering how she felt about Mark.

  He moved aside to let her in. Things in here were pretty much exactly like she remembered them from the last time she was here. The living room and kitchen were one long area, with a dining room alcove under one of the windows. Dishes were stacked high in the sink. The kitchen table was a mess of magazines and junk mail envelopes. In the middle of a snowstorm Mark Franks should have had no lack of time to tidy up, but he obviously hadn’t bothered.