The Darcy & Flora Boxed Set

by Blanche Day Manos

  Stopping at her chair long enough to pick up her coffee cup she leaned toward me and whispered, “Have them box up my waffles, Darcy. We’ll take them with us. I’m hearing too much now to take time out to eat. I’ve got to talk to Loretta Walker.”

  She headed for a corner booth where a couple I did not recognize was about to leave.

  Halfway through my breakfast, Pat Harris slid into the seat across from me. “How exciting, Darcy! Your mother tells me you’re going to write a book about Andrea Worth,” she said.

  So much for Mom’s discretion. It probably would do no good to tell Pat that she was mistaken, but I tried.

  “Not really, Pat. I’m thinking of a book about Ventris County in general. Of course, I’d probably mention Andrea since her case has never been resolved.”

  From the way her nose twitched, I didn’t think she believed me.

  Before the lunch crowd arrived, doubtless everybody in Levi would know Darcy Campbell had once again stuck her oar in and muddied the waters of a story that had been nearly forgotten.

  As we drove home, Mom and I shared what we learned at Dilly’s.

  “I guess that most people think Gary Worth’s wife did him wrong. Several people mentioned how neighborly he is,” Mom said.

  “Looks like it. Hiram Schuster couldn’t praise Gary enough for the carpentry work he did out at your school. Chuck Taylor told me that Gary actually gave him a calf after one of Chuck’s herd was hit by a car on the highway, and the list goes on.”

  “And Earlene Crowder—you know, she was housekeeper for the Worths for a while—said she had never heard Gary and Andrea exchange a harsh word. She said that Gary is a kind man.”

  One diner suggested I talk to Jasper Harris, Pat’s backward adult son. What could Jasper tell me? Surely he would not be involved in anything nefarious. Although he was a loner and sometimes wound up making situations worse when he intended to make them better, Jasper couldn’t be a danger to anybody.

  Mom was about to get out of the car as we stopped in her driveway when she snapped her fingers and settled back into the seat. “I forgot to mention that Earlene said Zack didn’t come home last night. She was trying not to worry but not doing a very good job of it.”

  Earlene and J. Lee Crowder were distant cousins of mine. Mom and Earlene were not close friends but they both were interested in the upkeep of Goshen Cemetery and comparing stories about James Tucker, our long-ago common ancestor. Zack was much younger than I and had been born in Earlene and J. Lee’s later years, so he and I had little in common. His parents could be accused of hovering where their only child was concerned.

  “How old is Zack now, twenty-five?” I asked. “He probably gets tired of reporting in.”

  “I guess you’re right. He drives a truck and I understand he does cross-country hauls at times. Aren’t you getting out, Darcy?”

  “No, I’m going to talk to Grant. He wasn’t the sheriff when Andrea disappeared, but maybe he has found something new about her during these two years.”

  Chapter 3

  Grant’s receptionist, Doris Elroy, looked up and smiled as I entered. She punched a buzzer and announced my arrival. “Go on in, Darcy.”

  When I walked through the door marked “Sheriff,” Grant was standing with his hands behind his back staring at the falling maple leaves outside his window. I could tell by the set of his shoulders that he was unhappy about something. His tone was as cold as the near-frost conditions which registered on my car.

  “Hello, Darcy.”

  I spoke to his back. “Hi, Grant. Looks like you’re deep into solving the world’s problems this morning.”

  His blue eyes shot sparks when he turned to look at me. His expression was not just cold but was downright furious. “Darcy, tell me that what I just heard about your meddling in the Worth case isn’t true.”

  After stepping all the way into his office, I closed the door behind me and sat down in a straight wood chair facing his desk. Gossip in Levi was faster than any form of technology.

  “Not meddling, Grant; gathering information. And am I right in surmising that’s the reason you are upset?”

  “No, Darcy, upset doesn’t even come close to the way I’m feeling right now. Here we are with one of the neatest disappearances in local history. The last sheriff and the OSBI couldn’t come up with even the smallest clue about what happened two years ago to Andrea Worth. So the investigation just dwindled away. Most of the people in Ventris County decided she just left old Gary. It became a cold case on state records, and as far as civilians like you are concerned, that’s the way it should stay. Why did you go to Dilly’s and start nosing around? Are you expecting somebody to walk right up to you and say, ‘Yep, I know what happened to Andrea Worth.’ It won’t work that way, Darcy.”

  A stack of papers flew off his desk as he smacked it with his open hand. He was really mad!

  “I just couldn’t believe it!” he continued. “A woman as experienced in crime reporting as you are knows very well what kind of trouble she may get into if she goes out and starts asking questions. What if Andrea didn’t just walk out on her husband? What if disappearing was not her idea at all? And, doggone it, Darcy, what if the person responsible for Andrea’s disappearance was right there in Dilly’s? I’ve been worrying about you ever since you came to Levi and got involved in finding out who killed poor old Ben Ventris. Maybe you couldn’t have helped being in the middle of that but . . . .” He paused and brought his voice down a few decibels. “Now you’re deliberately asking for trouble.”

  My own hackles began to rise. “Do you think I’m stupid enough to purposely put myself in danger? You remember that I am, or at least I used to be, an investigative reporter. We’re not always the most popular people on earth. Once, somebody even threatened me.”

  Palms down on his desk, Grant leaned toward me. His eyes narrowed. “Somebody threatened you? Who and when was that?”

  Immediately I wished I had kept my mouth shut. “Um, well, it was a few years ago, in Dallas. I had snapped a picture of a man coming out of a drugstore after a robbery. It was my picture that confirmed he was guilty and sent him to jail.”

  “What is his name and what, exactly, did he say?”

  “I’ll never forget his name—Rusty Lang. His exact words were, ‘I’ll get you for this.’“

  Grant shook his head. “That only proves my point. Why are you even interested in Andrea Worth after these two years?”

  I tried to keep my voice calm. “I’ve recently found out something that may shed more light on Andrea’s disappearance. Don’t you think I’ve been at this sort of thing long enough to know how to proceed?”

  “OK, Darcy Tucker . . . .”

  “Campbell.”

  “OK, Darcy Tucker Campbell, what are you talking about? What did you find out?”

  “Sorry. I can’t divulge a source and this may not amount to a hill of beans anyway.”

  He kicked his chair toward him and plopped down in it. “We don’t know where Andrea Worth is, but let’s just say for argument’s sake, there was something criminal. If that’s true, snooping around can be dangerous. Did you know, Darcy, that here in Levi the drug problem is getting to be pretty bad? Maybe somehow Andrea was mixed up in drugs. You don’t want to get in the middle of something like that.”

  With the desk between us, we sat glaring at each other. Of course I realized that drugs were a problem everywhere, even in small town Levi, but it was sad that it was getting worse. There seemed to be no stopping the trafficking of drugs by unscrupulous people. And the abundance of the gullible who decided to try it just once amazed me. However, “just once” was never often enough.

  “Pinocchio,” I muttered.

  Grant looked at me like maybe I had lost my mind.

  “The children’s story. Many times children’s literature holds lessons for grown-ups. In Pinocchio, boys who wanted only to go to Pleasure Island were gradually being turned into donkeys and didn’t realize it until
they were hooked; I mean, it was too late.”

  His frown deepened. “Yep, that would apply to drugs. But getting back to you—last spring, mostly through sheer luck, you and your mother managed to avoid ending up like Ben Ventris in Goshen Cemetery. I spent several weeks worrying and trying to get you out of harm’s way but would you listen? No! Not Miss Darcy, the renowned criminal writer.”

  So maybe my idea of going through the sheriff’s files about Andrea wouldn’t work. Grant sounded anything but cooperative.

  He picked up a pencil and tapped the eraser end on his desk blotter. “Andrea’s case was thoroughly investigated two years ago. That was when Art Grover was sheriff. He called in Steve Hopper from the OSBI. They came up with nothing. Zilch. In fact, Hopper is over in Tahlequah today about a different case. So, Darcy, I don’t know what you can hope to uncover.”

  “I know Steve,” I said. “I consulted him a few times in Dallas. Is he at the Cherokee County Courthouse?”

  “Don’t get any ideas, Darcy. He probably has already gone back to the city. I don’t want you and Miss Flora meddling in the Andrea Worth mystery.”

  Steve! Of course. How convenient that he was nearby. He had the enviable ability to file things away in his memory bank for years.

  “We didn’t ask to be involved in the Ben Ventris murder last spring, Grant. We just couldn’t seem to not be involved. It all turned out all right in the end, you’ll have to admit.”

  He reached across the desk and laid his hand over mine. “If you won’t consider your own safety, think of your mother. She could be in danger, too. For her sake and my own peace of mind, I sure do hope that you don’t start up your own investigation. Surely you know how I feel about you, Darcy, and how I’ve felt about you since you were sixteen years old. Just drop this crazy idea.”

  My heart seemed to be choking me and I felt my face grow warm. When I was sixteen, Grant was my first boyfriend. He was my date for the prom and he had kissed me beside the peony bush in my parents’ front yard. I had been very sure that I was in love with tall, handsome Grant Hendley. That was before Jake Campbell came into my life. I didn’t want Grant to look at me the way he was. I didn’t want to hear what he was saying. A person can’t just turn back the clock and take up a relationship where it ended. When Jake died, my heart broke and I had learned how very painful love can be. I didn’t want to be that vulnerable again.

  Pulling my hand away from his, I said, “I’m sorry, Grant, but this looks like something I’m going to have to do. I’ve got to find out for sure what happened to Andrea. If she ran off, she’s bound to be somewhere. I’m going to try to find her. If she met with foul play, well—maybe at least I can help her mother find some peace.” I scooted my chair away from his desk and headed toward the door.

  “Yes.” His voice was quiet. “And you may even get yourself killed, Darcy Tucker.”

  Chapter 4

  Twenty minutes later I was in Tahlequah, the capital of the Cherokee Nation. I drove past the old red brick building on the square that was once the county courthouse but now was property of the Cherokee Nation. I remembered going inside the courthouse a few times with my dad when I was a child. The mysterious odor that clung to the rooms, the slow-turning ceiling fans, the brass spittoons, all were novel to me and I felt a child’s awe at the intriguing surroundings.

  A bench at the edge of the lawn facing the sidewalk was a gathering place for the Spit and Whittle Club, a group of old-timers who sat and talked about local and national affairs. They solved many a problem, even if the solutions never reached farther than the Courthouse Square. Probably a good many governmental dilemmas could have been settled if legislators had the common sense of these men.

  A new courthouse had been built in 1979 and the old building was turned back into the hands of the Cherokee Nation as it had been when in was originally built in 1869. I made a mental note to take the time to visit this historic landmark again soon.

  Special Agent Steve Hopper of the Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation rose from his black leather chair in the “new” courthouse when I stepped into the consultation room. A smile began in his dark brown eyes; eyes that I’m certain never missed a thing in his twenty-some years as the agency’s lead investigator. I came to rely on this man’s knowledge, experience, and understanding of human nature when I was working on a story that spread from Dallas into Oklahoma. He often brought keen insight into a difficult case.

  Steve came around the desk and shook my hand. “Darcy, what a nice interruption.”

  “Thanks for arranging to see me on such short notice, Steve,” I said. “I realize you hadn’t meant to spend a lot of time in Tahlequah today and rehashing details of an old case wasn’t on your agenda.”

  “No problem,” he replied. “I’m just closing out an episode that required me to be in the courtroom for about thirty minutes, so I’ve got some extra time.”

  He motioned me to the chair across from his desk as he sat down. “So, Darcy, I understand you’ve left the newspaper. I guess that means you’re not here in a professional capacity?”

  “No, I took a leave of absence from the paper after my husband passed away. I just needed some time to think and maybe set new goals. I’ve always wanted to write a book and now seems to be a good time to start.”

  “You mentioned Andrea Worth’s disappearance when you called. Will that be the subject of your book?”

  “In a way. I had actually planned to include a lot of facts and legends about Ventris County, but Andrea’s mother sent my mom a letter the other day asking for our help. This is just between you and me, Steve. There was a lot of publicity about Andrea at the time she disappeared and I think I can find ample material. I haven’t spoken to a publisher, but I’m pretty sure I can find a market.”

  “I’d certainly think so. Has anything new come up?”

  “Not really.”

  He leaned forward, put both elbows on the borrowed desk and tented his fingers. “I’ll be happy to help you in any way that I can, but I’m sure you’re aware I was never officially involved in the case. Ventris County’s sheriff at that time called me and wanted some general information because local law enforcement couldn’t uncover a shred of evidence that pointed to a murder, an accidental death, a kidnapping, or even a planned disappearance. He had heard I grew up in Amarillo and was acquainted with Andrea’s family. Unfortunately I wasn’t much help.”

  “So you don’t actually know Andrea’s husband, Gary Worth?”

  He shook his head. “Although I’d heard quite a bit about Gary and his business interests, I’ve never met the man. Mainly, what the sheriff wanted from me was an opinion on whether a woman with Andrea’s background would simply get up and walk away, maybe with another man, and not even contact her mother. Of course, my opinion was that she would not. But I really don’t have any facts in the case other than what I read in the paper.”

  Opening my shoulder bag, I found my small notebook. “I’m not looking for hard facts here, Steve, not anything that can be proven. I’m here today because I want to draw upon your years of experience in human behavior and your instinct about how people usually respond in difficult situations. More particularly, if you’ve ever had a gut feeling, a guess, or a theory about what happened to Andrea Worth.”

  “That sounds fair. But first, let me get us some coffee. Black all right?”

  I nodded.

  He stepped out into the hall and returned with two steaming paper cups. Settling back in his chair, he thought for a minute.

  “Okay, let’s begin with what I know is factual, then I’ll give you my guess as to what actually came down before she disappeared.”

  My pen was ready.

  “Let’s begin with Tom Mott.”

  That brought me up short. “Andrea’s first husband? You think Tom Mott might have been involved?”

  His words were cautious. “I think there are a number of possibilities. But let’s start with April of 2001. That’s when Andrea was m
arried to Tom Mott. I understand she had been away working and then her grandmother died and left her a good-sized inheritance. Andrea came back home to Amarillo and helped her mother in the antique shop her mother owned. Mott had a small ranch just south of Amarillo. He met Andrea shortly after she arrived and immediately made a grandstand play for her. They got married less than two months after she returned.”

  He shook his head. “Then it gets sticky. Shortly after their marriage, the couple enlarged Tom’s ranch by buying a bigger, adjoining ranch.”

  “With Andrea’s money, I presume.”

  Hopper shrugged. “Well, he didn’t have a big ranch before they were married. By the way, I got all this information from a detective in Amarillo, Lee Davis. I’ll give you his number if you want to call him.”

  Yes, I surely would want to call him.

  “Some time later, Tom and Andrea got into a fuss of some kind right in the middle of a large restaurant parking lot. Mott pushed her against the car and she fell and was taken to the emergency room to have her knee stitched up.”

  “Wow! What a rat!”

  “Yes, but she declined to press charges. Andrea filed for divorce in a couple of weeks and moved back in with her mother. She lived with her mom for over a year, I believe.”

  I pondered the implications of these startling facts as he continued, “And that’s all I know that can be proven.”

  I put down my pen. “So what’s your gut telling you about Andrea?”

  Once again his reply was cautious. “I think there may be something in the divorce file that would help point us in the right direction, but the judge ordered it closed.”

  “Isn’t it unusual for a judge to close a court file in a divorce? And if it happens, it can be opened with a court order, can’t it?”

  “It is a little unusual for a divorce file to be closed, but it’s sometimes done if there’s a lot of property involved or if the order contains information that might be damaging to both parties.”