The Darcy & Flora Boxed Set

by Blanche Day Manos

  She winked at Sophie and they both giggled like two schoolgirls.

  Following Sophie’s lead, I tethered Mint to a scrub bush and hobbled over to join them.

  “Your cook knows how to put together a meal!” I said as I bit into a roast beef sandwich.

  “Yes, I do believe that Myron is probably the best cook in the county.”

  “Myron? I expected a name like Slim or Cookie or Sourdough.”

  Mom answered for Sophie. “Good heavens, Darcy, I think all you know about the West is what you’ve read in books.”

  Sophie shaded her eyes with her hand and looked into the distance. “Uh-oh,” she said. “Here comes trouble.”

  A horseman topped a ridge and trotted in our direction. Reining in, he rested his arms on the saddle horn and leaned toward us.

  Sophie got to her feet and faced him. “Tom Mott, what are you doing out here?”

  The man sitting astride his beautiful bay horse seemed to be perfectly at home in the saddle. Looking up, I met a pair of the most hostile hazel eyes I had ever seen. So this was Tom Mott, Andrea’s first husband. He wore a dusty black hat over longish sandy hair, a light blue jacket and faded blue jeans. Tom was a small man, wiry and muscular. His lean face was set in hard lines. How could Andrea have been attracted to a man who looked like a picture straight off a wanted poster? Did she enjoy an element of danger? There was just no accounting for whims of the heart.

  “I could ask you the same question, Miss Sophie, ma’am.”

  Sophie’s voice was low and tense. “This is my ranch. I have every right to be here.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I’m thinking the surveyor I’ve hired may have a different idea about this strip of the Inglenook. Did you notice I’m ready to run a fence to be sure that my cattle don’t mix with yours? Pretty neighborly of me, I think.”

  Sophie’s hands clenched into fists. Mom and I scrambled up to stand beside her. “You know good and well that your property line is back at least half a mile,” she said through clenched teeth. “What no-good surveyor and lawyer have you hired this time?”

  Tom Mott looked for all the world like a sly fox when he grinned. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we, Miss Sophie Ma’am?”

  He lifted the reins and his horse moved away at a gallop. We watched until he disappeared below a swell in the prairie.

  Chapter 9

  “Our last night in Amarillo,” I said and sighed. We three women huddled under warm afghans, tucked around us in Sophie’s wicker rockers on her front porch. The starry sky seemed almost close enough to touch. The lonely cry of a coyote rose and fell on the wind.

  “Those stars up there look a lot bigger than they do in Levi,” Mom said. “Must be the clear air.”

  “Higher elevation, too, I imagine,” Sophie said. “You don’t really have to go back home, you know. You are welcome to stay as long as you like.”

  “We’ve accomplished about all we came to do,” I said. “I’ve met and talked with you and Sergeant Romero, and I’ve met the formidable Tom Mott. Only thing I haven’t done is interview your niece Charlene. I dialed her number three times and she doesn’t answer. I get the distinct impression she doesn’t want to talk to me.”

  Sophie shook her head. “Could be. I gave you her cell phone number and I’m sure she has the phone with her. Well, you tried, Darcy. That’s all anyone can do.”

  Yes, that was all I could do.

  “Did you get any information that you think may be helpful in your search for Andrea?” Sophie asked.

  Actually, I didn’t know. True, I now had more of a feel for Andrea’s life before she married Gary Worth and came to Levi. I had met her first husband. I knew that Tom wanted, above all else, to own all or part of Inglenook. I wondered if that might have been the reason he married Andrea. But Tom had an alibi for the time of Andrea’s disappearance, as did her spiteful cousin. Besides, why would Tom kill or kidnap Andrea now? If that had been his plan, surely he would have done so while he was still married to her.

  Before I could answer Sophie, a Crossfire Roadster wheeled into Sophie’s driveway and parked under the yard light. “Well, well, Darcy. It seems you are about to get your wish,” Sophie said.

  A young woman slid out of the sporty white car with the black ragtop and came up the walk.

  “Good evening, Charlene. Pull up a chair,” Sophie said.

  “Hi, Aunt Sophie. I’ll perch here on the railing. I haven’t long to stay,” Charlene said.

  Sophie motioned toward Mom and me. “Charlene, I wanted to introduce you to my visitors earlier. This is Flora Tucker and Darcy Campbell.”

  The young woman nodded. Her face was mostly in shadow but I thought she seemed troubled. “I know who they are. Carol, your helper told me.”

  “Did Carol refund your money for the lamp?”

  Charlene shrugged. “Oh, sure. All it took was a word from you. Actually, I came to tell you something, Aunt Sophie. You will hear it anyway and I’d rather you hear it from me so you can be happy for me.”

  I sensed Sophie’s tenseness. Whatever it was Charlene had to say, I had the feeling that it probably would not make her aunt feel terribly jolly.

  Charlene slipped off the railing and held her left hand out toward us. A ring with a large diamond glittered in the moonlight.

  “A ring? An engagement ring? Why, that’s wonderful, Charlene. Who is the lucky man?”

  “Tom Mott.”

  Sophie gasped and I could feel her shock and dismay. Looking up at her niece, she slowly shook her head. “Tom? Oh, no, Charlene.”

  Charlene jerked her hand away and crammed it into the pocket of her tight Levis. “Why not? Tom loves me and I—well, I’ve loved Tom for a long time.”

  Sophie drew a deep breath. Her voice sounded tired as she said, “Oh, Charlene, dear child, I hope you’ll reconsider.”

  Charlene stamped a booted foot. “Look, Aunt Sophie, let’s put our cards on the table, shall we? You know that I’ve always been crazy about Tom. I loved him even before he married Andrea. She took him away from me, and you know she did! But then, I guess she paid for it, didn’t she?”

  I spoke before I had time to consider my words. “What do you mean, ‘she paid for it,’ Charlene?”

  Charlene backed up. Her voice sank to a whisper. “I don’t mean what you’re thinking. I would never hurt Andrea. Never. Yes, Granny gave her the ranch and it should have been half mine. That was so unfair! But I am not responsible for her disappearance.”

  Standing up, I faced Charlene. “But you know who was responsible.”

  “No. No, of course I don’t. Why ever would you think that?”

  Her chest rose and fell in quick gasps. Her face looked flushed. Something was troubling this young woman. She had come for more reasons than showing her aunt the diamond ring.

  I recalled the receptionist, Tiny Monroe, and her comment as we left Lee Davis’s office. Mom had said that it looked like everybody was busy when Andrea had disappeared.

  “And then again, maybe not,” Tiny had said.

  The woman who stood in front of me now was more than excited; she was scared. Had she come to check me out? Maybe she wondered just how much I knew about Andrea. Tiny’s words as we left Sergeant Romero’s office may have been more than just the empty gossip of a nosy woman. She had insinuated that not all the possible suspects had an alibi at the time of Andrea’s disappearance.

  This could be the right time for a bluff. I decided to risk it. “You went to Levi. You saw Andrea.”

  Charlene swallowed. Abruptly sitting down on the porch rail, she grabbed the post for support and stared at me, her eyes wild.

  “How—how did you know?”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I said, “I didn’t.”

  Charlene began to cry, her shoulders shaking. Between sobs, the words tumbled out, scarcely audible. “I knew when I heard that you were here in Amarillo that you would keep digging. I’ve heard about you and your work for the
Dallas Morning News. I’ve read some of your stories. I knew you wouldn’t let well enough alone. Yes, I did go to Levi and, yes, I did see Andrea!”

  Sophie’s afghan slid to the floor as she sprang to her feet. She grabbed her niece’s arm, as taught as a bow string. “Charlene! Do you know what happened to my daughter?”

  Charlene stared at the floor. She covered her face with her hands and tried to control her tears. “I swear to you, Aunt Sophie, I do not know what happened to Andrea. I went to Levi a week before she disappeared. I went to try to talk some sense into her head. I wanted her to sign over half of the Inglenook to me. Tom was so unhappy and I just wanted to make him happy, make him love me like I love him. But Andrea wouldn’t listen. She said that I would probably turn that wonderful ranch into a housing development. But I would never have done that. When I left her, Aunt Sophie, I swear to you she was as alive as you or I.”

  The only sound on the porch was the wind sighing around the corner and Charlene’s labored breathing.

  Then slowly, Sophie spoke. “I see. Yes, I understand. I believe you.”

  Charlene wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Her voice was a whisper. “Thank you, Aunt Sophie. Andrea and I were not friends, but I never would have hurt her. All my life I wanted to be like her. She was Granny’s favorite and she took Tom away from me. If only Granny had been fair and left half the ranch to me.”

  The three of us sat silently as we watched Charlene stumble down the sidewalk, her shoulders sagging. The little car backed out of the driveway and its taillights disappeared into the darkness.

  “Yes,” Sophie said, “if only Mom Williams had treated the girls equally.”

  But she hadn’t. The shortsightedness and selfishness of adults sometimes cost children dearly. It had done so with Charlene. Like Sophie said, Eudora Williams was a mean old gal.

  Envy, greed, revenge; all of these were ingredients that could never have a happy outcome. Something clicked in place for me. If Andrea were dead and if Charlene had the Inglenook and Tom married Charlene, that beautiful ranch would at last be in the hands of Andrea’s first husband.

  Chapter 10

  When my mother needed to work out her frustrations, she grabbed a mop and dust cloth and lit into the house. I grabbed gardening gloves and pruners and attacked the yard.

  We got back home from Amarillo yesterday and I was still trying to process all the things I learned there; the people I met, the different outlooks and stories they represented. What a tangle Andrea’s disappearance was!

  And too, I was suffering from jet lag without the jet. Amarillo was a different lifestyle, different surroundings. The weather news said that last night a snowstorm blew into Amarillo, so I was thankful we had made it home before it hit. It sounded like their weather was as changeable as Oklahoma’s.

  If I had any thoughts of keeping my investigation into the vanished Andrea a secret, those thoughts evaporated after our visit to Dilly’s Cafe. So maybe it was a good thing that we hadn’t searched out the Amarillo equivalent to Dilly’s. We had blown my mental image of a sleuth wearing a trench coat, hat pulled low over her eyes, silently slipping through the darkness to discover hidden clues and bring the bad guys to justice. No, my mother and I had pretty much broadcast to the world that I would be writing a book which just might include a chapter or two about Andrea Worth. So much for secretiveness. We had done a good job of spilling the beans. But when I thought of the hope in Sophie Williams’ eyes, it made my efforts worthwhile. She had assured us that she was happy we were taking on Andrea’s case. Her innocent trust in my ability made me cringe. Was I worthy of that trust? I hoped so. For Sophie’s sake, I would try.

  The sun felt warm on my back as I snipped and stacked twigs and branches. Evidently, we were experiencing Indian summer. I viciously cut an offending oak sprout from among the peonies.

  And then there was the episode with Grant. It would have helped to have the sheriff of Ventris County on my side but he thought I was a meddling female; albeit, one he was attracted to. I was not ready to become romantically involved with anyone just yet. Jake had been my life and when he died, a part of me died with him. I had grown a protective shell around the area of my heart and I liked it that way. How dare Grant awaken feelings that I wanted kept buried? Whacking off another sprout, I realized, too late, that it was part of the peony bush. And how dare Grant tell me to back off?

  With the peonies subdued, I had progressed to snipping the small sprouts around the oak tree when a dark blue SUV pulled into the driveway. A tall, blond man got out of the driver’s side and walked to the front gate.

  “Darcy? Mrs. Campbell?” he asked. “I’m Gary Worth.”

  I dropped my pruners and nodded. One of my mother’s old sayings came to mind, “Well, speak of the devil.” But I didn’t say that. I swallowed my surprise and said, “Hello, Mr. Worth.”

  Gary rested his crossed arms on the front gate. I resisted the urge to tell him he might bend the hinges.

  “What can I do for you?”

  As he leaned toward me, I noticed that he was a very attractive man. His green, crisply ironed shirt matched the color of his eyes and covered a well-muscled chest and arms. He had the bronzed look of someone who spent a great deal of time out of doors. When I compared Gary with Tom Mott, Tom didn’t fare so well. This second husband of Andrea’s looked like the proverbial dashing and successful hero of every young girl’s dream.

  His dark green eyes held mine as he said, “I heard that you are re-opening Andrea’s case.”

  Shaking my head, I said, “I’m not sure what you heard, Mr. Worth . . . .”

  A brief smile lit his eyes. “Gary.”

  “Okay. Gary, I don’t know what you heard, but gossip has a way of getting twisted as it goes from one person to the next. I’m planning on writing a book about the mysteries of Ventris County. Much of it will include legends and tales that my Cherokee grandmother told me, and I’ll probably have a chapter or two about the Ventris case my mother and I were involved in last spring.”

  He nodded. “Ben and the lost gold. I’ve always wondered about that gold and just exactly where it is. Should be an interesting book. So you aren’t going to write about Andrea after all?”

  I hedged a little. “I don’t know yet what will wind up in the book. Sometimes as I write, the story takes on a life of its own and I just sort of record it.”

  His green eyes narrowed. “That sounds far-fetched to me. You’re bound to work from some sort of outline.”

  I pulled off my gloves and wiped my hands on my jeans. “To be truthful, the story hasn’t even reached the outline stage yet. A friend of mine suggested I write a book and include in it some mysteries or legends of Ventris County. Since Andrea disappeared fairly recently and nobody knows where, it might be good to include that. I’d probably use newspaper stories as the primary source.”

  His eyes never left my face. He seemed to be digesting this. Finally, he spoke.

  “I’ve come to ask a favor, Darcy. Is it all right to call you Darcy?”

  “Sure.”

  “If you decide you need to talk to other people or go searching for clues or whatever, will you come to me first? If you turn up new information, I’d sure like to know about it before I read it in some book. And maybe I can help you. I’ve still got pictures of Andrea and you’d be welcome to them . . . you know, maybe somebody would read your book and recognize Andrea and realize they had seen her.”

  That was an angle I hadn’t thought of. But then, I hadn’t given much thought to Gary Worth as a source of any additional information.

  “You’re very kind, Mr. Worth, um—Gary.”

  “Hey, listen, it’s been two years. Can you imagine what that’s like—the not knowing? I didn’t ever think that Andrea was an unkind person, but disappearing like that without even a word; well, that’s pretty selfish. Sometimes I lie awake at night and wonder where she is.”

  He ran his hands though his blond hair and shook his hea
d. He seemed to really care for her. What would make a woman leave this attractive, wealthy man who loved her? That was something I was determined to find out.

  “I lost someone I loved, too,” I told him. “But it was through death so, no, I can’t imagine the pain you are going through. Not knowing has got to be rough.”

  “We have something in common then. It was nice meeting you, Darcy. Remember to call on me if you need any help at all. I’d like to work with you on finding Andrea. I’m glad that you’re writing the book. If we can locate her, even if she doesn’t want to come back home, at least I’ll know where she is. I’ll try to accept her decision and move on with my life.”

  He gave a brief salute, climbed into his SUV and roared off down the street.

  Jethro poked his nose out from under the peony bush. “And what do you think about that?” I asked as I lifted him up. His soft fur felt warm against my cheek. “What kind of woman would leave a rich, handsome man like Gary Worth?”

  Once again, my companionable cat had no answers. He sprang from my arms and loped off toward the front porch as if to tell me that he wasn’t involved in this dilemma and I was entirely on my own.

  Chapter 11

  Spring Creek, far below me, flashed silver in the moonlight. The flat boulder I perched on had been my seat many times in the past. I walked out here tonight, through Mom’s back pasture, hoping the creek and the stillness of the autumn night would work its quieting magic once again. I could think of little else but the mystery of the missing Andrea. During the months since Andrea’s disappearance, other things crowded her memory from my thoughts, but since the arrival of Sophie’s letter, the mystery and possibilities swirling around her disappearance occupied my mind.

  Sophie’s letter started the whole thing, at least as far as Mom and I were concerned. The visit to Dilly’s Cafe, interviews with Grant and Steve Hopper, the trip to Amarillo and meeting Sophie face to face, Sergeant Romero, Tom Mott, Charlene, all these were like characters in a play. Each one appeared on stage, acted his part, and moved the story along. But in what direction? If answers existed, they were elusive. All I found were more and more questions. Andrea had simply disappeared. It seemed that she was not well loved by everyone. Was she fearful for her life? Had she decided that running away was her only possible choice in order to be safe? And the most unanswerable questions of all: Why had I agreed to help Sophie? What had I gotten my mother and myself into? And why on earth couldn’t I learn to let well enough alone?