The Darcy & Flora Boxed Set

by Blanche Day Manos

  Who but a foolish and nosy crime reporter would be out in the woods on a day like today? People with any sense were safe at home. Undoubtedly, the only ears near enough to hear me were those of forest dwellers. I yelled again.

  Something rustled in the bushes. I gripped my flashlight, ready to wield it as a weapon. I might not be a match for a panther but I determined to die fighting.

  Lightning lit the trees and bushes around me, and a tall form stepped from the curtain of rain.

  “Miss Darcy?”

  Jasper dodged a tree branch and stopped in front of me. I grabbed his arm as if it were a lifeline. “Am I glad to see you!” I yelled above the sound of the downpour.

  Jasper sidled closer. “What under the sun are you doing out here, Miss Darcy? Of all the goofy things! Are you lost?”

  I gulped. “You might say so.”

  Then I noticed the rifle cradled in the crook of his arm.

  I pointed to the gun. “What are you doing out in these woods, in the rain, Jasper, with that gun?”

  “I was squirrel huntin’ before the storm caught me. I do that sometimes. Oh, for Pete’s sake! Don’t you know better than to be out in the woods during a thunderstorm? Where’s your car, Miss Darcy?”

  “It’s back on the wagon road, wherever that might be. That is, if it hasn’t been washed down the hill by a flash flood.”

  His words were edged with irritation. “You have no business out here. What if I had thought you were a squirrel or a deer and shot you? You hadn’t oughta be out here. It’s way too dangerous.”

  He grabbed my hand and tugged me along with him. I had to run to stay up with his long strides. My red car was a beautiful sight as it emerged from the trees. Jasper opened the door and practically shoved me inside.

  My teeth were chattering. “Can I give you a lift back home, Jasper?”

  “No. I’ve got other things to do. Just remember what I told you. Stay out of the woods. Don’t come back in here again, Miss Darcy.”

  Chapter 23

  My mother waited for me inside the front door of her farmhouse.

  “Darcy Campbell, you look like a drowned rat! Where in the world have you been? I was so worried. Go get into some dry clothes and then wrap up in an afghan while I get you something hot to drink.”

  I obediently went to my room, opting for pajamas and a robe as the long autumn night would soon be closing in. I sat down in the recliner in front of the cold fireplace, draped Mom’s green afghan around my shoulders and closed my numb fingers around the cup of steaming coffee she brought. I wished we had had the chimney repaired. A crackling fire would be welcome now. Jethro jumped up on my lap, turned around twice and nestled into the afghan. Ah! The comforts of home. Now and then it was nice to be fussed over.

  The telephone shrilled in the kitchen and I heard Mom hurry to answer it. Draining the last drops of coffee, I set the cup on the floor, and closed my eyes. Rain drummed a lullaby on an overturned flowerpot on the back porch.

  Shutting my eyes, I leaned my head against the soft chair. Jethro’s hypnotic purring became the sound of my mixer as I stirred up a chocolate cake in my home in Dallas. Jake came up behind me and put his arms around my shoulders.

  I smiled. “You aren’t helping me get this cake in the oven.”

  But, before he could answer, Mom shook my shoulder. “Darcy! Darcy, are you awake?”

  I opened my eyes as Jake and the kitchen in Dallas disappeared. “I am now, Mom.”

  “That was Sophie on the phone. She was pretty upset about a troubling development.”

  What about this case wasn’t troubling? I set Jethro on the floor and tossed back the afghan. Whatever the information Sophie had, I hoped it was important enough to have interrupted my pleasant dream.

  Mom poured dry cat food into Jethro’s bowl. “Sophie said that Tom Mott is going ahead with the fence. Remember he had the posts and the wire there in that area near where we ate our lunch on the Inglenook Ranch.”

  I nodded. “It seems to me that Tom is needling Sophie. If that land is legally hers, she can certainly make him take down the fence.”

  “Yes. She realizes that, but she will probably have to go to court or at least ask the sheriff to take care of it.”

  “I think she should file harassment charges,” I said.

  “She may. He just sounds like a thoroughly disgusting character. He told her that as soon as he marries Charlene and Andrea is declared legally dead, the ranch will be his anyway.”

  “I’m afraid he’ll have to wait five more years unless Andrea’s body turns up before then.”

  Mom looked down at Jethro who had spurned the dry food and was winding figure eights around her ankles.

  I bent over to stroke his back. “Spoiled cat! I’ll have to mix some canned food with the dry.” Jethro followed me to the cabinet as I reached in for a can of his favorite food.

  Mom sighed. “It’s nearly time for our supper, too. How does cornbread and milk sound to you?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Good. And while we eat, you can tell me where you were and how you happened to get soaked to the skin.”

  I would tell her about getting lost in the woods and being rescued by Jasper but I knew what her reaction would be. “Darcy Campbell, surely you know better than to go poking around in dark woods where panthers live. What on earth were you thinking?”

  What indeed? When my mother and I took on the mystery of the missing Andrea, I had no idea we were opening the door to a whole slew of questions, suspicions, and dangers. But, we had taken this assignment and there was no backing out. Somehow, I must discover what happened to Andrea Worth.

  Chapter 24

  That night I lay in bed and watched the clock creep toward one a.m. Ironically, I had come home to Levi in May for rest, peace, and healing after Jake’s death. So far, the peace had eluded me. As for the healing—well, if I were honest, I would say that I could look at the loss of my husband a bit more calmly now, but I also had to wrestle with guilt. If several hours passed without the pang of loss stabbing my heart, I felt guilty. In fact, rarely did I get to sleep before midnight.

  Last spring, Mom and I had been enmeshed in the drama concerning Ben Ventris and who had killed him. And now, only a few months later, here we were again, neck-deep in trying to figure out what had happened to Andrea Worth.

  At night, when all the busyness of the day should have been laid to rest, my mind kept swirling. Where was Andrea? How could we find out what had happened? And, judging from all the warnings I had been getting, how wise were we to continue?

  But there was another key figure in this drama, for a very different reason—Grant Hendley. I would have to be blind not to know that Grant still loved me. And, as disloyal to Jake as it seemed, I could not push away all those long-ago memories. Grant’s and my romance had continued for three years. After we both got out of high school, we had looked forward to a future together.

  I well remembered the night we sat in his old Chevy truck and spun our web of dreams. He had just gotten a very good job in the oil fields of western Oklahoma and I had begun working for a small newspaper in Tulsa, trying to decide whether I wanted to pursue my dream of college and a newspaper career. But young love seemed much more important than a college degree so we planned our wedding.

  Then, fickle creature that I was, two months later, Jake Campbell walked into the newspaper office and turned my head. Dark, handsome Jake with his ready grin and his knack for making people laugh. Jake was graduating from the University of Tulsa and had a bright future in front of him.

  “So, what are you doing stuck in this office, Darcy?” he had asked me. “Why aren’t you going to the university here or in Tahlequah? You would be great as a reporter. Now’s the time to prepare for tomorrow.”

  Loyalty to Grant struggled with the excitement and wonder of being near Jake. So, suppressing the guilt I felt over breaking Grant’s heart, I married Jake. I regretted the pain I caused Grant, but I had never reg
retted my decision to share my life with Jake.

  Had Grant found somebody else during the years after my marriage? Or maybe there had been a lot of “somebodies” but none that he married. After we broke up, he had quit his job in the oil fields, returned to Levi, and gotten a degree from Northeastern State University in Tahlequah.

  Since losing Jake, self-doubt and guilt reared its ugly head. This time, the shoe was on the other foot as far as Grant was concerned. How could I feel that old attraction for him when I was supposed to be a grieving widow? It was a heavy load—one that seemed unbearable at times, one I couldn’t talk about to anybody.

  Sometime around 3:00 a.m., I slid off into a solid sleep and was dreaming of driving down a strange highway over a river when I became aware the road ahead forked off in two directions. I wasn’t sure which fork to take. The meaning of that dream certainly needed no interpretation.

  At 6:30, Mom cracked open my bedroom door and called, “Get up, Darcy. We’ve got some decisions to make and I want to talk to you about some things.”

  It probably was not permissible to throw a pillow at one’s mother. I groaned. “Oh, Mom, I’ve got a headache and I slept so little last night. Couldn’t it wait until eight?”

  “No. Get up and take some aspirin. Drink a cup of coffee. We need to be on the road by 8:00 and I want to stop by the donut shop and get some of those cinnamon rolls you like so well.”

  Experience had taught me there was no arguing with that tone of voice. Then her words finally got through to my foggy brain. On the road? We need to talk. What on earth was so vital that it could not wait until later in the day? I slid out of bed and reached for my jeans and a T-shirt. When I stumbled into the kitchen twenty minutes later, Mom was filling a big aluminum thermos with hot coffee.

  She glanced at me. “You’d better wear a sweatshirt. It’s a little cool this morning.”

  I grinned. “Yes, Boss. Where are we going, might I ask? I thought we’d covered nearly everything when we talked last night. Has something come up this morning?”

  She turned and gave me one of those direct stares that stated plainly now was not the time for discussion. “We’re going out to Granny Grace’s property. We’ve got some decisions to make that require plain talk and that’s a good place to go to clear our minds of clutter and get away from that telephone!”

  “Well, yes, I realize the earthquake stopped me from going out there and you and I both enjoy it, but . . . .”

  “Besides,” she continued, “you need a little guidance with your life. I’m your mother and it’s my responsibility to tell you things you need to know.”

  Guidance in my life? Had she relapsed a few decades? Why was I being spoken to as if I were a child? I sat with my mouth open and watched her march out the kitchen door.

  “We’ll take my Toyota,” she called over her shoulder.

  I usually drove my Escape when we went anywhere together. Apparently, this morning I did not have a choice.

  Thirty minutes later, without any further comment or “guidance,” Mom pulled her Toyota into the turnaround under the biggest tree on the knoll where my grandparents had lived and she had grown up. The house that overlooked the valley and Ventris River burned down many years ago. Thankfully, it was empty at the time. The land, once owned by Granny Grace’s parents, had stayed in our family for four generations. I actually owned it now. It had been Jake’s and my dream to build a retirement home here someday had fate not intervened.

  Mom handed me the thermos and cinnamon rolls and pulled an old quilt out of the back seat. We walked toward the top of the little hill where the sun was warming the grass. She spread the quilt on the ground and motioned for me to pour the coffee.

  She settled down in the sunshine, crossed her legs, and came up with a surprising pronouncement. “I’ve made a decision.”

  I poured the coffee, waiting for further information.

  “I want to build a new house on this site; that is, if you okay it. We can have it as a retreat and when we feel the need to get out here and think, we won’t have to sit on the ground like we are now.”

  That was a shocker. I had tried to talk her into building a new house for several months but she always responded that she wanted to stay in the old house because she had so many loving memories of my father there.

  “But, Mom, I don’t understand . . . .”

  Then she threw in the clincher: “I’ve already drawn up a building plan myself. Our house will sit right on top of this hill where we can see for miles in every direction. It will have two bedroom suites—one for each of us—two other big bedrooms, a large office with built-in bookshelves for you, a big kitchen with all new appliances, a four-car garage, a full basement with a storm shelter, four bathrooms, three up and one down—”

  “Four bathrooms? Are you serious? Why four bathrooms and why all the spaciousness? This sounds like a mansion instead of a retreat.”

  Was she well? Maybe she had had some sort of a stroke? This certainly didn’t sound like frugal Flora Tucker. But she looked well, happy even. Maybe planning for the future was just what she needed.

  She held up one hand. “I know. I know. I’m actually kidding about the four bathrooms. But the point is, Darcy, I’ve got plenty of money and can afford to build. In fact, I’ve already called a builder to lay out the location for the basement.”

  Before I could think of an adequate reply, she gave me a sideways look. “It’s time to think about the future, for both of us. I’m only 67. I plan to live for 15 or 20 more years, and there’s lots of things I’d like to do, and having a house out here on my mother’s old home place is one of those dreams. Your dad and I had once thought to build a home here, just as you and Jake planned to do, but of course that didn’t happen.”

  We sat and thought for a few minutes of the men we had loved. Andy Tucker had been gone for nearly 20 years, but I knew my mother still thought of him every day.

  Suddenly she brought up another real shocker of a subject. “And another thing. I believe it’s time for you to move on also.”

  Maybe it was my sleepless night, but I was having trouble keeping up with this conversation. “Are you kicking me out, Mom?”

  She snorted. “Of course not. “I’m talking about Grant Hendley. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at him, and the years obviously have not changed the way he feels about you.”

  Once again, she gave me no chance to reply, which was a good thing because I seemed to have lost the power to speak.

  “When the two of you are together, I can see the attraction. Grant’s a good man, a smart man, highly respected in these parts, and I reckon it’s time you quit acting like he’s somebody you hardly know.”

  This was a long speech for my mother. Then she added, “Now you look me in the eye, Darcy Campbell, and tell me you don’t care about that man.”

  “But, Mom, Jake hasn’t been gone long . . . .”

  “I know, Darcy. You feel guilty about still caring for Grant.”

  Sudden tears stung my eyes and I nodded.

  She took my hand. “Look at it this way: You’re still young. You’ve got a lot of good years ahead of you. And if you could ask Jake how he felt about things, do you really think he’d say you should go on just the way you are now, being lonely and missing him all the time? Of course not. He’d say if you had another chance at happiness he’d sure want you to take it.”

  I squeezed her hand. It was a relief to have her voice all these dilemmas and conflicting thoughts.

  “Besides, try to imagine if things were the other way around, and Jake had a chance at a good, smart, hardworking woman who would be a real partner and really love him, wouldn’t you want him to grab that happiness?”

  I hugged my wise parent. There was no doubt she was right. Once again, Granny Grace’s acres and my mother had helped me put things in perspective. One weight had been rolled off my shoulders. I knew without a doubt, whether I told anyone or not, that I still cared deeply for Gr
ant Hendley.

  Chapter 25

  “Pat, Pat, slow down! I can’t understand what you are saying.”

  Mom held the phone’s receiver away from her ear but I could hear Pat Harris’s excited voice all the way across the room.

  Pat must have taken a deep breath and tried to control herself because I could no longer hear her. My mother nodded. “Yes, yes, I see. You think there is something under your garage floor?”

  Laying my screwdriver on the cabinet, I went to stand beside her. She and I had been trying to replace cabinet doors since the earthquake and it was a slow process. Screwdrivers and I were not best friends and I had a bloody thumbnail to prove it.

  “What is it?” I mouthed the words as Mom looked at me. She shook her head.

  “Uh-huh. I see. You want Darcy and me to come? It sounds as if you need a repairman, Pat. Or maybe Jasper could help? Darcy and I don’t seem to be much good at fixing things.”

  Pat’s voice rose again and I heard her high-pitched words. “No, no, Flora, I don’t need a handyman. Just hurry up and get out here, you and Darcy, too.”

  Mom replaced the telephone and turned to stare at me. Her eyes were troubled. “I know that earthquakes do strange things, like tornadoes do but I’ve never heard of a tornado scrambling someone’s mind.”

  “Is that what you think happened to Pat? What did she say?”

  My mother sat down at the kitchen table. “She said . . . she said that she hadn’t moved her truck out of the garage for a few days until just now. She pulled it out and the tires bumped over a rough place. She got out to look and she thinks there is something under her garage floor.”

  “Something under . . . that doesn’t make sense. Her garage is on ground level, just like her whole house. How could there be anything under it?”

  Mom pressed her fingers against her forehead. “She had that garage re-built only about two years ago. She told me she had a brand new floor poured. I remember she was bragging about how the concrete looked so pretty and smooth, not cracked at all.”