by K. J. Emrick
So… Leighton dated many women, but loved Erika most of all? He asked her to marry him, and then left her so they argued… and he killed her?
Maybe.
Then again, Darcy had encountered any number of people in her life who claimed to be one thing but were really another. Liars who were so good at lying that you had to use a magnifying glass to find the truth. Leighton could be one of those.
Not that she would know for sure if she never got the chance to talk to the man. Hmm. Maybe, if he wouldn’t come to Misty Hollow, she would just have to go to Arizona…
In her belly, the baby kicked.
Right. She was pregnant. No matter how much she enjoyed a good mystery she wasn’t really in any position to go flying off all around the country to run down a single lead. She’d never even been to Arizona. Or west of the Mississippi River, for that matter. Now was not the time for that particular trip, on a whim.
Whatever she was going to do to solve this mystery, she was going to have to do it from right here.
The third letter was far more interesting than the others. This was the one that Leighton Reeves had written and dated two days after Erika Becht had died. The one that implied he didn’t know about Erika’s death when he wrote it.
You hurt me deeply when you ran away crying, said the original words on the page. I know I should have gone after you, but I had a train to catch. I’m already in Arizona now. I’m truly sorry I couldn’t bring you with me and I hope someday you’ll forgive me. I’ll come back when I can.
Those were the words that Leighton had written for everyone to see.
The words that had been revealed now, over the heat from the stove, had been written just for Erika Becht. Only, the letter had been written after she died. She never got to see this.
Did Leighton know that when he sent this?
DON’T BELIEVE HER, the brown lemon juice letters read. SHE IS LYING TO TEAR US APART.
That was all. No deep expressions of love like the other two letters. No hidden desires. Just this plea that Erika not believe… her.
Who was Leighton talking about?
While she thought about that she tore off some paper towels from the roll to mop up the soup. The red color was already starting to stain the linoleum. Next time she would pick a white soup. Like Clam Chowder. Actually, that sounded really good. Her belly growled, and the baby kicked, and she realized that lunch wasn’t going to wait any longer than it already had.
Only, the floor still needed to be cleaned.
She laughed at herself. “For Pete’s sake, Darcy. If your worst problem is that you have too much to do in your life as a mother, a wife, and a friend, then I’d say your troubles are pretty good ones.”
A glance at the clock told her that she wouldn’t have time to cook anything for herself before Colby came home from school, not anymore, so she was going to have to settle for a cold sandwich of turkey slices and cheese. Suddenly, that was exactly what she wanted.
First things first, though. From under the sink she took out a spray bottle of floor cleaner. A couple of spritzes with this, and let it set while she ate, and the stain should be gone. Amazing what modern science had wrought for the American homeowner.
When she looked down at the floor again, she stopped.
The faint discoloration caused by the soup had looked like just a random stain to her when she first saw it. Now, from a different angle, it was something else.
A circle. A nearly perfect circle of red with three lines bending off from each side. A soup stain in the shape of something almost identifiable, but not quite.
Very little in her life happened without it having some kind of meaning. Whether it was a cat dragging a letter up to the stove, or a can of soup exploding across the floor and leaving behind the image of a… of a what?
Red circle. Crooked lines.
Huh.
It was in moments like these that she almost wished she did carry a cell phone with her. It would be handy to have a camera with her wherever she went. Then whenever she saw an image that she knew she should recognize but didn’t, she could just take a picture of it and carry it around with her until she remembered where she recognized it from.
As she went from the kitchen to the shelf in the living room where they kept the digital camera, Darcy wondered. Could she maybe carry a cellphone without a service plan, just for the apps? A camera, a contacts list, a calendar to write notes on… it would be like having her own personal data assistant without the annoyance of unwanted phone calls. From people she didn’t like, or from ghosts, either.
She decided that was definitely something she would need to ask Jon for later. Mother’s Day had come and gone, but there was always her birthday. Funny how it could take years to think of a good idea like that. Digital camera in hand she went back to the kitchen. She snapped a couple of photos of the stain, checking the display each time to make sure the image was visible. It definitely reminded her of something.
When she put the camera down on the counter to reach for the cleaner, the stain on the floor was gone. Message delivered, apparently. The ghostly hand that had put the design there in the first place had taken it away again.
“Uh, thank you,” Darcy said hesitantly. “I don’t suppose you do windows?”
Silence met her joking comment. Had it been Erika Becht who showed her this? Most likely, yes. There hadn’t been any other ghosts in the house for weeks now. Except for Aunt Millie, of course. The last, most recent, ghost under this roof had been a very nice oriental man who had a heart attack while visiting friends here in town. Darcy had shown him how to cross over to the next plane of existence, and that had been the last she saw of him.
Erika Becht hadn’t just shown up in the house. She’d set herself on fire. Whatever she wanted to tell Darcy was that serious. So, it was a safe bet that any paranormal activity that happened in the house for the next little while would be caused by Erika.
“You couldn’t just write me a message?” Darcy waited, but once again there wasn’t any answer. “If I dropped another can of soup, would you tell me if you were really murdered or not? Maybe give me a name?”
She almost went to the cabinet for another can of soup to give it a try. She decided not to take the chance. Instead, she went to the refrigerator and finally got herself a sandwich. As she ate at the kitchen table she looked at the letters, and at the pictures on the camera.
Was she any closer to solving this mystery? She pondered that for a moment as she munched her food. If she was, she couldn’t tell.
A knock on the door certainly wasn’t Colby. Darcy hadn’t heard the bus and besides, her daughter never had to knock to come into her own house. Putting her empty plate and cup in the sink on the way by, Darcy went to see who it was.
It turned out to be Linda Becht standing there on the front porch. Her eyes were sad, and the smile she raised up for Darcy didn’t last very long. “I just heard about my uncle,” she explained.
Roland Baskin, she meant. “Oh, Linda, I’m sorry,“ Darcy told her. “I should have thought to come over to the library and see if you’d heard. I have that book to return to you, too, but that’s not important. How are you?”
Linda waved a hand at that. “I’m fine. Your sister Grace actually came over to break the news to me. You know, it’s funny, I never thought I’d miss that old grump. I think maybe it’s because I just found out that Mom might have been… you know. So her death is kind of fresh in my mind and here Roland dies, too. It’s a lot to take in, I guess.”
“How about sitting down with me,” Darcy said, inviting her to come inside. “We can have a cup of tea. I want to show you something I just found, too. Maybe it will make you feel a little better.”
“About Mom?” Linda asked, stepping through the door so Darcy could close it.
“Take a look.”
They sat at the table and drank tea while Linda tried to understand what she was seeing. “They wrote secret messages to each other? In lemon j
uice?”
“Or something like it, yes.” Darcy picked up the earliest letter. “I like how Leighton expresses himself to your mother. He’s not afraid to show his feelings. It’s really kind of romantic.”
“Sure,” Linda said, her voice bitter. “Unless he’s the one who killed her and he was just trying to set up an alibi with all of this.”
Darcy bit her tongue, because that was just what she’d been thinking. It wasn’t what Linda needed to hear right now. Nor did she need to hear the rumors that Leighton was dating lots more women than just Linda’s mother. No good could come from that, even if it did turn out to be true.
“They were obviously in love,” Darcy pointed out. She was still sure of that much, at least.
Linda shook her head. “I don’t know, Darcy. Even now that I see the message within the message, it doesn’t make me believe he’s innocent. He could still be trying to fool people into believing he didn’t know she was dead. Just more misdirection on his part.”
“But who would know about the secret messages?” Darcy asked, as much to herself as to Linda. “That had to be something just between him and your mother. Why put a message there that he knew no one would see, if he knew your mother was already dead? Why waste his time?”
“To cover his tracks,” Linda insisted. “I’m not ready to rule him out.”
She looked so upset. Darcy’s heart went out to Linda, and she wished she had some definite answers to give. “We found Leighton Reeves,” she said, and went on to explain how Leighton was still living in Arizona and how Jon had spoken to him by phone. Even that didn’t prove or disprove anything since Leighton wasn’t willing to talk to them, but at least it was progress of a sort.
Linda set down her cup of tea. “Jon can’t make Leighton talk to him? He can’t… I don’t know, extricate him back here or something?”
“I think the term is extradite,” Darcy corrected gently. “And no he wouldn’t be able to do that without some kind of compelling evidence. He hasn’t given up, and he’s really good at his job. If anyone can get Leighton Reeves to talk, it will be Jon.”
With a sigh, Linda set her cup down and then pushed it aside. “I think I’m just going to have to get used to the idea that I may never know what happened to my Mom. She’s dead, and that isn’t going to change no matter what you find out for me.”
“Well, that’s true, but don’t give up hope. I’m certainly not.” Questions had been forming while she sat here talking to Linda, and now she asked one of them. “Do you remember Leighton Reeves at all? Can you tell me what he was like when he was dating your mother?”
“I barely remember the man to tell you the truth. Mom was very careful not to bring any of the men she was dating around me. Not unless it was serious.”
“And was it serious between her and Leighton?”
Linda took a long moment before she nodded. “Yes. I think it was. They were seeing each other for a long time, I think. Like I said, I hardly ever saw Mom’s boyfriends but she did bring Leighton to the house a few times. He was the only one she ever brought to the house and I did spend time with him. Once, he brought me to the pond to go skating. Another time…”
She stopped midsentence, her eyes focusing on the past.
“What is it?” Darcy asked.
“Um. I’m not sure.” Linda laughed, but it sounded forced. “I remember a day when Leighton was over to visit Mom and a car pulled into our driveway. A woman got out, and she was yelling at Leighton. After that, Mom got real upset and told Leighton to leave.”
“You’re sure? Do you remember who the woman was that yelled at Leighton?”
“Um, no I don’t. Does that mean something?” Linda asked.
“It might. Maybe it means they argued a lot. Maybe it means their engagement wasn’t as important to Leighton as it was to your mom.”
“Engagement?” Linda sounded surprised. “Darcy, my mother was never engaged to Leighton. She would have said something to me.”
Interesting. Again, there were two sides to the story and very little common ground between them. Darcy thought about what Damita had told her. Leighton was a player. A man who liked to have several girlfriends all at once. Was that what Linda had seen when she was a little girl? After all, there was no way to date several women here in a small town like Misty Hollow without all of them finding out about it eventually.
Darcy debated whether she should tell Linda the things that Damita had said, but she decided against it. For now, at least. Linda was upset enough as it was. Telling her the things that had been said about Leighton would only upset her more. Right now it was Damita’s word against the words in these letters.
Funny, though, that none of the other book club members had known anything about Leighton’s other girlfriends. Cora and Evelyn had said they would have dated Leighton, if given the chance, but that was hardly the same thing. All of them seemed to believe Leighton and Erika were devoted to each other. Except Damita. And Rosie too, Darcy supposed, since she was supposedly the woman Erika and Leighton had argued about the day Erika died.
Linda didn’t think her mother was engaged… but the book club members did. They were all positive Erika had been engaged. Damita said she heard it straight from Erika herself. Was that the sort of thing a mother would keep secret from her daughter? Why hadn’t Erika told Linda, if she was telling other people?
“Well,” Linda said, after a long moment of quiet thoughts for both of them. “I suppose I should be going. Thank you, Darcy. I mean, for everything you’re doing. Even if we never get an answer I know you’re trying your best.”
Darcy stood with her, wishing there was more she could say. She thought that maybe she should mention seeing her mother’s ghost, and about how that had been a clue that helped her figure out the secret messages on the letter. Just as quickly she discarded that idea. Describing her mother’s spirit in flames was not a picture she wanted to pass onto Linda.
Some things were best left unsaid.
“So,” she asked instead, “when’s the funeral for your uncle?”
“Tomorrow, actually.” Linda brought up another sad smile. “Roland had everything set for when he went. His headstone’s in place, the casket is waiting for him, everything’s already paid for… I guess he knew his time was close. So, I’ve got a meeting with his attorney in an hour to read over his will, and then it’s on to Pastor Phin to arrange the services, and tomorrow we’ll say a few words over his casket before we bury him. Did you know Walmart sells caskets now? Who would’ve thought.”
She laughed softly. Darcy smiled with her. “I notice you call your uncle by his first name. You don’t say Uncle Roland.”
“No, I don’t. We haven’t been close in a very long time. Since before Mom died. After that he drifted away and I guess he’s never really felt like an uncle to me. Don’t get me wrong. He loved my mother. Him and Leighton were good friends too, I think. Of course, I always thought that was just about the money.”
“Uh, money? What money?”
Linda shrugged. “Roland was independently wealthy. He sure didn’t live like it, but he had more money than he knew what to do with. Guess that comes to me now. Not that I want it necessarily but I guess it would be stupid to turn it down just because I’m so upset. Right?”
“Did your mother have money?” Darcy asked. She hated herself for even putting words to that thought, but she had to know. It could be the whole motive in a nutshell. “Was she wealthy or something?”
Now Linda laughed for real. “No. Oh, no. Roland kept all his money for himself. Mom never asked him for a dime, and he never offered us any. Like I say, him and Leighton were close and maybe it was because Roland shared his wealth with Leighton, but it sure didn’t come our way. Heh. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to see Leighton’s name come up in the will. Anyway Darcy, thank you. Wherever this ends, I appreciate what you’re doing for me. I mean that.”
As she was walking out, Darcy saw the school bus pulling up next door
to let Lilly off at her house. Colby got off there as well, skipping down the driveway next to her. Darcy decided to give them a little bit of time together before she went to collect her daughter. There would be homework to do, and a dinner to make, and other end-of-the-day stuff to take care of as well.
All of that could wait. For the moment, Colby should be allowed to enjoy herself. After all, life was too short.
* * *
“You’re being awfully quiet.”
“I’m reading,” Darcy told Jon, even though he already knew that.
They were on the couch in the living room. Colby was up in bed, and it was late. Jon was flipping through one television channel after another, over, and over. There was nothing on anywhere worth watching. He was just killing time while she went through the missing persons case folder for Allison Tinker. There wasn’t much in here, but Darcy was taking her time going through it.
After another few minutes of this, Jon cleared his throat and leaned closer to her, putting his arm around her shoulders. “You got to the part where we found the boyfriend, right?”
“Yes, Jon.”
“And how he says he bought Allison a bus ticket?”
“Yes.”
“The ticket sent her to a bus stop not far from here. You saw that part?”
“Yes, I did.”
“How about the part that says Allison’s aunt is going to kill me if we don’t find her?”
Darcy flipped a few pages. “It does not say that in here.”
“It might as well.” He shrugged. “Allison’s been in my aunt’s care ever since her mother—my sister, thank you very much—went to prison. That aunt never liked me to begin with and if I can’t find her now I’m guessing what’s left of my family is going to blame me personally for anything that happens to her.”
