by K. J. Emrick
Izzy was ringing up the sale of books and t-shirts from a short line of customers, smiling and making small talk. Darcy waved until she caught her attention and then motioned to her watch, and rubbed her belly.
Lunchtime. Hungry?
With a fervent nod of her head, Izzy put her hands together and pantomimed a “please” with her lips. Darcy gave her a thumbs up, and then went back outside to get them both something to eat…
And stopped, because only then did it occur to her that the bakery was where she usually got lunch when she was in a hurry. The La Di Da Deli had always had a better selection of sandwiches and whatnots, but it was further away. Well. She might as well get used to the walk, she supposed. At least until Tobias or somebody else rebuilt the bakery.
She snuggled into her coat and hunched her shoulders against the wind. The Farmer’s Almanac had forecast a short, intense winter, and so far it looked like they were going to be right this time. It wasn’t keeping people away from town though. There were still plenty of people milling around, visiting the shops, prepping the Town Center for the Christmas pageant that was scheduled to take place in two weeks, and yes, snapping cellphone pictures of the ruined bakery. Darcy sighed over that last one. Well. It wasn’t like they could hide it behind a giant curtain or something. People were going to see it.
On her way to the deli she considered stopping into the Town Hall to see Helen, but that would take time, and she’d already left Izzy alone at the bookstore for half the day. It wouldn’t be fair of her to take even longer when she’d just offered to get them both lunch. She would just have to find time to see Helen after work.
Although, she had to be home for Colby when she got dropped off after school. With a deep breath, she promised to find some time to see Helen, and soon. This whole mystery aside, the town had just lost something that had been a big part of Helen’s life for years. If she needed someone to talk to about what happened, then Darcy wanted to let her know she would be there for her.
The deli was even busier than usual during the noon hour. Clara Barstow’s sandwich and meat shop had expanded its offerings over the years and was never at a loss for customers anyway, but now that the bakery wasn’t there for people, all of those customers were coming here. The line was from the counter to the door, with most of the tables and even the stools at the counter taken up.
Well, Darcy thought to herself. This wasn’t going to do at all. She could walk home and make something for her and Izzy out of her refrigerator faster than she could get a couple of sandwiches here. There was the pizza delivery place over on Howard Street, too. Oh, they delivered. Perfect.
Clara caught her eye for just a moment from behind the deli counter where she was slicing turkey to keep up with the demand. They waved to each other, and Darcy shrugged apologetically. Clara winked at her. She understood.
Headed back down the street Darcy had a moment to wish she was still bringing her bicycle into town. She had figured once it got cold enough and the snow started to fall that she wouldn’t have any need for her trusty bike anymore, but she was wrong. Today would have been the perfect day for it, even if there was slush all over the roads.
Might also be a good time to rethink not owning a car of her own. Sometimes she worried, if something happened at school with Colby, how would she get all the way from here to Meadowood? Misty Hollow wasn’t big enough to have a school of its own, or at least it hadn’t been in the past. The town had grown quite a bit over the last few years so maybe they would get their own school soon. But for now all the kids from here went to Meadowood. If her daughter needed her during the day, how would she get there?
Grace was right. Now that she was a mother she needed to do things differently. Her daughter came first.
It was a brand new life that Darcy Sweet was living, so changed from when she and Jon first met and she had been free and single with nothing to tie her down. She was thinking about all the things that had happened between then and now, both good and bad, to bring her to this point in her life right here. She was thinking about all of that, when the dark figure of a man stepped in front of her on Main Street.
She had been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she hadn’t been paying attention to where she was going and now she startled backward a few steps. The man planted himself in her path, hands thrust deep into his pockets, a smile on his tanned face that did not touch his eyes at all. What she noticed first was the leather jacket he wore, with its unnecessary belt straps at the waist and the chest, and the zippered pockets. It was about twenty years out of style.
What she noticed next was the mess of chopped red hair, and the heavy sideburns that went all the way down to the bottom line of his square jaw.
When he saw that he had her attention he took his hands out of his pockets. On the back of each was the tattoo of a red, five-pointed star.
“Greetings there, Darcy Sweet,” the man said to her. “You should really watch where you’re going. Hate to interrupt your day like this, really I do, but it seems we need to talk. My name is—”
“Edmund Beres,” she finished for him.
She remembered the vivid description of this highly recognizable man from Bobbi Jo Cameron’s statement. This was the freelance criminal with ties to The Hand who Jon was looking to question. One of the five names on their list of suspects.
Guess she found him first.
He raised his ginger eyebrows. “Oh, so you’ve heard of me? Excellent. Makes things so much easier.”
“It does?” she asked, preparing to run or scream or fight.
“Yes,” he told her, “it certainly does. I just hate all that getting to know you stuff. Takes up so much time. Life’s much too short, know what I mean? So. I’m Edmund Beres. You’re Darcy Sweet. Now we can move on to the important things.”
Darcy tried not to be obvious as she looked all around them. She had walked to the farther end of Main Street, almost to the intersection with her own street, and there was no one else anywhere near them. Edmund had planned his little ambush well.
Not for the first time, she was really sorry she couldn’t carry a cellphone. But, since the choice was between ghosts calling her at all hours of the day or maybe needing to call 911 the next time a criminal thug appeared in front of her on a sidewalk, she’d have to be okay with having to scream her fool head off if Edmund tried anything.
He took a step closer, and Darcy forced herself to hold his gaze when what she really wanted was to bolt and run. Jon would be depending on her. Now that Edmund Beres had shown his face, Jon would want to know everything he could. It was up to her to get the man to talk.
Not that it seemed like that was going to be a problem.
“So glad I caught you away from everyone else,” Edmund told her. “I wanted to talk to you. About the fire at the bakery.”
“What about the fire at the bakery?” she asked, wishing she could get the lump that had formed in her throat to go away.
“Come now, Miss Sweet—”
“Mrs. Sweet,” she corrected him.
“Really? My bad, as they say. I thought Sweet was your maiden name.”
“It was. Is. I mean, it’s my name still, yes, but I’m married. To the police chief.”
He looked amused that she felt the need to add that little bit of information. “Yes. Jon Tinker. I was warned about him, I was. You too, actually. Seems if someone wants to step into Misty Hollow to do some business, they best be careful to tread lightly around the two of you.”
Well, well. Darcy didn’t realize she had that much of a reputation. “Did your friends in The Hand tell you that?”
With one more step, Edmund was too close for Darcy’s comfort. She made herself stand her ground and not be intimidated even though her insides were suddenly full of butterflies.
“I am not,” he said to her through clenched teeth, “associated with The Hand. Not any longer. That organization and I parted ways a number of years ago. Yes, I’ve heard about what you and Chief Jon Ti
nker did to Adolphos Carino and yes, that’s one of the reasons why fine upstanding folks like myself know to stay out of your little town. The kind of business I usually conduct would not meet with your approval.”
“You mean,” Darcy asked him directly, “like burning down bakeries?”
Slowly, his smile returned. This time it lit the corners of his steel gray eyes. “Now, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, that exact thing.” He stepped back from her finally, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. “I didn’t have anything to do with that fire, Miss… I mean, Mrs. Sweet. I wanted to come and tell you in person so’s you and the Chief would stop looking for me. My business is going to be very hard to conduct if I have the law and some modern day Agatha Christie on my trail.”
That was apparently all he had to tell her. He didn’t have anything to do with the fire. What, was she just supposed to take his word for it? This wouldn’t be the first time someone had lied to her.
He stood there, waiting for her to say something. So she did. “Agatha Christie? I prefer Nancy Drew, actually.”
He measured her with his eyes, from the toes of her boots to the top of her head. “You’re just a bit too old to be Nancy Drew, aren’t you?”
Darcy gasped. Too old to be…? Who did this man think he was?
Oh, right. He was a freelance criminal. That’s who he was.
“Listen, Mister Beres,” she said to him. “I’m sure you have your reasons for detaining me on a sidewalk to tell me all of this instead of just walking down to the police station and telling them in person, but—”
“I do, actually.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Might be there’s a warrant out for my arrest. Might be there’s more than one. Besides. Police stations make me itch. Not in a place I can scratch in mixed company, either.”
Oh, she did not like this man. “Why don’t you and I go there together. I’ll even hold your hand, if you need me to,” she suggested, shifting her feet so she was just a little further away from him. “We can talk to Jon together. You can explain to him why he should cross you off our list of arson suspects.”
“I just explained it to you,” he insisted.
“Actually, um, you didn’t. You just said you didn’t do it.”
“There. Then it’s settled,” he said, his smile turning icy. “Besides. As I said, I may have a warrant or two—or three—out for my arrest. I don’t care to be locked up in one of your police department cages, thank you very much.”
“Well, I could have Jon meet you somewhere,” she tried, reaching for anything that would help Jon in his investigation. “Sure. You two could meet and talk. Where are you staying in town?”
His eyes held hers. “You’re a crafty one, Mrs. Sweet, is what you are. I was told to watch out for you. Now I see why. Tell your police chief husband to keep his distance from me, and there won’t be any problems. My business in town is almost done. Afterward I’ll be gone. Just like that. No muss, no fuss, no famous Darcy Sweet interference. How’s that sound to you?”
“Like a threat,” she said, without missing a heartbeat.
“As you say.” Shrugging his shoulders again, he started backing away from her. “I’ve had my say. Good day.”
He was several yards away before he turned his back on her. Darcy didn’t want to let him get away but she wasn’t going to try tackling a man who was twice as wide as she was and half a foot taller to boot. By the time she ran to get someone’s help and called the police he’d be gone. All she could do was watch him go.
And, ask one more question. “How are you hiding in our town with that red hair?”
Without stopping, he reached inside of his coat and took out an aviator’s cap, leather on the outside and fuzzy padded on the inside. The flaps came down over his ears and effectively hid his hair and the sideburns, too. With his hands in his pockets to hide the tattoos, he would blend right in with the rest of the tourist crowds. A freelance criminal in their midst, and no one was going to even notice. Even if his clothes were from two decades ago.
Darcy ground her teeth together and turned herself back toward the bookstore. She would order her and Izzy delivery pizza and call Jon from her shop so she could tell him about meeting one of the suspects on their naughty list. She hadn’t learned much, but at least she would have a better description to give him, as well as his message.
He didn’t do it.
The question was, could they believe him?
Chapter Five
Jon hadn’t eaten lunch yet, either. He was very happy to find two pizza boxes with slices of pepperoni and veggie lovers still steaming warm in Darcy’s office.
“I take it the veggie pizza’s for you and Izzy?” he said, biting into a drooping triangle of cheese and pepperoni.
“Yes.” Darcy sat down with him on the couch in the crowded office space, moving some books to the floor that were supposed to have been put back on the stacks weeks ago. “I like to change it up sometimes. You can have a piece of it if you want. There’s more than enough here for just me and Izzy.”
“Uh, no thanks. I’m not a big fan of black olives on… anything. There’s soda in the fridge, right?”
Instead of waiting for her to answer he leaned across the little coffee table to the other side of the room where the dorm fridge sat on top of the filing cabinets. Darcy had tried rearranging the office several times but there just wasn’t much she could do to get more space out of it. Someone as tall as Jon could easily reach across from one side to the other to grab a can of cola from the fridge.
“So,” he said, popping the top on the can, “tell me all about our newest friend.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call him a friend,” she said.
“No. Neither would I. In fact, when I do catch up to him I may have to give him a message of my own. Stay away from my wife.” He took another bite of his pizza, chewing it a bit more forcefully than he needed to.
Darcy smiled at him, for his concern for her and the fact that she knew he would always protect her, even if she was a bit too old to be Nancy Drew.
After he swallowed the mouthful of pizza he chased it down with a long drink of soda. “Your sister already filled me in on your talk with Elizabeth. We’ll check out her story about the gambling, of course, but I guess for now she’s off our list. So. Let’s talk about Edmund Beres. I guess the warrants would explain why he’s hiding but I’m not ready to cross him off just yet. Not until I’ve had my own little chat with him. Any idea where we can find him?”
“No.” She hated to admit it, but he could be anywhere. “He’s still around town, I’m sure of it. Whatever this business is that he’s here for it isn’t done yet. He made it very clear that he wasn’t going to leave until he was done.”
“And that can’t be anything good.” He looked down at his pizza, and then set it back down in the box, his appetite gone for the moment. “Like when The Hand was in town searching for Izzy and Lilly. Wait, you don’t think…?”
“No.” That was actually Izzy who answered, standing in the door to the office. “Sorry, I was out here at the sales counter. I could hear you guys talking. No, I don’t think this is The Hand coming after me again. They gave up on me when my Ex couldn’t get parole and then Adolphos went to prison himself. No, I’m sure this is something else.”
Jon smiled at her. “Nice to see that I’m surrounded by such strong women. Still, Izzy, if you see or hear or smell anything that doesn’t feel right you’re going to call me or Darcy, right?”
She gave Darcy a knowing woman-to-woman look, but then nodded for Jon’s sake. “Yup. I promise. Darcy, I’m going to need your input on these purchases. Just, whenever you guys are done. No rush.”
When she was out front again, watching over the customers in the store and making recommendations and ringing up sales, Jon picked his slice of pizza back up for another bite. “Well, that makes me feel a little better, anyway. Although I’m not sure she really meant it when she promised that she would call us.”
He kissed her cheek. “I know you are. I lucked out when I married you.”
“Because I steal your pizza?”
“Because,” he said, snuggling closer to her, “you steal my pizza. And you keep me strong. And you gave us a wonderful, amazing little girl to love.”
“Oh. Yeah. Um, that reminds me that we have something else to talk about.” Reluctantly getting up from Jon’s side she closed the office door, smiling apologetically at Izzy but knowing that this was something that had to stay private. Closing the pizza boxes, she pushed stuff aside on the coffee table so she could sit on a corner of it in front of him. With her hands on his knees, she took a deep breath. “I found Colby in her room last night. She was, um, trying to do a spirit communication.”
“She was what?” he said, a little louder than the closed door would account for. He flicked his eyes in that direction then back to Darcy, repeating himself in a quieter voice. “She was doing a communication? Our little seven-year-old girl? You’ve told me how dangerous those can be and I’ve seen you after you’ve done some that left you out of breath and drenched in sweat… A spirit communication? How does Colby even know to do that?”
“Well, she’s watched me enough times.” Darcy chewed on the end of a fingernail, and then switched to twisting her aunt’s antique ring around her finger, and then finally settled her hands on his knees again just to keep them still. “Jon, it scared me, too. She’s fine, and the candle only burned the floor a little bit—”
“Burned the…? Are you saying she almost started a fire?”
