by K. J. Emrick
“I guess she has some other things to do.” Darcy tried not to be offended by the way Tiptoe had been acting towards her the last few days, but she missed having her friendly little kitten around. “Well, that leaves just you and me, Zane. What would you like to do today? Read some stories, or play with some toys maybe? I know Monkey Astronaut is on in a half hour and I know how much you love that show but what do you say we skip it today. Your daddy’s off finding proof to put a very bad man in jail and I need to keep in touch with him.”
Bracing her broken leg against the edge of the couch, she caught Zane under his arms and lifted him up, then down again in the high chair. She pushed him out to the kitchen again, having another little race with him all the way to the dining table.
“Badu,” Zane said as she parked the stroller next to the table. “Badu, badu.”
“You want your sippy cup? Thirsty work having your diaper changed, isn’t it?” She picked it up from the table where she’d left it. “Oh, honey, this is almost empty. Let me get you some more, and then maybe Mommy will have some more lemonade.”
She looked over at the computer screen. Jon had put the camera on the ground, a little off to the side, and she could only just see the shovels turning the dirt over. She couldn’t hear anything but she could see it all. They hadn’t found anything yet.
Darcy chewed on her lower lip. Shouldn’t they have found something by now? How deep would the grave be?
Zane babbled at her, reminding her about his sippy cup.
“Yes, little man. Coming right up.”
She hummed a song as she made her way carefully to the sink to give his cup a quick rinse. From there she had to hop her way to the fridge to get out the juice container, and balance everything while she filled the cup, and then put the juice back. Zane laughed at her performance, and she made a little stiff-legged bow before handing his badu to him.
“There you go. Now. Let’s get Mommy some more lemonade.”
This was going to require another dance and juggling routine. If nothing else, she was going to have really good balance by the time her cast came off.
She was reaching for her nearly empty glass when she heard the knock on the door.
“Mrs. Tinker?” a familiar voice called to her through the door. “I believe we had an appointment to speak.”
Oscar Bismuth, the owner of the Lockbox Firm, was here at her front door.
Obviously he’d done more research into her life than she’d given him credit for if he knew where she lived. Darcy caught herself, just barely, from saying several words that Zane should not be hearing at his tender age. The plan had been to wait until Oscar called her, and then arrange to meet with him somewhere in town later. She had not expected him to show up on her front steps.
Maybe she could just pretend she wasn’t home. He couldn’t see them through the curtain over the window in the door. Sure. As long as they were very quiet he might think they weren’t even here.
With a clatter of plastic, Zane dropped his sippy cup to the floor.
Oscar knocked again.
“Thanks, little man,” Darcy whispered to her son.
Zane smiled and clapped his hands together, obviously very pleased with himself.
“Just a minute,” Darcy said in a loud, pleasant voice. No sense in trying to hide now. “I’ll be right there.”
“Take your time, Mrs. Tinker,” he said through the door. “I’m sure it’s not easy to get around in that cast.”
When she opened up for him, she kept her smile firmly in place. “It’s Sweet, actually.”
He blinked, obviously not following. “Excuse me?”
“My last name is Sweet, not Tinker. I kept my name when I married.”
“Really?” He seemed surprised that a woman would want to ever do such a thing. “How… forward thinking of you.”
“That’s what everyone says.” Seriously, how many times in her life was she going to hear that? “Um, Mister Bismuth, isn’t it?”
“Please,” he told her, holding out his hand for her to shake. “Call me Oscar.”
“And you can call me Darcy.”
She took his hand, looking down at him from a few extra inches of height as he finally stepped over her threshold and she could close the door. He was a lot shorter than she expected, especially with that booming voice. His thick wavy hair was set in place with a gel that left it shiny and smooth. His suit probably cost as much as the bookstore made in a month, and the watch on his wrist probably cost twice that.
He radiated a sense of power and influence, and not necessarily in a good way.
Second thoughts began to creep into Darcy’s mind. This man looked the part of a smooth criminal. He wasn’t the first one she’d seen of that type. Add in all the things that Jon had found out about criminal ties to the Lockbox Firm and maybe she really had been looking at things the wrong way.
Maybe she’d been too quick to accuse Matt Courson of being the killer. Marcia Faber had worked for this man Oscar, and he’d obviously been worried enough when Darcy started asking questions about the missing girl that he came all this way just to talk to her. He’d made sure to come to the house when she was alone, too. Whatever he had to say must be very important.
So wasn’t it possible that someone at the Lockbox Firm—perhaps even this very brazen man standing in her kitchen—had killed Marcia?
Yeah. Darcy didn’t like this one little bit.
“Mister Bismuth… er, Oscar,” she amended, using the man’s first name like he’d asked her to. “This isn’t a good time. I was just taking care of my son. My husband will be back soon and we had plans. Maybe later today?”
“Oh, hey, look at that little guy,” Oscar said, ignoring the lie Darcy had just told him about Jon. “I just love little kids. Family’s real important.”
Without waiting to be asked he went over to the high chair and knelt down on the floor. Picking up the sippy cup, he handed it to Zane.
“Here you go, big guy. Drink up. You need to get big and strong for when you get older.”
Darcy wanted to pick Zane up, and protect him from this man and anything he might say, but she couldn’t. Not with her leg like this. She was completely vulnerable.
She looked over at the laptop computer. Well… she might be defenseless, but she wasn’t alone.
Stepping quickly around to that side of the dining table, she sat down. She rested her hand right at the edge of the keyboard, as casually as she could, and then let her finger press the space bar.
Turning the audio back on.
The down arrow key turned the volume off on her side. Jon would be able to hear everything going on here, but nothing they said or did would be audible. Oscar would never know he was being listened in on. It made her feel a little better, although she knew that even if Jon did hear something happen, there would be no way he could get here in time to do anything about it. Not from Rose Lake.
Oscar smiled at Zane again and then sat down across from her at the table. She turned the laptop so that the screen was facing away from him.
“Well. Enough of that.” Oscar smiled at her and drummed his fingers on the table. “My manager, Akalia Bastion, told me about a phone call she got. That’s why I’m here. I think you wanted to ask someone about young Marcia Faber.”
With an effort, Darcy met the man’s hard gaze directly. “But it wasn’t me who called your firm. That was my husband, Jon Tinker. You know. The police chief here in town.”
He quirked an eyebrow at that. “Yes, Darcy. I know who your husband is.” His drumming fingers stopped. “But, you see, part of what we do at the Lockbox Firm is security investigations and, upon further investigation, we found out that it’s you who’s the real sleuth in the family. Got all those newspaper articles about you to prove it. I think one of them called you an amateur Nancy Drew.”
Darcy winced. She remembered that article, written by the very tenacious Brianna Watson. In fact, Brianna had made her career off stories like t
hat from Misty Hollow. Now she was off doing television work for a national primetime news agency and Darcy wished her well, because it would mean they would never see her in town again. Ever.
“I think,” she said, “that Nancy Drew was already an amateur, so that would have made me an amateur amateur, which I’m not sure is a good thing.”
Oscar looked at her for the longest time, and then threw his head back and laughed out loud. Zane gurgled a laugh with him, less shaken by this man’s odd behavior than Darcy was.
Once he had control of himself again, Oscar wagged a finger in Darcy’s direction. “That is good. Oh, yes, that is. I’m going to have to remember that. An amateur amateur. My, my. At any rate, we both know it’s you who is interested in the disappearance of Maria Faber. I just want to make sure that there is no doubt in anyone’s mind that my firm had nothing to do with that. Some of our clients… well, they would not benefit from any sort of public inquiry into this. So please, let’s keep it private.”
He leaned over the table, managing to make himself look taller, and more menacing. “Just between you and me,” he said, “I’m assuming that some new information has come to light? That’s why you’re interested now after three years?”
Darcy leaned in as well. She saw Zane watching them both with keen interest. “Oscar, why do you care? If your company is innocent of any wrongdoing, why does it matter?”
That question hit home. He sat back from her again, waving his hand through the air while his face frowned. “You know how it is, Darcy. Even a single whiff of trouble around our company can cost us millions of dollars as investors back away, and clients suddenly find their interests lay somewhere else. That sort of thing. Now, we never came right out and told Marcia that she had to go. That was her own choice.”
That piece of information hung in the air between them like a fly buzzing loudly off key, holding Darcy’s attention and refusing to let it go. What they had been told so far was that Marcia had been working at the accounting firm, and they loved her, and they were just as surprised as anyone that she went missing.
Now came this revelation… Marcia had planned to leave the Lockbox Firm before she disappeared.
Interesting.
“So tell me,” she asked, trying to make it sound like she already knew all about this, “why exactly did she leave, then? If no one in your company had anything to do with her disappearance, then why are you here?”
His frown turned serious. “I’ve already told you why I’m here, Darcy. I want my company name cleared. As to why Marcia left us, I’m sure you already know the answer to that. She was pregnant, and she wanted to be a full-time mother. I can respect that.” His glance went to Zane, and he almost smiled. “Anyway. I wish she had stayed, actually. We loved her. She was a great secretary. Always anticipating things before we asked. Always working long hours whenever we needed her to. Anything we asked, she did. No questions, no complaints. I wish I had a hundred just like her.”
Darcy didn’t say anything to that. She was processing everything he’d just said. Marcia had been pregnant. Marcia was pregnant when she disappeared… no. She was pregnant when she died.
That had to be part of the reason she died. The timing was too much of a coincidence otherwise. If Marcia had been pregnant, then the father would be… the boyfriend.
Matt Courson. Everything led right back to him.
Shifting in his seat, Oscar cleared his throat uncomfortably. He’d mistaken her silence for more than it was. He thought she knew something she wasn’t saying. She didn’t. He’d already said more than she had ever guessed. Sometimes silence said more than words ever could.
He coughed into his hand. “Look. I know the reputation my company has. Yes, we handle accounts for some very big names. Some of them are maybe less than squeaky-clean. That does not make me or anyone who works for me a criminal. Not by any stretch of the imagination. What we do is all legal, and all above board. That’s why the IRS has investigated our company twice now only to find out exactly nothing. There’s nothing to find. We’re good people. So was Marcia. If something happened to her, you’re looking in the wrong place if you’re looking at us.”
Darcy couldn’t be sure he was telling the truth. He could very well be lying, and Marcia could very well have seen something at the Lockbox Firm, in one of those “less than squeaky-clean” accounts, that got her killed. However, sitting with him now, she didn’t get the feeling that he was lying. She sensed that he was being honest.
Her instincts were usually right. It was part of her gift, and she’d learned to trust it.
Zane spit bubbles between his lips and reached up with clasping fingers for Oscar. Darcy smiled as the owner of the Lockbox Firm leaned over and shook the little boy’s hand. Zane trusted him. Darcy wondered if she should trust him, too.
Before she had a chance to answer that question for herself the door opened at the far end of the kitchen. No knock. No warning. It just opened.
She tried to get up but couldn’t because of the cast. She was grabbing for her crutch, the only thing within reach that even came close to a weapon, when she realized there was nothing to worry about.
Sergeant Sean Fitzwallis stood there, his police uniform hanging loosely off his thin frame and sloping shoulders. His eyes took in the scene quickly before striding inside. “Let go of the child, sir, and stand up for me please.”
Oscar scowled at Sean. Darcy had known the old desk sergeant for as long as she could remember and she knew he wasn’t going to back down just because someone looked at him funny. When Sean stood his ground, Oscar sat up and turned his look on Darcy. “You called the cops?”
“Actually,” Sean said to him, “no, she didn’t. I just happened to be passing by and as I’m a friend of Darcy’s, I figured I’d come in to say hello. Saw you with our young Mister Zane here, and I don’t know you, so naturally I’m a bit protective. I also think I asked you to stand up.”
Sean had one of those faces that looked timeless. Even his full head of white hair didn’t make him look old. He was a force to be reckoned with when he wanted to be, no matter how frail he might seem.
Once upon a time, Sean Fitzwallis had been in love with her Great Aunt Millie. She’d chosen another man to give her heart to, but Sean still felt protective of Darcy. He’d been watching over her since she moved here to Misty Hollow. Just like he was now.
“It’s okay, Sean,” she told him. “Oscar isn’t here to cause trouble.”
Oscar agreed. “Definitely not. I’ve said what I came to say.” His scowl slipped away as he stood up, and straightened his shirt, and then stuffed his hands in his pockets. “No worries, officer. I’m just leaving. Unless you want to keep me here and ask me some questions? Always happy to cooperate with the police.”
Sean looked to Darcy for confirmation, and waited for her to give a bare nod of her head before stepping aside and waving Oscar toward the door. “Sir, you have a nice day. You want I should give you a ride back to town?”
“No need, officer. My feet work just fine, and town isn’t that far away.”
Without looking back at either of them once, Oscar left, whistling a tune as he went. It took Darcy a moment to recognize it as I Fought The Law.
“Charming company you’re keeping,” Sean said to her as he closed the door.
“Yeah, and I thought people such as yourself weren’t supposed to lie.” Darcy finally put the crutch down so she could reach over to stroke Zane’s hair. She needed to let him know everything was okay and the grownups were just being silly after all.
Sean took the seat that Oscar had vacated. “Mmm-hmm. I see. And of course, by people such as me, you mean dedicated police officers, right?”
“Of course,” Darcy said pleasantly. “What else would I possibly mean?”
He winked at her, but didn’t bother saying anything else about that particular subject. “Well, I was telling a fib, I suppose. I didn’t happen to be just driving by. Jon called me and said you might need
help. Got here soon as I could.”
“Thanks, Sean. Oh.” Now that he mentioned Jon, she remembered the laptop. Turning the computer around again she tapped the up arrow until the volume was at its fullest. “Jon? Did you hear all of that?”
His face was in the screen instantly, the image wavering as he held the camera in his hands. “We heard it all, Darcy. Hey, Sean, thanks for getting there so fast.”
“Any time, Chief.” Sean leaned into the camera’s field of view long enough to toss a salute with two fingers. “I’m just glad to help.”
“I know. Darcy, listen, we heard it all, and I don’t think anything that was said rules Oscar Bismuth out as a suspect.” The camera angle bounced as he juggled it from hand to hand and wiped sweat off his forehead. “He’s got all the right answers but that doesn’t mean he isn’t involved, or maybe covering for someone else at his company. But for now, we’re going to focus on Matt Courson. When we get back to town we’ll be arresting him for murder.”
“You think you have enough?” Darcy asked him.
“Yeah, I think so. With everything we’ve learned up to this point it all makes sense. The necklace, Marcia being pregnant… then there’s what we found here.”
He turned the camera around, and aimed it at the ground they’d dug up with their shovels.
Several feet underground, they had uncovered something wrapped in thick, clear plastic. Darcy saw immediately that it was a body. Jon walked up the length of the grave they’d uncovered and put the camera down closer to the face so Darcy could see it through the protective covering. Even after being in the ground for three years there was no doubt who it was. She looked exactly like her ghost.
Marcia Faber.
They’d found her, right in the very spot that Matt Courson had mentioned.
Darcy sighed. Sometimes the mysteries solved themselves. Now, at least, Marcia could find peace while her killer went to prison.
Sean put his hand over hers. “It’s never easy, is it? For you, I mean. Walking between two worlds and making a life for yourself in both.”
“If it was easy,” she told him, “everybody would do it.”
