by K. J. Emrick
“Steve,” she said, “you were a completely useless human being. But maybe you’re not such a bad ghost.”
One of his eyes popped open, and something like a smile touched his lips.
He vanished altogether, and Darcy felt him passing over permanently into the next place.
She stayed where she was, staring at the spot where he had been just moments ago, too surprised to react. She was mad, and she was confused, and she was… furious. How dare he cross over that easily? He’d killed her ex-husband, and then Darcy had to help Jeff cross over. That had been emotionally draining for her. It had been the right thing to do but that didn’t make it any less painful. It wasn’t fair. Steve had done horrible things for selfish reasons. Why did he get to find peace so easily?
Deep in her heart she wanted every moment of that man’s existence—living or dead—to be filled with pain.
She forced herself to take a breath, and close her eyes, and listen to the stillness. It wasn’t fair. No, it wasn’t. At the same time, it wasn’t her choice. She reminded herself that she wasn’t God. She didn’t get to decide who got punished for their sins, or what the punishment would be.
It still sucked.
Slowly, she opened her eyes, and found herself sitting in the living room again with Tiptoe looking up at her curiously. The communication was over. Steve was gone.
Tiptoe put one paw up on Darcy’s chest, and sniffed her face.
“Yes, little cat,” Darcy told her. “You did good. Smudge would be proud if he could see you now.”
Tiptoe looked at her for a long time, and then pushed up on her back feet and touched her nose to Darcy’s. It was a thank-you of sorts. Darcy picked her up in her arms, and held her close, just for a moment. When she let go, Tiptoe jetted off across the living room to the stairs, and up to the second floor. Not bad, for their first spirit communication together.
The house phone rang, and she hurried to put the candles out before picking the receiver up from its base and pushing the answer button. “Hi, Jon,” she said right away.
She could hear the surprise in his voice. “Uh, how’d you know it was me? Caller ID?”
“No, I just knew that you’d be calling.”
“Oh? Well, I guess that’s what I signed up for when I fell in love with a psychic.”
“I’m not a psychic,” she laughed.
“What you are, is beautiful.”
“Mmm. I’ll take that.” Everything that had just happened in the communication, and what she had figured out, was bubbling in her brain. She wanted to tell him everything, but she decided taking just a moment for herself to accept that nice compliment wasn’t asking for too much. “Why am I beautiful today?”
“Because,” he told her in all seriousness, “you tipped us off about Jess O’Conner. We found her, sure enough, trying to leave town.”
“Wow. Good job. You’re going to keep her there at the station, right?”
“Of course. Right down there in the cell next to the one Nash Fullerton is currently cooling his heels in.”
“Good. Can you keep her there and come home to watch the kids?”
“Uh, I suppose so. I’d kind of like to ask her some questions first.”
“That may have to wait. I don’t think we have the full story yet.”
She could almost hear him considering that in his mind. “I suppose you’re going to explain that to me?”
“Uh-huh,” she said proudly. “Just as soon as you’re home.”
“All right.” She heard him chuckling, and she swore he was rolling his eyes. “I can have Wilson watch over her for now, but we can’t hold her for too long without charging her with something.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem.”
“Ha. Now that’s what I like to hear. All right. So when I’m home tonight watching our kids where will you be?”
“I’ve got a date with a last will and testament. There’s a few questions that need to be answered.”
“You mean,” he said, “questions other than the questions I have for Jess O’Conner.”
“Exactly,” Darcy agreed.
Chapter 8
After Jon got home she told him all about what she suspected, based on what Steve’s ghost had shown her. He listened to everything she had to say, just like always, while Colby and Zane played in the living room. Izzy had brought them home just a few minutes before. There had been just enough time for Darcy to discuss a couple of things about the shop before Jon pulled in the driveway.
Izzy had waved and walked over to her house, and Darcy had started her story for Jon.
When Darcy was done talking, Jon leaned in close and kissed her forehead. “That’s the woman I married. You’re right. We’ll keep O’Conner at the station until you get the answers you’re after. That way we’ll know exactly what to say to Jess. You want me to come with you? We can get a sitter for the kids. We can call that Chandra Hart girl that Colby likes.”
“Chandra Haaaart!” Colby shouted from the living room. “Yes, please!”
“Hey now,” Jon said, leaning back in the kitchen chair to look into the other room. “Wouldn’t you rather spend the day with your dear old dad?”
Colby blinked at him and smiled in an almost completely convincing way. “Sure, that’s what I meant. Um. Yay, Dad! Right, Zane?”
“Yup, yup!” her little brother said, backing her up. “Dad, yup, Dad, yup.”
“Good to know,” Jon grumbled, “that I rank slightly higher than a teenage babysitter.”
“It was your own fault,” Darcy chided him. “You said her name.”
“Yeah, I really have to remember to watch what I say around little ears.”
“Not little!” Colby reminded him.
Jon leaned back in his chair. “Anyway. I can come with you if you want, Darcy.”
“No, Jon it’s okay.” Darcy really did want him to come with her, but she knew the kids needed time with their parents, no matter how much Colby might want to hang out with the much older Chandra Hart, so she could feel grown up and talk about makeup and boys. Both of which were strictly off limits for at least two more years.
She reminded Colby of that before she left. Her daughter had sighed in the most dramatic way and then looked up at her mother hopefully. “But maybe a little lipstick for my birthday?”
How could Darcy say no to that? She decided on a strong maybe, and the hug she got from Colby before leaving was like she’d just promised her the whole world.
Jon made his offer again as he walked her to her car, but she knew Jozelle and Althea would be a lot more willing to answer questions if it was her asking, and not the police. Most people would give up their entire life story to people they knew before they would ever answer anything for the cops. It was just part of the culture they lived in.
There was another issue to bring up in the conversation about Jon maybe retiring. The world wasn’t very friendly toward the police these days. It wasn’t like it had been when they were young. A profession that had been honored and respected was now being painted as one of abuse and misuse of power. It burned Darcy up to hear things like that. Especially when she thought of all the things that Jon had done in his career to help people. He’d risked his life, and sometimes for complete strangers. It was what he did, and who he was, and there were people out there who would hate him just because of his job.
He might be safer if he retired. Then again, Darcy could say the same thing about herself. She didn’t have to investigate mysteries, or talk to ghosts, or perform spirit communications.
As she drove, she caught her gaze in the rearview mirror. Yes, she did. Of course she did.
At the house on Lommers Street, Darcy parked in the short driveway behind Jozelle’s Volkswagen and beside a pricey black sedan. Their lawyer, no doubt. Like they’d said to Darcy earlier today in the bookstore, there was no one else to listen to the reading of Merlon’s will. It was just Jozelle and Althea now. Kind of sad, when Darcy thought about
it.
At the door she was met by a man who had dark skin and black hair and the darkest brown eyes she had ever seen in her life. If the expensive gray suit he was wearing didn’t let Darcy know that this was the sisters’ attorney, then the haughty smirk he met her with certainly would have.
“You must be Darcy Sweet,” he said in a rich basso voice. “Jozelle and Althea told me to expect you. We’re all gathered in the kitchen. Would’ve preferred to do this in my office up in Meadowood, but they insisted on doing it here.”
He sniffed, and mechanically wiped his fingers on the front of his suitcoat. Then he extended his hand to Darcy.
“I’m Terry Lucas. Good to meet you.”
Darcy took his hand and he squeezed it once before letting it go. That was all the time he had to spend on hello, apparently. She followed him down the hall and past the living room where Merlon’s hospital bed still stood up against the wall, a gravestone marking where he had died.
“Stink of death,” she heard Terry say. “This house still has the stink of death on it. Really wish we’d done this in Meadowood. Got a nice office up there. Nice, clean office where I do business. Well. Have to go where the money is, I suppose.”
Darcy couldn’t agree more.
In the kitchen they found Jozelle and Althea sitting at their table, both dressed today in black dresses that were different in style, but identical in color. They had teacups in front of them and a tray of butter cookies was in the middle of the table. The two of them beamed when they saw Darcy.
“There she is,” Jozelle said to her.
“Thank you so much,” Althea said, “for joining us. This will be so much better.”
“Now that you’re here, that is.”
“That’s what I said, Jozelle.”
Althea waved a hand at her sister. “You don’t say things right. You never have.”
“Oh, pish posh. Just go put the kettle on for tea, Althea.”
“Well someone has to, don’t they?”
Darcy smiled to see them like this. They were the best of friends, these two sisters. Just them against the world. As Darcy settled herself into a chair across from the sisters, Althea got up, and gathered her skirts about her as she made her way over to the stove. She got the kettle and brought it to the sink to fill it with water.
Terry sat at the head of the table. His papers and folders were already spread out there, just waiting for him to begin. He picked up a pen and began scribbling notes on a page. “Just about ready to begin,” he said, “now that Miss Sweet is here, that is.”
“Um, it’s Mrs. Sweet, actually,” she corrected him. “It’s okay. It’s a common mistake.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he said, obviously not really listening. “So. This should be fairly simple. I’ll lay out the terms of the will, and then after that, Jozelle and Althea, I’ll let you ask any questions you have. I’ll leave the actual will and testament with you, of course, so you can read it at your leisure.”
“How long have you been an attorney, Mister Lucas?” Darcy asked him.
His pen paused. He looked up at her. One thick eyebrow arched. “Are we going to ask the questions first, then?”
“Just making conversation. I do have several questions though, since you brought it up. I figured you would be the one who could answer them.”
Now his eyes focused on her with an intensity that was almost scary. “I did explain that I have to go back to Meadowood when we’re done here, right? Bit of a drive, so I would appreciate it if we didn’t take all night with this.”
“It’s not that far,” Darcy said cheerfully. “I promise I’ll be brief.”
He sighed, like a bull spotting the matador entering the ring. “What sort of questions, Mrs. Sweet?”
Jozelle put her cup down. “Yes. What sort of questions can you possibly have for our lawyer, dear?”
At the stove, Althea said, “I’ve got a question. Who would like cream and sugar in their tea?”
“Oh, I would,” Jozelle answered, raising her hand.
“You old coot,” Althea laughed in return. “You’ve already got your tea. This is for our guests.”
“I can’t have sugar in my own home?” Jozelle asked her.
“Fine, I’ll bring over the sugar. Just hold your horses.”
“Well, I’ll have to, won’t I? You’re slower than death on crutches.”
Darcy caught Terry’s annoyed expression. “Could we hold the questions to the end? Please? I just want to get through this. For Jozelle and Althea,” he added as an afterthought.
It was pretty obvious, at least to Darcy, that he just wanted to do what he had to in order to collect his fee, and then leave.
“I’ll make it quick,” she promised him again. “I was just wondering who else knew about the terms of Merlon’s last will and testament? Besides the people in this room, I mean.”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Terry said. He started shifting in his seat as he shuffled papers. “It’s not relevant, is what it is. Not relevant to anything. At all. Can we just get to the reading?”
“You’re in a real hurry, aren’t you?” Darcy smiled at him. “It is important. Believe me.”
“Would you mind telling me how?”
“Sure. The information in the will is the key to why Steve Nelson was murdered.”
A clatter of china cups and silverware drew everyone’s attention to where Althea was standing at the counter. “Clumsy,” she said, with an apologetic smile. “I dropped the tray. Just let me make up a new one.”
Darcy turned back to Terry. “I was just saying, the information in the will is the key.”
“That man’s death is not my concern.” Terry rolled his eyes over to Jozelle. “Uh, no offense, Miss Nelson.”
“None taken, dear,” she said, waving aside the whole issue. “Why don’t you open the will and read it for us. That might answer any of Darcy’s questions, don’t you think?”
“I suppose,” he humphed. “Kind of what I was trying to do before.”
“Tea’s ready,” Althea told them. “Here you go, Terry. Here you go, Darcy.”
“Thank you.” Darcy turned her cup in her hands, keeping her gaze on Terry. “Why didn’t you open the will before now, Mister Lucas?”
He had his tea halfway to his lips, but now he set it aside again. “Mrs. Sweet, if you’re going to be here, I’m going to have to insist that you keep your questions to the end.”
“That’s right,” Jozelle told her sweetly. “I’d like to hear what our dear father has left us.”
“I thought,” Darcy said to her, “that you were glad you didn’t have to take care of him anymore?”
Jozelle’s eyes went wide. Althea, sitting down again, put her hand to her chest. “Whyever would you say such a thing?”
“I’m sorry, that was the impression I got.” It wasn’t really, but she needed to make a point to Terry Lucas. “The two of you have been planning all of these activities now that he’s passed away. Joining my book club, and oh yes, gardening.”
The sisters looked at each other. “Gardening?” Jozelle asked incredulously.
“I believe we’re a little old to start a garden,” Althea said.
“Well, I have to admit I thought that, too,” Darcy said, holding her hands around her teacup. “But then Izzy… you know Izzy, right? My partner at the book store? She mentioned that you bought a few books on gardening.”
Jozelle blinked at her from behind her glasses. “Oh. Well yes, I suppose we did.”
“Keeping our options open,” Althea said.
“Just in case,” Jozelle said.
“In case we find time for such things,” Althea added.
Terry Lucas actually slapped his hand down on the table, sloshing a bit of his tea over the rim. He immediately pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped up the mess. “I’m sorry, but what in the world does this have to do with anything? I’m a busy man, and I have very little time in what is left of my day to si
t here and discuss things like gardening!”
“Then,” Darcy asked, having made her point, “why did you wait this long to open the will for Jozelle and Althea?”
“I didn’t,” he insisted. “I came over to their home as soon as their father died, if you must know. I wanted this business done then. They were the ones who insisted on waiting.”
There it was. She’d had to push Terry a little bit to get him talking but now that he was, his answers were exactly what Darcy had expected.
She turned to Jozelle, and then Althea. “Just like I thought.”
Jozelle fussed with a lace doily on the table. “Whatever do you mean, dear?”
“Yes,” Althea said right after. “What do you mean?”
Terry rolled his eyes again, blowing out an impatient breath and lifting his tea for a sip.
Darcy leaned across the table and put her hand over his wrist, stopping him. “I wouldn’t drink that, if I were you.”
The sisters were quiet for a change.
Terry stared at her, the lines along his forehead creasing deeper. “What are you talking about? First it’s books on gardening, and now I shouldn’t drink the tea? Why not?”
“Because these nice old ladies killed Steve Nelson. I’m betting they killed their father, too. With poison.”
Terry’s vexed expression evaporated, and now he looked at the cup in his hand like it was about to bite him. Very slowly, he put it down on the table, and pushed it away. Then he pushed it away further, just to be safe.
Darcy remembered that day the sisters had come to her house, uninvited, and then made her a cup of tea while she was outside with Brianna Watson. Poison. She had to wonder if she had flirted with death once again. That cup of tea had no doubt been poisoned, too. Just like the one in front of her.
She looked back at the sisters, waiting for them to react.
Jozelle shifted in her seat. “How can you say that, dear? We’re just two old women.”
“We wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Althea promised.
“How,” Jozelle asked, “could you ever believe we would kill someone?”
