A Darcy Sweet Mystery Box Set Six

by K. J. Emrick

  Great. As if Bruce didn’t already have enough reason to be angry at her.

  If he was Helen’s killer, however, she couldn’t care less about his feelings.

  If he wasn’t—please God, let that be the case—then she could always apologize later for what she was putting him through.

  Jon sighed and set the plastic bag aside on the table. “I should run this into the station right now, so we can send it out to the State Police crime lab. I’ve just been running nonstop the past few days.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing his fingers there, and looking very tired. “I just want to sit and relax for an hour or two. Where is that pizza guy?”

  “Why don’t you go ahead and bring the award to your office,” Darcy suggested. “The sooner you send it out, the sooner we can get the answers you need to pursue this. I’ll keep the pizza warm for you. Whenever it gets here, that is.”

  He sighed and stretched his arms out wide. “Yeah, I suppose I should. No rest for the wicked, after all. Or the police, either.”

  “Daddy?” Zane asked. He was standing at the safety gate now, his hands fisted through the plastic mesh. “I’m hungry. P’za?”

  “It’s coming, buddy.” Jon walked over and scooped him up, bouncing him in his arms a few times. “Can my big man wait a little longer?”

  “Um,” Zane debated, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth. Then he shook his head. “Uh-uh.”

  Jon and Darcy laughed. He was being so serious about it. “I think,” Darcy said, “that we need to get him something to eat right away. Maybe some of his cereal snacks until the food arrives.”

  Zane made a face. “Want p’za.”

  “So do I,” Jon agreed. “We’re kind of at the mercy of the delivery guy for the pizza.”

  “What’s mursee?” Zane asked.

  “It’s when you ask somebody to please do something,” his father answered, “but then you have to wait for them to do it. Like, when I ask you to pick up your toys, there’s a mercy period before it happens.”

  “I’ll say,” Darcy chuckled.

  Cha-Cha had been watching them from the doorway. Now he stood up with his front paws braced against the safety gate and let out one loud bark.

  Darcy was surprised. It was the loudest she’d heard him be since coming to stay here with them. She wondered if that meant he was becoming comfortable here in their house. But what was he barking at?

  Zane reached out a hand to her, putting his fingers against her cheek. “Cha-Cha’s hungry too.”

  “Is that so?” Darcy asked, amused at how her son was trying to translate what the puppy was saying. “Well, I think he deserves some supper, too.”

  Cha-Cha grumbled.

  Zane clapped his hands. “Cha-Cha wants p’za too. Can he has some? Can he?”

  “Uh, no.” Jon looked down at the dog begging for his supper. “Dogs don’t get pizza. Dogs get kibble. If they’re really good dogs, they get gravy on the kibble.”

  “Ew.” Zane’s face scrunched up. “Don’t like gravy and kibbuh.”

  Cha-Cha whuffed his agreement.

  Darcy smiled at the whole scene and walked over to where her car keys were hanging on the hook next to Jon’s, over by the door. “I tell you what. Rather than wait for them to find time to deliver here, I’ll go out and grab the pizza myself.”

  “Are you sure, Darcy?” Jon asked her. “I was going to go out to the police station anyway, remember?”

  “I know, but you’ve got Zane now and I think he’s happy where he is. Don’t worry about it.” She jangled the keys until they rang like bells. “I’ve got this.”

  The pizza place in town had opened just a few years ago. It was just a small building on a little side street off Main, with a hand painted sign featuring a big-bellied man in a white apron spinning a circle of dough above his head. The name of the business, “Chef Marios Pizzeria,” was written in black above the man’s head, the letters slightly uneven and the apostrophe missing. It looked like a hole-in-the wall, but it was doing pretty well for itself. Darcy supposed when you were the only pizza place in a small town like this, you pretty much had a monopoly on the market.

  The pizza was actually really good. It was the delivery that was iffy at best.

  Darcy figured that going to get the pizza herself was the safest bet. Delivery from Chef Marios was only available between six and nine at night, and only Monday through Thursday. The delivery driver was Donnie Akers, the same guy who operated the only taxi service in Misty Hollow. He was quite the entrepreneur, for a kid just a few years out of high school who had never gone to college. The taxi ran mostly during the weekends for the tourists, and November and December were slow months for him. His second gig at the pizza place helped supplement his income through the winter.

  That is, when he delivered on time.

  His car, an old Chevy HHR, was notoriously unreliable, but then again so was Danny Akers. When he was driving a taxi for tourists they wanted him to go slow, so he could point out the several historical sights around town, including several places where notorious murders had taken place. The graveyard out on Applegate Road was supposedly a highlight of the tour. Danny had never quite caught on that when he was delivering food to people he needed to switch gears to get to people’s doorsteps as quickly as possible. In fact, it was fifty-fifty whether Darcy was going to pass him headed to their house with their order or find him still sitting in the restaurant with a half ham, half extra cheese pizza cooling at his elbow with Darcy’s name on the box.

  As she drove, her mind went over the clues and the information they had learned about Helen’s death. She knew it was a murder. She might not be able to prove it in a court of law with what she had but it was still true. She’d thought Jon was convinced of that, too, but obviously he needed more. All Darcy had was information from a ghost, and a discussion with a dog in her dreams. That, the page from Carson Everly’s day planner, and the award in Bruce’s trash.

  What did it add up to?

  Jon was right. All of that put together wasn’t going to prove anything to anyone. The coroner would find evidence that Helen was strangled, and Jon would confirm or bust the alibis of their two suspects. Then they would have the kind of proof they could take to court. Until then, they were just spinning their wheels.

  “Oh, Helen,” she whispered. “You didn’t deserve this. You deserved a happy ending to your story. I guess all we can hope for now is justice. I don’t suppose you might want to tell me the name of your killer after all?”

  In her car, driving down Main Street, the only thing that answered her was silence.

  But then she saw a light up ahead in a window.

  Darcy slowed her car and pulled it over to the curb. That was the Town Hall. All the windows should be dark. It was well after business hours. The sun was setting in a multicolored November sky, and every good civil servant employed by Misty Hollow was no doubt at home with their families, talking about what a tragedy it was that the mayor had died.

  And yet, there was a light on in the Town Hall.

  What was more, that window was the mayor’s office. Helen’s office.

  She tapped her thumbs against the steering wheel as the engine idled. It might be the cleaning lady, she supposed. It might be that someone had just left the light on. Like Helen’s assistant.

  The smart thing to do would be to drive away and not worry about it. Nothing could possibly be going on in there that concerned her.

  Except it was Helen’s office. That concerned her.

  She got out her cellphone, wishing that she could just make a call with it. This would be the perfect time to have that ability. She knew that would lead to a bunch of spam calls from ghosts, however, which was worse than getting calls from telemarketers. Texting would do just fine for now.

  Are you at home? she tapped out with her thumbs.

  It was just a moment before her sister Grace texted back. Late dinner in with the fam. What’s up?

  Once upo
n a time, Darcy would have just charged into a situation like this. She would have just dove right in to discover what was going on and then told Jon and everyone else about it afterward. But she had Colby and Zane to think about now. She had a cat with a chip on her shoulder who needed Darcy’s love, but needed to keep her distance at the same time. Not to mention, now she had a puppy dog who needed constant attention. Sometimes it was the better part of valor to ask for help, or however that saying went.

  This was what being an adult felt like.

  I’m at the Town Hall, she typed out to Grace. Left Jon at home with the kids or I’d text him. Need you to come here. Someone’s inside.

  She was expecting Grace to argue. Her sister loved to argue. Instead, her phone vibrated and displayed just three words.

  On my way.

  Darcy sighed in relief. Her sister was the best.

  Then again, it was going to take Grace a few minutes to get here even if she drove like her usual speed demon self. Whoever was in the Town Hall might be gone by then and if it was related to the mystery of Helen’s death then they might lose their chance to find out what they were up to.

  It could be Carson Everly, looking to get rid of any further evidence that he and Helen really did have a meeting the night she died.

  It could be Bruce Turner, looking to hide evidence of his motive.

  What could his motive be? There really wasn’t one for him, as far as Darcy could see. There was always the possibility that this was a crime of passion, that Bruce had gotten into some sort of heated argument with Helen that had ended in a horrible mistake.

  The award, swung like a club, hitting the back of Helen’s head. Bruce, in a panic, bringing Helen upstairs to bed in her clothes. The award, bagged and dropped in the garbage and a lame story about being out with a friend.

  Darcy’s imagination could build the whole scene, but it just didn’t play out as real for her. Bruce loved Helen. Love was eternal.

  Besides, none of that fit with the Helen she knew. Darcy had hardly ever seen Helen raise her voice, and she’d never seen her in a heated argument with anyone. Then again, you never knew what was going on behind closed doors at your friends’ houses.

  So it was possible. Wasn’t it?

  Round and round her thoughts went again, leading her on an endless spiral of what-ifs.

  A shadow moved across the window of Helen’s office.

  Darcy pinched her lips together and yanked the keys out of the ignition. She couldn’t wait for her sister to get here. She was going to go inside.

  The Town Hall was usually locked after hours. Of course, that was when it was empty inside and everyone had left for the day. This time when Darcy tried the handle of the heavy wooden door, it opened to her easily, swinging open silently on well-oiled hinges. Thank goodness for bureaucratic efficiency. Whoever was in Helen’s office would never hear her coming.

  Down the carpeted hallway she tiptoed softly. Thinking of tiptoeing made her think of her cat, and then of her cat’s father Smudge, who had always been there for her when she was investigating a mystery. That cat had saved her life more times than she could count. Not that she thought her life was going to be in need of saving now, but it would have been so nice to know that he was still around, still there if she needed him, instead of just a ghostly presence in her dreams.

  The door to the mayor’s office was on her left. It was open.

  Taking a deep breath, she stepped around the edge of the doorway, and peered inside.

  A woman stood there with her back to Darcy. She was maybe Darcy’s size, wearing a pair of black slacks and a smart blue top. Her bottle-blonde hair was loose around her shoulders. At the moment she was hunched over the desk in the outer office, pushing aside papers, folding others into a leather satchel, and tossing still others into a metal garbage can that had been dragged over by her feet.

  Darcy knew her at once, even from behind. She hadn’t had a lot of interaction with Lauren Long, other than as Helen’s assistant. Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure why she and Lauren hadn’t become friends over the years. The woman had been working for Helen all this time, and they barely ever spoke to each other. Just exchanged smiles, or a few words on the phone if Darcy had called to talk with Helen. That was just the way it sometimes, she supposed. You knew some people but didn’t really get to know them at all.

  Abruptly Lauren stopped what she was doing, and stood up, almost like she could sense someone was behind her in the room. Or, Darcy might have made some small noise that she’d been unaware of. Either way, Lauren turned around on her with a small stack of papers still in her hands. Her mouth had formed into a little circle of surprise while her penciled brown eyebrows shot up comically high. When she saw it was Darcy she let go of the breath she’d been holding and laughed at her own nervousness.

  “Oh, Darcy, you scared me! Wow, I’m going to need to start closing and locking the front door if I stay here at night. I had no idea you were even in here. With everything that’s going on I’ll need to be more careful. Helen’s death has everyone on edge, doesn’t it?”

  She stopped herself as the weight of those words seemed to fill the room. Darcy felt foolish for giving Lauren a fright, and for bursting in here the way she had. Not to mention calling her police detective sister to come over and investigate a suspicious break in. One that turned out to be just someone who had every right to be here.

  “I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said, feeling foolish. “I saw the light on and I was worried. Like you said, everyone’s a bit on edge.”

  Lauren nodded her understanding and pushed her hair back behind one ear. “I was just here clearing out some papers. There’s going to be some big changes in Misty Hollow. Half of what Helen was working on will fall by the wayside, I’m afraid. Um. But I really think Carson Everly will make a good mayor, too. A great mayor, actually. He’s just going to do things in his own way.”

  Darcy wasn’t so sure about that. In fact, she was certain it could be one of the worst things that happened to their town in a long time. That did bring up another point, however. Jon had been trying to find Lauren Long to confirm Carson Everly’s story. Now, here she was, and Darcy had the perfect chance to ask the question.

  “Lauren,” she said, “were you here the night Helen died? Did you take a meeting with Carson Everly?”

  “Of course,” was the immediate answer. “We met here around nine, for about an hour. Why do you ask?”

  Darcy felt her heart sink. So Carson had been telling the truth. He’d taken that meeting with Lauren, instead of Helen. Although… if Carson had been here until ten, he still could have gone over to Helen’s place afterward. It’s not like he spent the night here with Lauren.

  He could still be the killer.

  “How did he seem when you talked to him?” Darcy pressed.

  Lauren cleared her throat. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “I mean, was he anxious, or angry, or did he say anything about leaving here and going over to Helen’s house?”

  Putting the stack of papers in her hands back down on the desk, Lauren moved over to stand next to Darcy. “He seemed fine. He was just himself. Nothing unusual. He has this kind of presence that fills up a room, you know? Big and powerful even when he’s just standing there not saying anything.”

  She leaned one shoulder up against a corkboard on the wall, where announcements and notices were pinned. Her hand brushed through her hair again. Her watch shifted loosely around her wrist.

  “I know he’s a big guy,” Darcy said, “but I’m talking about… well, did he seem distracted? Or angry?”

  Now Lauren’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking all of this?”

  Because a puppy dog and a ghost told me that Helen was murdered, Darcy almost blurted out before she stopped herself. “It’s just that I think there’s something strange about Helen’s death,” she decided to say instead. “My husband does, too. He’s having the coroner look into it.”

/>   “Your husband, the police chief?”

  “Yes. This is a police investigation now.”

  Lauren stared at her blankly before bursting out with a harsh laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

  Darcy didn’t think this was a laughing matter at all. “Yes, I’m serious.”

  “And you think Carson Everly had something to do with it? Oh, Darcy, you’re so far off base. Carson is a good man. I know, I know, everyone hates him because he was running against Helen in this election and everyone loved Helen, oh yes. Everybody loved her, so they automatically hate him. But if you just give him a chance you can see… he’s really sweet.”

  Her hand feathered back through the long strands of her hair once again.

  This time, Darcy really noticed the watch. The gold band was slim, designed for a woman, but the black face with its diamonds at three, six, nine, and twelve was incredibly similar to another one she had seen recently. So was the etching on the band. Carson Everly had been wearing a man’s version of this same watch. It was like they’d been bought from the same store, by the same person, and then given together as gifts…

  Oh, for Pete’s sake!

  Darcy suddenly remembered what Carson had told her about his watch when she’d seen him at her bookstore. “Gift from my girlfriend. I really think it captures my essence, don’t you?”

  “You’re dating Carson Everly!” The words came rushing out. She couldn’t believe it. Helen’s assistant was dating her opponent!

  Lauren slumped against the wall. “That was a secret. How did you know?”

  “I recognized the watch you’re wearing. That was kind of daring, wasn’t it? The two of you wearing matching pieces of jewelry like that? If you were trying to keep it secret, you probably should have found a less obvious token of your affection.”

  “Fine. So now you know,” Lauren shrugged. She tried to act like she didn’t care but Darcy could tell from her expression how much it worried her that this secret might get out. “So what? When two people love each other you do things for the other person, right? I mean, anything at all. That’s what love is all about.”