Family Secrets (A Darcy Sweet Cozy Mystery #8)

by K. J. Emrick

  She gasped, her stomach turning sour. "It wasn't a hunch, and I didn't contaminate anything, and I found out who your killer is!"

  "So did I," he said back to her, his voice raised above hers. "That's why we're going to bring Richard in for questioning!"

  The sour feeling in her stomach turned to cold lead. "Oh. I didn't know that."

  "Of course not. You were off playing Nancy Drew. You should have at least told me what you were planning on doing. I could have been there with you to make it official or told you what a bad idea it was."

  "What? Since when do I need you to babysit me, Jon?" Darcy realized how quickly this conversation was going from bad to worse, but she couldn't stop herself. All of her frustration and hurt feelings that had been building up started pouring out of her, and she couldn't stop. "Maybe I would be better off without you!"

  Those words rang in the interview room and Darcy wished so very badly that she could call them back. They were out there, though, and truth be told they were a pretty accurate way of saying exactly how she felt.

  Jon stared at her. He didn't blink. He didn't move. That went on for so long that Darcy started shifting her weight from foot to foot and had to make herself stand her ground. It was like he was waiting for her to say something.

  When she didn't, he sighed and stood up again. He handed her the documents back that she had brought from Vivica Chartrand's house. "Here. Keep these. I can work around you getting evidence for us illegally. I already had the bank statements anyway, so I don't even need these. That wasn't what was bothering me."

  "Then why did you pull me back here?" Darcy asked. "You just wanted some place private to yell at me?"

  He sighed and almost looked sorry. "No. I didn't mean to yell. That's not why I brought you back here. It was about my sister."

  "Your sister?" Darcy said, pulling back her own anger, waiting for him to say more.

  "See," he said, "I've spent so long being angry at her, searching every face in every crowd hoping that I might see her again, even if I have to arrest her, that I guess I've grown kind of a blind spot when it comes to her. I can't see her as anything other than a criminal."

  Taking her hands with his, he pulled her to him, and wrapped his arms around her. "You were the only one here who believed she might be innocent. Thank you, Darcy. Thank you for helping us prove she isn't a murderer."

  It felt good to be held by him this way. It helped take some of the weight away that had settled around her heart in the last few days. Some of it. Not all, but some. She leaned into him and soaked up his warmth, breathed in his cologne and the smell that was uniquely him. She loved this man. Aunt Millie had been right. They needed to work something out, because she wasn't sure she could stand losing him.

  "Please don't take the job in Oak Hollow," she surprised herself by saying.

  His embrace shifted subtly. "Can we talk about it later?"

  That was definitely not the answer she had been hoping for. Worse, that was becoming a pattern with her and Jon. Somehow Darcy had the feeling there wasn't all that much "later" left for them. But she smiled anyway, and told him that it was okay with her, and took what she could get out of that moment.

  Chapter Twelve

  They couldn't release Aimee yet, of course. Not until they actually had a confession from Richard, or more solid proof than bank statements and a tie found in the backyard of Vivica's house. The tie could be sent away for testing at the State Police crime lab, of course, but that could take days to produce results. In the meantime, Richard could run away or have time to concoct a story.

  "All he has to say," Jon pointed out, "is that his mom cut herself peeling an onion for him to eat and since he was a good son he used his best tie to stop the bleeding."

  Yeah, right, he had added, but still they needed to get to him quickly. He pulled two uniformed officers off their desks and told them to come with him to assist in an arrest.

  Grace glared after him from her own desk. "Men," she grumbled. "I'm just as much of a detective as Jon is. But, I get pregnant, so here I sit."

  Darcy dropped down into the chair situated on the other side of Grace's desk. "Don't worry yourself about it," she said. "I think it has less to do with you being a woman and more to do with being my sister right now."

  Grace raised an eyebrow at her. "Yeah? What gives with you two, sis? I thought you and Jon were as close as two people could get. I was very happy for you. Ever since you got back from Ryansburg yesterday it's like you're walking on eggshells around each other."

  Was it really that noticeable? Darcy guessed it had been. She'd never been good at hiding her emotions. "We're working through some things," she decided to say. It was as good an explanation as any.

  "You mean, like getting married?" Grace pressed. "You mentioned that last night. Are you two going to tie the knot? Because I have to tell you, I wouldn't mind standing in as Maid of Honor. Oh. Hey, maybe you and mom could get married at the same time and I could be Maid of Honor for you both."

  "I think it's technically called Matron of Honor if you're already married," Darcy pointed out, knowing that hadn't been her sister's point at all.

  Their mother, Eileen, had come back into their lives just a few months back to declare she had found someone new and was getting married again. It had actually gone a long way toward fixing the hard feelings between the two sisters and Eileen. Having their mother reach out to them like that was a good first step, anyway, as far as Darcy was concerned.

  "You know what I mean," Grace said to her. "Seriously, what's with you and Jon?"

  Secrets. Veiled answers. Too many things, all at once. Darcy thought there was probably a dozen different ways she could answer her sister's question. They all amounted to the same thing. "Honestly, Grace, it feels like he and I are drifting apart. Every time I try to talk about it with him he just clams up and says he'll talk about it later."

  "Uh-oh," Grace said. "That's guy code for never."

  "Yeah, I know, and that's the problem. We can't just not talk about it. He's planning on moving to Oak Hollow, for Pete's sake. He's really, seriously considering it. So I'm just supposed to pack up everything and leave you and the bookstore and all of it behind so that he can go chase his dream and give me the joy of tagging along like a puppy dog on a leash."

  Grace's eyes grew a little wider. "Is that really the way you see it?"

  "Well, yes, kind of." Darcy hated that she was being so wishy-washy about it. She didn't want to leave Misty Hollow and the house she'd grown up in with Aunt Millie and all of her friends. But at the same time, she didn't want to lose Jon, either.

  It was looking more and more like she'd need to choose one or the other.

  "You know, sis," Grace tried, "this job he was offered in Oak Hollow is a good one. He talked to me about it a little bit. Oak Hollow isn't that far away, and you'll have more money than Millie's old book store ever brought you just from his salary increase. Well, sort of. Still, having money in the bank can take care of a lot of other problems."

  Darcy supposed that was true. Look what having money in her bank account had done for Aimee Tinker, after all. It was going to clear her of being a murderer.

  "So, what are you going to do?" Grace asked.

  "Do I have to decide now?"

  "Well. Soon, right? Oak Hollow won't hold that job out to him forever." Grace grimaced like she just thought of something. "I hope they don't hold this thing with his sister against him. He'll have to clear that up one way or the other before he goes over there. I mean, if he goes over there," she corrected herself hastily. "It's just a good thing that you helped us clear Aimee of being a murderer."

  Darcy sat bolt upright in her chair. Of course. How could she have missed it?

  "I have to go," she told Grace, standing and coming around to give her sister a hug. She patted Grace's belly as she let go. "You be good to my little niece."

  "Gah, I wish people would stop doing that." Grace smiled as she said it and Darcy knew
she was loving the attention. "It could be your nephew, you know."

  It could be, Darcy admitted to herself, but she had the feeling it was going to be a niece. On her way to the back of the police station, she forgot all about the mystery of what gender Grace's baby would be. She had just put another piece together in this puzzle of Vivica Chartrand's murder that she hadn't even realized was there.

  Just like the puzzle Millie had been working on in that dream, the picture was turning into something altogether different.

  There was a door that led out of the station from the back. Darcy had used it any number of times, even though they liked people to come and go from the front so the desk sergeant could keep track of who was in the building.

  She made it seem like she was going to go out the back door for Grace's benefit. What she was really about to do skirted a few more of the rules that Jon had already accused her of breaking. His harsh words still stung. Darcy didn't want to get her sister into trouble, too.

  At the back of the building was where the holding cells were. When there were a lot of people on duty, they were guarded by one and sometimes two officers, watching whatever unlucky soul had been picked up for shoplifting or drunk driving.

  On busy days like today, when there were already three people out of the building going to make a felony murder arrest, there just wasn't enough manpower in Misty Hollow's police force to watch a prisoner face to face. Closed circuit cameras kept a steady eye on the lockup at times like this. The image was sent directly to a monitor at the desk sergeant's station, the only officer guaranteed to always be there.

  Darcy knew from past experience where to sit across from the cells so that the cameras couldn't see her.

  Sneaking around the corner to where the cells were located in a short dead-end hallway with a bare cement floor and a damp smell, she stayed close to the wall, until she could sit on a low wooden bench facing into the cell where Aimee was being kept.

  Jon's sister was laying on the single cot in the room, an arm up over her face, still in the jogging pants and t-shirt that she had been arrested in. She hadn't noticed Darcy yet.

  Darcy very much wanted to do another reading on Aimee, to confirm what she had seen before. She wanted to see the old, dried blood on Aimee's hands to confirm her suspicions. She couldn't do it without physical contact, though, and she doubted the officers would just gladly open the cell up if she asked.

  "Hi," she said instead.

  Aimee jerked her head up, a quizzical look on her face. "Oh. It's you. Um, Marcy, right? You run the bookstore in town?"

  "Darcy," Darcy corrected. "And, yes, I run the bookstore. I also live with your brother."

  "So I heard," Aimee said as she sat up on the edge of the cot. "I hope the two of you are happy. God knows he and I never have been."

  Darcy had come back here with questions. Now she was sidetracked by that comment. "Never? You two were always, uh, fighting with each other?"

  Aimee nodded. "I'm sure you've seen it from living with him. Jon is a very hard person to get along with. Moody. Self-righteous." She frowned. "A total jerk more often than not. I can't believe I came here to ask for his help."

  Wow. Where should Darcy even begin with all of that, she wondered. "I love Jon. And yes, we make each other happy."

  Just not so much recently, she added to herself.

  Sighing, Aimee stood up and began pacing. "Well congratulations to you. If you're happy with him then you've managed to do something me and our dad could never do. I should have known he'd never listen to me if I came here."

  "You did wait two weeks before talking to him," Darcy pointed out. "And even then it was only because you were being arrested for murder."

  "Not like I planned it," Aimee shrugged.

  "Murder kind of follows you around, doesn't it?" Darcy pointed out.

  The look Aimee shot her could have made flowers wilt. "I didn't kill Vivica Chartrand."

  "I know that. I helped prove it to your brother just now."

  The heat slid away from Aimee's voice. "You…what?"

  "Sure. It wasn't you. It was her son Richard."

  Understanding shone in Aimee's eyes. "Of course. Vivica was always going on and on about having to cut the cord with someone. Those were her words. Somebody who should have grown up a long time ago, she said. Now that all makes sense. Her son, huh? That's harsh."

  Darcy had to agree with that. "But it's not like he killed his boss, or anything."

  Just like that, anger rose up in Aimee again. "Careful. That's an old wound you don't want to open up."

  "Seems like you have to open up about it," Darcy pointed out. "You're still wanted for that murder. We've cleared you of this one, but that other one isn't going away."

  Aimee turned her face away and stood with her arms crossed. "Jon will help me out. You just said you two are close, right? And you don't think I did it, so he'll believe you. Mario—that's my boss who was killed—was a good man. I don't know who would have wanted to hurt him. Besides, I wasn't even at Mario's office that night. I went to the movies. It was the late show, and it ran from nine-thirty to after midnight. So there. Couldn't have been me."

  Darcy was quickly making mental notes in her head. She hadn't wanted Aimee to see her writing anything down, but there were questions that needed answers.

  She had enough to find those answers now.

  "Well, Jon should be back soon," she said, standing up, cautiously looking over at the security camera just to be sure she was still out of its field of vision. "He'll let you know more about what's going on."

  Silence met her remark. Aimee turned a little like she was sorry to see Darcy go, but then she went and sat back down on the bunk.

  "Hey, Darcy?" she called out. "Thank you. For believing in me."

  Darcy nodded, but didn't say anything more as she crept back up the hall and back toward the front of the building.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It didn't take Darcy long to figure out her mistake in not using the back door out.

  As she walked into the officer's area of desks and computers and bulletin boards, Grace noticed her first. "I thought you left," she said.

  "I, uh, forgot something," Darcy tried to cover. It might have worked, or it might not have, but just then Jon and the other two patrolmen came back in, a sulking Richard Chartrand handcuffed and held by both elbows between the uniformed officers.

  "We didn't even have to ask him a single question," Jon said with a big smile. "We just showed up on his doorstep and he broke down crying and confessed the whole thing."

  Even now, Richard was sniffing back tears. Killing his own mother must have weighed heavily on his soul. It probably wasn't intentional, Darcy figured. Just one of those heat of anger moments that can't be taken back. Ever.

  "So," he added in a joking tone, "What did we miss?"

  Darcy wanted to tell him about Aimee, and about what she had just found out. She started to do it and then stopped. Two things kept her from saying anything about it. One, she wasn't positive yet that she was right, and she needed to do some research. He'd already callously reminded her about wrongly accusing people in the past.

  Two, he was so happy right now. He'd been in a bad mood ever since his sister showed up and she just wanted them to have this singular moment when they weren't fighting and he was happy.

  She didn't think that was too much to ask.

  Darcy stepped over to him and kissed his cheek as Grace began helping the uniformed officers with the arrest paperwork on Richard Chartrand. "I love you," she said to him. "I'll see you at home."

  He blinked at her kiss and his smile slipped a little. "Darcy. We'll talk about everything. I promise."

  "Sure we will," she said, although she wasn't sure at all. "At home, okay?"

  Darcy made her way out to her bicycle and headed for home. It was nearing lunchtime and her stomach growled again to remind her she hadn't even eaten breakfast. She didn't have time to stop at Helen's café in town, a
lthough she did need to catch up with her friend and see how she was coping with Vivica's death. She'd have to get something quick at home.

  She had a lot of work to do.

  ***

  It was late afternoon when Jon came home. Darcy was on the couch, Jon's laptop computer set up on her folded legs, a plate with crumbs on it and an empty soda bottle on the coffee table. Smudge had been perched on the back of the couch watching her with half-lidded eyes. When he heard the front door open and close he perked his ears up. When he heard Jon's voice, he turned and jumped down, pouncing his way upstairs.

  "I'm in here, Jon," she called out to him. She gathered the papers from Vivica's house from all around her and set them neatly aside. "Come and sit with me."

  He kicked his shoes off at the door from the kitchen to the living room, his jacket hooked by one finger over his shoulder. "Hi there," he said. "Thought I'd come home for some lunch. A late lunch, anyway. More like dinner."

  Sitting down on the couch next to her, he put his jacket down across his lap. He noticed the computer and the papers and then looked up at her quizzically. "You look like you've been busy. Is this why you were in such a rush to leave the station?"

  Self-consciously, she twisted the antique silver ring on the finger of her right hand. This was not going to be a comfortable conversation. Then again, that was the only kind they'd been having for the past two days.

  "I came home to check on something," she started.

  "Uh-oh. How come I don't like the sound of that?"

  "Just, hear me out, okay?" She waited to make sure he wouldn't interrupt, and then said, "I've been looking through old newspaper articles online for hours. Articles about your sister and the man she was accused of murdering six years ago."