The Language of Death (A Darcy Sweet Coy Mystery)

by K. J. Emrick

  She wished, not for the first time, that Jon were here. This was where she had always needed his help. They had made a good team. When her brother-in-law Aaron had been kidnapped, it had been Jon who had worked with the police to make things happen that Darcy never could have. Whenever a suspect needed to be arrested to make sure they didn't run away—or worse, hurt Darcy or someone else—it was Jon who she relied on. Whenever she needed someone to hold her and tell her it would be all right…

  It was Jon who held her. Just not right now.

  Maybe not ever again.

  That thought spiked through her mind before she could control it. Even after she had stomped on it a few times and squashed it down to dust, she still felt an overwhelming sadness. Here she stood at her best friend's memorial service, needing the comfort and support that Jon had always given her, and he had up and run away. Not one of her better days all around.

  She had definitely decided to go to the police by the time she went back inside. It was the best choice she could make. She'd decided something else, too. She hadn't wanted to tell Lorne about his brother. Now, she'd changed her mind. She owed him, because of their friendship, and because she hadn't been here when Chloe needed her.

  She didn't have all of the pieces yet. There was still the question of why Danson would want Chloe dead, but Darcy had seen too many bizarre and senseless reasons for murder to worry too much about that part. Let the police find out Danson's reasons. She had her murderer.

  Lorne spotted her almost as soon as she stepped foot back in the house. He excused himself from a conversation in which Sami was practically hanging off his arm, and rushed over to Darcy. The look on Sami's face was a mix of hurt and jealous resentment. Lorne didn't notice.

  He took her casually by her elbow and steered her upstairs to the quiet of the empty second floor hallway. "What did you find out?" he asked.

  "Lorne, maybe we should do this somewhere else." Somewhere away from people he might want to beat into a pulp, she meant.

  "Come on, Darcy. Just tell me. If you've found out anything, I need to know. Please."

  She couldn't say no to him. He was so desperate to know the truth, and she knew that no matter how much it hurt him, or her, she had to let him know.

  So she laid out everything she had found out, how 'north and south' referred to Danson's bipolar disorder, and that the bottle of pills that should have been in Danson's glove compartment were missing. As she went on to explain how some medication treated more than one disease or disorder, Lorne's face grew darker and darker.

  That was when she realized she'd made a mistake by telling Lorne before going to the police. His hands were trembling as he fisted them tightly. His nostrils flared and a vein at his temple throbbed.

  "I'll kill him," he growled.

  As he said it, Chloe's spirit appeared in the hallway. She stood in front of Lorne, hands raised, her expression alarmed, as if she knew exactly what he was about to do. She tried to stop him. She tried to stand in his way and keep him from rushing down the stairs like a man with murder on his mind.

  He passed right through her, and her image slid apart and disappeared.

  "Lorne!" Darcy called after him. He didn't stop. She raced down after him and got into the living room just in time to see him lunge on top of Danson, his fists flying, landing blow after blow.

  It was a terrible sight, but worse yet was when Danson swung back, landing a solid right cross into Lorne's jaw, snapping his brother's head backward with a sickening, squishing sound.

  People cleared out of the way, hugging the walls, or heading for the door. The brothers rolled around on the floor, throwing punches and blocking punches and alternately climbing on top of the other. Darcy got close enough to grab hold of Lorne's arm and haul him back for two steps. Then he pulled away from her, nearly sending her sprawling, and gut punched Danson.

  Betsy and Kevin pulled her back from the fight. "Stop it!" Betsy kept hollering. "Stop it!" Neither of them paid her any attention. They went at each other in the middle of the living room floor with fists and harsh words that made Darcy's ears burn. "Someone stop them!" Betsy pleaded.

  It seemed like forever before other people got hold of the two of them and forcibly drew them apart, panting and shaking.

  "What is the meaning of this?" Kevin shouted, holding Betsy to him. "This is my daughter's memorial service!"

  "She's dead because of him!" Lorne shouted, thrusting a finger at Danson.

  "Oh, no…" Darcy moaned.

  The people who had been holding the brothers now let go of them, stunned by what had just been said. Veronica gasped, standing just behind Danson, who gaped at Lorne with his mouth hanging open. Lorne seemed to just realize that he'd spoken out loud, too, because now he tilted his head up to the ceiling with a helpless expression.

  "What are you saying?" Betsy asked him. "My daughter…Chloe…she died of an overdose. Nobody knows where she got the pills. Lorne, I know it's hard to let go but we have to accept—"

  "Where are your pills, brother?" Lorne snapped, fixing his gaze fiercely on Danson again, twisting the word brother into an accusation. "Huh? Where's the pills that you keep in your glove compartment?"

  "I used them," he said quickly, so angry that he forgot to even deny knowing they were gone. He wiped away blood at the corner of his mouth with the back of one hand. "I haven't gotten them refilled yet."

  Darcy knew that could be true. She hadn't thought of that. Everyone turned back to Lorne, like they were watching some kind of verbal tennis match, waiting to see what he'd say next. It could be true, but it didn't sound right to Darcy. There had been something in the way Danson had given that answer, like it was too easy and too quick. Rehearsed, almost.

  "I suppose," she said, stepping closer to Lorne, "that we could find out if that's true or not with a simple phone call to Danson's doctor's office. Right, Danson? You wouldn't mind doing that if it cleared your name and made Lorne and Chloe's parents feel better, right?"

  Danson's smug expression cracked. He looked around the room like he was looking for support, but no one spoke up for him. Veronica put her hand gently on his arm. "Fine," he said. "Fine! Look, I lost the pills. Okay? They were there two weeks ago and then when this happened to Chloe they were the first thing I thought of so I rushed to my car and I looked, but they weren't there this time. I don't know what happened to them. I figured that Chloe must have stolen them to use. I didn't want anyone upset at me." He looked pleadingly at Lorne. "I'm sorry, bro."

  Lorne's shoulders slumped. Everything Danson had just said made sense, and it could be true, and he knew it. He turned to Darcy, hoping she had something else, some miracle or clue or bit of information that would let him know what to do.

  Of course, Darcy knew more. She knew exactly how Chloe had died. She had been given the drug in a glass of beer and only a good friend would be able to do that without raising suspicions, especially in Chloe's bedroom. Was it Danson? She was sure of it. Or at least, she had been. The problem was she couldn't tell anyone else that she knew how it had happened. She couldn’t say she'd talked to Chloe's ghost and let me tell you what, folks, she has a lot to say.

  She'd been called crazy before. This was not the time to lose people's trust in her. She needed them to know the truth, but there had to be some way to find out for sure who killed her, and prove it in a way that everyone here could accept.

  What would Jon do? He was a hard headed police officer who believed in walking a straight line from evidence to arrest to conviction. What evidence would he look for here? If he were here—which he wasn't—what would he tell Darcy to do?

  She imagined Jon working this case, and the answer came to her.

  "Fingerprints," she blurted out. "We can have the police check your glove compartment for fingerprints, Danson. They'll either find Chloe's fingerprints there or they won't, and then we'll know."

  Betsy's lip quivered, but she nodded firmly. Her baby might not have done herself in after all. Any
mother would want to know that. Around the room, other voices murmured assent, a few saying they knew some of the local cops and they could give them a call right now.

  "But anyone could have gotten into Danson's car with that hide-a-key he keeps under the back wheel."

  All eyes turned. It was Sami who had spoken.

  Got you, Darcy's almost shouted triumphantly. She wanted to dance with joy. That would have to wait, though. Darcy had to finish this, first.

  "Sami," she said slowly. "How did you know about Danson's hidden car key?"

  She blinked at Darcy from behind her thick glasses. "Uh, well, you know. Everyone has a hidden key for their car, right?"

  "No, they don't, actually." Darcy pulled Danson's key in its little box from the pocket on the hip of her dress. Danson's eyebrows rose as she did.

  "Where did you…?" he started to ask.

  "From your car. I almost couldn't find it. It was hidden really, really well Danson. There's no way anyone would find this unless they were looking for it, let alone know it was there."

  "Like you were, apparently," Danson muttered.

  "Can it, brother," Lorne said to him. "She just did you a huge favor. She proved you didn't kill Chloe."

  "And just how is that a favor to me?"

  "Because if Darcy hadn't done what she did, I would have killed you."

  "Both of you, be silent," Betsy said to them, as if she were their mother and not Chloe's. Then she went to Sami, and took hold of her gently by her elbows. "Sami, did you do this thing? Did you do this to my Chloe?"

  The woman paled, all the color draining from her face. Her eyes darted feverishly behind the big round lenses of her glasses and her whole body shook. Her lips tried to form words, but all she was capable of was pleading little noises.

  "Maybe we should look for your fingerprints in Danson's car, Sami," Darcy suggested.

  Sami whimpered, shaking her head furiously.

  "I think that's our answer," Lorne said in a low voice. "Why, Sami? Why in the name of God would you—"

  "Because of you!" she shouted back at Lorne, startling Betsy enough to send her backing up into her husband's arms again. "I did it for you! You were about to waste your whole life on Chloe. She told me. She let it slip that you two were getting married. It was always Chloe. Always Chloe! Growing up, she always got everything she wanted. She always got the guy, got the scholarship, got the attention of the whole town! Well this time I wanted something, and I was going to take it! I wanted you, Lorne. I've always wanted you."

  Everyone stood in stony silence. Darcy could see judgment already being passed in some faces. Two or three had their cell phones up to their ears, quietly speaking to someone, or possibly several someones, and Darcy figured the police would be here soon.

  "Oh, Sami. You stupid, stupid woman." Lorne backed up to the edge of the couch he and Danson had shoved sideways during their fight, and fell into it, sitting with his head buried in his hands.

  "I didn't mean to kill her," Sami was saying, reaching out pleadingly to everyone around her. "I just wanted to make her sick. I wanted her to be sick for a while so that I could have you to myself, Lorne. That's all I wanted. If you and I could just spend some time together, I know you'd see."

  "We were getting married," Lorne said, miserably. Darcy sat down next to him, and he collapsed into her arms, sobbing.

  Of course Sami would know about Danson's condition. Darcy worked out the connection she should have seen right along. Lorne knew, so Chloe would know, which meant Veronica would know, and in turn, Sami would too.

  Danson stalked off into the kitchen, Veronica right behind him, and Darcy could hear water running in the sink as he wet a towel to wipe away the blood on his face and knuckles. Betsy wept quietly in the arms of her husband. Everyone else turned away uncomfortably.

  Over in the corner of the room, Sami folded herself up into a ball, rocking against the wall, and repeated the same words over and over.

  "I didn't mean to kill her. I didn't mean to."

  Chapter Eight

  Chloe came back to watch the police arrest Sami Wilmer and take her away in handcuffs. No one cheered. Not even Chloe. It was just too sad to be happy about.

  After the police had taken everyone's information and promised to come back at a better time to take statements, Chloe turned to Darcy and smiled. Then she faded into nothing until she was gone again. Darcy didn't bother trying to stop her. She could feel that she wasn't gone yet. Not all the way gone, like over to the other side. Darcy would have known if this was goodbye.

  Everyone started leaving after that, with muttered excuses or hugs or heartfelt offers to help in any way they could. Soon, the Marrin house was almost empty.

  Darcy was still on the couch with Lorne. He had taken a towel that Danson had offered him, and he began cleaning off the blood on his own hands. A cut on his cheek had scabbed over, but it opened up again as he wiped at it.

  "Those were some good hits, bro," Danson said to him.

  "Thanks. I meant every one of them."

  Danson smirked and shook his head. "Knew you did. I'll catch up with you. Later, okay?"

  When Lorne nodded, Danson made his goodbyes to Betsy and Kevin too, apologizing for the mess and offering to pay for anything he'd damaged. Darcy rolled her eyes at men in general and men who couldn't show their true feelings specifically.

  Betsy had a few choice words to say to Danson about letting his medication get Chloe killed, and to Danson's credit he stood and listened to every word without comment. After she was done telling him exactly what she thought of him, she drew him into a big, choking hug.

  Yes, Darcy thought with a smile. That was definitely Chloe's mother.

  Danson looked expectantly at Veronica, but she leaned up and whispered something in his ear. He shrugged and stepped outside, leaving her standing awkwardly near the entryway to the living room. When she noticed that everyone was watching her she put on a smile that didn't touch her eyes.

  "You suspected me, too," she asked Darcy, "didn't you?"

  Darcy didn't have any reason to lie to her. Not now that it was over. "I did. To be fair, though, I suspected everyone at first."

  Veronica shrugged one slender shoulder. "You're from out of town."

  As if that summed up everything, she turned on her heel and left.

  Now it was Darcy's turn to feel awkward. She was sitting there on a sofa in the living room of Chloe's parent's house with Lorne, her old college friend, a friend she had reunited with through Chloe's death. If that didn't spell awkward with a capital A she didn't know what did.

  "I, um, should probably go," she said to no one in particular as she stood up. "I've done everything I could do here."

  Lorne caught her hand as she started to walk away. "It's too bad we had to meet again like this, Darcy. Please, don't stay a stranger. Keep in touch?"

  "Of course," she said. "You know I will. I've lost one friend already. I don't intend to lose another."

  Lorne got up off the couch now, too, his shoulders still a little drooped, his breathing still a little heavy. "I miss her," he said. "I really miss her."

  They hugged each other, and Darcy didn't rush him. She let him hold on as long as he wanted. Truth be told, she wanted to hold on to someone right then as well. It felt good to have that human contact with someone who had loved Chloe as much as she did. Someone who understood her loss.

  "Hey," he said sometime later, their arms still around each other. "Can I buy you a cup of coffee before you leave town? I know this great café downtown."

  She wasn't ready to go yet. She didn't want to go home to her sort of empty house and jump back into helping her mom with wedding preparations and cuddle up to her pillow at night. Not only that, she knew Chloe hadn't left yet. She wanted to make sure her friend found her way to the other side, in peace.

  "I'd like that," she said to him. "I'll follow you there."

  ***

  The little coffee shop was quaint and cro
wded and neither of them noticed how busy the place was as they shared story after story of Chloe Marrin. Darcy felt a little too overdressed for a casual cup of coffee, but it didn't matter. Lorne still had on his suit from the funeral service too, and they were enjoying each other's company too much to worry about any odd looks they might be getting. Three cups of cinnamon flavored mocha latte later Lorne said something that surprised her.

  "I know you can see her, Darcy. Is Chloe here?"

  Darcy's ceramic coffee cup almost dropped out of her hands. "You know…what?"

  He smiled that amazing smile of his that she'd nearly forgotten about this long after college. "Darcy, you shared your secret with Chloe. Back in college you two were as close as anybody I knew. I doubt there was anything you kept from each other. Do you really think she never told me? You can see spirits. Ghosts. I've seen you talking to Chloe when you didn't think anyone noticed."

  "Wait, you've known this all along?"

  "Sure." He put his coffee mug aside and reached out to wrap his hands around hers where she held her own cup. "Darcy, I think what you can do is incredible. What a gift that must be. To be able to reach out to loved ones who are lost, or help the dead find peace like you did with Chloe."

  "It's not always a gift." His hands felt so warm around hers. So nice. "Sometimes it's horrible, the things I see. The things I know. I get dragged into trouble like you wouldn't believe. It's like it finds me wherever I go."

  "Maybe the dead are drawn to you because they don't have anyone else to help them," he suggested. "I know you must want to keep this secret because you're afraid of what people will say about you, but I just want you to know I think it's an incredible thing."

  Darcy had never had anyone accept what she was so quickly before. Except for her Great Aunt Millie, of course, but she had the same "gift" that Darcy did. Suddenly she couldn't look directly at him. Her heart beat a little faster.

  "Is she here?" he asked again.

  "Not right now. She has been. She's been right here with us through most of this." Darcy's skin began to tingle where his hands touched hers. "She's the one who showed me where the key was hidden on your brother's car."