The Language of Death (A Darcy Sweet Coy Mystery)

by K. J. Emrick

  He nodded, his eyes distant. "That was my Chloe."

  "And," Darcy said, "you should have seen her at the service in the church. She was acting so silly trying to make me laugh. I almost choked trying to hold it back."

  "Yeah. I can picture it. Whenever I was sad or depressed, she always knew how to make me laugh."

  "Me too."

  They talked some more, and Lorne kept hold of her hands the whole time. Darcy felt a connection to him growing deeper within her. It was easy to talk to Lorne, to be open and honest and not worry about what he might think if she said the wrong thing. She wondered if these feelings were her own, or if they were being inspired by thoughts of Chloe and everything that had happened over the past two days.

  It was after six o'clock when Darcy sighed and stared down at her empty coffee cup. "I really should go, Lorne. I'd like to stay longer, but…"

  "You have a life to get back to. I understand. I'd like to come out to Misty Hollow and see that bookstore of yours some day."

  "I'd like that," she said. "Stop out any time. You have my phone number and e-mail."

  "Darcy at sweetreadbookstore dot com. Yes. And you've got mine. So we've got no excuse not to stay in touch."

  He walked her outside, to the sidewalk of the little town that wasn't much different than Misty Hollow, all things considered. Darcy might like to come back here to visit sometime. She turned and looked up at Lorne, standing so very close to her. Close enough that she could look into those dark blue eyes of his and see exactly what he was thinking.

  She knew he was thinking the same thing, knew it in the core of her being as she leaned up on her toes, letting him pull her in, his lips getting closer to hers. She knew the kiss was going to happen. It felt so right and perfect for the two of them to start down this road. If she just let it happen it would be so wonderful…

  When she pulled back from him before their lips touched she wasn't sure which one of them was more surprised. It took her a moment to control her breathing, and even longer for him to slowly let go of her hands.

  "Too soon?" he asked.

  "No. I mean, yes, but not like that." Darcy tried to untwist her scrambled emotions. As much as she wanted to kiss him, she knew that stopping herself was the right thing to do. Now all she had to do was put it into words for him. Well. For both of them. "I have a boyfriend already. Jon is his name. I can't be here and do this. It wouldn't be fair to him."

  Lorne nodded, his expression tight. "I see. I'm sorry. I didn't know. Is he, uh, good to you?"

  Oh, now there was a loaded question. "He is," she decided to say. "We're in kind of a rough spot right now, but I haven't given up on him."

  "And if you kiss me, you'll be doing exactly that. Giving up on him." Lorne nodded again, and Darcy was amazed at how he could be so understanding. She still wanted to pull him to her and trace those lips with her own and just let herself be loved for a moment.

  It wouldn't be right. She was involved with someone. Lorne had just lost Chloe. It wouldn't be right.

  She kept telling herself that until it sank in.

  That smile of his came back now. It was the smile of a friend who wanted only the best for her. Darcy was kicking herself already for not letting him kiss her, just once, but what she had said to Lorne was true. If she and Jon were ever going to get back together, she couldn't be falling into the arms of the first cute, funny, smart, amazing man who came her way.

  Wait. That wasn't what she meant. Or was it? She closed her eyes and sighed out slowly. She could understand the ways of ghosts easier than the ways of her own heart.

  When she opened her eyes again Lorne was standing there with his hand stretched out for her to shake. "This Jon of yours is a lucky guy. Tell him I said so, will you? Goodbye, Darcy. I'll come visit you next time. Hopefully there'll be less excitement."

  "In Misty Hollow?" she said. "We're just a small, sleepy little town like what you have here in Smithsville. Nothing exciting ever happens there."

  They laughed at her little joke, and in spite of what she had said to him about Jon Tinker, she let him hug her tightly one last time.

  "Take care of yourself," he said quietly to her. "And tell Chloe I love her, if you see her again."

  Then he turned and walked down the street to where they had parked their cars. Darcy thought it would be best if she waited for him to drive away first, since she had parked her sister's car right behind his. He waved out the window as he pulled away from the curb.

  Chloe had appeared next to her as Lorne drove away. She turned to Darcy now, her expression saying it all.

  "I already have a boyfriend, Chloe. Besides, Lorne is still getting over you. He may never get over you."

  Chloe struck a pose. How could any man get over me?

  "I won't get over you being gone, either, you know." Darcy meant it. She'd carry the heartache of this for a long time.

  Chloe smiled wistfully and then blew Darcy a kiss. One to remember me by, she was saying.

  It was time for her to go.

  Before she did, she moved over to the coffee house window. The glass fogged up as she got close. Chloe was causing a sudden drop in the air temperature right where she stood, a trick some ghosts picked up quicker than others. In the condensation on the window, Chloe wrote out a last message for Darcy.

  "Miss you like peanut butter," it read. "Love you always."

  Darcy watched, unshed tears now running freely down her cheeks, as Chloe walked away up the sidewalk. The few people nearby stepped wide of her without realizing why they were doing it. The further away Chloe got, the more she shimmered and faded, until finally her spirit disappeared altogether. Darcy could feel it as she left this plane of existence for the next.

  Her friend was gone.

  "Goodbye, Chloe," she whispered. "I love you, too."

  —End—

  Hi everyone. This is Darcy Sweet.

  I hope you enjoyed this story, as well as the other stories in my series. My life keeps getting more and more complicated. I have to figure there's more good than bad in that.

  Just so you know, the e-mail address I gave Lorne really does belong to me. I love getting e-mails, too. Drop me a note sometime. I always answer back. Write me about anything. Men, books, or even the care of cranky cats who think they're human. Or, write me your ghost stories or questions about the hereafter.

  There's more adventures to come here in my sleepy little town of Misty Hollow. Hope to see you again soon!

  darcy@sweetreadbookstore.com

  Keep Reading for a Bonus Short Story -

  ‘A Smudge the Cat Mystery Story’ - The Circle of Life

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  Bonus Short Story - A Smudge the Cat Mystery

  The Circle of Life

  You know how cats have nine lives? No, really. We do. Well. Most of us do. Me, I only have eight lives.

  My name is Smudge, and I'm a cat. A black
and white cat. Or a white cat with black fur. Maybe a black cat with white fur. I'm not really sure. Anyway, that's where I come by the name Smudge. My owner gave it to me. I kind of like it.

  I live in Misty Hollow, a small town with not-so-small problems. You might say it's bigger than it seems. I've got a good life here, for the most part, and I have everything a cat could want. Except a full nine lives. Wish I had that ninth one back.

  This is the story of how I lost it.

  I remember it was a gorgeous summer day. One of those days in the middle of July that make a cat want to either curl up and take a nap, or go exploring. Ordinarily, I would have gone with the nap.

  Today, I chose to go exploring instead. Biggest mistake of my life.

  I hadn't lived in Misty Hollow for very long at that point so there were lots of things left to explore. My owner, Darcy Sweet, was working at the book store her Great Aunt Millie had used to own, so I had the whole day to myself. I kind of wish that I had known Millie when she was alive. Humans are humans, and some of them are better than others, but Millie is so much fun to talk to now that she's dead. I just know she would have been a great friend when she was alive. She haunts the book store now, a poltergeist making mischief to make the time pass, even though she could have moved on to the other side already. We've talked about her reasons for sticking around. I think the old lady is pretty smart, if you ask me.

  We talk about a lot of things, Millie and me. But that's a story for another time.

  Today, I wanted to explore the trees around the south side of town. Misty Hollow is a rural place. Even though there are lots of people living here, there's also lots of nature. Trees and bushes and other neat places for cats to check out. The trees here, thick and shady, could almost be called a forest. At least, I think they could. I've never been in an actual forest. Only in my dreams.

  Trees have this amazing smell to them. They smell like freedom and wild things. It makes me want to run around them, and jump, and climb this tree with my claws, and jump back down to the ground, and run some more.

  Being a cat rules.

  The problem was that I got totally twisted around out there. Left was right and east was west—even though I'm not really sure which way is east and which is west anyway—until I lost all sense of where I had come from. I could almost imagine I wasn't anywhere near civilization. No town nearby, no traffic sounds, no people. Just tall trees and wild things and me. It was like I was a big cat on the prowl in the jungles of—

  The screech that came out of my mouth at that exact moment sounded less like a lion's roar and more like a cat being scared to death. Which, basically, is what I was.

  That? No. That's not where I lost my life. That comes later.

  A crow had fluttered up in my face, right in front of me, rummaging through the dead leaves and flapping his wings. He was probably looking for worms or other insects to fill his big, fat belly. I hate crows. They're like rats with wings, or short ugly chickens, or…or…something else that's just as ugly that I can't think of right now. Ugly rat chickens. Yeah. That's what they are.

  This one cawed at me again and then flew off, into the higher branches up above until I lost sight of it. I stopped to get my breath and shake my head a few times. Dumb crow broke my rhythm.

  That's when I heard the voices.

  "I told you not to take it," a girl's voice said. I jumped up in the air again, not screeching this time thank you very much. My heart was racing, though, and I got to wondering if maybe I might get scared to death out here after all.

  Nope. That's not where I lost my one life either.

  I could see two people through the trees. Standing and talking. The girl was young, with long blonde hair held back in a ponytail, wearing a long blue dress without sleeves. There was a man with her, a little older than she was, I guessed, with hair buzzed closed to his scalp and eyes that were hidden behind dark sunglasses.

  The guy gave me the creeps.

  "I took it for us," he was saying to the girl. "It's for our future."

  "It doesn't belong to us," the girl insisted. "You have to take it back."

  I could see she had something shiny in her hand that sparkled in the sun. A ring, by the look of it, with little stones set in place on a gold band. I think people called those little stones diamonds. I never understood why people have so much interest in stones. They're just little pieces of rock. I could find rocks anywhere. Look, I'm stepping on some right now.

  Those ones on the ring sure were sparkly, though.

  The guy and the girl were still arguing, and the girl tried her best to push the ring into the guy's hand. He wouldn't take it. "I stole it for us. That ring is worth a lot of money, and it's ours now."

  Stole it? I know enough about humans and how they think to know that stealing is wrong. Cats don't steal from each other. We might take stuff from people's garbage, but that isn't stealing. If people didn't want that stuff taken, they wouldn't throw it out.

  My ears perk up. If these two stole a ring from somewhere in town, this could be even more interesting than running through the woods. I watched them intently to see what they would do next.

  The girl shifted her weight from one foot to another, looking nervous, but finally she put the ring on her finger. "Fine. I'll keep it, but I don't like stealing, Pat. If we're going to be together we need to show everyone we can make it on our own. So. Um. When do you think we can sell it?"

  "Tomorrow. My cousin lives over in Meadowood." The guy, Pat, rubbed his hands together. "He knows a guy runs a pawn shop. We can get at least two hundred dollars for that. Plenty for us to run away with. Enough for a start, anyway."

  The girl didn't look as certain. "My mom's going to be really worried, Pat. I don't know if I can do this."

  Pat, reached out and pulled the girl closer. "Ginny, we don't have to tell your parents anything. With that ring we can start a new life far away from here. I'm glad I stole it."

  I waited, and listened, until the picture came clear in my head. Pat here was trying to convince this girl to run away with him. He needed money to make that happen, and he was going to sell this diamond ring to get that money.

  Only the ring wasn't his.

  Most cats I know would have turned and walked away at that point, or kept watching out of plain curiosity. I'm just not most cats. This guy had committed a crime against someone. That just didn't seem right to me. Which meant I was going to have to do something about it.

  In my life, I've learned one thing for certain. A cat's work is never done.

  ***

  There are a few places where people can go to eat in Misty Hollow. For cats it's a lot simpler. We don't have to go out at all. Our owners put food down for us in our dishes. Or, like my new friend Tony the alley cat, we just dig around in garbage cans or catch a few mice.

  Mmm. Fresh mice.

  Well. The restaurant I follow Ginny to doesn't serve fresh mice, of course. People aren't into that. This place is called The Dog Shack, and what it serves is all kinds of hotdogs. I like hotdogs well enough, but I'm not very fond of the name of this place. I've heard Darcy say it's going to close in a few weeks. I can't say I'll be sorry to see any business with the word "dog" in it go away.

  Ginny has been upset the whole way here. Cats can kind of sense people's emotions, sometimes even know what they're thinking. We all speak human, of course, even though people can't speak cat. In this case I didn't need Ginny to say anything. I could see how upset she is. I think running away is this guy Pat's idea. I'm not sure Ginny wants anything to do with it.

  Most places where people are welcome don't want pets around. No dogs, no cats, nothing like that. So when Ginny goes in through the front glass doors of the restaurant, I can't follow her any further. I can see through the doors and the tall front windows but I can't go in.

  Not this way.

  I'm very good at getting in and out of buildings. Darcy keeps wondering how I get out of our house and back in again when she locks the doo
rs and windows up. I have my ways. I'm not going to let a little thing like a no pets policy keep me out of The Dog Shack.

  Around the back, where it's darker and the garbage is piled high in a metal bin, I find my way in. The garbage bin works as a stepping stone for me to get up to a high ledge where someone forgot to close a window and just like that, I'm in.

  The trickier part is skulking around downstairs in the restaurant without being seen. It's not all that hard. There are tables and chairs and other pieces of furniture for me to squeeze behind. Not to mention, people don't usually look down. They're preoccupied with their little worlds up above and don't look down here where us cats walk.

  Ginny is certainly preoccupied. I can see her, sitting in one of the green plastic chairs at a round, white table. She's holding her hand up to admire the ring, turning it this way and that way, smiling at it. Humans and their diamonds, I think to myself again.

  Then she takes it off, staring at it closer. With a long, slow sigh, she sets the ring down on the table in front of her. She doesn't want to do this. I can tell. I can sense her uncertainty. She wants to give the ring back, even if she thinks it's pretty. When she doesn't pick the ring back up, I see my chance.

  Claws slipping on the white and green linoleum, I jet across the floor, jump up onto Ginny's lap, up onto the table, grab the ring in my mouth, and race off again. Ha! That's how we do—

  I turned to look back at Ginny with a triumphant little grin just before I ran full tilt into the glass doors of the restaurant. I'd forgotten they were even there. Glass, from top to bottom. I mean, who builds doors like this? My vision turns black with little pinprick stars and for the life of me I feel like I'm going to pass out and die.

  Nope. This isn't how it happened either. I still have all nine of my lives. At least for now.

  Blinking, clearing my head, I hear Ginny hollering after me. She's getting up from her seat, and now other people are getting up, and I am in deep, deep trouble. Ears flattened back against my head I look this way and that way trying to find a way out that doesn't involve me getting caught.