by K. J. Emrick
Zane’s eyes were wide. “School has pizza?”
“Sometimes,” Colby told him.
He couldn’t stop staring. “Wo-o-ow.”
“Watch your cup, honey,” Darcy told him. “Don’t spill.”
“I won’t.” To prove it, he took a long drink and then smacked his lips. “Ahh.”
“Good boy. Unfortunately, we can’t have pizza tonight. The snow is going to keep Marios closed and I don’t have any pizza in the freezer. How about macaroni and cheese instead, and maybe some hotdogs?”
“That sounds good to me,” Colby said.
Zane looked disappointed, but another sip of his hot chocolate put the smile back on his face. “Hotdogs is good for me.”
Cha Cha raised his head, cocked to one side, his ear drooping along the floor. His eyes looked dolefully up at Zane.
Zane laughed. “No, not that kind of dogs! The kind you eats. Silly puppy. People don’t eats real dogs.”
Rolling back over, paws up in the air, Cha Cha groaned his relief that he wasn’t going to be on the menu tonight.
“Hey,” Izzy said. “That reminds me… where’s Tiptoe?”
Darcy had no idea. Tiptoe often kept her own hours, and she could be gone for an entire day before she showed back up, looking to be fed. There might be a raging storm outside, but Darcy had no doubt that her cat could find a way out all the same, off on some adventure. Her daddy Smudge had been just the same way. Here one minute, gone the next, showing up again just when he was needed most. Whatever her cat was up to, Darcy hoped she was keeping warm. Of course, she might still be inside somewhere, curled up in a corner of a room, or even downstairs in the basement.
Or maybe, she was stuck outside with no way to get back in…
“No, I’m sure she’s fine,” she started to say.
And then there was a knock on the door.
Everyone turned to look out into the kitchen. The front door was out there, around the corner and hidden from their view, but that had definitely been a knock. Outside, the storm continued without any sign of tapering off. Nobody could get to them through all that snow. Except on skis, Darcy reminded herself. Or with a snowmobile. Or Santa’s sleigh.
“I guess I should go check to see who it is,” Darcy said after another knock.
“Are you sure?” Izzy asked her. She was obviously still unsettled from seeing the dead man today. “I mean, who could it be, anyway?”
“Well, we won’t know until we go see. And remember,” she added, unwrapping herself from her blanket, “the really bad guys don’t usually knock. They just break down the door.”
Izzy laughed, and relaxed back into the couch.
Who could be out there, though? All of her neighbors should be snowbound. Her house wasn’t on a street that went anywhere in particular. Nobody should be down this way. In spite of what she told Izzy there was a little hesitation as she put her hand to the curtain over the window on the door, and then pulled it aside.
She was more than a little surprised to find Pastor Phineas McCord smiling back at her. The snow all around him formed a white halo of swirling flakes.
“Hello, Darcy!” he greeted her through the glass. “Got a cup of coffee for a wandering man of God?”
It dawned on her that she was just standing there, staring at him, warm and dry inside her kitchen while he huddled into his heavy coat and tightened his red scarf against the wind. Snow glistened on his dark skin and in his curly black hair. His breath plumed and frosted the glass on his side. He had to be freezing, but if he was then it wasn’t ruining his good mood.
She threw the door open wide for him and stepped aside while he bustled in, careful not to step in too far with his snow-covered boots. He helped her shoulder the door closed, and she made sure it shut tight.
In his hands, Phin carried a pair of wooden snowshoes, like oversized tennis rackets.
“Ah,” Darcy said with a grin that matched his. “That’s how you managed to get out this way.”
“Sure enough,” he told her. “Jesus may have walked on water through faith alone, but I find I generally need a little help.”
He carefully leaned the snowshoes up against the wall, where they wouldn’t cause too much mess as the snow dripped off. Then he unzipped his jacket and breathed in deeply.
“Is that hot chocolate I smell?”
“Yes, it is. Would you like a cup?”
“I believe I would. Thank you.” He flexed his fingers, working some warmth back into his hands. “I’ve gone around half of the town so far, knocking on doors, finding a few people home and a few people not.”
Darcy was getting down another cup for Phin from the cupboard. “Hmm. That’s weird. I figured everyone was home. I mean, where could they go?”
“Oh, I suspect lots of people were out of town for the Christmas holiday when Snowstorm Alejandro hit us. Some of them came back just before it started, and others I guess are waiting it out with family in other areas.”
Putting the kettle on the burner to heat up, Darcy gave him an odd look. “Alejandro?”
“Yup. That’s what they’re calling this snowstorm on the news.”
“Well, for Pete’s sake. I mean, seriously. When did they start naming snowstorms?” She couldn’t remember the last time she heard something that ridiculous. “What’s next, Sun Shower Bertha? Hailstorm Fred?”
“Actually, I could use a nice sun shower right now. A nice, blazing heat wave with rain to wash all this snow away.”
“Fat chance of that. I didn’t realize they named anything but hurricanes. Then again, I haven’t listened to the news since last night. What are they saying about the storm?”
“Well, apparently we’re going to get a break in the snow sometime tonight. Kind of like the eye of a hurricane, is what they’re saying. After that, more snow. Lots of snow.”
Darcy scooped cocoa powder into his cup, shaking her head as she did. “Just what we need, more snow. This is going to be real trouble for some of the people in town if it keeps up like this.”
“Mm-hmm, I agree. That’s why I’m out here, actually. We started a shelter at the church. Me and a couple of the deacons are providing cots for people downstairs, and warm meals of soup and grilled cheese. Bottled water, too. That sort of thing. It’s mostly for tourists and wandering souls who got trapped in town when the travel ban went into effect. Some of them are real talkative, and one… not so much. Haven’t got a word out of her, no sir. Must be shell-shocked from the weather, I suppose, but I don’t judge. I’m going around to see if anybody in town needs a place to stay. If they lost power or need a hot meal.”
“That’s just what me and Izzy were doing earlier,” Darcy told him.
“Oh, good, then you’ve seen her? I stopped at her house before yours, but the lights were out and no one answered.”
“Yeah, she came over here when she lost power. She’s good. We went into town like I said, only we used skis instead of snowshoes. If our local pastor isn’t saintly enough to do it without help, then what chance did two girls like us have?”
They laughed at her joke just as Izzy poked her head into the kitchen. “Hey, what’s going on out here? I thought I heard my name… oh, hi Pastor Phin! I was wondering who was at the door.”
“Just me,” he said with a wave. “I was going around town to see if anyone needed help, but Darcy tells me you’ve already done that. God blesses those who care for their neighbors, I can tell you that.”
Izzy pursed her lips with a frown. “Well, God actually took the power away from my house today, so I’m not feeling overly blessed. Except for good neighbors like Darcy, of course. I’m blessed to have her as a friend. She’s letting me stay here until the power comes back on.”
“That’s what she said, and it’s good to hear. Neighbors relying on neighbors. That’s what it’s all about.” He tapped his chin as the kettle began to whistle. “Might have to do a sermon on that after we get everybody dug out from all this glorious white stuff. Oh,
that’s the other thing. I’m gathering volunteers for snow shovel detail after the storm passes. Did you see some of these drifts? There’re some folks can’t even use their front door. Adrian Fowler over on Maple Street was climbing in and out of his second-story window when I saw him. He had a sheet of plywood rigged up from the roof to the snowbank like a slide.”
He laughed at the memory of it. Darcy knew Adrian Fowler. He never came into the bookstore, but he was always at the Town Hall meetings to complain about whatever had gotten under his skin on that particular day. He was never happy. At the next meeting he would no doubt complain about how unprepared Misty Hollow had been for this winter onslaught.
Hmm.
“Did you see anyone else out and about?” Darcy asked him as a sudden thought occurred to her.
“Anyone else? Oh, a few people. Victor Gladstone was trying to walk his dog, quite unsuccessfully, I might add. Wendy Parsons was rowing a canoe around her yard in the snow, if you can believe that. Quite a sight to see, that was! Actually, I’ve spoken with half the town by now. Yours was one of the last streets I was going to check on, what with just the two of you down here. It will be dark soon, and I need to go back and check on things at the church.”
Darcy stirred the cocoa, and then put some milk into it to cool it down a little before handing it to Pastor Phin. “Well, we appreciate you coming to look in on us. Do you need any help down at the church? Like I said, Izzy and I found a way to get around.”
“Oh, that would be just fine, just fine indeed.” He swirled the drink in his cup, inhaling the aroma, and then took a long drink. “This is really good. Maybe I’m just cold but it is really, really good. Thank you, Darcy.”
They talked about this and that for a few minutes. Darcy offered to let him stay with them for a while and get warm but once the hot chocolate was gone, he insisted he had to get moving. There were still a few people to check on, and a couple of the older residents did need a few things, like drinking water and bread, simple things that they just couldn’t go out to get for themselves. Phin had made arrangements with Clara Barstow to donate some of her supplies from the La Di Da deli and sandwich shop. It was going to be a lot of work to collect it and give it out, but Phin had never blinked at helping out whenever anyone needed him.
He was a true friend. Darcy thought the town was lucky to have him here.
After he bundled himself back up tight, he thanked Darcy once more and went back out into the weather, his snowshoes strapped to his feet again. She watched him through the window for maybe half a minute before the swirling flakes swallowed him up from view. She hoped he was right about the eye of this storm coming soon. They could all use a break from the snow.
“Why,” Izzy said, “did you ask Phin who else he saw out and about?”
Darcy was a little embarrassed to admit it, but it was because her mind had already been working on the mystery of the dead father and son. Jon hadn’t been sure if both of them had been murdered or just the little boy, but Darcy had to believe both had met with foul play. With the snowstorm raging like it had been last night… well, that almost certainly meant someone already here, in town, had killed them.
In her experience, there were always plenty of bad people living just down the street. Literally.
“I just wanted to know who might have been out in the storm,” she said. “You know. Um. Like us.”
Izzy crossed her arms, and stuck out her hip, giving Darcy a level look. “You mean, like someone who might have been out in the snow killing two people in a car.”
“Well, yeah, actually. I don’t want to think we have killers among us but it wouldn’t be the first time.”
With a heavy sigh, Izzy uncrossed her arms with a shrug. “You’re right about that. Like with poor Helen.”
A tight feeling clenched the center of Darcy’s chest. Helen Turner had been one of Darcy’s very best friends and now everywhere she turned, there was something to remind her that she was gone. Helen had been a magnet for bad things, from the arrest of her first husband, to the deceit of the next man she fell in love with, and then her own murder not all that long ago. Even for all that, Helen had always found the good in life, and had helped Darcy to do the same. She was certainly a reminder of how bad things happen to good people. Often, when they least expect it.
She put that aside, knowing she would never truly forget Helen, any more than she would ever stop missing Smudge. “Come on. Let’s go back to the couch. The furnace is having a hard time keeping up with the cold and I want to get back under that blanket.”
“Me too,” Izzy agreed. “You’ll never hear me saying I prefer the cold again!”
They were still laughing when they heard the crash from the basement.
From the living room, they heard Colby’s hesitant voice. “Mom?”
“Stay there with your brother,” Darcy told her, trying to keep a sudden sense of dread out of her voice. “It’s probably nothing. You know. Just boxes falling off the shelf or something.”
She saw the look on Izzy’s face. What she said hadn’t fooled her friend at all. She doubted it had fooled her children, either. The boxes down there did fall sometimes, but in the Tinker-Sweet household, nothing was ever that simple.
“Can you stay with the kids?” she whispered to Izzy. “I’m just going to go down and take a quick look.”
Izzy nodded to her, wide-eyed. She might not know everything about Darcy’s secret gift, but she knew things were puzzling in Darcy’s life, to say the least. She’d already seen a dead man today and she wasn’t ready for any more oddness.
Darcy opened the basement door. It was dark down there. They didn’t keep the lights on when they weren’t down here. There was no reason to burn the electricity for a space that was supposed to be empty.
She turned the lights on now. She did not want to be here in the dark. Not if things were falling off shelves, and definitely not if the noise had been caused by anything else. The fluorescent lights blinked on down below as she made her way carefully down. She crouched under the lip of the ceiling, looking left and looking right. She could hear the furnace churning away as it poured heat into the house. From here, everything looked all right.
Two steps from the bottom, she stopped. She heard a noise behind her.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Slowly, she turned to look over her shoulder.
One stair at a time, slowly but surely, the red rubber ball was rolling down to her.
Thump, down one stair.
Thump, the next.
Thump.
Against the rules of gravity and friction and common sense, the ball stopped next to her left foot, rolling sideways until it was resting up against her sock.
“Joel?” she called out tentatively. There was no answer.
Before she bent to pick the ball up, she ran her fingertips over her antique ring.
She squeezed the ball, inspecting it closely. It was definitely the same one. She’d left it upstairs on the shelf in the kitchen. There was no way it could have jumped down from there, bounced its way past Izzy and her kids, and then literally taken a ninety-degree turn to find its way down to her.
Impossible… and yet here it was.
“Meow.”
Darcy jumped and nearly went tumbling down the stairs when she heard the muffled sound of Tiptoe’s greeting. Oh, for Pete’s sake! She hadn’t seen the cat slink around the corner of the shelves and pad her way over. Hadn’t seen her stop and look up at Darcy with unblinking eyes.
Her heart was beating a mile a minute. Her breath was caught in her throat. Calm down, she told herself. It’s just your cat. Ghosts of young boys don’t say ‘meow’ when they sneak up on you.
“Tiptoe, you scared me half to death.” She held a hand to her chest, breathing in and out slowly several times until she relaxed. “Was that you making all that noise down here? You could at least give us some warning, don’t you think?”
“Darcy?”
She didn�
�t jump this time when she heard her name being called down to her… at least, not really. That was Izzy, up in the living room. No doubt she wanted to make sure everything was all right. It had been a minute or two already.
“It’s okay,” she called back up. The stairs weren’t very long, but they weren’t short, either. The basement was ten feet high easy, and then add the height of the beams supporting the entire first floor of the house, and she had to raise her voice to be heard. “It was just Tiptoe. I guess I found where she’s been all this time.”
She wasn’t angry with her cat. More like, she was embarrassed at herself. For a woman who spent her life around ghosts, she had a tendency to get scared way too easy.
Then again, maybe some things were just always going to be scary.
Tiptoe continued to stare up at her, and now that Darcy had calmed down, she saw that there was something in the cat’s mouth. Not a mouse, although Tiptoe had proven to be a very capable mouser, to the point where they hadn’t had one in the house for over a year now. No, this was something else.
The cat’s fur was wet, especially her paws, like she’d been out in the storm.
When Tiptoe saw her noticing the object, she dropped it on the bottom stair. Then she sat back on her haunches and wrapped her tail around her feet. She flicked her left ear, silently waiting for Darcy to tell her she was a good cat.
“Fine, you’re a beautiful cat and we’re lucky to have you. Okay? Now what did you bring us?”
She lowered herself down, sitting on a higher stair as she reached to pick up the thing Tiptoe had dropped. It was small and thick and square, folded and blue. It was wet when Darcy picked it up, too. Tiptoe must’ve brought it in from outside.
A wallet, she realized suddenly. It was a woman’s wallet. Not hers. Not Izzy’s either, and not anything they would have had stored down here in the basement. That was odd. Whose wallet was this, and how did it get here?
She opened it up, and on the inside left flap was a slot with a plastic window for a driver’s license. Darcy gasped when she saw the name next to the picture. Lana Harris.