The Greatest Gift (A Darcy Sweet Mystery) Read online

  This was something more than that.

  Jon noticed Darcy's discomfort and without missing a beat began asking the questions they had worked out last night. "You're aware of a secret door that Belinda had installed two years ago?"

  Darcy thought the man would faint. He somehow managed to keep his voice even and smooth, even as his eyes darted around as if looking for escape. "Sure do. I had to give her the building permit. Nice work, too. Some company out of Oak Hollow. I have the forms inside. All in order. Why, are you looking to have something done like that in your house? Oh, I always liked your Great Aunt's house, Darcy. So much character."

  The man was talking a mile a minute and his eyes twitched all over, looking everywhere but at them. Giattano was definitely hiding something. Darcy could see why the Whedons had immediately pointed to him as a good suspect. Maybe that was the cold feeling Darcy was feeling. Maybe her sixth sense was trying to tell her they were two steps closer to finding who was invading Belinda's home.

  She heard laughter from further in the building. Or had she imagined it?

  Jon's phone rang from his pocket. "Hold on a minute. I have to take this."

  Jon's eyebrows knitted and he stepped back down the hall the way they had come in with a meaningful glance at Darcy. The call was important, but he couldn't tell her why in front of Giattano. She'd just have to stall.

  "So, Mister Franco," she said.

  "Uh, please, call me Giattano." He held his hand out, making no move to invite her into the office. "You're Darcy, right? Darcy Sweet? You own the bookstore in town."

  "That's right," she said with a smile as they shook hands. "Belinda and Dominic were good friends of my Great Aunt Millie. We're helping Belinda out with a problem, Jon and I. That's why we wanted to know what was so special about the door to Belinda's basement?"

  "Special?" Giattano parroted. "Nothing special. It's just a door." He laughed, but it didn't sound convincing.

  "Oh? Hmm," she said, pretending to consider something. "That's odd. Why would you track down the company that installed that door if it wasn't important?"

  "You mean those Handyman Express people?" He seemed to relax, his eyes finally turning to look directly at her. It was like now that Darcy had told him why they were here, he knew what to say. "Well, you know, I take my job as code enforcement officer very seriously. Those people didn't apply for a permit before installing that new door on my aunt's home. Can't have that."

  Darcy wasn't convinced. "See, that's what I thought at first, but then the people who own Handyman Express told Jon how odd it was for you to ask them about it at all. Something about how a code enforcement officer, such as yourself, is normally only concerned with major structural changes or new construction. Not about what someone's door looks like."

  Giattano swallowed. He went back to sputtering and his eyes looked away again. "Well. You know. I don't know how the code enforcement officer over in Oak Hollow does things, but here in Misty Hollow we do things right. Yes. That's it."

  A fresh chill went up her spine when Giattano mentioned the two Hollows. The similarity had always struck her as funny, Oak Hollow and Misty Hollow, but in an area with so many hills and low-laying stretches of land, it wasn't outside the realm of possibility. She ignored the cold prickly feeling of someone staring at her and instead listened to what Giattano was saying, promising to investigate the Town Hall some other day. When she had more time.

  "I don't trust those people at Handyman Express anyway," Giattano said. "I checked up on them. Both of the Whedons have records, you know. Criminals. I just can't abide them. You know?"

  "What kind of record?" Darcy asked, immediately interested.

  "Breaking and entering, mostly." Giattano seemed very sure of himself again as he gave up this gossip, turning the attention from him to someone else. "I suppose that's why they're so good with repairing and installing locks, hm?"

  Jon put his cell phone away and said, "I'm sorry, Darcy, we need to go. Thank you for your help, Mister Franco."

  "Oh, anytime, anytime." With a sigh of relief that the conversation was over Giattano whisked into his office and closed the door behind him.

  "He's hiding something," Darcy said to Jon.

  "Probably, but it doesn't matter." When she looked up to ask what he meant, he whispered, "That was Belinda who called. She says the ghost is in her house right now."

  ***

  "Jon, there is no ghost," Darcy insisted. "I told you that."

  He took a corner too fast and Darcy could see the shocked looks on the faces of two people standing at the curb as they watched Jon's car squeal through the turn. Two people she knew. Two people who no doubt would already be calling their friends to spread the gossip about what they had just seen.

  That crazy Darcy Sweet woman is at it again, they would say. Whatever.

  "You're not a police officer here anymore," she reminded him, clutching the sides of her seat to hold herself steady. "You may want to slow down before you get yourself a ticket."

  "We need to be there now." He slowed finally, but only to remember which street he needed, then his foot was on the gas pedal again. "Besides, Chief Daleson likes me. He said so yesterday when I spoke to him."

  "You talked to the police chief? Here?" Darcy asked. "Why?"

  "That's her house there," he said, ignoring her question.

  They pulled over and parked on the side of the street behind a large green truck with oversized tires and a "Just Drive" bumper sticker. "Belinda said she was upstairs in her bedroom and could hear this ghost of hers downstairs. Can you go around to the back, and I'll come in the front? With luck we'll catch whoever's masquerading as her dead husband by surprise."

  Darcy started to say yes, then corrected herself. "Wait. I have a better idea."

  ***

  When she heard Jon crashing in through the front door, making just as much noise as he could, yelling "Police officer! Don't move!" at the top of his lungs, Darcy readied herself.

  Jon always did know how to make an entrance.

  Bare seconds passed as Darcy stared at the metal hatchway doors leading up from the basement of the Franco home. She counted them off in her head, and when she got to twenty-eight, the doors swung upward very slowly, and very silently.

  Darcy had taken up a position at the back corner of the house, where she would be able to see those doors when Belinda's "ghost" tried to make his—or her—escape. Sure enough, someone dressed all in black was coming up through those doors now, obviously trying to rush and to be silent at the same time. From black hiking boots to a puffy black ski jacket to a black mask with material covering even the eyeholes and mouth, the person was so covered up that Darcy couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman.

  "Stop right there!" she called out, jumping out from her hiding spot, raising an accusing finger. "Jon! Jon, they're out here!"

  The person turned, apparently stunned with disbelief at being caught, and for just a moment hung suspended like a statue.

  Then they turned and ran.

  Darcy was surprised. Then she was angry with herself for being surprised. How many times would it take for her to remember that telling someone not to move was the quickest way to get them to run?

  It wasn't until the next second when Darcy's brain put her legs in gear and she started chasing after the person in black. Jon came out the back door at exactly that moment and Darcy pointed ahead of her at the retreating form. Jon took off like a shot, but Darcy had the sinking feeling that it was already too late.

  Unfortunately her hunch proved to be correct. Through a hedge row on the next property over they ran, tailing the mysterious figure in black, Darcy's arms being mercilessly scratched up by the branches of shrubs that were taller than she or Jon. When they came out the other side, their suspect was nowhere to be seen.

  They were in someone's back yard, a wide expanse of carefully mown grass. Darcy could hear street noises off to her right, and then a car door slammed and a vehicle drove awa
y. She didn't need to see it to know that was their suspect driving away.

  "He got away," Jon said, repeating her thoughts, panting for breath. It had been a short sprint but they had given it their all. It just hadn't been good enough.

  Chapter Ten

  "How did you know?" Jon asked her. Back in Jon's car, they drove around and around Misty Hollow, with no real goal in mind other than talking about what to do next.

  "When I was downstairs with Belinda," Darcy explained, "looking at her treasures, I saw the hatchway. It wasn't locked then. I checked. I locked it before we left, of course, but I figured if whoever was doing this got in once, they would get in again."

  "Smart," he complimented her. "So. We know the motive is this money Belinda is supposed to be hiding in her house, but who do we think is doing it?"

  "Not Giattano," she said, crossing that name off her mental list. "That leaves Rita, and Cassidy and Angela Whedon."

  "The Handyman Express owners? Why them?" He slowed for a man and a woman holding hands to cross the street at an intersection, looking over at her as he did.

  "Giattano mentioned how those two had criminal records, and also how they were experts at installing locks. If someone is constantly picking the lock on the basement hatchway, then it stands to reason they know something about locks."

  They watched the couple cross to the other side of the street, Darcy wishing that she could be walking around with Jon now just like that instead of trying to solve yet another problem for her neighbors. At the same time, it felt right to be doing this with him. To be helping people who needed it. Together.

  "Hm," he said thoughtfully. "I didn't know about that when I spoke to them. I'll call back to my people in Oak Hollow and ask them to interview those two again. At least get an alibi for this morning. Speaking of such things, don't you need to get back to the bookstore?"

  She sighed. Yes, she did. She really wanted to play hookey and let Izzy watch the place for the day, again, but she'd been doing that too much already as it was. Not that she didn't trust Izzy, but it wasn't fair to her.

  "Too many responsibilities?" he asked her suddenly, in that voice that used to make her melt.

  "Something like that. With mom's wedding coming up, and the store, and Grace's baby on the way, and this thing with Belinda, and…"

  She trailed off, and in the silence that followed he reached over and held her hand with his. "It will be all right," he said to her. "We'll figure everything out."

  She couldn't say why, but somehow, this time, she believed him.

  ***

  It had to be Rita. Didn't it?

  Darcy had debated this out with herself for two solid hours, working in the bookstore more or less on autopilot, selling books to people with a smile, even selling three e-readers one right after the other. It was a good sales day, to be sure.

  After, staring at the register, she couldn't remember a single person who had been in the store. That was how distracted she was.

  She growled and shook her head. "This is stupid."

  "What's that?" Izzy asked from over in the history section.

  "Nothing, I guess," Darcy told her. "I've just got a lot on my mind."

  "Jon, you mean?" Izzy winked.

  "Well, yes, him. But this trouble that I'm helping Belinda Franco with is bugging me and I can't keep my mind on my work."

  Izzy came over, two copies of American History: The Real Story tucked under one arm. "Darcy, it's all right if you want to go take care of that. I've got this."

  Darcy looked at her friend. Izzy and she had grown close over the last few months. It was good to have someone to depend on, someone you shared secrets and troubles with. "That would be wonderful, Izzy. Are you sure?"

  Izzy shrugged. "You saved me from a murder charge. I think I can cover for you one more time. After all, isn't that what friends do? They help each other out."

  Darcy came around the sales counter and gave Izzy a hug. "Thank you. I've just got so much going on right now."

  She went into the office and made a few notes for herself for tomorrow. She was really going to have to put in some hours this week and next to make up for the time she had spent away from the store.

  From the shelf over the desk, a book fell, thumping in the middle of Darcy's carefully penned note, causing her to leave a long scratching pen mark across the page.

  "Millie!" Darcy laughed. "I'll find time to hang out with you, too. Just not now. Okay?"

  On her way out she thanked Izzy again. A mother and a young child of maybe three were coming in as she was leaving, and she held the door for them to get in before stepping outside to get her bicycle and head for—

  Wait.

  She looked in through the front window of the store, watching the child pick through the kids' books with a big smile as his mother chatted with Izzy. Something had clicked in Darcy's mind.

  Holding the door open for someone.

  Her mind added that idea to something Izzy had just said to her and suddenly the question of who was "haunting" Belinda became a whole lot clearer.

  If she was right…

  She needed to find Jon.

  ***

  "Are you sure?" Jon asked her. This time, they were both hiding inside Belinda's home. They were in the living room, sitting on the floor behind one of the couches. The furniture had low backs, but if they sat down like this they would be hidden from the view of anyone coming up through that special door.

  Darcy answered Jon's question with one word. "Yes." She was sure. They were going to find their would-be thieves tonight.

  She had explained her plan to Jon twice, repeating it when he asked her to, before standing back with a smile to watch the way his eyes sparked when he caught on to what she was saying. He had pulled her into a tight hug, and then kissed her.

  Oh, how she wished they were doing that now.

  After she had finally permitted him to step out of the embrace, they had set the plan into motion. Now, they waited to see if it bore fruit.

  Belinda had left her house an hour ago, very publicly, calling across to one of her neighbors to tell them, in a loud voice, that she was going out for the evening. If anyone had been watching, there was no way they could have missed that performance.

  "You know," Jon said, "in a way I'm kind of sorry for Belinda. Here she thought her dead husband had come back to take care of her, and it turns out that it's just a common case of greed. Someone trying to steal from her."

  Darcy pushed back a few strands of her dark hair that had fallen into her face. "I see what you mean. I suppose everyone deserves to have the people they loved watch over them even after death."

  "We need to talk," he said so suddenly that she thought her mind would get whiplash.

  "Uh," she stammered. "Jon…"

  "I know, I know. We're on a stakeout and this isn't the time. The thing is, there's never a good time for us. I was going to wait until we were done with this but we've been sitting here for an hour already. My butt is going numb."

  In spite of herself she giggled. "No, wait. Don't make me laugh. Not after saying that. You can't just say that and then be all cute and funny. I've given you plenty of opportunities to talk about this."

  He raised an eyebrow. "So you do think I'm cute?"

  She shoved his shoulder hard, and he rocked back on the floor. He smiled, and she smiled back, even if she was mad at herself for it.

  "It's kind of important, what I need to say, is the thing," he said, settling back into a sitting position. "It's about us."

  Oh, thank God, Darcy thought to herself. Finally. But here? Now?

  "I had a long talk with Chief Daleson yesterday," he told her, confirming what she had suspected. "After I filled him in on what we were doing here I had a talk with him about my old job. Things are still unsettled for me over in Oak Hollow. Those burglaries, for example. I can't just leave the investigation half done. But—"

  He stopped, and raised a finger to his lips. Oh, for Pete's sa
ke, she thought. No way. He did not get to shush her just as he was getting to the good part!

  Darcy heard it then, too. The sound of the hidden door to the basement being opened. She ground her teeth together. The bad guys would come now, right in the middle of her chance to finally find out what was going on in Jon's head. Just her luck.

  Jon pulled out his gun from its clip-on holster at his waist. Darcy had asked him if he thought it was really necessary. He'd given her that cop look he did sometimes and reminded her about all the times they'd had to fight with someone to arrest them. Including her use of a frying pan over a man's head, once. She hadn't argued after that.

  Keeping low below the back of the couch, they listened to the sound of the door thumping gently against the wall as it was pushed open all the way. Next, they heard the voice.

  "I can't believe it's taking this long to find that money," Rita said. "I seriously thought I was going to go crazy working for the old bat so long. Day after day after day, searching the house the whole time and knowing I had to come back the next day and search some more. Where is it?"

  Jon looked at Darcy, and nodded. This was the part they both had been sure of. Once Darcy explained what she had figured out, it was obvious that Rita was involved. It was the next part, what was going to happen now, that they had placed a bet on.

  Darcy held her breath.

  "Maybe it's because you're nearsighted. Or just slow," a man's voice said.

  They both recognized it immediately.

  Giattano Franco.

  Darcy blew a kiss at Jon. She'd won the bet.

  Jon rolled his eyes. He'd been sure that either Cassidy or Angela Whedon, or both of them, were involved with Rita on this caper. She mouthed the words "pay up" to him, and he whispered back, "later."

  It had occurred to Darcy that there were two people invading Belinda's house. One to search, one to keep watch. That's how they could disappear with such ghost-like swiftness. That's how they were able to search a room as quietly and quickly as Darcy had witnessed that first day she had come over to talk to Belinda, with books taken off shelves and stacked up and furniture and photographs moved around without a sound.