A Darcy Sweet Mystery Box Set Six Page 8

  In her driveway, Darcy took out a twenty dollar bill and gave it to Donnie. He looked at it and frowned. “It’s just ten dollars, Mrs. S. How much change do you want?”

  “None today, Donnie. Consider the rest of it a tip for the great conversation.”

  He brightened at that and thanked her while she got herself out of the car. For all of its bulk, the inside of the HHR was cramped. When she was finally out and hobbling away, he beeped that funny little horn and waved, heading back toward town and hopefully to another job.

  The HHR backfired loudly before he’d gone a hundred feet, black smoke roiling from the muffler.

  Darcy kept herself from laughing out loud. Donnie was a good guy. Misty Hollow could definitely use a taxi service, too. It would be too bad if it ended because Donnie couldn’t afford to get his car fixed.

  Up on the front steps, Tiptoe was waiting for her. The gray cat was laying down with her paws tucked under her, staring off into the distance. She didn’t look up as Darcy took a moment to scratch between her ears. Darcy had given up trying to keep her cats inside a long time ago. Smudge had figured a secret way out of the house when he was still a kitten himself, and obviously he’d shown his secret to Tiptoe.

  “Hey there, kitten. Where’s Smudge? Where is that father of yours?”

  The cat turned her gaze up to Darcy, and blinked.

  Not much of an answer.

  “Okay. Well. Good talk. Tell him to come find me. You guys can get a little bit of milk before dinner.”

  Tiptoe stood up with her tail drooping. Then she jumped down, and walked away.

  Darcy shrugged. Guess she wasn’t hungry.

  Then she stopped, and she thought about it. If Tiptoe was that upset, and Smudge wasn’t around anywhere, did that mean…?

  No.

  Oh, please no.

  Fumbling the key out of her pocket she jabbed it in the lock and twisted the door open and got herself inside and called out for her old black and white tomcat.

  “Smudge? Hey, buddy, where are you?”

  She listened to the house around her, her mind flashing back to a time when Smudge had been taken away from her, catnapped, and she had moved Heaven and Earth to get him back and now if he was gone again she didn’t know what she was going to do.

  Then he was there, walking slowly into the kitchen, looking up at her as if to ask what all the commotion was about.

  Darcy sighed in relief. “You scared me, you big fur face. Did you and Tiptoe have a fight or something? She’s out there sulking.”

  He moved from foot to foot, the cat equivalent of a shrug.

  “Okay. Family drama. I get it. Anyway, come here. How about some milk?”

  He looked at the fridge, obviously liking that idea, but before Darcy could even make it two steps he turned around and went back into the living room.

  “Hey. Where are you going?”

  She followed him, because she knew from long experience that when Smudge did something out of the ordinary—like turning down milk—there was a very good reason for it.

  He was waiting for her in the living room, looking over his shoulder to make sure she was coming before jumping up on the couch. It took him a few tries of stretching himself up and then sitting back down before he could make the short leap up onto the cushions. He was so old now that it was hard to remember him as the spry kitten who used to get himself stuck climbing in trees, so high up that there was no way for him to get down until Darcy got a ladder to help him.

  On the couch, he pointed his face at the end table on this side, and the blinking light on the message machine.

  “Oh. Somebody called.” Now she understood his urgency to get her in here. The call must have been important. “Thanks Smudge.”

  She pushed play.

  The machine beeped.

  “Mrs. Tinker. My name is Oscar Bismuth. I’m the owner of the Lockbox Firm in Rose Lake. From what I understand, you have some questions about my business. I would be happy to discuss what we do, or what we don’t do for that matter. I also understand you have concerns over a missing employee of ours. Perhaps you should talk to me before you go making accusations that could possibly get someone hurt.”

  There was a noticeable pause, and Darcy knew it was for dramatic effect. This Oscar Bismuth wanted her to understand the threat behind those words.

  “I’ll be on my way to Misty Hollow tomorrow, Mrs. Tinker. See you then.”

  The voice message ended, and the machine beeped one long note before going silent.

  “Well,” Darcy said, sitting down on the couch next to Smudge. “That’s very nice of him to come all this way just to see me, don’t you think?”

  Smudge looked at her from narrowed eyes, switching his tail.

  “Yeah, I figure he’s just trying to cover his butt, too.”

  On the message he sounded like a man who was used to getting what he wanted. Someone who didn’t tolerate anyone who stood in the way of him getting it. In other words, not a very nice guy.

  He also hadn’t done his homework very well. She was Darcy Sweet. Not Mrs. Darcy Tinker.

  Which Oscar Bismuth would know, if he’d bothered to do his homework.

  They had certainly spooked him though. Jon’s phone call over to Rose Lake must have made some people nervous. Jon had spoken to that manager, Akalia, and she must have gotten right on the phone to her boss to let him know. Now the owner of the whole company was coming to talk to her. Not to Jon, even though he was the one who made the call.

  Apparently her reputation preceded her.

  Rubbing Smudge’s fur under his chin the way he liked, Darcy settled back on the couch, and stared up at the ceiling. Dealing with ghosts and solving mysteries was always exhausting. It was even more so now, with a bum leg to drag around. There was still so much to do. She still had to explain to Jon where she thought Marcia Faber was buried. She wasn’t sure what new information she might get from talking to Oscar Bismuth, but she had every reason to believe that Matt Courson was involved in the murder.

  She had to start getting things ready for Thanksgiving in a week…

  No, no. That could wait.

  Jon had to look deeper into Matt Courson’s background, because he had that necklace and he sort of creeped Darcy out in the store today. Not that they could arrest people for being creepy, but didn’t all the great detectives of literary history consider that as a clue to guilt? Being creepy, check.

  So much to do, and her sitting here handicapped—literally—by a broken leg.

  Then again, the mysteries she’d investigated were hardly ever that easy. Why should this one be any different?

  At least the kids weren’t home right now and she could just relax for a minute. Smudge pushed his head against her hand, and the couch cushions contoured to her body, and as tired as she was she started to drift away. Colby would be home soon from school and she would need to be awake then but right now… couldn’t she just close her eyes for a minute? Aaron wouldn’t be bringing Zane home until around suppertime, and it wasn’t like Colby wouldn’t wake her up when she got here. She was always full of energy right after school. More energy than Darcy ever seemed to have herself.

  “Do you think I’m getting too old for this, Smudge?”

  He purred a little louder, but flicked his tail at the same time, and looked up at her with a definite cat-like stare. Are you kidding me? If anyone was getting old it was him. A fact he probably wasn’t happy to be reminded of.

  She really had been scared when she got home and he wasn’t there to meet her. Well. He was here with her now. She would have her furry friend with her for a while longer yet.

  Colby had been right when she said that everyone dies, and death wasn’t something to be afraid of. What she was missing was the part about how sad it was to lose someone so full of life, and know that you wouldn’t get to see them ever again. Except as a ghost, in her case.

  She scruffed up the fur around his neck. She was going to treasure every
minute she had with him, before there weren’t any more to have.

  It was several long moments later when she realized she actually had fallen asleep. She sat up on the couch, reaching for Smudge, but he was gone again. Blinking and rubbing at her eyes Darcy got up and walked into the kitchen. She might as well start getting supper ready. Aaron and Grace and Addison were staying for dinner after they brought Zane back.

  She went around the kitchen, humming to herself, taking random boxes and jars out of the cupboards, not caring if they really went together or not. Canned peaches and spaghetti, tuna fish and a box of gravy mix, Choco Crunch cereal and caramel syrup.

  Well. Maybe those last two would go good together but what was she supposed to make out of the rest of it?

  Spinning across the floor to the refrigerator, she thought about maybe just ordering a pizza.

  Then she stopped. Her fingers were wrapped around the long handle of the fridge, and she just stood there, trying to understand...

  Had she just been dancing across her kitchen floor?

  She looked down.

  Her feet were bare. Her jean shorts showed off her tan legs. Both of them.

  The cast on her leg was gone. Experimentally, she wiggled her toes. She put weight down on her foot. She felt fine. Just as good as she had before her accident.

  Darcy leaned her forehead down against the cool plastic of the freezer door. This wasn’t really happening.

  “Can’t even rest in my dreams,” she muttered.

  This was a part of her gift that popped up sporadically, at odd times when she wasn’t expecting it. Dreams that were more than dreams. Usually she knew right away that she was dreaming because something would be very odd, or out of place. Like her leg being suddenly all better, when just two seconds ago she’d been trying to figure out how to get at that itch under her cast while she closed her eyes on the couch.

  From behind her, she heard someone clear their throat at the dining table. “There are times, dear, when you have to learn to see things differently before they become clear.”

  Darcy smiled as she turned around. Great Aunt Millie always did know how to make an entrance.

  She looked exactly like Darcy remembered her in life, filling up the room around her with her presence even if she was shorter than Darcy and just a little bit plump. The long black dress was what she typically wore whenever she appeared. That rose-colored string of pearls had only shown up recently, however. That necklace had been an anniversary present from her husband decades before her death. Apparently even ghosts got nostalgic.

  “Hello, Millie.” Darcy went over to give her great aunt a hug. “Always good to see you again. I take it you’re here to give me some cryptic advice about Marcia Faber’s murder. Advice that I won’t understand until it’s almost too late, I’m guessing?”

  Millie pursed her lips. “Don’t be cheeky, now. My advice is always helpful.”

  “Just not always timely,” Darcy reminded her.

  “I know what I’m doing, thank you.” She folded her arms on the table and motioned for Darcy to join her. “Besides. Maybe I’m only here to remind you about Thanksgiving.”

  “Oh, not you too.” Darcy sat in the chair next to her aunt. When she did, she felt a twinge in her leg. It was just a little ache, just enough to remind her that reality was waiting for her when she woke up. “I’ll make sure the dinner is great and everyone is happy. It’s the best I can do, Millie. I can’t pretend to be thrilled about another dinner with everyone together, when I’ll have to wonder what secrets I’ll find out this time. Did you know that my mother had the same family gift as us? I mean, she is your niece, Aunt Millie.”

  Millie fiddled with the sleeves of her dress. The white curls of her hair bounced as she shook her head. “I suspected she did, but Eileen was always a private person. I didn’t want to pry.” She tapped her fingers on the table, remembering. “Whatever spark of the gift she had was so small that she would never be able to do anything with it. Tiny. Miniscule, even. She and I made our peace with each other about it and then we went our separate ways. That was pretty much the end of our story. I’m glad she finally opened up to you. I’m so proud of the way your family has come back together. It does my old bones good to see it.”

  “Aunt Millie, you don’t have bones. You’re a ghost.”

  “Oh, and ghosts can’t be proud for their favorite nieces?”

  Darcy felt herself smile. “I don’t know if I’ve said it enough Millie, but thank you for sticking around. Having you here for Colby’s birth, and now Zane’s… that means the world to me.”

  “Those two children are a wonder, aren’t they? Colby’s got the gift strong as I’ve ever seen it. Zane’s a special one too, he is. They’re both of them just so beautiful.”

  “Yeah,” Darcy agreed, “they are. Things will be easier for Zane, I think, not having to learn how to handle the gift like me and you and Colby have.”

  A shout from the living room interrupted the conversation. “No way!”

  Darcy knew that voice, even though it took her a moment to place it.

  “No, no, no, no! No way!”

  She leaned back, holding onto the table to balance her chair on two legs. In the living room, sitting on the floor, she saw Tiptoe playing a video game on the television. One of the controllers was in her paws as she frantically worked the buttons. Darcy had forgotten they even had that gaming console. What was it… X-box? PlayStation? She couldn’t remember, it had been that long since either her or Jon had taken it out to use. Colby had no interest in it.

  Apparently, Tiptoe did.

  “Yeah!” she hollered now, sitting cross-legged on the floor, as tall as Darcy and still a kitten. Her tail swished back and forth against the couch behind her as she concentrated intently on the game. “No, no, no, don’t go in there! Go that way. That way!”

  The sounds of explosions and racing cars grew louder as Darcy went in to stare at this impossible scene. Only in her dreams would one of her cats be playing a video game like this, as intent on it as a teenager. Which, she supposed, was exactly what Tiptoe was… in cat years.

  “That’s right! Yeah! Just like that!”

  Darcy wished she had a camera. She would have dearly loved to show Jon a picture of this. “Hey, Tiptoe, when did you get into video games?”

  “You don’t know me,” she mrowled, never taking her attention off the game. “Just let me do my thing.”

  Attitude from her own cat. Great. She had figured this was something she wouldn’t have to deal with until Colby got to be thirteen. It never occurred to her that she might have to deal with Tiptoe’s mood swings.

  Darcy stepped closer, running a hand over the soft fur of Tiptoe’s shoulder. “Hey, seriously, shouldn’t you be chasing mice or something?”

  Tiptoe worked her paws over the controller, slapping at it furiously. “See? You think I’m nothing but a cat. You don’t have any idea about me. Nobody understands me.”

  Okay, this was getting surreal even for a dream. “Tiptoe, do you know where your dad is? Where’s Smudge?”

  Yanking her shoulder away, the hair at the back of her neck bristling, she threw the controller down on the floor as hard as she could. “You don’t know me! You’ll never understand the things I’m going through! Just leave me alone!”

  Darcy stared in disbelief as Tiptoe spun away, the right size to be a cat again, and raced upstairs. Just like that, she was gone.

  On screen, the game had paused. It was an overhead view of their house. Tiptoe had been playing a game happening right here, trying to control something she had no control over.

  Aunt Millie was suddenly standing right beside her. “It’s hard, raising a child.”

  “Tiptoe’s not my child,” Darcy said. “She’s my cat.”

  “Oh, dear, no. I wasn’t talking about you raising your children. I meant Smudge, of course.”

  Darcy gave her aunt a look.

  Millie chuckled. “As I said, dear. Sometime
s you have to look at something differently in order to see it clearly.”

  “There’s the cryptic advice I’ve come to know and love.” They went over to the couch, and sat down together. “So, are you talking about Marcia Faber’s murder now, or are you talking about Smudge again?”

  As if saying his name had called him into her dream, she felt Smudge’s meager body weight settle against her again, and heard him clear his throat. “It’s not always about me, you know. Just usually.”

  Darcy opened her eyes, and there was Smudge still, laying his head against her good leg. The one in the cast was still itching like crazy. The world around them came slowly into focus as she woke up from her nap.

  “Well,” she said, stroking behind Smudge’s ears. “That was enlightening.”

  A meow from the stairs caught her attention. Tiptoe stood there, looking through the upright poles of the railing, her eyes bright and her whiskers twitching.

  Darcy smiled at her.

  With a single blink, the little gray cat turned and went slowly upstairs.

  It was as much of an apology as Darcy could expect from a teenager.

  She heard the front door banging open and Colby calling for her, and then the sound of the bus driving away. With a final scratch for Smudge and a big stretch for herself, Darcy reached for her crutch.

  “Sorry, Old Man,” she said as she slid out from under Smudge. “Time for me to go spend some time with my daughter. Maybe you should do the same with yours.”

  He grumbled something deep in his throat, and then dropped down from the couch. She couldn’t tell if the reason he was moving so slowly across the room and to the stairs was because of his age, or if he was just dragging his heels over whatever was going on between him and Tiptoe.

  Who knew the life of cats could be so complicated?

  By the time Aaron and Grace arrived, Darcy had put together a minor feast of pork chops and steamed broccoli and angel hair pasta. Jon had helped after he got home but Darcy had finished all the prep work so basically all he had to do was watch over the food while it cooked. The rolls needed another minute or two in the oven but their small kitchen dining table was set and everything smelled wonderful.