Hiding From Death (A Darcy Sweet Cozy Mystery #6)

COPYRIGHT

First published in Australia by South Coast Publishing, March 2014.
Copyright K.J. Emrick (2014)

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and locations portrayed in this book and the names herein are fictitious.  Any similarity to or identification with the locations, names, characters or history of any person, product or entity is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

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              Darcy Sweet smiled as her boyfriend Jon drove them, finally, back home.  It had been a good weekend for the two of them, away from everything, just enjoying each other’s company.  She had gotten the getaway at their favorite cabin for Jon as a Valentine’s Day gift.  He’d gotten her a rare copy of The Canterbury Tales by Chaucer.  It was one of her favorite books of all time, just the way the prose was written and the fact that it had such an influence on the way books had been written ever since.

             
She leaned across the center console of Jon’s car and rested her head against his shoulder.  When he put his arm around her, she smiled.  She loved books, but she’d brought the edition of Canterbury Tales with her on their weekend away and never opened it up once.  That was how much attention they had paid to each other.  It felt good, to finally spend that kind of time on each other.

             
As they entered the town limits of Misty Hollow, every building, every sight brought back memories.  Their little sleepy town had been host to secrets and murders that had kept Jon, and Darcy, too busy to slow down.  Then there was her sister’s husband, Aaron, who had been kidnapped during a bank robbery over in Oak Hollow.  It seemed like everyone she cared about was getting caught up in some trouble. 

             
It was the middle of February now but already the snows had melted away from the lawns and streets of Misty Hollow.  Winter never really lingered here.  Not like it did in the mountains up north.  It would be chilly still well into March, of course, and she was grateful for the warmth of the car’s heater and her snugly zipped jacket.

             
“What time is it?” she asked Jon.  The clock on his dash had been wrong for months and she could never remember if it was too fast or too slow.

             
“Just after one o’clock in the afternoon,” Jon told her, consulting his wrist watch.  “We made good time.”

             
“You didn’t have any trouble getting today off?”  Today was Monday, and both of them should have been at work.  Jon as a Detective with the Misty Hollow police force, and her at the Sweet Read bookstore here in town.

             
Jon winked at her.  “Nope.  I told them there was some very pressing, very urgent business I had to attend to out of town.”

             
Darcy felt herself blush.  She knew what they had done all weekend.  There had been a certain urgency to it, she supposed.  She looked up at him now, with his short dark hair and stunning blue eyes, and that face that she had memorized so well.  “I love you,” she whispered to him, twining a finger into her own long dark tresses.

             
He held her closer, steering expertly with one hand, and whispered back, “I love you, too.”

             
They turned out of town again on the road that led to her house.  It had been her Aunt Millie’s house, actually, but just like the bookstore it had become hers when her aunt passed away.  It was a big house sitting among tall pine trees, two stories, with white painted siding that was going to need some serious attention come spring.  She was glad she had Jon to share it with her now.  Her black and white cat, Smudge, didn’t quite feel the same way.

             
Darcy smiled.  Smudge would warm up to Jon.  Eventually.

             
On their way to her house they passed by where her friend Anna Louis had lived.  Until she had been murdered.  Darcy shivered to remember it and was rewarded by a squeeze from Jon.  The house was smaller than Darcy’s, just a bottom floor and an overglorified attic that passed as a second story.  The bank had done some renovations to the place since Anna’s death in an attempt to sell it, but a legacy like that was hard for a house to overcome.  No one had lived in it since.

             
Until now, apparently.

             
“Jon, look at that.”

             
“Hmm?”  He turned to look at Anna’s house.  “Hey, look at that.  The lights are on.  I guess they finally sold it.”

             
“That can’t be true,” Darcy said, her mind immediately thinking of trespassers and worse.

             
“No, really,” Jon said.  “Look at the sign.”

             
Darcy did.  The sign he meant was the For Sale sign out front.  On top of it had been placed a little red rectangle that exclaimed “Sold!”  Darcy slumped back in her seat.  Somehow, the idea that someone had been illegally trespassing had sat better with her than knowing that someone had bought Anna’s house and was now living in it.

             
“Are you okay?” Jon asked, picking up on her mood immediately.  “You miss Anna, don’t you?”

             
“Every day,” she admitted, as they pulled into the driveway of their home.

             
As they walked inside the house, Jon grabbed her by her hand and twirled her into a spin.  He caught her again as she laughed, and began swaying with her back and forth, their luggage forgotten.

             
“Jon, what are you doing?”

             
“I’m dancing with you, Darcy Sweet.”

             
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.  There’s no music.”

             
He smiled at her as they danced their way into the kitchen.  “I don’t need music when I’m dancing with you.”

             
They laughed together at his corny remark, and everything was right with the world again.

             
Just past the dining room table he stumbled and fell backward into the wall.  Smudge scooted out from under his feet, a streak of black and white fur.  He zipped to the nearest doorway and then sat there looking at Darcy.  She could almost read his thoughts in those feline eyes.  “You brought him here,” he was saying.  “He’s your problem.”

             
“Are you all right?” she asked him, still smiling, offering a hand that he gladly took.  “Did Smudge do that to you?”

             
“No, no it wasn’t him,” Jon said, a little embarrassed.  “I tripped over these boxes.  Why do we have these boxes here?”

             
Darcy looked down at the two cardboard boxes piled one on the other.  On the side in black marker was written, “Kitchen.”

             
Darcy put a hand on her hip and teasingly screwed her face up at him.  “Because, Mister Tinker, you moved into my house but have yet to put all of your stuff away.”

             
“Oh.  Is that it?”  He bent to his knees and opened the top box.  “Oh, hey, this is my good cooking stuff.  No problem, we’ll just replace all of your older stuff.”

             
“What!”  Darcy knelt next to him and began closing the box again.  He would open it, she would close it, and it became a game that had Darcy in tears she was laughing so hard.  “You will not replace my stuff with these cheap knock offs!”

             
“Cheap!” Jon laughed with her.  “I’ll have you know I spent almost twenty dollars on all five of those frying pans!  Your stuff is old.  Let’s keep mine.”

             
“It might be old but at least I know it won’t burn up the first time I try to fry bacon!”

             
“Mmm,” he said, rubbing his stomach, still holding the frying pan in his hand.  “Sounds good.  Here.  Use this pan and go make us some.”

             
“Jon!” she exclaimed, tackling him from behind and trying to tickle him, the one weakness she knew he had.  Somehow, he turned it back into their dance and soon they were turning circles around the kitchen, Jon holding her in his arm and the frying pan in his hand.

             
When he stopped, he grabbed her frying pan from its hook over the stove.  She had to admit it was older, with the scorch marks on the bottom to prove it, but it was obviously sturdier as he held them up side by side and made a show of comparing them critically, one eye scrunched up.

             
Her stomach hurt at this point, she was laughing so much.  “You know what?” she finally said to him.  “Let’s just keep both.  The more food, the better.”

             
“Deal!” he said at once, hooking both pans above the stove this time.  “I’ll even share the responsibility of washing the dishes.”

             
She leaned up against his chest, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders.  “Sounds good to me.  You’re a great guy, you know that?”

             
“I do.  It’s on my business cards, actually.”

             
She slapped his arm lightly.  “You know what I mean.  You make me happy.”

             
Tilting her chin up he kissed her lips.  It was a long, slow kiss.  When he pulled back from her he looked her deep in her green eyes.  “If I make you happy, then I’m doing something right.  Come on, let’s finish unpacking those boxes before I trip and kill myself.”

             
They put pots and pans and cooking utensils away, sometimes cramming them in where there wasn’t any space for them.  When they were done, Jon threw the boxes out the back door ceremoniously.  “There,” he proclaimed.  “I am officially moved in.”

             
From his doorway, Smudge mewled and Darcy would have sworn he rolled his eyes.

             
Jon looked at the cat skeptically.  “Do you think he’ll ever accept me taking up so much of your life?”

             
“Give him time,” she told him.  “Smudge is used to being the only man in my life.”

***

              The next morning, Darcy woke up to the sunlight slanting into their bedroom window.  Smudge stirred and stretched between her legs, comfortably curled up on the blankets.  Jon’s arm was across her belly.  The clock told her it was still an hour before she actually had to get up, but she decided to make an early day of it.

             
After a shower with the water turned up really hot Darcy went downstairs to make herself some eggs.  Smiling, she plucked down Jon’s cheap frying pan and mixed scrambled eggs with milk and chopped green pepper and a few other ingredients.  The fragrant smell of cooking filled the air.

             
Jon came down just as she was dividing the eggs onto two plates.  She had planned on keeping his wrapped in the microwave but she smiled as she saw him.  This was much better.

             
“Good morning,” he said to her, scrubbing a hand through his hair and coming over to kiss her lightly on the cheek.  “That smelled so good I just had to come see.”  He peeked over her shoulder and raised a knowing eyebrow seeing his frying pan there on the stove.

             
They ate at the kitchen table, talking about this and that, about the weekend at the cabin, about what they had to do at work today.  It was a leisurely meal with plenty of time for both of them to wake up.  It was a rare thing for both of them.  Soon enough, though, it was time to finish getting ready.