A Beauty Dark & Deadly (A Dark & Deadly Series Book 1) (9 page)

Chapter 5

Emmy watched with wonder as the woman led her through the labyrinth that was also known as the forest Emmy had so recently been lost in.  The woman, who had introduced herself as Mrs. Franzsky, seemed to have lived here her whole life.  Not even the similar surroundings seemed to daunt her; when she walked, she did so with determination and ease, as though she knew exactly where she was and how to get to where she was going. 

Emmy wasn’t sure if she should envy the older woman or not.  While it was valuable to understand and be thoroughly familiar with the surroundings, the experience was not gained overnight.  Mrs. Franzsky must have gotten lost in these woods a time or two, probably even more than that.  And now she was here, leading Emmy through bushes and thistles, around thick trees, and warning the younger woman to be wary of upturned roots so she wouldn’t trip over them.  Emmy quickly lost track of time as she followed the older woman; how long had she been wandering around, looking for the stray dog?  How long had she and her rescuer been in the forest, attempting to make an exit?  How long had she been away from Jason’s home, and would he really not notice her missing presence?

Now’s not the time to worry about that now, Emm
y
, she thought to herself.
 
Just concentrate on familiarizing yourself with the forest.

Mrs. Franzsky led Emmy to a quaint cottage, somewhat similar to Jason’s home.  However, this cottage was made more of stones while Jason’s was a combination of wood, plaster, and brick.  The cottage was smaller than Jason’s home and did not appear to have any sort of garden attached to any side of the house.  However, while there was no garden, there was an abundance of colorful wildflowers in a variety of different colors, still in bloom.  It definitely gave the cottage a sort of Renaissance vibe, and Emmy felt warm, welcomed, immediately at home in this place.

After fishing for her keys and unlocking the door, Mrs. Franzsky opened the door to her home and held it open so Emmy could enter first.  Once the young woman was safely inside, she followed suit and shut the door behind her.  The first thing Emmy noticed upon walking into the cottage was the large fireplace in the center of the living room.  Emmy had always had a soft spot for fireplaces; she loved scooting as close as she could to the flames at night, with a good book and reading for as long as her eyes would let her.  And judging by the books that seemed to overload her shelves, it would appear Mrs. Franzsky dabbled in the same pastime Emmy did.

“Have a seat,” Mrs. Franzsky instructed warmly, gesturing at the couch across from the fireplace.  “I want to hear all about you!  My, my, when I saw the ad in the local paper for this position, I didn’t think anybody would actually agree to take it.”  Her eyes narrowed immediately as she took a seat across from Emmy, in a nice, cushy armchair.  “You aren’t any sort of reporter or private eye or something, are you?  Because if you are, then let me escort you right back out now.  I don’t take too kindly to people trying to exploit my neighbor when all he wants to do is write in peace.”

“Oh, no, no, no, ma’am,” Emmy said, shaking her head as a faint blush crawled onto her cheeks.  “No, I’m not a reporter or a cop or anything like that.”

“Then why’d you take the job?” the older woman asked, arching a perfectly plucked brow and looking unabashedly at the young woman before her.

“I need the money,” Emmy replied honestly.  She wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed.  “My grandfather is a war veteran.  He uh…”  She could feel her eyes water, and realized how much she really missed her grandfather.  Now, she tilted her head, causing waves of hair to tumble down in front of her face to hide the redness that tainted her cheeks.  “Well, he can’t exactly go to work, and it’s uh… well, it’s been hard – nearly impossible, really – to pay all of his medical bills along with the other bills that go along with owning a house.”

Mrs. Franzsky’s face softened, and she handed Emmy a box of tissues that were conveniently placed next to her on a light stand, which also housed a couple of books.  “And Jason’s offer was quick and paid well,” she finished, and nodded as though she understood the girl before her.  “Yes, that would make the job more appealing.  You’ve been over there a few days now?”  At Emmy’s affirmative murmur, Mrs. Franzsky nodded again.  “And how has he been treating you?”

“He’s very…”  Emmy looked up at the ceiling, as though maybe the right word would be up there.  “…quiet,” she decided.  A smile touched her face, satisfied with the diction.  “Yes, quiet.  He keeps to himself.  But he’s never been… mean, or anything.”  She chewed her bottom lip, unsure of how to word her next question.  Then, she just decided to be direct.  “Do you think he killed them?”

Mrs. Franzsky laughed at Emmy’s abruptness, a gleam that glinted respect towards the young woman.  “My, my, I have no idea,” she said, shaking her head.  Not one strand slipped out of her ponytail, however.  “Jason, before Stacey died, was such a warm, friendly person.  He worked at home and loved leaving little surprises for Stacey whenever she came back from work.  He was such a romantic.  A few months leading up to Stacey’s death, he began to change.  I’m not sure if it was because he found out about her affair, or if it was due to the pressure of his new book.  From what I hear, he would be holed up late at night, well into the morning.  Who knows when that man would sleep?  Who knows if he did?  But his sudden reclusive behavior caused Stacey to crave her lover more than ever, and as such, she became more careless.  When Jason found out, even if he did do it, his heart broke into a thousand pieces.  It was reality for him, and ever since the trial, he’s fallen into the same sort of destructive pattern.”  Again, she paused, pursing her lip.  Her eyes were intent, thoughtful, as she gazed at the floor beneath her booted feet.  “But, I must say,” she continued, locking eyes with Emmy, “if he did commit such an act, the two deserved it, I believe.”

Emmy’s mouth fell open on her own accord, and though she probably should look somewhere else to show some sort of shame at her blunt response and unwavering look, she couldn’t bring herself to look away.  “I…”  She shut her mouth, as though she was attempting to swallow the pointed question that desperately wanted to escape.  However, despite such an action, it managed to slip past her lips, fully intent on being heard.  “I’m sorry, but are you saying they deserved to die for an affair…?”

There were television shows, movies, and books that used this sort of plot thoroughly, but it was hard for Emmy to wrap her head around this sort of thing in real life.  No matter how sweet and how quiet Jason Belmont was, no matter how horrible and conniving his wife and her lover had been, no matter how hurt he was, there was no reason for them to die.

Surprisingly, Mrs. Franzsky did not get defensive, as Emmy originally expected she would.  Instead, she smiled a bit and raised her brow, as though even she could not believe that was the stand she was taking.  “You haven’t been in love ever, have you?” she asked the young woman softly.  Emmy felt her body straighten, surprised at such a personal question, and chose to shake her head very slightly.  “Love is an interesting feeling, Emmy.  It takes the most rational person and makes them… well, goofy, I’d imagine.  Personally, I was the good girl, back in my day, and my husband… well, he was the bad boy.  Tale as old as time, eh?  Good girl falls for bad boy?”  Emmy allowed a polite smile to touch her lips but made no comment.  “There were many things I thought were so important to me before I met him.  Obviously, my family and my education, but selfishly, my collection of Barbie dolls was so incredibly important to me.  Well, one day, I went to go watch him race.  (Street racing was a big thing back then, you know.)  I never really paid much attention to racing, but he had invited me, and so I went.  Well, something went wrong.  He got into a serious accident and was in the hospital for two weeks.  The only time I left his side was to go to school and to go home and sleep.  The first few days, they had no idea if he was going to make it; nobody did.  I knew I loved him when I wouldn’t hesitate to give away my very last Barbie if he would only open his eyes.”  Her eyes had filled up with unshed tears at her recount of the story, but a smile decorated her face.  “And he did.”  She stopped and scrutinized the young woman in front of her.  “I guess what I’m trying to say, dear, is that love changes a person in the best and worst way.”

Emmy let everything Mrs. Franzsky told her sink in.  She breathed in and out, deeply, trying to process her thoughts and filter out any rash defense phrases.  Finally, she said softly yet firmly, “While I understand your point of view, love is not an excuse for murder.”    

“Oh, of course not!” Mrs. Franzsky agreed in a voice that suggested such a thought was rather preposterous.  “Love is definitely not an excuse for such a vile act, but when you feel such an array of emotions that true love comes with, the feeling of killing someone who threatens that love is a tad more understandable.”  Her eyes twinkle mysteriously, and Emmy could swear she was fighting off a smile.  “Now, I have a question for you, my dear.  Let us say you are in love with somebody, truly, madly, and deeply.  Would you fight for it?  Would you fight for your love?” 

This time, Emmy had to look away from Mrs. Franzsky’s stare.  While it was true, Emmy had never been in love before, but there was a hopeless romantic inside of her rationale, kicking and screaming and clawing to be released.  She liked to think that when she did fall in love, and when she found the same person to love her back, she would give herself completely, and no matter what, she would fight for him.  She would protect him, and maybe even die for him.  But she had yet to experience such an intense feeling, and as such, had no idea what she would really do in such a situation.  Surely she would not resort to murder…?  No, of course not.  But, then again, who knew?

“Listen,” Mrs. Franzsky said, seeing the conflicting look in Emmy’s eyes.  “I’m not trying to defend him because, as we both know, murder is inexcusable unless one is defending their family.  But I think I could understand his reasoning, if h
e
di
d
do such a thing.”  Mrs. Franzsky then waved nonchalantly, as though she was carelessly trying to wave a fly away from her.  “It does not matter, now does it?  We don’t know if Jason did such a thing, and really, it’s none of our business.  The only thing that matters is that he’s treating you right.  He’s a very calm and gentle man, Emmy, but very, very lonely.  I’m sure you know what I’m talking about since you’ve been there for a few days now.  It breaks my heart seeing the way he lives, without anyone there with him.  You working for him is good for him; friendly interaction is always good for an isolated person.  And maybe it will turn out to be good for you as well.”  She shrugged nonchalantly, but her eyes twinkled mysteriously.  “You never know.”    

Emmy pressed her lips together, tilting her head slightly to the side.  She let Mrs. Franzsky’s words sink in for a moment.  Maybe Mrs. Franzsky was right.  Maybe she should be nicer to Jason, go out of her way to…

“What do I do?” Emmy asked.  It was a stupid question, she knew, but she couldn’t read this man and didn’t know what made him happy.  Would she have to read one of his books and then tell him that she liked it?  Would she have to learn more about gardening and eat more vegetables – the latter sounding much more difficult to do than the reading.  She wasn’t good at small talk and couldn’t pretend to like someone when she didn’t.  But perhaps… perhaps she could be more open to him.

Mrs. Franzskylaughed at Emmy’s question, but not in a mean way.  She reached out to touch Emmy’s forearm as she did so.  “Oh, dear,” she managed to say once she finally stopped laughing.  “I don’t mean to laugh, really I don’t.  Are you being honest, though?  Do you really not know how to make someone happy?  I’m certain you do.  Don’t think too much on it.  What is it with you young girls and overanalyzing every little thing, trying to be what you think is perfect or ideal, afraid to fall or to make a mistake.  Start out small: Smile at him.  Compliment him.  Tell him, ‘Good morning.’  Make him a cup of coffee when he doesn’t ask for one.  And, more important, talk to him.  But not about him.  He’s very reserved, you see.  Talk to him abou
t
yo
u
.  I guarantee he’ll open up to you.  Slowly.”  She paused, her eyes looking over to the ancient grandfather clock that stood just off to the side of the old-fashioned television.  “Well, dear, you should probably get going.  It’s just after five.  Shouldn’t you be starting dinner?”

“Five?”  Emmy snapped up from the chair and dashed to the front door.  “Um, I’m really sorry, Mrs. Franzsky but I have to go.  It was really nice meeting you!”

She opened the door and burst out into the unfamiliar greenery.  How far away was Jason’s home?  In what direction?  She stopped running, already lost, already panicking.  She should have done her research, should have become familiar with the area before she so foolishly lost herself in the woods.  There were bears here.  When her grandfather took her camping, it was common to see warnings plastered all over the campgrounds and the two would be able to hear them walking around at night.  She didn’t want to be eaten by a bear.  She twirled around, trying to find something familiar.  A path, maybe.  A noise.  The shape of Jason’s home.  Where was the dog, anyways?  Was it okay?