The Greatest Gift (A Darcy Sweet Mystery) (7 page)

The two frames were side by side, but it was obvious that the long, narrow one had the wrong newspaper clipping in it.  The article barely fit, crumpled at the bottom where someone—obviously not Belinda—had shoved it in behind the glass.

Now who would have switched those articles, Darcy wondered.  More importantly, why?

"Oh, I know."  Belinda smiled suddenly, nodding her head.  "My Dominic has been playing his tricks."

Darcy wasn't so sure.  Piling books up into teetering stacks was one thing.  It seemed a little beyond the scope of what even a poltergeist was capable of to expect that Dominic had come down here in spirit form, taken the frames down, removed the articles, swapped them, and then put the frames back together and up on the wall.

So, if it wasn't a ghost, and
wasn't Belinda, then who had switched the articles in their frames?

"Belinda," Darcy asked as a thought
suddenly occurred to her, "who built that hidden door for you?  Do you remember?"

"Oh, certainly."
  She nodded, but then scrunched her brows in thought.  "I've used the same people for different things since then.  A contracting company out of Oak Hollow.  They do such nice work."  She snapped her fingers.  "Ah, yes.  Handyman Express.  That's the name.  I'm sure I have the number upstairs.  Why?  Are you going to have some work done to Millie's old house?  I always told your Aunt that she should have that front porch redone."

"No, nothing like that.
  But do you think you could find that phone number for me?"  Darcy saw Jon looking at her, wondering what she was thinking.  She'd have to tell him later.

"I can get the number
," he said, taking out his cell phone and heading for the stairs.  "Let me make a call to my precinct over in Oak Hollow.  We probably have this Handyman Express in our files there."

She watched him
disappear upstairs, for a better cell signal no doubt.  Then she gave the room another good look.  Not much here.  If someone had come in here, what could they have been looking for?

Th
inking the answer might be as simple as looking at what was right in front of her, Darcy read through the two articles, where Belinda had replaced them on the wall.  One was a review of Dominic's performance in a production of Guys and Dolls, which had run on Broadway for four months.  It was very complimentary, but didn't seem to offer any insight into the current situation.  The other was an interview with Dominic himself.  It talked about how he had grown up in a small town in Canada, and how he had just met the woman who he knew would be the love of his life.  Belinda, no doubt, although the article didn't specify.  The rest of the article dealt with his techniques for stage performance.  Interesting, but again not helpful.

The other frames held more of the same, all except one.  On the wall to the right of the stairs was a large photo of Belinda and Dominic, dancing with each other, him in a tuxedo and Belind
a in a long ball gown.  Their love for each other shone on their faces.

One more time, Darcy reached out with her sixth sense and tried to feel the presence of any ghost, any spirit, anything from the other side that might be haunting Belinda Franco.  Once again, she felt nothing.  She was going to have to approach this mystery from another direction.

If it wasn't a ghost doing all this, then it had to be a person.

So how did that person get in?
  The door leading down here from the living room wasn't locked, but a flesh and blood person would still have to get inside the house to enter that way.  So if not through there, then how?

Looking down to the far end of the room, Darcy
suddenly knew the answer.

She walked over
to where the six wide steps led up to red entry doors, angled overhead.  "Are these locked?" she asked Belinda.

"Of course, dear
.  They've been locked for years.  I have to keep all of these important things here safe.  My treasures."  She ran a hand along some of the frames.

Darcy stood on the top step, bent over below the doors, examining them closely.  When she put her hands against the one side and pushed, the door swung upward without resistance.

They weren't locked now.

"So you think a living person is doing this?"

Darcy relaxed back on the couch in her
own living room as Jon stretched out in the recliner.  It was after seven o'clock now.  Darcy had made sandwiches for dinner, and she and Jon and her mother had chatted and ate together.  Her mom had only met Jon a few times before.  It gave them a lot to talk about, much to Darcy's embarrassment.

"Yes," she answered his question.  "I don't think this is a ghost anymore.  I think someone is sneaking into Belinda's house, looking for this money she's supposed to have."

"So, a burglar."

"Looks that way."
  Darcy would almost prefer that it was a ghost.  She knew how to deal with ghosts.  Living criminals were Jon's specialty.  "How about the burglaries in Oak Hollow?  Are you any closer to finding the bad guys in your town?"

She grimaced as she said it.  She hadn't meant to call Oak Hollow Jon's town, as if he didn't have a place here with her anymore.  It had just slipped out.

He shrugged, either ignoring her comment or missing it.  "I checked in on the case when I called to find out about Handyman Express.  There's nothing new.  Still no idea who's doing those crimes."

"Looks like they can't get along without you," Darcy said jokingly.

Immediately she wanted to stuff her foot in her mouth to keep herself from talking.  It was like she just couldn't stop saying things that made it sound like she wanted him to leave again, even though nothing could be further from the truth.

He regarded her, then
edged forward on the chair and steepled his hands on his knees.  "We never really finished our discussion from lunch."

"No, we didn't."  She held her breath.  "I remember you said something about wanting to come back, though."

"It's…well, it's complicated."

Her heart sank.  She folded her knees up to her chest defensively and waited for him to tear down the hope she had built up.

"I mean, how I feel about you isn't complicated," he tried to explain.  "I feel like the worst mistake I've made, in a long line of bad mistakes, was leaving you.  I was hurting at the time.  I had just sent my sister to prison.  I didn't know which way was up and it seemed like the best thing I could do was give myself some breathing space."

"Can you breathe again?" she asked, trying not to sound sarcastic.

"You might say that.  Anyway.  I know I should have stayed with you.  That would have helped me a lot more than uprooting myself from you and Misty Hollow and the life I had started to build here."

Darcy
nodded.  She felt like a huge weight was about to drop.  There was a lot more he hadn't said yet.

"The thing of it is," he said, rolling his hands
so that the fingers interlocked, "I can't just quit my job out there.  I wouldn't be able to support myself, let alone you, if I ended up quitting that position without a job to come back to here, or being able to find something else to do."

"Jon, I don't need you to support me.  I own this house.  I have a business that's doing very well.  We're even selling books on the internet now.  Did I tell you that?  There's a couple of people right here in town who have an amazing talent for writing and I've put some of their stories out for sale.  One of them has really taken off. 
You remember Pete Underwood?  Him.  Anyway.  I don't need your money.  And," she added quickly so that she wouldn't lose her nerve, "if you came back to live with me here I could support you."

He smiled, but she could see he wasn't sold on the ide
a of having his girlfriend be his main source of income.  "We'll figure it out," he promised.  "Just, give me some time with it."

She didn't want to give him time.  She wanted him to fix this, right now, so that she would know everything would be all right between them. 
That's what she wanted.  Instead, she did the mature thing and gave him his space.

Sometimes, she really hated being an adult.

"So what did your new police department know about this Handyman Express?" she said, unable to keep herself from being just a little bitter when she mentioned his new department.

"Th
ey confirmed that it's a business over in Oak Hollow," he answered, his eyes studying hers.  "Run by a husband and wife team, Cassidy and Angela Whedon, out of their house.  They didn't know much more than that.  I have the phone number.  I'll call tomorrow and set up an interview with them.  I'll need to go into the police department for a while, anyway."

Darcy swallowed back the hot lump
at the back of her throat.  "I thought you might stay for a few days."

His smile was sweet and frustrating all at the same time.  "You have to work tomorrow anyway, don't you?  I promise I'll come back tomorrow night
.  After I've interviewed the Whedons."

Darcy decided that was the best off
er she was going to get from him.  For now, at least, and perhaps for a long time yet. 

A
black and white shape sauntered out from around the leg of Jon's chair and then jumped up onto his lap.  Smudge the cat rubbed his head against Jon's chest, then curled up into his lap, purring loudly.

It was hard to say who was more surprised, Jon or Darcy.  Ever since they had started dating, Smudge had tolerated Jon being in Darcy's house.  At best, he avoided Jon, or regarded him with that steely indifference that cats managed so well. 

Now, Smudge was cozying up to Jon, as if to say "Hey.  This is where you belong.  Trust the cat."

"He's never done this before," Jon said, echoing Darcy's thoughts.

"Maybe you should take it as a sign you belong here," Darcy said hopefully.

"Yeah," he conceded, "Maybe."  But that was all he said about it.

They sat in silence for a long moment.  Jon stroked Smudge's fur and the cat purred louder, looking at Darcy with lazy, half-closed eyes.  She could read his feline expression like a book.  "He's not so bad," Smudge was saying.  "If you want to keep him, I suppose I'll let you."

She
was going to give Smudge an extra big saucer of milk before bed.  He deserved it.

The Sweet Read bookstore was on Main Street down by the library and the bank and not that far from the Town Hall.  It was a long rectangle of a building with one of its short sides facing the street.  Darcy slowed her bicycle to a rolling stop at the front of the building, where the sign on the door read "OPEN a good book today."  It had been her little joke.  It still made her smile.

The bookstore shouldn't actually be open yet.  Her one and only employee, Isabelle McIntosh, must have gotten to work early.

With a smack of her hand against her forehead, Darcy remembered how she had planned to take inventory with Isabelle this morning.  They'd had this planned for two weeks.  With her mother's wedding coming up and Belinda's troubles and Jon suddenly popping back into her life, she'd forgotten all about it.

Sheepishly, she rushed inside after setting her bicycle in the bike rack that she'd had installed out front more for herself than anyone else.  "Hi, Izzy!" she called to Isabelle.  "Are you here?"

"In the back," she called out
to Darcy.  She was in the office, over past the stacks of books and the newer display of electronic readers and the list of lending library books.

"I'm sorry that I'm late," Darcy said loudly as she stepped over to the front counter
where the cash register sat next to a display of popular books.  Izzy had already started the paperwork for the inventory and laid it out for her.  "I kind of lost track of what day it is."

Izzy popped her head out of the office, a pencil stuck
behind her ear and a short stack of books balanced cover to cover on one hand.  "Not a problem, Darcy.  I got started without you."

She blew back a loose strand of hair that had fallen into her face.  Now that she wasn't in hiding any more, she'd let her
natural blonde color return, and even started wearing it back from her face.  She was a pretty woman, more so when she smiled.  Several of the single men in town had started hanging out in the bookstore just to talk with Izzy.  Darcy didn't mind that her single friend was helping to drum up business.  Because they were doing inventory, Izzy was wearing jeans and a purple t-shirt.  Usually she wore flirty dresses, the kind Darcy always wanted to try.  When it came to matters of fashion, though, Izzy was definitely braver than Darcy.

Behind Izzy, her nine year old daughter Lilly skipped out of t
he office with a big smile.  "Hi, Darcy!" she said with a wave.

"Hi, Lilly.
  Are you going to help us today?"

"Uh-huh.  Mom said it was okay."

"We could use all the help we can get."  Darcy folded up a few pieces of paper that were more personal than business and shoved them into the back pocket of her beige khakis.  "I don't think my Aunt Millie's going to be much help."