Resorting to Murder (A Darcy Sweet Mystery Book 11) (3 page)

She hung back a little as Jon knocked on the door, and they waited a few seconds before they heard "Who is it?" from inside. 
JoEllen's voice.

"It's Jon and Darcy," Jon told her. 
"From the cabin next door."

Darcy didn't know if anyone else would pick up on how Jon had his body bladed to the doorway, one foot just a step or two back further than the other, ready to run, or ready to fight.  It was his police instincts taking over, sensing danger and reacting to it.

It was oddly attractive, and Darcy was still staring at him when he door opened.

JoEl
len leaned out, looking first at Jon and then Darcy, keeping the door mostly closed as she did.  Her hair was mussed, and her eyes were still a little red like she'd just gotten out of bed. Or been crying?  After a moment's hesitation, she smiled.  "Hey, guys.  Good morning.  What's up?"

"We just wanted to say hi and
see if maybe we could meet for lunch before our hike today," Jon said smoothly.  His body language didn't change and Darcy took it as a cue to keep her distance.

"Oh, you bet,"
JoEllen said.  "Um.  Can I meet you in town, maybe?  There's this place called BoBo's.  Right on Main Street.  I know, dumb name, but it really has good food.  Meet you there around noon?"

Jon
nodded, his own smile overly friendly.  "That sounds perfect.  We're headed into town now, actually.  We'll meet you there."

"Great.  See you then!"  JoEllen waved with her fingers and then
retreated behind the door before closing it again.

"Lunch?"
Darcy asked, letting Jon take her by the hand and lead her toward the parking lot on the other side of the main building.  "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Yes.  We need an excuse to talk with her and ask
her questions, right?  Lunch is the perfect excuse.  Besides…"  He looked around them, making sure no one was walking on the gravel paths near them or hanging out on the porch leading up to the coffee house entrance.  There wasn't, but he lowered his voice anyway.  "There's a lot more going on here than we thought."

"You mean, more than a dead man buried in the woods?"

"Yes," was the quick reply.  "More than that.  JoEllen had a gun in her hand just now."

Darcy's eyes widened.  She kept walking, not wanting JoEllen to come out of her cabin at any point and see her expression and maybe guess what they were talking about. 
"A gun?  Are you sure?  Did you see it?"

"I didn't see it," he admitted.  "But I know what it looks like when someone is trying to conceal a gun behind their back.  She had one with her.  That's why she wouldn't open up the door for us, and why she didn't come out to talk to us."

Darcy trusted Jon's knowledge of these things.  He was a great police officer, and his instincts had saved both of their lives more than once. 

JoEllen
had a gun.  Had she killed the man in Darcy's vision?

***

Breakfast was an amazing omelet with green peppers and ham.  Darcy sat with Jon in an open
air café decorated with the same kind of carved bear statues that were everywhere in town.  Their round white table had a rainbow colored umbrella on a pole that hung over their heads.  It was a nice, shady spot with cool breezes flowing down the street.  Around them the town moved at its own slow pace.  A few cars drove by with windows down and people's arms hanging out.  Dogs trotted down the sidewalks or across lawns.  People ambled by, apparently in no hurry to be anywhere.

She saw a cat
stalking through an alleyway and it made her think of Smudge.  She'd been leaving her big black and white tomcat alone a lot recently.  She'd have to give him some extra love and attention when they got back home.

When Darcy realized that the peaceful setting of Bear Ridge had made her forget all about J
oEllen Meyers and her connection to a dead man she sat up a little straighter in her chair.  It surprised her, because the vision had made such a strong impression.  She'd thought at first that she would never be able to get it out of her mind.  Yet here she was, in this picturesque town with its little, neat houses and its quaint shops, enjoying the fresh air and the view and the company of Jon Tinker. 

Which was exactly what she had wanted for this weekend.
  She relaxed back into her breakfast, sharing a smile with Jon.  The mystery they had fallen into could wait for a little while longer.  She hoped.

Over cups of coffee they talked about what they wanted to do this morning.  There was a store just up the street that sold fishing supplies, and Jon wanted to poke around in there. 
His father had taken him fishing a few times, he explained, back when he'd been only about five or six.  Those were some of the best memories he had of his dad. 

Darcy
listened with interest to this little snippet of his childhood that they'd never talked about before.  It was nice to know they could share those things together.

For her part, she wanted to look
into that bookstore here in town.  It was up the street the other way, so they made plans to split up for an hour or two and meet back here.  Darcy felt a little disappointed that they wouldn't be spending the whole morning together but it was just for a little while.  An hour or two at most. 

What could possibly go wrong?

When that thought crossed her mind, she bit her lower lip, hard.  When would she ever learn not to invite trouble?

The
y held each other close for a moment and kissed tenderly, then went in separate directions up the neatly trimmed sidewalk.  Their fingertips were the last things to touch as their hands slipped apart.

Darcy still had a smile on her face when she walked into the
Golden Bear Bookshop.  She had missed being with Jon so much.  When he came back into her life just last month she had spent days walking around on pins and needles, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  For something to go wrong that would make him leave again.  She was only now settling into a belief that he was here.  To stay.

It was a good feeling.

The Golden Bear Bookstore was small, with a wooden floor that creaked, but every available space was crammed with books.  The cream colored walls were lined with shelves stacked with paperback novels and bigger hardcover volumes.  Freestanding stacks made of plywood held even more.  Around the room hand painted signs declared the different genres.  Fantasy.  Mystery.  Travel.  Young Adult.  Cooking.  Local Humor.

She looked over the mystery section quickly then turned away
to look for something else.  She had enough mystery in her life.  Although maybe Agatha Christie or Stephanie Plum would be able to give her some pointers.

The local humor selection caught her attention.  One book in
particular was set to the front on a little wire holder so that the front faced Darcy.  A man laughed in the cover photo from behind a bushy brown beard.  A floppy camouflaged hat with a brim that hung down past the man's wide shoulders sported a round, white button that read "I love bears."  The "love" was spelled with a red heart.

"A View
From the Mountain" read the title of the book under the laughing man.  In smaller typeset below that were the words "Tales from Bear Ridge."  Darcy figured the man on the cover was a resident of the town here, publishing a book of local, colorful stories.  Picking it up to leaf through it she was immediately caught up in a story of a fish as big and mean as a bear with a thorn in its paw, and the man who wrestled it into his rowboat only to capsize halfway back to shore.  The man made had to make a deal with the fish to save his life, riding back to shore on its back.

She caught herself laughing out loud at the story, and the writing style, and
the simple way the author drew the reader in.

"Like that book?" a man's cheerful voice asked.

Darcy turned, holding her page with her finger, to find the man on the book's cover watching her expectantly, waiting for an answer to his question.  His wide smile grinned from behind the same bushy brown beard.  Without the hat from his picture his round head peeked through thinning hair.  He was a mountain of a man, tall and wide, with a presence that made him seem even bigger than he really was. 

"Hey, this is you," Darcy said, holding up the book.

"Yup, that's me," he agreed, holding out a massive hand.  Darcy's disappeared into his as they shook.  "Carson Middlemiss.  Pleased to meet you."

"Uh, hi.
  I'm Darcy Sweet.  You wrote this?"

Carson nodded with some pride.  "I did.  There's so much that goes on
behind the scenes in a small town like this.  People just don't know the things that folk 'round here have seen.  And done!  Figured somebody might like to read about the funnier side of life up here in the mountains."

It was hard not to smile
at the way he said it.  Darcy took her hand back, still feeling the pressure of Carson's hand.  "Well, it's nice to meet the actual author.  I run a bookstore back where I live.  If the rest of the book is as good as what I just skimmed through, maybe we could work out something and offer it for sale in my store, too?"

"Wonderful!" Carson
roared.  "The publishing company did a limited run in our area just to see how it would do, but I've got two boxes out back full of them.  Only sold about thirty or so.  Mostly to folks hereabouts."

"Oh, this is your store?" Darcy asked him.  It hadn't occurred to her that
Carson would be the owner too.

"Sure is. 
My pride and joy.  Until the mayor raises taxes again and I can't afford to keep the place, anyway.  Tell you what," Carson said, raising a finger like an idea had just occurred to him.  "Why don't you give me your e-mail and your store information now, and when you leave town you can come and pick up one of them boxes to take with you.  Sound fair?"

There was a simple
kind of innocence in the way Carson said it but Darcy could see the calculation in his eyes.  If he took down her information now, that would give him a chance to check out her store and see if she was on the level before he gave any of his books to her.  Carson was a lot smarter than he looked.

"T
hat sounds good to me," she agreed.

From the back pocket of his jeans he pulled a spiral bound notebook and a pen
to quickly jot out his contact information, his e-mail and phone number and the address of the store.  He handed it to Darcy.

"Thank you.
" She folded the paper and tucked it into the pocket of her shorts.  "My store is the Sweet Read Bookstore in Misty Hollow.  We've got a website you can look up.  My e-mail is darcy at sweetreadbookstore, all lowercase, all one word, dot com."

Carson wrote it all down as she said it
and underlined the e-mail with a flourish.  "Awful glad you came into my store today, Miss Sweet."

"Darcy," she corrected with a small laugh.  "Call me Darcy.  Mind if I look around some more?  You've got some very interesting books here."

"Please do.  I'll be back there with the register if you want to buy anything.  Enjoying our town?"

"Very much," Darcy told him honestly.  "My boyfriend and I are going hiking later with someone we met up at the Lonely Cub Resort.  I'm hoping to get some nice photographs of the views and maybe find some interesting rocks to bring home…"

She trailed off.  Carson's expression had darkened until he was nearly scowling now.  "Carson?  Is something wrong?"

With a shake of his broad shoulders, he seemed to come to himself and his smile returned.  "Oh.  No, everything's fine.  Hiking, you say?  Whereabouts were thinking of going?"

"Well, I'm not really sure.  We've never been up here before.  The woman we met at the cabins suggested it.  She's been here before, apparently.  Why?"

"Oh, nothing.
  Just some of those trails up there are dangerous.  Private property up there, too.  If you don't know where you're going you just might end up somewhere you shouldn't."

She wasn't sure what he was getting at.  "Well, I guess we'll have to trust our guide
.  I'm sure it will be fine."

He nodded his head, making his beard bob, his eyes narrowed.  "I see.  I see.  Well, you might want to stay away from the ski trails.  I know a lot of tourists use 'em for hiking trails, but it just isn't safe up there.  Not for young ladies such as yourself."

The words were ominous and spoken with a sincerity that made Darcy's skin crawl.  Instead of making her afraid, though, they just piqued her curiosity.  "Why?  What's so dangerous up there?"

Carson didn't answer at first.  He worked the inside of his cheeks like he was trying to decide whether to let the words out.  "People," he finally said, "should learn to stay out of the deep woods. 
Got a few stories in my book about that, too.  Lots of hikers go missing up there every year.  Had one disappear not too long ago, for that matter.  Few weeks back.  Went up, didn't come back.  Sheriff's been looking for him ever since."

He pointed
to a corkboard over near the wall, set up on an easel tripod because the wall space was all being used for books.  On it were notices for garage sales and food drives.  In the middle of it all was a larger one with the word MISSING printed in bold type across the top over the face of a smiling man with dark hair and narrow eyes.