The Language of Death (A Darcy Sweet Coy Mystery) (3 page)

"Hi Darcy," he said
, standing up.  "It's been a long time."

Familiar.
  He looked familiar.  Darcy stretched her memory.  Yes.  She sort of remembered him.  From college.  Oh, for Pete's sake!

"Lorne?"
  Of course it was him.  Lorne Sommers.  They had been friends back in college, hung out a few times together with Chloe.  More than a few times, as she recalled now.  She hadn't thought of him in years.  He'd been more Chloe's friend, but there had been a few nights out when Darcy and Chloe had both eyed him as potential boyfriend material.  It had never happened, though, and looking at him now she had to wonder why she'd never followed through.

Or maybe, she thought, she was just remembering her time at college with Chloe in a rosy light
now that she was gone.  Either way, it didn't matter.  They were here now.

"How have you been?" Lorne asked her
, stepping over to hug her quickly.

"I'm good," she said, feeling awkward.  "Wow.  It has been a while, hasn't it?"

"Since college.  Chloe and I…we, uh, kept in touch.  I live nearby.  I'm guessing you and she kept in contact too?"

"Yes," Darcy
said.  "I just wish I'd been able to see her more often.  I live hours away from here."

The man on the couch cleared his throat,
then stood up as well.  "Lorne, bro, you going to introduce me?"

Darcy immediately didn't like this man.  She couldn't say why.  Maybe it was the way he looked at her l
ike he wanted to wrap a bow around her.  Maybe it was just his smug attitude.  Lorne looked apologetically at her, then waved a hand between them.  "Darcy Sweet, this is my brother Danson.  Danson, Darcy Sweet."

"Hi."  Darcy offered her hand for
Danson to shake.  "Were you a friend of Chloe's too?"

"No," he said simply, like he didn't have to explain.  When the silence stretched, he looked over at the other couch.  "I'm
Veronica's fiancé.  I figured I should be here.  Moral support, you know?"

"Sure," Darcy said, even though she didn't like the way he said it.

"Well," Betsy said, patting her husband's shoulder and wiping at her eyes.  "I suppose I should offer some refreshments.  Then maybe we can sit.  I'm sure you younger folks have a lot to catch up on."

She turned, her husband trying unsuccessfully to get her to sit down and let him take care of things.  Betsy told him he was a dear, and then went off into her kitchen where she took out boxes of crackers and plastic serving trays.

Darcy took a seat in one of the chairs, not feeling comfortable enough to sit on either of the side couches with the others.  She was glad for Lorne.  It at least gave her someone to talk to.  She had meant to go straight to her hotel and get ready for the service tomorrow, but she had felt like she needed to come here first.  She needed to see Chloe's mom and tell her how sorry she was, but more than that, she needed to start looking into why Chloe's ghost had asked her for help.  She needed to quietly look into Chloe's death.

Darcy hadn't asked Betsy about it on the phone.  It didn't seem the time to ask such questions.  Now that she was here, she wasn't finding it any easier. 
She was working up the courage to ask Chloe's dad about her death when a chill climbed her spine and made goosebumps pop up on her arms.  She knew what that meant.  It had nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

It had everything to do with her special ability.

Across the living room, between the two couches, Darcy saw a figure appear.  Someone Darcy's age, who would never be any older than that.  Someone with golden brown hair that she liked to wear in a braid.  Someone who had her mother's eyes.

Chloe's ghost had materialized in the room.  She stared directly at Darcy, making her stop midsentence in something she had been saying to Lorne.  Her friend's spirit wore blue jeans and a wide belt similar to Darcy's, a
fashion they had both perfected in college.  Her top was simple and gray with sleeves that were too long.  That was definitely something Chloe would wear.  Darcy's breath caught in her throat.

"Darcy?" Lorne asked.  Everyone stopped to stare at her.  "Darcy, what is it?"

She couldn't help it.  Here was her friend, as vivid to her as she had been in life.  Ghosts didn't really wear clothing, just the appearance of what they remembered wearing in life, but it was like Chloe had just stepped out of her dorm room ready to go to class.  Except for the pinkish froth spilling out over her lips.  That wasn't normal.

Darcy felt the color drain from her face.  This was how Chloe had died.  This was
how she was remembering herself.  The manner of her death had been so frightening and traumatic that it had carried over into the afterlife with her.  That happened sometimes.  Usually in one particular kind of death.

Suicide.

Chloe suddenly tipped back her head and her mouth opened in a silent scream, a scream with no sound, no voice, muted by the divide between the world of the living and the world of the dead.  Bloody spittle dripped from around her mouth and down both cheeks.  Then she dropped to her knees there on the living room floor, and one ghostly hand made a sweeping, arcing gesture as dark eyes stared.

Darcy couldn't stand it.  She jumped up from her chair with a mu
mbled apology and ran out of the house.  Out on the front lawn, she stopped, shaking, physically sickened by what she had just seen.  It was one thing when some random ghost appeared just to say hi to Darcy or to demand her help.  It was another entirely when that ghost belonged to someone she loved and cared about.  Especially when the memory of Chloe's death was strong enough to be right there in front of her in living color.

She twisted at her ring, wishing she knew what to do. 
Suicide?  Chloe had killed herself?  Was it possible?  Was that why she had come looking for Darcy's help?  The spirits of those who killed themselves were in constant turmoil until they could resolve their issues from life.  Some of them never did, in Darcy's experience.  Darcy would be able to help Chloe some, with her talents, but the truth was there was nothing to do for suicides except help them understand the error of what they had done.  If Chloe thought Darcy could do more for her than that, then she didn't know if she could stand being here a minute longer…

"Darcy?" a voice from behind her said.

Lorne.  Darcy looked over her shoulder to see him coming out of the house after her.  "Darcy, what's wrong?  You look like you've seen a ghost."

Wow.  If she had a nickel for every time someone had said that to her.

"I'm fine," she lied.  "I just, I mean, I just needed some air.  It all kind of rushed in at me at once.  I couldn't take it."

He stuck his hands in the pockets of his slacks and watched the lazy traffic going up Wheeler Avenue.  "I know what you mean.  I can understand why it was hard for you.  The two
of you were always so close in school.  It's a little harder on me, too, since Chloe and I were…well."

Darcy looked intently at him, her mouth hanging open. 
This was the mysterious man that Chloe had told her about!  "You and Chloe were dating?"

He nodded, but coupled it with a shrug. 
"Engaged, actually."  He took a deep, shaky breath.  "We hadn't told anyone yet.  She had talked about calling you and asking you to be the Maid of Honor.  It would have meant a lot to her for you to be there.  I know it would mean a lot for her to know you're here, now."

Chloe
had been getting married.  Darcy fit that into the mental picture that was starting to form.  Chloe had never been a girl prone to depression.  In fact, there had been any number of times that Chloe had helped Darcy through a funk.  Now, in her home town, with a man she was about to marry, with everything she had ever told Darcy that she wanted out of life, she had killed herself.

"I don't get it," Lorne said as if he had been reading Darcy's thoughts.  "Why would she do that?  Why would she do that to herself?"

Darcy's heart went out to him.  She went to him and put her arms around him and let him cry on her shoulder. 

She had to agree with him. 
It didn't make sense.

Darcy held Lorne for a long while like that.  It kind of reminded her of how she and Jon used to comfort each other when things got rough.  It felt nice, to know there was someone else who cared about Chloe so much.  Someone she could share her own sad feelings with.

Someone she could talk to about Chloe's death.

"Lorne," she said after a while.  "I understand that Chloe, um, killed herself. 
Are the police looking into it?"

He shook his head bitterly.  "No. 
As far as they're concerned, it's case closed.  She was found in her room, in her bed, with a pill bottle next to her.  Epilepsy medication.  Strong stuff, especially when mixed with alcohol.  Enough to stop a beating heart.  No one knows where she got it from but do they care?  No.  How did they put it…no signs of foul play."

Darcy had hoped to get some help from the local police, but apparently that was out the window, if they'd already made up their minds that it was a suicide.  "How did this
happen?" she asked.  "Did someone see her do it?"

He swallowed a couple of times before pushing gently out of her arms.  He looked like he wanted nothing more than to
continue being held by Darcy, but he pulled the cuffs of his suit coat back into place and straightened his tie and tried to make it look like he was back in control of himself instead.  "No one was with her when she did it.  I've asked all these questions already, Darcy.  I know the whole story forward and backward now.  If you need to know anything, just ask.  It didn't exactly make me feel better knowing any of it, but I'm told it helps for some people."

"Who found her?" Darcy asked.  He looked mildly surprised that she had asked that question first.

"Veronica, actually.  My brother's bride-to-be.  She and Chloe were supposed to go out that night."  He huffed out a breath.  "That night.  Well, it was only this past Friday night, actually.  Three days ago.  Four?  I can't even think straight.  I can't believe it's only been that long since she's been gone."

His voice trailed off and his eyes lost focus.  Darcy didn't press him.  She let him come back to the story in his own time.

"Anyway," he said, wiping at his eyes to clear them.  "She and Veronica were close.  Maybe not as close as you and Chloe had been in college, but Veronica was the best friend Chloe had here.  Other than me, I suppose.  Those two went out almost every Friday night.  There was a local place they liked to go to.  The Hoot Owl.  I didn't usually go.  It was a girl's night thing.  You know, like you and Chloe used to do to ditch me."

He actually managed a smile when he said that, and Darcy couldn't help but smile back a
t the memory.  She recalled now how Lorne would be tagging along behind one or the other of them and Chloe would whisper they should do a girl's night, just to see if he would follow them.  It would mean he was serious, Chloe would say.  Darcy remembered feeling disappointed when Lorne, ever the gentleman, gave them their space instead of insisting on going, too.

How had Lorne and Chloe ended up engaged?  They must have stayed close after college, something Darcy hadn't managed to do.  A wave of sadness swept over her again at the lost opportunities life sometimes dealt you.

Now Chloe was dead.  Veronica had been the first one to find her.  Maybe Darcy should start by talking to her.

She checked her watch.  "Lorne, I really should check into my hotel.  I want to go back inside and say goodbye to everyone, though."

"Oh," he said.  "Uh.  Sure.  Sure, I understand.  But, uh, would you maybe want to get together later for a drink?  I mean, to talk about Chloe.  I sure would like to remember the good times with someone."

Darcy felt like she needed that, too.  "I'd like that. 
How about dinner?  Give me your cell phone number and I'll call you from my hotel."

"Okay."  He rattled off the number, with the area code.  "What's yours?"

"I don't have a cell phone."

"Really?
  Wow.  How do you manage without one?"

Because ghosts always get my number no matter how often I change it, she thought to herself.  "It's a long story.  I'll call you around seven, all right?"

"Thanks, Darcy.  I really needed a friend right now."

Back inside the house Darcy found Betsy Marrin
in the kitchen again, scrubbing dishes that looked like they were already polished to a shine.  She hugged Darcy again and thanked her for coming.  She promised to talk with her more tomorrow at the services.

Darcy went into the living room and said her goodbyes, to Chloe's dad, and to
Danson and Lorne, and Sami, and then to Veronica.  She got a mixture of indifferent stares and waves.  Lorne hugged her again.  Betsy offered her a bag of cookies to take with her.  "I've been baking to keep occupied," she admitted.  "I have more cookies and cupcakes now than I'll ever know what to do with."

Thanking Betsy for the heavy paper sack, she smiled at Veronica.  "Would you walk me out?"