Free Laid to Rest (A Darcy Sweet Cozy Mystery Book 18) by K.J. Emrick

something about him.  Something about how Darcy didn’t really understand him.
    Now, here was his family name on this list that Millie had wanted her to see.  The only Fitzwallis family in town these days had been Sean, and his wife, and his children.
    Come to think of it, she’d never known his children.  Someone had told her they moved away but Darcy had never met them.
    “Did you ever meet Mrs. Fitzwallis?” Darcy asked Jon.
    “Hmm?  Well, no.  Before my time.”  He stopped writing, and knelt down next to her in the chair.  “Why?  What are you thinking?”
    She told him about what Millie had said.  “I think we need to go talk with Sean.”
    “Why?  You can’t possibly think he had something to do with any of this.”
    Darcy thought back over the many times she’d seen Sean Fitzwallis at the police department.  He always had a smile for her, always had a kind word.  She’d brought him donuts and other treats any number of times when she’d gone there.  Did she believe he would violate her home, threaten her, kidnap her cat?  No. 
    Not really.
    At the same time, Millie had made sure to mention him specifically.
    “There has to be a reason,” she decided, standing up, making sure to grab the beehive journal with her.  “Come on.  He’s working tonight, right?”
    “He’s almost always at work.  He doesn’t have anything to keep him at home now that—”
    “His wife has passed away and his children have left town?” Darcy finished for him.  “Did you ever met his kids?”
    Jon thought about it, and she could see the unspoken answer in his eyes.  “All right.  Let’s go see him.”  He picked up the notepad he’d been writing on, and scanned the list they’d made.  Neighbors, and friends, every single one.  He shook his head as he tore the page off the pad and folded it into his pocket.  “It’s going to be a long night, isn’t it?”
    “We have to keep working at this,” Darcy said, fisting her hands in front of her.  “I just feel like time is running out.  For Smudge.  We’ve only got until midnight, Jon, and here we are running all around town chasing our tails.  What if we can’t find him before…before the deadline?”
    She hated that word.  She hated any word that started with ‘dead.’
    Gently, he took the book from her fist.  “Then we put that journal of your aunt’s on the shelf in the library like we were told to do.  We catch the guy, and we make sure he gets sent away to prison for a long time.  I just wish I knew what made this book so important.  For now, let’s make photocopies while we’re here in the store.  Then we’ll go down to the station and talk to Fitzwallis.  Let’s hope he’s got something important to say.”
    Darcy turned away from him when he tried to put his arms around her, and walked out of the office instead.
    In the main area of the bookstore, with its shelves and display racks and reading tables, she stopped.  They weren’t alone.
    Helen Nelson stood just inside the front door, a surprised look on her face, eyes wide, mouth open, like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. 
    She’d changed out of the clothes Darcy had seen her in at the café earlier.  Now she had on a pair of old khaki pants and a green top with white embroidery around the shoulders.  Her hair was out of its pony tail and fell loosely around her shoulders in curly waves.  She looked less like the town’s mayor, or one of its leading businessmen even, and more like someone just out for a stroll.
    After dark.  Into a store she knew was closed.
    “Hi Helen,” Jon greeted her.  “I figured you’d be home at this hour.”
    “Well, I was,” she admitted, “but then—”
    “Why are you here?” Darcy interrupted, her voice holding an edge to it.
    Helen blinked at her.  “I saw the light on.  I wanted to make sure you were all right.  That terrible business with Smudge.  Oh, Darcy.  Everyone loves your cat.  I