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

Smart man.  She never would have thought to ask that.
    “Well, let me think.”  Helen crossed her arms and bent her head, chewing on the inside of her cheek.  After a moment, she shrugged.  “I mean, she put your name on the deed to her house.  This shop, too.  I always thought that was a little odd.  Afterwards, I mean.  It was like she knew what was coming.”
    Darcy could only stare.  She’d just assumed Millie had always intended the house and shop to come to her.  In the future.  Many years from now, after Millie had lived to be about a hundred and fifteen.  Now all the pieces seemed to point to Millie’s death being something more than the peaceful tragedy she had been told it was.
    Thinking about it that way, hearing that Millie seemed to know her death was coming…it was just creepy.
    In the back of the bookstore, several books fell off their shelf to the floor.  Thud.  Thud.  Thud.  Thud.
    Helen jumped.  Darcy knew what it was.  Or rather, who it was.  Millie had finally decided to show up, and she wasn’t happy that this secret had come to light.  Darcy was two steps away from screaming at her aunt’s spirit that this was something she needed to know.  No more secrets!
    “Well, I should go…” Helen said, clasping her hands together to keep them from shaking.  Some people weren’t as comfortable around ghosts as Darcy and Jon were.
    “Was there anything else?” Jon asked before Helen could bolt out the door.  “Anything else from that time that struck you as odd?”
    “Why?” Helen wanted to know.  “What’s all this got to do with Millie?”
    “That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” he answered, evasively.  “Was there anything you can remember?”
    Helen went through her memories while her eyes kept darting to the back of the store.  “Um.  Well.  There was one time that she saw a man in my deli.  She asked me if I knew who it was but when I looked, there was no one there.  I just assumed it was one of her, um, visions.  I guess that’s what you call it.  But she insisted there was someone following her.  I asked her if she wanted me to call Joe Daleson, but she told me no.  She said she knew who it was and she could take care of it.”
    Now Darcy did turn around to glare at the back of the store.  “Handle it, Aunt Millie?  Really?”
    Another book fell, but that was the only answer.
    “Darcy, um, I’m going to go home.”  Helen’s voice was less than steady.  It was easy to tell she had no interest in being here if her dead friend was about to make an appearance.  “Please, call me if there’s anything I can do.”
    With an uncertain glance at the back corner of the store, Helen backed her way out of the door and went walking quickly down the street.
    “I swear to you, Jon,” Darcy snapped, throwing her hands in the air, the beehive journal still tight in her grip.  “My aunt must have been the most stubborn, bull-headed woman I’ve ever known!”
    “Runs in the family,” Jon muttered, watching her.
    “You are not funny,” she told him, punctuating her words with a finger against his chest.  “None of this had to happen.  Millie could have come to me.  She could have gone to the police.  But, no!  She had to ‘handle it’ by herself!”
    “Maybe she couldn’t go to the police,” Jon offered.  “Besides, Darcy, we don’t know what happened, or if anything at all happened.  Remember?  As far as we know Millie’s death was just that.  An old woman passing away in her sleep.”
    “Sure,” she griped.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
    “Then let’s go talk to Sean.”  He took her hands, and held them tightly, even though she tried to stay mad at him.  “We need answers.  We won’t find them here listening to books falling off shelves.”
    The next book falling to the floor was so loud that Darcy had no doubt it had been thrown with all the force her aunt’s ghost could