Free Murder Down Under (A Darcy Sweet Cozy Mystery Book 17) by K.J. Emrick

pockets and shoulders on the sleeveless button-up top.  Curly black hair framed an angry face.
    “Who’re you?”
    Maybe they should have thought up a plan, Darcy told herself.  Something to say that would explain what they were doing.  Hindsight was a wonderful thing.  Well, without a plausible story to tell, all they were left with was the truth.  It had worked before.
    “My name is Darcy,” she said.  Jon looked at her in surprise.  She ignored him.  “This is my husband, Jon Tinker.  We’re staying at the Pine Lake Inn.  We heard about the poisonings, and we heard that Lindsay died.  We’re so sorry.  Would you mind if we came in and talked to you about it for just a few minutes?”
    Something in what she said must have struck the right tone.  The woman took a short, stuttering breath, and the heat from her gaze softened.  “Nobody’s cared one tiny wit about her death,” she said to Darcy.  “Except her sis.  She came to town right after.  Hardly left my side.  Nobody else in this Godforsaken place showed a lick of concern.  The cops don’t care.  Wrote it off as an accident.  Had the nerve to say Lindsay did it to herself.  Took something she shouldn’t’ve.  A big fat lot of good they are.  Like to drown the whole lot of ‘em in a lake full of crocs.”
    She took another little breath.  Darcy saw her shoulders relax and wondered at the emotion bottled up inside of her.  “Come inside,” she offered.  “My name’s Maureen.”
    The inside of the home was neat and clean.  Everything had a place, from the framed pictures on the shelves to the little plastic trophies on the entertainment center.  The rug on the floor was brown and plush, obviously new.  The walls still had painters tape up around the edges of windows and doors.  The fresh coat of paint was yellow, and after all the white buildings in the town Darcy was really getting to appreciate any splash of color.
    In the living room, three paintings hung on one wall.  Sunflowers, tall and proud in the sun.
    The furniture was still old and threadbare, but comfortable as Maureen had them sit down in one of the two loveseats and she took the other, kicking off her boots to curl her feet underneath her.  “Sorry about that.  I thought maybe you were more of them ratbags from the Lakeshore Times.  Had James Callahan out here three times so far, looking for a quote to run in that rag.  Told him to bugger off each time.  Isn’t getting the message.”
    Darcy understood enough of that to know the local newspaper was hounding Maureen about Lindsay’s death.  “We have a reporter back home who’s pretty much the same way,” she said, thinking of Brianna Watson, always nearby whenever anything was going on.  “We’re not reporters, I promise.  We’re here on our honeymoon.”
    Flinching, Maureen chewed her bottom lip and stared down at her hands.  “Me and Lindsay were hoping to say that.  Someday.  Oz doesn’t recognize same sex marriage, of course, but there are ways round that.”
    Jon nudged Darcy with his elbow.  Lindsay and Maureen weren’t just sharing a house together.  They were lovers.  Serious lovers, if they were thinking about ways to get married while living in a country that legally prohibited it.
    “I’m so, so sorry,” was all Darcy could think to say.  “We didn’t know.”
    That brought out the barest shrug from Maureen.  “Nobody knew.  We had to keep it secret.  Or, least wise, Lindsay felt like we did.  I loved her deeply.  Would have done anything for her.  So, I kept it mum.  Because she asked me to.”
    “Maureen,” Jon asked gently, “I’m a police officer where I come from, back in the United States.  Darcy is a consultant with my department.  We came to talk to you because, well, we don’t think these deaths were accidental.  We think maybe there was more to it.  What do you think?”
    Her head came up.  There were tears in her eyes but a smile ghosted