Free The Language of Death (A Darcy Sweet Coy Mystery) by K.J. Emrick Page B

glove compartment.  He's fanatical about it."
    Darcy still couldn't believe how different the two brothers were.  Lorne, open and caring and easy to talk to.  Danson, uptight and about as approachable as a glacier.  She'd never met Danson before but it was a safe bet that Chloe had.  Of the two brothers it was easy to see why she would have fallen for Lorne, and not Danson.  They were polar opposites, these two.  Yin and Yang.  Hot and cold.  Up and down.
    She gasped.  The world around her froze.  Everything stopped as bits and pieces clicked into place.  Chloe had given her the answer, then told her she was smart enough to figure it out.
    Smarter than a teddy bear.
    On her next heartbeat the world started up again.  She looked up to find Lorne staring.  "Are you all right?" he asked her.
    "No," she said, actually feeling like she'd been punched in the gut.  "I'm not.  Um, Lorne, can I ask you to go inside for a while?  If anyone starts to leave, maybe you could come out and give me a signal?"
    "A signal?  What do you want me to do, make bird calls?"
    "Whatever.  I'm sure you can figure out a way to be more subtle.  Please?  It would really be a help."
    She hoped he wouldn't ask any questions and to her relief, he didn't.  He thought she was asking him to help her find a clue to who had killed Chloe, and for that he probably would have done anything she asked.  She couldn't tell him that the real reason she wanted him to go back inside was because she couldn't trust him.  Not with what she was about to do.  Not after what she had just figured out.
    After she saw the door to the house close behind Lorne she checked to make sure the two people having their cigarettes over at the other edge of the lawn weren't paying any attention to her.  Then she went down to the row of cars parked in front of the Marrin home.
    She knew which car was Danson's from seeing him drive the red two-door coupe to and from the cemetery today.  The polish on the automobile was glaring under the mid-afternoon sun.  Even the chrome wheels had been buffed to a shine.  Pursing her lips at how silly men could be with their toys, Darcy checked over her shoulder one last time then reached for the passenger door handle.
    Locked.
    She cursed silently.  So close.  All she had to do was get inside this car and she'd know if she was right or not.  She could break the window with a rock, maybe, but that would draw too much attention.  Not to mention get her arrested.  Maybe there was a metal coat hanger in Betsy's house that she could…
    Chloe's ghost popped into existence at Darcy's side, so suddenly that Darcy jumped and squeaked.  "Chloe!" she said in a loud whisper.  "Don't do that!  You'll give me a heart attack and then I'll be standing there with you on the other side.  How could I help you then, huh?"
    Chloe stuck out her tongue at Darcy, then knelt down beside the back tire.  Her hand and arm disappeared through the frame as she reached for something she would never be able to touch.
    What could she be after, Darcy wondered.  Then it hit her.  Of course.
    Kneeling down in almost the exact spot where Chloe had been, she reached up under the frame around the back bumper.  She had to reach way up, and over, and with a little fumbling she came out with a little metal box hidden so well she doubted even Danson's mechanic knew it was there.  It was a hide-a-key box, used by people who didn't want to risk getting locked out of their cars.  Sliding the top open she took out the spare key.
    "Thanks," she told Chloe.  "Wish your other answers had been that direct."
    Chloe stood by and watched her as she opened Danson's car, then quickly got inside and shut the door behind her.  It was less likely that anyone would notice her this way.  Then, in relative privacy, she opened the small glove compartment.
    She knew the moment Chloe settled into the backseat by the chill that ran up her spine.  "It's not here, is it?" Darcy