A House to Die For (A Darby Farr Mystery) (25 page)

Alicia Komolsky smiled. "Okay. But how will you get back?"

"On foot. We islanders do it all the time."

The two women drove back to Near & Farr and fetched Alicia's
minivan. Darby tried not to smile as Alicia bundled school papers,
candy wrappers, pencils, and small sweatshirts and tossed them
hurriedly in the back.

Once on the ferry, the two women ate their sandwiches in silence. Alicia took a drink of her water and turned to face Darby.

"Do you think the police chief will solve Emerson's murder?"

"I think the murder will be solved, yes." She paused. "Would
you mind if I had a look at your brother's things?"

"Of course not."

The two women walked to the back of the van and opened the
hatch where Emerson Phipps' duffel bag sat. "ESP," said Darby.
"His initials stood for Extra Sensory Perception?"

Alicia giggled. "Yes, I used to tease him about that when we were
kids. He, of course, claimed he had ESP because his initials spelled
it out. His middle name was Samuel. My oldest boy is named after
him." She was quiet a moment, then clapped her hands. "Oh! I think I have a photo of Emerson with the boys. I picked up some copies
the other day and I think they are still in the glove compartment.
Would you like to see my sons?"

"Definitely."

While Alicia Komolsky hunted for the photos in the front of
the car, Darby looked at the contents of the duffel bag. The clothes
were clean and folded, with nothing in the pockets. His toiletry bag
held the standard items-toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, razor.
She opened the file folder and checked the documents. There was
the contract, along with a copy of the earnest money check, the
deed, and the property's listing packet.

There was nothing else in the file, and Darby returned it to the
duffel bag. Idly she opened the medical thriller. There was nothing written on the inside cover, and Emerson Phipps' bookmark
was a receipt from a bookstore in Boston. He'd read only the first
chapter.

Darby turned over the receipt and saw a handwritten phone
number. From the first three digits, Darby guessed it was for a Manatuck residence. She pointed it out to Alicia Komolsky.

"I have no idea," the other woman said. "You can use my cell
phone and call it, if you'd like."

"Thanks. I have my own." Darby punched in the numbers and
waited. The phone rang and was answered by a man saying, "Manatuck Agway."

Darby confirmed that it was the Agway store just a few blocks
from the ferry landing and hung up.

"Interesting," she said. "Your brother took the time to look up
the number for the local hardware store. Maybe he was planning
to do some repairs on Fairview."

Alicia Komolsky laughed. "That would be the day! My brother
was fine when it came to fixing people, but he could barely flip off
a light switch inside a house. He didn't lift a finger to do repairs on
his condo in Boston. He had a guy who took care of even the easiest things, and a cleaning lady too, of course." She pulled a 3 by 5
photo out of an envelope. "Here's the picture. This one is Samuel,
and this is Michael. Isn't that a great shot? Look at the way Michael
is grabbing his arm. The boys just adored their Uncle Emerson. He
was like a dad to them." Her eyes filled with tears. "Do you want
one? There are some wallets."

"Sure" Darby accepted a photo and gave Alicia a hug. The
sound of the ferry docking brought both the women back to the
present. Darby zipped up the duffel bag and closed Alicia's minivan hatch.

"Are you going to be okay to drive?"

"I am. I find it helps, actually. Gives me something to do. And I
need to prepare myself to deal with the boys. You know, be strong
for them."

Darby squeezed her bony shoulder. "Take care of yourself.
I'll do my best to find out who did this, and I'll keep you posted,
okay?"

"Thank you. And good luck."

Alicia climbed into the minivan and drove carefully off the
ferry and onto the mainland. Darby watched as she turned toward
the coastal route to drive south, back to Massachusetts. Her heart
ached for Alicia and her sons. Emerson Phipps may have been a
total bastard, she thought, but he had a sister and two nephews who
will miss him terribly.

Once Alicia Komolsky and her minivan were out of sight, Darby
pulled out the photo and studied it carefully. Phipps had been a
handsome man, no doubt about it, and she thought his younger
nephew Michael, with his thick sandy hair and square jaw, looked
like him in miniature. Michael was clutching his uncle's arm,
and Darby thought she glimpsed the pricey timepiece that was
now missing. Perhaps I'll get a better look with magnification, she
thought.

Darby tucked the photo back in her pocket and began walking
the block or so from the ferry terminal to the Manatuck Agway
store. Why had the surgeon scrawled down the number of a hardware store if he was not a handy person? Had it been a place to
rendezvous with Jane Farr, or Mark Trimble?

A gangly teenager in the midst of restocking lightbulbs answered her inquiry about the manager. "He's not in," he said. "But
he'll be back in an hour, 'cause that's when I go on break." Darby
thanked him and pulled out the photo of Emerson Phipps and his
nephews.

"Do you recognize the man in the middle?" The boy looked at
the photo and shook his head.

"Nope. Don't think he's a regular customer, not that I've seen
anyway.

Darby looked around the store for a few minutes, hoping that
the manager would come into work early. Finally, she left her cell
phone number with the teenaged clerk and left the store. She knew
the Manatuck Public Library was only a block away, and she hoped
to get more information on Surgeons Who Serve.

"May I use a computer?" she asked the desk clerk, once inside
the handsome brick building. The librarian pointed to a machine
and within minutes, Darby was logged on.

She typed in Emerson Phipps.

The first entries dealt with Phipps' murder in the small town
of Hurricane Harbor, Maine. Darby glanced over them and found
they contained the usual information, but no useful facts. Her eyes
lit on an entry from Boston Memorial Hospital's website. Knowing
this was the hospital where Emerson Phipps had privileges, Darby
clicked on the link. Someone in the public relations department had
written a flattering article about Dr. Phipps' involvement in Surgeons Who Serve. Darby learned that Phipps had participated in
three missions with the group, all to a remote part of Haiti. A photo
showed the surgeon smiling beside a pretty Haitian girl. Her spine
had been severed, and with the help of SWS and Emerson Phipps,
she was now able to walk. "The good doctor did a miracle," the girl's
mother was quoted as saying.

There were several entries from professional journals, mentioning Phipps' work as a surgeon and his pioneering technologies.
Darby flipped through them quickly, wishing she knew more medical terminology. The rest of the stories were easier to understand.
They dealt with the surgeon's brushes with hospital disciplinary
boards for actions related to tardiness, absence, and misconduct.
Alicia Komolsky was correct: there were angry patients and frustrated administrators who had been unable to rein in her brother.
Darby figured that a few of the articles were the ones Miles had already found and given her; nonetheless she forwarded them all to
her computer at Jane's house.

She checked her watch. If she hurried she would have time to
speak to the Agway manager and make the next ferry back to Hurricane Harbor.

Darby jogged back to the hardware store, grateful that her ankle
was feeling stronger all the time. Once inside, she spotted an employee she guessed was the manager, checking over a clipboard by
the paint department.

To her surprise, he glanced at the photo and recognized Emerson
Phipps almost immediately. "He came in here once," he said. "About
a week ago. Left a few things for me to hold for a customer."

"Is that something you normally do? Hold things for other
people?"

"Oh yeah. I'm like the frigging post office for some of these
people, you know?" He chuckled and pointed to a shelf under the
counter. "I'm in a good location, near the ferry and all, and it makes
it easy for people to drop stuff off. Keys to their house or car, a bill
they want paid, things like that. Been doing it for islanders for years,
and I don't mind at all. Makes them loyal customers, is how I figure
it. 11

Darby couldn't recall her parents ever using the Agway's unusual service, but she recalled Tina's comment about her aunt.

"What did this man leave here?"

"Couple of envelopes. Two, I guess. One was 81/2 by 11, the
other just a normal size envelope. They were numbered one and
two."

"Who were they for?"

"Who needs to know?"

"I do." She gave a sweet smile. "I was working with him, as his
real estate agent. We were getting along so well and then he was murdered." She paused. "I suppose I could ask the police about
this..."

The manager squirmed visibly. "There's no need to get them
involved," he said. "The envelopes were initialed `SP ."

"Soames Pemberton?"

"Guess so. At least, he was the one who opened them up. He
picked up the big envelope on Sunday, and the small one on Monday, just before I closed. Soames had a big smile both times, like
he'd won the lottery or something."

"Maybe he thought he had," murmured Darby, as she left the
store and hurried to the ferry.

Miles Porter called on Darby's cell phone as she sat watching the
water churn behind the ferry. She told him about Emerson Phipps'
drop-offs at the Manatuck store.

"He left envelopes for Soames Pemberton. I bet the large one
was the old deed, which Soames picked up on Sunday. The small
one was undoubtedly a check, which Soames picked up on Monday,
after he'd made his little scene at the planning board meeting."

Miles whistled under his breath. "How in the world did Emerson
Phipps know about Soames? Or the Agway store for that matter?"

"I'm betting Jane Farr," Darby said. "I think she made the suggestion to use Soames to present that old deed. If Soames grew
greedy after one payment, maybe he killed Phipps when he
wouldn't pay more."

"But Phipps was killed before the planning board meeting,
right?"

"True. Maybe Soames contacted Phipps before the meeting and
demanded more money. When Phipps said no, he killed him in a
fit of rage."

"Then why would he have gone through with presenting the
deed? And why frame Lucy Trimble?"

Darby was quiet for a few seconds. "You're right, it just doesn't
fit. Maybe I'm trying too hard to make Soames the murderer. It just
seems like it has to be him, Miles. After all, he knew Lucy had a drug
problem from the stories they'd shared at the counseling group. She
was trying to help him kick his habit, but maybe in doing so, she
gave him all the information he needed to frame her."

Miles nodded, "Soames is a dangerous man. He's got to be
found, and fast."

Darby sighed. "I haven't heard anything more from Chief Dupont. If Lucy is still his prime suspect, he's wasting valuable time
not pursuing Soames. He must have had those chocolates analyzed
by now."

"I'll try to find out. Are you coming back to the island?"

"Right now." She consulted her watch. "I'll be there in five minutes."

"Meet you at the dock and we'll go see the chief together."