A House to Die For (A Darby Farr Mystery) (28 page)

Darby figured the chief would not be putting in late hours at
the station, and her assumption was correct. His police car was
parked in the driveway of a new modular home set back from the
road. Darby watched as he opened the front door, a puzzled look
on his face.

"Miss California and Tina." His joviality was forced. "What can
I do for you ladies?"

Darby slammed the truck door and walked toward the big
man. "Hello, Chief. Can we talk? I have some information on the
Emerson Phipps murder case."

"Is that so? Well, come on in then" He opened the door of his
house and ushered Darby inside. "What about Tina? She coming
in?"

"I don't think so."

A large golden retriever rose with difficulty from a dog bed by
the foyer. She wagged her tail hopefully and walked stiffly toward
Darby.

"This is Aggie," he said, bending to pet the old dog. "She's a
trooper. Aren't you, Aggie? You're a good old girl." He straightened
and said, "She's fifteen. Would you believe it? Fifteen."

He walked toward a small bar area and poured himself a drink.
"I'm going to fix myself a whiskey. Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you."

He continued to linger at the bar while Darby looked around
the small house. It was new, with wall-to-wall carpeting that had
yet to show signs of Aggie damage. The walls were white and unadorned, the furniture brand new, but sparse.

"Good old Aggie," he said, bending to scratch the old dog's
head. "She saw my kids graduate from high school, my mom pass
on, and my wife high tail it off to Vegas. Fifteen years is a long
time, eh Darby?" He pointed to the couch. "Please, sit down." He
lowered himself into an easy chair and took a long drink of the
whiskey. "Are you here to talk about what I told you today? I didn't
mean to upset you."

Darby shook her head. She didn't want to discuss her parents
with Chief Dupont. She leaned in closer and cleared her throat.
"I'm here to talk about the murder of Emerson Phipps. Lucy
Trimble is innocent. Soames Pemberton is the man you should be
looking for."

"Soames? Why in the world would he want to kill some fancy
doctor he didn't even know? Soames has had some hard times since
coming back from the Gulf, but he's not a homicidal maniac."

"Emerson Phipps paid him to present the old deed at the planning board meeting so he would have a chance to buy Fairview.
Soames demanded more money to keep quiet about it and Phipps
told him no. I think that Soames decided to kill him and frame
Lucy for the murder. He knew she had some weaknesses in her
past, and he used those in his favor."

Chief Dupont took a long, thoughtful drink of his whiskey.
"Hmmm...lots of conjecture. Tell me, you know about thispartnership-between Phipps and Soames how exactly?"

"There was a telephone number in Emerson Phipps' personal
effects. I called it, and it was the Agway store on Manatuck. I spoke
to the manager there and discovered that Phipps was leaving envelopes for Soames Pemberton at the store."

"And how do you make the jump that Soames framed Lucy?"

Darby knew the chief was not going to be happy about her breaking and entering into Soames' cabin, but she had to tell him about
the file. As she suspected, his face hardened into an unreadable mask
as she described entering and finding the doctor's notations.

"That cabin is private property," he said coldly. "You had no
right to go snooping around there."

"I know," she said quickly. "I didn't disturb anything."

"Well, you looked at this file, didn't you?" He gave an exasperated sigh. "What did it say that's so important Soames could frame
Lucy?"

"Dr. Hotchkiss described an incident that happened when Lucy
was sixteen. She was sexually assaulted by Emerson Phipps."

The chief whistled. "Sounds like that gives her a reason to want
the man dead, doesn't it?"

"But don't you see it also gives someone a prime reason to
frame her? Lucy hated Emerson Phipps for what he did to her, but
I know she didn't kill him." She looked Chief Dupont squarely in
the eye. "You know Lucy Trimble. You know she's not a murderer."

"Don't be too sure about that. Her motive for hating Emerson
Phipps is stronger than ever. This man assaulted her and decides
to buy her house? Come on, Darby. Use your judgment. Her painting jumpsuit was found at the scene. Did you forget that it was
covered in the victim's blood? And like it or not, your friend Lucy
Trimble is an addict. And once an addict, always an addict."

"Lucy is a scapegoat, a convenient person to pin this whole
thing on."

"I didn't decide to pin a murder on anyone, young lady. I work
with evidence. Material you'd do well to leave alone or you'll get
yourself in trouble!"

He was panting, his face an angry shade of red. Darby willed herself to calm down. My emotions won't help Lucy, she told herself.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper. Please tell me you'll investigate Soames Pemberton's cabin. Please, Chief Dupont."

"I'll go out there in the morning," he said, sounding mollified.
"You said it was by the landfill, right?"

Darby nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Why is he waiting
until the morning to investigate this lead? Just to show me he can, she
thought. Backing toward the door of the chief's house, she nodded
curtly and saw herself out the door.

Tina waited until she'd pulled out of Chief Dupont's driveway before asking Darby what happened. When Darby told her, she was
frank in her assessment of his abilities.

"That asshole!" she spat. "He has never liked the Trimbles-
or anyone with waterfront property for that matter-but I can't
believe he'd let his stupid prejudices affect an investigation. Poor
Lucy! What do we do now?"

"I'm not sure." Darby's energy was flagging, she was hungry,
and the encounter with the chief had sapped her determination.

Tina thought a moment, and then snapped her fingers. "What
we need to do is confront Soames. Get him to confess, the way
they do on television." She thought again. "Hey! There's a guy who's
a regular at that grungy bar in downtown Manatuck, over by the Army-Navy store. The Dip Net. He might know where Soames is
hiding."

Tina's enthusiasm was contagious.

"Let's grab the ferry and go over there, see if he shows up tonight," said Darby.

"I'm game. If we hurry we'll be there just in time for the end of
Happy Hour, and I don't know about you, but I sure could use a
little shot of happy right now."

Peyton Mayerson closed her cell phone and took a long, deep,
breath. She exhaled and saw that her hands were trembling. Breathe,
she reminded herself. Just breathe.

God, she wanted a cigarette. She had a rule about not smoking
in the Mercedes but dammit, this was an emergency. She pulled a
cigarette out of her pack, lit it, and sighed.

Just what had he said? The closing on Fairview was in jeopardy.
The whole plan was in jeopardy, and her little wad of cash from
the sale of two paintings wouldn't even begin to make a dent in
what she owed her investors.

And the investors were starting to circle like a band of hungry
sharks.

Peyton inhaled deeply, feeling her heart race despite her efforts
to relax. I can get the hell out of here, she thought, leaning back
against the Mercedes' leather seat. But where? Where could she
possibly run that Tony Cardillo and his men would not find her?

The whistle for the ferry back to Hurricane Harbor blew, but
Peyton, seated in her car in the parking lot, barely heard it. She tried to quell the feeling of nausea that was starting to build in her
stomach.

I need cash, and fast. I need this Fairview deal to work. I need a
break from this frigging island and the ferry and people who can't
speak English.

Peyton grabbed her cell phone again, punching in the numbers
for her lawyer in Boston. Answer your phone, she said out loud,
hoping this time he would actually pick up. When the metallic
voice of his answering machine once more met her ears, she left
another message and clicked shut her phone. He is the key, she
thought. He can make the Trimbles listen if only he would answer his
damn telephone...

From past experience, she knew there was another way to get
his attention, involving what she liked to call her feminine wiles.
Unfortunately, the accoutrements which had so successfully done
the trick once before-a black lace thong and bustier-were back
in her room at the Hurricane Harbor Inn.

Screw it, she thought, turning on her car and backing out of the
parking lot. I can improvise. She thought briefly of Emilio, waiting
forlornly in the hotel room. Screw him, too. She checked the time
on the Mercedes' display. Five o'clock. She would be at the lawyer's
house by ten, ready and willing to plead her case.

The 5:30 P.M. ferry was more crowded than usual as tourists who'd
arrived early for the art show began trickling back to the mainland.
Despite the extra passengers, Tina secured a spot for the truck, and
both she and Darby breathed a sigh of relief.

"I don't even feel like getting out," said Tina, watching as the
throngs of tourists crowed the decks.

"Me neither." Darby opened up a newspaper and pointed at a
story. "Looks like the Island Courier has a story about Lucy," she
said. The two read the several-column story in silence.

"That poor girl," Tina said. "Maybe tonight we'll find something that will help clear her."

It was a short ride to the Dip Net. The parking lot was moderately full for a Wednesday night, with half a dozen cars and pickup trucks parked haphazardly in the lot. Tina and Darby locked
the truck and approached the building. Strains of country music
and the aroma of French fries assailed their senses.

"Man, I'm hungry," Tina said.

"So am I. Burger and fries, my treat."

"I'm gonna want a beer, too."

"You're on."

Inside, the light was dim but Darby noticed a few heads turning in curiosity. Trophy fish adorned the walls and a huge net hung
behind the bar. The bartender gave a friendly nod and Darby and
Tina slid into a booth.

Moments later, he was at their side. Darby ordered food and a
beer for Tina.

"Aren't you having one?" Tina asked. "When it comes to Soames, I find that I need all the fortification I can get."

Darby shook her head. "I promise, I'll have a beer with you
when all this is through."

The women grew silent, waiting for their order and thinking of
the dangerous man they were hunting.

"I gotta say, I know Soames is more than capable of killing
somebody, and he probably shot a whole bunch of guys overseas,
but I have a hard time picturing him smashing that prissy doctor's
skull in," Tina said, re-applying her red lipstick.

"You do?" Darby asked, surprised. She could imagine Soames
doing just about any violent action.

"Yeah, and I'll tell you why. Soames is into strategy, you know,
special ops and stuff. He's a Navy SEAL, right? If he had killed the
guy, he would have done something less bloody. Strangled him,
or caught him in a booby trap. We're talking a man who could
definitely kill with his bare hands. Why pick up some statue of a
garden nymph? That's for sissies."