A House to Die For (A Darby Farr Mystery) (40 page)

"Do you think she loved Laura?"

"Everyone says the sisters were close, but I spoke to a good
friend of Laura's just a little while ago, and she tells a different
story. According to her, Linda harbored some pretty destructive
envy. Laura was far more gregarious, had a serious boyfriend, but
more important, she was mentally sound and happy. That probably ate away at Linda her whole life."

"Laura-I mean, Linda-seemed fine here. So together and
calm."

Darby shrugged. "Who knows? Taking on Laura's career and
Laura's persona might have helped her. Emerson Phipps came into
the picture and threatened to destroy the life and identity she'd
worked for years to create."

There was a knock on the door and the bulky figure of Chief
Dupont came into the hallway. He sank into one of the folding
chairs and gave Darby a long look.

"How are you?" he asked.

"A little sore," she admitted. "Mostly tired."

He nodded. "I'm not surprised. You fought for your life today,
not just against Linda Gefferelli, but also the elements. You used
your wits and determination, and you never gave up." He paused. "I'm thinking about your parents. Both of them were pretty special people, I'll grant you that. But more than anyone, Darby, you
remind me of another fighter-your Aunt Jane."

He put out a pudgy hand and Darby saw that his eyes were
misty. "You're a survivor, Darby Farr. But then all of us on the island have known that a long, long time."

"I suppose I'm every bit as stubborn as Jane Farr," Darby acknowledged. She looked at the fire. "There are so many unanswered questions. Linda killed Emerson Phipps Sunday morning,
before she led the church service. She knew he was going to be at
Fairview-possibly from my aunt. She never saw Lucy Trimble at
the church. Why did she lie and give her an alibi?"

"Near as I can figure, Linda's plan was to incriminate Soames
all along. Lucy Trimble showed up on Monday when Donny found
the body and that complicated things. I think that's why Linda got
her hands on some heroin and poisoned those chocolates. She figured that would put the blame back on Soames. Everyone knew he
was addicted to smack."

"The weapon that Linda Gefferelli used today-any chance
we'll find it?"

Chief Dupont made a grim face. "That stun gun is at the bottom of the Atlantic, and I doubt we'll find any record of her having bought it," he said. "But from your description, it was a pretty
powerful model. Enough to kill a man-or a woman." He looked
at Darby with a meaningful look. "Thank goodness you are in such
good physical shape, or the story could have had a different ending."

"It's all that running through the woods, Chief," she responded
lightly.

The chief rose from his chair and laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Huh. Maybe you've got something there. Anyway, I just want you
to know that I am glad you are okay. We'll do the questions some
other time." He sighed. "I'm going home to have a stiff drink with
Aggie. I'll see you in the morning for Jane's service."

Darby nodded. "Thanks for coming over."

The chief lumbered out of the room and Darby closed her eyes.
The moment when she had faced death at the hands of Linda Gefferelli came back to her in a rush. My father spoke to me, she remembered. He told me what to do to stay alive.

The Clenched Fist. She flashed back to a time when she was
nine or ten years old. There had been a karate demonstration at
the school, given by an elderly Japanese man who had used his
hands and feet so gracefully that it looked like he was dancing.
When Darby told her parents about it at the dinner table, her father had shown her a picture of her grandfather with his black
belt, and her mother had blushed with pride.

"I didn't know Grandfather Sugiyama knew how to fight,"
Darby said.

"Karate is not about fighting, it is about becoming closer to
God," her mother answered, getting up to clear the dinner dishes.
Her father had chuckled and leaned closer to Darby.

"It's about fighting, too," he whispered in her ear. "Come into
the other room, Little Loon, and I'll show you something Grandfather taught me.

"This is called the Clenched Fist, Darby, see? Your grandfather
could use it to drop an opponent for the count of ten and out!
He once told me, `Do not be fooled into thinking that the Karate Clenched Fist blow is as easy as it looks.' Then he showed me the
secret, and I can show you, too..."

She remembered him demonstrating the 90-degree angle that
the front of her fist and her top knuckles made. "See this line?" he
said, tracing his finger along her forearm and bent fingers. "If you
want to be powerful, this line must be straight."

She had practiced hitting a pillow, and then he had tickled her,
and she had laughed and laughed. As her father had tucked her
into bed that night, he'd brushed the hair from her face and said,
"Remember, your grandfather was a great karate fighter. If you
ever need to use the Clenched Fist, you think of him and he will
give you extra power."

Darby smiled at the memory. It was one bright spot in what
had been a terrifying and exhausting day. Her body ached, her
mind was a swirl of storm-tossed images, and she felt overwhelmed
from the sheer effort of processing all that had occurred. Try as she
would, she could not reconcile the memory of the helpful minister
with the deranged Linda Gefferelli.

Alicia Phipps Komolsky took the news hard. "It's like the
wound is being opened up again," she sobbed to Darby when at
last they connected. "How could a trained medical professional-a
nurse-do that to my brother? She worked with him! Why did she
have to end his life?"

Darby agreed that there was no understanding such an action.
Her words were of little comfort to Alicia, she knew, and yet the
truth-that Linda Gefferelli had murdered Emerson Phippsneeded to be told. Just like I need to tell Mark and Lucy the truth
about Peyton Mayerson and tomorrow's bogus closing...

She closed her eyes and had an inkling of an idea.

Darby was still sitting before the fire when Tina Ames checked in a
half-hour or so later.

"Everything is all set for tomorrow," she said, poking one of the
logs with a tong. "The service will be held at the Island Community Center, and all kinds of people have stepped forward to help,
including Helen."

Tina saw Darby's look of consternation. "Now don't you worry
about Helen-she's fine. Lucy Trimble took her for dinner and
made sure she was comfortably situated in the Inn. Helen's all
set. She said she'll give you a big hug in the morning" Tina gave a
reassuring nod. "Tomorrow is going to be a wonderful tribute to
Jane, you'll see, and I don't want you to worry about it at all." She
paused. "Darby, are you going to be okay?"

Darby nodded. "I'm just thinking, trying to sort it all out. There
are so many loose ends. That man who lives on Sheepscot-he's an
Ames. Is he any relation to you?"

Tina smiled. "'Course. He's my dad's cousin. Crazy as a coot for
staying on that little patch of nothing, but I'm sure glad for your
sake that fellow from the Island Association was in the habit of
checking on him."

She gave Darby a quizzical look.

"I don't mean to nag, but have you called that Miles Porter
back? He tried you again about a half hour ago."

Darby rose from her chair and stretched. "I'll call him right
now, Tina. You go home and get some rest. Thanks for everything
and I will see you in the morning."

Back in the cozy cottage, Darby pulled on pajamas and crawled
under the bed's down comforter. Feeling snug and safe, she dialed
Miles Porter's phone.

The moment he answered, Darby knew why she had waited to
call. The sound of his voice-the care, the concern-was too much
for her, and she broke down, sobbing, like she had never cried in
her life.

He waited a moment or two, and then he asked her if she
wanted company. "I'm on the island," he said simply. "But I don't
want to intrude."

"You're here? On Hurricane Harbor?"

"Yes"

"Please come over," Darby said. "I'll be waiting."

Seated in a tiny restaurant on the north shore of Boston, Peyton
Mayerson took a bite of her veal scallopini and pronounced it
perfect. Her dining companion and attorney, Arthur Toussaint,
gulped down his glass of Chianti and scowled.

"This is the last time these guys are gonna help you out, Pen,"
he said, looking around the little restaurant with an air of indifference. "It's like that story my mother used to tell us, about the boy
who cried wolf, you know? You've cried wolf one too many times,
you know, and they're not putting up with it anymore."

Peyton put down her fork and looked at him with narrowed
eyes. "You've got some nerve threatening me," she spat. "Those
guys-Tony, Reggie-they wouldn't be getting anything if I hadn't
held this together. The bridge contract, the lots, the construction
loans-it's all my doing."

"I'm not threatening you, Pen! I'm your friend, for Chrissake.
One of your few real friends," he said pointedly, stabbing a forkful
of ziti and bringing it to his lips. "Not to mention I'm your lawyer,"
he added.

Peyton watched him eat the pasta with smoldering eyes. There's
something going down, she thought. Something's happening, I just
don't know what.

Struggling to keep her tone light, she said, "Well, it will all be
over tomorrow, right?"

He nodded, spearing more of the hapless tubes on the tines
of his fork. "The docs are all in Maine, with that real estate agent.
What's her name?"

"Darby Farr."

"Yeah, that's right, Darby Farr. Some big hoopla with her today.
My guy up there told me she nearly got popped out in the bay by
some other broad."

"Really?" Peyton thought a moment. Who could that have
been?

She dabbed at her lips with her napkin. So that's what it was,
nothing more-a little excitement on the island. "None of that concerns us, I suppose, as long as she's able to close the deal." She took a
sip of her wine. "As far as logistics, you'll have my money, right?"

"It's already there and waiting." Arthur motioned for the waiter
and ordered another bottle of wine. "We can celebrate early," he
said, grinning broadly.

Inwardly Peyton groaned. She knew what was on his mind and
had no intention of spending another night with him. Instead she
smiled and said gaily, "By all means, Arthur. More Chianti."