“Hey!” Jack Cameron took a pillow from the couch and tossed it at his sister. “I resemble that?!”
She tossed the pillow back as Mitzi Cameron entered the room. “Children, children!” she laughed, happy to see the two siblings smiling once more. “You’ll get lemonade all over the rug.” She rolled over to the couch. “Need any help?”
“I think we’re all set,” Alexandra answered. “Just make sure Helen brings Darby over.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Mitzi said. “Helen can’t wait.”
_____
Helen was Darby’s only other visitor that afternoon. Wearing her trademark golf shirt and slim navy pants, she marched in and went straight to Darby’s bedside.
“You are looking ten times better, my friend,” she announced. “Rested and relaxed. How’s the pain?”
“Much better. I’m not quite ready to go sell any houses, but I’m getting there.”
“Don’t you worry, you’re selling St. Andrew’s Isle without even showing up! We are passing papers in the morning. I’ll have your commission check when I pick you up at eleven.” She put a small duffle bag on a chair. “Clean clothes. Hope you like what I picked out.”
“That’s great.” Darby thought of ET and the loan she had promised him. Now he would have the money to help out his family.
“Pretty bouquet,” Helen commented, looking at a huge bunch of pink roses, white lily-of-the-valley, and stephanotis. “Mind if I look?” She reached in to read the card and frowned.
“Marty Glickman! That figures.” Her tone softened. “He must feel terrible knowing that Peter was the one who murdered Kyle. All that anger, for all those years, simmering just below the surface. And to think it was St. Andrew’s Isle that set him off.”
Darby sat up a little and winced. “He resented Kyle before she went to work at Barnaby’s, and having her work there all those years ate away at him. You’re right, Helen, losing that listing was the last straw.”
Helen took a peek at another bouquet. “Hydrangea. Now there’s a pricey flower.” She pulled the card out of its envelope. “The Office of the Lieutenant Governor of Florida. Huh. That was nice.”
Darby gave a small smile. “According to Jonas Briggs, Chellie Howe was very relieved to know the killer’s identity.”
“Do you think she suspected her husband?”
“I don’t know. Could be.”
Helen put her hands on her hips. “I’m taking off. You get some rest and I’ll be here to spring you tomorrow at eleven, okay?”
“Sounds great. Thanks for the clothes. I trust I’ll look presentable.”
“Thank heavens.” She gave a fond smile. “See you in the morning. No more adventures for a while.”
_____
Kelly McGee ordered Luna’s snapper paella on Jonas’ recommendation and enjoyed every bite. Even more enjoyable was the way the police detective seemed to grow more and more relaxed, right before her eyes, as she told him stories of a Philadelphia childhood shared with four brothers, three of whom were also cops. First, they’d discussed the shootout at Pine Grove in all of its horrific detail. Kelly had needed to process the event and Briggs was a willing and concerned listener. Then the talk had turned light, and laughter had replaced their shared sadness over Dave DiNunzio’s death.
Now Jonas Briggs regarded her over his glass of Rioja. “How old are you, anyway?”
Kelly felt a flush in her cheeks. How many times had she wished for this exact moment? She looked at him square in the face with determination in her eyes. “Don’t worry, Detective Briggs. I think you’ll find I’m just the right age.”
_____
Darby was showered and dressed when Helen arrived promptly at eleven. “Your Mr. Kobayashi is now the proud owner of St. Andrew’s Isle,” she announced. “He’s ecstatic. Kept smiling and making these adorable little bows at everyone. Tag’s thrilled, too—he’s ready to take off for Arizona and help his sister and nephew.” She grinned. “The only one who didn’t seem pleased was Bernie Schultz.”
“Why is that?” Darby let Helen help her into a wheelchair for her discharge from the hospital. “Won’t he be heading to Arizona with Tag?”
“Turns out our friend Bernie hates the desert.”
“What about Justin Fleischman?”
“Funny you should ask. I’m thinking he could come and work for me at Near & Farr.”
“No more retirement?”
Helen grinned. “Not when there are deals like the one we just made.” She clapped her hands. “Speaking of deals … guess what? Tag invited me out to Arizona to play golf with him once he’s settled.” She gave one of her booming laughs. “Can you believe it? I’m going to play my best game ever, I can just feel it.”
Darby smiled as Helen pushed her down the corridor and out the automatic doors. The humid air hit her like a wall, but Darby didn’t mind. She was happy to be out of the hospital and moving on.
Helen’s Lexus was waiting and she unlocked and opened the door. “Let me help you. Are you still very sore?”
“Much better. I’m taking over-the-counter pain medicine, and it seems to be working fine.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Helen closed the door and hustled to her side of the vehicle. “Because I’m taking you somewhere special for lunch.”
Darby smiled at her friend. “What a good idea. I’m starved.”
_____
The curving drive of Casa Cameron was lined with cars parked all alongside the magnificent old oaks, and Darby turned to Helen with an incredulous look. “I don’t know this many Floridians, do I?”
Helen laughed. “You’d be surprised. There are a lot of folks who want to thank you and wish you well.” She pulled up in front of the massive front door and Harold hustled out, his face ruddy and kind.
“Ms. Farr. It’s wonderful to see you. Let me be of assistance.”
Darby allowed the butler to escort her into the grand entry hall of Casa Cameron and its opulent, cream-colored living room. Dozens of people had gathered, all of whom burst into applause at her entrance.
Jack Cameron was by her side instantly. “Darby, welcome,” he said. “Have a seat.”
Gratefully, she sank into a comfortable armchair in front of the marble fireplace. She glanced up at the portrait of Mitzi Cameron, smiling its coy little grin as always.
Alexandra Cameron, dressed in a white linen sheath dress, appeared and gave her a gentle hug. “Thank you for bringing closure to my brother’s pain,” she whispered. “It isn’t going to be easy, but at least he knows the truth.” Her gray eyes lingered on Darby’s. “I want you to know, my feelings for Kyle were mixed, but I never wished her any harm.”
“I know.” Darby heard the hum of a motor and looked up as Mitzi Cameron approached, a drink in her hand.
“I’m using my new wheels to bring you a Mojito,” she said. “Helen says it’s your favorite. Mind if I sit next to you? You are, after all, the guest of honor.”
Darby looked at the elderly beauty who had suffered so much. “It would be an honor.” She took a sip of the Mojito and smiled. “Delicious.”
A small dog scampered through the guests’ legs, stopping at Mitzi’s wheelchair and wagging his tail with a passion. “Who are you?” she asked with a silvery laugh.
Darby looked closely at the little dog. “Fang?” He spun in a circle as if confirming her question.
“That’s right.” Jonas Briggs and Kelly McGee appeared at Darby’s side. “I’m afraid I couldn’t let this little guy go to the pound.” He gave a sheepish grin.
“He’s got Buddy, too,” Kelly said, looking up at Briggs’ rugged face. She turned back to Darby, her cheeks a warm pink. “I tell you, he’s a softie.”
Mitzi Cameron laughed again. “I remember that fish. Does he still live in that beautiful crystal bowl?”
Jonas nodded. “Yes. Until Jack wants it back …”
“Keep it,” Jack said, coming up with a plate of food for Darby. “I’m glad the
little guy has a good home.” He smiled and handed her a prettily patterned piece of china. “Okay, despite the array of lunch choices here, Marco insisted that I bring you this.”
Darby looked down. It was a miniature-sized grouper sandwich. “Perfect!” she said. “It’s just what I wanted.” She took a bite and grinned. “Please thank Marco for me.”
“Done.” Jack Cameron looked around. “Don’t get yourself all tuckered out, okay? We just wanted to show you how much we appreciate everything you’ve done for the Cameron family.” He took a deep breath. “Including Kyle.”
Darby saw the tightness of his jaw and her heart went out to Jack. She was pondering what to say when Hideki Kobayashi touched her arm. He gave his customary little bow and grinned.
“The beautiful St. Andrew’s Isle is now mine, and I thank you for your expert assistance. I hear that you are feeling better?”
“Yes. Thank you for the lovely flowers.”
“My pleasure.” He lowered his voice. “I have something for you.” He handed her a photo of a graceful sailboat which she recognized as the Nihon Maru. “Remember that although your mother came to Boston with pain, what she found while there was love.” He smiled. “The world can work in mysterious ways.”
She took the photo and examined it. A lovely boat, its sails unfurled against a brilliant blue sky. Her mother’s transport to another world, a world where she’d found hope and joy. “Thank you.”
He bowed once more and backed away, as Sassa Jorgensen appeared. “I did not have the pleasure of giving you your massage,” she said, wagging her finger. “But I have arranged something even better. My dear friend Sven is a therapist in San Diego, and he is going to phone you very soon. He gives an excellent massage …” she grinned wickedly, “and he is very easy on the eyes.”
“Thank you, but—”
“No buts. I insist. My friend Kyle would be pleased.” She gave a wizened smile.
The clink of glasses signifying a speech made a hush fall over the crowd. Mitzi Cameron, sitting in the center of the room, looked as regal as any queen. “We are all extremely grateful to our brave friend Darby Farr,” she began. “And we present her with this very special bottle and our deepest thanks.”
Mitzi wheeled over and gave Darby a dusty bottle of dark brown spirits. Helen appeared and peered down at the label.
“Carto Oro 1903? My goodness, Mitzi, this is pre-embargo! Wherever did you get it?”
“Sshh,” she giggled and glanced around the room. “I confiscated it from John’s stash.” Her voice was a whisper. “Not fit to drink, I’m sure, but as a collector’s item, it’s quite a find.”
“I’ll say,” Helen exclaimed. “I’ve seen bottles go for six or seven thousand dollars at auction.”
Mitzi produced a cloth bag and motioned for Darby to hide her gift. “I wouldn’t let our friend Detective Briggs see it.” She gave a fond smile. “We’ll miss you, won’t we Nell?”
Helen Near looked at Darby with tears in her eyes and nodded. “You’ve become like family to me, Darby. I do hope you’ll visit again.” She brightened as an idea came to her. “We can go down to the Keys.”
Darby cradled the bottle of rum and looked at Mitzi and Helen. “I’ve developed a taste for this sultry weather and the warmth of your friendship.” She gave a grin, barely feeling the tear in her shoulder. “I warn you two—I’ll be back.”
About The Author
Vicki Doudera never imagined her career as a top producing real estate agent would lead to her dream job: mystery writing. A graduate of Hamilton College and the author of several nonfiction books, she entered real estate in 2003, joining a firm specializing in coastal properties and becoming one of its most successful brokers. Meeting clients, touring luxurious homes, and negotiating deals prompted her to pick up her pen and create Darby Farr, a gutsy young agent selling houses—and solving murders. Her debut novel in the Darby Farr Mystery Series, A House to Die For, won praise from coast to coast.
Vicki is an active member of Mystery Writers of America and serves on the New England board of Sisters in Crime. She belongs to the National Association of Realtors and is a past Realtor of the Year. Currently president of her local Habitat for Humanity, she lives, writes, and sells property on the coast of Maine.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title_Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
About_the_Author
Killer Listing Page 28