"I could use some good news, ET. Tell me it's the Costa Brava property?"
"It's the Costa Brava property, all right. That buyer who was nosing around early in the month has decided to put in a fullprice offer. The sellers are thrilled and it looks like this is one mansion that will definitely be sold."
"Fantastic. I really should go away more often."
After saying goodbye, Darby decided on impulse to try Peyton Mayerson's cell phone again. If she's not on the island, then where is she? She needs to know that Lucy and Mark have signed that purchase and sale ...
Darby searched through her contacts and found Peyton's number. Soon she heard the recorded voice of Peyton asking her to leave a message, which she did, along with her own cell phone number. Moments later, to her amazement, her phone rang.
Darby expected the caller to be Peyton Mayerson; instead, it was a man's voice who asked for her.
"Ms. Farr? We've been trying to reach you at your aunt's home"
"Who is this?"
"I'm sorry-this is Special Agent Edward Landis, FBI."
"FBI? What's this about?"
"It's a long story, one that's best explained off island. We'd like to pick you up, Ms. Farr. To talk."
"Pick me up?"
"We have a helicopter waiting at a private airstrip on the island. Do you know the Merewether estate?"
Darby was dumbfounded but still able to speak. "Yes. I know it.
"You can leave your vehicle on the property. Agents Cooper and Cardazzo are waiting for you there. Bring an overnight bag-we've reserved a hotel room at the Ritz Carlton in Boston for you."
"Just what is this about?"
"I really can't explain over the phone. My agents can come and get you at your office, or you can meet them here. Either way, we need your cooperation."
"How do I know this is legitimate?"
"Good question. The agents will have their credentials and you can verify them on site."
Darby said she would arrive at the Merewether estate in ten minutes. She hung up, the strange conversation replaying in her head. Had the FBI contacted her because of her message to Peyton Mayerson?
Tina opened the office door, her hands full of containers. In addition to the beverages she'd purchased at the store, she'd gone to the Cafe and bought a few sandwiches.
"Are you as hungry as me?" asked Tina. "Hope so." She looked at Darby and gave a look of concern. "You okay?"
"Well, I thought I was fine-that is, until that last phone call. You're not going to believe this, but I'm on my way to the Merewether estate where a helicopter is waiting to take me to an FBI meeting in Boston."
"No way!" said Tina. "What in the world is that about?"
"I don't know, and the agent wouldn't say over the phone. If I had to guess, I'd say it has to do with Peyton Mayerson."
"Should I work on those closing documents?"
"Absolutely. Until we know otherwise, the sale of Fairview is on. And until we know why I'm headed to Boston, please don't say anything about this trip. No sense in getting Mark or Lucy upset when we don't have a clue what's happening."
"Agreed"
Tina placed the sandwiches on a nearby desk and snapped her fingers. "I nearly forgot-the Cafe owner said she's all set with the food for the memorial service." She paused. "You will be back from Boston, right?"
Darby nodded. "I'm staying over tonight, but I'll be back tomorrow. Good thing we made the service for Saturday and not Friday." She thought a moment. "I'm staying at the Ritz Carlton if you need me, although I don't have my room number" She frowned. "What about Helen Near? Have you heard when she's arriving?"
"Tomorrow. Don't worry, I'll send Donny to Portland to get her if she needs transportation." Tina lowered her voice. "Do you think this means that Peyton Mayerson is a genuine crook? I can't say I'd be surprised... " She reached for a sandwich, tore off the wrapping and bit into it. Glancing back at Darby while she chewed, she made a sheepish face. "Sorry, but I'm starving." She reached for the other sandwich and thrust it at Darby. "Do me a favor and bring this one with you. You're turning into a skeleton!"
The Merewether estate was on the opposite end of the island from Fairview and was not, in Darby's estimation, as impressive a structure. Built in the same time period but "renovated" in the 1950s, the building sported several ungainly additions that obscured its once graceful lines. A cedar playset in the yard along with a sandbox made Darby pause. Perhaps Merewether wasn't beautiful, but it looked well-loved.
Darby drove the truck to the rear of the property where a black car and two dark-suited men wearing sunglasses were waiting. A helicopter waited on the lawn behind them. Darby parked and walked toward the car. The men introduced themselves as Special Agents Cooper and Cardazzo and each showed her a wallet-sized leather case that held their badges.
Darby scrutinized the badges. They certainly looked authentic, with the imposing Federal Bureau of Investigation insignia. Nevertheless, she was not about to get in a helicopter with two strange men just because their identification looked plausible.
"I need more proof, fellows."
The men glanced at each other and produced their FBI identification badges. Darby scrutinized the photos and handed them back. "I'm still not going," she said.
The agent called Cardazzo shuffled his feet impatiently and frowned. Agent Cooper looked more sympathetic.
"Here," he offered, handing her his cell phone. "This is the number of the bureau. Give them our credential numbers." Darby took the phone and called. Soon the voice on the other end verified that George Cooper and David Cardazzo were indeed FBI Special Agents.
Darby frowned. She called directory assistance for the bureau's number and waited to connect. She then asked for the field office location for the two agents. Moments later, she spoke with someone named Thomas Gray, who verified the agents' whereabouts on Hurricane Harbor, Maine. Satisfied, Darby handed back the phone and allowed the men to escort her to the helicopter.
The machine's pilot waved as Darby got in and signaled that they were about to take off. Darby buckled her seat belt and felt a sensation she'd experienced previously only in elevators or at carnival rides as the chopper lifted. She saw the Merewether estate become smaller, and then watched in wonder as the coastline of Hurricane Harbor came into view. She saw the cove where she'd played as a girl, the Yacht Club, the harbor, and even the ferry going across the water to Manatuck. Seen from above, all of it was beautiful.
"Great view," she shouted to the agents. They remained quiet, seemingly content to accompany Darby to her mysterious meeting and no more. When she tried to ask them about Peyton Mayerson, they shook their heads politely and frowned.
"We're not at liberty to discuss anything," said Agent Cardazzo. The helicopter's whirring blades made a deafening roar, and Darby decided she wouldn't be able to hear him even if he did have information.
An hour later Darby spotted the winding Charles River and Boston Harbor, flanked by tall silver skyscrapers. The chopper circled by a building and landed smoothly on the rooftop. Agents Cardazzo and Cooper helped Darby out, carrying her duffel bag, and indicating that she should follow them into the building. The quietness of the carpeted hallway was in stark contrast to the noise of the helicopter, and when Darby spoke, her voice sounded very loud.
"Where are we going?"
"Right here;" said one of the men. "We appreciate your patience, Ms. Farr. We haven't been able to give you any information, but I think you'll have all your questions answered by Agent Landis."
They opened the door of a conference room and Darby stepped inside. Two men were talking quietly but both stopped as she entered. One of them came forward and introduced himself as Thomas Gray from Washington, D.C. "We spoke only minutes ago. And I believe you already know Agent Landis?"
Darby was about to correct him when the other man turned and faced her. He flashed a boyish grin and Darby recognized Peyton Mayerson's handsome Italian boyfriend.
"Signor Landi
," she said. "Come sta?"
He gave a little bow. "Bene, grazie." He then added, without a trace of an Italian accent, "At your service."
"So you're not... "
"Italian?" he asked. "Actually I do have some Sicilian blood back there somewhere. I'm afraid I learned the language just for this assignment. Luckily Peyton's mastery of Italian is even worse than mine, so she never caught on to my obvious grammatical mistakes." He shook Darby's hand. "Ed Landis, Special Agent, FBI. My focus is Organized Crime."
He indicated a table with a pitcher of water, four glasses, and four chairs. "Please, have a seat."
As soon as Darby was seated, Thomas Gray and Ed Landis settled themselves. Darby noticed that Agents Cooper and Cardazzo had disappeared.
"Now that you know who I am, I'd like to get straight to the point." He opened a file and showed Darby a photograph of a woman with blonde hair who bore a striking resemblance to Peyton Mayerson.
"We've been following this woman-her real name is Penelope Mancuzzi-for five years, but it wasn't until I went undercover and met her in Rome that we made any inroads. She's the sister of a mob boss in New Jersey but has made all her connections on the North shore of Massachusetts, in the Charlestown area. Penelope -you know her as Peyton-is in so deep that her life is in danger."
He paused, as if to let the seriousness of his words sink in.
"We know that Peyton believes she is buying a property in Maine known as Fairview from your clients Mark and Lucy Trimble." Agent Landis looked to Darby for clarification and she nodded.
Here we go again, she thought. Another Fairview deal out the window ...
To Agent Landis, she said, "I was informed through her attorney that the closing would take place on Saturday. I imagine that's not going to happen, given what you're telling me."
"On the contrary," said Ed Landis, shaking his head emphatically. "It's imperative that Peyton Mayerson purchases that property on Saturday and that she suspects nothing." Beside him, his companion Thomas Gray concurred and cleared his throat.
"Basically, Ms. Farr, our whole case collapses if she does not buy Fairview. But if you can keep this deal together, we'll not only have her as the accomplice of these mob guys, but we'll get them on money laundering and racketeering, possibly even counterfeiting."
Darby shook her head. "What about Mark and Lucy Trimble? Will they in fact have sold the property, or is this one big sting operation?"
Ed Landis gave a quick glance at the other man before speaking.
"Technically, the sale of Fairview will not have occurred, unless you want the property seized by the federal government."
Darby exhaled. "You're saying that we should prepare all the documents for Saturday's closing. Then we'll watch Peyton-excuse me, Penelope-and her cronies leave my office in handcuffs, and then we'll head back to Fairview and put out another `For Sale' sign? What about my time? What about my secretary's time? What about my clients?"
Ed Landis paused and gave Darby an appraising glance. "Believe me, your clients are lucky this deal will not get a chance to go through. In fact, the whole island is fortunate. Mancuzzi and her so-called investors were planning to push through the bridge to the mainland, which, as you know, would have made the Fairview property a prime commercial location."
"Commercial?"
"Yes. They had plans for all kinds of development-shopping centers, a water park, some sort of casino-and whether it would have succeeded or not wasn't even something they considered. It was all an elaborate scheme to launder funds from other, illegal operations in the Boston area. Luckily for Hurricane Harbor, the sting operation will end before they get a chance to irreversibly change the island."
"So the wedding idea ... ?
"Pemberton Point Weddings? It's total baloney. A front. Believe me, the last thing these guys think about is running any kind of viable business. Given the chance, they'll sell off the lots and split, just like they have done in other places. They don't let anything stand in the way of their dealings, either"
He frowned. "Listen, I don't like the way this is going to impact you or your clients either, but I thought you should know the facts. For obvious reasons, I couldn't make this meeting happen on Hurricane Harbor." He sighed. "We're not interested in owning Fairview, so I hope your clients will understand the need for this charade. Although, like everyone else but you, they won't know it is a charade until it's over."
Darby grabbed her pocketbook and prepared to leave. "I don't like duping anyone, Mr. Landis, particularly not my clients. I've got a fiduciary relationship with the Trimbles, my chief duty to them being honesty. How can I let them think their property is selling when it isn't?"
"I'm sorry." Ed Landis' voice had a hard edge. "I think when you've had a chance to reflect, you'll see that this investigation takes precedence over your duties as an agent. That's all I can say."
He thrust a business card into her hand. "Don't hesitate to call me with any other questions," he said gruffly. Then his voice softened. "My condolences on the death of your aunt. She had a keen intelligence, and had she lived, I think she might have guessed that I was not a genuine paisan." He smiled and reminded Darby of his portrayal of the affable Emilio Landi. "Enjoy your night at the Ritz -you've certainly earned it. We've got a rental car at the hotel for you to use while you are in Boston, and you can drive it back to Hurricane Harbor, too." He lifted his hands. "Unless you'd like to go back to the island now via chopper."
Still frustrated, Darby walked toward the door. "No, I'll take my night in Boston, thank you. Just one more question, Mr. Landis: could Peyton Mayerson-or Penelope Mancuzzi-have killed Emerson Phipps?"
Ed Landis shook his head. "Absolutely not. I tracked her every movement while she was on that island, and there is no way she was involved in the murder."
He paused. "We do know she was in Lucy Trimble's home the day after Phipps died, and we know all about the paintings she stole. They are on their way back to Lucy Trimble and should arrive next week. She's a thief, all right, and a heck of a lot of other things, but so far at least, Penelope Mancuzzi is not a murderer."
Darby had to admit that her suite at the Ritz Carlton was topnotch. It's the least that Ed Landis can do, she thought. She stretched out on the silk covers of the king-sized bed, the daily paper spread before her, and replayed her meeting with the FBI agents over in her mind. The idea of keeping the "charade" a secret from the Trimbles or Tina was repulsive to Darby. And yet there seemed no other way.
She flipped through the newspaper in a halfhearted manner, taking occasional bites of the somewhat-squished sandwich Tina had supplied her with hours earlier. In the Society Section, she spotted a short mention of a dedication taking place at Boston Memorial Hospital the following morning. Boston Memorial was where Emerson Phipps had practiced, she remembered. She browsed through the rest of the paper, and before she realized it, she'd fallen asleep.
Forty-five minutes later she was awakened by the ring of the hotel telephone. She cleared the cobwebs from her head and answered the phone.
"So the rumor is true! You're on my turf tonight."
"Miles! It's nice to hear your voice. How did you find me?"
"I tried to reach you in Maine, and Tina told me about your helicopter ride to the Ritz."
Darby laughed. "I didn't take the helicopter to the Ritz, and Tina's supposed to keep her mouth shut. I have to say, though, this whole thing gets more and more confusing as time goes on."
"Why don't you tell me all about it over dinner? I'd love to take you to my favorite French restaurant here in Beantown."
Darby agreed and Miles offered to meet her in the hotel lobby at 7:30. "What will you do in the meantime?" he asked. "It's only three o'clock."
"I think I'll give Alicia Komolsky a call. She was Emerson Phipps' sister, and I just want to touch base with her. Perhaps I can meet her for tea somewhere."
"That's a nice gesture. I'm looking forward to hearing all about your adventures tonight."
&
nbsp; Darby found Alicia Komolsky's phone number and her cell phone. Groaning, she realized it was still dead and that she had forgotten to bring her charger. Tossing it back into the overnight bag, she used the hotel's phone to call Alicia. An answering machine picked up and Darby left a message with the Ritz Carlton's phone number. She then treated herself to a long, hot shower in the hotel's luxurious bathroom. When she emerged, refreshed and energized, she felt like a totally new woman.
The phone rang as she was toweling off her long hair.
"This is Alicia," a hesitant voice said. "Alicia Komolsky."
Darby explained that she was in Boston for the evening. "I was thinking about you and your boys. How are you doing? Perhaps we could meet for tea somewhere and chat?"
Alicia sniffed. "That's very kind of you, Darby. I am-we are -we're coping, that's about it. The boys miss their uncle so much already, and I-well I lost a good friend as well as a brother." She swallowed. "It's definitely very hard."
Darby mentioned that she had been on the hospital website and read a tribute to Emerson Phipps.
"Those words have given me a lot of comfort. Several of his patients have called me as well, describing what a wonderful doctor he was. And tomorrow, Friday, they are having a ceremony and adding Emerson's name to the hospital's Remembrance Wall." She paused a moment. "Did you say you are in Boston?"
"I did. I'm here overnight at the Ritz Carlton."
"This may be too much to ask, but I would love for you to come to the ceremony honoring my brother. Of course-if you are too busy-"
"What time is the ceremony?"
"Eleven o'clock."
Darby thought quickly. If she left the ceremony by noon, she'd be back on the island by late afternoon. That would give her time to visit with Helen Near and take care of any last-minute chores before the memorial service on the following day.
"I'd love to come. Shall I meet you there?"
A House to Die For (A Darby Farr Mystery) Page 21