A House to Die For (A Darby Farr Mystery)

by Vicki Doudera

  She grabbed a bailing bucket and tried frantically to remove some of the water, but with the pelting rain it was useless. She peered toward the Graves, finally seeing Sheepscot Island behind the hulking rocks. She prayed she would get there before the boat was swamped and she was tossed overboard.

  Concentrating on her course and the rising water, she did not see Linda Gefferelli as she staggered to her knees, preparing to push Darby into the foaming sea ...

  Intuition made Darby glance in the direction of the woman just in time to avoid Linda's thrust with her tied hands. She ducked, but Linda was unstoppable, screaming in a high pitched wail, her eyes wide with fury.

  "You're going to die! Just like your parents... "

  Suddenly the boom of the boat came alive. Darby watched as it was wrenched upward, as if by an invisible hand. With deadly force the wind jerked it to the side. Smack! The steel made contact with Linda Gefferelli's skull, continuing on its path and driving her into the water.

  Darby saw the blonde head bob for a moment in the angry waves. Linda's eyes were closed; her head slumped to the side. Blood trickled down her forehead as the water engulfed her and she sank under the churning sea.

  Darby looked at where the boom had been and saw more water pouring into the sailboat. She grabbed a boat cushion from the bottom and prepared for the shock of the frigid seawater. There is nothing more I can do but swim, she thought, trying to keep herself from panicking. Maybe I'll get lucky and be washed onto a rock ...

  A voice on the waves reminded her of her father. It was a man, yelling something, but she could not focus her eyes to see him. The wind was roaring like a caged animal and it filled Darby's ears with its baleful cries. Once again she imagined the voice. "Hey! Hey! Anyone aboard?"

  With an effort, Darby tried to peer through the driving rain. Was that a tug chugging through the churning water toward her? She heard the engine sputtering, and could just make out the shape of a slicker-clad man at the helm. "Hey," he called. "I'll come alongside and get you. Don't worry, you're safe"

  The words summoned up strength from deep in Darby's core. A second wind, her father used to call it.

  "I'm here!" she called over the moan of the wind. "I'm right here."

  The tug came closer and Darby pulled herself up. The water inside the boat was up to her hips; the little craft was nearly underwater.

  "Darby?" the tug captain called. "It's Darby, right? Here, grab onto me ... I've got you..."

  The strong grasp of Ryan Oakes pulled Darby from the sinking deck of What's in a Name and onto his boat, a sturdy steel research tug.

  She exhaled. "Your timing is impeccable, Ryan." Together they watched as the abandoned sailboat sunk into the sea, the stern disappearing first and the rest rapidly following.

  "Too bad," Ryan yelled over the wind. "She was a pretty little thing." He turned to Darby. "Grab a dry blanket below deck. Then come back up and tell me why in the world you were out here in this weather"

  "I could ask you the same thing," Darby replied. "But first I'll grab that blanket."

  Chugging back toward Hurricane Harbor, Darby gave Ryan the details of her capture by Linda and her fight for her life. "I'd like to call Chief Dupont, if your radio is functioning."

  "Sure," he said, his voice sober. "Channel 23."

  Darby contacted the station and asked the dispatch to have the chief call her immediately. She came back on deck, noticing with relief that the storm was starting to lessen in intensity. "You haven't told me why you were out in the storm?"

  "There's an old man, Milton Ames, who lives on Sheepscot Island. I come out to check on him every Friday." He shook his head. "I nearly skipped it today, the storm was so bad."

  Darby managed a smile. "Lucky for me you stuck to your routine. Is visiting people like Milton part of your job with the island Association?"

  "In a way. I've been trying to convince him for a few years to move to Manatuck, or even Hurricane Harbor, but he loves that little island." He took a look at the sky and pointed to the west. "Starting to clear."

  Darby saw the break in the cloud cover and sighed. They were nearly at the town dock, and she had one more question for Ryan Oakes before telling Chief Dupont about the murder of Emerson Phipps.

  "Ryan," she asked, pulling the warm blanket more tightly around her wet shoulders, "is the Island Association in the market for a new headquarters?"

  He nodded. "We're renting space, but our lease is nearly up, and it's certainly not an ideal location." He turned the boat in the direction of the town dock. "I have to admit, our funding is pretty sparse. It would have to be a heck of a good deal."

  Darby grinned, her spirits buoyed by the sight of the island and the little group assembled on the town dock: Tina, Mark, Lucy, Donny Pease, and a very concerned looking Chief Dupont. She turned back to Ryan Oakes. "Give me a day to figure it out. Trust me, though-what I've got in mind would be the deal of the century."

  SIXTEEN

  DONNY PEASE LIT A match to the kindling in Jane Farr's fireplace and a bright blaze sprang to life. He added a few slender logs, replaced the fireplace screen, and sat back on his haunches.

  The aftermath of the hurricane was more than downed tree branches and power lines. Donny still couldn't believe the news that Laura Gefferelli, the island's minister for more than two years, had stuck those shears in the doctor's chest. Not only that, but she'd killed Soames Pemberton, poisoned Lucy, and tried to drown Darby Farr. Most unbelievable of all-she wasn't even a minister!

  Earlier in the day, when he'd been adding extra fenders to his boat, Donny had seen Laura Gefferelli heading out in What's in a Name. He'd considered asking her why she was going to sea in a storm. But in the end he'd remained quiet, keeping his thoughts to himself. She's moving the boat to safer quarters, he'd convinced himself, although everyone knew Hurricane Harbor's sheltered cove was one of the most protected inlets around.

  He'd felt it was strange, and yet he'd said nothing. Meanwhile, Darby Farr was onboard What's in a Name, a prisoner trapped in a sail bag.

  He stood and felt the fire's increasing warmth. The Lord works in mysterious ways, he thought. And half the time you can't even tell if He's working.

  He turned his attention to the little gymnasium assembled in the living room. Tina wanted several of the machines moved, so Donny dragged a few pieces of exercise equipment into the dining room.

  Tina appeared from the basement with several folding chairs and a disgusted look on her face. "These aren't very comfy, but they'll have to do," she said, wiping them off with a rag. "Whatever was that woman thinking, getting rid of all her furniture?"

  Donny helped Tina to set up the chairs around the fire. When they were finished, she glanced at the fire and smiled.

  "This feels good on a damp night like this, doesn't it?" She looked down at her red-painted nails. "Kind of romantic."

  Donny chewed on his lip. Women were such strange creatures, likely to say anything that popped into their heads. He saw Tina look over at him and shyness overtook him.

  "Fire's are nice," he managed to blurt out, thinking he sounded like that idiotic night manager at the hotel. He thought about how many times he'd missed opportunities to say things, about how Darby Farr could have died because of his reluctance to open his mouth. Donny Pease took a deep breath and drew himself up to his full height of five-feet-eight inches. "'Course, I got a nice Rumford fireplace of my own, back at the house..."

  Tina's head shot up and she smiled. Their eyes met and Donny felt a rush of gratitude toward all of creation, animals, storms, dying apple trees, and people, especially the person standing barely a foot away: a tall, curly-haired lady with fire-engine-red fingernails.

  After a hot shower and a steaming mug of tea, Darby Farr felt warm again and reasonably calm. She knew Chief Dupont would be returning to take her statement, and felt sure she was ready to give it.

  Tina was waiting for her in Jane Farr's living room. A cheerful blaze burned in the fireplace, a
nd Darby thanked Tina for its warmth.

  "Donny took care of it, before he went back to the house. I'll tell him you appreciated it." She turned to Darby and her face filled with anguish. "I can't believe that woman almost killed you. That she came so close to succeeding ... If something had happened to you, Darby, I-" Tina began to cry, and Darby remembered their first meeting in the Portland Jetport, and Tina's tears over Jane Farr's condition.

  Darby hugged Tina while the fire crackled and popped before them. "Tina, I didn't die. I'm right here." She smiled at the still sniffling woman. "It takes more than a homicidal ex-nurse to derail me in the middle of a deal. I'm more determined than ever to sell that darn Fairview!"

  Tina laughed and wiped her eyes. "You don't let anything get you down, do you?" She sighed deeply. "We all trusted that woman. Your aunt loved her. I just can't believe she had all of us fooled."

  Darby nodded. "I think she had herself fooled, too. I'm not an expert on mental illness, but I believe Linda Gefferelli was unstable for a long, long time. Miles did a little digging and says there were some questionable behaviors when she worked at the hospital; apparently some of her colleagues were wary. And then there was the wrongful death of a premature infant. Linda was on the line for that. When her sister Laura died, I think she saw a way out of a lawsuit, as well as the chance to start a new life."

  "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. "'Cou
rse. 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."