A House to Die For (A Darby Farr Mystery)

by Vicki Doudera

  "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."

  The Island Community Center was full to capacity, and Darby Farr found herself greeting people that she had not seen for a decade. Old friends of her parents; retired teachers she'd had in school; and a robust woman with white hair who turned out to be Jane Farr's attorney, Claire Doyle.

  "My condolences, Darby. Your aunt was quite a woman. Still had some surprises up her sleeve, right to the end." She winked. "We'll talk later."

  Helen Near was tanned and healthy: a walking advertisement for the Florida lifestyle. She gave Darby a big hug, as promised, and then looked her over with tears in her eyes.

  "I never met your mother, but Jane told me you resembled her," she said. "And yet I see some of your father-and Jane-in your face." She gave a sad smile. "Everyone is so friendly and caring. No wonder your aunt loved this island so."

  "She didn't care for it at first, but the community definitely grew on her." Darby looked around the room. The service had yet to start: everyone was still milling about, finding seats and swapping stories. "I never really thought about it before, Helen, but when my parents died, and Aunt Jane came to live here, you went out of your way to make that transition smooth. I'm grateful."

  "Why, what else would I have done?" Helen asked, surprised. "Jane needed to be with you. That's what you do for family. Jane knew that as well as anyone." Helen lowered her voice slightly. "Your aunt wasn't perfect, I'll grant you that. She didn't know a thing about raising children, never mind a grief-stricken teen. But she did her best, and by the looks of you, I'd say she succeeded rather nicely."

  Darby smiled. "Thank you." She saw the Island Center's director make a hand signal that they should begin, and she nodded. Helen gave Darby a final squeeze, wiped a tear from her eye, and took her seat in the front row. Before long, more than a hundred islanders and friends had followed suit.

  Darby cleared her throat and went up to the microphone.

  "Friends, thank you all for coming," she began. "Today is the day we celebrate the life of Jane Jenson Farr, our friend and fellow islander. I'm her niece, Darby, and I want to tell you personally how much it means to me that you are here to honor someone we all knew and loved."

  As she said the words she'd rewritten that very morning, Darby realized that at last she truly meant them. She loved her aunt and wanted to celebrate her legacy as well as her flaws. Perhaps coming so close to death had made her realize the fragility of life, or perhaps she was finally ready to grow up.

  She saw the smiling face of Miles Porter seated in the second row. The night before, after his phone call, he'd wasted no time in arriving at the cottage, bringing with him a tenderness and gentleness that Darby's battered body required. She smiled back and hoped the rest of the audience did not see her blush.

  When the service was over, and the last of Jane Farr's friends had shared their memories before departing into the bright afternoon sun, Darby looked across the Island Community Center at the cleanup crew of Tina, Donny, and Miles. She watched as they chatted together, tossing away paper plates and cups, covering food that could be kept for later, and restoring order to the large gathering room. A lump formed in her throat. It's been an emotional couple of days, she thought, swallowing hard. And it's not over yet...

  The door to the Community Center opened and Ryan Oakes, accompanied by Mark and Lucy Trimble, entered. Lucy came up to Darby and placed a hand on her forearm.

  "It was a lovely memorial, Darby." She paused. "You ready to head out?"

  Darby nodded and called a "thank you" over to the others.

  "Our bill is in the mail," said Miles with a grin.

  Peyton Mayerson and her attorney, Arthur Toussaint, were already waiting outside Near & Farr when Darby, Lucy, and Mark arrived.

  "Glad you decided to show up," Peyton sang out, as the three emerged from Mark's car.

  Mark muttered under his breath, "That woman really gets under my skin."

  Darby managed a smile. "Oh really?"

  "Now, now," Lucy soothed. "Let's just get this done."

  Darby unlocked the office and gathered chairs around the conference table. The five sat down and Darby began to go through the documents.

  "Here is the deed we agreed upon," she said, giving a copy to Arthur Toussaint. He grunted, showed it to Peyton, and placed it in a file.

  "This is a sketch of the boundaries," Darby explained, handing Peyton's lawyer another piece of paper. "And here is the list of personal property which is also conveying with the house."

  Arthur Toussaint waved his hands in the air and gave an exasperated look. "We don't have all day, Ms. Farr. May I present the settlement statement, or do you have a few more pieces of paper you'd like to push my way?"

  Darby made a show of looking through her file as she stalled for time. Where was Ed Landis? When would he arrive to arrest Peyton?

  She pulled out a property disclosure form. "Actually, I do need a signature on this document," she said, giving the paper to Peyton.

  "Where do I sign?" Her voice was flat with boredom.

  "Right here-after you've read it, of course."

  Peyton shot a murderous look in Darby's direction and began to read the three-page disclosure.

  Arthur Toussaint placed a form on the table in front of Lucy and Mark. "While my client is signing that, here is what you will be signing. There's the purchase price of the property, $5.2 million, minus the commission and other fees. I have a check for Near & Farr Realty right here, and the remainder in a nice big cashier's check." He pulled papers out of an envelope and glanced at Darby.

  Peyton Mayerson looked up from the papers. "Don't spoil my fun, Arthur. I want to be the one to give Darby the check." She handed the papers to her and signed the settlement statement. "After all, I'm the one who's the new owner of Fairview."

  "Not quite," said Ed Landis, bursting through the door, his gun pointed at Peyton. He grabbed her by the arm, "You're both under arrest." Another man, Landis' partner, grabbed a startled Arthur Toussaint, who looked as if he was about to vomit.

  "Emilio?" Peyton shrieked. "What's going on?"

  "FBI." Landis read the two their rights and signaled for his partner to handcuff them.

  Peyton's shocked expression turned quickly to disdain. "You," she spat, shaking her head at Ed Landis. "You're a Fed?" She smirked and gave a bitter chuckle. "Unbelievable. I slept with a federal agent. That will be something for my memoir."

  Ed Landis lifted his eyebrows and pulled her toward the door. "Good idea, Penelope. You'll certainly have lots of time to write."

  Landis and his part
ner shuffled Peyton and Arthur Toussaint out the door and into a waiting unmarked car, leaving Darby, Mark, and Lucy in their wake.

  "Wow," said Lucy. "What just happened?"

  Darby turned to them both. "Peyton is actually Penelope Mancuzzi, and she's wanted by the government for her connections to organized crime." She saw the disbelief on their faces and felt sick. Would her next plan even work?

  "So what you're saying," began Mark slowly, "is that we do not have a sale of Fairview..."

  "Oh, I don't know about that," Darby said lightly. She looked out the window to the parking lot and signaled to someone. Moments later, Ryan Oakes strode into the room, papers in hand and a smile on his face.

  "I'm here to make an offer on Fairview," he said, brandishing a purchase and sale agreement. He turned to Mark and Lucy. "I believe your property is available, and I'm ready-on behalf of the Island Association-to buy it."

  Mark reached out for the contract and looked it over. A moment later he was laughing and handing the paper to Lucy.

  "What do you say?" prompted Ryan.

  "It looks like we have a deal," quipped Lucy. Darby watched as Ryan Oakes pulled a crisp, one dollar bill out of his wallet and presented it, with a flourish, to Lucy Trimble.

  Mark gave an apologetic look. "Donating Fairview is fine with me, Darby, but I'm afraid there isn't much in the way of commission for you. Other than the highly coveted lifetime membership in the Island Association."

  "Some deals can't be measured in dollars and cents," smiled Darby. "I'm glad to know that Fairview will be put to good use."

  Ryan Oakes was grinning. "It's a dream come true for us. We plan to have a gallery, a small restaurant, offices, and, of course, a great room to entertain our wonderful donors." He smiled at Lucy and Mark Trimble.

  "Speaking of dreams," said Mark. "There's one more piece of business to attend to. Come with us, Darby."

  Dusk was falling as they drove to Jane Farr's house. Darby was surprised to see several cars in the driveway, and she entered to find a small cocktail party in full swing in her aunt's living room. Once again, a crackling fire blazed in the hearth.

  Glasses were raised as she entered, and Tina hastily handed her one. "We can't have a toast without champagne," she explained, smiling.

  She made sure that Ryan, Mark, and Lucy each had a glass.

  "Here's to Fairview and its new life as the Maine Island Association Center," said Mark, "and to Darby Farr, for making it all possible."

  While the firelight danced on her glossy black hair, Darby smiled and lifted a champagne glass. "To Fairview," she said, looking around the room. Miles Porter gave her a grin and Chief Dupont nodded in her direction.

  "Thank goodness it has finally sold!" exclaimed Tina.

  Ryan Oakes chuckled. "Did you think you'd sell it on the deck of a tug during a tropical storm, Darby?"

  "No," she admitted. "But I'm sure it's something my Aunt Jane would have approved of."

  Chief Dupont nodded. "You're right about that. She was a firm believer that real estate trumped everything, that's for sure. And she loved happy endings."

  Lucy poured some water into her champagne glass and lifted it again as a toast. "Here's to more happy endings," she said. "For instance, I believe there's someone here with something special for you, Miss Darby Farr."

  Darby watched as Lucy looked around the room and smiled at the elegantly dressed older woman with whom Darby had spoken that morning.

  Claire Doyle moved through the crowd. In her hand she carried a letter-sized white envelope which she handed to Darby.

  "Go ahead, see what it is," urged Tina.

  Darby took the envelope and opened it up. Inside was a key chain with two keys and an address.

  "Two-twenty Cove Road," she read. She looked up, incredulous. "That's my old house. What's this all about?"

  "A final surprise from Jane Farr," said Lucy. "You tell her, Claire."

  Claire Doyle fixed her gray eyes on Darby and smiled kindly. "Your aunt told me on numerous occasions that she had one regret: selling your childhood home. She always said that it was the one deal she should never have made." She paused. "When the property came on the market a few years ago, she gritted her teeth and bought it back, even though she had to pay triple what she sold it for! Since then, it has been rented to a young mother and her daughter, but the deed is in your name"

  Darby remembered seeing the small blonde girl sitting at the kitchen table with her crayons. She smiled. "I don't believe it. I wish she had told me."

  "Oh, your aunt was like that," Tina said. "Liked to have a few tricks up her sleeve." Tina downed her champagne and looked around for the bottle. "When it comes down to it, everyone likes to have their little surprises, I guess."

  "Or big ones," said Mark.

  Lucy Trimble handed Darby a large canvas wrapped in tissue paper. "We wanted to give you something to show our appreciation for everything you've done, Darby," she said. "I hope you'll be able to bring it on the plane."

  Darby unwrapped the canvas. Lucy had painted a vibrant sky with an island surrounded by a tranquil azure sea.

  "It's beautiful!" she exclaimed. She read the title of the painting. "New Beginnings." She smiled at Lucy. "Thank you. It's very appropriate."

  Miles Porter stepped forward to admire the scene and give Darby a secret squeeze on the waist. "It's brilliant, Lucy, absolutely brilliant."

  "I feel like we all have a fresh start," said Lucy with feeling. "I'm going to see if I can find that baby boy I gave up years ago, and if he wants to see me, I'm going to try."

  Mark Trimble glanced at Ryan Oakes. "I know I'm charting a new course.

  Darby Farr looked around the room at the faces she had come to love. "Here's to new beginnings," she said, "and happy endings, too."

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I owe a debt of gratitude to many people who have helped me on my journey.

  First, to my parents-thank you for teaching me to love books and mysteries. To my friends in Camden and beyond, especially Elaine, Patty, Nancy, Cindy, Becky, Lynda, Valerie, Marya, and Trish-thanks for your friendship and support. To fellow members of the Mt. Battie Book Club. I'm grateful for our insightful discussions of all kinds of books. And to my hiking group, "Twelve Wild Women"-you keep me moving! Thanks for the enthusiasm over the years.

  I appreciate the skill of my manuscript readers: Becky Ford, Lynda Chilton, Lucy Morgan, Gloria Guiduli, Valerie Alex, and Ed Doudera. A big thanks to Alexandra Doudera for her design talent, and Erika Doudera for her insight into Darby's heritage.

  For specialized assistance when I needed it, thank you to Attorney Linda Gifford of the Maine Association of REALTORS@; William J. Albany, Chief of Police, Limerick Township, Pennsylvania; Patricia McGee Albany, R.N.; and Public Affairs Specialist Philip Edney, Federal Bureau of Investigation.

  Thank you to my literary agent, Tris Coburn, and to all the good people at Midnight Ink, including Marissa Pederson, Connie Hill, Brian Farrey, and Terri Bischoff. I'm looking forward to our continued partnership.

  Much appreciation to my fellow real estate agents in Maine, above all the team at Camden Real Estate, and to Tess Gerritsen, a friend who has taught me so much over the years.

  Finally, this book would not have been possible without the support, love, and encouragement of my family. Thank you Mom, Will, and Lucia-as well as Matt, Nate, Lexi, and especially, Ed.

  T Q L Q) O O t d 3 O LL

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Vicki Doudera never imagined her career as a top selling real estate agent would lead to her dream job: fiction writing. A graduate of Hamilton College and the author of several non-fiction 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 agent selling houses-and solving murders. The thrilling result is her brilliantly twisted debut novel, A House
to Die For.

  Vicki has written two nonfiction books, Moving to Maine and Where to Retire in Maine. Her magazine credits include Yankee, Parenting, Reader's Digest, The Old Farmer's Almanac, Down East, and People, Places & Plants.

  She belongs to the National Association of REALTORS(r) and is president of her local Habitat for Humanity. She lives with her family on the coast of Maine.

  Contact Vicki at www.vickidoudera.com.

  If you enjoyed reading A House to Die For, here's an excerpt from the next Darby Farr Mystery,

  Open for Murder

  PROLOGUE

  KYLE CAMERON LET OUT a long moan of pleasure as her massage therapist gave one more long, gliding stroke to her lightly tanned shoulders.

  "Like sex, only better, eh?" asked Sassa Jorgensen, smiling with satisfaction at her client's inert form.

  "Ummmm ... way better." Kyle lay motionless for a few precious moments, savoring the feeling of total relaxation she always experienced after her weekly session with the talented practitioner.

  "You are the best, Sassi." Kyle rolled over slowly, pulling the soft terry towel over her torso. She didn't care if the older woman saw her naked-she'd done so many times and besides, Kyle was justifiably proud of her firm, forty-two-year-old body-but the towel was warm and soft, and the temperature in the air-conditioned condominium was beginning to feel chilly.

  Sassa capped the multi-vitamin lotion she'd slathered on Kyle's skin and placed it in her satchel. She gave a sly smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling with mischief. "Your Sassi can make you feel as good as your big-shot boyfriend, eh?" she teased, handing Kyle her plush terry robe. "Even with his fancy dinners, private jet, and undoubtedly large-"

  "Now that's enough," Kyle interrupted, laughing. "I've told you before, there's no competition between you and any of my lovers. Are you this probing with all of your clients?"