A House to Die For (A Darby Farr Mystery) (14 page)

Mark nodded. The chief grunted and turned back to the hospital bed. After a sip of coffee, he gave Lucy a hard look that made
Darby shiver. "Let me get right to the point. Where were you on
Sunday morning, Miss Trimble?"

"Sunday?" Mark questioned.

Dupont put up a hand. "Yes, Mr. Trimble. That's what the
medical examiner tells me. Dr. Phipps was killed with a blunt instrument yesterday morning between seven A.M. and eleven. The
gardening shears stuck in his gut were a nice touch, but they didn't
kill him."

Mark Trimble rose to his feet. "You can't think Lucy had anything
to do with Emerson Phipp's death," he cried. "That's ridiculous!"

"Mark, please," said Lucy. "He's just doing his job." The effort of
talking seemed to exhaust her and she took a long breath. "Sunday
I was at the church, in the kitchen. I went in around seven A.M.
and was there until the service started at nine A.M. I attended
worship, and then came back and cleaned up. I was home around
eleven A.M. or so"

"What were you doing in the kitchen before church started?"

"I was preparing for communion, cutting cubes of bread and
pouring the juice into the communion glasses."

"That takes two hours?"

"It takes longer than you think," she said.

Laura Gefferelli interrupted. "It has to be cut up into small
cubes and arranged on the platters. Plus Lucy made coffee and
helped set up for the hospitality hour."

The chief turned back to Lucy. "So there were other church
members present?"

"Rhonda Davis and her sister-Lillian's her name, I thinkshowed up at 8:15."

"You were alone until that time?"

"Yes"

The chief shook his head and was about to comment further
when Laura Gefferelli spoke up once more.

"Chief, I don't know if it's helpful, but I saw Lucy in the kitchen
on my way to the sanctuary. That was at 7:30, maybe even earlier.
I could tell she'd been working for some time, as the glasses were
already full."

"Did you speak to Miss Trimble?"

"No, I didn't."

"Why not?"

"I was praying." She turned her calm blue eyes toward the chief
and continued. "Every Sunday I wake at sunrise, get ready for the
service, and spend as much time as possible in quiet contemplation until the service starts. I've always done it. I find it helps center and prepare me for my duties as a minister."

"I see" Chief Dupont turned to Lucy. "Lucky for you Reverend
Gefferelli has a set routine." He scratched his head and frowned.
"That's all for now, I guess, but I may be back with more questions. You'll stick around, right, Miss Trimble?"

Lucy nodded.

Darby rose and walked Chief Dupont out of the hospital room.
"Do you have any other leads?" she asked.

He looked at her warily. "Maybe. Why would you want to
know?" His cell phone rang and he answered it with a curt yes. She
watched him narrow his eyes and nod.

"My deputy just found Emerson Phipps' wallet in the woods
not far from Fairview," he said. "There was no money, but his driver's license was still intact."
"

I don't mean to tell you how to do your job, Chief Dupont,"
said Darby quietly. "But I don't think Lucy Trimble was anything
but an innocent victim today. In fact, she says she was pushed from
that cliff. Whoever murdered Emerson Phipps may have been the
one who hit Donny Pease and shoved Lucy. She could have been
killed as well."

The chief appeared to consider Darby's statements. "I suppose
you have a suspect in mind?"

"Soames Pemberton's trailer is in the woods, not far from Fairview. He could easily have seen Phipps arrival Sunday morning in
the BMW. Perhaps Soames lured Phipps into the shed, killed him,
and returned the next day looking for money."

"Soames? He's got one or two screws loose, but he's not a murderer." The chief turned and started down the hospital corridor.
"Look, I'm not discussing my case with you, Darby Farr, and I'd
like it if you kept your suppositions, however plausible they may
seem, under your hat." He paused and glanced back at Darby. "Tell
Lucy Trimble I said get well soon"

Darby watched the bulky form of the chief as he rounded
the corner. She thought back to the morning's planning board
meeting and Soames Pemberton's appearance with the old deed. Could he have come before the town knowing he'd killed a man in
cold blood only twenty-four hours earlier? Soames is a madman,
thought Darby. I know that firsthand ...

She entered Lucy's hospital room to find Mark Trimble pacing
the floor, eyes blazing with anger. He whipped toward Darby, his
hands gesticulating wildly.

"Can you believe Chief Dupont thinks Lucy had something to
do with this? That man is an idiot."

Laura Gefferelli sat quietly by Lucy's bedside, observing Mark
Trimble's anguish without comment.

Lucy tried once more to calm her brother down. "Mark, please,
he's just doing..."

"I know, I know, his job," Mark scoffed. "Lucy, if you're a suspect now, imagine if he knew about what Phipps did to you. If he
were to find out..."

"I think we need to let you sleep, Lucy," said Laura softly. "I see
they've given you Vicoprophen, which should help with the pain."
She leaned over the hospital bed and gave Lucy a hug. "Don't worry
about the art show," she said. "I'm organizing a few volunteers to
help me and we've got it covered."

"Thanks," Lucy said with a weak smile. "You'll probably sell
more paintings without me."

"I doubt that, but we'll certainly give it our best." Laura turned
her gray eyes toward Darby. "Care to sit down with me in the cafeteria? I'd like to go over a few details about your aunt's funeral."

Darby felt a pang of guilt. With all that had happened at Fairview and the hospital, she'd nearly forgotten about Jane Farr's memorial service.

"Sure," she said. She turned to Lucy. "You and I need some time
to catch up. I'll be back to talk after you've rested"

When Lucy nodded, Darby gave her shoulder a small squeeze
and left the room.

The fluorescent lights of the cafeteria buzzed overhead. The two
women chose a table and pulled out plastic chairs.

"Want anything?" Laura Gefferelli asked, gesturing toward the
coffee machines and food.

"No, I'm all set." The air reeked of macaroni and cheese, but
Darby was beyond hunger. She gave a sigh and regarded the older
woman. "I'm still in shock over Lucy's news that Emerson Phipps
raped her. I remember that summer, although I barely remember
him, but I certainly have memories of the way Lucy changed. She
kind of withdrew into herself, you know, and then her problems
with addiction started."

Laura nodded. "That's often the way it progresses. The shame,
the inability to process the rape, and the effort of acting like all is
normal-it's more than anyone can bear, especially a vulnerable
girl of sixteen." Her normally relaxed face hardened with anger.
"When I think of the way Lucy's mother reacted..." she paused,
and with only minimal effort, seemed to calm herself down. "In
Lucy's case, the fact that she was sent away probably saved her from
going completely over the edge. She's told me before that there
were some caring individuals at the home for unwed mothers, and
they tried to make a very painful experience less traumatic."

Darby pictured Lucy giving birth in New York, away from her
family and friends, and then handing the baby off to strangers ...

coming back to Hurricane Harbor, pretending that she'd spent the
academic year at a prestigious boarding school.

"When did she tell you?"

Laura thought a moment. "A month or so ago. We were working together at the Coveside Clinic, and she chose to open up."
"

I wish I had known she was in such pain," Darby said quietly.

Laura shook her head. "From what little I know of your story,
Darby, you were in pain yourself. You'd suffered your own trauma."
She took a small notebook out of her pocketbook. "Forgive me for
getting down to business, but I have a meeting after this and I want
to get some details together for Jane's service."

"You go from one meeting to another. Do you ever sleep?"

Laura Gefferelli laughed. "Not much, hence the bags under
my eyes. This meeting is about that Women's Center that I told
you about, on the west side of the island. We did get our approval
for the septic system, by the way, so the project is on track." She
paused, and looked down at her notepad. "The whole thing was
actually Jane's idea. She was like that, you know, she thought big.
Instead of adding a wing onto something, Jane suggested a new
building, found it for us, and helped fund it. She really was a remarkable woman."

Darby was silent as Laura ticked off items from her list: Scripture passages, pallbearers, music, flowers ... She tried to listen but
her mind wandered from images of Jane Farr to Lucy Trimble as a
teen. The past-her Hurricane Harbor past-was intruding upon
her present. She heard herself agreeing with things Laura was saying, without knowing, or caring, what they were.

Her confused mental state was abruptly interrupted by a deep
cough.

"Excuse me," said a voice tinged with a British accent. "I'm
looking for Darby Farr."

Darby looked up. She was ten inches away from a rugged face
with a thick shock of dark hair, unquestionably the sexiest face she
had ever seen.

She said nothing for a moment or two, drinking in the feeling
of lust that was overwhelming her whole body. Then she willed
herself to take control of her hormones and answered.

"I'm Darby," she managed. "What can I do for you?"

He smiled and held out a hand. "Miles Porter, journalist from
the Financial Times of London. I wonder if I might have a word?"

They shook hands and Darby glanced toward the amused face
of Laura Gefferelli. Quickly she introduced the other woman and
invited Miles to take a seat.

Laura rose from her chair. "Actually, Darby, I really need to get
back to the island. I have to work on this service and get ready for
my meeting. Nice to meet you, Miles." She gave Darby a little smile
and left.

Miles Porter pulled up a chair and sank gratefully into it. "I'm
bushed. I flew in yesterday and drove up from Boston this morning. I'm afraid I'm not my usual chipper self yet."

You look pretty darn good anyway, thought Darby, noticing the
way his khaki pants fit in all the right places. "What are you doing
in Maine?"

"I'm here to write a story for the FT about real estate," he said.
"Specifically, high-end waterfront property." He paused and pulled
a business card out of the pocket of a tweedy jacket. "Actually, I
was supposed to meet up with your aunt. Tina at the office just
told me of her passing. Please accept my condolences."

"Thanks. You didn't know until you arrived in the United
States?"

"I didn't know until I rang the office an hour ago to say I'd be a
little late for our appointment." He touched his fingertips together
and said lightly, "Turns out I was quite late."

"I'm sorry that you weren't notified, Mr. Porter. I checked her
appointment book but I didn't see your name."

"It's Miles. Please don't worry on that account. It's a business
trip for me, and besides, Tina said I could get an even better story
from you."

"She did?"

He laughed. "She suggested the bicoastal angle-you contrasting the Maine market with the California coast. I think it's a very
good idea. What do you say? There's a free dinner at the restaurant
of your choice in it for you. I'm afraid it does need to be tonight,
however, as I have to be back in Boston tomorrow."

Darby considered. Although she wasn't in the mood for socializing, the Financial Times' affluent, international readership represented just the kind of buyers she coveted as clients. "I'll do it, but
it's going to cost you," she warned. "I have pretty expensive tastes"

"Seeing you in person, I wouldn't doubt it."

He gave her a frank look and she felt the color rising in her
cheeks. Since when am I someone who blushes?

"The restaurant I'm choosing is called Firefall," Darby said.
"It's -"

"Fabulous"

"You know it?"

"I love it. I was hoping you'd pick Firefall. They have room for
us at seven. Will that be too late?"

Darby glanced at her watch. "The ferry back to Hurricane Harbor leaves in fifteen minutes. I need to shower, and change, and it
takes about an hour to get there..."

"That's if you're going by car," Miles said, smiling at her surprised look. "I'll pick you up at the Hurricane Harbor dock at
6:30:' He rose and gave her another grin. "Bring a warm jacket"