A House to Die For (A Darby Farr Mystery) (34 page)

"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."

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?"

"That would be wonderful. You can meet Sam and Michael,
too."

"Great. I will see you at the hospital, then."

Darby hung up, feeling torn. She didn't want to pay tribute to
the man who had raped her friend Lucy, and yet she believed that
memorial services were really for the living. His sister had nothing
to do with the ugly parts of his personality. And she certainly had
nothing to do with his murder...

Darby plugged in the hotel's blow dryer and began to dry
her hair. Emerson Phipps was a young college student when he'd
forced Lucy Trimble to have sex. Perhaps he'd regretted that action.
Perhaps he had spent his adult life doing good works because of that
one evil...

She thought again about Emerson Phipps' sister. Alicia seemed
to be truly devastated with the murder. How close had the siblings
really been? She is the only beneficiary of his estate. She stands to
inherit not only his money, but his posh condominium, that pricey
BMW...

Had Alicia Komolsky known about her brother's obsession
with Fairview? Darby thought back. She remembered the tearful
woman saying her brother had been fascinated by the property.
Was it likely that she'd known about his planned trip to Maine to
purchase it?

Darby willed herself to stop her mind from spiraling out of
control. What is wrong with me? Why can't I accept that the case is
closed and that the perpetrator is dead. Next thing I know, I'll be pinning this murder on Aunt Jane ...

Slowly she put down the hair dryer and looked in the mirror
at her reflection. The raw pain caused by thinking about her aunt
was etched across her face. She's dead, she thought. She's really
gone. And no matter what Tina says, I will never be able to make my
peace with her.

Darby dressed for dinner in a kind of a trance. She wondered if
her inability to accept closure with Emerson Phipps' murder was
really a way for her to avoid facing Jane Farr's death. In her dream,
she'd known there was someone else under Soames' mask. Could
that person have been Aunt Jane? Was the dream not about Emerson Phipps' murder, but about the true underlying demon Darby
Farr had to face?

She pulled a rose-colored sweater set over her head and paired
it with a slim gray skirt and gray flats. Surveying herself in the mirror, she thought she could detect a new calmness that she hadn't
seen in days. There's one more thing to do, she thought, finding her
cell phone. I need to call Laura Gefferelli and make sure my aunt's
memorial service is a fitting tribute.

With her cell phone still useless, Darby dialed out on the hotel
phone. The FBI is paying the tab, she realized. I ought to see what's
in the mini-bar...

Laura Gefferelli offered several suggestions of readings and
passages that complemented Jane Farr's character. "This will be a
large gathering," she warned Darby. "Your aunt touched the lives
of so many here on the island. She really was a legend. And after what you've done to help catch Soames Pemberton and solve this
murder, well, the whole island and half of Manatuck are likely to
come.

Darby smiled, thinking that her aunt would have loved being
the center of a huge gathering. "I've prepared something to read,"
she said. "Maybe after Helen does her tribute?"

"Of course."

Darby and the minister discussed several other aspects of the
service, including flowers, music, and the program. Darby told her
that the Cafe was catering a simple lunch that would take place in
the church's gathering room. When she and Laura Gefferelli finished, Darby was satisfied.

"Thank you so much for all of your help, Laura. I think it sounds
like it will be a lovely service. I'm in Boston, but I'll check in with
you when I get back tomorrow."

"Boston? What are you up to there?"

"It's a long story, but I'm here overnight and on the road tomorrow by one P.M. or so. I'm having dinner with Miles Porter,
and tomorrow I'm meeting Alicia Komolsky, Emerson Phipps'
sister, at the hospital where he worked. They are having some sort
of memorial service for him and I told her I'd attend."
"

I see," said Laura. "Did you drive down? Be careful coming
back tomorrow-there's bound to be traffic and stormy weather
is on the way."

"Good point. I'm in a rental car, and I'll be sure to take it slow."

They said goodbye and Darby grabbed her purse and locked
her room. It was not quite four P.M., but she wanted to walk
around the Public Garden before meeting Miles. Feeling more
peaceful than she had since leaving California, Darby Farr went out the hotel's revolving door, intent on taking a leisurely stroll
through the heart of Boston.

Miles was waiting in the lobby as she re-entered the hotel. He
glanced up and smiled.

"Where have you been?" he asked with a grin.

"Taking a walk and window shopping," said Darby.

"I see. Ready to fill me in on all the details of your mysterious
helicopter trip?"

"No," she said. "Actually, I'm ready to forget all about that and
have a good time with you."