A House to Die For (A Darby Farr Mystery) (35 page)

I get it. Mum's the word. I can definitely deal with that."

Darby and Miles laughed, ate, drank, and talked their way through
a marvelous meal, capped off by a perfect creme brulee.

"Well? Is my little restaurant as good as the home-cooked fare
you remember?" teased Miles.

"Definitely. My mother would have loved this place. I can just
imagine her asking to meet the chef, and then questioning him
about his techniques..." She smiled. "She was always trying to unlock the secret of the perfect creme brulee." She grew pensive. "You
know Miles, some mysteries are just not meant to be solved, are
they?"

"Are you thinking about the murder of Emerson Phipps?"

"No-my parents' disappearance. I've spent years wishing that
someone, somehow, would tell me how and why they vanished on that August day all those years ago. In some ways, I think I hung
on to the hope that they would actually reappear."

"That's a normal reaction to death, isn't it?" he asked gently.
"What about your aunt? Did she try to help you with your grief?"

"My aunt knew that I wasn't accepting it. Today they call my
behavior `denial,' right? In Jane's blunt and straightforward way,
she tried to get me to face the fact that they were gone. Of course,
I hated her for that."

"Maybe it was easier to hate her than to accept your loss?"
Miles' voice was very kind.

Darby nodded. "I think you're right. It hurt less to be angry
with Jane Farr than to grieve for my parents." She sighed. "I realized this afternoon that I was doing it all over again."

"What do you mean?"

"Avoiding the pain of a loss, only this time it is Aunt Jane's
death that I'm trying to evade."

Miles placed his hand over Darby's. "In the newspaper business, we say knowing is the first step. Now you know. You'll figure
it out. I know you will."

Darby smiled. "Thanks."

Miles walked Darby back to the Ritz Carlton while a warm June
wind floated the scent of roses from the nearby Public Garden.
Darby looked up at the beautiful old hotel and then back at Miles
wistfully. "Miles, I would ask you to come up, but-"

He reached and very tenderly put a finger against her lips. "Our
time will come." His voice was as soft as the breeze ruffling the flags outside the lobby. "This evening was a wonderful surprise for
which I'm extremely grateful. This was a perfect gem of a night."

He kissed her on the cheek. "I'll be in touch with you, Darby
Farr. We'll take it slow."

"Slow," she murmured. "Slow would be good."

"I'm coming tip to Maine for the day early on Saturday, for your
aunt's service. I'm happy to help you with anything you need."

"You don't have to drive up for that, Miles."

"I know I don't have to," he said. "I'd like to."

She nodded, feeling a rush of gratitude for the handsome, intelligent, and caring man who'd somehow dropped into her life.
"I'll see you Saturday, then. It will be wonderful to have a friend
there."

COCOONED IN HER QUIET room and comfortable bed at the Ritz
Carlton Hotel, Darby slept deeply and dreamlessly. She arose feeling refreshed, looked at the clock on the bedside table, and decided
she had time for a quick run around Boston Common.

The air was warm and soft. A perfect June Friday, Darby thought,
enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face and bare arms as she
ran. The swan boats in the Public Garden were gliding back and
forth, and a few mothers were already out with their babies, pushing
strollers down the winding paths.

After logging three miles through the Common and around
Beacon Hill, Darby bought a muffin and coffee from a little shop
by the hotel. Once back at her suite, she took a quick shower, gave
her room a once-over to be sure she'd packed everything, and took
the elevator to the lobby.

The desk clerk handed her a key to a rental car and indicated
which part of the parking garage she would find the vehicle.
"Pretty nice one, too," he confided. "Not a scratch on her."

Darby accepted directions to Boston Memorial Hospital and
took the elevator to the parking garage. She located the car-a
brand-new Chrysler Sebring-without much difficulty and was
soon navigating Boston's old thoroughfares. After only one misstep, she pulled into the parking lot of the hospital by the visitor's
entrance. Out of habit, she thought of checking her cell phone for
messages, frowning as she remembered that it was stuffed inside
her overnight bag, useless.

"Rats," Darby said to herself. "No business calls for me today.
I'll be listening to the radio on the way home."

She locked the car and entered the hospital's gleaming welcome
area. Boston Memorial was massive, a series of old brick buildings
connected with newer additions, many of them constructed in an
airy, atrium style. Darby paused a moment to admire a striking
sculpture in the foyer of the main entrance. It was a tangle of geometric shapes that reminded Darby of an angel bestowing mercy
on a patient. She wondered if anyone else would come to this interpretation, especially given that the title of the work was "Working Waterfront." She smiled and thought of Lucy and her paintings
back on the island. Perhaps some of Lucy's patrons bought her
paintings never knowing they represented a healing from pain.

The lobby was surprisingly quiet, more of a funnel to other
parts of the hospital than a waiting room. Darby located a receptionist who directed her toward the ceremony. "We all loved Dr.
Phipps," she said sadly. "Such a shame to lose a great surgeon like
him."

Darby nodded and took the elevator to the second floor. A
brightly lit corridor led to a lobby where a number of hospital staff
as well as dozens of well-dressed Bostonians were milling around, drinking orange juice. A woman turned and smiled. It was Alicia
Komolsky, flanked by two dark-haired boys in matching suits and
ties.

"Darby! You're here. I'm so glad you came." She turned to her
sons with pride. "This is Samuel, and this is Michael." Both stuck
out their hands for shaking and said in a pleasant, but automatic
way, "Pleased to meet you," while their mother looked on, beaming. She gave the boys a nod and they rushed to a table laden with
brunch items as if released from jail.

"Your boys are so much more grown-up than in the photo you
showed me on the island," said Darby.

"Oh yes," Alicia beamed. "Haven't they just grown a ton! Emerson would be amazed." She paused and managed with difficulty
to keep her emotions in check. "This ceremony is going to be so
hard," she whispered.

Darby took her hand and thought about her aunt's memorial
service, scheduled for the next day. "I know," she said. She glanced
around the room. "There sure are a lot of white coats around here."

Alicia nodded quickly and smiled, grateful for the distraction.
"Aren't there? Many are doctors who worked with Emerson here at
the hospital, and a few of them went on the Haiti trips with him."

"With Surgeons Who Serve?"

"Exactly." A tall man in a tailored suit entered the room and
Alicia brightened. "Excuse me, Darby."

"Certainly." Darby watched as Alicia hurried to the newcomer
and they greeted each other, then hugged. She saw them talk animatedly and Alicia's quick smile as she pointed out her sons to the
man.

Was this a love interest for Alicia Phipps Komolsky? Darby
found herself thinking again of Phipps' murder. Would a lover
have given Alicia any more reason to want her brother out of the
picture?

Stop it, she chided herself. She walked over to the buffet table
and selected a small serving of fruit salad and a bran muffin. Perhaps if you put something in your stomach you'll stop seeing murderers around every corner, Darby thought.

After a few moments, the ceremony began.

Several administrators from the hospital spoke about Phipps'
career and his surgical accomplishments at the hospital. A grayhaired doctor in a lab coat described an operation he and Phipps
had performed on a Haitian girl last year, and read a letter from
her mother praising Dr. Emerson Phipps. Darby saw a few of the
nurses dabbing their eyes with a tissue at the mother's gratitude.

Moments later, Alicia Phipps Komolsky stepped up to the microphone and pulled out a piece of paper.

She began by thanking everyone for coming and for honoring
her brother. She briefly mentioned his career and her pride in his
selfless devotion to medicine in the Third World. She then said she
had two announcements to make.

"First, on behalf of my brother, I would like to announce a gift
in the amount of $100,000 to the Coveside Clinic on Hurricane
Harbor in Maine." She smiled at Darby and continued. "My brother
loved this remote corner of New England and I know he would have
wanted a part of his estate to benefit the good people who live and
work on that island."

Impressed, Darby listened to the polite applause. Surely the gift
had not been Phipps' idea, but his sister's. What an act of kindness,
she thought.

Alicia Komolsky waited for the clapping to abate before continuing. "Second, I take great pride in announcing a gift in the
amount of $500,000 to Boston Memorial Hospital, earmarked for
the new spinal surgery wing. If my late brother were here, I know
he would be spearheading the campaign for this new, state-of-theart center." She paused and again the onlookers clapped appreciatively. "Finally, I would like to introduce my sons, Samuel and Michael Phipps Komolsky, who have another exciting announcement
to make."

The boys bounded to the microphone and their mother gave
them an indulgent smile. Samuel elbowed his brother for the spotlight. "One million dollars to Surgeons Who Serve!" he shouted.
The audience laughed, and then clapped. The man with whom
Alicia had been speaking looked momentarily stunned. He approached the microphone as if in a daze, introduced himself as the
president of SWS, and gave Alicia and her boys a big smile.

"I am truly overwhelmed at this generosity," he said. "We will
miss Dr. Phipps and his medical missions, but this money will
surely continue his good efforts." The onlookers clapped loudly as
the SWS president hugged Alicia and her sons.

In her head, Darby tallied up the donations. Alicia Komolsky
had just given away $1.6 million of her brother's estate.

A moment later she was at Darby's side, giggling. "That was
amazing," she said. "Giving away that much money! What a rush!"
She smiled. "Trust me, my brother is probably rolling around in his
grave.

"What do you mean?"

She blushed. "He could be generous with his skills and time,
but he hated to part with money," she said. "I look at it this way:
I'll sell his condo and car and put the proceeds in a trust for the
boys. I think that's what Emerson would have wanted. The rest of
his estate-what do I need that much money for? I'm happy already."

Darby smiled. "Philanthropy becomes you, Alicia. I'm so glad I
was here to see you make those donations."

She beamed. "Me too." Glancing toward the microphone, she
said, "The ceremony is almost over. The hospital staff adds his
name to their honor roll, something like that."