A House to Die For (A Darby Farr Mystery) (5 page)

Tina sniffled and led Darby out of the airport to the parking
garage, where a large GMC truck gleamed in the overhead lights.
"Meet Thelma," she said, with a flourish and a brave attempt at
lightening the mood. "She's loaded with every option from heated
seats to a GPS system, and she's your aunt's pride and joy."

Darby regarded the massive vehicle. Her aunt had a penchant
for driving enormous trucks with female names. "Jane's taste in
transportation hasn't changed much in ten years," she noted. "I left
Maine in Reba, and the truck before her was Scarlet."

Tina forced a chuckle. She unlocked the doors and the two
women climbed in. She dabbed at her eyes again and gave a sad
little hiccup.

"Are you okay to drive?" Darby asked.

She nodded and started the truck.

The two women were quiet for a while and Darby suspected
that Tina was making every effort to compose herself. Finally she
took a deep breath. "I'll say this to you just once, Darby, since
you've spent seven hours flying clear across the country. Your aunt
can be a giant pain in the ass."

She glanced at Darby's surprised face and nodded.

"I mean, have you ever met someone more unbelievably opinionated, stubborn as the day is long, and vain as Jane Farr?" She
shook her head. "I've seen her call a broker a lazy son-of-a-bitch
to his face, in front of his own clients! Man, I thought that guy was
gonna sue her skinny ass." She paused. "But I'm not telling you
anything new, am I?"

"Nothing I haven't thought myself a hundred times."

"I know."

Tina pointed out the window at the grass bordering the highway. In the sweep of Thelma's headlights, Darby could just make
out the shoulders of Route 1-95, dotted with tall, spiky flowers in
shades of blue, purple, and pink.

"Loads of lupines this year"

Darby nodded. "I forgot how pretty they are."

In June, the blooms of the wildflower were everywhere, elegant
splashes of color that stretched on for miles. Darby remembered
picking lupines as she walked home from school, the way the
stems were so sturdy it was easier to yank the whole plant out of
the ground then tear them. She saw her mother's gentle smile as
she trimmed the stalks, and the careful way she arranged them in
a vase on the kitchen table, as if they were a work of art. She swallowed at the memory and her throat felt rubbed raw.

"What I'm trying to say is, I understand how you and your aunt
could have your ... differences, and I appreciate that you came anyway." She gunned the truck and passed the first vehicle they'd seen
since the airport. "The thing with your aunt, is that despite her
shortcomings, she is a hell of a woman. Her strengths outweigh
her weaknesses by far, and you can't say that about everybody. I
guess I hope you'll remember that side of her, too."

Darby looked out the window. The last person she wanted to
talk about was Jane Farr, dead or alive, but she didn't want to upset
Tina again. "Tell me about this deal," she said. "Especially tomorrow's meeting."

"You don't mean the planning board?" Tina snorted. "That's a
formality."

"It's a condition of the property sale, is what it is."

Tina sniffed. "Well, in my opinion, it's no big deal. Peyton's got
to get approval to do her resort the way she wants. The land is zoned
residential single family, and she wants to put little cottages up, plus
use it in a more commercial way. And she needs to serve booze, naturally. Who ever heard of a wedding without champagne?"

"Jane did her homework before she got sick, though. She spoke
to all of the committee members and they all support the project.
No one anticipates anything but the board's good wishes and the
permit."

Darby smiled grimly. She'd heard that kind of talk before. "So
you've met the buyer?"

Tina nodded. "Peyton Mayerson's in her late thirties, from Boston, working with a small group of investors to create this wedding destination resort. You know, people from New York and
Boston book the whole damn place, have their wedding, take their
sails on the bay, yuck it up at their posh lobster bakes-it's really
catching on in Maine. Seems everybody and his brother want to
get married on the rocky coast and have what they think's a real
authentic experience. The ministers can't even keep up with it."
She snorted. "Most people I know get a bun in the oven, then go
to the JP. None of this croquet on the lawn and tents set up on the
grass" She swerved to avoid a dead animal in the road. "You know
the Trimbles, right?"

"Mark helped my father run the sailing program at the yacht
club. He's older than me, but we know one another. Lucy and I
were friends for several years. I never really got to know Mr. and
Mrs. Trimble."

Tina waved a manicured hand. "No matter. They're long gone,
and so's the big brother-Wes, I think he was called? Anyway, it's just Mark and Lucy and they've been very easy clients. Jane would
tell them to do something-bam!-they got it done. Fix this, paint
that, whatever, they'd get somebody to take care of it. Neither one
seems to have too much attachment to the old place, and it's been
years since they lived there. Mark, especially, seemed relieved that
the place is selling so soon. Who wants to keep taking care of a big
empty house?" she sniffed. "If you ask me, I don't think Fairview
was a very happy home."

Tina's cell rang and Darby watched her keep one hand on the
truck's steering wheel while she fished around in the turquoise
pocketbook for her phone. "We're on our way," she said. "We'll be
there before eleven." When she snapped her phone shut, Darby saw
that her pointy face was puckered with worry.

"That was the minister of the church your aunt goes to, you
know, the one on the corner?"

Darby nodded. Jane had moved to Hurricane Harbor and become immersed in the little village church with a fervor Darby always suspected had more to do with listings than religion. Tina
cleared her throat.

"She wants us to stop at the hospital in Manatuck. She thinks
your aunt won't make it through the night." She looked at Darby
with concern. "You think you can handle it?"

Darby shrugged. "What about you?"

"I don't know. I guess we'll find out."

Darby dozed for ten minutes or so, her mind darting into worrisome corners like a wild animal trapped in an abandoned cabin.
She saw Mark and Lucy Trimble, Jane Farr, and the house she'd
grown up in. Her parents were there too, smiling and reaching out
their hands to hug her ...

She woke with a start. Tina was parking the car at a large brick
building that Darby recognized as Manatuck Community Hospital.

"We're going across in half an hour, so we don't have much
time."

Darby stretched and followed Tina Ames across the parking lot
and into the hospital. The lobby was well lit, with a large screen
television and plenty of chairs, some of which, even at this late
hour, were filled with waiting patients and family members.

A slim, petite woman with short frosted hair was waiting by
the front desk. She gave Tina a smile of recognition.

"That's her," said Tina. "The minister of the church."

"Actually I'm the associate minister," the woman corrected,
coming toward them. She proffered her hand. "I'm Laura Gefferelli. Your aunt has told me about you. I'm sorry you have to come
back to Hurricane Harbor under such difficult conditions."

Darby shook the woman's hand. "Thanks."

Laura glanced at Tina and continued. "They've moved Jane
over to a hospice room. They've got her on drip morphine so she's
in no pain."

The three walked down a corridor and into another wing of
the hospital. Laura waved to several of the nurses; she was obviously a frequent visitor to the hospice wing. Minutes later she was
opening the door of a quiet, dimly lit room with carpeting, an upholstered couch, and several paintings. In the middle of the room
was a hospital bed upon which a frail woman lay sleeping.

Darby moved nearer and gazed down at the face that had once
been so terrifying.

Age had softened her aunt's features, the way water wears down
the jagged rocks in a stream. Her hair, formerly jet black and se verely styled, was now dove gray and cut in a soft bob. Her eyes
were closed and she appeared to be breathing easily.

Darby reached out and touched her aunt's shoulder. She felt
the hard knob of bone beneath the thin sheets. Somewhere in that
mind are all the times we spent in opposition, all the battles we waged
and the insults we flung.

"Tell me what happened."

Laura Gefferelli nodded. "Jane was having transient ischemic
attacks-they call them TIAs, or mini-strokes-and realized something was wrong. Dr. Carver, the neurosurgeon at Manatuck, did
a CT scan and found the tumor. He recommended surgery, pretty
much immediately. Jane got a second opinion down in Portland,
and that physician concurred. This was last week, right Tina?"

Tina nodded.

"Yesterday, I stopped in to check on Jane," Laura continued.
"She was prostrate on the floor with an excruciating headache. I
brought her here and had them page Dr. Carver. An hour later, she
was in the operating room. Dr. Carver believes the surgery relieved
most of the pressure, but Jane hasn't regained consciousness. We're
just hoping that she's strong enough to recover." She paused. "Personally, I believe she is heading toward a very peaceful death. She's
in no pain. She's just slipping slowly away."

Tina made a small strangled sound. Tears ran down her face,
streaking her mascara so that she looked like a sad clown.

"You have been such a good friend to her," Laura Gefferelli said
softly, touching Tina on the arm. "Your friendship meant so much
to Jane. She told me before the operation that she could always
count on you, no matter what. You were like family."

Darby felt a coldness wash over her. Is that what Jane Farr had
said? That you could count on family? She felt a rolling sensation
in her gut. Where was her support when I needed my family the
most?

Oblivious to the two grieving women, Darby backed away
from her aunt and her painful past. Across the sleeping patient,
Tina sniffed and sighed, taking Darby's movement as a signal that
it was time to leave. "You're right, Darby," she nodded. "We'd better
go get our boat."

The gray-shingled building that served as the state's ferry terminal
was a trim structure surrounded by a white picket fence and neatly
mowed lawn. As she steered the truck into line for the ferry, Tina
explained that the old terminal had burned five summers earlier
during a severe thunderstorm. "Your aunt gave some money to the
new building fund. Her name's on a granite marker over on the
water side."

"It's almost 11:30," Darby noted. "Surely there isn't a ferry at
this time of night?"

Tina nodded. "Yep. That was part of the deal Jane made when
she gave the money. Weekend ferries at one A.M., so that islanders
can party on the mainland, go to the movies, whatever, and still
get home. Sunday through Thursday, the last one's at 11:30," Tina
grinned. "Kinda made her a hero, making negotiations like that."

Darby glanced at the building her aunt had helped create.
The little parking lot was well lit, and Darby thought she saw two
people holding signs.

"That couple over there-they can't be protestors?"

Tina parked the truck and yanked her keys out of the ignition.
"They're picketing, all right. The state wants to put a bridge here,
some huge thing like they did over in Canada, you know, to Prince
Edward Island? The vote's not for a couple of months, but people
are pretty upset already. They've got petitions and whatnot, a citizen's group, you name it." She reached for the turquoise pocketbook and slung it over her shoulder.

"I'm goin' to grab our tickets and a Diet Coke. You want anything?"

"Just the bathroom."

"Back of the building," Tina slammed the truck door. "Unisex,
but a sorry sight better than one of those port-o-pottys, which
is, if you remember, what used to be here." She began strutting
toward the picket fence, her heels clicking against the parking lot
like the hooves of a deer. Darby saw the protesters try to hand her
something but she waved them away and kept walking.

The night air held the tang of the Atlantic, a musky, sharp scent
that seemed more intense than it did on the West Coast. Overhead
a gull cried, his body glowing white against the stars. Darby walked
across the parking lot, feeling the salty air on her face. In the faint
glow of the parking lot's lights, she noticed more lupines blooming
against the back of the building, their pastel shades luminescent in
the moonlight.

Darby opened the bathroom door and stepped inside. It was
dark, without the benefit of the overhead lamps outside, and Darby's eyes strained to adjust to the dimness. The heavy door shut
with a bang. She ran a hand down the cool surface of the wall,
hunting for the light switch, and heard a small sound like an animal exhaling ...