Final Settlement (23 page)

“I’m not trying to hire you, although I understand that you’re a good agent. I wanted to ask you some questions.”

“Look, I need to know what this is about. I’ve got a lot going on …”

“Okay.” Darby had wanted to speak to Babette face-to-face, but she was running the risk of alienating the woman, so she posed her question. “Did you know Lorraine Delvecchio?”

“The Breakwater accident victim? No. I mean, I recognized her face when I saw the picture, but I didn’t know her.” Her voice had the ring of sincerity. Unless she was an accomplished liar, it sounded as if Babette Applebaum was telling the truth.

In the background a child’s shriek preceded a bout of loud crying.

“I’ve got to go. My kid’s just knocked something off the counter.” Darby could hear her yelling to the child and then the click as the receiver went dead.

“Well?” Miles Porter held several logs that he stacked by the blazing fire. “Did you find anything out?”

“I don’t know. She said she didn’t know Lorraine, and I believed her.”

“So that leaves our friend Bart. Do you have a cell phone number for him?”

“Yes … what are you thinking?”

“Never you mind. Let me have the number.” Miles waited while Darby found the listing information for Alcott Bridges’ house and handed him Bartholomew Anderson’s number. He punched it in
and listened intently. A moment later his face hardened. “Mr. Anderson? Why yes, hello, this is Mr. Porter calling on behalf of Lorraine Delvecchio. We are compiling a list of Ms. Delvecchio’s friends and relatives …” He stopped, obviously interrupted mid-sentence. “Oh, I see. Well that’s odd because she has you on a list that we found in her desk.” He waited, saying nothing else for a few beats. “Yes, yes, let me write that down. Quarry Landing, you say? In Manatuck. Thank you very much, sir.” He hung up and gave Darby a triumphant smile.

“So?”

“So, I’d say that your Mr. Anderson is not telling the truth. He does know Lorraine Delvecchio. When I mentioned a list with his name on it you could practically hear the wheels in his head turn. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s our ‘AB’ set of initials.”

She frowned. “But is he our killer, Miles? And if so, has he just disappeared for good?” She blew air out of her mouth. “I’m calling Chief Dupont. He needs to know what we’re thinking.”

_____

Bitsy answered the phone with a languid hello. The clipped voice of Darby Farr apologized for interrupting her Sunday afternoon, and then asked for Charles.

“He’s not here, Darby,” Bitsy explained. “Went off on some mission with the Manatuck Police Department. I can have him call you when he gets back.”

There was a pause at the other end. “Yes, if you could have him call me. Meanwhile, I’ll see if he answers his cell phone.”

“I doubt that. I get the feeling it was some sort of operation, if you know what I mean. Like a stakeout.”

“Here on Hurricane Harbor?” The real estate agent’s voice was incredulous. “That’s odd.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll speak to him when he comes back, then. Thank you, Bitsy.”

Bitsy hung up the phone and padded in her pink slippers to the kitchen, Rosie trotting along behind her.
I want a glass of wine,
she thought. Just to take the edge off the anxiety she was feeling around Charles’s departure.
He’s a cop,
she reminded herself.
This is what cops do.
And yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was in some sort of danger.

When the knock on the door came an hour later, rousing the puppy from a nap on its corduroy dog bed, Bitsy had found and devoured half a bag of chocolate morsels. Even if she had discovered something stronger, it wouldn’t have helped to dull the pain from the devastating news she’d been dreading all day.

TWELVE

D
ONNY
P
EASE MADE THE
phone call to Darby Farr with shaking hands. Tina was in the bedroom of their suite at the Halifax Inn, crying her eyes out as she jammed items into suitcases. Bitsy had phoned him, almost incoherent with grief, and he’d told her to sit still, that someone would be over to keep her company.

That someone had to be Darby.

The phone rang for several seconds and Donny nearly despaired, but a moment later he heard her voice, calm and competent as always.

“Chief Dupont is dead.” He hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but sometimes the best way to deliver bad news was to put it out there without any sugar coating.

“God, no.” He heard the intake of breath on the other end. “What happened?”

“Shot in the head by a drug addict. He died instantly.” Donny’s voice quavered and he had to reach for the hotel’s desk for support.

“Unbelievable.”

It was unbelievable, Darby was right, and yet, damn it all, the news was also true. Deputy Tom Allen and Manatuck’s Chief of Police had been to see Bitsy, delivered the awful facts, and were still with her now for all Donny knew.

“Bitsy needs someone. She’s hurting pretty bad. Can you—?”

“Absolutely.” She drew a deep breath. “Miles and I will head over there right now.”

He sighed. “Tina’s packing. We’re leaving tonight. Call us if you get any more details.”

“I will.” Darby’s voice was steady. She was once more in control. “Please, Donny, you and Tina drive carefully, okay?”

“I’ll get Tina back to Hurricane Harbor safe and sound.”

He hung up the phone, squared his shoulders, and went to console his wife.

_____

Miles and Darby were surprised to see several cars in the driveway of Chief Dupont’s ranch. “Word is out,” muttered Miles, his boots crunching on the now-hardening snow. He put an arm around Darby. “You okay?”

She nodded, relieved to feel him close. “Thanks for being here, Miles.”

He squeezed her gently in response. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re not alone.”

They opened the door, feeling a warm blast of air as they entered the foyer. There was the sound of voices murmuring and over that, a woman’s soft crying. Darby saw several women seated around Bitsy, as well as a trio of men, two of them in uniform. She smelled the dark aroma of coffee.

Miles helped her out of her red coat and placed it on a nearby chair. He took her hand in his and they walked into the room.

Bitsy looked up with a tear-stained face.

“Darby,” she said, rising on unsteady feet. “It’s just so horrible.”

Darby reached out and hugged Bitsy, feeling tears welling in her own eyes. She let them fall as they embraced.

“I’m so sorry, Bitsy. He was such a good man.”

The blonde woman waggled her head, her spiky hair bobbing up and down. “He was wonderful. Why I ever left him, I’ll never know. I came back here to make it up to him, and now …” She sobbed softly, her shoulders heaving.

Darby saw two women on the couch share sympathetic looks. They each clutched coffee cups, and one of them had a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies on the table before her. As Darby comforted Bitsy, she watched a small puppy emerge from the kitchen, run to the table, and knock the plate of cookies to the floor.

“Rosie, no!” Bitsy squealed, pulling away from Darby. The other women hurried to scoop up the cookies before the furry golden pup could wolf them down.

Bitsy held the little creature by a thin red collar. “No, no,” she said softly. An instant later she had picked the puppy up and was burying her face in its coat.

“Charles and I just picked her out today,” she said, her voice muffled by the fur. “We had so much fun looking at all the shelter dogs and settling on this little one. Charles was so excited to find a puppy, and one that was part retriever like our old dog, Aggie.”

“She’s adorable,” Darby said, reaching out to stroke the dog. It seemed good that Bitsy was talking. “You got her in Manatuck?”

Bitsy bobbed her head. “We went over there after breakfast. First Charles had to see someone at the jail of all places, and then we went over to the pound.”

A tall man wearing a sweater and pants appeared beside Bitsy. “How are you holding up, Mrs. Dupont?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.” Turning to Darby, Bitsy introduced the man as Detective Robichaud from Manatuck. “This is Darby Farr. She was a good friend of Charles’s.”

“I’m Dave,” he said, “and I’m sorry for your loss. Charles was a great guy and a heck of a good policeman.”

Darby nodded. Detective Robichaud was clean-shaven, with neatly cut dark hair and a powerfully built body. “You were with Chief Dupont …?” She couldn’t quite complete the sentence.

He glanced in Bitsy’s direction. “I was. I’ve explained to Mrs. Dupont that we were working together to arrest a suspect here on the island. The guy took us completely by surprise and fired shots. I returned fire, but not before Chief Dupont was hit.”

Bitsy’s eyes had grown glassy and she sank onto the couch where the women consoled her. Darby lowered her voice. “Did he die instantly?”

Robichaud gave a slow nod. “Yes.”

Darby’s head dropped. She didn’t want to believe it; and yet the truth was sinking in. Charles Dupont was dead.

Miles appeared with a mug of coffee and handed it to Darby. She looked up, her eyes brimming.

Detective Robichaud introduced himself to Miles. The men waited quietly while Darby sipped the coffee and regained her composure.

After a few moments she spoke again.

“Detective Robichaud was just telling me how it happened,” she told Miles. “He and the Chief had gone to arrest a suspect and they were taken by surprise.”

“Was it just the two of you?” Miles asked.

“No,” the detective said gravely. “Detective Paulsen from my department was at the back of the house, guarding that exit. He heard the whole thing, but couldn’t help us out until it was too late.”

Darby sighed. “Thank you for the explanation. It helps to know exactly what happened. I’m glad you weren’t injured as well.”

He gave a sad smile. “Thank you. And now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see how Chief Dupont’s deputy is doing.”

_____

Donny drove steadily through the dark afternoon. While Tina slept on the seat beside him, he watched the road, noting how the white farmhouses nearly blended into the snowy landscape, save for their tall red barns. He saw Christmas lights still adorning some town centers, and the sweep of crow’s wings against the high banks. He thought about Chief Charles Dupont, a man he’d known his whole life, and about how crazy it was to think that he was now dead. He thought about Bitsy, about the way she had disappeared so long ago, and about the Chief’s ability to accept her back.

That said a lot about the man, Donny thought. The Chief had been willing to forgive.

Forgiving wasn’t the same as forgetting, Donny knew, although an awful lot of folks confused the two. If you could make yourself forget things, well then why not forgive? It was the pain of remembering that made forgiveness an almost extraordinary act. The fact that you would remember the injustice—the one you loved abandoning you and your children for more than a decade—and yet still chose to grant pardon.

And now it was up to the rest of the island to follow the Chief’s example and show Bitsy compassion. She was a widow. Her plans for a life with Charles Dupont had been brutally dashed. If she chose to stay on Hurricane Harbor, she would need care and support.

He glanced over at his slumbering bride. “Be nice to Bitsy,” he whispered. “She’s gonna need all the help she can get.”

A soft snore escaped Tina’s lips and Donny Pease had to smile.
Well, that was something, anyway
. Not quite a yes, but he’d take it.

_____

Darby and Miles carried coffee cups and plates from Bitsy’s living room into the kitchen, loading them into the dishwasher and putting leftover food in the refrigerator. Chief Dupont’s adult children had arrived and were talking with Bitsy.

Darby didn’t want to interrupt the grieving family, but Bitsy looked up as she and Miles were putting on their coats and hurried over.

“Thank you for coming, Darby,” Bitsy said. She ran a hand through her disheveled blonde hair. “You and Miles are so helpful, and I just want you to know how much I appreciate that you were here to keep me company.”

Darby zipped her coat. “We’re close by if you need us.” She gently squeezed the other woman’s arm. “You get some rest, okay?”

“I’ll try.” She made a brave attempt at a smile. “This morning we had breakfast together, and now he’s gone …” She wiped her eyes. Suddenly her face hardened. “I wish he’d never gotten that call.”

“Which call?” Miles’s voice was gentle.

“The one for the stakeout. I told him not to go.”

Darby heard the bitterness in Bitsy’s tone. “When was this?”

“When we left the Manatuck jail.” She sighed. “We went over there to talk to a man named Marcus. It was something about the woman who used to work for Charles.”

Darby shot a look at Miles. “Lorraine Delvecchio?”

Bitsy nodded. “The one who slipped off the Breakwater.”