Final Settlement (28 page)

Darby thought back to her conversations with Chief Dupont and his memories of her mother, Jada Farr.
That’s what I’ll miss the most
. He’d been a bond to her family. And now that link was gone.

“I’ll heal as well,” she said softly. “I guess we all will.”

Tina and Donny approached, their arms linked. Tina’s eyes were rimmed with red and she sniffled and bit back tears.

Darby put a hand on the redhead’s shoulder and the two exchanged looks.

“Makes you realize how fragile life is,” Tina said, her voice breaking. “One day you’re here, and the next—gone.”

Darby, Miles, and Donny nodded. They were silent as Tina sobbed quietly, her thin shoulders moving under Donny’s draped arm. Suddenly she stopped. “What the—”

A streak of golden fur raced by them, headed for one of the tables laden with luncheon meats.

“Rosie!” Bitsy’s wail pierced the mourners’ quiet murmurs. “Rosie, come!”

Darby held her breath as the puppy stopped short and turned in the direction of Bitsy, who stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips. “Come!”

The dog wagged her tail and trotted to Bitsy.

“Sit!”

Rosie acquiesced. The crowd watched as Bitsy reached down and grasped the puppy’s collar. “Good dog,” she cooed, stroking its head.

Spontaneous clapping broke out as Donny rushed to help Bitsy take Rosie to another room. Bitsy blushed and gave a tiny smile. “She was Charles’s idea,” she said, to general laughter. “I just couldn’t leave her at home.” She bit her lip and wiped her eyes. “I bet he’s up there right now, chuckling away.”

Darby looked at Tina. “I can picture that so clearly, can’t you? Chief Dupont would have found this funny.”

Tina agreed. “That man had a wonderful sense of humor.” She glanced toward Donny and the puppy and shook her head. “Why the heck would anyone bring a dog to a funeral? Oh, well, I suppose anything goes nowadays.”

The mood of the room underwent a subtle change, thanks to Rosie’s intervention. Mourners were now telling stories about Charles Dupont in a lighthearted, almost celebratory, manner.

Tina pulled her friend close. “I do think it’s gonna be okay.”

Darby nodded. Miles was right—the healing had begun.

_____

Deputy Tom Allen wasn’t sure what to say when people praised him for the words he’d uttered about Chief Dupont. He’d said what was on his mind, that was all, and it felt strange to accept thanks for that. He picked up a soft finger roll, ripped it in half, and took a bite. Perhaps if he were eating, he could just wag his head and that would be enough. He wouldn’t have to talk anymore.

The words of Detective Dave Robichaud had been especially hard to hear. “I know what you meant,” he’d said, “about the Chief being your family. It was the same for me when I was your age.” Dave Robichaud had paused, looked him straight in the eye. “Growing up, I was always the one watching out for everyone. When I joined the force, someone finally cared about me.” He’d scanned the room; put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “The rest of us are here for you, Dozer.”

Deputy Allen had wanted to cringe at the use of his old nickname, but instead he’d thanked the detective and watched him lope away. Now, as he chewed on the roll and thought about Charles Dupont, he sent a silent prayer heavenward.

Rest in peace, Chief
.
Rest in peace
.

_____

Darby felt a tapping on her shoulder as she was pulling on her red coat. She turned, coming inches from the concerned face of Alison Dyer.

“I was hoping to speak with you before you left, Darby.” The older woman glanced toward Miles and lowered her voice. “Any luck on finding the person who killed that poor girl?”

“No. The only official who seems to have thought she was murdered was Chief Dupont, and now that he’s dead …” Darby paused. “I haven’t found anyone who saw anything, and there is no physical evidence. Perhaps it was an accident after all.”

The woman’s lined face grew dark. “No, Darby. It could not have been an accident! That woman knew what she was doing on that Breakwater. She didn’t fall into that water. I saw the person who pushed her, I know I did.” She scanned the crowd of mourners, just beginning to dissipate. “Chief Dupont knew it, too.”

Darby looked down at her hands. The words of Charles Dupont came back to her in a rush:
I knew that woman and I know there is no chance in hell that she slipped. We are talking about someone who did this every stinking day, in weather way worse than this. She wore the right kind of clothes for this kind of thing, heavy boots with good soles. She didn’t slip, Darby. I know that.

She glanced up. “I’ll keep looking,” she said simply.

Alison Dyer closed her eyes and nodded. “I know you will,” she said. She peered at Darby through her round glasses. “I just know it.”

Darby watched as Alison hustled away and out of the church.

“What was that all about?” Miles asked, pulling on his coat. He frowned in the direction of the retreating figure.

Darby explained. “She’s right, Miles. I owe it to Chief Dupont to figure this thing out.”

“Maybe Bartholomew Anderson will give us the answers we need,” Miles said. “Maybe he’s our guilty guy.”

Darby zipped up her red coat, her face beautiful yet determined. “If he attended the service, he’s already left. Let’s go find out.”

_____

A pink sunburn made Bartholomew Anderson’s nose and cheeks look as tender as raw beef. Darby watched him register fleeting disappointment as they entered his office, and then quickly cover it with a superficial grin.

“You’re still here,” he commented, shaking their hands. “I would have thought you’d have left this Maine weather for the West Coast by now.” His joviality was so forced that Darby wanted to laugh. Instead she raised an eyebrow.

“Speaking of weather, I take it the sun was shining in Miami?”

“Oh, yes. Lovely little getaway, but never long enough.” He put his fingers together in the shape of a tent. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“I want to thank you for your confidence in Near & Farr Realty,” Darby began. “I know Tina Ames will do a great job selling Alcott Bridges’s property.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure of that.” The portly attorney pursed his lips. “Surely you didn’t come here to tell me that?”

Miles glanced at Darby.

“We’re here about Lorraine Delvecchio.”

“Ah, yes, the girl who fell off the Breakwater. I told you, I didn’t know her …”

“She knew you, Mr. Anderson. Well enough to blackmail you.”

“What are you talking about?” He stood up and ran a hand over his thinning hair. “Blackmail? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Your name was found on a ledger in Lorraine’s home,” said Miles calmly. “She knew something about you, didn’t she?”

“That’s ludicrous! You don’t have any proof.”

“In fact, we do,” Darby said. “We have evidence that you were making payments to her …”

“Impossible! I only paid her in cash …” he stopped, put a hand to his sunburned nose, and looked stunned. “I mean …”

“Why was she blackmailing you?” Darby’s voice was insistent.

He raised his head, his face forlorn. “She took advantage of a stupid mistake.”

Miles glanced at Darby. This was what they’d been hoping for.

“She had photos,” Bartholomew Anderson said, his voice weary. “Of me and another woman. I don’t know how she got them, but she threatened to take them to my wife.”

“Unless you paid up,” Miles offered.

The attorney gave a resigned nod. He opened a file drawer and pulled out a folder, tossing it to Darby. “It doesn’t matter who it was, or that it was five years ago. Dolores would have been crushed.”

She opened the folder. Inside were several glossy full page prints of a man and woman embracing, the same images Darby had seen on the drive. She placed the photos back in the folder.

“How did you get these?”

“From Lorraine’s house. As soon as I heard she was dead, I went over there and searched for them.” He looked up. “They weren’t
even hard to find. Right in her desk, as if they were a file of recipes.” His face darkened. “You can’t imagine how difficult it was for me to see that woman every single day prancing down that pier.” He pointed out the window with a shaking hand. “I had to watch her park her car and give that smug little smile …”

He turned to face them. “I hated her, of course I did. In case you’re wondering.”

“Why didn’t you just tell your wife?” Darby asked. “These photos would have had no power if she’d known.”

“Have you ever been married, Darby?” He glanced from her to Miles. “You think things like affairs are easy in a marriage?” He shook his head. “I couldn’t tell Dolores. It would have destroyed us—our family, my career …” he gave a harsh sigh. “I have a reputation in this city. These stupid photos would have ruined me.”

“But your face isn’t even recognizable.” Darby pointed at one of the images.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Bartholomew Anderson said darkly. “They would still have shattered my life.”

There was a pause before Miles spoke again, his voice clear and firm.

“Where were you on the day Lorraine died?”

“What? You can’t think I did anything to harm her!” His face showed shock. “She fell off that Breakwater, everyone knows that.”

Darby gave the attorney a piercing gaze. “Someone pushed Lorraine Delvecchio,” she said quietly. “Another figure was seen on the Breakwater. Was it you?”

“No! You’ve got to believe me. I’m not that kind of person.”

“Then where were you?”

Darby tensed as Bartholomew Anderson opened a desk drawer and pulled something out. She pictured a heavy revolver …

He lifted an appointment book. “Wednesday? Why, I was here, at my desk, working.” He squinted. “Billed some clients by the name of Wilson, if you must know.” He closed the book with a thump, looking pleased. “There!”

“Can anyone corroborate your whereabouts?” Miles queried.

“My secretary, of course. She’s here when I’m here, naturally.”

Darby glanced at Miles. “Does she take a lunch break?”

“Of course. But I don’t see why that matters.”

“If she left at noon, she wasn’t here when Lorraine was killed. You could have seen Lorraine coming and met her at the end of the pier.”

“Are you saying that I ran out there and pushed her off? Excuse me, but I’m not exactly an Olympic athlete.” He rose to his feet as if displaying his generously proportioned physique. “Look, I did not kill that girl. I don’t think anyone did. I think she simply fell off the end of the Breakwater and drowned.” He fingered the file with the photographs. “And do you know what else I think? I think she got exactly what she deserved.”

“One more question,” Darby said. “Who is the woman in the photographs?”

The look he gave her was resigned, all the bluster seemingly gone. “Someone I met many summers ago,” he said softly. He licked his lips. “Babette Applebaum.”

Darby and Miles shared a quick glance. “Was Lorraine blackmailing her as well?”

The attorney shook his head. “No. That’s the one part of this whole sordid mess that doesn’t cause me shame. For some reason, Lorraine left her alone.”

Miles and Darby rose from their chairs, leaving the lawyer staring out the window at the Manatuck Breakwater lot.

_____

“So?” Miles asked Darby as they waited for her ferry. “Do you think he pushed that girl?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t. I think he hated Lorraine with a passion, but I just don’t see him running a mile out there, shoving her, and running back. Physically I don’t think he could have done it. What about you?”

“I agree.” He sighed. “If Lorraine didn’t know Babette, it’s unlikely she had anything to do with her murder. That leaves ‘TD’ and ‘CR’, right?”

Darby nodded. She glanced in the direction of the water and saw that the ferry was chugging into view. “You know what, Miles? It’s not easy to care about Lorraine Delvecchio’s killer. The woman was vile.”

“Even vile people deserve justice, don’t they? Besides, you aren’t doing it for her. You’re doing it because Chief Dupont asked for your help.”

“Correct.” She reached for Miles and gave him a fierce hug. “Remind me of that when you call, okay? I’m liable to lose sight of my motives here without you.”

“You won’t lose sight of anything,” Miles assured her. “Just promise me one thing: you’ll keep yourself safe.”

“I will.” She kissed him, long and hard, inhaling the bayberry scent she loved.

He grinned.

“You’ve got the next visit, remember?”

“I’m already looking forward to it.” She grabbed her pocketbook and turned to board the ferry. Overhead a gull shrieked in the cold sky. “I love you.”

He grinned again, his rugged face becoming boyish. “Ditto,” he said.

_____

Darby watched as Miles steered his rental car out of the ferry parking lot. Already she missed the tall Brit’s comforting presence, but she pushed aside her thoughts to focus on what she knew about Lorraine Delvecchio’s death.