Final Settlement (4 page)

Tina Ames lifted her mug of tea, sending the scents of clove and orange floating toward Darby. “Poor Donny is what I say.” She took a sip of the steaming liquid and shook her head. “I swear—that guy’s got the absolute worst luck when it comes to finding bodies.”

Darby felt a twinge of something akin to excitement. She cradled her mug, feeling the warmth of the liquid radiating through the ceramic.
A dead body in the harbor.
Suddenly her visit back to Maine seemed a lot more interesting.

_____

Every inch of the old farmhouse held a memory for Darby. The soapstone sink where she now rinsed the mugs was the same place Jada Farr had stood, night after night, washing the family’s supper dishes. The scent of smoke from the living room fireplace, the hiss of the logs as they burned in the grate—these simple things stirred her senses in a way that was comforting and familiar. She dried her hands on a dishtowel, feeling as if she were in some sort of dream. Tina had departed in her tricked-out SUV and Darby was alone with her past.

The ring of her phone jarred her back to the present and she glanced at the display. A local call.

“Darby?” The voice was gruff. “It’s Charles Dupont. I heard you were on the island.” He hesitated. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks, Chief. What’s up?”

“I’d like to discuss a couple of things, if you’ve got time.”

“Definitely.”

“First, I need to list my house, and I’m hoping that Near & Farr Realty will be interested.”

“Tina Ames will be thrilled, I’m sure. She’s taking all the new listings but I can work with her while I’m here to get it underway.” She wondered at his plans but didn’t ask.

“Good.” He paused. “The second thing is kind of tricky. Did you by any chance hear about what happened to Lorraine Delvecchio? Your classmate from Hurricane High?”

“Tina told me as soon as I arrived. I’m sorry, Chief. I know she worked for you.”

“Yeah. She left me last month for a position with the Manatuck department. No hard feelings or anything, in fact I recommended her for the job. I knew she was sick of taking the ferry back and forth all the time. She lived in Manatuck, and I guess she decided after all these years that it made sense for her to work there, too.”

“I see.” Darby wasn’t sure why Chief Dupont had called to talk about his former employee, but she knew from dealing with her California clients that sometimes people just needed a listening ear.

A few seconds passed before the Chief resumed speaking. When he did, his voice took on a more urgent tone. “Listen, can I come by for a quick visit? I need to run something by you.”

“Sure. I’m at my parents’ old house, on the cove.”

“You don’t need to tell me where it is, Darby. I’ll be right there.”

_____

Donny Pease logged on to the computer, the spanking new one that was reserved for patrons of the Hurricane Harbor Library, and typed in the address he’d long ago memorized. An image popped up and he leaned back, a sigh of contentment escaping his lips.

There she was.
He gazed in dazed satisfaction at her welcoming features, the perfect white sand in the background, the palm trees shading her front.
Beach Lady.
Was she still available? Or had he waited too long? The familiar stab of panic struck him with such force he almost gasped.

With trembling fingers he dialed the number on the screen, keeping his cell phone hidden so the librarian wouldn’t see. A man answered, and Donny voiced his fear.

“Still available?” The guy had a slight southern accent. “Sure, you can get Beach Lady for the whole month of March, if you want. I’ll put down your name. Just send me a deposit within a day or two and she’s yours.”

Donny hung up and gazed at Beach Lady. He ran a hand through his sparse gray hair. He knew Tina would think this was just a reaction to finding Lorraine’s body, but hell, he didn’t care. He wanted what he saw on the screen and all that she promised, dammit, whether his new wife agreed or not.

_____

A rap on the farmhouse’s side door brought Darby back into the cozy kitchen. She opened the weathered door, expecting the bulky figure of Charles Dupont, and exclaimed in surprise at the man before her.

“Chief, you’re a shadow of yourself! Come on in.”

He gave a sheepish smile and entered the kitchen, stomping his boots as Darby closed the door behind him.

“Yeah, I went on a diet after you left the island. Damn thing worked and I had to go and buy all new clothes.” He shrugged. “Think I just may be feeling the cold a little more this winter, without all that extra insulation I was carting around.”

Darby pointed at the coffee machine.

“Cup of coffee? I can brew some. Or I have tea.”

“Nah, I’m fine.” He pulled off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. “I can still see her here, you know that? Standing there at the sink with her checkered apron …” He noted Darby’s demeanor and narrowed his eyes. “You don’t like it when I mention your mother.”

“It isn’t that.”

“What is it then?”

She paused. Chief Dupont had hinted about some sort of relationship during Darby’s last visit.
What did he mean to my mother? Do I really want to know?

“I never knew that you and she were …”

“Friends. That’s all it was, Darby. I may have wanted it to be more, but Jada wasn’t like that. Besides, she was head over heels for your father.” He sighed. “You resemble her so much. Your face … the way you walk …”

Darby tucked her glossy hair behind an ear. “Thanks.” She waved a hand around the kitchen, taking in the old-fashioned cupboards with their chipped paint, and the faded floral wallpaper above the sink. “She spent a lot of time in here, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah. Making wonderful French dishes. Remember those delicate pies with the slices of apple?”

She nodded. “
Tarte aux Pommes
.”

“I suppose it wasn’t good for my waistline, but I did love your mother’s cooking.” A few seconds passed and the Chief cleared his throat. “Well. You’re here for the big Valentine’s Day shindig, eh? Tina and Donny, tying the knot?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Miles coming out?”

Darby gave a quick nod. “For a few days.” She felt her face color at the very thought of the handsome Miles Porter, an investigative journalist who ’ d become more than just a friend. “I’m also going to do some work while I’m here. Paint a room, replace some furniture, that kind of thing.”

“You thinking of coming back here to live?”

“No. I’m going to rent the house seasonally. That way I can reserve myself a week or two in the summer.”

“Smart idea, but then you always had your thinking cap on, Darby Farr.” He slid a file folder across the table. “Speaking of houses, I brought along some information on mine for you and Tina. I’m still cleaning it out, so I don’t want her to worry about it until after the wedding. Those two taking a trip anywhere?”

“Not that I know of,” said Darby. “Tina’s focused on the business, but I’m trying to encourage her to live a little, too.”

The Chief nodded. “I hear you on that one.” His tone seemed to indicate there was more to the simple statement than he was letting on. He lifted his eyes, gave her a direct look. “Darby, in addition to getting my house listed, I need a favor.”

“I’m happy to help if I can.”

“That’s nice of you to say, especially when you don’t know what I’m going to ask.” He paused. “It has to do with Lorraine Delvecchio’s death.”

Darby’s senses sharpened. “Yes?”

“I don’t know if you knew her habits, but Lorraine was a devoted walker, and I mean devoted. Every day on her lunch hour, she drove over to the Manatuck Breakwater and walked to the end and back. I’m talking every single day, rain or shine, whether she felt terrific or lousy. She did it when she worked for me, and she did it when she transferred to the Manatuck department. Heck, I bet she even did it when she worked for old Dr. Hotchkiss.”

“And I take it she had walked the Breakwater yesterday, as well?”

“Her Subaru was found in the lot, and her colleagues at the station confirmed she’d stuck to her routine. Incidentally, at least a few of them think she was nuts.”

“Did you?”

“What, think Lorraine was nuts?” He shook his head. “No. She was obsessive, but not crazy. She had her reasons for doing that daily walk.” He looked around the kitchen as if thinking about his words. “I’m finding it hard to believe that she walked those rocks for the last time yesterday. Even though I have told so many people throughout my career that their friends and loved ones were dead, when it happens to you, it’s different, you know?”

Darby nodded. She saw him glance to the side, obviously troubled by his former employee’s demise.

He shifted in his chair. “The Manatuck police are saying that Lorraine slipped on the icy rocks at the end of the Breakwater and drowned. Her body sank, and then drifted with the outgoing tide, snagging on one of Carlene Ross’s trap lines.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “That’s what they’re saying.”

“Were the injuries on her body consistent with their theory?”

He shrugged. “I guess so. I can’t go muscling in there to take a look myself, but the state medical examiner will inspect the body, probably later on today.”

“But you aren’t happy with what the Manatuck police have concluded.”

He raised his eyes and met Darby’s face. “No, I’m not satisfied at all. I knew that woman and I know there is no chance in hell that she slipped. We’re talking about someone who did this every stinking day, in weather way worse than this. She wore the right kind of clothes, heavy boots with good soles. She didn’t slip, Darby. I know that. It’s ridiculous to even suggest it.”

“Could she have jumped?”

He shook his head. “Not Lorraine. She was not suicidal, not in the least.”

Darby made her voice gentle. “Things could have changed since she worked for you, Chief. Even in just a month. Perhaps she wasn’t the same person that you knew …”

“I saw her on Monday at the supermarket! We chatted at the deli counter for Chrissake. She was fine. Listen, Lorraine Delvecchio was not a depressed person.”

“So you’re saying she was pushed?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. Someone took that walk with her and gave her a shove at the end. That water was so cold she didn’t have a chance. She drowned, got snagged on the line, and that was it.”

Darby imagined the shock of the icy cold water and shivered. “Do you have any idea why anyone would try to kill Lorraine?”

The Chief looked away for a moment, and then back at Darby. “I might. I want to flesh it out first.”

“Where do I come in?”

“I need you to do some sniffing around for me. I can’t exactly do any investigating myself, because it would look like I’m questioning the Manatuck department’s findings. But if you helped me …”

“I could talk to potential witnesses; maybe find out who was with her.”

“Exactly.” He looked down at his hands. “You don’t need to believe what I’ve said, but if you can ask some questions …”

Darby put her hand on Chief Dupont’s beefy one. “I’ll be honest with you, Chief. I didn’t know Lorraine, and what little I saw of her I didn’t like.”

He raised a haggard face. The lines worn by time were more visible now that he was thinner. “Yeah, I know. She wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy.”

“Still, I’m having a hard time thinking someone hated her enough to want her dead.”

He nodded. “I agree. But nothing else makes sense.”

Questions raced through Darby’s mind. Had someone pushed Lorraine Delvecchio off the Manatuck Breakwater? Was any of the Chief’s reasoning correct? She didn’t have the answers, and yet it didn’t matter at this point. A friend was asking for a favor. That was the real issue.

Not to mention,
said a little voice in Darby’s head,
you’re intrigued by the possibility of a murder.

She ran a finger along the table, considering Charles Dupont’s request. He’d been kind to her parents, especially her mother, and had helped during Darby’s last visit to the island. She wondered whether he was nearing retirement as Hurricane Harbor’s Chief of Police. As if reading her mind, her companion raised the subject himself.

“I’m sixty-four, Darby, and this is my last year in law enforcement. I’m hoping I can sell my house, retire someplace warm, and get out of this cold once and for all.” He paused and she heard emotion thickening his words. “But first I need to know who in God’s good name killed Lorraine.”

THREE

T
HE ELDERLY MAN GULPED
the shot of whiskey, feeling the burn as it rushed down his throat. The familiar warming sensation spread from his gut and he sighed. He put the glass on the kitchen counter, shivering, wishing the chill of being outdoors would leave his body.

He shuffled through the living room, cluttered with newspapers, magazines, and a large upright piano, toward the bathroom and the antique clawfoot tub. A bath, that’s what he needed. A hot soak to melt the coldness that had permeated every pore. Alcott Bridges leaned over the tub’s chipped porcelain and turned on the water.