A House to Die For (A Darby Farr Mystery) Read Online Free PDF Page A

wedding photos, perhaps even take their vows.

    A glossy four-color photograph caught Darby's eye. It was an
advertisement for Fairview, and penciled in the margin were the
two publications in which it had run: the New York Times and Boston Magazine. Pretty pricey advertisements, Darby knew, but demographically perfect for a buyer of this ilk. Darby regarded the
photograph with a critical eye. She saw a magnificent structure,
with eight bedrooms, a giant wraparound porch filled with wicker
rocking chairs, and several jutting eaves. Fair-view's symmetry and
design were truly unparalleled.
    Darby recalled what she knew of the property's history. Built
in the style of the sprawling, shingle-style mansions of the turn
of the century, the house was the residence of a notoriously cantankerous steel baron from Pittsburgh, the great-grandfather of
Lucy and Mark's mother. According to local legend, the gentleman
was asked by a Pittsburgh newspaper reporter to describe the view
from his dwelling's huge porch. Looking out upon the crashing
surf and massive boulders, a sight that anyone would find divine,
the man waved a dismissive hand and pronounced the view "fair."
Or so the story claimed.
    Darby remembered the home's high ceilings, ornate ballroom,
and sweeping main staircase. Fairview was a gem, and Jane Farr
had marketed it as such. No one who sees Fairview forgets her, read
the advertisement on her lap. Darby had to admit that her aunt's
sappy copy was probably dead on.
    She glanced over the property description detailed in the listing
packet. A multitude of outbuildings dotted the property's twenty acres, and all of them were conveyed with the sale. A guesthouse,
gardening cottage, garage, and caretaker's house, along with a fanciful gazebo, were listed as part of the property inventory. Darby
found a release from the buyer concerning the condition of the
entire property. It seemed all of the buildings had been scrutinized
by Pemberton Point Weddings' team of building inspectors and
deemed satisfactory.

    Darby gathered up the papers. She was still drowsy, but now
that she'd done her homework, sleep was an appealing option. As
she tried to slip the papers into the envelope, she met with resistance. Something was stuck at the bottom.
    Reaching in, her fingers touched a piece of paper. It was an index
card, three by five inches, without lines. In handwriting Darby recognized as belonging to her aunt was scrawled a single line: Subject
to planning board approval for zoning change and liquor license by
6/21. The sentence was initialed by "PM," "MT;" and "LT."
    Darby frowned. The index card appeared to be an amendment
to the contract, although it was a highly unusual and sloppy one.
What could her aunt have been thinking, using such vague language? An index card? And yet Darby knew of multimillion dollar
deals that had been scribbled on paper napkins ...
    She looked back at the purchase and sale agreement, but saw
no reference to a planning board meeting. Apparently this little
scrap of paper represented an unmet condition to the contract. A
planning board meeting on the twenty-first of June. That's tomorrow, she realized with a shock.
    The transaction was not quite a "done deal" as Tina had said.
The zoning change was no doubt to modify the current residential
status of Pemberton Point to commercial, since Pemberton Point Weddings was to be more than just a home business. Certainly a
liquor license was a key component in Peyton Mayerson's plans to
host elaborate and expensive weddings. Darby knew that, although
a few towns in Maine were still "dry"-meaning alcoholic beverages could not be sold within the city limits-Hurricane Harbor
was not one of them. Generations of cocktail parties, dances, and
wild nights at the town's bar had seen to that.

    Nevertheless, the successful sale of Fairview was now contingent upon the common sense of a group of volunteers, serving on
a town committee that