Free 5 Deal Killer by Vicki Doudera

fixed up, and then sold a number of coastal properties. By the mid-eighties, he’d started his own real estate firm, and within a decade, grown it to be one of Maine’s most profitable brokerages.
    But that hadn’t satisfied Stockton. By now a very big fish in a small pond, the entrepreneur now turned his sights on New York. He’d launched a start-up brokerage just before Hurricane Sandy hit the east coast, and positioned the company to help rebuild in its wake. His uncanny ability to find talented professionals to join him was working, and the Stockton Group was already a major player in many of New York’s most lucrative deals.
    Darby called his number and heard a deep voice answer.
    “Stockton here.”
    She explained how they had met a few months earlier and Todd Stockton gave a chuckle.
    “Of course I remember you, Ms. Farr. I don’t think anyone who meets you would ever forget.”
    So he’s a flatterer. Darby rolled her eyes. “I don’t know about that, but I did want to speak to you about a real estate client and his needs.”
    She could feel Stockton’s focus sharpen over the airwaves. “Go on, please.”
    She described what Hideki Kobayashi wanted, without mentioning his name, and waited to see what Stockton would say.
    “I’m going to send you several options right now, Ms. Farr, any one of which we can see on Sunday.” He asked a few more questions and Darby answered. “And our arrangement?”
    “A fifty percent referral,” she answered. It was more than the standard—she knew that—but what the heck.
    “Fine. I’ll send along an agreement as well. Shall we plan to meet at eleven o’clock on Sunday, or earlier?”
    “That will be fine. Let me know where and my client and I will be there.”
    She looked around the park and smiled. This was going to be fun.
    A dark-haired young woman with a stroller stopped at Darby’s bench.
    “Excuse me, but are you a friend of the man in nine-thirty?”
    “Yes,” said Darby, recognizing the number of Charles Burrows’s apartment.
    “I’m Gina Trovata,” she said, kneeling to check on the two children in the stroller. Deciding that they were fine, at least for the moment, she continued. “I work in the building, so I’m in and out of there a lot. I take care of Sherry and Penn Cooper’s kids.” As if on cue, the littlest Cooper let out a long sound that might have been a sigh.
    “You’re their nanny?” Darby asked.
    “Yes—weekday mornings, although today I’m working until five.” She checked her watch. “Anyway, I wondered if you’d mention to your friend—the man—”
    “His name is Miles. Miles Porter.”
    “Okay then, Miles. Please tell him I’m opening a vintage clothing store, sometime soon, and if he has any sweaters or jackets he’d like us to sell, I’d love to know.” She rummaged in a pocket and handed Darby a business card.
    Darby looked up at Gina and chuckled. “You mean to tell me that Miles is a trendy dresser?” She thought back to his tweedy jacket and Irish knit sweater. “I guess I hadn’t noticed.”
    “I don’t know his whole wardrobe, but yes, he seems to like the classics.” She bent down to pick up a toy that one of the boys had tossed from the stroller. “The natives are getting restless—I’d better keep walking.”
    Darby stood and introduced herself. “I’m here for a visit. It’s nice to meet you, Gina, and good luck with your new shop.”
    “Thanks.” She pushed the stroller and grinned. “I can’t wait.”
    Darby looked at the card again. High Voltage Vintage, it said. No address, just Gina’s name and her phone number. Darby smiled and put the card into the pocket of her jacket.
    _____
    Peggy Babson watched the hallway outside her office at Pulitzer Hall. She was watching for Professor Porter, hoping she would have a chance to ask him about Thursday’s strange events. The dark- haired guy and his violent death … She shuddered. Thoughts of the stabbing were never far from her