by Carrie Doyle
“I’m tired of hearing about it.”
“And you were lurking around the backyard of the inn the other day. I couldn’t figure out what you were doing there. The next day Hector found this.”
Antonia reached atop the bookshelf next to her and pulled down Biddy’s monogrammed box. She placed it in front of Naomi.
“I’ve never seen that in my life,” Naomi stated with such derision, it was as if the hotly contested dead raccoon had reappeared in place of the box.
The other guests leaned in. “Whose is it?” asked Larry.
“It was Biddy’s. And Hector found it in the backyard.”
“Maybe Hector killed her and put it there,” said Naomi, folding her arms.
Hector looked like he wanted to throw up.
“I thought of that, but he didn’t put it there. The killer did.”
“Oh me? Right,” said Naomi.
“Actually, Naomi. I know why you were in the backyard.”
“This will be good,” she sniffed.
“Why was she there?” asked Lucy.
Antonia locked eyes with Naomi. “The other day when I was out there, I stumbled on a rock. Didn’t think much of it. But then something occurred to me and I went back out to check it out. The rock is a tombstone inscribed with the name Teddy. That was your dog, was it not, Naomi? Your dog is buried there.”
Naomi stared at Antonia and her face softened slightly. “Yes,” she said flatly.
“It was something you said that gave me pause. You said, ‘There will always be part of my heart buried’ at the inn.”
“He was a wonderful dog,” whispered Naomi, her eyes filling with tears.
Antonia was amazed to see Naomi become so emotional. It was as if she had cracked her shell. A tear slid down her cheek and Soyla handed her a cocktail napkin.
“So does that mean she didn’t put the box there?” asked Len. “I’m confused.”
“Me too,” said Sylvia. She motioned for the waiter to refill her wineglass.
“I don’t follow at all,” said Ronald. “What’s the point of all this? Do we know who the killer is?”
Once again the crowd began to argue, debating who the actual murderer was. Antonia watched them, all animated and riled up. She walked over and stood behind Jennifer’s chair.
“There’s one more thing,” Antonia said loudly.
Everyone stopped and turned toward her with expectant faces. Some were shiny with perspiration; others had contented looks after the large dinner and large doses of alcohol, some nervous. But all ready for answers.
Antonia smiled. “I think we are forgetting Gordon’s other girlfriend. She is the killer. She killed both Gordon Haslett and Biddy Robertson. And she thought she’d get away with it.”
The crowd froze, their eyes moving down from Antonia’s face to Jennifer’s. They all squinted, attempting to place her, desperately searching their brain to remember her. Jennifer sat solemnly, unmoving. She didn’t even glance back at Antonia to confront her. A slow grin slid across her face.
35
“Who is she?” asked Naomi. “I’ve never seen her before.”
Barbie shook her head. “I don’t get it. She doesn’t look familiar. What’s her last name?”
“Jennifer, say it ain’t so,” said Larry, punching her playfully. “If you’re a murderer, you’re a sexy one.”
Jennifer didn’t speak. A sly smile was pursed on her lips.
“Why did she do it?” asked Naomi.
“Yeah, Jennifer, tell us why?” asked Len.
Antonia broke the silence.
“I’m not talking about Jennifer,” she said firmly. “I’m talking about Lucy.”
Every head in the room whipped toward Lucy in astonishment.
Lucy sat up straighter. “Me?”
Antonia slowly walked around the entire table until she was behind Lucy, the latter of whom now had to twist her neck to glance up at Antonia.
“Yes, you, Lucy. I can’t believe it was in front of me all along and it took me so long to see it. It’s actually amazing that no one ever considered it, but then Lucy, you have an amazing ability to hover in the background.”
“This is ridiculous,” she said, before adding in a whisper, “is this part of the plan? To accuse me to shake out the real killer?”
“No, Lucy. It’s not part of any plan. In fact, you are the master of plans. Not me.”
“This is crazy. I should go,” said Lucy, standing up.
Antonia firmly pressed her down back into her seat. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Lucy did it…it makes sense,” said Ronald.
Barbie nodded. “Of course.”
Even Naomi added reluctantly. “It does…”
Lucy folded her arms. “This is insane. You have no proof.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, my friend.”
“Let’s hear the evidence,” said Joseph.
Antonia cleared her throat.
“When I first bought the inn a year and a half ago, it was Lucy Corning who assisted me in getting up and running. She had been the bookkeeper for the past several years, and she knew everything about the inn. She was so informative that I promoted her from bookkeeper to manager. I thought, here was a diligent employee. Savvy, too, which was amazing because she had really only worked at the inn for three years. But what I didn’t realize is that Lucy had actually been around the inn before that. When she was dating Gordon Haslett.”
Lucy shook her head firmly. “That is just not true…”
“It’s not? Because if you look at the pictures of the Millennium party that Gordon held at the inn, there you are in the background of every picture with Gordon, dressed as a bunny.”
Antonia dumped out the contents of the envelope that Larry had brought in front of Lucy. There were snapshots of her and Gordon, and in most, like in Joan Masterson’s pictures, she had her mask on. But in the last one she held her bunny head in her arms and stared up adoringly at Gordon.
Lucy refused to look at the pictures so Antonia scooped them up and began passing them around the table.
“I don’t quite understand why you hung in there with Gordon after he dumped you, but there is a certain tenacity in you. As Barbie said last week, ‘I’m just wondering when that woman will disappear forever. She’s like a tick that keeps hanging on.’”
“Ouch!” said Larry.
Lucy gave him a hostile look. “Fine. We dated briefly years ago, but so what?”
“I don’t think it was brief. We had guests staying with us last week, the Winslows, who told me they were so happy to see Gordon’s girlfriend still working at the inn. Barbie had been there that morning, so I assumed they thought she was still working here. But now I know they meant you. And they said that it had always been your dream to own an inn.”
“There’s the motive,” said Ronald.
“That means nothing,” said Lucy. “None of this proves anything.”
“I think you wanted the inn for yourself. You told me you got into vintage clothes when you worked at a vintage store, and which I realized was the L.V.I.S. thrift shop. You worked there when Biddy was a volunteer. She told you the inn was going into foreclosure. You alerted Gordon and he swooped in to buy it. You thought you would have your dream come true. But Gordon was volatile, unpredictable. He threw you over for Barbie. But you got your revenge. You began siphoning off money from the accounts. You were the bookkeeper; you had access. You put the money into Naomi’s accounts or Barbie’s accounts to make it look like they were stealing, but you are the thief. You also stole from people at the inn. The Winslows said you were so helpful in assisting them in finding something, but that’s because you took it! And then you planted those earrings on Barbie’s desk, pretending it was from her lover, hoping that she would tell Gordon and he would k
now she was cheating and throw her out.”
“That’s not true.”
“But it backfired with Gordon. He still stuck by Barbie for some reason. And that enraged you, so you planned his murder. But somehow Gordon knew it. And it is his words from the dead that seized me.”
Antonia paused. Everyone was on the edge of their seats.
“I found his note. It said, I swear to God that B is trying to kill me. That B. For the longest time I thought it was Ronald Meter, who he called the beast. Or Barbie. Or Biddy. But it was you. That bookkeeper. You were trying to kill him.”
“You said yourself the girl at the farm stand saw Barbie!”
Antonia nodded. “You were the one who led me to the farm stand. I was such a dupe. I thought I had discovered it on my own, but you planted the card statements on me, under a false pretense, knowing I would see that purchase. And yes, the girl at the farm stand said that it was a busty blond woman.”
“See? Not me.”
“Did you forget you told me you went as Jayne Mansfield one Halloween? That meant you had the padded bra and the big shoes and blond wig. I believe you wore that outfit to the farm stand when you stole the bee.”
Lucy looked deflated. “I couldn’t have…”
“Matt, the first responder, told me he had spoken to Gordon’s girlfriend at the scene. I thought it was Barbie, but of course it was you. Matt was at that Millennium party years ago, so of course he could identify you. And by the way, I’m pretty sure you called in that alarm in Quogue just to ensure that he wasn’t here tonight.”
“Please,” she sniffed.
“Just like I’m sure you were the anonymous caller who alerted the police to the carbon monoxide alarm that you threw in Naomi’s neighbor’s garbage. By the way, Jennifer is here because she is Naomi’s neighbor. Her brother Ty dated my friend Genevieve. Albeit briefly.”
“So, that’s why you’re here,” said Larry turning to Jennifer. “I’m so happy you’re not going to jail so we can go out again.”
“I saw a red Mini outside my house one night. I think that’s when they put the alarm in my trash,” said Jennifer.
“Lucy drives a red Mini!” said Hector, suddenly animated. It was the first time he participated in the conversation.
“So did she kill Biddy too?” asked Len.
“Yes,” said Antonia. “Recently, Biddy told her neighbor Sharon that she was going to lunch with an old colleague and it would be interesting. She meant Lucy. I think they had originally schemed together on something to get back at Gordon, but then Lucy changed her mind. Maybe Biddy knew she killed him and was blackmailing her.”
“This is absurd,” said Lucy under her breath.
“Is it? You’ve spent the last week playing tricks on me, locking me in closets, taking away stepladders, planting booby traps, all so I would think the inn was haunted and take off. And then you could buy the inn from me at a cheap price. The bank mistakenly called me with your mortgage application—the one you tried to hide from me the other day. I thought it was a wrong number, but something made me call the banker back to make sure. You want the inn and you will do anything to get it. Embezzlement, blackmail, murder.”
“But why this inn? There are so many,” asked Barbie. “It’s not that special. No offense.”
Antonia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She turned and stared at Lucy, who gazed at her defiantly.
“Because this is her home.”
“Okay, sure. But it was my home too, and I moved on,” said Barbie.
“You don’t understand. Before Lucy was adopted by her stepfather Walter Corning, she was Lucy McKenna. Her parents Greg and Charmaine owned the inn. Sylvia, didn’t you recognize her? Lucy was your student.”
Sylvia squinted until a slow smile appeared. “Oh, heavens! Now I remember. So long ago.”
“This is the place where Lucy’s mother killed her father, shattering her idyllic life. And Lucy wanted it back. Wanted to erase the past, and reclaim it as her future.”
There was complete silence. Everyone kept shifting their gaze between Lucy and Antonia, who were staring at each other intently. Slowly Lucy slid back her chair and stood up. She began clapping. Softly at first, but then louder and louder. Tears were running down her face but she was smiling like a madwoman. Her hands began banging against each other so hard it was as if her blood vessels would burst.
“Bravo! Bravo!” she said.
She continued to furiously clap. It became alarming, but she wouldn’t stop, or maybe she simply couldn’t. Her body started convulsing, and she began some sort of fit, her hands flailing, her eyes rolling. The other diners rushed to her.
“Call an ambulance!” Antonia yelled to the waiters.
“Call the police,” said Joseph firmly.
“Aren’t those waiters cops?” asked Barbie.
Antonia shook her head. “They’re just waiters. I had to tell some little white lies as means to an end.”
Barbie scowled. “You tricked me.”
“But you got a happy ending, didn’t you?”
Hector dialed 911.
36
Early Morning Monday
The inn was quiet. The diners had left. The paramedics had left. The police had left. Lucy had left with them. The black night had spread out against the sky, licking its way into the edges of the horizon. There was no breeze, just a stillness in the brisk air. A comforting hush curled inside the corners of the inn. The dying fire was still doing its best to hang on, its burning embers emitting low flickers. Antonia and Joseph sat in the two armchairs in front of it, glasses of cognac in hand. They were weary and emotionally spent but had that charge of adrenaline coursing through their veins that would not allow them to sleep.
“Well done, my dear,” congratulated Joseph.
“Thank you. Couldn’t have done it without you.”
“That’s not true, but I was happy to help.”
“I’m so glad it’s all over. I mean, it was surreal, but now things can return to normal. I don’t need any more drama.”
“I hear you. By the way, what was that skirmish with Barbie when she was on her way out?”
“Oh,” said Antonia, pausing to take a sip. “She wanted the will. I had to break it to her that I was bluffing. It was a blank sheet of paper. She kind of freaked out when I told her.”
Joseph chuckled. “I can imagine.”
“I do think there was a will, actually. I think Lucy destroyed it. Why wouldn’t she? Barbie was her rival.”
“Maybe she’ll confess.”
“I doubt it,” said Antonia. “I doubt she’ll confess to any of it. At the end of the day, it’s all circumstantial evidence. Not sure it’s enough to convict.”
“The police will dig up more. You did your part, now you can retire.”
“Agreed. I will need a new manager, though.”
“You’ll find one.”
“I’m sure.”
Suddenly the front door burst open and Genevieve came rushing in. She was wearing a long black cape, and her hair was done up in a dramatic bun.
“I came as soon as I heard. Is everything okay?” she asked anxiously.
“Everything is fine now. Don’t worry.”
She walked over to Antonia, bent over her, and gave her a big hug. “I was so worried. Listen, I’m on a date but I can stay if you need me…”
“I’m fine.”
Genevieve cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
“Completely.”
“Okay, well, I see you’re in good hands. And this guy is hot! He’s waiting in the car. He’s in a band! They’re playing next week at the Talkhouse. Promise you’ll come with me.”
“Done.”
Genevieve went over to the bar and poured herself a shot of vodka, which she downed quickly. “Thanks for the
lubricant,” she said with a wink. “And now that I know you haven’t been murdered or anything, I’m gonna head out.”
“She’s quite alive,” remarked Joseph.
“Take good care of her!” she said to Joseph, flinging the cape over her shoulder and heading for the door. “She’s my bestie!”
“I will.”
Genevieve left leaving a trail of perfume in her wake. Antonia and Joseph smiled at each other.
“She’s a little silly, but she’s a good friend,” said Antonia.
“I’m grateful to her, knowing she’s the reason you’re here in East Hampton.”
Conversation paused while they sat and simply enjoyed the peace that silence brought. Finally, Joseph spoke.
“Well, my dear, I should call it a night. As much as I’d love to stay, time for me to get home.”
Antonia looked at Joseph pensively. “You know, I was thinking something.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“Upstairs we have these three little connecting rooms, designed like a mini-apartment. There’s a bedroom, a sitting room, and a small, really tiny room that could fit a desk. No one has booked it yet, not even for a night. And I was just thinking, maybe you wanted to move into the inn? I mean, instead of moving to New York City. I would love it if you were here. You’ve become such a wonderful friend, I don’t want you to leave town. And there’s the elevator so you wouldn’t have to use the stairs. Would you think about it?”
Tears welled in Joseph’s eyes. He took out his handkerchief and wiped them away.
“Are you okay? Oh, please don’t cry!” She leaned over and patted him on the back.
“That’s the nicest offer anyone has given me. I’d love to move in here. Of course, I will pay you market rate…”
“Joseph…”
“I insist. But yes, I would love to, my dear. I was dreading a move into one of those god-awful buildings my son wants to stuff me into.”
“Then this is the perfect solution,” beamed Antonia.
Joseph clasped her hands and they sat there for a minute, enjoying the moment. Antonia was thrilled she had found someone like Joseph. He was a wonderful friend, and a surrogate father figure. She didn’t know why she didn’t think of asking him to move in sooner. It had all just dawned on her. Maybe she had been too distracted by murder, but now she was glad to be done with that.