A Design to Die For

by Kathleen Bridge

  “Okeydokey. Don’t you think this might be more exciting for me if I watch it when it airs?” I really wanted to get going. So far his spiel was a snooze-fest.

  “It will still be exciting to watch later. Mark my words, you’ll be riveted by the scientific proof we’ve uncovered. I promise you.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  “Does this help?” he asked, turning to me after switching on the flashlight function on his phone, placing it on his lap so it made his face drain of color. The area under his cheekbones sunk in, and he resembled a good-looking vampire, like Tom Cruise from the movie Interview with a Vampire.

  “Ready?”

  “As I ever will be.”

  He gave me a dirty look.

  Unsmiling, and in a serious voice, he began, “Even though I am alive to tell the tale of what transpired last evening when my crew and I spent the night inside the lighthouse with the goal of protecting Montauk’s famed ghost, Abigail, I don’t want you to think we are out of the woods yet. (pause) In four hours we will go back inside, prepared for a battle with a supernatural entity so evil (pause) that we seriously reconsidered the challenge. Rumor has it that in 1890, when soon-to-be president Theodore Roosevelt visited the lighthouse, he told the lighthouse keeper that on his way up to the light in the tower, he felt an unearthly presence and blast of cold air. I, myself, have seen his signature in the Montauk Point Lighthouse guestbook, which can be viewed at the East Hampton Library.

  “Now, back to our innocent lighthouse ghost. It seems Abigail fell in love with an unsuitable man. Unsuitable to Abigail’s father. We are fairly certain from our communication with Abigail that it was her father who killed her lover by stuffing him between the walls of the lighthouse during one of its renovations. Our goal tonight is to locate the bones (pause) of Abigail’s true love and rid the lighthouse of Abigail’s father, who’s been keeping guard over the young man’s remains. Our only problem (pause) is we are dealing with an entity so dastardly, so foul, that its made our high-tech geomagnetometer malfunction, giving us a reading we haven’t witnessed in our ten years of ghost adventures. You will hear the entity called Abigail literally (pause) crying for our help. Using other high-tech equipment, one piece of which is a thermal UV camera, you will see for yourself that Abigail exists. Our top priority will be to find Abigail’s lover’s bones so the pair can free themselves from being tethered to the lighthouse and travel to the light. And if we can, (pause) we will lead her father’s demonic spirit into our RGR, revolutionary (pause) ghost (pause) receptacle, (pause) then toss the RGR to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.”

  He stopped, took a deep breath, and with his huge round brown eyes opened wide, he asked, “Well?”

  “It all sounds very exciting. You sure have a way with words.” And pauses. “However, I think people might be disappointed if you rid Montauk of its lighthouse ghost. Stick to throwing the father in the sea, but keep Abigail and her boyfriend around to live happily ever after inside the lighthouse.”

  He looked like he was considering it, then said, “Naw. This is good.”

  “You know there is another version about Abigail. It’s even painted on canvas inside the museum. Did you see it?”

  “Yes.” He waved his hand in a dismissive motion. “We found no proof that Abigail was the only survivor of an early-nineteenth-century shipwreck, then climbed the tower steps and died when she reached the top. All our readings point to my version.”

  “Okay. Well, good luck. Thanks for your input on Frank.”

  He got out of the car, but before closing the door he leaned in and said, “Be sure not to disturb us when we spend our second night in the lighthouse. I have to keep my phone on. My wife’s pregnant with our first child. Due any minute.”

  “Congrats. I promise not to contact you. Boy or girl?”

  “My wife wants to be surprised. I want to know.”

  “Can’t you use some of your equipment on her while she’s sleeping for a look-see?”

  “Ms. Barrett, you’re too much.”

  I swore I saw him thinking about it as he closed the car door.

  As I was about to pull away, I thought of something. I lowered the passenger-side window and called out, “Mr. Zagan!!”

  He turned, looking annoyed, but came back to the car.

  “I forgot. I have something for you.” I reached behind me to the backseat and grabbed the bag with the EVP recorder, and handed it to him.

  He took the bag and looked inside, a smile spreading across his wide mouth. “Frank’s?”

  “Frank’s,” I answered.

  He saluted, then walked away.

  Chapter 25

  I took my time leaving the lighthouse, enjoying the long drive to the center of town while thinking of my to-do list for Elle and Arthur’s celebration in my walled garden. It was only three weeks away.

  Lucky for me, my father was coming, and he’d been instrumental in choosing the menu that would be brought in by our favorite restaurant, Pondfare, prepared by TV’s Top Chef Pierre Patou. Elle’s shop assistant, right-hand man and my fashionista, Maurice, was also on team Elle and Arthur. He’d been in charge of invitations, beverages and hiring the waitstaff. Soon, many of the perennials in my walled garden would be in full bloom, one of the reasons I’d chosen the end of May. In case of inclement weather, I’d reserved a couple of white party tents and stocked up on two cases of fairy lights. At that thought, my mind wandered back to the fairy lights at Enderly Hall’s pavilion and the missing-then-found extension cord, aka the murder weapon.

  All in all, I really didn’t have that much to do for the party. Elle’s fiancé had only to show up and make sure to bring with him a surprise guest that would blow Elle’s mind—hopefully in a good way.

  When I reached tiny downtown Montauk, I slowed to let a young couple cross the road. They took their time. As they walked, the man pushed aside the woman’s long dark hair, then kissed the base of her neck. She pushed him away, laughing, then they walked hand in hand to the curb. A couple of hours ago, the scene would’ve rubbed salt in an oozing wound. But now, knowing that Patrick wasn’t involved with Ashley, the romantic spectacle I’d just witnessed had my heart thumping deliriously.

  Putting my foot on the gas pedal, I continued west with a huge smile on my face and a song in my heart, until the photo of Patrick’s wife and daughter came to mind. How could someone compete with that?

  At Montauk’s town green I saw a familiar figure sitting on a park bench. Nate Klein. Minus Kuri. He held a phone to his ear and didn’t look happy. I coasted to a stop, put the car in Park, got out and fed the parking meter a quarter. Trying to make it appear as if I was aimlessly strolling by, I stopped short in front of him and feigned surprise.

  Still talking into the phone, Nate motioned for me to have a seat. Which I gladly did. “Okay, I’ll be there around four to pick you up,” he said in a soothing voice. “Don’t talk to anyone but your lawyer about anything. Things will work out, I promise.” He tapped his phone screen and pocketed his phone.

  “Was that Jenna?” I asked, knowing it was. “Is she okay? Nothing’s happened, has it?”

  “She’s fine. But she’s been ordered to show up in South Hampton to identify Roland’s body. A ridiculous formality in my opinion. She’s with her friend Ellen, says she’s okay. Sounds a little out of it.”

  I didn’t correct him that Jenna was with Elle, not someone named Ellen. And I didn’t think it was any of his business that per Elle, Jenna had been given a prescription from her psychiatrist, which would explain the “out of it” part. Jenna being the hypochondriac that she was, in this case the pills seemed warranted. I said, “I brought her to the yacht club last night. Made sure she was sleeping before I left her.”

  “Thanks for that,” he said. “I just hope they don’t charge her.”

  “Do you really think they will?”

  “I can’t see how. I’ve talked to Chief Pell. So far, there’s no concrete evidence. But just being h
is wife makes Jenna look guilty.” When Nate was being interviewed by Morgana, unlike Jenna and Vicki, he hadn’t disguised his contempt for Roland Cahill. What surprised me was his mention of Chief Pell. I’d forgotten that in the library, Pell had called Nate by his first name. What was their connection? In this case, Nate’s relationship to the chief might be to Jenna’s advantage. Unless Nate murdered Roland. Then it would be to Nate’s advantage.

  “Did Jenna tell you that she thought Roland tried to run her over the other day?” I asked.

  “Yes. And I brushed it off. Wish I hadn’t. You know Jenna,” he said, turning to me. “I thought she was exaggerating.”

  “Did she also tell you that she overheard Roland say that he planned to sell Enderly Hall?”

  “Yes. And he also planned on faking Stanford White papers proving White was the architect. The jerk even asked Kuri to make copies at the Montauk Library of the architectural renderings on file for one of Stanford White’s sister cottages. Thankfully Kuri told me about it before she did it. Knowing what he was up to, I blew a gasket.” He balled his fists. “It wasn’t a pretty confrontation, but well deserved.”

  “Is that why you gave him a black eye?”

  “Jenna told you?”

  It had been a guess. Obviously, a good one. I evaded answering, not wanting to lie. Instead I said, “Not to talk ill of the dead, but he seemed to have it coming. Not the murder part. The black eye part.”

  Nate put his head in his hands and mumbled something my hearing aids couldn’t pick up. I waited until he sat back up. I’d never been this close to him before. He was quite a looker; no wonder Vicki was enamored with him. He also smelled good, citrus and some other earthy scent. He moaned, “I wouldn’t have hired him if I’d known the truth behind his Queens construction firm. Kuri did a little digging into his past and found more than a few skeletons, but it was too late. I couldn’t get rid of him after promising my cousin.”

  I would have loved to ask him what those skeletons were, but I could tell I had to tread gently. Nate looked like he was ready for a breakdown. “My friend Elle and I were sure tricked when we met Roland at the wedding. He was so charming. Jenna seemed truly smitten. Is that why you agreed to have him join your firm? Because he made Jenna so happy? Did your relationship start out better in the beginning?”

  “Relationship? With him?” he snarled. “It was never smooth. Yes, I was doing Jenna a favor. Just as she and her father had done for me many years ago, paying for my tuition to become an architect, then introducing me to all her high-society friends in Manhattan. When she moved to the East End and I opened Klein and Associates, I told her I didn’t want anyone knowing we were cousins. I wanted to make it on my own credentials, not cling to her shirttails. She agreed wholeheartedly. Now it’s my turn to be there for her.”

  “From what I’ve heard, you sure have made a success out of it. She’s lucky to have you in her corner. The few times I interacted with Roland at the showhouse, he could be pretty rough around the edges.”

  “And controlling. He had Jenna on a short leash. When it came to the firm, Kuri and I had to constantly smooth things over with our clients, putting out one fire after another.” He stopped for a moment, looking pensive as he gazed in the direction of the ocean, only a few short blocks away. “Roland paid no attention to detail,” he said, continuing. “Tried to use substandard materials, then invoiced me for more than he paid. Kuri found him out and snitched, even though he threatened her with . . .”

  He didn’t finish his sentence and didn’t need to because I had heard the same threat when Elle and I saw him in Amagansett. He was threatening to tell Kuri’s husband something. I wanted to ask if she was stepping out on her husband. Weighing my options, and Kuri’s possible relationship with Nate, I decided to zip it. Plus, I didn’t want to stop the flow of information he was so freely spewing. So I asked something that had nothing to do with his relationship with Kuri. “When I bumped into Roland on Friday in Amagansett, he was served with court papers. Seemed quite taken aback. Any idea what they were for?”

  “No. I wonder why Kuri didn’t tell me? Well, whatever it was for, it has died with him, unless . . .” He said more to himself, than me. Probably realizing that Roland, being a partner in the firm, might make Klein and Associates liable for whatever the subpoena was for.

  I stood, knowing we’d talked long enough, not wanting to push it. “Please pass on to Jenna that she’s more than welcome to stay at the yacht club as long as she wants.”

  “You’re a good friend,” he said, also getting up from the bench. “You must think she’s innocent. That’s good.”

  And he didn’t?

  “But after I take Jenna to East Hampton to identify the body, I am determined to have her come stay with me. I don’t want her anywhere near that Vicki creature who’s been freeloading off of Jenna and using the Amagansett rental. I saw Vicki and Roland going at it Friday. There must have been some reason he asked Jenna to include her as one of Enderly’s interior decorators. Per Kuri, she didn’t inherit one ounce of her mother’s design genes. And Roland never did anything unless it helped Roland. I think his former stepdaughter felt the same way.”

  “Vicki’s not in Amagansett. She supposedly left for Manhattan this morning.”

  “I thought we were told to stick around. Well, that’s a relief. Jenna doesn’t need Vicki piling on any more stress. Plus, Vicki told everyone yesterday that Roland and Jenna had gotten in a fight Friday night. If I was Jenna, I’d never let her set foot at Enderly Hall again.”

  We walked together to the sidewalk. Nate turned to the left, I to the right. “Take care,” I said to his back. “Oh, Mr. Klein, one more thing.”

  He turned around.

  “Tell Jenna to call anytime. I’m only a text away.”

  “Thanks for being so kind to my cousin. I’ll pass it on.”

  If Nate and Jenna were cousins and both were blood relatives of Jenna’s grandfather, then Nate might have a motive to get Roland out of the way. And then possibly Jenna. She’d told Elle and I how her father and uncle had fought for Enderly Hall. It was only after both men died that she inherited the estate. Jenna had no siblings. Far-fetched as it seemed, if Nate was an Eastman, he might have a motive for murder. I left caution to the now brisk wind and asked, “I’m so happy Jenna has family to lean on. Are you related on her mother’s or father’s side of the family?”

  He ratcheted his head toward me. Scowling, he snapped, “Why? What does that have to do with anything? What does it matter which side I’m related to?”

  Oops.

  I guess that answered my question.

  Chapter 26

  “You know, I shouldn’t be doing this. We were going to try to keep our relationship on the down low. This can’t be an official visit,” Morgana whispered as we used my keycard to walk through the gates of Enderly Hall. I raised the volume on my hearing aids and asked why there weren’t any police vehicles parked inside or outside the property.

  “There’s an officer who swings by every half hour. That’s why we need to be quick. In and out,” she repeated for the tenth time.

  “Did you get the photo I sent you.” I’d forwarded Patrick’s text of our suspect list.

  “Yes. I like that it gives me your take on everyone. My sister tells me this isn’t your first rodeo, however, I don’t know this Patrick guy, so I wouldn’t share too much. Pell doesn’t want the fact that Mr. Cahill was murdered in the press yet. They’re still calling it a suspicious death.”

  I explained who Patrick was.

  “Oh, the author. I’m impressed you two are friends.”

  “Not exactly friends, but we’re getting there.”

  “What happened to that handsome rich Spenser guy you were dating?”

  “We’re over.”

  “By the look of those pink, rosy cheeks under the lamplight, you’ve moved on with a certain author? Am I right?”

  I didn’t answer and she continued, “I’m a big fa
n of his writing. Love his thrillers. But I’ve never seen him hanging around town. I do know he’s good-looking from his dust jacket photos. Heard he was a recluse because of some tragedy.”

  “He seems to be coming out in public a little more. Seems happier. Which might have something to do with Mr. & Mrs. Winslow. He wrote the screenplay for an upcoming television series, similar to the Thin Man movies based on Dashiell Hammett’s books.”

  “Nick and Nora. I loved those movies. I especially loved their dog Asta, a wire fox terrier. That breed can be a little high-strung. My aunt had one, and it used to nip at our ankles when we came for Sunday supper. Talk about a coincidence, I just got a request for filming at the lighthouse by Mr. & Mrs. Winslow’s production company. It’s for next September, after the summer season ends. Hope my boss approves it. Anytime Hollywood comes to Montauk, it calls for extra recruits and costs the taxpayers lots of money.”

  “On the other hand, it’s great for publicity. It should be a closed set. People on the East End are used to camera crews and A-list stars.” We stopped at a fork in the path. “So, enough chitchat, Officer Moss. Why am I here?”

  “Frank Holden’s phone,” she said. “We need to find it. When I had Frank in the office to sign his statement, he brought it up again. There must be something on that phone that incriminates him. I need you to tell me where you saw him when he lost his paranormal investigating thingie.”

  “EVP. Sure thing. And I bet I know why he wants the phone.”

  “If you’re going to tell me his father was the one that Ms. Eastman’s grandfather shot, then I already know.”

  “Did Frank tell you that?”

  She laughed. “Contrary to all the cozy mystery books that we both like to read, the police are capable of handling murder investigations. It didn’t take DNA testing to find out Frank Holden’s ties to Enderly Hall.”