Death on West End Road

by Carrie Doyle

  That said, the police probably would have confiscated it if it held anything of substance. Maybe it was only filled with scribbles and immature daydreams. (If it was anything like Antonia’s diary from age seventeen it would have a whole lot of games of “Hangman” and pages devoted to her love of boy bands.) Pauline had the strangest look on her face when she handed it over to Antonia and had only provided a vague answer as to why it was in her possession. She demurred when Antonia asked if the police had ever seen it, and Antonia decided not to press lest Pauline suddenly have a change of heart and decide now was the time to march it down to the police station and surrender it to Officer Flanagan.

  After turning off her car, Antonia bounded out of the parking lot and headed toward the back entrance of the inn. Before she checked in at the kitchen or asked how things were going at the front desk, she was determined to stop by her apartment for at least half an hour to skim the diary. She skirted past the dining room and was about to veer left toward the back hall that led to her apartment when a voice stopped her from behind.

  “There you are, you cheating skunk! I knew you were avoiding me. Coming in the back entrance so I wouldn’t see you? Sneaking around behind my back? We had a deal, Bingham. And you are blowing it.”

  Guiltily, Antonia slowly turned around. “Hello, Larry.”

  He stood in the middle of the main hallway with his hands on his hips. “Hello, Larry? Really? That’s all you can say.”

  Antonia sighed deeply. “What’s wrong now, Larry?”

  “Oh, you know what’s wrong. We had a deal, lady. A deal. And I find out from one of my very hot sources that you were at the Dune Club interviewing Dougie Marshall? Um, hello? We agreed that we would conduct all interviews together. This is a total breach of everything.”

  Antonia smiled beatifically and gripped her handbag closer to her chest. Susie’s diary was deep in the bowels of the messy bag, no doubt camouflaged by all of the junk she carried around—lip gloss, tissues, compact mirror, Altoids, pens, keys, pepper spray (a recent necessity), as well as credit cards and cash—but she hoped to hell that Larry would not guess that she had something like that in her bag or he would rip it from her in the same manner a bear attacks his prey.

  “We said some interviews.”

  “That won’t cut it. You are going to sit down with me right now and walk me through everything you have learned so far or I won’t share with you the mega information I discovered. And I want every detail. Hell hath no fury like a reporter scorned.”

  It took half an hour to tell Larry everything she’d discovered in her interviews. She had initially tried to condense her reports, but Larry was having none of it and pressed her for more details. When they had exhausted the topic, and Antonia had completely missed her window to look through Susie’s diary, Larry finally stopped firing questions at her.

  “Okay, now tell me this so-called mega information you discovered,” Antonia commanded.

  “Only because I believe that you have fully come clean with everything you know, I will share with you.”

  “You’re too kind,” she said sarcastically.

  Larry smiled beatifically. “I know.”

  “What is it?”

  “Barbara Whitaker—Susie’s mother—died four years ago.”

  Antonia felt the blood drain from her face. “What? That’s not possible.”

  “Very possible. She’s a full-on ground monkey now. In fact, it wasn’t even hard to find out. A quick Google search and the obituary popped right up.”

  Antonia was stunned. “Then . . . why would Pauline say she was on her deathbed? And who left me a message?”

  “She’s playing you. She knew that if there was a ticking clock you’d get moving on your investigation.”

  “That’s so strange . . .” Antonia opened and closed her mouth as if she wanted to say more but she was too shocked. What kind of a psychopath was she dealing with? “Pauline and I literally just talked about the message Barbara left me not two hours ago.”

  “She probably left you the message herself.”

  Antonia retrieved the receiver of her landline and played the message on speaker. Now that she knew it was an imposter, the voice sounded phony.

  “Not even a good actress,” Larry added.

  “I can’t believe it. What else has she lied to me about?”

  “Probably everything. The good news is I talked to Officer Flanagan . . .”

  “Larry! I was planning on talking to him.”

  “I know, that’s why I had to get there first. I told him all about how we’re working together . . .”

  Antonia’s blood began to boil. She crossed her arms and scowled at Larry. “I just hope you didn’t mess it up.”

  “I didn’t. But you’re focusing on the wrong thing. Don’t you want to know what he said?”

  “Yes. Tell me.”

  “He was young at the time and so wasn’t a very important person on the force or big in the investigation. But he recalled that they had interviewed Susie’s parents, who said something had been going on between Susie and Pauline at the time. They were fighting, and Susie would call home crying a lot. They kept telling her to come home, but she didn’t want to.”

  “That makes sense. She didn’t want to leave because she was dating Kevin Powers, but Pauline was giving her a hard time about it.”

  “Right. But the parents also said that Susie told them that . . .” Larry took a minute to whip out his leather-bound notebook and flip through it to find a certain page. “She told them that she ‘may have gone too far.’ That’s a direct quote. ‘May have gone too far.’”

  “What does they mean?”

  “The cops think she did something to piss off Pauline so Pauline offed her. Susie’s parents suggested that she was agitated and afraid, particularly the night before she was killed. She told them she felt alone, that she had done something she shouldn’t have. And she was paranoid, because she called them from the Dune Club and said she was scared to use the phone at the Framinghams’ because ‘they may be listening.’ The point is, Susie had done something that made someone, most likely Pauline, pretty mad. She regretted it because she knew it made Pauline homicidal, and next thing, she’s dead.”

  Antonia sat still, all of the information coming at her from a thousand different points in her head. “But it doesn’t make sense, why would Pauline hire me to find Susie’s murderer? Why open this all up again?”

  Larry threw up his hands. “It’s what everyone has been telling you! Pauline is having fun. She enjoys manipulating people. Oh, Antonia. When are you going to start to see the bad in people?”

  * * * * *

  Everything went like clockwork in the back of the house that night: the restaurant turned tables quickly, Kendra’s Instagram photos were all submitted so now it was a waiting game, and the receipts had been good. Antonia left the crew to shut down the kitchen while she changed out of her whites before wandering into the dining room where there were a few stragglers. She glanced around the room and then froze as her heart leapt into her mouth.

  Nick Darrow was sitting at the bar nursing a drink. He was tapping the bar with a straw, and his foot jogged along on the bottom of the barstool. Even from a distance he had a commandingly powerful presence that made him riveting. As Antonia approached, she saw that he had a few days’ stubble of beard on his tanned face, giving him a rugged look that he sometimes had in his films. The closer she came to him, the more she smelled his particular scent—that familiar masculine aroma of saddle soap and leather that made her weak in the knees. He turned and looked up at her and smiled and she felt as if her life was happening in slow motion. Why hadn’t she prepared herself for his return? She wanted to be casual but all she felt was unsteady.

  “Hey! You’re back,” she said mustering as casual and cheerful a tone as possible. It seemed to her as if her
voice came out in a shaky, warbly tone similar to when they slow down a film and the actors’ voices become distorted.

  He stood up and firmly gripped her arms with his large, warm hands. They looked into each other’s eyes before he leaned in for a strong kiss on her cheek. His lips were soft to the touch and didn’t merely graze her cheek but pressed against it. She felt slightly weak in her knees.

  “Antonia, you look great.”

  “Thank you,” she responded softly. “So . . . you’re back?”

  “Yes, I came back earlier this week.”

  “That’s great.”

  “But only for a little while, I still have to head back.”

  Disappointment coursed through her body and she slid herself onto the stool next to him. “How was it? Did you have a good time in Australia?”

  He waved his hand in the air. “I’m sure you heard everything.”

  She became immediately alarmed. “No, what happened?”

  “Melanie and I broke up. I thought you’d have seen it, it’s been all over the press.”

  “No. I don’t really read that sort of press.”

  “Good for you,” he said with gratitude. “It’s been awful. For me, for Finn. A long time coming.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, although that wasn’t entirely true.

  He frowned. “She’s so dramatic and selfish. She can’t be reasonable. Jealous of everything and everyone. Thought I was having an affair with Daphne Jennings . . .” When he saw Antonia’s blank look he clarified. “That’s my costar. It’s not relevant. It wasn’t true. But Melanie is so damn paranoid she can talk herself into anything. She became furious and took off. Without a word—didn’t even tell the sitter or me or Finn where she was going. Returned three days later just as I was about to send out a private detective. She took Finn and came back here, saying she needed time. I had to leave the set to deal with this. That’s why I’m back, to see him. I don’t know for how long.”

  Antonia nodded. There was so much she wanted to say, but she wasn’t sure what was best. Her honest advice might be clouded by the fact that she had a giant crush on him. Should she tell him to do everything he could to work it out with Melanie? Probably. But could she say that genuinely? No. What she really wanted to say was okay, now marry me! Melanie had her chance—their marriage had always been contentious. Let Antonia take over! Why be with a gorgeous movie star when you can be with a chubby chef? Albeit a chef who would love you more than anyone in the world could.

  “I hope everything works out for the best.”

  He nodded. “We’ll see. But how are you?” His eyes slid over her body. “You look great. I see you’re all recovered.”

  “I’m no longer hobbling around on a cane at least.”

  “I’m glad. Although I bet you rocked the cane.”

  “How can someone ‘rock a cane’?”

  “You know what I mean. You’re an elegant woman, I’m sure you inspired a trend. Now I’ll walk down Main Street and see all the fashionable young women using canes.”

  Antonia laughed. “Hardly. But it was actually slightly fun in the beginning. Then it became inconvenient.”

  “And how’s business? This place looks like it’s going gangbusters.”

  “We’re having a great summer.”

  “I’m really glad.”

  He stopped speaking but looked as if he had more to say. He stared at her face, running his eyes all over it. “It’s good to be back.”

  “It’s good to have you back.”

  Something was passing between them, but Antonia had no idea what. This wasn’t the time or place to say anything more . . . and besides, could she really? He stared at her intensely before downing the rest of his drink.

  “Listen, I’m beat and have to be up early tomorrow. Any chance we can have dinner this week?”

  “Sure. Tomorrow?” She didn’t want to appear too eager, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “Yeah . . . no, wait. I have to go to the city tomorrow for a few days. Let’s do Sunday night.”

  “Sunday,” she said, nodding. “Sure. Sounds good.”

  He pulled out his wallet and placed a twenty on the bar. “We’ll talk more. We have a lot to discuss.”

  “Great.”

  Before he left, he hugged her goodbye and whispered in her hair, “I missed you.”

  Antonia felt again the rush of weakness and swimming giddiness that Nick incited in her. It was as if every compliment he extended toward her was an ember that warmed her body and soul. Antonia knew attraction and lust were fleeting, but connections were lasting and what she shared with Nick was an undeniable connection.

  She tossed and turned in her bed that night trying to decipher the meaning of that statement: “I missed you.” His words echoed over and over again in her ears. Should she take them at face value? Or was there something more there? What was it about Nick that brought her to her knees? Antonia had to be careful. She hadn’t felt this way since . . . well, if she had to admit it to herself, it was since she’d met her ex-husband, Philip. She dragged her mind away from Nick and forced herself to rethink her past in an effort to avoid the same mistakes.

  In retrospect, it was so hard for her to even imagine what she had seen in Philip, now that she knew what a violent and manipulative man he was. And he was in no way her type, physically or personality-wise. Previously she had only dated soulful poets, dreamers who were as penniless as they were cerebral. Then one day she was catering a Fourth of July picnic for the police department. It was before she had her own company—she was still young—but she had been charged with making most of the meal as the owner of the company had come down with a stomach bug and relinquished many of her duties to Antonia. Antonia was totally in the weeds—running around like a chicken with her head cut off—when this clean-cut attractive cop swaggered up to her station. Philip introduced himself, told her she made the best fried chicken he had ever eaten, and informed her that he was taking her to dinner that Friday and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  Antonia was young enough to be dazzled by this handsome authority figure who exuded confidence and control. Little did she know how controlling he actually was. Everything that had initially attracted her ended up repelling her. What was it about Antonia that gravitated toward him? It was certainly something about her character that she could not understand. Particularly since her parents had been such fabulous role models—good people with a loving marriage. Was she self-destructive? Was this “flirting with danger” (to put it very mildly) the same inclination that had her running around chasing killers? All she had to do was go about her happy life in her cozy inn with her incredible friends and restaurant, and yet, here she was: skidding around town trying to find out who killed Susie Whitaker decades ago. Human nature was impossible to understand. And self-awareness was even more daunting. Antonia drifted off to a fitful slumber, with images of darkness dancing through her dreams.

  19

  August 18

  Dear Diary,

  Pauline is so mad at me! I don’t know what to do. I think she is being totally irrational. I am her BEST friend, I only have her BEST interests at heart. The problem is she thinks she can do anything and there will be no consequences. She has always gotten her way. But I think what she is doing is wrong on so many levels. And she just won’t listen to me. Call me what she wants—prude, snitch, nerd—I don’t care. But I have MORALS. She DOESN’T. And you know what? Who will she come crying to when this is all over? ME. Okay, maybe not crying—she never cries—but she will be like, all upset. And if she would just listen to me, she could totally avoid this situation. You know, that’s the problem with her. She thinks she is so mature and grown up and knows everything, but she is still young—we both are. That’s why she has to be careful. You can’t get yourself into these situations. Everybody gets super mad. If there was
only a rational person that she trusted that she would listen to, but her parents are clueless and she doesn’t listen to anyone. But this time I won’t back down! She has to listen to me.

  August 20

  Dear Diary,

  I totally am going to hide you in the most secret place because I am REALLY SCARED and if anyone reads you, it’s DISASTER. I think Pauline has gone off the deep end. She is in over her head. This guy is scary and controlling. She thinks she can handle it, but she can’t. She’s all like, “He’s awesome, what are you talking about?”And she pretends that she’s in charge, but he is so manipulative. And I KNOW he left me that note to back off. Pauline was like, “What note?” she said. And the worst is she says in front of him that I am against them being together and he laughs and thinks it’s funny but then I see him giving me these really creepy mean looks like he hates me. He scares the hell out of me. But so does Pauline if I am honest. She’s my best friend but there is a weird part of her that likes to be mean to me. I think she takes pleasure when I cry. She is really testing me. I am so tempted to say something to her father when he gets back but he has that terrible temper, and I’ve seen him shoot the messenger.

  August 20

  Dear Diary,

  It’s so annoying but Alida totally takes Pauline’s side and tells me to grow up and stay out of it. She pretends she doesn’t but she totally worships/is scared of Pauline. I tried to talk to her but she blew me off and made me seem like I was crazy. I would totally leave if I didn’t have my crush, he is literally the only reason I’m here. I tried to talk about it with him, but he thinks it’s all girl fights and doesn’t care, but it’s not. He also thinks Pauline is a total snob and she rules me and treats me like garbage. The thing is, Alida and Pauline are banded together and they make me into the whiny third wheel, which I’m not. Even the other day Russell’s girlfriend Holly said they were jerks to me and why do I put up with them. Maybe I should tell Holly about what’s going on. She’s weird, but I need to know if I’m paranoid or if someone is really following me/harassing me. It just seems like there are too many coincidences. Should I tell the Framinghams????? Maybe when they get back I will.