by Carrie Doyle
Antonia could see recognition in Sally’s eyes. She quickly pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. “I remember that.”
“Yes, I’m sure you do. I wanted to ask you about Kevin Powers. As I’m sure you know he was a suspect in that murder.”
Sally released a long stream of smoke before biting her nail. “I know.”
“And I only recently learned that he had an issue with your daughter, Kimberly.”
“The police knew all about that,” Sally said quickly.
“I’m sure they did.”
“Kimberly’s fine now. Married and living down in Florida.”
“I’m really happy to hear that.”
“Got two grandbabies. Cheryl and Brandon.”
Sally pulled out her phone and showed Antonia her screensaver. Two tow-headed children missing various front teeth beamed from the screen.
“Adorable.”
“I don’t get to see them enough. Hopefully she’ll make it up for Christmas. Although it’s hard to leave the warm weather when it’s so dark and cold around here. We’ll see. Maybe I can make it down there.”
“That would be wonderful,” Antonia agreed. “So, Sally. I’m sorry if I’m being indelicate, it’s just that I need to clarify some things. Do you mind telling me exactly what happened between Kevin and Kimberly?”
Sally took another drag on her cigarette. “That was a bad time.”
“I’m sure.”
“It was about . . . I don’t know, let’s see . . . Kimberly is thirty-one, so she was about nineteen when it happened. Let’s see, that’s twelve years ago. But she was dating Kevin for a year or so. Maybe longer, I’m not sure. We’re out in Montauk and she would take off, you know, her and her friends. I knew she was seeing someone but wasn’t sure she was steady. It took her a few months or so to bring him around. I thought Kevin was nice enough. He was older, for sure, in his thirties, and Kimberly was only a teenager, but she was very mature, you know. Very mature. I never worried about her. She helped me out a lot with her younger brothers . . .”
Antonia was shocked by the age difference but she nodded along, not wanting to interrupt. “Sure,” she murmured.
“Well, you know how it is when you don’t pay attention and then something happens and you realize you were a big dummy and it was in front of you all along? One time, Kimberly went out to meet Kevin and she was in a real short skirt. Now, maybe I shouldn’t have let her out of the house like that, but it was the fashion, she told me, and all her girlfriends were dressing like that, so who was I to say? I don’t follow fashion or read up on the magazines, so I said okay. She made her own money at her job at Gosman’s, and she bought her own clothes. As I said, I’m not the fashion police.
“Well, someone said that Kevin didn’t really like that outfit, and he thought she was really being a bit too friendly with one of the other guys. It was a guy from Kimberly’s class at high school. Now, they’ve known each other since they were little, and nothing was going on, but he was—Kevin that is—thinking she was two-timing him. Of course she was not. But he was apparently experimenting with drugs then, and it made him paranoid. And so when he saw Kimberly talking to her friend, they started to fight, and he threw a bottle. Now, whether or not it was meant to hit her is up for dispute, but it did. And she got a great big gash on the side of her head. The police were called. Now, it ain’t right at all. And I am mad as hell that he took advantage of the trust Kimberly’s dad and I had in him. He was too old to be behaving that way. And Kimberly’s friends said it was not the first time but before he had been lucky. The cops came and they sent him away for a while. And that was that.”
“Did Kimberly date him after prison?”
“Naw, she moved on. Funnily enough, she did start dating the young man that Kevin was all worked up about. That’s the reason she moved to Florida; he was going to college down there. But that didn’t work out. Now she’s married to Larry. He’s a contractor down there. It’s a good job; they’re building up everywhere apparently. According to Kimberly.”
“Do you ever see Kevin?”
“Well, you know, when he got back, he came over here to see me. I’ve been here for years, since it was the Chicken House. And you know, he was all remorseful. He asked for my forgiveness and told me he had been all messed up on drugs and didn’t remember a thing, but he wanted me and my husband and Kimberly to know that he was deeply sorry and if he could take it back he would.”
“That was nice. But still doesn’t make up for what happened.”
Sally took the last drag of her cigarette before flicking it to the ground and squashing it with her sandal. “It doesn’t. No excuses. But I blame it on the drugs, really. I think he’s sorted himself out now. Would like to leave the past behind him.”
Antonia nodded. “You think people can change like that?”
“I’ve seen it happen before.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Antonia truthfully. “Do you remember him ever talking about the murder of Susie Whitaker? Did he say anything to you or Kimberly about it?”
“That was the rich girl killed out by the ocean?”
“Yes.”
“I know that he told Kimberly that he dated her. Frankly, I think her death is what sent him into his drug spiral. I know he dabbled before, but he didn’t hit the hard stuff until that girl got murdered. I think it made him crazy that everyone thought it was him. He told Kimberly they all knew who did it but they couldn’t say.”
Antonia’s blood pressure shot up. “Really? Who did he say did it?”
Sally smiled. “I don’t know that he ever said. He just said they knew.”
“Then why wouldn’t they tell the police?”
“I’m not sure. I think Kimberly said they were scared. It wasn’t worth it or something, because the person would just get away with it.”
Antonia thought about the picture of Kevin with Pauline Framingham at the Hampton Classic. They appeared awfully friendly in that picture. “Do you think anyone . . . rewarded him . . . for not saying anything?”
“You mean how can he afford that fancy garden center?” laughed Sally. “I think of that sometimes when I pass it on the way home. It’s pretty fancy. Although maybe he got a loan . . .”
“Maybe. Is it easy to obtain a loan when you’re a convict? Not sure.”
“Maybe he had a fairy godmother.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know . . . Kimberly always said that. Kevin had a fairy godmother. I don’t know what she meant.”
Could it be Pauline? Antonia wondered. What would be the incentive? Silence?
“Did Kimberly ever meet Pauline Framingham?”
“I don’t know who that is.”
“The girl whose house it was where Susie Whitaker died.”
“Oh yeah. No, I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure Kevin avoided that place. Too many bad memories.”
“Sally,” Antonia asked with urgency. “Do you think Kevin killed Susie?”
She sighed deeply. “I’d be surprised. I know what happened with my daughter, but he just didn’t strike me as the type to kill anyone. But then again, I would have never said that he would get physical with my daughter, and he did. Just shows you, people always surprise you. And not for the better.”
“Yes. Unfortunately they do.”
23
When Antonia returned home, she went to her apartment to read over Susie’s diary once again. She had primarily focused on the last few pages in the days leading up to Susie’s death, but perhaps she needed to revisit the early entries, especially since she knew that Kevin had been violent with a subsequent girlfriend. Had he ever laid a hand on Susie? Would she have written about it? If Kevin Powers had gotten away with murder, Antonia was going to bring him down and destroy him. How dare he?
Antonia paged through
the diary with renewed intensity and realized there were few things more mundane than the musings of a teenager. With all apologies to the dead, teenagers are self-involved, petty, and tedious. Sadly, Susie was no different. It was also incredible how much her emotions and opinions oscillated. One minute she was “obsessed” with something and the next minute it was “totally dorky.” But still, Antonia felt so much compassion for her, recognizing that even her childish musings were tragic due to Susie’s early demise. It was heartbreaking to read of someone’s hopes and dreams and to know that they never had a chance to realize them.
Antonia was about to discard the diary when the entry from July 5 caught her eye.
OMG. Really worried. We snuck out last night and Ambassador is P.O.’d like you never would believe. Normally I didn’t think he cared about that stuff, there is, like, no curfew here really but earlier in the night at dinner Pauline said we were going to the fireworks party, and he said it’s not for kids, and she was like, “We’re invited” and he said, “You cannot go.” I have no idea why, but he was really strict about it. Then they went out and we snuck out and I had no idea but they were at the same party and saw us! We tried to hide but when we got home Ambassador called Pauline into his office and was like, “I do not like the company you are keeping . . . bad influence . . .” I know he’s talking about me but it was not my idea to go to the party! Pauline wanted to. I even said we shouldn’t go. I hope this isn’t major and will blow over because I really don’t want to go back to Connecticut for the summer, it is SOOOO boring there. Ugh, so upset. Not to mention Pauline is mad at me, says her dad saw me at the party and if I had just followed her to the other side of the house he would never know. This sucks. Her dad is so scary and Pauline is just like him when she’s mad. I also wonder . . . her dad was talking pretty closely to that woman at the party and it looked . . . very intense. Maybe that’s why he didn’t want us to go?
Antonia put the diary down. There were too many loose ends surrounding Ambassador Framingham. She needed clarity before she continued her investigation and that would entail a visit to Pauline’s house. She had been avoiding Pauline since she learned that she had flat out lied about Susie’s mother. How would she confront her? She needed help. Antonia reached for the phone.
* * * * *
“You’re the bad cop, I’m the good cop, got it?”
“Relax, Bingham. You know I love role-playing.”
“Ha ha.”
“No, in all seriousness, I have no problem grilling this woman about her lying ways. I’m here to help.”
Antonia and Larry were seated in Pauline’s sunroom awaiting her arrival. She was apparently showering after a swim in the ocean. The visit had been unplanned, therefore they had to wait. Antonia had brought Larry to unleash on Pauline, allowing him to ask all of the controversial questions, so that she could come off smelling like roses, both professional and nice. She had apprised him of the latest revelations about Kevin while they were waiting.
“Sorry to have kept you,” Pauline announced as she strolled into the room, her hair still damp from the shower.
“It’s not a problem. I apologize for stopping by, but there were some pressing questions. This is my friend . . .”
“Larry Lipper,” he said, standing and jutting out his hand. Pauline took it with a skeptical look.
“Larry writes the crime column for The Star. I thought he could be useful, and he has been assisting me with his contacts.”
“Interesting,” Pauline said before sitting down. “So what was so urgent?”
Antonia started to speak at the same time as Larry, but for once she allowed him to take the lead.
“Well, first off we found out that Susie Whitaker’s mother is dead. So unless you are a psychic it’s not clear why you dragged her into this.”
Pauline squinted before responding. “I wanted Antonia to have urgency in solving this crime.”
“Why? What’s the rush?”
Pauline shrugged. “I’m tired of it. Ready to get closure and move on.”
Larry stared at her in a manner that would have Antonia squirming if she was on the receiving end. But Pauline returned his gaze without a flicker of emotion.
“There are a few more inconsistencies we want to clear up,” he said, whipping out his notebook and flipping through it. “You are one hell of an unreliable narrator! First of all, you said your parents were not home the week of the murder. We recently learned that your father was here the day before Susie was killed.”
Pauline shook her head. “Not true. My parents were in Europe.”
Larry raised his eyebrow and looked askance. “Miss Framingham, we have it on very good authority that he was here.”
“I don’t know who that authority was, but they are apparently not as good as you think. My father was abroad. I can produce his travel records in a few hours. All I need to do is phone the company.”
Larry held her gaze a beat. “All right, we’ll leave that for now. Seems as if Susie was terrified of your father.”
“He could be quite intimidating.”
“How so?”
“He was cold and harsh and a man of power.”
“Was he menacing? Did he ever get physical?” asked Larry.
“His weapons of choice were silence and withholding love.”
“Nothing else?”
Antonia watched without blinking as Pauline and Larry continued their question and answer session. It was similar to watching two champion tennis players volley at net.
“My father was a jerk, but not that sort of jerk.”
“You mean he didn’t hit you?”
“He didn’t hit anyone as far as I know.”
“Pauline, I’m sorry if this is indelicate . . . but was your father having an affair?” Antonia interjected.
Pauline swiveled her eyes away from Larry to glance at Antonia.
“Probably.”
“Really? With whom?”
“I have no idea. He was an attractive man.”
“Do you remember the fireworks party you snuck out to that summer?” asked Antonia. “I read about it in Susie’s diary.”
“Yes. That was a lot of fun.”
“But your father was mad you went there,” Larry insisted.
Pauline returned her gaze to him. “I wasn’t supposed to sneak out. He didn’t want me at that party.”
“Why not?” Larry asked.
Pauline shrugged. “He enjoyed making demands of his children now and then. His reasons were usually arbitrary.”
“Susie wrote that he was talking to a specific woman and perhaps he was mad you had both seen him?” asked Antonia.
“I don’t know about that. Maybe a lover.”
“Would he be worried Susie would tell your mother?” asked Larry.
“Ha, no. My mother and father were not possessive of one another. In fact, I have no doubt she was consorting with her best friend’s husband.”
Antonia was surprised at the turn this conversation was taking. If being rich was all about infidelity and your kids not liking you, then no thanks.
“Speaking of the diary,” Larry continued, “who were you having an affair with that had Susie all riled up?”
Pauline gave him an amused look. “You’re quite direct, aren’t you, Mr. Lipper?”
“It’s been the key to my success.”
“Undoubtedly.”
Pauline stared without speaking, holding Larry’s stare.
“So, who was it?” he prompted.
“I think we all know I was dating Dougie Marshall.”
“Yes, we all know that. But were you seeing someone else in addition?”
Pauline refolded her legs. “I had other relationships on the side. Neither Dougie nor I were what you would call faithful. We were teenagers, after all.”
> “And was there anyone in particular you were seeing that might have scared Susie?”
“Susie was frightened by a lot of people.”
“Yes, but in the diary you gave to Antonia, she specifically writes about one guy in particular who Susie believed had written her a note, who ‘scared the hell out of her.’”
“Does anyone scare you, Mr. Lipper?”
Larry appeared flummoxed. “Me? No.”
“Interesting,” Pauline said.
“But we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about Susie.”
“Yes, I know we are. But we are also talking about fear in general. What makes people afraid? What pushes their buttons? For example, I know that Antonia is scared of her ex-husband.”
Antonia’s jaw literally dropped. Like, to the floor. She had no idea Pauline knew about her ex-husband. A wave of fear swelled inside her.
“How do you know about him?” she managed to squeak out.
Pauline turned her eyes from Larry to Antonia. “I don’t just hire people willy-nilly without a background check.”
Antonia swallowed. “I guess that makes sense, but . . .”
Larry turned and gave Antonia a quizzical look. He started to say something, but Pauline spoke.
“He does terrify you, doesn’t he, Antonia? Your former husband.”
Antonia nodded. “Yes.”
“And what about you, Mr. Lipper? What scares you? And please don’t say nothing because it is only a tiny bit of legwork for me to find out.”
Larry didn’t blink. “I’m scared of the dark.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am. Since I was a kid. I don’t like blackness at all. Still need a nightlight. I have a Mickey Mouse one that I plug in next to my bed.”
“What about death, are you scared of that?”
“I think everyone is. But once again, Miss Framingham. This is all very fun, and I am loving this get-to-know-ya. In fact, maybe one day we can all come here late at night and have a séance. I’ll bring the Ouija board. We can try and conjure up your old friend Susie and ask her what she was afraid of. But right now, I’m on deadline for an important piece I’m doing, and I don’t have time for games. Could you please tell me who Susie was afraid of?”