Death on West End Road

by Carrie Doyle

  “Antonia, you’re needed in the kitchen,” Jonathan said as he whizzed past her in the hall.

  “I know, I know. And today, Jonathan, I’m not going anywhere else. I am planting myself in the kitchen until the end of dinner service.”

  He gave her a quizzical look before responding with an encouraging, “Brilliant.”

  31

  There had been so much going on that Antonia had almost forgotten about her dinner engagement with Nick Darrow. Almost. She had no reason to call it a date, it was just friends breaking bread together. Yeah, right. She couldn’t lie to herself. In her pathetic mind, it was a date. But she knew that in his mind it wasn’t. Oh, how the heart can play tricks on you!

  They had agreed that he would pick her up Sunday evening and they would drive together to the restaurant, Inlet Seafood, as it was near the tip of Montauk and a good thirty minutes away. No use spending the car ride alone when they could talk in private, Nick had said, and Antonia readily agreed. She felt as if she was embarking on an adventure, and the fact that they were visiting a place removed from the hum of her current world emphasized that. That evening, she took time selecting her outfit and donned the casual but beautiful ruby-colored dress that Genevieve had given her for Christmas the previous year from Ralph’s resort collection. She took time with her hair and makeup and slipped her feet into low heels. She admired herself in the mirror and was actually quite pleased. She didn’t dress up often, but when she did, she felt well rewarded. That was what always frustrated Genevieve about Antonia: when she made the effort to use makeup and slip on a nice dress, she looked “stunning” in Genevieve’s words.

  Antonia had devoted the entire Sunday to the inn instead of her murder investigation. Larry had called her several times, but she didn’t take his calls. The Windmill Inn needed her attention, and she was not going to dip her toe into anything that could land her in jail. She felt like one of those teenagers who had dabbled in drugs and then was brought into a prison and lectured by hardened, tattooed prisoners and ultimately “scared straight.” No more crime for her.

  “You look great,” Nick said as he held the car door for her. His face bore a reverent look and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  “Thanks,” she said with fake nonchalance.

  When he walked around to the driver’s side, she quickly ran her finger over her teeth to make sure there was no sticky lipstick smeared across them. She remembered she had been on a date once and was drinking this sickly Georgian red wine (hey, it was cheap) and toward the end of the evening she went to the ladies’ room and her mouth looked like a cherry bomb had blown up all over it. She was mortified.

  The car ride went smoothly; they both kept the conversation casual and talked more about local events and current affairs. Nick kept stealing glances at her and a half-smile played on his face the whole time. The topic of Nick’s wife and what the heck Antonia was doing in his car was not addressed at all. That’s good, Antonia told herself. Keep it lighthearted. Sometimes the fact that she was able to elicit personal information from people with almost no effort worked against her. There had been times when people had confided in her and the next time they saw her they were embarrassed, so they avoided her like the plague. She had no desire for that to happen with Nick.

  Inlet Seafood was owned by six local fishermen and served the freshest fish on Long Island, almost all of it hauled in that day. It was sustainable, local, and ocean to table before those buzzwords and phrases were scrawled all over chalkboards in Brooklyn.

  “This is my favorite place,” confided Nick before quickly adding, “after the Windmill Inn, of course.”

  The restaurant was housed on the second floor and had panoramic views of the Long Island Sound. The décor was casual as there was no need for any flourishes with a vista like that.

  Antonia noticed again that when a celebrity entered a room there was an almost magnetic force that swept around every corner and changed the energy in the room. People noticed Nick, some greeted him, while others pretended he was invisible—regardless, he electrified the place. Celebrity was such a strange phenomenon. Antonia wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but Nick wore it with total nonchalance.

  “This is perfect,” Nick said as the waitress led them to the corner table and handed them the plastic-coated menus.

  “It is,” Antonia agreed. She glanced around the room and then froze. In the opposite corner, seated with her family, was none other than Alida Jenkins. Antonia’s first impulse was to stand up and run as fast as possible out of the restaurant. No way in hell did she want Alida to think that she was stalking her. How mortifying would it be for Alida to stand up and point and scream “Arrest her!” in front of Nick?

  “Everything okay?” Nick asked, reading the worry on her face.

  “Yes, sure.”

  “Are you sure? ’Cause you look like you just saw a ghost.”

  “No, I’m fine. Just someone I’d rather not see.”

  He looked in the direction she was staring. “Alida Jenkins?”

  “Yes, do you know her?”

  “Of course I know her. We’re both celebrities.”

  “Oh, of course.”

  He gave her a crazy look. “I’m kidding. Not all celebrities know each other.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “Antonia, what’s going on? Do you have a problem with Alida? Did she beat you out for a cover of Vogue?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Antonia, look. I am an actor, which means I essentially lie for a living. I can tell when someone is a bad actor, and no offense, but tonight you’re not winning any Oscars. What’s going on with you and Alida?”

  She sighed deeply and apprised him of her business with Pauline Framingham. The conversation lasted from edamame to the sushi rolls and through a shared brownie sundae dessert. The food was spectacular—Antonia particularly adored the Blackbird rolls which had the freshest tuna wrapped around shrimp tempura. She had a very hard time restraining herself from throwing them all down her throat at once. Nick was an incredible audience, firing questions at her, offering his own theories, and forcing her to reanalyze every clue she had uncovered. They spoke at length about Susie and Antonia had the feeling that she was describing a friend she had known well. She hadn’t realized how much Susie had attached herself to her soul and how protective she had become of her. She described Susie’s hopes and dreams to Nick in great detail, as if Susie had shared them personally with Antonia. She felt a sense of sorrow.

  “You can relax now,” Nick said as he swirled sugar into his coffee. “She’s gone.”

  Antonia turned and saw the busboy clearing the table where Alida had sat.

  “Yes. I don’t know if she saw me, but I didn’t make any eye contact.”

  “That’s good.”

  “And if you’ll excuse me, I will head to the ladies’ room.”

  Antonia had been dying to use the ladies’ room since the second glass of wine but had held off for fear of detection from Miss Jenkins. She walked down the stairs and peered around the corner, ascertaining that Alida was no longer on the premises. She went to the ladies’ room and used the facilities. When she was washing her hands, Alida Jenkins swung open the door and entered. Antonia was so startled that she panicked. She dashed to the stall and quickly slammed the door. After sliding the bolt through the lock she slammed down the toilet seat and squatted on top, silently praying for powers of invisibility.

  “Antonia?” Alida asked through the door.

  Antonia didn’t respond. If she held her breath long enough, perhaps Alida would think she had been hallucinating, like maybe she’d had a bad clam and it was causing blurred vision.

  “I know you’re in there.”

  “It’s not Antonia,” Antonia said in a high-pitched British accent.

  “Okay, you’re being really strange. What’s going
on?”

  Antonia’s pulse was racing. She didn’t want to say anything. What the hell did Alida mean, “What’s going on?” She was filing court orders against Antonia for harassment, of course Antonia was not going to run into her arms and propose they do Jaeger shots at the bar.

  “Go away.”

  “I need to talk to you!”

  “I love my freedom! I want liberty!”

  “What?”

  “I can’t afford to be hauled off to court.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The restraining order.”

  “Antonia, open the door. I promise I won’t have you arrested.”

  Antonia held her breath. This wasn’t happening.

  “Please, Antonia. I swear.”

  She was cornered. There was nowhere else to run. She glanced up to see if the ladies’ room contained one of those small windows that characters in movies always seemed to find conveniently located when they were ready to make their escape, but it did not. Reluctantly, Antonia dropped down from the toilet seat and allowed her feet to hit the tiled floor with a thud. She opened the door with shaking hands and glanced up at the tall supermodel with fear.

  “First off, I want to say I had no idea that you were going to be at this restaurant tonight. No idea. I didn’t even know I was coming here until I got in the car. I mean, I knew I was coming here, but to Montauk, not here, here. It wasn’t my choice. I wasn’t like, ‘Hey, let’s go to Inlet.’ And you can ask Nick Darrow, he will vouch for me. And he’s equally famous as you, so there is that famous person code.”

  “I didn’t think you were stalking me.”

  “Then why the restraining order?”

  “It wasn’t my idea. The Framinghams are very persuasive . . .”

  “You know, I keep hearing about how powerful the Framinghams are. I’m kind of sick of it. Did you ever hear of free will? Not everyone has to do what they say just because they’re billionaires or own a lot of stuff. You’re famous enough that I’m sure you don’t need that fragrance contract anymore. If you and all your friends banded together rather than running scared, I’m sure you could take them down. It’s getting kind of pathetic.”

  Alida smiled, despite the dressing down. “You’re right. But it’s not as easy as it sounds.”

  “I don’t see why the hell not.”

  “They’ve had power over all of us since we were very young . . . it’s hard to change the way you regard someone.”

  “What do they have over you?”

  “They know I was there the day Susie died.”

  “Did you kill her?”

  Alida shook her head. “No.”

  “Then what were you doing there and why does it matter?”

  “Maybe it doesn’t matter . . . it seemed to be such a big deal at the time and I lied and the lies kept perpetuating the next lies. I went there to meet Russell.”

  “Russell? I thought he wasn’t even there.”

  “Well, it turns out he wasn’t there. But he told me he would be.”

  “Why?”

  “He called me that morning and asked me to meet him at the house. Russell is very odd . . . but there is something refreshing in his honesty. He always told me how beautiful I was and that I should be the face of their fragrance. He was quite insistent on that. Pauline was less than supportive, needless to say. We were best friends, but there was always an undercurrent of rivalry. Maybe it was because it was Russell’s idea, I’m not sure, but she would shoot him down every time he mentioned it. I had a friend from work drop me off at Georgica Beach and walked over to the Framinghams’ . . .”

  “Why didn’t you just have a friend drop you at the house?”

  “I worked at a camp for inner-city and underprivileged kids. Many of the counselors were graduates of the camp. For some of them, it was their first time out of the city. I thought it would blow their minds if I were to invite them to the Framinghams’. I tried to be very lowkey at the camp and not let anyone know I was from a fancy background.”

  “I see.”

  “So I went through the street entrance rather than from the beach because the plan was to meet Russell near the guesthouse. I wanted to avoid Pauline. I had no idea she and Susie would be playing tennis; we were all so lazy that summer. Luckily she’d gone to fetch lemonade. Susie was in a bit of a tizzy when I saw her. She was upset because she and Pauline had been fighting and Pauline had asked her to leave.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Susie said that Pauline was becoming tired of her and ‘wanted her own space.’ Susie even made the air quotations when she said it. She was upset because she knew she had gone too far and overstepped her bounds as a guest, but she really didn’t want to go back to Connecticut for the rest of the summer. It was way more fun in East Hampton.”

  “How did Susie overstep her bounds?”

  “She said she had told Pauline’s mom something. And her mom got really mad.”

  “Her mom, not her dad?”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “But I thought the parents were traveling.”

  “I don’t know . . . it’s hard to remember now. They were always in and out . . . maybe it was when they called?”

  “Could be. What did she tell Pauline’s mom?”

  “I don’t know. She wouldn’t say, she was too upset. She regretted it. It was a bad decision, and Pauline wanted her gone. She was somewhat hysterical.”

  “Why did you leave?”

  “I didn’t have a lot of time . . . I had to be back at Boys Harbor for the awards ceremony. My friend had dropped me for a half hour while he went to get Chinese food in Wainscott—there used to be a place there, and he was craving it. I didn’t want him to wait for me, so as soon as Susie said Russell wasn’t around, I split—I ran back to Georgica Beach to wait for my ride back to camp. I know it sounds bad now, but I had no idea that she’d be murdered. She was always so dramatic and her feelings were constantly hurt so I thought her blathering was nothing. Obviously I would have stayed if I had any idea her life was in danger . . .”

  “Did you see anyone lurking around? Is that why you told me and Larry that you believed the murderer was someone from the street?”

  “No. But I thought if I could slip in there undetected then someone else could have. And that’s what I still think. Someone came in off the street and killed Susie.”

  “A stranger?”

  “I suppose that’s wishful thinking. But I don’t know.”

  “Why did Scott and Kevin take off? Has anyone threatened you?”

  Alida shook her head. “No one threatened me, I don’t know about them. I received an email from Russell asking me to stop communicating with you about the murder. Antonia, I think you should know . . .”

  “What?”

  Alida hesitated. “You’re not the first . . . I mean, Pauline goes on tangents every few years and stirs this up . . . It’s like picking a scab for her. She riles everyone up, makes us all stressed out, and then it’s over and she rewards us with something.”

  “I know there were other private investigators.”

  “Not only private investigators. She’s asked all sorts of people to do what you’re doing. Most are not as . . . thorough as you and abandon it. But a few years ago there was a guy asking around.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Just know that it’s not worth it. You have a life, don’t ruin it.”

  * * * * *

  Antonia was distracted during the car ride home. She had apprised Nick of her interaction with Alida and they had continued discussing the investigation. By the time they reached the inn, Antonia realized they had not even touched on Nick’s personal life or marital status at all.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t have a chance to talk about you. I pretty much dominated the conversa
tion,” she admitted.

  “It was great. It was so nice not to talk about me or think about my life. I loved the distraction.”

  “I’m glad to be of help.”

  “You are a great help,” he said. He put his hand on top of hers and pressed.

  She smiled at him, wondering if she should invite him in for a nightcap. Too forward? Making it too much like a date and not friends on a night out? Before she could say anything, he spoke.

  “My life is complicated and I wish it wasn’t.”

  “You’re just going through a rough patch. It will get better.”

  “I’m meeting up with Melanie tomorrow to discuss everything, so you won’t see me on the beach in the morning.”

  Antonia was disappointed but tried not to show it. “That’s great. I hope you’re able to work things out. I didn’t realize she was back in town.”

  “She flew in yesterday. The truth is, Antonia, I’m not sure we should work things out. I mean, I never wanted Finn to be a child of divorce. That would crush him. But Melanie and I don’t bring out the best in each other. We fight like hell. And can that be a good thing for a child?”

  “I can’t answer that, I’m sorry . . .”

  “You’re right,” he said cutting her off. “It’s unfair of me to put you in this position. But you know what it is?” He looked at her with that intensity that made her melt.

  “What?”

  “I don’t realize how bad it is until I’m with you.”

  “Uh, yikes . . .”

  “I don’t mean that in a bad way, sorry, that came out wrong. I meant that when I’m with you, we talk about interesting things—other than Hollywood. There’s no artifice. We are relaxed and happy. No drama. We’re good friends. I’m not friends with Melanie.”

  Antonia wasn’t sure what he was saying, should she read into it? Was he saying that he wanted more than friendship?

  “They say that’s crucial to most relationships.”

  “What about you? Are you still seeing that guy, the chef?”