by Carrie Doyle
“I know.”
Antonia sunk into her chair. “I wish I had never seen this.”
“I hear you.”
“Then why did you show me?” she asked, peering up at him with an accusatory look on her face.
“Because I need you to see something. Look, here is the picture of the court.”
Larry pointed to a panoramic shot of the tennis court. There was a policeman in the corner and Susie’s body lay in a heap by the gate near the fence. Antonia shuddered. It was so eerie to think that she had stood where Susie had died. How was it possible that Russell and Pauline were able to play tennis on that court? If it had been her house, and she had their money, she would have demolished it or moved away. And even if she didn’t have their money, there was no way she could play there. It was sacred ground as far as she was concerned.
“Okay, what are you inferring?” Antonia asked.
He slid his finger from the gate where Antonia had entered the court all the way across to the one next to where Susie’s body was found.
“I think her body was moved to make it look like she was at that gate near the back.”
“I’m sure the police would have noticed that.”
“They never mentioned it.”
“Okay, well, even if that’s the case, what does it matter?”
“I think it matters because it mattered to the killer . . .”
“Larry.”
“Come on, bear with me. I figured two heads were better than one on this. Why would the killer care where the body was found? What difference did it make?”
Antonia stared at the pictures as if they would give her the answer. “Maybe they wanted that intruder theory to be put forth.”
Something Hector had said about the intruder in the garden sprang into her mind. You had to look at it from a different angle . . .
Larry nodded. “I thought that. But I actually think, maybe Susie did see something and they wanted her as far away as possible.”
“You mean . . . what do you mean?”
“I don’t know. But I thought maybe you and I could go back to the court and have a look around . . .”
“Uh-huh,” Antonia said, shaking her head. “No way. I’m off this case.”
“Antonia, we are so close.”
“You are. You can be. I can’t.”
“Some detective you are! They really have you scared.”
“I admit I’m scared. Know thyself. If I don’t know who I am at this age, I will never know.”
“I love all the kumbaya self-awareness, but spare me. This isn’t a self-help group meeting. Get your pocketbook or the lady stuff you roll with and let’s go.”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t? Antonia Bingham, that’s pathetic. Look at this girl.”
Larry held up a close-up photograph of Susie Whitaker. Her eyes were open and unblinking. They appeared to be staring at Antonia and Larry.
“This girl is asking for your help. You need to finish what you started and help her.”
34
I can’t believe you talked me into this. We are insane.”
“We are not insane. We are vigilantes,” Larry replied.
They had parked in the Georgica Beach parking lot and were making the short walk on Lily Pond Lane to turn left onto West End Road. Antonia had insisted on donning jogging apparel (“You own that crap?” Larry had said when he saw it) so that in case they were detected they could plead that they were on an innocent power walk. It didn’t matter that Larry was wearing loafers and khakis, Antonia was indifferent to the possibility that he might be arrested and only cared that she might.
They strode past Grey Gardens, which was completely devoid of activity and stood in front of the Framinghams’ driveway.
“I’m nervous,” she confessed.
“Don’t be. You have your sneakers on; you can do an Olympic dash if we’re spotted.”
“Can we just walk past the property once so I can try and see if anyone’s home.”
“How are you going to see? There’s a full hedge and the house is two acres away.”
“Humor me.”
They walked slowly past the house and, indeed, it was impossible to decipher any movement through the sparse holes in the dense foliage. Antonia was nervous, and casing the joint was only making her more tense.
“Okay, can we sneak in now?” Larry whined.
“Give me a second.”
They had pivoted around and were lingering in front of the hedge to the house. She tried to peep through but she could only see flickers of the fence that surrounded the tennis court.
“Maybe if we go over here?”
Antonia crossed the street with Larry trotting along behind her and turned around to see if the view improved. Not really, she had to admit. She was wishing for some sort of super power that would allow her to see through foliage and fencing, but as hard as she tried, it was impossible. Suddenly a dark car turned down the street and was driving toward them. Antonia didn’t recognize the car, but squinted to see if she could make out the person driving it. As he approached slowly she had a feeling that he looked vaguely familiar.
“Quick!” Antonia bent down to pretend to tie her shoe and pulled Larry down next to her.
“Antonia, what the hell? Here?”
“I don’t want anyone to see us.”
The car drove past them and turned quickly into the neighbor’s house. Antonia sighed with relief and stood up.
“False alarm,” Larry said.
“That was close.”
“What are you talking about? You are making us suspicious by your wacky behavior. Seriously, Antonia. This is creepy. Look, there’s a mail truck down the road, should we load our guns? Is the mailman after us? He’s a federal employee, maybe he’ll arrest us.”
“I’m sorry, I thought it might be Pauline.”
“Geez, really. It’s only a next-door neighbor and I’m sure he didn’t even notice us, or hadn’t, until you made that bizarre jerky move. He’s on his merry way home, not paying attention to anyone else. He probably thinks we’re now fornicating . . .”
Antonia tuned Larry out. Her mind began spinning. It was something that Larry said . . . and suddenly a flood of memories came rushing back to her. All of the pieces of the puzzle suddenly fell into place.
Chester Saunders said: “I to this day don’t know how they got her lawyer there that fast, but he was there by the time I was.”
Pauline said: “I have a lawyer for every possible need.”
Dougie said: “She loves her lawyer; the guy is like her best friend.”
Eddie the gardener said: “In my opinion, it was Pauline’s fellow that did it. I used to hear them arguing when I was clipping the front hedges. They’d be up in that guesthouse going at it really hard. Screaming and yelling. Those two just love a good fight. I imagine they still go at it. Saw him storm out of there two days ago.”
Larry said: “I actually think, maybe Susie did see something and they wanted her as far away as possible . . . I think her body was moved to make it look like she was at that gate near the back . . . It mattered to the killer.”
It mattered to the killer where she was found . . . because he didn’t want her near his house.
* * * * *
“Larry, I know who did it.”
Larry was brushing grass off his shirt. “What do you mean? Who?”
“Follow me.”
Antonia charged across the street. Larry trotted after her. “Where are you going? Who did it?”
Antonia kept up her brisk pace. Instead of veering left toward the Framingham house, she marched into the neighboring property and began walking up the stone driveway toward the enormous modern white house that sat on the cusp of the dune. As she strode toward the manor she passed a guesthous
e on her left that abutted the Framinghams’ property.
“Antonia, where are we going? Whose house is this?”
“I’m pretty sure it belongs to Tom Schultz.”
“Tom Schultz, Tom Schultz, that name is familiar.”
“Pauline’s lawyer. The Framingham family’s lawyer who pulled the plug on our investigation.”
“Are you sure you want to go here? Isn’t he the guy filing restraining orders against you? One second you’re all paranoid and the next you’re a badass Nancy Drew. I can’t follow your journey.”
Larry was out of breath keeping up with her so his words came out between heaving gasps. Antonia didn’t answer. Her heart was beating quickly, but adrenaline was pumping wildly throughout her body. As she approached the house she spied two dark sedans parked in front. A glance to her right revealed a three-car garage. She would bet her life that inside was the car that had been used to sideline Dougie Marshall.
Antonia climbed the steep slate steps and pressed on the bell firmly. Two large glass windows flanked the door and Antonia peered inside. There was a cold marble floor and a large white canvas on the wall featuring several black blobs that Antonia was certain cost a fortune. She never could understand modern art. She turned and surveyed the grounds from her aerie. A thin lap pool was tucked into the far side of the property, and a flower garden further beyond. The front door swung open and Antonia spun around. Pauline Framingham was standing on the threshold, dressed somewhat formally as if she were preparing to head to the city. A small smile curled around her lips when she saw who had arrived.
“What the hell!” Larry said. “I thought you lived over there.”
Pauline ignored him. “Hello, Antonia.”
“Hello, Pauline.”
“Won’t you come in? I was wondering how long it would take you to find us.”
She led them in silence through the cold hall to the cavernous living room that was awash in light. One wall made entirely of glass offered an incredible view of the crashing waves and surf. The brightness of the ocean was reflected by the whiteness of the house, rendering the few colors almost psychedelic. Antonia had assumed she preferred old houses but now she thought there might be something to be said about trading teardowns for modern. Why look through itty bitty little window panes when you could have an entire wall of view? Although there was something antiseptic and noxious about the place, Antonia recognized. Probably due to the people who lived there. On a large low-slung white sofa that wrapped around half the room sat Pauline Framingham’s lawyer, Tom Schultz. He didn’t bother to stand up when they entered.
“Antonia, Larry, why don’t you sit over there? Tom and I were having a chat.” Pauline gestured to the seating area.
Antonia’s heart was pounding with the surge of confidence she felt now that she had pieced it all together. She was not willing to let Pauline have the upper hand. But she was what they call “a man without a plan” and was scrambling to figure out what her next move would be. In the meantime, she perched herself in a modern black leather chair while Larry was swallowed up by the alternative seating option: a giant bubble swing that hung from the ceiling. He was so short his legs hung off the end.
Tom Schultz appeared tense and drawn. Crinkly dark bags hung sloppily under his eyes and his jaw was set in a defensive lock. He wore a monochrome suit and no tie and looked out of place in the surroundings. In one hand he clasped a cocktail and made no movement other than to divert his eyes to Pauline’s to give her a gloomy stare.
“Well, Tom, it appears the cat is out of the bag,” Pauline said merrily. She sat down on the other edge of the sofa and picked up her wineglass. “Cheers!” she said, before draining it.
Tom shot her an irritated look. “Pauline, shut up.”
“Can someone fill me in?” Larry begged, slowly starting to pump his swing back and forth. “I’d like to know what we are celebrating.”
“Tom Schultz and Pauline are lovers. They have been for decades,” Antonia said with certainty.
“Bravo,” Pauline said.
“This is true?” asked Larry. “How did you figure it out?”
“Yes, Antonia, do tell us,” Pauline commanded.
“Honestly, I’m surprised it took me so long. Everyone was dropping clues all along—about how important your lawyer was to you, how your lawyer was your best friend, your lawyer was here immediately to defend you as soon as Susie was killed. I was distracted by ‘the lawyer.’ I thought of the profession—and honestly, I thought of a team of lawyers all in one amalgamation. Maybe if someone had called him by name it would have come to me earlier. If they had all said ‘Tom was there’ or ‘Tom is her best friend.’ But they didn’t. He was just a nameless, faceless person. And it would have been easier if I knew he was your next-door neighbor. But I was too busy wasting my time investigating the list of people that you asked me to talk to . . .”
“It’s always fun to keep my friends in line,” Pauline said.
“First of all, that’s sick, Pauline,” Larry said with disgust. “And second of all, do they all know? Alida? Scott? Did Dougie and Susie know?”
“I think everyone else knew they were together or suspected but they had all been given things and threatened over the years so they were too scared to say anything. Am I right?” Antonia asked Pauline.
“More or less.”
“And Susie?” Larry asked.
“Susie knew and didn’t approve,” Pauline admitted between sips of her drinks. “Susie should have just stayed out of it. She infuriated Tom! Of course he didn’t need to kill her . . .”
“Do you even hear yourself?” Antonia asked. “Susie was your best friend. She knew you were in over your head. She was acting in your best interests, Pauline. And this is how you repay her?”
“I didn’t do anything!” Pauline snapped.
“You’re right. You didn’t do anything. And she was killed,” Antonia reprimanded. “And you’ve covered it up for years.”
It enraged Antonia to think of Susie being killed for being a good friend.
“Why did you kill her?” Larry asked Tom. “Was that really necessary?”
“She was a brat. She wouldn’t listen to me. I told her to stay out of it, I threatened her, but she ran to the Ambassador and told him everything! I had to do damage control,” Tom said flatly, and without remorse. He was too caught up in the indignity that he suffered to realize how insane he sounded.
“But the Ambassador already suspected the truth,” Antonia interjected. “That’s why he forbade Pauline and Susie from attending the firework party—the Schultz firework party. Susie wrote about it in her journal. She said when she went, she saw the Ambassador having a heated conversation with a woman at the party and I conjecture that it was with Tom’s wife, who was, no doubt, as distraught about the affair as he was.”
“You’re married?” Larry asked.
Tom glared at him. “Of course. I love my wife very much.”
Antonia walked over and picked up a silver-framed picture that was on a side table. It was of Tom and a woman beaming from a yacht. Antonia squinted and looked at it closely. A flash of recognition sparked in her brain. It was the woman jogger who Antonia had met on the beach. “Your wife tried to warn me about Pauline.”
“Leave my wife out of this,” demanded Tom.
Pauline’s face contorted with rage and she spat, “Your wife has always been in this, Tom! If you would just leave her we could move forward! I’m tired of being second fiddle, you have manipulated me for too long! Telling me you’ll leave her, begging me to remain with you, then jerking me around.”
“Pauline, calm down. Let’s stop this,” Tom said.
Pauline ignored him. “Go on, Antonia, I’m loving this.”
“I think the Ambassador warned Pauline and Tom to end it. He left for Europe. When they called home to check in, Sus
ie told Pauline’s mother that the relationship was still on. Tom was enraged and murdered Susie. When the Ambassador returned, he couldn’t dismiss Tom as his lawyer because Tom convinced him that Pauline had murdered her best friend and he and only he could save her.”
“Yes, Tom is quite the manipulator,” conceded Pauline.
“For a brief time I thought it was your father who had killed Susie, having returned from Europe. But that was because Holly had said she heard ‘them’ in his office. But it wasn’t ‘them’ she heard. She saw Tom come over and assumed he was meeting with the Ambassador. But he was meeting with you in the office.”
“Very good,” Pauline prompted.
“You know, I couldn’t understand how a woman as attractive and smart as you had remained single all these years,” Antonia admitted to Pauline. “But now it makes sense. You were seeing Tom. And every time you become tired of Tom not leaving his wife you make up a little diversion to rattle him.”
“I need to keep him in line.”
“But how do you know it was Tom and not Pauline who murdered Susie?” asked Larry.
“It was a violent crime. I remember what Kevin Powers said: ‘I never thought Pauline would be so aggressive and bash her best friend’s head in.’ This from a guy who has a record of aggression. I guess it takes one to know one.”
“It’s true. I would never do that,” Pauline said.
“I wasn’t completely sure until now. I know that Tom hit her until she died. But you are just as complicit, Pauline. You are as guilty as if you had done it yourself. How could you do that to your best friend? How could you let Susie die? And never even tell who did it?”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Pauline responded. “Tom has always been obsessed with me. He will do anything for me, to have my love. Anything but leave his wife and marry me.”
“Don’t you feel shame?” Larry asked. “This guy is a monster.”
“And now he also killed Dougie . . .” Antonia added.
Tom began clapping slowly but forcefully. “Enough of this. Well done, Miss Bingham. You cracked the case.”
“I wish I could say thank you, but I feel no joy in this resolution. I wish I could bring Susie back.”