Death on West End Road

by Carrie Doyle

  “You found the answer and now off you go!” he sneered.

  “I think you mean, off you go,” said Larry.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  Tom stood up, knocking over his cocktail so that the glass goblet shattered all over the cold stone floor. In his hand he held a gun, which he aimed at Antonia. He turned and glared at Larry. “Get over there next to her.”

  Larry stopped pumping his swing and put his hands up, trying to extricate himself from the bubble. “Now, now, we can talk this through . . .”

  “Shut up!” Tom commanded.

  “Tom, this is so boring, what are you going to do, kill them?” Pauline said drily, as if she were asking him the most mundane question in the world.

  “Yes, I am. And I’m also going to kill you.”

  Pauline laughed a wicked laugh. She took another sip of her drink. “Oh, please, Tom . . .”

  Before she could finish the gun exploded. Antonia dropped to the floor her hands covering her head. Larry cowered beside her.

  “I told you to shut up!”

  Antonia peeked up and spied Tom, his face enraged and sweaty. She snuck a look to her right and saw Pauline lying on the floor. Blood was trickling from her shoulder. Antonia braced herself, her entire being consumed with fear. She had to do something, think fast, Antonia. Tom began walking toward her, she could hear his footsteps on the floor as if they were blasting bombs. Was he going to shoot her execution style? How had it come to this?

  “You’re next, bitch!”

  She felt the cold nozzle press against her head. Then there was a loud explosion, almost like a superhuman roar. Antonia waited. Was she dead? She didn’t feel pain. She glanced up. Light was streaming through the windows. Heaven? No. Larry had taken a swan dive into Tom, knocking the gun out of his hand and was now wrestling him on the floor.

  “Larry!”

  “The gun, Bingham. Grab the gun!”

  Antonia slid herself along the floor and clasped her hands around the heavy metal gun. She had never held one before and her hands were shaking. She aimed the gun at Tom.

  “Okay, Larry, I got it.”

  In an expert move, Larry whipped off his belt and spun Tom onto his stomach on the floor. He dug his knee into him as he tied Tom’s hands together with his belt. When he was finished he jumped up and took the gun from Antonia’s wobbly hands.

  Antonia rushed over to Pauline, who was gasping for air. She grabbed a throw blanket that was on the sofa and pressed it against her shoulder, where the bullet had landed. Pauline was trying to say something to her, and Antonia could barely make it out. She leaned closer. Maybe she would hear some words of remorse from Pauline, for all of the death and destruction that she had unleashed. Maybe Pauline would finally acknowledge how bitterly she had betrayed her friend Susie and then retreated back into her vast wealth and all the armor that came with it in her personal fortress.

  “Pauline, what are you trying to say?”

  Antonia leaned closer.

  “He doesn’t deserve me,” she finally choked out, before losing consciousness.

  35

  The police arrested Tom Schultz and he was charged with two murders: Susie Whitaker’s and Dougie Marshall’s. Officer Flanagan told Antonia he was pretty certain they’d nail him on Dougie’s but Susie’s would be harder to prove. Antonia dearly hoped that Schultz would be brought to justice and convicted of her death so Susie could finally rest in peace. It wasn’t a lot to ask.

  Pauline recovered, was eviscerated in the press, and took off for Europe. Antonia wasn’t sure she would ever see her again, and was happy if that was the case. She did receive a check from the Framingham family trust asking her to cover the cost of Dougie’s memorial service. Antonia hoped that somewhere in the bowels of Pauline’s polluted heart she had a conscience.

  Kevin Powers, Scott Stewart, and Holly Wender crawled out of hiding and returned to their lives in East Hampton, as did Alida. All of the people that Pauline had cast a shadow over with her reckless and selfish ways were happy to have her gone. Despite the intense interest by the press, none of them chose to comment on the story. They were finally free of a decades-old burden and able to lift themselves out of the tragedy.

  Larry glued himself to his computer and began writing his account of the investigation with himself as the sole investigator. (Antonia asked him to leave her out of it, and he readily agreed.) Genevieve returned to her dating scene and Joseph returned to the library.

  Antonia returned her focus to the inn and the restaurant but had some loose ends to tie up before she could be completely focused. The first was her lunch with Bridget, an engagement that they were both tentative about. Antonia decided to keep it casual, and made up some Pierre Robert cheese and tomato tarragon sandwiches and packed a Greek salad and brownies and they met on the beach for a picnic. They were both hesitant and kept the conversation lighthearted. Antonia was not ready to ask Bridget any questions about her experiences with their father, a sentiment Bridget seemed to intuit. But they actually liked each other, and promised to stay in touch and try to build a relationship. In fact, they had plans for a call later in the week to discuss what to do about Philip when Bridget returned home.

  Dougie Marshall’s memorial service at the inn was a depressing affair. With Pauline out of the country, the lone person Antonia knew was Alida, who made a brief cameo. The crowd was preppy and the only insight Antonia had into them was that they were heavy drinkers as it was the highest daytime bar bill she had ever seen. She felt guilty about Dougie, as if she had caused his death, which she inadvertently had. It would take her a while to reconcile that fact. The sad truth Antonia had learned in the past year was that the fallout from murder was more death.

  Antonia kept her word and accompanied Kendra to the Instagram ceremony at Wölffer. She saw Sam from a distance and was surprised that she had forgotten how good-looking he was. She was about to approach him when a young blond came over and entwined her arm with his. It was clear they were a couple. Always the chicken, Antonia ended up waving at him and keeping her distance on the other side of the tent. She could have sworn she saw Sam watching her out of the corner of her eye several times, but she left before they ever had a chance to interact. She felt a tinge of sadness that their relationship had been fleeting.

  Nick Darrow stopped by the inn a few days after their dinner and surprised Antonia in her office as she was doing some long overdue paperwork.

  “I hope I’m not bothering you.”

  Antonia glanced up from her desk. She put down her pen atop the check she was signing and motioned for him to sit down. “Not at all.”

  “I heard about Pauline Framingham and the lawyer. Good job solving another crime.”

  “I can’t take credit for that . . .”

  “You’re too modest.”

  “Okay, I’ll take some. But it was a boiling kettle. Only a matter of time before it exploded. Pauline wanted everyone to know, she’d had enough of her twisted relationship with Tom Schultz.”

  “I can relate.”

  Antonia cocked her head to the side. “How are things with Melanie?”

  “Not good. It’s not going to work.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “It is what it is. Meanwhile, we have to really put on our best acting because we have to return to Australia tomorrow to finish the movie. It’s going to be very difficult pretending to be in love with her for the big screen.”

  “That’s why you get paid the big bucks.”

  “True.” He ran his hand through his thick hair. “Listen, Antonia. I’m gone a few weeks, then I need to head to L.A. to do another film, but not for too long. Hopefully I’ll be in a better place when I’m back.”

  “I hope so too.”

  “And I want to stay in touch. Can we email? I know you’re a bit of a Luddite. Or maybe we
can write letters?”

  “Let’s do that. I have a box full of stationery that I am desperate to use.”

  “Sounds good.”

  He stood up and walked to the door. Antonia felt as if he was dragging her heart with him. He slowly turned around and stared at her.

  “When I’m back, maybe . . . maybe things can be different. Between us, you know.”

  She knew what he meant and felt herself melting. “Sounds good,” she said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Before she could suppress the sad emotions that his departure was conjuring up in her soul, he had crossed the room and come around behind her desk. She stood and his arms were around her, tightly enfolding her into his body. He pressed her toward him and kissed her, gently at first, and then with increasingly firm intensity that caused all of the blood to drain from her body and left her weak and dizzy. There was an urgency in his gesture that evoked sensations she had never felt before. It was a dream-come-true kiss, one that she had only dared to envision in her most hopeful and unrealistic fantasies where she felt like a heroine swooped in on by the hero. And yet it was happening. The kiss escalated, and she felt herself leaning further and further into him, until he finally broke away.

  He stared at her for a beat before he spoke.

  “Wait for me,” he commanded.

  He was out the door before a dazed Antonia could respond. She flopped down into her desk chair for what seemed like hours, staring into space. I will.

  * * * * *

  “This is how I like it,” Antonia sighed one evening a week later as she settled in for a nightcap with Joseph in the library at the inn. “No drama.”

  They had driven to Connecticut via the ferries that morning to place a bouquet of daisies on Susie Whitaker’s grave. Alida had told Antonia that those were Susie’s favorite, and Antonia agreed that Susie seemed like a daisy sort of person: cheerful, simple, and forever young. Susie was buried in a field next to her parents in a small country cemetery. Under her name it said “Beloved Daughter, Beloved Friend.” Antonia thought of Pauline’s earlier comment that the dates on a gravestone marking birth and death were ultimately the least relevant dates of your life. She agreed that it was true. It was all the days in between that mattered and it was those days that she wanted Susie to be remembered for. She deserved at least that. As Antonia and Joseph were leaving a breeze blew up and spread the flowers all across the plot. Antonia took it as a sign that Susie knew they were there and was just maybe thanking them.

  The days in East Hampton were becoming shorter and a chill had settled into the night air. The end of summer was on the horizon and Antonia knew that the quieter fall was soon to come.

  Antonia smiled at Joseph over the rim of her glass then spoke. “Guess what? I received an email from Giorgio Leguzzi. He and Elizabeth are having a fantastic time in Italy.”

  She didn’t mention that she had also received a letter from Nick Darrow, full of funny observations about his film set and including his latest rantings on the world at large. She had reread it over and over until the paper was worn. She would wait for him. She was waiting for him. Was it possible a new life would start for them? She couldn’t even imagine. But that kiss was keeping her going; it was the fuel that charged her every waking moment.

  “Lovely to hear, my dear.”

  “You know, I think I might switch to matchmaking rather than crime solving. It’s so much more pleasant, don’t you think?”

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea!”

  “Yes, I agree. I’m officially retired from sleuthing. Give me love over death any day!”

  “I’ll drink to that, my dear,” agreed Joseph, gently clinking his glass against hers.

  *

  The End

  About the author

  Carrie Doyle is a best-selling author who lives in New York City and East Hampton with her husband and two sons.

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  Also by Carrie Doyle (writing as Carrie Karasyov):

  The Right Address

  Wolves in Chic Clothing

  The Infidelity Pact

  Bittersweet Sixteen

  Summer Intern

  Jet Set

  Check out these other thrilling Hamptons Murder Mystery books:

  Please visit dunemerebooks.com to order your next great read or just to hang out with Antonia and hear what she says about the Hamptons!

  Published by Dunemere Books

  Copyright © 2017 by Caroline M. Doyle

  www.dunemerebooks.com

  www.carriekarasyov.com

  Cover illustration © 2017 by Jill De Haan

  www.jilldehaan.com

  Book and cover design by Jenny Kelly

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  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  ISBN: 978-0-9972701-7-4