by Carrie Doyle
“Hi,” said the man nodding.
“I work at the house next door. I think you talked to my friend the other day, the man from the newspaper?”
“Yes,” said the man cautiously.
“You told him you saw Warner Caruthers going through the bushes?”
The man cocked his head to the side. “I think I saw the man. I’m not sure it’s the guy who died.”
“What did he look like?”
‘I didn’t have a good look. He wore a baseball cap. He went through the bushes to the house behind.”
“Was that the only time you saw the man?”
“Your friend asked me that the other day and I said no, but I forgot something. Last week, and I’m not sure if it was the same guy, but a guy came out of the Mastersons’ house, then a girl. They kissed and the girl drove away.”
Antonia’s pulse quickened with excitement. “What did the girl look like?”
He looked up at the sky as if it held her picture. “Dark hair, skinny.”
“Long or short hair?”
“Long.”
“Well dressed?”
The man gave her a quizzical look. “I think she was wearing jeans.”
“Did you happen to see her car?”
He shook his head. “No. Just her.”
The pool man stood still, awaiting further questioning. He was carrying a large hose and several buckets. Antonia felt guilty putting him through the third degree.
“Thank you. You’ve been a real help.”
Antonia crunched back down the driveway. She felt a little bit better about herself as she now had a lead. A girl with dark hair had been spotted with Warner at the Mastersons’ house. A girl who had not yet come forward. The question was, why not? What did she have to hide?
Antonia noticed with dismay that she had a new nick on the side of her car door as she opened it. Her beloved Saab was coming to the end of its life. It had done her right all these years and she felt a little sentimental about it, especially since they weren’t made anymore. All good things come to an end. As she sat down she glanced in her rearview mirror and saw a black car lingering outside the hedges. Antonia quickly craned her neck to have a better look, but as soon as she did so, the car zoomed away. Her pulse quickened. Was she being followed? Or was she just paranoid?
When Antonia finally pulled into the inn’s parking lot, she saw Bridget’s car parked exactly where she had seen it before. Antonia must have been delusional when she thought she saw Bridget at the beach. She walked towards the back steps and took them two at a time, in a hasty effort to return to the kitchen for an early start at dinner prep. With everything that was going on these days, she needed to prepare in advance lest some stranger show up at her doorstep and demand her time. She opened the screen door but not before peeking back at Bridget’s car. She couldn’t help it; it was calling her. She was already behind, what did another minute or two matter? She ran back outside and rested her hand on the BMW’s hood. It was warm.
12
Joseph was perched in a green Adirondack chair by the garden. A pitcher of iced tea was sweating on the wrought iron table, alongside two glasses of crushed ice that was slowly melting. He was chatting with Hector, who pulling dead leaves off the carrots. A green rubber hose lay flat on the ground and emitted a small trickle of water onto the patch of dirt. The smell of damp earth hung in the air.
“Hector and I are excited to attempt growing Japanese eggplant. Last time I tried at my own house I was less than successful, but I know with Hector’s skill we will be a success,” said Joseph when he felt Antonia’s presence.
“Hector is the best. Last year the garden was bountiful.”
“Maybe too much zucchini,” Hector admitted. They had experienced a bumper crop the previous year.
“It was wonderful! I was up for the challenge. I had to devise so many innovative ways to prepare zucchini.”
“They were delicious,” said Hector.
“I should write a cookbook.”
“I’ve been telling you that for months,” said Joseph.
“Good idea!” said Hector, before gathering his tools and moving towards the back of the lawn.
Joseph squinted up at Antonia and smiled knowingly. The midday sun cast a strong light across the sprawling yard. Antonia plopped down in the chair next to Joseph. She began by detailing the dinner menu but quickly switched to filling him in on the recent developments. Joseph listened quietly. His only motion was to remove a cigar from his breast pocket and tap it against the arm of his chair.
“So, what do you think?” asked Antonia, when she had finished her account.
“I’m concerned. If you’re being followed, it’s now becoming dangerous.”
“I was afraid you might say that.”
“You have to be careful, don’t forget all that has happened to you, Antonia. Despite having a talent for detective work, you are not a trained professional.”
“I know, I know. And I am. But isn’t it interesting about the girlfriend? Do you think it was Bridget? She has long dark hair. She was seen with Warner. I’m going to have to ask her. It’s not very polite considering she is a paying guest in my inn, but there’s something she’s hiding. I’m sure about that.”
“It doesn’t hurt to ask. Just don’t accuse her, please.”
“Come on, I’m a little more subtle than that!” she chided.
“And don’t forget that most women have dark hair. It would be a little too easy for it to be someone who is staying right under your nose.”
“You’re right,” sighed Antonia.
“I have my own news,” said Joseph, taking a sip of his iced tea. “I did follow up on your email about Pauline Framingham, the pharmaceutical heiress from Warner’s documentary.”
“And?”
Joseph nodded. “Now of course I am familiar with the name Framingham and Framingham Industries. You’d have to live under a rock to not know who they are. In recent years they have not received as much press, perhaps because the family members are not as flashy as other billionaires, but once upon a time they were followed and remarked upon in the papers. When you said the name Pauline Framingham something rang a bell.”
Joseph paused to light his cigar.
“I’m dying here,” said Antonia.
“Sorry,” said Joseph, blowing a large puff of smoke. “I found very little on the Internet, so I went back to the old periodicals in the East Hampton Library.”
“And…” prompted Antonia.
“And I found a few slight articles about Pauline Framingham. Apparently, at the age of seventeen, she was almost tried for manslaughter for killing her best friend.”
“What?!”
“Yes. The charges somehow disappeared; of course this is going back thirty years ago when the rich and powerful were more powerful. I’m certain that the Framingham family had undue influence…”
“How did she kill her?”
Joseph ashed his cigar, turned and glanced at Antonia. “With a tennis racket.”
“You’re kidding?” asked Antonia, practically jumping out of her chair.
“The facts of the case are fuzzy. Pauline always maintained her innocence. The confirmed reports are that Pauline and her friend Susie were playing tennis on the courts at Pauline’s estate on West End Road. And this is where it got vague; Pauline said she left to get a pitcher of lemonade and when she returned Susie had been killed. But the police maintain that the girls had been sparring and Pauline whacked her friend on the head with a racket. They had a witness even. They did everything to coerce her to confess, even suggesting that perhaps Pauline was practicing her swing and the friend stepped behind her. Which is also not plausible, considering there was severe head trauma. But Pauline never confessed and the charges went away. However, the ‘cloud of suspicion’ has always hung over
Pauline’s head.”
Antonia didn’t know what to make of these revelations. She had not thought Pauline Framingham a serious contender in the murderers’ gallery, but perhaps the stealth kind are the likeliest suspects.
“This is becoming even more bizarre.” Antonia stood up and began to pace.
“The plot thickens, as they say.” Joseph lit his cigar and puffed away.
* * * * *
Antonia was so lost in thought pondering her next move that she nearly walked right into Genevieve’s new beau, Carl when she rounded the corner in the parlor. He put up his hands and clasped her wrists to prevent her from mowing him down. For a brief second it felt like a weirdly intimate exchange, with Carl so close to Antonia that she could feel his breath on her forehead. She took a small step back.
“I’m so sorry,” said Antonia, embarrassed. “I’m a little distracted these days.”
Antonia moved to drop her hands and Carl unwrapped his long thin fingers from her wrist. There was a certain elegance to his moves, as if he were a dancer. He was wearing a dark suit and a red and blue striped tie that Antonia had seen on a recent Brooks Brothers catalogue cover.
“No worries, I know those days.”
Antonia smiled slightly but must have given him a quizzical look as to what he was doing there because he quickly continued.
“I was just showing the house two doors down. It’s a real beauty, three story, shingled, diamond-paned windows, in perfect shape. Only the location is a bit of a problem for most people, right on the highway.”
“Oh, I know that house. It’s very pretty. Did the people like it?”
“Yes, actually they were very enthusiastic. It was a very wealthy couple from the city, he’s one of those hedge fund guys.”
“Well, that’s great.”
“I guess,” he said, looking less than excited.
“Are they being difficult, haggling over the price?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just that I don’t see them in this house. It’s all wrong.”
“How so?”
“They’re too nouveau. I don’t think they’d appreciate it ultimately. I know most realtors would love a quick transaction, but that’s not what is most important to me. I like to believe what I am doing is almost like matchmaking. I’d rather fit the correct family into the correct place. So that things may be in order.”
“Almost like feng shui?”
He shrugged. “Sort of. What I mean is that the universe makes up its own mind about things. You can’t impose yourself. Things have to happen.”
Antonia wasn’t sure what to make of Carl’s attitude. “Well, I’m just glad my realtor didn’t impose his opinion on me when I bought this place. I knew the second I saw it that it was perfect, even though it was in horrible condition.”
Carl glanced around carefully. His eyes moved over everything.
“And now it’s a gem.”
“Thank you.”
“Actually, that’s why I stopped by. I have a business proposition.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. The couple I showed the house to today drove all the way out here for the day. I would have liked to have shown them a few more houses but they had to rush back, which isn’t ideal. My thought was perhaps my real estate company could do some sort of arrangement with you here at the Windmill Inn. We promote your inn and in return perhaps our clients receive a discounted rate, something to give them incentive to stay here.”
“I’d be happy to look into that,” said Antonia. “What’s your company called?”
“Star Properties.”
“Hmm. I haven’t heard of that one.”
“We’re very low-key. We cater to a discreet audience.”
“I hear you. Well, I’d love to work with you. We have arrangements with several companies and we’re always looking for ways to generate business.”
Carl nodded slowly. He ran his fingers through his hair. “Great. I’ll run it by some of my colleagues.”
“We’re just getting ready for tea. Can I offer you anything to eat?”
“No, thanks,” said Carl. He pulled out his cell phone and looked at the time. “I should run. I want to stop by and see Grandmother before my next meeting.”
“Did you make an appointment this time?” Antonia said teasingly.
Carl smiled. “I tried, but there was no answer. I’m going over anyway to check on her. She hasn’t been feeling very well.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I got the impression before that she was in good health.”
“Well…there are some health issues there that she denies. And the fact is, she’s old. When you’re in your eighties it’s day-to-day.”
“True.”
“It’s sad to see people age. I don’t know what’s worse, losing them in their prime or when they can barely remember you.”
She sensed a flicker of unhappiness behind his dark eyes. Antonia didn’t want to mention that having lost both her parents, she could definitively attest that she would have preferred to have kept them on this earth a bit longer.
But before she could respond, Jonathan hastily entered the room.
“Oh, Antonia…” Jonathan began before freezing when his eyes fell on Carl. “I’m sorry, I’ll come back later.”
“It’s okay, did you have a question?”
Antonia noticed that Jonathan’s eyes flitted to Carl and a look of discomfort fell across his face.
“Just some wedding party details. We can discuss later.”
Before Antonia could respond, Jonathan hurried out of the room. Antonia turned and gave Carl a skeptical look.
“Do you two know each other?”
Carl wrinkled his face. “I didn’t know he worked here.”
“Yes, he started in November. My last manager moved upstate for the next twenty-five years.”
“I don’t really know him but I’ve run across him. I didn’t get the best impression.”
“Really?” asked Antonia with surprise. “What happened?”
Carl glanced up at the ceiling. He sighed deeply. “Look, I don’t want to go into details, and I’m sure he does a brilliant job here. Perhaps we just met on an off night. We took an instant dislike to each other.”
“I’m so surprised to hear that. He’s a wonderful person. I think you probably just got the wrong first impression.”
“I’m usually pretty good at reading people.”
* * * * *
After Carl left, Antonia sank into the velvet armchair. She wondered what Carl had against Jonathan. She hoped that it was some sort of misunderstanding. It would become very awkward if there was animosity between the two of them. Particularly since Carl had just expressed interest in a business relationship. It would be Jonathan who handled that sort of thing. When Antonia finally heaved herself off her plush pillow she was startled to discover that Bridget was seated in the large wingback chair on the far side of the room. Far enough to remain out of sight but close enough to eavesdrop.
“Oh! I didn’t see you there!” exclaimed Antonia.
“I hope it’s alright,” said Bridget evenly.
Antonia regained her composure.
“No, of course it’s okay for you to be here, you just surprised me. I thought we were alone.”
Bridget held her gaze but said nothing. Antonia bent down to tuck the lamp cords underneath the skirted table all the while feeling Bridget’s eyes boring into her. She had to figure out how to finesse the question of Bridget and Warner.
“So, what brings you to East Hampton this time of year?” Antonia asked.
Bridget appeared surprised by the question. “I work in fashion. I do location scouting for catalogues.”
“Oh, well East Hampton is a photographer’s dream. We have a lot of shoots out here.”
“I know, that’s why it’s tricky. I’m trying to find some new venues. I’ve been driving around all week.”
“Well, please let me know if you need help.”
“Thanks.”
“You know,” said Antonia. “I wanted to ask you about Warner Caruthers.”
“Who?” asked Bridget.
“Warner Caruthers?” repeated Antonia. “You were friends with him, right?”
Bridget placed a bookmark inside her novel and closed it. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
Bridget spoke carefully. “I don’t know anyone named Warner Caruthers.”
“Oh,” said Antonia not sure how to proceed. The room felt suddenly quiet. Should she press her? She was a guest at the inn and it really was none of Antonia’s business.
“You said ‘were,’” asked Bridget. “Is he dead?”
“Yes,” said Antonia. “Unfortunately, he died earlier this week.”
Bridget grimaced. “That’s horrible.”
Antonia watched her face carefully. She seemed genuinely surprised. Either that, or she was a very talented liar.
“I know,” concurred Antonia. “We’re just trying to locate the young woman he was keeping company with.”
Antonia purposely let her sentence trickle off. Bridget remained expressionless.
“Wouldn’t the police know?”
Antonia shook her head. “No.”
Bridget nodded. “I hope they find her.”
“Me too.”
Antonia paused, staring at Bridget. She’d done everything by the book: isolated her, studied her face for signs of stress, tried to pump her for information but still she received no reaction. For a second she wished Genevieve was with her so she could be ‘bad cop’ but she realized that was too aggressive. Joseph was right; there were lots of women with dark hair that Warner could have been with.
“Anyway, sorry, never should have brought it up. I thought you knew him. On the positive side, the news says we will have spectacular weather this week.”
Antonia picked up a vase of tulips off the coffee table and moved it over to the side table against the windowsill.
“That’s good,” replied Bridget. She watched Antonia carefully before sliding her marker out of her book and prepared to resume reading.