Death on Lily Pond Lane

by Carrie Doyle

  She chose to change the topic. “Well, what about Melanie Wells? She’s beautiful.”

  Again, Sam shrugged. “I guess.”

  “What? Not your type.”

  “She’s fine, of course, beautiful, but she looks high-maintenance. She also could use one of those po’ boys we were just talking about. Don’t forget, I’m a chef, I like to feed people. It’s a total turn off for me when people don’t eat.”

  Antonia wanted to jump up and hug Sam. Take me to bed now! She thought. Okay, the silver lining was starting to emerge. “So, if she made a pass at you, you’d just be like, sorry, sweetheart, you ain’t my type?”

  “I don’t know,” said Sam with seriousness.

  “Really?” asked Antonia, shaking her head. “I thought she was a goddess to men.”

  “Not to me.”

  Antonia got the impression he wanted to dead end the conversation.

  “You don’t like to conjecture about that stuff,” said Antonia, feeling instantly embarrassed that she had even brought it up.

  Sam looked up from his beer bottle. “What’s the point? Melanie Wells is off with her husband and I am right here, exactly where I want to be.”

  His eyes bore into her with laser-like intensity. Antonia shuffled in her seat. “Would you like another drink?”

  Sam motioned to his bottle. “I’m all set.”

  The bartender had brought over the entire bottle of red wine before he departed and now Antonia took the opportunity to refill her glass for the third time.

  “I don’t always do this, you know.”

  “What?”

  “Drink a lot of red wine.”

  “That’s okay,” said Sam. “You’ve had a rough week.”

  “I know!”

  The wine had definitely made Antonia tipsy and she regarded Sam in a blurry light. He was so sweet and handsome. And that body. She wasn’t sure she had ever been with someone who had muscle definition. Should she just go to bed with him? It was amazing how benevolent alcohol made one. All of Antonia’s inhibitions were slowly falling by the wayside, replaced by a warm and cozy sense of lust. In the corner of her mind, she was still unable to completely erase the vision of her naked body against his rock hard abs. She shuddered despite herself.

  Sam leaned back. He had a drink straw in his hand that he had been fiddling with, and Antonia watched as he made a knot out of it with only his index finger and thumb. He definitely exhibited dexterity.

  “Antonia, do you want me to wait for you to close?” Glen had appeared out of nowhere. She glanced around and saw that the entire room had been cleared and prepped for closing. Only Antonia and Sam were slowing the process.

  “That would be great, Glen.”

  “No problem,” he said. He didn’t leave and Antonia could tell something was up.

  “Anything else?” she asked.

  “I don’t want to interrupt,” said Glen, his voice full of excitement. “But did you hear there was another dead body found right near the one you found? This one was on Lee Avenue.”

  Antonia’s face paled. “What? You’re kidding.”

  Glen held up his hands dramatically. “Don’t worry. It was an old lady. Like eighty something, died in her sleep. Natural causes. Was in poor health. Normally, wouldn’t be a big deal but in light of Warner Caruthers’ death, the town was in a tizzy! The police said it was nothing to worry about, but no one is having that. I tell you, people are freaking out.”

  “Who was the woman?”

  “Nancy something?”

  Antonia connected the dots quickly. “Oh my God, Nancy Woods?”

  “Yes! That’s it,” said Glen.”

  “I don’t believe it,” said Antonia.

  “Did you know her?” asked Sam.

  “Yes! She usually comes to afternoon tea. She didn’t show today... She’s lovely…well, usually. She can be cranky, says outrageous things and you can’t tell if she was joking. For example, she just had a birthday a few weeks ago and her entire family came, even ‘the undesirables.’ She actually said that. But wow, I know she was old, but this is so sad.”

  “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Antonia,” said Glen who did not look sorry at all. “But I just thought you should know.”

  “Thank you.”

  “The police had to close off Lee Avenue this afternoon because there were so many voyeurs trying to get a glimpse of the body being carried out. Next thing you know, riots on the street!”

  “Oh, don’t say that!”

  “Sorry. It’s two in one week, practically next door to each other! This is crazy.”

  “Don’t people die every day?” asked Sam.

  Glen crinkled his nose. “I suppose. But not in the rich part of town. This is major news.”

  When Glen left, Antonia remained deep in thought.

  “Are you okay?” asked Sam.

  “You know what, Sam. This makes me uncomfortable. I feel like I should go check on the Mastersons’ house. It sounds weird, but if there are all those people around…”

  She didn’t have to finish before Sam interrupted her. “Let’s go.”

  “Seriously?” Antonia was relieved. She did not want to go alone.

  “I’ll drive.”

  * * * * *

  Antonia directed Sam from the passenger seat of his blue 1985 Land Cruiser. She had the window rolled down and was inhaling the crisp air. She was already regretting the wine. That, compounded with the news of Nancy’s death, made her feel sick. She glanced over at Sam. He drove effortlessly and comfortably. That seemed to be his way with most things. Antonia had always been attracted to men who were passionate and volatile and somewhat on the edge. Sam didn’t seem to be like that. Maybe this was what she needed instead.

  The roads were dark “south of the highway”. Very few of the houses were lit off season, as this was summer people territory, and the streetlights were few and far between. The wind whispered through the trees and the branches quivered from its touch. Sam’s SUV was the only thing on the road as it zoomed towards its destination.

  “These houses are incredible,” said Sam, impressed.

  “If you didn’t hate celebrities so much, I would show you which one is Bon Jovi’s.”

  “Bon Jovi lives here?” asked Sam in amazement.

  “Yup.”

  “But I thought he was a Jersey boy?”

  “I suppose when you make that much money you can be both a Jersey boy and an East Hampton boy.”

  “Nice.”

  They continued up the road towards the Mastersons’ house. Despite the fancy addresses, not all of the houses in the Hamptons had gates or any other type of foreboding structures blocking entrance from the outside world. The split rail fence or the tall privet hedge was the most popular barrier. Most residents did as little as simply strategically place a few bushes and deep, lush trees on the property line. And if there was any sort of fence it was primarily to prevent deer, which had been attacking people’s gardens at an alarming rate, or to comply with the swimming pool laws, and not to prevent robberies. People were generally lax about security and the crime level was low in this part of town. That fact might have contributed to the police’s unwavering belief that Warner’s death was an accident.

  “It’s the driveway on the right, next to the red reflector on the tree,” directed Antonia.

  Sam made the turn. The car crunched over the gravel and the house loomed in front of them. The exterior was veiled in darkness. There was no timed lighting to give the false impression that someone was home.

  “Nice crash pad.”

  “I know.”

  Sam put the car in park. They stared at the house.

  “Well, everything seems okay,” said Sam.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “What, is something off?”


  “No, I don’t think so. It’s just…”

  “What?”

  Antonia turned to face Sam. “I just remember that when I first entered the house the other day, the day I found Warner, I had a funny feeling, as if something was off. And I sensed the same thing when I was in Eleanor’s room—she’s the Mastersons’ daughter. I had thought it was the footprints that Warner had left but now…I don’t know. Maybe I did see something else.”

  She thought of Eleanor’s room. She ran through the images of her frilly décor, the desk, her bed, her chair, but nothing jumped out at her.

  “Like what?”

  “I wish I knew. It’s been bugging me.”

  Sam glanced at the house. “What are you saying?”

  “I need to go in the house and check it out. Will you come with me?”

  Sam stared at her closely. “I’d love to.”

  “Thanks. Now stay here a second with the lights on and I’ll call you when it’s time.”

  “Okay.”

  The fresh air slapped Antonia in the face when she exited and she nestled further into the fleece that she had thrown over her dress. In the distance, she could hear the waves crashing against the shore. Her eyes darted around. The garage appeared tightly secured; the garden supply shed was also locked. The wind pushed some errant leaves across the grass. She walked over to the door. The police had not put a padlock on the door but instead a large East Hampton P.D. sticker ran across the hinges. Antonia knew she could unseal it with a penknife, that the police would rarely check, but that would be a blatant crime and besides, she had a better idea.

  She scurried alongside the house until she reached the laundry room. One of the windows was unable to be properly locked and did not signal the alarm when it was opened. Joan and Robert Masterson didn’t know this. However, their children did, because they were the ones who had rigged it years prior so they could sneak in and out of the house. Antonia had discovered it one wintry Saturday in February when the window blew open. She had mentioned it to Eleanor Masterson, who was at the house that weekend, and Eleanor asked her not to mention it to her parents and said she would take care of it. Antonia suspected that she hadn’t done so. She was planning on giving Eleanor another month to tell them, but once Robert and Joan were at the house for the summer she would give them the heads up.

  A planted fern was strategically plopped near the window and doubled as a stepladder of sorts. Antonia dragged the planter closer to the window and stepped on it.

  “Hey, do you need help?” asked Sam from the car. Realizing what she was doing, he exited the car and moved towards her.

  “I got it.”

  “Do you really think this is necessary? Can’t we just go in through the door?”

  “This way I’ll feel a little bit better about breaching the crime scene.”

  The window stuck at first attempt, but Antonia smacked it on the sides and it swung open. Bingo. She knew Eleanor hadn’t dealt. Antonia clipped off the edges of the screen and pulled it off, careful to retain her balance. Sam took it from her.

  “Steady now.”

  He placed his palm on her lower back. She felt like her entire body had received a warmth transfusion. Antonia put her hand through the window and felt for the cool surface of the washing machine. Pressing down with her hand, she swung her leg over the window ledge and hoisted herself in. Her legs splayed ever so slightly. She was glad it was dark so that Sam could not get a crotch shot. A wrap dress was probably not the right outfit of choice for this endeavor. Carefully, Antonia slid across the washing machine to the dryer, the red light on the alarm panel in the laundry room acting as her guide. When she reached it, she hastily punched in the code. At once, the red light turned to green.

  “Mission accomplished,” Antonia announced to the darkness.

  She leaned out the window. “Hang on a sec, Sam.”

  She jumped down off the dryer and felt for the drawer next to the sink. She opened it and removed two flashlights. After testing that they both worked, Antonia peered out the window and motioned to Sam.

  “Your turn.”

  Sam strode back to the car and killed the engine. Antonia illuminated the window for him and waited while he pulled himself through the window in one deft move. She noted that his ass looked very nice in his pants.

  “So, here we are,” said Sam.

  Antonia handed him the larger flashlight. “Let’s do it.”

  The house was chilly. A cold, impersonal draft hung in the air. Antonia followed as Sam led them out of the laundry room. The burst of adrenaline made her feel alert.

  “Go left.”

  When they turned the corner into the kitchen Sam stopped so abruptly that Antonia bumped into him.

  “What is it?” asked Antonia anxiously.

  “Sorry,” said Sam. He turned and patted her arm gently. “So sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just can’t believe this kitchen!”

  Antonia’s emitted a deep breath. “Sam, don’t do that!”

  “Sorry, but man, this kitchen is unbelievable! Are these people in the biz?”

  Antonia smiled. She glanced around, her eyes following the spots that were lit up by Sam’s flashlight. “I’m not even sure they cook. They have a private chef in the summer.”

  Sam turned to Antonia with a look of amazement. “Maybe I have to apply for that job.”

  “I know. Good gig.”

  With his flashlight lighting his path, Sam walked over to the massive Viking stove and ran his hand along the side of it appreciatively. He opened the oven door and peeked his head in, using his flashlight to illuminate all of the corners, before closing it gently. He lifted the fryer out of its resting place and stared at it before silently moving along the counters, surveying all of the kitchen equipment, including the wide array of appliances that met every need. He paused to stare up at the throng of copper pots hanging from the ceiling, as if lost in thought. Antonia watched him with pleasure. It was the first time she had brought someone here that would have as much appreciation for the professional kitchen as she did.

  “I’m feeling like a real hick,” said Sam finally. “I didn’t know people lived like this.”

  Antonia nodded. “And for some of them, this is not only their second home, but their third or even fourth.”

  Sam whistled quietly. He continued glancing around the room with wonder. For the first time, Antonia felt the age difference between them. It was clear that he was young enough to still experience marvel and allow it to show all over his face. Whether it was a factor of his youth or his lack of exposure to the world, Antonia wasn’t sure, but the raw genuine amazement he was exhibiting seemed like a sensation that Antonia had been denied for years. It made her nostalgic.

  “Look at these,” said Sam.

  He had walked over to the large chopping block that contained dozens of professional knives. He removed one and fondled the blade.

  “This is a beauty,” he murmured, his eyes locked on the knife.

  “I know.”

  Sam ran his finger along the tip of the knife. He returned it with reluctance.

  “Do you want to see the rest of the house?” Antonia asked.

  Sam glanced up as if remembering that she was there.

  “Yup,” he said decisively.

  Antonia poked Sam in the direction of the hall and accompanied him on the route that she took when she did her walk-throughs. Normally, the daylight would seep in through the endless windows and light her way, but tonight she had to find her way in the inky darkness, with only their two little flashlights assisting them. Antonia kept moving from room to room, but several times had to stop and retrace her steps when she realized that Sam was no longer with her. She would then return to the dining room or the living room and find him studying every element from the furniture to the framed pictures and pa
intings.

  Tonight, everything felt sinister. The portrait of the lady sitting on a bench that hung over the fireplace in the living room was eerie. Antonia felt the lady’s eyes boring into her with disapproval. She quickly left the room and returned to the hall. Antonia noticed the tracks that the gurney had left in the front hall carpet when they had carried Warner’s body out to his final resting place. They were so ingrained into the carpet that she could imagine their journey.

  “This house is hardcore,” said Sam softly, coming up behind Antonia.

  She turned to face him. “This has always been my favorite house, but tonight it feels creepy.”

  At that moment a car passed by and Antonia grabbed Sam’s arm and stood frozen. They both glanced out the windows, watching the car’s lights flash past. Once they ascertained that the car kept driving, their bodies relaxed.

  “I think we’re freaking ourselves out,” said Sam.

  “I know. Let’s go upstairs.”

  Sam gave her a concerned look. “You sure?”

  Antonia nodded decisively. “I’ll lead the way.”

  16

  The flashlights’ small circles of light danced across the striped wallpaper and curled around the banister. Antonia and Sam walked slowly and tentatively up the stairs. They paused when they passed the picture window. The moon cast sparse light on the covered pool, which was sealed still as a tomb. The iron garden furniture, stripped of its cushions until the summer, was scattered around the patio, ultimately ignored. The Mastersons’ property possessed a very narrow backyard. The neighbor’s house was situated so close to the hedge that one could see into its large second story windows. There was a light on upstairs, as well as several on the ground floor. She couldn’t see anyone. Antonia believed it belonged to a family named Harkin. It was another lovely old house, although bereft and run down.