Death on Lily Pond Lane

by Carrie Doyle

  “I guess it’s the perfect décor if you don’t really care about those things. The air is so salty down here, a magnet for mildew and mold. It’s kind of nice to not worry about that. I have to say, the inn and the houses I look after require a fortune to maintain the antiques and outdoor painted trim.”

  “Here, let me take your coat.”

  Antonia unwrapped herself and handed him the coat. She saw him take in her boots and linger on her breasts. She knew Genevieve would be proud of her.

  The living area was all one room with the kitchen at the far end, separated by a counter and two high barstools. Sam walked over and opened the refrigerator. He leaned down to glance inside and Antonia could see his back muscles rippling through his shirt. She watched the curve of his arm as it bent. She had formerly thought tattoos were tacky, but now she reconsidered. There was something sexy about them.

  “What can I get you? Coke? Beer? Coffee? Wine? I also have some good parmesan. I can whip us up some pasta.”

  “I’m all set, thanks.”

  Sam turned and stared at her. She felt a jolt of electricity. She parted her lips, but didn’t say anything. Sam got the message. Something had passed between them. He straightened up and closed the refrigerator door. He turned his back to her and opened one of the cupboard cabinets.

  “I have something perfect for today.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  Antonia walked towards him. He removed two mismatched glasses from the cabinet—one had a whale emblem on it, the other a crest of some sort—and took out a bottle of whiskey. He poured a generous portion into each glass and handed one to Antonia.

  “Good stuff here.”

  “It’s the middle of the day!”

  “Yeah, but it’s a rainy day. There’s nothing else to do. And you’re going to like this.”

  “I am?” she said, cocking her head to the side.

  “Trust me.”

  She kept her eyes on his. He returned her gaze. He smelled good, like soap and shampoo. Very clean.

  “Bottoms up then,” said Antonia, clinking her glass with his.

  She poured the liquid down her throat. It burned at first, but then a warm aftertaste filled her mouth.

  “Yum.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Good, right?”

  Antonia leaned against the counter. Sam was close to her now, the fission between them palpable.

  “How about another?”

  “Why not?” she asked coyly.

  He filled up both of their glasses. Antonia noted that he had filled hers higher than his own. She didn’t mind and reached out her glass and clinked his.

  “Wait,” he said, putting his hand on her arm to prevent her from drinking. “What are we toasting?”

  “Hmmm…I don’t know, what do you think?”

  “I don’t want to toast to all that bullshit like world peace and crap like that. Let’s toast to us.”

  “Yes, world peace is crap.”

  “You know what I mean. Nothing generic. More intimate.”

  “Refreshing,” said Antonia with a laugh. “Sure, to us.”

  Sam waited a beat before releasing his hand from Antonia’s arm. The spot he had touched tingled. She raised the glass to her mouth and swallowed the golden whiskey. This time it didn’t burn, it melted.

  He twisted the bottle on the counter so that she could see the label. “I got this baby in Scotland.”

  “It’s good,” said Antonia. The alcohol was hitting her now, flowing gently through her blood, and warming her entire body. “It melts in your mouth.”

  “It does,” nodded Sam. It was almost imperceptible, but he took a slight step towards her.

  “I like things that melt in your mouth,” said Antonia. She shocked herself when she said it.

  “You do,” said Sam. It was more of a statement than a question. “Me too.”

  Sam took another step towards Antonia and scooped her into his arms. His mouth found hers and she felt his soft lips pressing against hers. The kisses were gentle at first, soft and romantic. They slowly became more urgent, as if they both wanted to take as much from the other as possible. What started as a slow tango turned into a frantic cha cha. They took turns hungrily ripping each other’s clothes off, attacking one another with desperation, as if this was the long awaited culmination of a lifetime of lust. Antonia rubbed her hands over Sam’s chest and arms, tenderly caressing his rock hard body. Sam deftly lifted Antonia’s sweater, and used his mouth to sample everything she had to offer. After several panting moments, Sam grabbed Antonia’s hand and led her into the bedroom, where he pulled her down onto the sateen comforter and made love to her not once but twice, the thumping rain drowning out their moans.

  * * * * *

  They lingered in a dreamy haze. Sam had his arms wrapped around Antonia, his body pressed against her back. Antonia noted that their breathing had become unified, their chests rising and falling in harmony. After several more languid moments, Sam finally extracted himself gently and sat up on the edge of the bed. He was still undressed; his firm body completely exposed. Antonia remained lying down, her body now covered by the blankets. He glanced down at her, a wide smile creeping across his face.

  “That was really nice.”

  “I know,” agreed Antonia.

  Sam leaned over and kissed her forehead. Even though they had just been intimate, Antonia felt embarrassed that he was naked. As if sensing this, Sam pulled on his boxers. She watched with admiration as he slipped each muscular thigh through. He turned and stood up and walked out of the bedroom. Antonia fumbled for her thong, which she found curled up on the floor under the bed and quickly put it on. She retrieved her camisole on the bottom of the bed and donned it. She took a second to scan the room. She knew that it was only temporary quarters, but she wanted to glean if there was anything in the room that conveyed Sam’s personality. A biography of Abraham Lincoln was on the side table with a bookmark slid between the pages. There was a hamper in the corner overflowing with laundry. She noted boxers, button downs and a gray Union College t-shirt. Stacks of Sports Illustrated magazines were in a pile next to the bed.

  Sam returned with two bottles of water, one of which he handed to Antonia. He took a sip of water and kept his eyes on Antonia. She felt embarrassed, as if he had noticed that she had been checking out his stuff.

  “Any update on Warner’s death?” asked Sam.

  Antonia rolled her eyes. “No, it’s a mess.”

  “Have you told anyone about what you found?” asked Sam, taking a sip.

  Antonia watched as he drank. Everything about him was sexy. “You mean about the towels and the watch?”

  “Yes.”

  “Only Joseph.”

  “He’s the man in the wheelchair, right?”

  “Scooter.”

  “Right,” he said. “But no one else?”

  Antonia shook her head. “No. Why?”

  Sam shrugged. “I just don’t think it’s a great idea if people know we broke into the Mastersons’ house.”

  “Good point.” Antonia glanced out the window and realized the sky was becoming even darker with storm clouds. “God, I need to go.”

  She needed to dress but didn’t want to walk to the kitchen in her skivvies. She knew it was irrational to be modest now, after what they had just done to each other, but she felt self-conscious. Once again, it seemed as if Sam read her mind.

  “Your clothes are in the other room, I’ll get them.”

  “Thanks.”

  He returned with Antonia’s clothes and held them out to her. “Cool boots.”

  “Thanks,” she said, retrieving them.

  Without removing the sheets, she started to get dressed. It was awkward, and she felt slightly ridiculous, as she knew Sam was watching her.

  “You hav
e a great body, Antonia.”

  She blushed. “Yeah, right.”

  “Cut that out. It’s true.”

  “Yeah, well…”

  She had one arm in the sweater and one out before Sam jumped over on top of her. He pinned her arms down and pressed his chest against hers and stared straight into her eyes.

  “I’m not letting you go until you acknowledge to me that you have a great body,” he said, half teasing, half serious.

  Antonia tried to extract herself, but his arms were powerful.

  “Okay, Okay,” she giggled. “I have a great body.”

  He pressed her down harder in the bed. His strength was overwhelming.

  “Say it like you mean it.”

  “I have a great body!” she shouted.

  “Thank you,” he said, finally releasing her. “Now stand up, show me that kick-ass ass of yours, and get dressed like a real person.”

  Antonia did as she was told. He was right; she was stupid to be ashamed. It had just been so long since she had been with another man that she felt out of practice. Not to mention the fact that Sam was in such good shape, and was younger than she was. She went into the bathroom to refresh herself, and found Sam in the kitchen upon her return. He’d slid on his jeans, and was leaning against the counter reading the sports section of The New York Post. He gave her a bright smile when she reentered.

  “Well, this was fun. But duty calls. What time is it anyway?”

  “I don’t know,” he said with a mischievous smile.

  “You don’t know?”

  Sam pointed to the clock above the stove. “There. It’s three o’clock.”

  Three o’clock. Time to return to the restaurant.

  “I gotta dash.”

  Sam walked over and kissed her eyelids. “When can I see you again?”

  “I’m working tonight…”

  “Great, I’ll stop by.”

  “Don’t you need to work?”

  “It’s a weekend, baby. Day off. Tomorrow also. Maybe we can go to Montauk and prowl around.”

  “Sure.”

  He moved towards her and slid his hand down her neck gently. He pulled her in for a languid kiss. She hadn’t felt like this for a long time.

  “You sure you have to go?”

  Antonia nodded. As if to prove the point, she went over to retrieve her bag on the front hall table. She felt dizzy, but in a warm and cozy way. Nothing like an afternoon of loving to set you on course. She checked her phone quickly before closing her bag. There were a few emails but they could wait. Out of the corner of her eye, Antonia spied a dish full of miscellaneous junk. It held loose change, safety pins, a Golden Pear coffee card, and matches from Rowdy Hall. An unsettling feeling hit Antonia like a ton of bricks. She picked up the matches and held them between her fingers.

  “You smoke?”

  She turned around to face Sam. He had moved closer to her. He glanced down at the matches and shrugged.

  “Naw, I just grabbed those up when I was at Rowdy Hall one night. Been there a few times.” He put his hands on her hips and kissed her again. “Man, I can’t get enough of you.”

  A sickening feeling was growing inside Antonia. She pulled away slightly. “Do you frequent Rowdy Hall?”

  “I’ve been a few times.”

  “Did you ever meet Warner there?”

  Sam glanced up. “I don’t think so.” He stopped before adding, “What did he look like?”

  “You know, thin, strawberry blondish hair.”

  “I’m not sure,” Sam murmured. He bent back down and kissed Antonia again. She watched as his hands slid down her body. His watch-less hand. Antonia felt herself stiffen. She continued talking over his shoulder.

  “He got into a fight there one night. He was harassing an old guy from the Dune Club. The bartender was going to throw him out but someone else stepped in.

  “I don’t know.” Sam was kissing her neck.

  “Really? You never saw a fight there.”

  Sam pulled himself back abruptly. “Wait a second, that was Warner?” said Sam.

  “Yes…”

  “I did meet him,” he said with a shake of his head. “Or not really. The guy was a jerk. He was yelling at this old man for kicking him out of some place or another. But really mouthing off. I think he was wasted. Anyway, I told him to lay off, and he wanted to take me out to the back and fight me.”

  “Really?”

  Sam was pretty heated. “Yeah. He was a punk. But I didn’t have to lay a finger on him. He left when some girl showed up.”

  Antonia nodded. She felt slightly dizzy and didn’t know what to think. “Can I use your bathroom one more time?”

  “Sure,” said Sam.

  Antonia made a beeline into the bathroom and locked the door. She felt a sense of panic. Was it all just a coincidence? Sam met Warner. He had gotten into a fight with him. True, he admitted it; but only because she had found the matches. What about the watch? She had never seen him wear one, even when they were at Fresno and she asked him what time it was because he busted her checking out his ring finger. Antonia’s mind raced. She had to calm down and think. Surely, Sam wouldn’t kill someone over a bar fight. Would he?

  She suddenly remembered the T-shirt in Sam’s laundry basket. It was from Union College. Warner had gone to Union College. Antonia was nauseous.

  Everything started to come together. Sam wasn’t interested in her; he wanted to know what she knew. That’s why he kept showing up everywhere. Had he been the man in the bushes watching her? Oh God, and she had led him to the crime scene. Sure he made it seem like it was her idea, but was it? And then there was how he kept pumping her for information about the investigation. He was on to her, and she had her head so far up her ass, she had no idea.

  Antonia felt hot and clammy. She flushed the toilet to buy her some time and turned on the water in the sink to splash on her face. After dabbing her eyes with a towel and fixing her runny mascara she took a deep breath. What to do now? Just stay calm. Don’t worry. She told herself. The other side of herself answered with contempt: Don’t worry? You may have just slept with a psychotic killer, you slut! And now you’re in his bathroom and he may be sharpening his cooking knives getting ready to julienne you!

  Antonia put her hand on the doorknob. She took one last look at her reflection in the mirror. She would pass. Her eyes slid down to the sink and fell on the cabinet underneath. Something in her mind clicked.

  She went over to the cabinet and opened it. There was a toilet brush, three sponges and…a can of Lysol bathroom cleaner. Antonia wanted to throw up.

  Sam smiled at her when she returned to the living room. All she saw now was the cold sinister look of a killer. She had to get the hell out of there.

  “I’ve got to go, I’m really late.”

  “I’ll walk you out.”

  “You don’t have to!” Antonia practically screamed.

  Sam appeared startled. “It’s okay.”

  “I mean, it’s raining. It’s so nice of you, but I don’t want you to get wet.”

  Sam smiled. “I don’t mind.”

  He escorted her to her car and she gave him a peck on the cheek and promised to call him. Once she was sure she had the car started she decided to make a move.

  “I didn’t know you went to Union College.”

  “What?” asked Sam with confusion.

  “I saw your t-shirt in the laundry.”

  Sam looked up as if he was trying to remember. “Oh, my ex-girlfriend did. She gave it to me.”

  Antonia nodded. “The one who left you for another man?”

  “The very one.”

  Antonia didn’t say anything.

  “Maybe it’s time to get rid of it,” admitted Sam.

  “Maybe,” said Antonia.

 
“Where did you go? I’ll wear one from your college.”

  “Ha ha,” said Antonia with a fake playful laugh.

  She lurched back in reverse, narrowly missing a parked car, and pushed down on the gas, leaving Sam’s house in the dust.

  The rain was thick and Antonia’s windshield wipers were working overtime to scrape the rippling cascades of rain off her window. She had to drive slowly, with her lights on, in order to see clearly. The short walk to the car had chilled her bones: so she turned the heat on full blast. Antonia’s heart was doing somersaults. She had escaped from Alcatraz. What was she supposed to do now? She had to think. There were still so many questions…

  Antonia knew one person who may have some answers.

  24

  The small parking lot abutting CVS Pharmacy was glutted with cars. Rain was a catalyst for traffic congestion in town. Everyone became eager to escape their houses and scurried out to do all of the errands that they neglected when the sun was beaming. Antonia waited patiently while a harried mother in a yellow slicker loaded her bags into a Honda Civic. Her screaming child was locked into a metal cart, his fat legs thrashing against the bars with the rage of a prisoner on death row. It took an abnormal skill for the mother to keep him in place while hoisting the overstuffed plastic bags into the backseat of her car. After a solid five-minute effort she finally pulled out, releasing the parking spot.

  When the CVS electric doors slid open, the blast of air-conditioning that greeted Antonia was an affront to her damp and chilled body. How is it that stores get temperature control all wrong? She shook the raindrops out of her hair and brushed them off of her jacket. A quick glance at the front checkout counter revealed Heidi Levicky manning register five. If Antonia had any trouble envisioning Heidi as a clerk, it dissipated as soon as Antonia noted that Heidi maintained the bored cynical look that seemed to permanently adorn her face. As the line was snaking around in a U shape, Antonia decided to pick up necessities while she was here. She trolled the makeup aisle, selecting goodies that promised “thick, luscious lashes” and “sexy, pouty lips” After hitting the shampoo section, she made her way to the front of the store, which had cleared slightly.