Death on Windmill Way

by Carrie Doyle

  “Yes, Matty is an EMT,” said Sylvia, explaining to the group. “He was supposed to be here tonight, but he had a fire to put out. Literally. He’s a good boy.”

  “He is. A dutiful son, wouldn’t you say?” asked Antonia.

  Before Sylvia could answer, Len interrupted. “What is that supposed to mean? I’m not sure I’m following here…”

  “I’m just saying that Matt adores you and would do anything for you.”

  “What son wouldn’t?” asked Len.

  “I agree. Now Len and Sylvia, I’m thinking back to that dinner a week ago. You were so complimentary, and I continue to be so gratified by your support.”

  “Thank you,” said Sylvia.

  “I think you said that you had stopped coming to the Windmill Inn when Gordon Haslett ran it because the food was terrible.”

  “Dog food,” concurred Len.

  “Hey…” interjected Barbie.

  “You’ll have your turn,” murmured Joseph, temporarily placating her.

  “The interesting thing is that you said that you had stopped coming to the inn. But Matt corrected you. He said, and I quote, ‘You didn’t really have a choice.’ I thought nothing of it at the time…”

  “What are you suggesting?” asked Len.

  Antonia walked around the table so that she was now facing them. She put her arms on the backs of the chairs in front of her and leaned across the table toward Len and Sylvia.

  “Len, isn’t it true that in addition to being the Head of Security at the Dune Club, you are also a building inspector in the village of East Hampton?”

  “I am…”

  “I didn’t remember that until the other day when I received my certificate from the town, signed by you. And thank you, you gave me a clear pass.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “But you didn’t give Gordon a clear pass, did you? You cited him for many expensive violations, and in return he banned you from the restaurant? Barbie told me at tea that Gordon had fought with the building inspector, aka you, and that you hated him.”

  Everyone turned and gave Len an accusatory look. Len, in turn, appeared incredulous. “Are you suggesting that I murdered Gordon Haslett because I was banned from his crap restaurant? That’s absurd.”

  “He didn’t just ban you. He made a huge stink. Brought it to the town board and demanded an investigation. He said that you had given him a bad citation because he wouldn’t comp your meals.”

  “And he lost that claim.”

  “But it dragged on for months. You were surrounded by a cloud of suspicion. The town started to crack down on allowing inspectors to frequent the restaurants they were auditing. Other inspectors were angry.”

  Len reddened. “There was absolutely no impropriety…”

  “But with Gordon dead, it all ended. The case was thrown out. He was gone and all that fuss was brushed under the table.”

  “I suffered from all this…”

  “So you had motive.”

  The room was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Everyone waited on the edge of their seats. Antonia paused. “And your son was the first responder, so he could have covered up…”

  Len bolted up and threw down his napkin. “This is garbage. Sylvia, let’s go!”

  Sylvia was mid-forkful, dishing raspberry parfait into her mouth. For a split second, she debated putting it down, but instead crammed it into her mouth, before making a feeble effort to stand.

  “Stop, stop. Len, Sylvia, please sit down.”

  “I will not.”

  Antonia went over to them, and put her hands on their shoulders. “Don’t worry, Len. No one really thinks you killed Gordon. You may have had motive, but you are not a killer. Everyone knows that.”

  Len twisted his tie and glanced around the room. The eyes that met his were tentative, and some looked away.

  “Then why did you make me out to be one?” he asked accusingly.

  “I’m just proving a point. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m outraged!” blustered Len.

  “I understand, but it was necessary. Everything will be explained. Please stay.”

  “Yes, please do sit down, Len. Coffee and tea are on their way,” offered Joseph. “And, if you do, I think you will be amused.”

  Len glanced around like a defeated man. “Amused? You mean all of this is a joke?”

  Sylvia smacked her hand on the table. The china teacups rattled. “I know what this is! It’s one of those murder mystery games where people all get dressed up and come in character. How fun! Len, this is a game. Don’t worry. This will be a hoot! Let’s see who did it.”

  Everyone began talking at once.

  Len turned to Antonia. “I didn’t even know Biddy Robertson.”

  “I know,” said Antonia.

  “I did nothing wrong. The place was a dump. I had no choice but to cite him. Not to mention, when I saw how disgusting the kitchen was, we stopped coming.”

  “I understand. I saw that kitchen too. It was gross.”

  The waiters came around and began filling coffee and teacups, setting out pitchers of milk and cream. The conversations were now swirling in a collective buzz, adding a low hum to the room. There was excitement in the air, but also a sense of relief. But then just as suddenly a voice louder than the others spoke.

  “This isn’t just a game.”

  34

  It was Ronald Meter who spoke. Every head swung in his direction. He sat gloomily in his chair, twiddling his teaspoon between his thumb and index finger. He was agitated, and sweating profusely, with his cheeks appearing more sunken than usual. His heavy lids looked up and he studied the crowd in front of him.

  “I mean, right, Antonia? You’ve got something on all of us. So you may as well start with me now. I want to get it over with.”

  Antonia met his stare. She hadn’t wanted to select Ronald Meter for the next moment in the spotlight, but now she had no choice. Her hand was forced. She couldn’t let this happen again. It was to her benefit to be in control and running the inquisition.

  “Yes, Ronald. I do have something on you.”

  Ronald nodded slowly. “All right. Then go. What do you want to say about me? Because I think in terms of Gordon, I’m a pretty easy target. In fact, let me lay it out for you.”

  He took a sip of water. Antonia noticed his hand was shaking.

  “I have the motive. We all know that. Gordon fired me, and a prosecutor will say because of that, I wanted him dead. I had opportunity. I know the ins and outs of this inn like the back of my hand, having worked here for years. It wouldn’t be hard for me to hide in a discreet place to find the right moment to kill Gordon. I had the weapon. I keep a beehive in my backyard. So I clearly killed Gordon with a bee because I wanted revenge.”

  “Is that a confession?” asked Sylvia, her voice shrill.

  Ronald gave her a contemptuous look. Before he could answer Antonia interrupted.

  “What about Biddy?”

  “Biddy? Well, I knew her from the L.V.I.S. and I had actually briefly worked at the inn under her. Of course, I was not the biggest fan. She was a small-minded woman who had no clue as to how to run an inn.”

  “So you killed her for that?” asked Larry. “Come on,” he said to Antonia. “Get real. This guy didn’t do it.”

  “But he’s saying he did…” said Jennifer.

  “Plus, he’s a thief and a liar,” said Barbie. “He stole from the inn…”

  “Correction, you stole from the inn,” boomed Ronald.

  Barbie shot up. “I did not, and I don’t have to take this. I’m out of here.”

  “Barbie!” said Antonia. She motioned toward the two waiters at the door. Barbie saw them, hesitated, and sat back down.

  “You may search my house, but never did I take anything from
the inn,” said Ronald. “As God is my witness, and you know I would never betray him or the promises I made to my pastor.”

  Antonia’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that true?”

  Ronald’s expression momentarily wavered. “Yes.”

  Antonia nodded. “I’ve heard a few people call on God to be their witness lately.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Ronald.

  “Well, take Hector and Soyla,” said Antonia.

  She motioned to the startled couple, whose eyes widened as soon as their names were mentioned.

  “But we’ll get to them in a second,” said Antonia. “I want to finish with you. You have motive, it’s true. And access. But what really got me is that you act suspiciously, as if you are hiding something. It was that skittish behavior that made me think it was murder, but now I know it was something else.”

  Ronald sat very still, waiting.

  “What is it?” asked Sylvia.

  “The other day I was driving by a house and I saw Ronald and a man talking in the driveway. I recognized the man but couldn’t place him. And then I remembered. He’s a vendor who is producing a local brew of honey beer. He’s been by the restaurant several times to try and entice us into selling it. And Ronald is his partner. That’s what the hives are for, are they not?”

  Ronald looked stricken. He didn’t speak.

  “Why would he hide that?” asked Larry. “That’s not a crime.”

  “It’s not. Prohibition ended decades ago. But Ronald Meter has a pastor who preaches sobriety. In his mind, producing alcohol is a sin, am I right?”

  Ronald slumped in his chair. Sweat was seeping out of his every pore. He spoke in a defeated tone, so quietly that everyone had to strain to hear him.

  “Yes.”

  Antonia nodded. “I thought so. Ronald Meter may have a guilty conscience, but it’s because he’s betraying his faith, not because he is a murderer.”

  Antonia couldn’t be sure, but she thought she detected a bit of relief in Ronald’s posture at letting the secret go.

  “Speaking of God,” Antonia said, “I’d like to return to Hector and Soyla.”

  Again, the couple recoiled at the sound of their names.

  “They both said they were God-fearing people who would never commit murder. They are a couple who have come here to East Hampton to make a better life for their family. They work hard, long hours, and do whatever they can to provide for their kids. And then next thing you know, Soyla has been accused of theft and Gordon has fired her. That’s a huge shame. A blemish. They have given this man nothing but blood, sweat, and tears and this is how he repays them, by not trusting them. This makes them angry. Very angry.”

  Hector and Soyla shrunk so far back into their chairs that they had virtually disappeared. If they could have pressed a button to make themselves evaporate, Antonia was certain they would have. She was about to continue but was interrupted.

  “Let’s get to the point here, Bingham. I’m guessing that everyone here had a motive for killing Gordon,” said Larry, before turning to Jennifer. “Except maybe you, but I don’t know. Maybe you’re just eye candy.”

  Jennifer giggled.

  “Yes, who are you?” asked Lucy. She looked at Antonia. “Why is she here?”

  “No doubt some other woman who Gordon betrayed,” said Len.

  “It’s true, when I look around this room I see so many people who hated Gordon,” said Barbie.

  Everyone began talking at once about how loathsome Gordon was and how reviled he had been. Suddenly Naomi stood up and shouted.

  “Stop! Will you please stop! You are talking about my baby brother here!”

  The group fell silent. They all stared at Naomi. Larry singsonged under his breath, “Awk-ward…”

  Naomi gave him a withering look. “Antonia, you’re right. Everyone here could have killed my brother. But we all know it was Barbie.”

  Barbie began to stand up and protest but Joseph put out his arm to stop her. “Just wait,” he whispered. “Your turn will come.”

  “Yes, Barbie,” said Naomi. “Shocker, right? She was his girlfriend. She’s had me in court for months insisting she should inherit part of the inn, that Gordon left it to her. She killed him to get it. Everyone knows she was running around on him, shacking up with some other guy. She’s a slut.”

  Barbie’s face was purple and she was shaking with rage. Antonia glanced at her.

  “Barbie did have motive.”

  “Everyone had motive!” screamed Barbie.

  “True. But not everyone had access to the corporate credit card,” Antonia said firmly.

  All heads turned toward Barbie.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Barbie.

  “During my research, I scanned through past credit statements. There was a corporate card that you had access to. Upon further research, I learned that the card was used to buy honey at a farm stand the same day a blond, buxom woman attempted to buy bees, and when denied, purloined a bee from the hive.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “A worker at the farm stand saw the woman lurking around the hives. The beekeeper later confirmed that he thought a bee had been taken.”

  “This is absurd!” protested Barbie.

  “Is it?” asked Antonia. “You have told me a number of times that you deserved the inn. That you put up with Gordon for years, so you were due a share of the inn. You were cheating on Gordon, and yet although you were not legally married, you didn’t leave him. Why? Because you felt that you earned something after years of helping him make the inn somewhat successful. If you left him, you’d get nothing. So you had to stay. But maybe you got tired of waiting?”

  Everyone stared at Barbie. She gazed evenly at Antonia. “This is nonsense. I didn’t get anything from Gordon’s death other than an eviction notice.”

  Antonia walked over to the side of the room and removed a piece of paper from a manila envelope. She held it in her fingers and returned to the table. Everyone in the room stared at the paper.

  “You were searching for his will. You claimed it existed, and gave you half of the inn.”

  Antonia held up the paper. There were audible gasps in the room.

  Barbie shot up. “Let me see that!”

  Naomi also stood. “This is absurd! I don’t believe it.”

  Antonia pressed the paper to her chest. “All in good time.”

  “Stop saying that and give me the will!” yelled Barbie, lunging at Antonia.

  She reached across the table and knocked over a glass of wine, which began trickling down the table toward Jennifer. Soyla immediately grabbed her napkin and began blotting it out. Other people popped up to help, and another glass was inadvertently tipped over. It was momentary chaos with the crowd talking and giving orders and tossing napkins back and forth.

  The two waiters from the door walked over and stood beside Antonia. The crowd glanced at them, and as if sensing something, quieted at once and sat back down. They returned their full attention to Antonia.

  “Where did you find that, Antonia?” asked Lucy.

  “In one of the old boxes.”

  “Are you sure it’s Gordon’s?”

  “I’m sure this document is valid,” said Antonia.

  “It sounds like you got her,” said Len. “Maybe you should call the police now.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Barbie. “This means nothing. There is no proof whatsoever.”

  “Sounds pretty solid to me,” said Sylvia. “And did she kill Biddy too?”

  “Oh my God!” said Barbie, rolling her eyes. “Next, you’ll say I killed John F. Kennedy.”

  Antonia stared at her. “Biddy Robertson had put aside a box of items that were dropped off at the L.V.I.S. thrift shop. She recognized some of the items from the
inn, ashtrays and such. Those items were later confirmed by Soyla to have been stolen. Perhaps you stole them?”

  “Antonia, don’t quit your day job,” advised Barbie. “I’m not a murderer or a thief.”

  “What about the fact that gold earrings went missing by a guest at the inn? Soyla was fired for that. Then, a week later, you wear earrings to a meeting with the exact description.”

  “I got them for my birthday!”

  “From who?”

  Barbie glanced around the room, nervously. “A friend.”

  “Your boyfriend?” asked Antonia. “Which one, Gordon or the other guy?”

  Barbie gulped. “I’m not sure. There was a box on my desk and it just said I love you. I didn’t want to ask Gordon if he gave them to me, because he would find out I was cheating. And I felt weird asking my new guy…”

  “So you just wore them.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you didn’t steal them?”

  “No!” said Barbie emphatically. “They were a gift. And I didn’t steal any of those things from the inn and drop them off at the thrift shop. Why the hell would I do that? I never go into places like that. I had no contact with Biddy.”

  “Biddy probably had something on her,” said Naomi.

  “Really, Naomi? Like what?” asked Barbie.

  “That you’re a thief and a hussy.”

  “Enough with that,” said Barbie. “And enough about me. What about Naomi? I mean, really. She’s the one the police think did it!”

  “They’re wrong,” protested Naomi.

  Antonia walked around the table again toward Naomi. She gave her a small smile.

  “You are the one who has the most evidence against her.”

  “I’m not even going to engage,” said Naomi, shaking her head.

  “You inherited the inn when Gordon died. You had a long-term fight with Biddy, going back years where she accused you of taking the inn out from under her, then leaving a dead animal on her porch.”