Death on Windmill Way: A Hamptons Murder Mystery

by Carrie Doyle

  Every time Antonia made it to the beach for her morning walk, she resolved to come every day. The smell of the salty ocean, the clean breeze, the vast expanse of openness—from the water to the sky, made her feel cleansed. It was like mental floss. It made everything in her life fall into place and gave her perspective. The fact that the previous innkeepers at her inn were being whacked off? No problem. With a sea this blue and a beach this vast what did it matter?

  The foamy waves were slobbering along the shores, dragging more bounty with them. They would unfurl their rocks and shells then recoil lazily. Antonia was so engrossed in her hunt for a piece of sea glass by the break that she didn’t notice that Nick Darrow had approached. It was only after one of his dogs came bounding over and put his wet paws on her knees that she glanced up.

  “You made it today,” said Nick with a smile. His hair was damp and neatly combed and he wore a black turtleneck sweater over khakis and brown boots.

  “I made it,” said Antonia, rising.

  They stared at each other for a beat smiling. Antonia felt instantly awkward and remembered that she was clutching the white bag in her left hand. She thrust it towards him. “Here, I made you some muffins. But if you already ate, that’s okay, we can just chuck them, it’s no problem…”

  “You made them for me? Thank you,” said Nick. He took the bag from her and opened it, pulling out an oversized chunk. “They look delicious.”

  “No nuts, wasn’t sure if you were allergic….”

  “I’m not.”

  “Banana chocolate chip.”

  “Great,” he said, staring at the muffin. “I like the way all the sugar crystallized on top.”

  “Me too,” said Antonia with perhaps too much enthusiasm.

  Nick took a big bite. His eyes rolled back dramatically and he moaned loudly. “Oh my God, these are fabulous!”

  Antonia flushed with excitement. “It’s okay if you don’t like them. Please don’t feel the need to humor me.”

  “Stop it! They’re great,” he said through his full mouth.

  Yes, he was an actor, and maybe he was just acting but Antonia was thrilled by his reception of her food. There was no better high in her mind than feeding people well. Forget drugs, this was a better buzz.

  They started walking along the beach, following the paw print path that Nick’s dogs had etched in the sand. The conversation was mostly topical, about food and wine, new restaurants in town, and local politics. There were moments of silence where they watched the dogs or the surfers bobbing in the waves, but nothing felt awkward or stilted. Antonia was both relaxed and energized when she was with Nick. She felt frisson, as if two electrical wires were rubbing together to make a buzz. She was sure he viewed her platonically, but that was okay. Somehow it was enough for her alone to experience the jolt that he gave her, the little fluttering heartbeats that sustained her through the day.

  When they had finished their walk and were leaning against the split-rail fence shaking the sand out of their shoes, Nick dropped a bomb.

  “I’ll miss this beach.”

  “Miss it?” asked Antonia, replacing her shoe. “What do you mean?”

  Nick scanned the shoreline. In the distance a fishing boat was drifting along the water, miles away. “I’m leaving town tomorrow to go film a movie.”

  Antonia felt her stomach drop. “You are?”

  “Yeah,” he said, turning towards her. “It’s always so hard to leave.”

  “I can imagine. How long are you going for?” she hoped she sounded more casual than she felt and that there was no panic creeping into her voice.

  “Four months.”

  “Four months?” asked Antonia. “Wow! That’s a long time.”

  “I know. I hope I can get back for a break in between but it’s not looking good. We’re filming in Australia.”

  “Australia? Wow. You really couldn’t go much farther than that.”

  “I know.”

  A thought suddenly occurred to Antonia. “What about your son? Doesn’t he have school?”

  Nick nodded. “He’s coming. We’ll put him in school there and have him tutored.”

  Antonia’s stomach dropped again. She noticed he had said we. All her fears suddenly converged. It was clear that this son of his had a mother, and this mother was still in the picture. It was silly that she hadn’t looked it up on one of those celebrity websites, but it was as if she had blocked it from her mind. She truly had not wanted to know for sure if he was married. She knew the confirmation would upset her, and now it did, but she had been wrong—it would have been better to be prepared. Because right now it would be very difficult to pretend that she was not upset. Disappointment was running wild all over her face.

  Antonia took a deep breath. “Well, I think it sounds like an adventure…”

  “Yes, it will be. We’ll do some traveling, and I think it’s a great experience for a kid to see the rest of the world.”

  Antonia placed a frozen smile on her face. “Absolutely. Australia’s on my bucket list.”

  “It’s great.”

  Before the conversation became protracted, Antonia had to take action. She needed to get away from Nick now, or she would definitely start looking like even more of an idiot. She started touching her pocket and pulled out her cell phone, glancing at the screen.

  “Oh my, so sorry, I have a call from the inn. I should dash.”

  “Okay, well it’s been great walking . . .”

  But Antonia cut him off. She didn’t want to hear his pleasantries. She smiled and spoke into the receiver. He had no idea that no one was there.

  “Hold on one second,” before turning to Nick and giving him her biggest grin. “Bon Voyage, have a terrific trip!”

  And without waiting for his response, she walked away, forcing herself not to look back.

  * * * * *

  As soon as she pulled out of the parking lot, Antonia allowed herself to cry. Bitter tears came flooding out of her eyes, dripping down her cheeks and pooling around her chin. The nose lost it as well, and she could feel it running. She was a hot mess. The obvious and traditional path that Antonia’s mind would take would be recriminations and “I told you so’s.” But today she didn’t want to criticize herself for having a crush, for suffering from disappointment and heartache. Because somewhere deep down, she was actually happy that she felt this way. However absurd it was, however much of a long shot, she was still glad that she had put her tiny little heart out there. She had cocooned it so well under all her layers of fat and fleece these past few years, insulating herself from any opportunity for romance. Every pound she gained was another layer to her shield, used to cover herself. It was as if she didn’t want to be seen by men anymore. She couldn’t bear it.

  And yet she had inadvertently fallen for one of the biggest film stars on the planet. And they had formed a friendship. It was the stuff of movies, but then life was weirder than movies. Genevieve often told Antonia that she was too hard on herself, so here she was being indulgent. Now as she drove around the quiet streets of the estate section of East Hampton, she let the floodgates open. She heaved, she scream-cried, she blasted Alanis Morrisette on her car stereo (fortunately, she kept the CD handy). She was shedding tears for everything, wallowing in self-pity. And then just like a tropical storm that suddenly stops pounding its raindrops, so did Antonia. She felt better. The clouds cleared. She turned her car around and headed towards Joseph’s house.

  28

  Joseph was seated on one of the pair of matching chintz armchairs in his living room with his feet resting on the accompanying ottoman. A blue blanket draped across his knees and was firmly tucked in at the sides. The fabric on the cushions was various shades of pink and blush and featured giant cabbage roses unfurling their petals across the linen tableau. Antonia sat across from Joseph on the slipcovered sofa, in front of the
windows. The room was pleasant. As the house was very old, there was no distinction between the entrance hall and the living room; they folded into each other with a large banistered mahogany staircase running against the wall bisecting the formal area from the sun porch. A sizeable oval hook rug was beneath the seating area, and the walls were a cool blue. The furnishings had a woman’s touch—consoles covered with an abundance of framed pictures; a corner cabinet displaying blue and white china; an antique quilt mounted on the wall; a vase of dried flowers on the coffee table—and yet there was a masculine vibe as well. The oil paintings were of horses and hunters, the books on the small shelf under the side window were historical fiction and biographies of war heroes, and the bar cart in the alcove beneath the staircase exclusively featured hard liquor like scotch and bourbon.

  Joseph had been pleased to see Antonia, immediately putting down his book on his lap and removing his glasses. It also appeared that his son William was even more pleased. As soon as Antonia arrived, the quite serious looking William begged off to go to the grocery store and Joseph barely bid him adieu.

  “How’s it going?” asked Antonia.

  Joseph shrugged. “I despise being at the mercy of others.”

  “I hear you. But he is your son.”

  “And I love him. However, he’s very highly strung. He’s always been that way. Margaret and I never knew where that came from. I suppose it was good, in a way. He was always the one to put pressure on himself and push. He was a straight A student, a champion soccer and tennis player, captain of the debate team. We never had a bit of trouble with him.”

  “Sounds like a dream child.”

  “He was, he still is, and I don’t mean to complain. But he was always so rigid. I just wished he would loosen up a bit. Everything is very black and white with him. And he’s headstrong as hell!”

  “Gee, I wonder where he gets that from.”

  “Oh no, I’m nothing like him. There is no reasoning with him. He has decided that I am to move to New York and that is that. No more discussion. Last I checked it was a free country.”

  Antonia smiled. “He’s probably very worried about you and wants to make sure you’re okay. Sounds like he’s the type of guy that hates being out of control. Humor him for a while. I don’t mean move to New York, but just let him think he’s in control until he leaves. Then you can do what you want.”

  Joseph smiled. “Very good advice, my dear.”

  “I can sometimes brainstorm helpful nuggets,” said Antonia with a grin.

  “Now, I am way behind on everything. Please tell me what is going on with all the murders. I was thinking a lot about it in the hospital and it was the one thing that gave me energy. That sounds absurd and callous, and my sympathies go to the victims, but I do like a good puzzler.”

  Once again, Antonia filled him in on everything, the big news being that Naomi had been brought in for questioning in regards to Biddy’s murder. After downloading everything she knew, Antonia waited as Joseph digested the information.

  He finally spoke. “You know, I think it’s time to take some notes here. Do you mind handing me my yellow legal pad? It’s on the desk by the phone over there.”

  Antonia retrieved the pad and handed it to Joseph along with a pen. She watched as he wrote a headline in big bold letters: SUSPECTS IN GORDON’S MURDER: before she sat back down.

  “You really think he was murdered?”

  “Don’t you?” asked Joseph. “And anyway, it doesn’t matter. Even if it’s just conjecture, let’s look at it as a parlor game. We’re playing Clue now. Barbie did it in the garden with the bee….”

  “Sounds good. Will we discuss each suspect one by one?”

  “I think that’s the best idea. All of this information is leading us somewhere, perhaps if we outline it we will see the connections.”

  “Good idea. Let’s write down each suspect and list their possible motive.”

  “As well as their accessibility,” added Joseph.

  “Whom should we start with?”

  “Let’s start with Barbie. Don’t they say that 80% of the time the wife did it? I suppose in this case, the ‘common-law-wife’?”

  “Right.”

  Antonia watched as Joseph wrote Barbie’s names in large caps on the pad before underlining it. He looked up at her. “Motive?”

  “I think we have to do bullet points on this one. She had the most motive. She had a boyfriend so she didn’t need Gordon anymore.”

  “Then why not just dump him?” asked Joseph. “PS: I’ll be playing devil’s advocate to sharpen your theories. Actually, now I think it might be a pity William left. He is very good at cross-examination and making people second guess themselves.”

  “You’re terrible.”

  “Go on.”

  “Okay. Barbie had a boyfriend. She had moved on. But she didn’t break up with Gordon because she wanted money. She believed he had written her into the will, and at the very least, legally, because she was his common-law-wife, she would get something and be his beneficiary. Maybe she had dreams of moving her boyfriend into the inn with her. And that’s why she was frantically searching for the will and was so upset she couldn’t find it.”

  “Don’t you think she would have kept herself a copy of this supposed will before she killed him? Some sort of insurance?”

  “You would think that, but maybe she’s stupid. Killers can be dumb.”

  “Good point. What else?”

  “Well, maybe she was getting desperate. She had accused other people of stealing, but it looks like she was the one who had been stealing. And, with Soyla and Ronald both fired, maybe her jig was up and she was about to get caught. Biddy confiscated the box of alleged stolen goods at the L.V.I.S. with intent to return it to the inn, maybe she implicated Barbie, and maybe Barbie killed her…”

  Joseph cleared his throat. “Ahem. Let’s get to Biddy’s killer later. How do we think Barbie committed the crime?”

  “Well, credit card receipts show that she was at South Fork Farms around the time of Gordon’s death. Someone fitting her description inquired about purchasing a bee, and then stole a bee. Maybe.”

  Joseph glanced at Antonia over his glasses. “Seems flimsy. If she were planning on procuring a bee, why would she place herself at the farm stand by charging a purchase with her credit card? That’s putting her directly in the line of fire, so to speak.”

  Antonia sighed with disappointment. “I agree. It’s weak. It doesn’t make sense why she would pay by credit card when she could have paid cash. And there are other ways to obtain a bee.”

  Joseph scribbled something down and circled it.

  “What are you writing?” asked Antonia.

  “I’m writing that the ‘How’ is unconvincing. As in the ‘who, what, where, when and how?’ It’s very obvious, and there are other elements to this plan that appear very well thought out. Therefore, this bee from the farm doesn’t make sense.”

  “Maybe she didn’t have a plan at that point. Maybe that part was impulsive. And she didn’t think that we would put two and two together.”

  “It’s possible. We did decide the killer may be dumb.”

  Antonia thought back to her conversation with the girl at the farm stand. “Possibly, but what does bother me is that she was so obvious. I mean, I know that’s Barbie’s character, she’s a little flashy, but to hunt down the owner at their farmhouse? The stand wasn’t even open, and then to lurk around and steal a bee. It’s as if she wanted to be seen. Wouldn’t she have at least tried to go a little incognito?”

  Antonia and Joseph both paused to contemplate that. After some moments, Joseph restored his line of questioning.

  “Do we have any other evidence of past criminal behavior on Barbie’s part?”

  “Only that she was a thief. Possibly.”

  “What about anything v
iolent?”

  Antonia shook her head. “I would love to say yes, but I don’t think so. I know she and Gordon fought, but no one mentioned physical violence. There was no police report on her. I saw her when she was pretty much obliterated, and she wasn’t throwing punches. So, no. Now where are we? Everything fits and yet doesn’t.”

  “Let’s move on for now. How about the gardener?”

  “Hector? Well, yes, he had some motive, but I don’t really think he did it. I mean, he was angry that his wife was fired, and Gordon sounds like a really annoying boss, but why would he kill him?”

  “I’m writing down, ‘weak motive.’ But as a gardener, he probably knew something about bees.”

  “True.”

  “And Gordon was found in the garden. By Hector.”

  “Yes. And Hector’s wife Soyla worked at the South Fork Farm, which has the beehives. He had access,” acknowledged Antonia. “But then so does anyone.”

  “You really don’t like the gardener for this one.”

  “I know,” conceded Antonia. “I just don’t see it.”

  “Alright. Who’s next?”

  “Ronald Meter. The manager. He was fired by Gordon and he keeps a beehive, which he at first hid from me, but then told me it was because he was ashamed he ate honey as he was diabetic.”

  “That’s a bit bizarre.”

  “I agree. But the thing is, Ronald seemed angrier with Barbie than he was at Gordon. He felt she manipulated him.”