Death on Lily Pond Lane

by Carrie Doyle

  “Oh yes!” she exclaimed with excitement. “I heard about that movie. Sheila, that is the ex-wife, gave a big interview to the guy who made the movie. Mr. Black was not happy.”

  She wasn’t sure how, but Antonia felt like she was connecting the dots. She slowed the car down, eager to extend the trip and her conversation.

  “And what is Mr. Black like when he’s not happy?”

  With this Francine smiled. “Mr. Black gets very angry. You can ask anybody, he has a lot of enemies. Last week he yelled at his next-door neighbor so loudly, I thought the police would be called.”

  “Does he ever become violent?”

  “Oh no, not like that. Just mad, really mad.”

  “Francine,” began Antonia. “The young man who made that movie, his name was Warner Caruthers, was found dead this morning.”

  Francine’s hand flew to her mouth. “No! Terrible.”

  “I know.”

  Francine’s eyes grew. “But you don’t think Mr. Black…”

  “No, no, sorry, I don’t want to give you that impression. No one has said murder yet. It’s still possible he slipped and fell in the bathtub.”

  “Horrible!”

  “I know, a terrible accident.”

  Antonia paused. She should stop now; move on from the conversation. But anyone who knew her knew that wasn’t her style. “I do think it is strange that there seem to be so many people who hated this young man. So many people who could become very angry.”

  Francine stared in front of her quietly. Antonia could see her mind was churning through the new information. “Do you think Mr. Black did something?”

  “I don’t think that. But you just told me he became upset about this movie, he has a quick temper and he mysteriously and abruptly sent you away last night so he could have a meeting.”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything,” said Francine, shaking her head.

  “No, no, of course, I don’t want to cause you trouble. I’m just thinking out loud. Who was the meeting with, do you know?”

  Francine hesitated before she spoke. “No, I’m not sure.”

  Antonia could tell Francine was holding back and she felt that she had pushed enough. It was only right that Francine was loyal to her employer, even if he was a jerk. But Francine might be able to place the man with the briefcase with Sidney Black. She would need to gain her trust in order to further question her. For now, Antonia dropped her interrogation and turned right on Spaeth Lane. They continued in silence until Francine finally pointed at a driveway.

  “This one.”

  There was a small white sign with the initials S.C.B. stenciled in black. Antonia started to pull in when Francine stopped her.

  “I’ll get out at the end of the driveway. I don’t want to wake Mr. Black.”

  “Sure,” said Antonia, putting the car in park. She was worried that she had gone too far and scared off Francine.

  Francine opened the car door and then retrieved her suitcase. “Thank you for the ride.”

  “Listen, Francine, sorry if I stepped out of line. I was the one who found Warner Caruthers this morning. It shook me to the core and I suppose my mind is spinning with all those mystery novels I read. I don’t want to suggest anything about Mr. Black.”

  “No, don’t worry.”

  “Here’s my card, if you ever need me,” said Antonia, fumbling in her purse and pulling out a wilted card. She handed it to Francine, who put it in her pocket before pulling up the handle of her suitcase and walking up the driveway. Antonia watched as Francine disappeared into the darkness.

  6

  Wednesday

  Antonia walked along the beach as the foamy waves lapped at the edge of the surf, displacing shells and small stones. She strolled past the large mansions hovering on the cusps of the high sand dunes and drank in the salty air. Beach walks were like meditation and yoga and massage all rolled up into one. She was so lost in thought planning her strategy on how to deal with the lawyer with the briefcase that she didn’t notice the two golden labs approaching her from behind until they were jumping all over her frantically. Their fat pink tongues hung eagerly out of their drooling mouths. Her heart quickened and she turned around.

  “Hey you! Didn’t you hear me calling your name?”

  It was him.

  “No, sorry, I was spacing out.”

  Antonia felt a familiar burning sensation rising up inside her. Nick Darrow was the reason.

  The dogs continued jumping up at Antonia, their wet sandy paws making marks on her clothes. She leaned down to pet them, happy to avert her eyes from him for a moment so she could pull herself together. Genevieve always told her that when she felt anxious in the presence of a cute man she should chant in her mind: I am a Goddess; I am a Goddess; Bend down and Worship Me. She had laughed in her face at the time but now it was the only thing that popped in her head. She could throttle Genevieve at this moment. At least now it was easier to focus on the absurdity of the statement than the heat she felt emanating from Nick.

  “Down, Ernie! You too, Maggie!”

  “It’s okay,” said Antonia. “I don’t mind.”

  “Well, they’re definitely happy to see you,” he said with a smile.

  “I’m happy to see them,” said Antonia, rubbing Maggie’s forehead.

  “And I’m happy to see you.”

  She felt herself blush. Dammit! Nick Darrow made her feel like a teenager in love. It was an infantile crush, but her feelings were utterly uncontrollable on this issue. He was charming and sexy with an intensity that she found irresistible. He had a full head of thick dark hair, penetrating blue eyes and delicious lips. He was also a mega movie star, who happened to be married to another mega movie star. Therefore all romantic feelings towards him were utterly ridiculous.

  “Welcome back.”

  “Thanks.”

  “How was Australia?”

  “Beautiful. Great country. But I missed this place. Four months is a long time to be away from home.”

  “I know. I can imagine.”

  “I felt so removed and out of it. Was on the set all day and then…well, it’s very far away. I’m playing catch up on everything.”

  “Yeah, you didn’t miss that much.”

  “Fill me in.”

  Antonia prattled on about local news, and Nick was such an attentive listener that she found herself telling him about her awful discovery of Warner’s body in the tub. His face awash with concern.

  “That’s awful,” said Nick.

  “Yes, it’s so sad,” said Antonia, eager to change the subject. “So has Finn settled back into school?”

  “He’s thrilled to be back but now Melanie wants to take Finn with her to France while she shoots a film but I don’t want to pull him out of school yet again, so she’s all in a huff.”

  Melanie was Nick’s wife. Hence, the utterly unrealistic emotions that Antonia felt for him.

  “I see,” said Antonia, staring pensively at the sand.

  “He only has about six more weeks of school, I don’t know why she can’t wait. I’m here, I’m not working right now, and she can come back and visit for a weekend.”

  “You can’t deny him, Paris, Nick.”

  “I’m not denying him Paris….”

  “We’re talking Gay Paree! The Eiffel Tower, the Marais, the Louvre! Not to mention the most fantastic food on earth. Close your eyes and conjure up the image of hunks of fresh baked sourdough bread smeared with gooey cheese. That is living. Now throw in a bottle of Bordeaux and you’ve got me!”

  Nick smiled. “Okay, but Finn is seven and even though the drinking laws are more liberal over there, I don’t think he’d be interested in a bottle of wine.”

  “You know what I mean!”

  “I know, I know. France is great.”

  “Great?
No. Finding a parking space on Main Street in August is great. France is amazing. I mean, you are talking to a cook. Those are my people there. They know food and wine and life. The coffee! The pain au chocolat! Fois gras! Oh, what I would do to have dinner again at L’Ami Louis. The chicken with duck fat potatoes is simply divine. The skin is crunchy on the outside, like a crust, then tender inside. And the salty potatoes, well…” Antonia glanced off at the sky, thoughts of Paris filling her mind. “Hey, forget bringing Finn, Melanie can take me!”

  When she had finished her monologue, Antonia glanced over at Nick, who was looking at her with amusement. “I didn’t realize you worked for the French Tourism Board.”

  “I get pretty worked up.”

  “To say the least,” said Nick, shaking his head with a smile. “One thing we can all agree on is you certainly have a zest for life.”

  Antonia blushed and thrust her hands in the deep pockets of her sweater. They continued walking, and she stole a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. She tried to be critical: he wasn’t as handsome as he used to be; his face was deeply lined and slightly puffy, as if he had been drinking heavily; his once lustrous dark hair was now salt and pepper; he was bulkier than he should be, especially now that he was in his late forties.

  None of that really bothered her. Damn. What she also saw was a powerful man, full of strength and complicated emotions. He might not be physically perfect, like say, Sam, the chef she had met last night (not that she was looking). But Nick’s passion and energy were undeniable. He was the most charismatic man she had ever met.

  “You really think we should go with her?” Nick asked suddenly. He gave her a hard look, one that demanded honesty and truth. His intensity always took her off guard, and yet it was what she found the most thrilling about him.

  Antonia’s pulse raced. The idea of him going away yet again made her stomach turn; but it wasn’t good to nurse this childish crush. She stole a glance at him. He was staring distractedly out at the water. Ribbons of white fluff cut up the blue waves, breaking in zigzag lines.

  “I think you have to pick your battles.”

  “But it’s the way she does it. She sets everything up like a battle. She’s the most passive aggressive person I’ve ever met.”

  Antonia remained silent.

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to vent. Let’s just say…Australia wasn’t all fun and shrimp on the barbie.”

  Antonia smiled slightly. “It’s okay, I know, marriage is hard.”

  “Were you ever married?”

  Antonia paused. She glanced over at him, but seeing that he was still full of fury over his wife, she decided now was not the time to address it.

  “Oh, ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies,” said Antonia slyly.

  He eyed her curiously. “You play it coy, lady, but don’t think I don’t notice that you shut down every personal question I ask you. We walked on the beach together almost every day last November, with me babbling to you about everything. You barely mentioned that you almost got offed by the manager of your inn. You told me nothing of your past. And I thought I’m the one who’s supposed to be protective of my personal life. Hell, if I do anything it ends up in one of those gossip rags. What is it about you that makes me tell you everything?”

  She felt the blood race to her cheeks. It was one of those moments where she knew if she deflected the question they might never attain a deeper level of friendship. But it was scary, because is that what she wanted from him? Did he really care about her or was he just being nice? And could she risk making herself vulnerable? Finally, the words came out of her.

  “I was married once. But he was a total jerk. And that’s putting it mildly. Sleeping with the Enemy times ten. I suppose I deflect all of the personal questions you ask me because it’s painful to think about him.”

  She felt relieved once she had told him. Nick was an emotional, passionate person, so he would not take what she said lightly.

  “Antonia! I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she shrugged. “I am over it.”

  Nick gave her a long look. “You’re strong. I’m sure you’re okay.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Philip had tried to make her feel weak, and succeeded for a long time, but then somehow she was able to fight back. Now, in reflection, it felt strange that she was ever with him. She couldn’t imagine she would have allowed it. But she had been young. And in the beginning, she thought he was a knight in shining armor. He was handsome, confident, strong—a police officer, for lord’s sake. He took charge, and made all the decisions for her, which at first she appreciated. But then he became all about control. And that’s when her life really became terrible. It took a terrible trauma and the death of her father for her to finally muster the strength to leave him.

  Antonia realized she was a million miles away and Nick was now staring at her quizzically. Finally, he spoke.

  “Sometimes it’s hard to understand how we end up with the people we do. It can take awhile to understand how wrong, or how right it is. But people make mistakes. It happens. It’s what they do about it. How strong they are to change it.”

  She knew he was talking about him and Melanie but she didn’t want to go down that road anymore. It was true, she and Nick had both married the wrong person for them. But he would probably stay, whereas she got out. They continued in silence towards the jetty, the dogs running in and out of the water, retrieving sticks and a chewed up yellow tennis ball. For just a moment, Antonia could imagine what it would be like to be in a relationship with Nick Darrow. Then the moment passed.

  7

  Antonia was in the parking lot shaking the sand out of her shoes when her cell phone buzzed.

  “Who was the girl Warner was shacking up with?” demanded the voice on the other end of the line.

  “What happened to pleasantries, Larry?” asked Antonia.

  “Got no time, got no time, hot stuff. Deadlines, baby. Now talk to me.”

  Antonia sighed and unlocked her car door. She sat down and braced herself for another irritating conversation with Larry Lipper.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Come on! Be useful here. You must have some idea. I talked again to Len Powers at the Dune Club. He was pretty defensive about the possibility that it might be one of his members so I tried a different angle, that maybe it was someone else. That jogged his memory a bit. He remembered that after he told Warner to pack up and get the hell off club property, the cameraman bolted but a woman in a car pulled up. Warner chatted with the bird for a few minutes and she followed him in her car when he left.”

  “Rings no bells. I have no idea who he was associating with.”

  “Really? Come on.”

  “I swear.”

  “Geez, you’re no help.”

  “What kind of car?” asked Antonia out of curiosity.

  “Len only remembers German. Black. Said if his life depended on it he couldn’t remember if it was a BMW or a Mercedes. Clearly not a detail person.”

  “Yeah. It’s a pity,” said Antonia sarcastically. She knew that Len would have no interest in helping a newspaper reporter; he was all about discretion. The old guard who were members of the Dune Club did everything they could to stay out of the paper, and away from prying eyes of any sort. As their head of security, they relied on Len to be the gatekeeper.

  Suddenly, something Larry said struck her. “Wait, there was a cameraman?”

  “What?”

  “You said that there was a cameraman with Warner at the Dune Club.”

  “Duh! How else would he film the documentary?”

  “Where is he now?”

  “No one has a beat on him. Warner didn’t introduce him to any of the people he interviewed, or at least the ones I talked to didn’t pay a speck of attention to the guy’s n
ame so they don’t know where to find him.”

  “But what about the police? Surely, they can locate him?”

  “If they have, they ain’t talking. I’m trying every angle to find this jackass.”

  “Because the footage is a motive,” Antonia said more to herself. She thought of the lawyer. Why wasn’t he trying to track down the cameraman? Was he unable to find him?

  “I knew you were convinced he was murdered!” squawked Larry with delight.

  “No, I am not….” Antonia backtracked. “But I’m curious about what will happen to the documentary. Who even owns the rights to it now?”

  “It depends on what sort of agreement he had with his cameraman. If they were partners, he’d receive a cut. But my hunch is Warner was the boss, which means probably Warner’s parents retain the rights. Maybe they’ll take on their son’s cause in a last hurrah. He died while “seeking the truth” bullshit. What do the Mastersons say?”

  “They’re traveling in Europe. I only talked to Robert Masterson briefly.”

  “They have all the answers. So here are your marching orders: ask them or their son—the one who was friend’s with Warner…”

  “Luke.”

  “Whatever. Ask them who Warner was banging and who his cameraman was. Then we will recon and go from there.”

  “Larry, I’m not your partner on this.”

  “For God’s sake, Antonia. Do me a solid. You owe me.”

  He hung up before Antonia could decipher what she owed him for. Was it for not sleeping with him?

  * * * * *

  Antonia returned to the inn and promised herself that she would chain herself to her office until she finished everything to which she needed to attend. This meant no Warner anything until she was done with work. It was time to push it all out of her head for now and focus on business. As it was, the surface of her antique roll-top desk was covered with various papers and spreadsheets that needed to be systematically filed, shred or discarded. The tan leather in-box was overflowing with a large stack of mail that needed her attention, including several big bills that needed to be paid, which was always a source of stress.