“Secondly, if you can identify the second signature above the word, ‘Witness,’ it would be most helpful. As you will see, it is not discernible unless you are already familiar with it. I cannot let you touch it, but Sergeant Detree will walk around the table to show it to each of you,” Hodge continued.
Sabrina watched as Hodge handed the document in its plastic shrine over to Lucy Detree as if she were his handmaiden. She wanted to kick him in the shins and tell him to walk the damn document around the table himself if it was so important.
“I think it’s Elena’s signature, if I remember it correctly. No idea about the scrawl below,” Jack said.
Heather shook her head when Detree put the paper under her nose.
“I wouldn’t know Elena’s signature. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it. And whoever signed below should have been a doctor with that penmanship,” she said.
Paul gestured for Detree to bring the document closer to him, which she did, but only after looking toward Hodge for approval. Sabrina strained to see what was on the paper. She could only see two lines with handwriting above them. It looked like the signature page to a legal document to her.
“That’s Elena’s signature as best I can tell,” he said. He sat back and then leaned forward toward the document a second time.
“But that other one, that really looks more like scribbling to me. I’m afraid I can’t help you with that one.” Paul took his cloth napkin, dabbing at beads of sweat above his mouth.
“Do either of you know Ms. Rodriguez’s signature?” Detree asked Henry and Sabrina, almost as an oversight before she approached Kate.
“No, I wouldn’t remember it if I did,” Sabrina said. People sent her signed rental agreements all the time. She barely paid attention to them. She and Henry were looking into switching their rental agreement forms so they could be “signed” online.
“Ditto,” Henry said.
“How about you, Mrs. Keating? Is that Elena’s signature?” Hodge pressed.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything signed personally by Elena, Detective. She sent her thank you notes for her bridal shower gifts by e-mail. She was more inclined to text message us,” Kate said.
“How about the second one, ma’am?” Detree pressed.
“Well, what do you know? I know that signature as well as my own. I’ve read the document it was on countless times over the years.”
“You do?” Hodge jumped in, clearly excited by Kate’s revelation.
“How so, dear?” Jack asked.
“It’s Anneka’s signature, Jack. The one she finally used to autograph the divorce agreement we fought so hard to have her sign.”
Chapter Fifteen
Encouraged by the identification of both signatures, Detective Hodge and Sergeant Detree left as quickly as they had arrived. When pressed by Henry about when they might be able to retrieve some of the Keatings’ personal belongings, Hodge was noncommittal.
“Crime doesn’t conform to a timeline, Mr. Whitman,” Hodge said as Henry shut the door behind them.
Sabrina suggested that everyone change into the outfits they had taken from lost and found and give her their own outfits to have laundered. Only Paul and Sean had had their cell phones with them when the police had steered them away from the beach after Elena’s body had been recovered. Henry left Paul a spare charger so they could recharge their phones and stay in touch.
With Sean still sleeping, Sabrina and Henry said goodnight to the remainder of the group, who they left speculating over whether the signatures they had been asked to identify had been on the last page of the prenup.
“Dear God, will this day ever end?” Sabrina said as she got into the passenger seat of the van.
“Not yet. Neil wants us to come to Bar None to talk through some of what’s happened,” Henry said.
“What has happened, Henry?” Sabrina asked.
“A major debacle that is all on me, that’s what’s happened,” Henry said without hesitation.
“Oh come on, now. You can’t take the blame for Elena getting killed.”
“No, but I set the stage for Ten Villas to be part of this train wreck. I was so sure it would be good for us. Talk about blind ambition.” Sabrina noticed how he slowed the van as they drove along the curve on Centerline Road where Larry had died. Was it just last night?
“Then there’s this,” Henry said, handing Sabrina a crumpled piece of paper. She clicked the flashlight app on her phone and read the message from David.
“When did you get this?”
“When I dropped Gavin off at the Westin, he noticed it under the windshield. Jerk.”
“Who? David or Gavin?” Sabrina asked.
“Both.” Henry laughed.
“Why didn’t David just call or text you? Why so mysterious?”
“I blocked his number after he called a couple of months ago when he heard about the murder at Villa Mascarpone. He was so ‘concerned’ about me, but not concerned enough to leave his wife,” Henry said as they entered the near empty streets of Cruz Bay.
“What are you going to do?” Sabrina asked, thinking David’s timing couldn’t have been worse if he was hoping to rekindle his relationship with Henry. She could see how guilty Henry was feeling about insisting they take on Villa Nirvana. He probably wouldn’t be receptive to taking new risks in an old relationship that had almost taken him down.
David’s betrayal of Henry somehow seemed worse than Ben’s infidelity to Sabrina. Ben was just a pig taking another woman to bed, albeit their bed. But David had lied when asked by the airlines if he was being sexually harassed by Henry, or at least he hadn’t been firm in denying such. Henry took the fall for “inappropriate and unprofessional behavior toward his superior,” that being his pilot, David. David, who had been his lover for more than a year and who had romped and played with him while on layovers throughout the Caribbean, was all of a sudden concerned about hurting his wife, and, more importantly, losing his big fat airline pension. Henry had gotten away with his pension and a settlement from a discrimination claim he lodged against the airlines for sexual harassment by his superior. Allied Air had settled in exchange for a pledge of confidentiality. Excoriated by the experience, Henry gladly pledged his silence.
David had repented, calling and writing to Henry many times, Sabrina knew. Henry never accepted David’s apologies. “None of it means anything if he’s still with his wife,” he told Sabrina. She couldn’t disagree, but her heart broke for him each time the wound was reopened.
“Will you go see him?” Sabrina asked as they pulled into an empty parking space near Bar None, the availability of which was a sign of just how late it was.
“I don’t know,” Henry said grimly.
A bartender Sabrina didn’t recognize was wiping down the bar where a couple of late stragglers were sitting, nursing their drinks. Before she could ask for Neil, he came up behind her, placing his hand at the base of her spine.
“Hey Salty, Henry. What can I get you? You guys have had quite the day.” Neil motioned for Mark to come take orders after introducing him to Henry and Sabrina.
Sabrina opted for a lemon drop, having suffered through almost an entire day without a single lemon. Henry ordered a double Johnny Walker Blue on the rocks, a sign that he was channeling his very serious father, Sabrina knew from experience.
They took their drinks into a corner booth that had been converted into an office of sorts for Neil, who dropped rattan shades for privacy.
“Are you guys hungry? I can have Mark throw on a couple of burgers,” Neil offered.
“God no, we just ingested the entire wedding feast up at Bella Vista,” Henry said, taking a sip of his scotch.
“How’s it going up there? Is Sean beginning to grasp what’s happened?”
“Yes. At sunset, when he should have been getting married, he lost it. I think it finally hit him that Elena was gone forever,” Sabrina said.
“Tough. Cassie hit that point last night at
the clinic when they finally cleaned Larry up enough to let her see him to say good-bye,” Neil said.
Sabrina could see how difficult that must have been for Neil, who seemed to cope with life’s challenges by coming up with ways to beat them. Larry and Elena’s deaths were challenges that no one could beat.
“We did learn some information that might be useful,” Sabrina said, wanting to inject an iota of optimism into the conversation.
“Good, because I learned some information that I think you ought to be concerned about,” Neil said.
Henry looked up. Sabrina sensed his concern, which heightened her own.
“What’s that?” Henry asked.
“When I got tossed from Nirvana by that asshole Hodge, I decided to give Lee a call and find out what’s with Hodge,” Neil said.
Lee was Leon Janquar, the police detective Sabrina had come to cordial terms with and had hoped would be dispatched to Villa Nirvana when she called. Neil and Lee enjoyed a mutual respect and camaraderie.
“And?” Sabrina asked, knowing what was coming wasn’t good.
“This is strictly on the QT. Lee stuck out his neck sharing this with me. It seems Detective Hodge is a pretty ambitious guy and is taking advantage of Lee being out for a month for knee surgery. Hodge has been under fire after an investigation into police misconduct in the Virgin Islands. It seems the men under Hodge have a propensity for violence,” Neil said, taking a moment to holler over to Mark to bring him a Guinness.
“He’s pretty nasty, even to Lucy Detree,” Henry noted. Sabrina was grateful she wasn’t the only one who’d witnessed how Hodge treated Lucy earlier in the evening. After her experience in Nantucket when the police had bullied her before she had hired an attorney, Sabrina could never tell if she was overreacting to cops. But she had seen a public service announcement on local television recently that gave detailed instructions about how to file a complaint against a Virgin Island police officer for misconduct, so she knew the department was in trouble.
Neil took a swig out of the bottle of Guinness, his favorite, which Sabrina kept stocked in her refrigerator for their relaxing nights on her porch.
“Well, apparently he has a hair across his ass about Ten Villas and especially you, Salty. He didn’t like it that you managed to turn the murder out at Villa Mascarpone around and got a certificate of heroism from the department. And he thinks you got away with murder on Nantucket.”
Sabrina treasured her certificate, which had been personally given to her by Lee Janquar. She bit back an unladylike comment and kept listening while Neil continued with the bad news.
“There’s no way he can pin Elena’s death on Sabrina,” Henry said with conviction.
“No, that’s not his angle. He’s going to go after your Ten Villa’s real estate broker’s license. He’s saying you don’t know how to protect the public and that you place them in jeopardy by using poor judgment. Two murders at your villas in three months is his proof. He’s also going to enlist the press in his attack, including that barracuda Faith Chase,” Neil said.
“That is just so unfair!” Sabrina realized as she said it how ridiculous that sounded. When had anything in recent years been anything but unfair?
“We better set this story straight quickly then,” Henry said.
“Yes, the sooner the better. You need to show that Elena’s death has nothing to do with the villa’s management and everything to do with whoever was motivated to kill her and why,” Neil agreed. “The story starts with Elena. What do we know about her?”
Sabrina shared with Henry and Neil what she’d learned about Elena’s background, and Henry reported on his ride with Gavin.
“Good work, Salty. I’ll make a couple of calls about Elena in the morning. I know a couple of lawyers up in the Boston area who should be able to help with the Harvard and Babson connections,” Neil said.
“Maybe someone should check out her history in San Juan at the caserio. I could try to go over tomorrow.”
“Not without playing into Hodge’s hand, Henry. You were told not to go off island, remember?” Neil asked. “I could go, but I’d need to fly. I’ve got two bartenders out right now. A boat would take too long. I’d wait until Monday to be sure government offices were open,” Neil said.
“You won’t get in trouble for doing this, Neil?” Sabrina asked. She remembered Hodge’s foreboding words about practicing law without a license.
“Hell no, Salty. I’ve got every right to go to San Juan and look information up. But thanks for watching my back. This would be a lot easier if Larry were still around. We could hop over in his seaplane and be back in a couple of hours,” Neil sighed, taking the last draw of his beer.
Sabrina toyed with the lemon slice now sitting at the bottom of her empty glass.
“Would Cassie be willing to rent the seaplane?” she asked, looking over at Henry.
“Sure, but who’s going to fly it? No one on the island that I know has a pilot’s license,” Neil said.
“Unfortunately, someone I know does.” Henry raised his glass in a mock toast.
Chapter Sixteen
Sabrina woke early the next morning without an alarm. She had so much to do, so she leapt out of bed and began making a list. She loved lists. They made her feel as if she had some control over her life. And when she crossed off items, she knew she was in charge, or at least felt accomplished.
Before she went to bed, she had remembered her promise to get the fresh laundry over to the Keatings first thing in the morning. Exhausted, she hadn’t worried too much about special-care instructions and had dumped the contents of the black plastic bag into the washing machine with a small amount of detergent because the water on island came from cisterns that collected rain water, which was softer. Everything got washed on cold. Island living was pretty simple.
The first item on her list was to “put clothes in dryer.” Next, “call Cynthia at St. John Car Rental to let her know her jeeps are in police custody and might not be returned on time.” Third, she needed to call her friend Lyla Banks to make sure Girlfriend, who was staying with the Banks while Sabrina worked the Keating wedding, was okay. She added an item to remind her to pick up Henry for their mission to speak to David.
After making a mug of French roast coffee, Sabrina went over to the washing machine, which was located in a small alcove outside of her kitchen. She opened the lid to the machine and began lifting items out and loading them into the dryer.
She smiled as she took Jack’s linen pants out of the washer, thinking he looked pretty happy in that Sloop Jones bathing suit and might not want to climb back into hot, scratchy linen. Kate’s painting clothes went in next, followed by Paul’s shirt. Sabrina reached to grab Heather’s blue-and-green dress, something Ruth, the woman who had raised her, would have called a “muumuu,” when she felt something in the pocket. She grasped the object and was surprised to find herself holding a platinum necklace with three large, princess-cut stones that looked to be diamonds.
Sabrina held the necklace up, now seeing that one side of the flat chain was shorter than the other and had been broken. The stones were large, at least a carat each judging from what Sabrina has seen in engagement rings. She had never had a diamond because Ben had thought them silly. Of course he had. He’d already bought two of them, one for each of her predecessors.
“Why you could buy a boat or a car for that kind of money,” he’d told her, so she’d settled for a Claddagh wedding band, cliché even for Irish American Boston, with the hands, heart, and crown symbolizing friendship, love, and loyalty. Oh what a crock.
Sabrina had known a few women who had three-diamond necklaces, each stone symbolizing one of her children. She knew from ads in magazines they were often touted as a way to memorialize, “the past, present, and future” of a relationship.
Whatever the symbolism was, Sabrina knew she was looking at a stunning and very expensive piece of jewelry. She hadn’t seen Heather wearing the necklace, which she surely would
have noticed. It definitely wasn’t something you would wear with a muumuu. She couldn’t imagine why Heather was carrying it in her pocket, other than the chain was broken and couldn’t be worn. Sabrina placed the pendant in a small plastic sandwich bag, zipped up the seal, and tucked it in her own pocket. Making a mental note to ask Heather about the necklace later, she finished placing the laundry in the dryer and moved down her list.
Cynthia was sorry to hear that the wedding had turned into a tragedy and would wait to hear about when the jeeps would be returned. Sabrina had rented them for a week in case the family decided to extend their trip and was confident she would have them back at St. John Car Rental by the end of the rental agreement.
Lyla Banks answered her phone on the first ring.
“Girlfriend is having a nice visit. She and Evan are out for a little walk. But how are you, dear? We’ve heard the news about the poor bride accidentally drowning before the wedding. You and Henry must be a wreck.”
Sabrina assured Lyla that she and Henry were coping as best they could, asking if Girlfriend could hang out with them a little longer. She didn’t bother correcting Lyla’s version about how Elena drowned. Everyone on island would know the facts soon enough.
“She can stay as long as you need. Honestly, she is so good with Evan, I might consider getting a dog for him. He seems more relaxed, and the Alzheimer’s symptoms aren’t as apparent. Taking care of the dog makes him work at remembering,” Lyla said.
After hanging up with Lyla, Sabrina folded the now-dry laundry, placing it in a basket. Within fifteen minutes, her jeep was climbing up Bordeaux Mountain for the second time in less than ten hours. She hoped the Keatings had been able to sleep. Henry should be there already, since he was on breakfast duty.
The smell of bacon wafting through the open windows brought Sabrina right back to Allerton, where she had grown up next to a diner and where bacon was considered medicinal. Bacon could make anything better. Bacon and fried egg sandwiches. Bacon baked on top of meatloaf. BLT’s on white bread with Hellman’s mayonnaise. She hoped bacon was doing its magic this morning.
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