Permanent Sunset

by C. Michele Dorsey

  “Who’s Angel Pagan?” Sabrina asked.

  “Not a baseball fan? He’s the center fielder for the San Francisco Giants. He grew up in Puerto Rico. The company has season’s tickets in the Virgin American Club box and sometimes some of the players will circulate in the boxes before a game. Angel popped into ours and I introduced him to Elena. They spoke a little in Spanish to each other. I could tell that she found the meeting stressful. Elena didn’t like spontaneity. She liked to plan things,” Sean said.

  “Did she know him from Puerto Rico?” Sabrina couldn’t grasp why someone would find meeting a baseball player from their homeland stressful.

  “Oh no. It was just that his name was similar to the classmate she had been with on the day of the explosion. She had been doing a school project with a girl who was an only child and had a much quieter apartment than Elena, who had five brothers and sisters.”

  “What was the name of the friend?” Sabrina asked.

  “Angelica Pagan. There was another name in the middle that I can’t remember. Elena called her ‘my little angel.’ She said if she hadn’t been with Angelica that day, she would have died with her parents and brothers and sister and everyone else in the building, for that matter. And after all that Elena went through to survive, she ends up being murdered. It’s not fair. I want to know who did this to her.”

  The fury in his voice suggested she had better get him back on topic before she lost the opportunity to ask a few follow-up questions. She wondered what it would be like to lose your entire family in an explosion that killed everyone in the entire building. Would you feel guilty for surviving? Sabrina’s own meager beginnings in Allerton felt privileged compared to Elena’s.

  “Did Elena keep in touch with Angelica?” Sabrina asked. She needed to rein Sean and herself in.

  “I asked her that. She said Angelica’s mother sent Angelica to live in New York with her father, where she would be safe after the explosion.”

  “Did you share this with Neil?” Sabrina suspected that what Sean had just told her had little value to the investigation, but it was more than what Neil already had to go on. Even a new last name might help. Maybe Mrs. Pagan still lived at the caserio.

  “I can’t remember. I told him about the fire, but I don’t think I told him about Elena meeting Angel Pagan.” He refilled Girlfriend’s empty water bowl with what was left of his own bottle.

  Sabrina reached for her cell phone and called Neil, hoping first for reception and second that he and David hadn’t left San Juan. For once, luck was with her. Neil picked up, and she quickly imparted the information she had learned to him.

  “I know it’s not much, but it’s something,” she said breathlessly to Neil, who told her they would go back to the caserio.

  “Maybe this will help,” Sabrina suggested to Sean, whose eyes she noticed were filling again. She knew only too well what it was like to be flooded with shifting emotions. Sorrow to anger to remorse and back to sadness swept in on relentless waves. The worst part was never knowing where each wave would toss you.

  “How will I go on? How can I have a life without Elena? We hadn’t even moved into our apartment that she had decorated so carefully. We hadn’t taken the cooking classes we both needed because neither of us knew how to cook. We hadn’t done so many things she had planned for us, and now we’ll never be able to do them.”

  Tears streamed down Sean’s face. Sabrina knew he was about to sob. Why did people feel so comfortable sharing their secrets and their feelings with her, dammit? She had no skills, no words, no nothing to soothe them with. Why couldn’t they sense that? Henry told her people opened up to her because she knew how to practice silence, to just be attentive and listen instead of trying to fix their problems. He said she knew how to bear witness.

  “Sean, you will always have your memories. No one can take those from you. All those moments when you and Elena were together, especially those when you were alone with her and it felt like there was no one else in the world.” Sabrina thought about sleeping next to Neil on his boat the night before, both of them too tired to even contemplate sex, holding hands across their berths while the trawler rocked them to sleep. The sweet moments are what will get Sean through, she thought, until she realized she had unintentionally triggered a deeper grief.

  “We hadn’t even, even . . .” Sean said. He bent over, sobbing.

  Sabrina placed her hand on his back, hoping to rub away the agony and loss in Sean’s heart for all he never had and would never have with Elena, which Sabrina now understood included physical intimacy.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Sabrina was relieved to hear her phone ring, giving her an excuse to leave Sean. That is, until she looked at the caller ID panel and read “VIPD.” The last person she wanted to speak to was Detective Hodge. Her conversation with Sean had depleted her. But ducking the call would only delay the agony.

  “Ms. Salter, this is Sergeant Lucy Detree.”

  Sabrina felt like she’d just won the lottery.

  “Sergeant Detree, what can I do for you?” While Lucy Detree may carry a badge from the same police department as Detective Hodge, Sabrina’s experience with her had been quite different. At her worst, Detree had seemed indifferent, but she had always remained professional.

  “I need to meet with you so I can ask some questions, Ms. Salter.”

  “But Detective Hodge gave everybody until tomorrow morning to retain counsel for our interviews,” Sabrina said. She didn’t know what she would do if Neil couldn’t accompany her to her interview. She knew from experience not to meet with the police without representation.

  “It’s not really about this case,” Sergeant Detree said.

  Not really about this case? Was Lucy Detree setting her up? Was she trying to get her to talk without a lawyer? Sabrina wasn’t sure. She didn’t want to be naive, but she also didn’t want to appear uncooperative. Sabrina struggled whenever asked to choose between being a compliant “good girl” or one who knew how to watch out for herself, especially when the line blurred and her survival was linked to her acquiescence to authority. Lucy Detree saved her from herself.

  “Look, you can decline to answer any question you’d like until you get a lawyer. I’m just looking for your help.”

  “When do I have to come to the station?” Sabrina asked.

  “You don’t. Meet me at Villa Nirvana in an hour,” Detree said, hanging up before Sabrina had a chance to respond.

  Sabrina dropped Girlfriend off at Henry’s condo where she would be cool in the air conditioning. Next, she stopped by Little Olive’s food truck to grab a grilled pesto and cheese panini and a lemonade to fortify herself before the appointment.

  She drove to Hawksnest Beach, where she miraculously found an empty parking spot. Sabrina took her sandwich and headed for the shade under the pavilion, looking for a brief respite from the Keating saga, only to stumble upon Jack and Paul sitting at a picnic table littered with cell phones, lined yellow legal pads, and a number of empty cans of Carib beer.

  “Hey, Sabrina. Come join us,” Jack said, waving her over to their table. So much for a moment of quiet reflection. Sabrina trudged over, placing her sandwich and drink on the table.

  “Looks like corporate headquarters, Caribbean-style.”

  “We were just trying to connect with the corporate lawyers to see what they recommend about whether we need representation during our interviews with the police,” Jack said. Sabrina could see him eyeing her sandwich. She was starving, even though she had breakfast, but remembered her manners. Ruth had taught her you should always thin the soup for a friend. The Keatings weren’t exactly friends, but they were her guests. She took her jackknife off the small tool belt she always wore and cut it into three wedges.

  “Here, try a bite of my sandwich. So what did the corporate lawyers say?”

  “That they would be happy to come down for a week or two and help us sort it out,” Paul said, laughing and shaking his head at the same
time.

  “This is really good,” Jack grinned as a dab of cheese slid down his chin.

  “Seriously?” Sabrina asked, handing Jack a napkin. She pictured a team of demanding, uptight corporate lawyers housed at Villa Nirvana. The prospect renewed her annoyance at Henry and his insistence they take on the villa, which she never wanted to step into again. But then she remembered that if Detective Hodge had his way, she never would have to deal with Villa Nirvana or any of their other ten villas again.

  “Actually, Gavin had already consulted with them. He authorized them to send a couple of criminal lawyers down here from New York. They’re also licensed in the Virgin Islands. This is going to cost the company a bundle,” Paul said.

  “He shouldn’t be acting on his own like that. We’ve got to rein him in. He’s acting like we’re already retired, for crying out loud. Geez, we’ve got at least another three years before he gets to call the shots.” Jack took a sip of Carib.

  “Yeah, well I doubt we’ll be able to retire even then, the way things are going. Can you picture Gavin and Sean running the company without Elena? Talk about oil and water,” Paul said, dabbing his mouth with the napkin Sabrina had provided. Even at a picnic table on a beach, he had a commanding presence as if he were sitting at the head of a conference table in a boardroom.

  “Was Elena that important to the company? I thought she had only recently started working at Keating Construction,” Sabrina asked.

  “She was bright enough, for sure. But the real value she brought was bringing balance to the company. And the ability to keep the peace between the brothers,” Paul said.

  “She had the admiration of my older son, which doesn’t happen often, believe me. And she tamed my younger son, which is nothing short of a miracle, according to my wife.” Jack opened another can of Carib.

  “Elena wasn’t like most women, if you’ll forgive me for saying. She had a keen sense of business, coupled with an emotional distance, which gave her objectivity. I never saw her be anything but calm and contemplative. Until that night when she became hysterical about the prenup,” Paul said.

  “She totally lost it. It was like someone else had moved into her body. Bizarre,” Jack added.

  Chapter Thirty

  Sabrina was surprised to find the gate at Ditleff Point open with no police officer manning the gatehouse. Only one police cruiser sat outside Villa Nirvana. Sabrina parked behind it and climbed the short steps to the great room, where Lucy Detree was opening windows and doors. The stench of spoiled food filled Sabrina’s nostrils. Dirty plates littered the tables around the room. She gagged as she joined Sergeant Detree in opening the French doors overlooking the pool, where insects had infested the plates left behind by the police.

  “Gross,” Sabrina said. A variety of bugs dispersed after their feast was interrupted.

  “He’s disgusting,” Lucy Detree muttered under her breath.

  “Excuse me?” Sabrina had barely heard Sergeant Detree’s words, which could only refer to Detective Hodge.

  “It’s disgusting,” Sergeant Detree said louder.

  “Look, I know you want to talk to me, but do you mind doing it while I soak these plates before I need to have an exterminator out here?” Sabrina began stacking plates. She wished she had plastic gloves on.

  “Sure.” Lucy Detree began making a pile of dishes, to Sabrina’s surprise.

  They carried the plates into the kitchen and placed them on the counter next to the deep stainless steel double sink. Sabrina ran the hot water from the faucet until it was near scalding, then put the stacks Sergeant Detree handed her into the sinks while she drizzled dish soap over them. Their silent camaraderie disarmed whatever apprehension Sabrina had had about talking to the Sergeant.

  “Thank you. Would you like to sit at the counter while we talk? I can probably find some ice tea or seltzer downstairs in the service kitchen if you’d like,” Sabrina offered.

  “I’m fine,” Lucy Detree said, sitting on the same stool Sabrina had found Sean Keating at on the morning that should have been his wedding day. So many things had happened in such a short time. Sabrina felt dizzy. She slid onto the stool opposite the policewoman, grateful to be off her feet, comforted by the soft breeze coming through the windows overlooking Fish Bay.

  “Where is everyone else? I thought there would still be police officers here,” Sabrina said.

  “They released the scene a little while ago. Your people can come back, as long as it’s just the owners. No renters. Yet.”

  Sabrina was encouraged by the word “yet.”

  “I’ll let them know,” Sabrina said. She doubted Sean, his parents, or his sister would want to return to Villa Nirvana now or ever. She wouldn’t be surprised if the villa went on the market after the murder had been solved.

  “Sabrina . . . may I call you that?” Lucy Detree started.

  “Of course,” Sabrina replied.

  “What do you know about the so-called skinny-dippers?”

  Sabrina almost fell off her stool. All Lucy Detree wanted to ask her about was the silly skinny-dippers? Well, hallelujah. This was one conversation she didn’t mind having with the police.

  “They’re a pudgy white couple who seem to know when villas are unoccupied. They come and skinny-dip in the pools. Until recently, they’d only been spotted by people in neighboring villas. I saw them myself the night I took the Keatings up to stay in Bella Vista on Bordeaux Mountain. The Ten Villas online availability schedule showed it as unoccupied, so I guess that’s why they hit it.”

  “But none of your occupied villas have been hit?”

  “Life has been so crazy, I almost forgot. They hit Villa Mascarpone yesterday. You remember where that is, don’t you?” Sabrina asked. She didn’t want to mention the murder that took place there just months before for fear of ruining the collaborative tone of the conversation.

  “Of course. Go on,” Sergeant Detree said.

  “The people renting it had been shopping at Mongoose Junction. When they returned to the villa, they apparently interrupted the skinny-dippers.” Sabrina was curious why the police were so interested in the annoying, not-so-funny couple when there was a murderer loose on the island, but knew better than to ask.

  “Why didn’t they report it to us?” Sergeant Detree asked.

  Gulp.

  “I said I would do it for them.” Just when she was building rapport with Lucy Detree, Sabrina realized she had once again stepped on her own feet.

  “Is there any reason you didn’t?” Sergeant Detree leaned forward, folding her hands on the counter.

  “I just forgot. It seemed like a petty crime compared to what happened out here.” Sabrina sat back on her stool, resisting the intensity of Sergeant Detree’s gaze.

  “Sabrina, are there any details about the skinny-dippers’ visits to your villas you can remember? Anything else about their appearance or behavior?”

  Sabrina sat in silence for a few seconds concentrating on the two occasions she knew about.

  “Just that they appear to be middle-aged and chubby. Oh, and they always leave a hibiscus floating in the pool. It’s kind of their signature. Maybe a ‘Thank you for letting us use your pool.’”

  Lucy Detree sat up straight on her stool.

  “Hibiscus. You know, I don’t see any hibiscus here at Villa Nirvana. Funny, because they are everywhere all over the island,” she said.

  “The bride wouldn’t hear of it. She said they were too ‘common.’ She liked exotic, fragrant flowers. Gardenias were her favorite. That’s why you see them everywhere here. They were the only flowers being used for the wedding. An all-white theme. Elena sure knew what she liked and what she didn’t,” Sabrina said.

  “So finding a red hibiscus blossom in the pool here might be significant.”

  “Absolutely.” Sabrina was astounded by the possibility that the skinny-dippers might be killers.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Why are you still here?” Gavin Keating ask
ed, entering the kitchen as quietly as a cat approaching a mouse.

  Sabrina could see Lucy Detree was as stunned by his entry as she had been. Sabrina had never been a fan of surprises, but the Sergeant’s displeasure at the sudden sight of Gavin was even more apparent as she rose off her stool and casually moved her hand over her right hip, where her gun holster sat. She stood and faced Gavin squarely.

  Rather than back off, Gavin scanned Sergeant Detree from the top of her head down over her body to her feet, then smirked. Sabrina was galled at his audacity.

  “Detective Hodge said the crime scene had been cleared. So why are you here, Officer? And why are you here, Sabrina? I thought you’d understand your services are no longer needed since you can’t seem to be able to provide the kind of security a villa of this caliber requires,” Gavin said.

  “Mr. Keating, simply because a crime scene has been cleared does not mean the crime has been solved. A murder still occurred here, and if we need to return to continue our investigation, I assure you that is exactly what we will do. I hope you will cooperate. Obstruction of justice is a serious crime in the Virgin Islands.” Sergeant Detree crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  “I don’t work for you, Gavin. I signed a contract with Sean Keating. Only he can fire me, and I doubt he will.” Sabrina rose from her stool, standing next to Lucy Detree.

  “Why would he? Ten Villas is a top-notch management company,” Sergeant Detree said.

  “Well then, why don’t you see if you can manage those dirty dishes?” Gavin stormed out of the room.

  Sabrina turned to Lucy Detree, who chuckled with her.

  “Thanks.”

  “Why is Gavin so upset? What’s going on?” Anneka Lund asked, sweeping into the kitchen.

  “Why are you here, Mrs. Lund?” Sabrina returned her question with another. She remembered Sergeant Detree ejecting her from Villa Nirvana less than forty-eight hours before. Would she have to do it again?