The Empty Chair ~ Murder in the Caribbean

by Penny Goetjen

  Looking toward Colton, she was struck by how his spontaneous warm smile penetrated within her unexpectedly. They walked around the back of the truck, and he opened the passenger side door and motioned for her to get in. Hesitating for a moment as she considered what she had gotten herself wrapped up in, she figured she was in it that far and decided to keep going. Olivia climbed onto the bench seat, next to Colton’s friend, and then Colton slid in next to her. Her nostrils flared as she detected a pungent odor that permeated the cab, a mixture of stale cigarettes and wet dog. Instantly she felt trapped. Had she made a terrible mistake accepting a ride from these guys? She turned to Colton and he looked into her eyes. Feeling a rush of emotions she wasn’t sure she understood, she fought to control them. Colton spoke unexpectedly.

  “Hey, David, this is Olivia.”

  He grunted his reply.

  In turn, Olivia uttered a guttural response that sounded something like a “Hey.” Glancing quickly toward David, she gave him a once over. Clearly he hadn’t placed a high priority on combing his hair or putting on fresh clothes that morning. Looking rather disheveled, he was sporting short, reddish brown hair sticking up all over his head that made him look like he had just rolled out of bed. Olivia mused that perhaps he had.

  The trio inched through traffic in silence until they reached the airport exit. A couple speed bumps later, they were driving along the solar panels lining one side of the runway.

  Sounding as if he would be glad to get rid of her, David asked where she needed to be dropped off. She explained she was going over to the north side of the island, just over the mountain on the way to Magens Bay. She detected a bit of discontent on his part but shrugged it off. He would have to get over that. His friend had already committed him.

  The pickup turned right out of Airport Road onto Route 30, a busy, four-lane road that ran along the south side of the island, known more familiarly as Veterans Drive. Farther east, it became Waterfront Highway and then narrowed to a two-lane road and became Frenchman Bay Road and then Bovoni Road as it meandered its way toward Red Hook. Of course, none of the locals used street names or route numbers. The island was small enough they didn’t bother.

  Olivia and the guys were heading toward Charlotte-Amalie, the largest town on St. Thomas and the capital of the U.S. Virgin Islands. Traveling on the left side of the road was a dramatic change from Boston, one Olivia found exciting. It usually took a couple days to get used to driving on the “wrong” side no matter how many times she visited but, nonetheless, she enjoyed the challenge. Some roads on the island didn’t have any lines painted on them, or they had worn away over time. Drivers had to use their best guess of where the center line should be and where their half of the road was, adding to the challenge she embraced wholeheartedly.

  With the windows down and the tropical breeze streaming in, they passed a section of small local businesses—gas stations, a lumber yard, empty store fronts, and a grocery store.

  Colton seemed anxious to get a conversation going. “So, Olivia, what brings you to St. Thomas?”

  She was expecting that question. It was a logical ice breaker.

  “I have some business to take care of.” Olivia tried to answer his question while being as vague as possible. She didn’t want to share too much information, at least not before she got to know him a little better, if she would even have the chance. He pressed further.

  “What kind of work do you do?”

  She patted her camera bag, still hung on one shoulder and resting on the opposite hip. “I’m a photographer.” She paused, anticipating his questioning to continue.

  Large cranes off to the right at a commercial port loaded shipping containers the size of semi-trailers onto a huge cargo ship. A junior high school that looked a bit neglected with overgrown grass was just beyond the port.

  “Oh, are you here for a photo shoot?”

  “Not exactly. I have some other business to wrap up. What do you do?” She tried to take the focus off herself and switch it to him.

  “Well . . .” He paused as if trying to create suspense. “I’m a boat captain by day and musician by night.”

  His answer surprised her. She looked to him for more details.

  “I take people out on a boat for day excursions, mostly tourists, and then evenings my band plays different bars on the island and over on St. John, and we practice a lot in between.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty busy. But I love what I do.” He ran his fingers through his hair and then rested his elbow on the open window.

  “Are you guys any good?” She couldn’t keep from smiling as she teased.

  Colton laughed, looking forward through the windshield. “Yeah, we’re not too bad. You should come hear us while you’re here.” He turned toward her to see her reaction.

  “I just might have to find the time to do that.” She maintained a straight face and didn’t let on she was more than marginally curious.

  A red light brought them to a stop next to a cemetery on the left where, due to the fact the island was essentially a big rock, the deceased were entombed above ground in rectangular cement boxes painted bright white. There was nowhere to dig down. Some were stacked two or three high with colorful plastic flowers resting on top. On each of her visits, Olivia couldn’t pass the cemetery without having strange images flash through her mind as she tried to reconcile the custom with what she was used to in the States.

  Across lanes of traffic on the right, a neatly painted sign announced the entrance to Frenchtown on the corner of Rue de Saint Barthelemy. The Frenchtown post office stood proudly on the opposite corner.

  After the light turned green, the old white pickup lurched into the intersection and Olivia caught a familiar sight. From the south, a seaplane was coming in for a landing in the harbor. It reminded her of a trip she and her mother took to St. Croix on a photo shoot for a promotional brochure.

  Since Olivia was visiting at the time, her mother didn’t hesitate to take her along as a photographer’s assistant. She was excited to ride inside the small plane with an aisle splitting three seats—one on the left, two on the right, for a total of eleven rows. Sitting close to the front, Olivia was fascinated by the pilots manipulating all the complicated instruments. It was a relatively short trip, similar in length to her flight from San Juan but noisier inside the fuselage. The concept of taking off and landing on the water was thrilling to young Olivia. Once the photo shoot was complete, she and her mother took advantage of some down time, rescheduling their return trip to a later flight. Heading to Christiansted, they poked through the quaint shops and strolled on the boardwalk, taking in the Danish architecture and picturesque bay before grabbing a bite to eat in a restaurant along the waterfront. Great memories for Olivia.

  “Now David, here, is a pretty talented guy.” Colton seemed to be deflecting the focus from himself. “He plays bass in our band and can fix just about anything. Cars, boats, plumbing problems, you name it. If you have something that’s broken, except maybe a broken heart, he can fix it. Right, David?” Colton smiled broadly at his poke.

  Olivia glanced over and noticed David had a wry smirk on his face. He remained silent but clearly enjoyed the unexpected endorsement in spite of the jab.

  An assortment of shops located in renovated old warehouses dominated the downtown shopping area they passed on the left. Deep open water on the right allowed ferries and private yachts to dock next to the road. Fort Christian loomed ahead of them, looking out over the harbor.

  Just past Vendors’ Plaza where the outdoor market was held, they took a left onto Route 35 that traveled up over Crown Mountain, the beginning of which was called Hospital Gade. The word “Gade,” pronounced “gah dah,” was a holdover from the days when the Danish ruled the island. On the corner was the criminal justice building painted in an orange yellow that housed the Virgin Islands Police Department, the Territorial Court and related offices. Partway up the road w
as the sign for Blackbeard’s Castle on the left. Farther up the mountain, Route 35 changed names a couple of times but no one really kept track. It was a narrow, winding rough road with potholes, hairpin turns, and a yellow line that faded in and out along the way. Earthen walls lined the mountain side, and dramatic drop-offs defined the side open to the harbor. A couple stretches were unexpectedly steep, and good brakes were requisite, particularly on the way down. When encountering an oncoming car, they occasionally had to slow down and pull to the side to allow room for both vehicles to pass.

  Houses randomly punctuated the sides of the road. Some were meticulously cared for with gates at the end of the driveway while others needed maintenance. A few had suffered such extensive damage from the last hurricane they had been abandoned by homeowners who had no insurance. Olivia was intrigued by the handful of small residences perched precariously on the side of the mountain on stilts with barely enough space to pull a car off the road to park next to them.

  “Where exactly are we heading? Do you have a house?”

  David remained strangely quiet, not engaging in the small talk.

  “Yeah, it’s my mother’s. . . . A small place off of Crown Mountain Road.”

  “Sounds great. I’m not too far from there, over on Skyline Road. It’s not much, but the view is incredible. Never get tired of it.”

  Olivia understood that sentiment. She believed she could stare at the view of Magens Bay from her mother’s place forever and it would never get old. The thought of having to put it on the market broke her heart. Guess David wouldn’t be able to help her with that.

  The old pickup struggled to reach the top of the hill from the south side of the island where 35 met Skyline Drive from the east. Just beyond the intersection, 35 curved sharply to the right and plummeted downhill on the way to Magens Bay. It was a challenging spot where four roads met with steep inclines and a couple of blind curves thrown in. Those coming up from Magens Bay on the north side did not have a stop sign. The hill was steep, and the final sharp curve made it nearly impossible to do anything other than roll right through.

  As if trying to recover from the steep climb, the aging truck coughed and sputtered as David steered it through the busy intersection and then left onto Route 40, which became Skyline Drive heading west. Another turn put them onto Crown Mountain Road. Olivia instructed David to slow down when they were close to her mother’s driveway. It had been a while since she’d been there, and she didn’t want to overshoot it and then have to turn around and go back. It was harder to find from the other direction.

  Before long, the trio was heading down a steep and narrow, partially paved driveway. The asphalt was cracked from baking in the Caribbean sun and loosely resembled cobblestones. Olivia was excited to see the house again. David negotiated a couple turns on the way down to the house perched at the top of a hill overlooking Magens Bay and out to the Atlantic Ocean. When the bay came into view, Olivia gasped.

  Colton appeared pleased with her reaction. David stopped the truck just before the end of the driveway, to the right of the house.

  Sitting on approximately half an acre of land, the cute little bungalow was painted in bright, colorful colors just as she had remembered. Her mother loved it that way. Sunny yellow, vivid coral, and vibrant turquoise. The Caribbean was one of the few places you could paint your house like that and get away with it. It looked like such a happy place. At least it used to be. A small hand-painted wooden sign on the front of the house read, “Serenity Villa.”

  Opening the passenger side door, Colton stepped out of the truck allowing Olivia to slide across. Apparently assuming the drop-off wouldn’t take long, David left the engine running. Colton shut the door, leaned in, and exchanged a few words. His friend turned off the motor in response. Reaching into the back, Colton grabbed her suitcase and turned toward the house, clearly hanging behind to observe her walking slowly to the front door.

  Enamored by the sight of the familiar bungalow, she stopped several feet from the bottom of the front steps, taking it all in, mesmerized.

  Colton caught up quickly. “Nice place.” He sounded sincere.

  His words popped her daydream bubble. “Yeah,” Olivia giggled nervously, “it’s everything you could want in a Caribbean hideaway.”

  Turning back, she scanned the driveway where her mother’s Jeep should have been parked. A light blue Jeep Wrangler. Olivia delighted in driving it when she came to visit. It was a wind in your hair, barrel roll down a grassy hill on a hot summer day kind of fun. “It’s gone.” She spoke softly, to herself. Why was it missing? What was she going to do for transportation? An unsettled feeling crept into her bones at the unexpected turn of events.

  Returning her gaze toward the house, she realized something there didn’t look right either. Something was missing. Her mother’s kayak. A bright orange one-person kayak she loved to take out to explore the coastline of the island. When Olivia visited they rented a second one for her to use. Her mother stored hers on the side wall along the gallery. The hooks were there but were strikingly empty.

  “Do you think your mom’s home?”

  “Uh, well, I don’t . . . she . . .” Olivia struggled to say the words. “No, she’s not here.” She fought the emotions pushing to the surface. “Her car’s not here,” she spoke softly, straining to maintain a steady voice, intent on keeping the conversation on the obvious.

  Colton looked puzzled. “Well then let me at least make sure you can get into the house.”

  “Oh, that won’t be necessary.” She reached down to take the suitcase handle from him, but her thoughts diverted quickly elsewhere. Remembering her manners, she turned, took a couple steps, and yelled over to the truck, “Thanks, David. I appreciate the ride.”

  Colton’s friend waved once, appearing to be anxious to get going. The truck engine stirred to life.

  Turning back toward the house, Olivia could see Colton had already closed the distance to the steps of the bungalow, her suitcase in hand. She was through protesting and just followed behind. Holding the screen door, he stepped back to allow her to open the inside door. At some point over the years, the key to the front door had disappeared, but her mother never seemed too concerned about it. She simply stopped locking up when she left. With her eyes closed and her fingers mentally crossed, Olivia turned the knob. Much to her relief, it turned easily.

  Leveraging her body weight against the door, she coaxed it open as the wood groaned against the pressure. Pushing it inward, she entered the small shadow-filled living room of the house with Colton on her heels. The air smelled a bit stale as if the house had been closed up for a while, yet she noticed a couple windows were cracked on the far side in the kitchen. Perhaps her mother had intended to be gone for only a short time.

  An uneasiness stirred within her, and she no longer felt comfortable with Colton inside her mother’s house. Wanting to be alone, she tried to dismiss him as quickly as possible.

  “Colton, it was nice to meet you. Thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem at all. Like I said, I’m just down the road from you. Not too far away. If you need anything . . . well, actually, you must be hungry. How about grabbing a bite to eat? That is, if you don’t already have plans. Looks like you are without transportation at the moment, and who knows what your mother has left for you in the fridge. I’m sure mine is questionable after being away.” He laughed as if recalling a particularly disgusting fridge situation. “I’ll have David drop me off at my place. I’ll grab my car, and I can swing back here in a little while. Say half an hour? Does that give you enough time? We’ll grab something downtown. I know I’m starving. You must be, too.”

  When he began his pitch, she was ready to turn him down, thinking of several reasons she couldn’t join him, but by the time he got to the part about grabbing dinner downtown, he had her. She was too tired to think about cooking. Who knew if there was anything edible in the kitchen anyway, and she certainly had no way to go pic
k up food. The nearest little neighborhood store was not within walking distance and walking on the winding, curvy roads was dangerous at best. She would have to be careful how much money she spent on dinner.

  “Thanks, that sounds nice.” Even she could hear the fatigue and relief in her voice.

  “All right. See you then.” He sounded pleased.

  They quickly exchanged phone numbers and Olivia followed Colton back outside. David had already turned the truck around and was waiting with the front of it pointing up the driveway. Colton barely had his door shut when the vehicle started back up the steep hill.

  As Olivia returned to the solace inside her mother’s house, the screen door closed with a loud click. Memories came rushing back to her, yet it felt different than she remembered. An emptiness filled the space. It was hard to believe her mother was gone. Olivia felt painfully alone. “Oh, Mom . . .” As she closed her eyes, her heart ached like it never had before.

  Standing in the small living area just inside the front door, she peered through the house and out to the unforgettable view of Magens Bay on the north side of the island. It was a horseshoe-shaped bay that ran northwest to southeast with a beautiful mile-long, heart-shaped white sand beach along the bottom of the horseshoe on the southeastern side. Peterborg Peninsula separated the bay from the Atlantic Ocean. Hans Lollik Island lay to the north of the peninsula with Little Hans Lollik tucked behind it, out of sight. Magens Bay Beach was a favorite of locals and tourists alike and was touted as one of the best beaches in the world by travel magazines. When cruise ships were in dock, many passengers found their way to Magens Bay. Although it tended to attract a crowd, the length of the beach enabled everyone to stake out a claim for a spot to spread a beach towel. It was a full-service beach with a snack bar, showers, changing rooms, and water sport rentals.