The Empty Chair ~ Murder in the Caribbean

by Penny Goetjen

  The gallery owner watched her go, shaking her head, stunned by how much the young girl looked like the photographer Liv Benning.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Feeling drained from the hot sun and lack of a sea breeze, by early afternoon Olivia had had her fill of downtown. It was time to head back. But, of course, she had no car. With a not-so-subtle moan she envisioned the long and dangerous walk back up the hill. That didn’t seem to be a good option, but she hated to spend money on a cab. Then it came to her. The open-air safari taxis the locals used were reasonable. Passengers shared the ride and hopped on and off as they traveled all over the island, much like the public transportation buses in the States. Patience was a virtue, though, as the safaris often ran on “island time.”

  Heading back out to the waterfront, she located a taxi stand. After asking people standing around her and each driver that stopped by, she finally got onto what she prayed was the right taxi to get her up the mountain. She crossed her fingers and hoped for the best. After a couple of stops, the taxi pulled up in front of a grocery store. It was a good-sized building made of turquoise corrugated metal, long since faded from the sun.

  Recognizing her opportunity to stock up on essentials, Olivia hopped off onto the sidewalk, realizing too late she would have to pay for another safari taxi to take her up the mountain. But it was a small price to pay. She needed to pick up a few things to sustain her until she could get her mother’s affairs straightened out.

  Crossing the weathered and cracked asphalt parking lot of the grocery store, she stepped carefully to avoid landing in a pothole. The lines for the parking spaces were barely visible, originally painted many years earlier. A handful of small, older model cars occupied a few of the spaces. Some appeared as though they had been in a fender bender or two. Others looked like they would be difficult to start.

  Glancing at the doorway as she approached, Olivia noticed there were people standing around nearby. Three teenagers were conversing in a lively conversation but looked like they had nothing better to do. An older, gray-haired gentleman was seated on an overturned milk crate staring off into the distance, his arms resting on his legs with hands clasped in front of him. An elderly woman standing next to him, clutching a plastic grocery bag on either side of her body, appeared to be waiting for someone to pick her up.

  Olivia passed through the people gathered out front and entered the store, picking up a small carryall basket as she passed the stack. She couldn’t afford the contents of an entire cart. She had to keep it simple. Quickly surveying the aisles, she decided it had the feel of an inner city discount store. The linoleum floor, cracked and missing in places, looked dated and didn’t seem all that clean. There was an interesting smell she couldn’t place and probably didn’t want to know, but it was a little too similar to the pungent odor of something decaying. Directly in front of her was the produce section. Force of habit sent her down that aisle, but she was immediately disappointed. She had forgotten that, despite the year-round balmy temperatures, St. Thomas was not much of an agricultural island. With the exception of rum, almost everything else had to be imported, which made groceries rather costly. The robust fruits and vegetables she was used to enjoying in the summer months in the States were not only more expensive on the islands, but they also tended to look a bit anemic. Olivia wrinkled her nose. On her modest budget, she would have to make do with predominantly non-perishables during her visit.

  Making her way up and down a few more aisles, Olivia could feel eyes on her at every turn, every aisle. She imagined the locals assumed she was a tourist and a few made their curiosity obvious. She tried to shrug it off and focused on picking up enough of the essentials to get her through the next few days. She grabbed bread, cereal, peanut butter, pasta, sauce, cheese, crackers, hummus, and the ever important morning beverage, tea. She grabbed a couple bottles of cheap wine, a Chardonnay off the shelf and a chilled Pinot Grigio from the small refrigerated section. A small carton of milk rounded out the basket and she could check out.

  Fumbling as she removed her groceries from the basket and placed them on the stationary counter, she was anxious to wrap up and exit the store. Sensing still curious eyes, her fingers failed her as she tried to count out the correct number of bills after the cashier announced her total.

  Finally the uncomfortable transaction was over. Grabbing her two plastic, environmentally unfriendly bags, Olivia exited the door, leaving the oglers behind, and made a beeline across the parking lot to where the safari taxi had dropped her off earlier. Once there, she willed the next taxi to arrive as quickly as possible. Feeling hot and drained, she was anxious to get back to her mother’s house. A few other people also waited—a young mother with two restless children in tow who tugged at her arms, and an older, nicely dressed gentleman with three small cloth bags that probably held a week’s worth of food for him. The heat of the day was peaking, and she felt lightheaded. Then she realized she hadn’t bought any drinks. Tap water back at the house would have to do. She kept taking deep breaths, in and out, hoping the dizziness would dissipate. It wasn’t working. Panic rose inside of her.

  A firm hand grasped her upper arm just as her knees buckled, and she landed in a heap on the hot pavement.

  Olivia opened her eyes to see the same blue eyes that had rescued her at the airport. Attempting a smirk, she asked meekly, “What happened?”

  Colton beamed back at her and brushed an errant strand of hair from her forehead. “It seems you shopped ’til you dropped,” he teased, clearly amused by his wit.

  “All right, I’m fine. Really, I’m fine.” Olivia waved off the other bystanders who stood over her and struggled to get to her feet. When she wobbled, Colton put his arm around her and steadied her.

  She stood still for a moment, trying to gather herself.

  “I’d be happy to give you a ride back up the mountain. Here, let me get those bags.”

  Olivia didn’t argue. Feeling drained and weak, she was happy to have the help of someone she knew. Well, someone she was beginning to know. At least a familiar face.

  Colton helped her to his Jeep while carrying her bags. Once she was seated securely in the passenger seat, he tossed her groceries in the back seat, rounded the car, jumped into the driver’s seat and fired it up. He glanced over to her with a concerned look.

  Hating the fact he had to rescue her for the second time, she flushed with embarrassment. Although she tried to be resiliently tough and independent, at the moment she felt frail and totally dependent on him.

  Appearing far too entertained by her predicament, he handed her a water bottle. “Here, drink this.”

  She took it obediently with a sheepish grin on her face.

  “You were lucky I was on my way back from Red Hook. I saw you standing at the taxi stand so I pulled in.” He seemed rather pleased with himself for coming to her rescue again.

  They rode up the mountain in silence. Neither one attempted conversation. Again she wished she had taken the time to pull her hair back. She could only imagine what it would look like by the time she got to her mother’s house. But that was probably the least of her worries at the moment. She sipped from the water bottle until she had drained the last drop, making a mental note to stay hydrated in the future.

  After skillfully negotiating the mountain and the tricky intersection at the top, Colton turned down the street to her mother’s house and then steered the Jeep down the winding driveway and slowly brought it to a stop prematurely before the bottom.

  “Company?”

  Olivia looked up. There was another Jeep at the end of the driveway. A light blue Jeep Wrangler with a soft top. Olivia gasped.

  Her eyes were wide as she jumped out of Colton’s Jeep and strode toward the new arrival, walking slowly as she tried to take it all in. Colton was right behind her. His eyes were almost as wide.

  Olivia turned and looked at him. “What the hell? Is it really hers?”

  Colton shrugged and spoke hesitantly. “I don’t
know.”

  She bit her lip and walked closer, stroking the vehicle as she walked alongside. She didn’t speak. Her mind raced.

  Finally Colton broke the silence. “Is it your mother’s?”

  Avoiding his question momentarily, Olivia devoted her attention to the light blue Jeep. Finally she turned to him and looked deep into his eyes, incredulous. “Yes, I think it is . . . but how could it suddenly show up like this?” It just didn’t seem plausible.

  Colton closed his eyes, pausing for a moment, apparently trying to tread cautiously. Finally he looked directly at her. “I don’t know. I wish I had some answers for you.”

  Suddenly her face lit up as if a light bulb had been turned on, her expression animated with expectations. She bolted toward the house.

  “Mom!” she shrieked, grabbing the screen door handle, practically pulling the door off the hinges. The door slammed behind her as she continued to call for her mother from within the tiny bungalow, running from room to room.

  Colton stayed put and waited for her on the driveway.

  Finally Olivia slowly re-emerged from the house deeply disappointed and saddened. She looked at Colton and shook her head in response to the obvious question hanging in the air. Then, turning away, she walked solemnly back toward what she thought was her mother’s car. Colton reached out to console her with the touch of his hand, but she brushed it off, making it clear she needed space.

  Olivia contemplated if she should call the police and have them come and check it for fingerprints. Was it worth the trouble? She wasn’t sure. Fearing she would regret not calling, she pulled her cell out of her pocket and pressed the buttons for the Virgin Islands Police Department.

  After several rings, a male voice with a thick island accent answered. It took her a few minutes to make him understand who she was, that she had stopped in earlier to report her mother missing, and that her mother’s car showed up unexpectedly while she had been away from her mother’s house. The gentleman at the other end of the phone didn’t seem to have a real sense of urgency. Olivia guessed he wouldn’t have been in a hurry even if his wife was in labor with their first child. At times, she found it challenging to be on the islands. Everyone was on island time. Things didn’t get done as quickly as they did in the States, certainly not as quickly as she would like.

  Olivia finally convinced the officer someone should come out and check for fingerprints and then ended the call. She had a feeling it was going to take a while but vowed to make the best of it.

  “Look, would you like to come in?” she offered to Colton.

  “Sure.” He didn’t seem to have anywhere to get to anytime soon.

  They grabbed her grocery bags out of the back of Colton’s Jeep and headed to the bungalow. Olivia stole another look at her mother’s car as she walked by with Colton close behind her. She longed to get under the hood and check it out, see what condition it was in.

  “Make yourself at home, Colton.” Her words sounded odd as soon as they left her mouth. She wished she hadn’t spoken them but tried to let it go.

  Without wasting any time, she uncorked the bottle of Pinot Grigio since it was already chilled and offered him a glass. His face lit up, apparently glad to see happy hour was starting early and readily accepted the wine.

  Realizing she had perishables, Olivia considered the refrigerator for a moment. She hadn’t been brave enough to open the door yet.

  “Colton, go ahead outside. I’ll just put these things away and be right out.” After the screen door latched behind him, she hesitated for a moment, deciding what to do. She wasn’t going to tackle cleaning the entire fridge. That would surely require a block of time she wasn’t willing to devote yet. Only the cheese, hummus, and milk needed to be kept cool so she improvised and put the three items in one plastic bag. Opening the freezer, which was barren with the exception of a couple of ice trays, she tossed the bag in for the time being. With a grin on her face she carried her glass out to the gallery. She had bought herself some time.

  Olivia joined Colton at the railing where they enjoyed the wine and lazily admired the view out to Magens Bay.

  “God, I never tire of this.” She was avoiding the issue sitting in the driveway.

  “I know what you mean. I feel the same way.”

  “It’s such a shame I’ll have to sell it,” she lamented.

  He turned to her, clearly surprised at the revelation. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah, there’s no way I can hang onto it. I’m going to have to put it on the market. I certainly can’t afford to keep it, and I know my father has no intention of paying to keep it going.” She choked on the words.

  Colton let her last statement hang in the air for a while, probably connecting the fact her parents lived a long way apart from each other. They stood in silence, leaning on the railing and taking in the view. A couple of small boats bobbed in the bay below, perhaps fishing away the afternoon, not seeming to have a care in the world.

  As expected, the police didn’t arrive right away, so Olivia retraced her steps back inside to refill their glasses, returning to the gallery with a small plate of crackers and hummus. They settled into the chairs at the bistro table, nibbled busily, made small talk and silently wondered if the police were ever going to show up. Half an hour turned into an hour. The hour turned into two. Mid-afternoon turned into late afternoon. They had long since polished off the first bottle of wine, but she didn’t dare pull out the second. Happy hour needed to be over, and the police needed to show up and do their job.

  Olivia also acknowledged she was perfectly capable of waiting for the police on her own. “Colton, this is silly for both of us to have our afternoons completely wasted. I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, but who knows if they will ever show up. I’m sure you have plenty of other priorities.” Again she found herself trying to get rid of him, but he didn’t seem to want to leave.

  “Don’t be silly. Of course I’ll wait with you. It’s not a problem at all. Besides, the view is amazing.” He turned his body away from the table to face toward the bay and put his feet up on the railing as if to settle in, his brown leather flip-flops dangling from his toes.

  Olivia noticed for the first time the pinkie toe on his left foot was missing. She found that slightly amusing. There was undoubtedly a story behind it.

  “And the company is . . . well, just as amazing.” He turned his head back toward her with a twinkle in his eye, appearing too elated for her comfort level.

  She blushed in response, unable to think of a comeback that would convey to him she needed her space and wanted him to move on. A noise in the driveway caused them to turn their heads in unison. A late model dark blue SUV with bright yellow stripes and “V. I. Police” along the sides made its way down the steep, sinuous drive. As the cruiser got closer, Olivia could read the department’s motto emblazoned on the side. “WORKING WITH YOU 24/7.” Very comforting. Olivia sprang from her seat and bolted around to the front of the house, sensing Colton wasn’t far behind. A young, small framed, dark-skinned policeman exited the patrol car, trying to stand tall and look important on his walk over to take care of the less-than-important task he’d been assigned.

  “Miss Benning?”

  “Yes.”

  He glanced down to a small spiral notebook as if double-checking what he had been sent to do. “You reported a missing car?” His island accent revealed his roots.

  Olivia fluttered her eyelashes and cringed, trying to keep her cool and maintain her patience. “It was missing but suddenly showed up.” She glanced over to the light blue Jeep in question.

  A puzzled look crossed the rookie officer’s face. Obviously, he did not see where there was a problem. “So maybe a friend borrowed it without asking and then returned it?”

  Olivia frowned, pursing her lips. “No.” Her voice was firm.

  All eyes were on her. She let the silence speak for her for a moment.

  Finally she began to fill in the blanks for
the young man. “Look, I am here on the island because I got a phone call from someone telling me my mother had passed away unexpectedly. This is her house.” She gestured with one hand toward the bungalow behind her. “When I got here yesterday, her car was not in the driveway. This morning I stopped into the police station to find out what happened to her, and no one knew anything about it. And they told me to come back tomorrow to report her as a missing person. When I got back here this afternoon, the car was sitting in the driveway. Something is not right about all of this. You need to see if there are any fingerprints on the car you could use to identify someone with.”

  The officer stood still, listening to her story, blinking more frequently than was normal. His unchanging expression gave the appearance he was uninterested in the details. “So . . . what happened to your mother?”

  “The person I talked to on the phone said it was some sort of a boating accident.”

  “Oh, then if it was a maritime accident, I’m not sure I should be getting involved. That’s not my jurisdiction.”

  “Look, I know that’s what it sounds like, but all the pieces are not adding up. Could we just do the prints so we have them if we need them?” Wincing at her lame attempt to persuade him, she needed to find a way to be more convincing. He looked like he was ready to turn around and climb back into his department-issued SUV.

  Colton stepped closer and took charge. He extended his hand and shook firmly. “Officer . . . Colton.”

  Olivia found it odd he never introduced himself with a last name.

  “I’m sure you have a busy afternoon and undoubtedly a lot more important things to be taking care of. But if you wouldn’t mind indulging us for the couple of minutes it would take to get a few prints and be on your way, we would appreciate it. Who knows, it may end up being totally unnecessary. But then again, if this thing turns into something totally unexpected and we lost the opportunity to get vital evidence, then that would be a crime. And I know you would rather be a hero who took the time to help a young woman.”