A passing thought intrigued her. With the situation she was in, it could be useful to have a dog. For comfort and companionship but potentially for protection, too. In a fleeting moment she considered visiting the St. Thomas animal shelter. At least it was fun trying on the idea for size.
Taking a seat on the sand with her knees pulled close to her and her arms wrapped around them, she continued to watch the boy and his dog. Appearing to be around ten years old, the young child had light skin and straight brown, neatly trimmed hair that flopped loosely as he jumped and ran. He clapped his hands with excitement as the dog retrieved the toy and galloped back toward him, splashing water in his wake.
Noticing some snorkelers off to the right side of the bay, Olivia flashed back to a day trip she and her mother had taken several years earlier to St. John. They drove her Jeep to Red Hook, put it on the ferry, and took the twenty-minute ride to the U.S. Virgin Island that was two-thirds national park. Once the ferry docked at Enighed Pond outside of Cruz Bay, they headed over to Trunk Bay, a popular place for snorkeling with an underwater trail marked with points of interest. As in the rest of the Caribbean, the water was crystal clear. The placards could be read easily. After an unforgettable experience snorkeling together, the afternoon was topped off by a ride around the island on the meandering, circuitous roads, past several other picturesque bays until they eventually found their way back to the ferry. They enjoyed an early dinner at one of the small family-run yet highly-acclaimed restaurants in town and then returned to St. Thomas. For Olivia, the day had come to an end far too soon but was etched in her memory forever.
Sensing someone approaching from her left, Olivia noticed the couple had returned from their walk down the beach. The way they had their eyes on the boy suggested a connection between them. Parents? They called to him and he waved but quickly returned to playing with his dog. They didn’t appear to be in a hurry and let the pair continue to frolic in the blue water of the bay.
Olivia spoke from behind the parents. “They look like they’re best friends.”
The couple turned in unison. The father seemed eager to engage her. “Yes, they really are.”
Standing up, Olivia brushed the sand from her backside and walked the few yards that separated them to allow a conversation without raising their voices. “Are you guys from around here?”
The woman glanced sideways at the man, looking for him to respond.
“Yes, actually, we are. Not originally, of course. We moved here a couple years ago. My work brought us here.”
It seemed as though he didn’t want to elaborate, as if it was a bone of contention between the couple. But then he continued. “This dog has been a lifesaver for us. Our Jeremy,” he motioned toward the water, “didn’t handle the move well. He is mildly autistic, and the dramatic change was almost too much for him to handle.”
“Almost?” the wife piped in, sounding cynical. She looked tired with dark circles under her eyes.
The man grimaced but continued. “He had made such progress with his therapy back in the States, to the point where he could be mainstreamed into the classroom with all the other kids. You could tell he was proud of himself and happy. Then we made this move and his world caved in. He regressed and didn’t want to go to school at all. Someone suggested getting a dog for him and, honestly, we didn’t know if we could handle caring for a dog on top of our challenges with Jeremy. We’d never had one before so we were resistant to the idea. Finally, we stopped into the humane society to find out more about it. Turns out we could foster a dog on a trial basis to see if it could work for us. With no commitment to keep the dog, we took the next step and looked at what they had available. We were stunned by the sheer number of eyes staring into ours, begging us to save them. It was heartbreaking.”
As he took a moment to reflect, his wife took over the dialogue. “What I found amazing was the number of black dogs there were. Apparently black dogs are less likely to get adopted than lighter-colored dogs. They told us it’s called ‘Black Dog Syndrome.’ I think that’s terrible. It’s like racism for dogs.”
Her husband chuckled at her comment. “That’s one way of looking at it.” Resuming his story, he shifted his feet in the sand.
“We brought our son back to see a few dogs we had identified as a possible match. He didn’t seem interested at first. In fact, he was overwhelmed by the noise of all the animals in unison. A lot were barking for attention and pawing at the front of their cages. We thought we had made a huge mistake. But when Jeremy met this sweet pup, he was sitting there not making a sound. Seemed very timid. Jeremy walked right up to the cage and the dog leaned toward him. Sniffed his hand. Jeremy started talking to him and the two quickly bonded. We knew he was the one we were going to bring home. We’ve had our fingers crossed, but that day was a year and a half ago.”
Olivia couldn’t help but feel delighted at the conclusion of Jeremy’s story. She loved happy endings. “That’s awesome. Good to hear.”
The father appeared to blush. “Wow, I’m sure that was much more information than you wanted to hear. Sorry, I get ecstatic when we have successes like this with him. This was huge for us.”
“Of course it was. No worries. Thanks for sharing with me.”
“Look, we’ve talked your ear off. We’ll let you get back to enjoying the beach.” With that dismissal, they exchanged farewells and the couple continued their walk toward the other end of the beach.
Olivia sat back down and breathed in the salty sea air, listening to the stillness of the bay. There were no waves to speak of, only the gentle sound of water lapping on the beach as it crept up toward the high water mark and then quickly retreated. Wanting to listen to what she needed to hear from within, she tried to clear her head. She sat completely still, becoming one with her surroundings. Listening.
Unaware of the time that had passed, her focus was broken by a jogger crossing her line of sight. She blinked a few times and looked around, noticing the beach was filling up. It looked like there must be a couple cruise ships docked in town.
Olivia started off on a walk to the quieter south end of the beach, turning back from time to time to check on Jeremy and his canine buddy. She returned to the couple’s experience at the shelter. Perhaps she would stop in and check out all of the black dogs.
As she walked along the edge of the bay, subtle waves gently grabbed at her feet, tempting her to walk deeper into the clear turquoise water. Before long she found herself at the end of the beach. Movement to her left caught her eye. A typically elusive mongoose scampered for shelter under the mangroves. Not an unusual sighting, but certainly not common.
Turning back to retrace her steps, she noticed the couple she had spoken with earlier was standing ankle deep, talking to their son and motioning for him to come out of the water. Time was up for dogs on the beach. A lifeguard with red swim trunks, a whistle, and some sort of flotation device tucked under his arm stood nearby, his stance projecting a position of authority. She continued her walk as the threesome and their furry black companion meandered up the beach toward the parking lot with no particular sense of urgency, the young boy scattering sand with his bare feet and slipping farther behind with each step.
Olivia returned to the point where she had entered the beach, but she kept going toward the north end to complete the loop. Her thoughts were scattered as she tried to sort out what had transpired since she arrived on the island.
It was a mystery to her why the police had no knowledge of what had happened to her mother. How could she have disappeared on such a small island, and no one seemed to know about it? And why did someone break into her home? Was it just a random break-in? If not, what were they looking for and did they find it? Who was CK and would he or she know what was going on? The more time she spent thinking about the situation, the more uncomfortable she felt. She had no idea who she was dealing with. Having a dog as a companion didn’t seem like such a stretch of the imagination, but from a practical standpoint, she w
ondered if she would be able to transport it back to Boston with her.
Reaching the end of the beach, Olivia turned to head back toward the car. Several more beachgoers had trickled in and were spread out along the mile-long beach but still had plenty of room in between. Locating the nearest foot shower, she washed off as much of the beach as she could before putting the sandals back on, her wet feet slipping on the soles.
A few yards away, leaning casually against one of the grand palm trees along the beach, a man who appeared to be from the islands watched her as she prepared to leave.
CHAPTER TEN
Leaving beautiful Magens Bay behind, with every intention of returning again with her camera, she urged the Jeep up over the mountain on her way back downtown. On a whim and for curiosity’s sake, Olivia took a slight detour and stopped into The Humane Society of St. Thomas. Successfully locating their new location on Weymouth Rhymer Highway, she pulled into the parking lot. Unexpectedly, Olivia’s stomach twisted into knots at the prospect of a furry friend she might find there. She was torn. Although she longed for a loyal four-legged companion that could be at her side and help to protect her, the responsibility was a bit overwhelming. What if she couldn’t spend the time necessary to care for a dog? She had only cared for a cat in the past. And while she had done a good job with her beautiful Siamese, a dog required much more effort. Yet the possibilities pulled her inside. As she was drawn in by the sound of incessant barking, a grin crossed her face. The anticipation was exciting.
Pulling open the glass door with the humane society’s logo on the top panel, she wrinkled her nose as a sour odor hit her in the face. The air was somewhat cooler than outside, circulating from fans sitting at either end of the counter. Dogs barked loudly out of sight. A young dark-skinned girl greeted her sweetly. After Olivia asked about adoption, the girl excused herself, slipping through a door to the left of the counter, most likely the way to the kennel. Moments later an older woman, who looked like she could be the young girl’s mother, stepped through the door with the girl right behind her. She introduced herself as the person standing in for the director and asked how she could help. Upon learning Olivia was interested in adopting a dog, she handed her an application and told her she would have to fill it out and submit it for approval.
Olivia flipped though the multi-page form with a furrowed brow. Seemed overly complicated. All she wanted to do was to rescue an unfortunate creature from dismal circumstances, and they were looking for her life history and references. Sorely disappointed, Olivia thanked her and asked if she could at least take a look at the dogs available. The woman apologized and said it wasn’t a good time. They were doing a thorough cleaning and encouraged her to stop back again.
Feeling as though she was being shooed away, Olivia frowned and walked slowly toward the door, a sinking feeling in her stomach. The hot, humid outside air hit her in the face but smelled a lot better than the shelter. On the short walk back to the Jeep, she confessed she had been naïve thinking she could simply walk in and pick out a dog to take home, but it didn’t make her feel any better. Climbing back into the car, she tossed the form onto the passenger seat.
Returning downtown, she remembered she still needed to stop into the police station to file a missing persons report. After pulling the Jeep into a lot around the corner from the waterfront, Olivia marched toward the front door of the police station, determined to have a more productive visit than last time. As she reached for the handle, a young attractive male police officer pushed through the door from the other side and then held the door for her to pass. She hesitated for a moment and then walked through, grinning at the gesture. Chivalry wasn’t dead, it just rarely made public appearances anymore.
Her feet stopped abruptly inside. Long line. Lunch hour. The air was hot. Many people were waiting patiently and she prayed the calm would last. Considering leaving and coming back later, she dismissed the reckless notion and dug down deep to find her patience.
After several uncomfortably sticky minutes inching along in line, watching an oscillating fan near the ceiling push the hot air around, Olivia finally reached the front and explained why she was there. She was told she would have to fill out a report and then get back in line to file it. With a wry smile she tried to take it all in stride. Had she really expected anything else? She took the form with her, vowing to fill it out once she got back to her mother’s house. Returning to her mother’s Jeep, she tossed it on the seat next to her, on top of the humane society form.
Heading back up the mountain, her stomach growled in protest. She glanced over to the soggy peanut butter sandwich lying lifeless on the passenger seat and the corners of her mouth turned down. It looked incredibly unappetizing. Although she didn’t want to eat it, she didn’t have much choice. Of course, eating it while navigating her way up the hill was not an option.
After ascending the mountainous road and sliding through the tricky intersection, Olivia steered the Jeep down Route 40 and then down the side street. As she pulled into her mother’s driveway, she tapped the brakes. A car down below, parked next to the house, made her heart skip a beat. Easing the Jeep to the bottom of the hill, she surveyed the grounds and checked inside the car. No one was in sight. Olivia’s stomach tightened. She slowly pulled in next to the unfamiliar vehicle, threw hers into park, and turned off the engine. Quietly she slipped out of her car, leaving the door ajar so as not to attract any more attention to her arrival than was necessary. As she walked past the faded navy blue Ford Explorer, she peered inside the vehicle and then scanned the yard back and forth and studied the windows of the bungalow for movement. Cautiously she inched toward the front door, glancing all around her. Feeling extremely vulnerable, she asked herself if she dared to enter the house. Were they lying in wait? Images of the previous night’s break-in flashed through her mind. After climbing the front steps, she reached out and grabbed the door handle, hesitating to listen for a moment. She stood up straighter and stiffened her back, readying herself to confront whoever was in her mother’s house. As she squeezed the handle, a voice came from the side yard.
“Oh, Olivia, there you are!” Her lilting, effervescent voice broke the tension.
Olivia turned toward Sarah, still hanging tightly onto the door handle. The Realtor she had met the night before made her way around the side of the house, running her hand along the green, healthy bushes as she meandered.
Relief flooded through Olivia as her shoulders relaxed and the rest of her body followed suit. “Sarah, good to see you.” Embarrassed she had forgotten Sarah was stopping by, Olivia acknowledged she was partially in denial the house had to be sold. She descended the front steps and the two women walked toward each other.
Sarah stopped in her tracks a few feet from Olivia and raised her eyebrows. “Wow, you ended up with quite a black eye from last night, didn’t you?”
Taking a step backward, Olivia turned away from her. “Oh, it’s not as bad as I was expecting.”
“Suppose it could always be worse. The good news is it will heal.”
Olivia snickered to herself. “Yeah.”
“Hope you don’t mind. I was taking a look around outside until you got back.”
“Oh, no problem at all. Make yourself at home.” Olivia realized she said that far too often.
“Looks like a really cute bungalow. Can’t wait to see the inside.”
Sarah’s enthusiasm bothered Olivia. It was happening too quickly. She couldn’t bear the idea of letting go of her mother’s house. The cold cruel reality of the matter was it had to be done. And the responsibility lay squarely on her young shoulders.
“Absolutely.” She pretended to be enthusiastic.
“So tell me what your situation is. You mentioned last night this is your mother’s house, but you couldn’t keep it going any longer. What’s going on?” Sarah looked to Olivia to fill in the blanks.
Olivia hesitated and the question hung in the air, pressing her for an answer. It wasn’t an easy one to
tackle, but she knew she needed to level with the agent. Her feelings were still raw, though, and it was difficult for her to talk about it. Finally, she found her voice.
“My mother passed away recently.”
Sarah’s face fell and the palm of her hand found its way to her heart.
“Yeah, it was a complete shock.” Olivia explained how she and her father received a phone call informing them her mother had perished, how her parents were divorced and her father had no interest in keeping the property.
“And how do you feel about it?”
“Oh, God,” she gushed. “I would love to be able to keep it. I adore my mother and I loved being here with her. I would love to move in and build a photography career like she did or at least be able to come once in a while. I just can’t afford that right now. It’s not possible.” Blinking to fight back the tears, she searched for something in the trees to focus on.
“I am sorry, Olivia. . . . You know, maybe this is too soon for you.” Sarah clearly was prepared to bow out and let her have the space and time she needed.
“No.” Olivia paused for a moment. “No. Unfortunately I don’t have much time on the island, and I need to get this taken care of.” The harsh reality nudged her further than she really wanted to go.
“Okay. Let’s take a look inside, and then we can talk about your options.”
“Absolutely,” Olivia said, trying to sound more convincing than she felt, turning to head back to the front door. As soon as she stepped inside with the Realtor at her heels, the sight of the vandalism from the night before made her stop short.
“Oh, no.” Sarah’s eyes quickly scanned the inside of the modest home, resting momentarily on upturned furniture and scattered personal items.
The Empty Chair ~ Murder in the Caribbean Page 11