Olivia finally fell asleep in the middle of the night but jolted awake in the morning to an odd sound out on the gallery. Blinking sleep out of her eyes, she stumbled toward the sliding glass doors. The sound continued. It was a kind of squawking. A large sea gull was perched on the railing, probably looking for food, perhaps a regular visitor on Colton’s gallery. Sliding the screen door open, Olivia laughed as the gull flapped its wings at the sound but didn’t fly away. He seemed surprisingly comfortable with her presence. She was tempted to retrieve food from the kitchen to feed him but then realized she might be encouraging an unwanted behavior.
But then again, did it matter?
Olivia let it go. She needed to get out of his house. Grabbing a roll and a bottle of water to take with her, she left Colton’s bungalow behind. The morning was already unusually hot and humid.
Feeling drawn to her mother’s place, she tried in vain to push aside the horrible images piling up inside her head on the way there. She coasted down the driveway, guarding against unrealistic hopes of seeing something different at the bottom. As expected the view was the same as the day before. A black, burned-out shell of her mother’s former bungalow. Piles of charred ashes. Hopefully no more bodies sticking out from under it.
Making her way over to her mother’s empty chair, she settled down into it. Fortunately the view out to Magens Bay hadn’t changed. She breathed it in, needing it to be a part of her. Permanently. She got lost in the view. The bright morning sun danced on the sparkling turquoise water of the bay. The sea breeze played with her hair but she barely noticed.
Olivia allowed herself to replay the evening she’d had with Colton. She had felt special in his arms. He had made love to her so gently, she hadn’t wanted it to end. She got lost in the memory. Praying he was okay, she punched his number into her cell to try to reach him. It rang endlessly until eventually his voicemail kicked in. His voice on the greeting sounded odd to her.
As the strong summer sun rose in the sky, she folded her legs underneath her and leaned back in her mother’s chair. Her eyelids grew heavy and she succumbed to her fatigue. Gentle breezes blew as she napped in the sunshine like her cat.
A voice from behind aroused her.
“Olivia!”
She spun around to see a familiar face.
“Sarah.” With a flood of relief at the sight of her friend, Olivia untucked her feet and walked over to greet her, faltering momentarily as her legs recovered from their slumber.
“What the hell happened?” Sarah’s eyes grew wide as she surveyed the property. “I hadn’t heard.”
Abhorred by the atrocity, Olivia turned away and opened her mouth to speak, but the words got caught in her throat. Her gaze darted randomly around the edges of the yard before coming to rest on the burned-out shell of the bungalow, and she fought to push away her anger and pain.
Sarah watched her struggling. She stepped closer and placed a caring hand on her shoulder.
Olivia appreciated the gesture. She reached up and found Sarah’s hand, taking it in hers.
They stood at the edge of the destruction, taking in the senselessness of it, appreciating each other’s company.
Finally Olivia broke away.
“Pretty shitty, isn’t it?” Olivia took a few steps away from the remains of the house, needing to distance herself to be able to talk about it.
“Yeah, I can only imagine how you feel right now. I’m sorry.”
“This was my mother’s world. She was unbelievably happy here. She dreamed of being here forever. I had planned to come down and join her at some point. We could have been an amazing team. . . .” She turned and glanced out to the bay. “God she loved it here.”
“I’m sure she did. What’s not to love?”
Even though Olivia interpreted it as a rhetorical question, she felt compelled to respond. “Yeah, right?” Inching closer to the view, she lamented, “I just wish it didn’t have to end this way.”
“Do they know how it happened?”
Olivia displayed the palm of her hand and turned away, not wanting to discuss it.
Sarah remained silent, seemingly unsure of what to say to make her feel any better. Finally she found her voice. “Hey, listen. Why don’t we go grab a bite to eat? I’m starving, and I haven’t been to Izzies since I met you there the other night. Let me buy you lunch . . . brunch. Whatever time it is. As long as it involves a Bloody Mary.”
Olivia smiled at the suggestion.
“Sounds great. I’d like that. Thanks.” She could use a break from hanging out next to the ruins. “I’ll take my car and meet you.”
“Okay. I’ll see you there.”
The two split off, but Olivia paused momentarily at her driver’s side door to glance back at the remains of the bungalow and then beyond to the view to the north. As her gaze returned to the island, her eyes landed on the refrigerator in the midst of the debris. She had never taken the time to clean it out. A perverse curiosity of what it looked like inside drew her to it. As she heard Sarah’s car head up the driveway, she backtracked toward what used to be the kitchen. Ducking under the yellow tape, climbing gingerly over the charred rubble, she reached out for the handle of the blackened refrigerator. Almost expecting it to still be hot, she touched it quickly to test the waters. It proved to be cool, so she grabbed the handle firmly with her whole hand and pulled. To her surprise the door swung open easily, and she peered inside for the first time. Not sure what she expected to see besides moldy food, Olivia surveyed the contents. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary until she opened the bottom drawers.
The vegetable drawer was not a surprise. Some withering carrots, a mushy mango, a couple brown bananas and a few onions starting to sprout. The meat drawer, however, proved to be much more interesting. Olivia hadn’t known her mother to be much of a meat eater. To find meat in the drawer would have been surprising. What she found, however, was even more unusual.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Olivia caught up to Sarah standing next to her car in Izzies parking lot, and they walked in together. For Olivia, it felt oddly strange. She almost expected Colton’s band to be setting up in the corner of the outdoor bar and grill. Instead, a man played island rhythms on shiny steel drums, accompanied by his partner on guitar. Usually Olivia enjoyed the sound of steel pan music. Not that day.
It all came flooding back. The brawl. Getting knocked down. Her throbbing cheek. Ice on her face on the ride back. She was perplexed as to why Sarah had suggested the place.
Since there were only a handful of patrons, they easily found a place at the bar, not too far from where they had sat a few nights earlier. The bartender was a handsome man with a medium-brown complexion, wearing a black Izzies logo t-shirt. His name tag said “Red” and hung cock-eyed below his left shoulder. He offered some friendly banter and was quick to take their order and return with their drinks. Sarah’s was a Bloody Mary and Olivia’s, a mimosa.
The two women sipped their cocktails with minimal conversing. As the steel pan duo took a break, the soothing sound of the ocean lapping against the beach behind them became the music. The feel of Izzies in the daytime was dramatically different than at night. It was as if the bar had two different personalities. Both inviting. One was calm and relaxing. The other seductive and alluring. A bit flirtatious. Olivia liked them both but, at the moment, she needed the calm she derived from listening to the sound of the ocean waves.
She glanced up to see a familiar face come into view at the end of the bar. A sinking feeling dropped into the bottom of her stomach as she squinted to discern who was sauntering toward her. There was no mistaking the tall, attractive man with a medium build and the pronounced angular features of his face.
Surveying the bar, his face lit up when he spied her. There was an arrogance about him as he crossed the floor toward her as if he needed to put on an air for anyone watching.
Olivia searched his face as he drew near. She furrowed her brow and clenched her teeth in response to his unexpect
ed arrival.
“What are you doing here?”
He chuckled.
She was not amused, holding her glare steady.
Seated between the two, Sarah turned back and forth to search both of their faces.
“I thought you might need my help.”
“Look, I’ve got it under control.” Olivia’s voice was firm, her lips pursed in anger. She couldn’t fathom trying to explain to her father what she had gotten wrapped up in.
“I’m sure you do, but I knew you would appreciate a hand and maybe wrap this up more quickly.” He patted her on the back of her shoulder with a chuckle as he turned to see who was sitting next to her.
Olivia jumped in to try to stay in control of the conversation. “Sarah, this is my father, James Benning.”
Sarah turned toward him and graciously extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“This is . . . Sarah.” There was no point getting into any more details. The fewer, the better.
Her father acknowledged her real estate agent briefly but made it obvious he was not interested in idle chitchat.
Sarah politely excused herself and sauntered confidently to a table at the other end of the bar with her drink in hand. Clearly she knew a number of ladies in a group that had just arrived, and they greeted her exuberantly.
Olivia longed to join them but turned to her father and took a moment to look him over. A handsome man in his forties, he had prominent cheek bones, and smooth, oddly pale skin. The breeze off the water tossed his light brown wavy hair about his head. A couple strands drooped uncharacteristically onto his forehead. He was relatively tall but not terribly wide and had a strong torso that was proportionate to the rest of his body.
His attire almost embarrassed her. He looked like he had walked out of his last business meeting and just took his suit jacket off and left it in the car. He had on a long-sleeved, white pinpoint shirt with narrow blue pinstripes and gray flannel trousers. The rolled-up sleeves were the only indication he was unwinding from his flight. She imagined he had boarded the first plane to the island at his last airport changeover. Glancing down, she smirked. He still had on his wingtip shoes. Sand had found its way into the crevices along the edges on his walk from the parking lot.
“How did you know I would be here?”
“I didn’t.” His voice was matter-of-fact.
Olivia examined his face more closely. “So why did you come?”
“Doesn’t everyone make Izzies their first stop after arriving on the island?” His voice was louder than she would have liked. He appeared far too happy with his hands raised above his head as if trying to lighten the mood.
She wasn’t going to bother to address his rhetorical question. It just didn’t make sense he would get off the plane and go straight for Izzies.
“That and the fact I know it’s too early for hotel rooms to be ready to check in. I came to hang out with a younger crowd while I waited. The bars in the larger hotels tend to be older couples. Not as much fun.” His wink made her squirm at the implication.
While Olivia acknowledged he was single, recently eligible, and good-looking, she shuddered at the prospect of him trying to pick up someone closer to her age than his own.
“Look, I can handle things here.” Her voice was even more assertive, trying to deliver a clear message to him.
“I just thought . . .” He stepped closer to her and rested a hand on the back of the bar stool Sarah had vacated.
Olivia could smell alcohol on his breath. Must have been a long flight. She wasn’t aware of where his travels had led him over the past few days, but she didn’t care either. She continued to push back.
“I don’t need your help!” The volume of her voice escalated. “Why do you think you can just show up here and take over?”
“Olivia.” He dropped his gaze to the ground as if silently assessing what he had walked into.
Furious he had arrived unannounced on the island, her mother’s island, anger seethed throughout her body.
“Why are you here?” she demanded. “You don’t care about any of this. You never have!”
His face grew solemn as he examined her eyes. Slowly he climbed onto what had been Sarah’s bar stool.
“Yeah, I do. . . . I always have.” His voice quieted.
Olivia’s eyes widened. Her eyebrows raised. Was he serious?
“What?” Her voice was raspy as if she was talking to herself, barely believing what she was hearing.
Red approached and asked her father what he wanted. He ordered a Glenmorangie Scotch Whiskey.
Olivia interjected, “You know, you are in the islands. Rum is the way to go here. A lot cheaper, too.” Of course, none of that mattered to him. He was going to get what he usually ordered. Such a creature of habit. Or just plain stubborn. Either way, same result.
Without hesitation, he changed his drink order to a double and then resumed their discussion.
“Olivia, I have always loved your mother.” He sounded indignant, speaking slowly and deliberately. “And I believe she loved me too. We just had different objectives. Her passion was being here, on the islands. She couldn’t . . . or wouldn’t go back. My life was in Boston. I had a career I had worked hard to be successful at. We took different paths. Unfortunately you got stuck in the middle, and I insisted you needed to get a good education so you stayed with me.”
Feeling a bit shell-shocked, Olivia could only stare at her father, listening to what spilled out of his mouth. His words sounded odd to her. Searching his face, she wondered if she should believe him. He had never stopped loving her mother? Should she have tried to get them back together? Why hadn’t she? A huge burden of guilt landed squarely on her narrow, young shoulders. Olivia suffered a nasty jab in her stomach as she realized there may never be another chance.
Her father’s eyes dropped to the floor as if reflecting on what could have been. Finally he found his voice.
“Look, I know this has been hard on you. . . . Probably, somewhat unfair, too.”
Grunting in response, Olivia stared into his eyes as her anger mounted. Was he kidding? Of course it was unfair to her. She didn’t have a say in any of it. Living in Boston with him was nothing less than miserable. She hated the fact he was never there, always traveling on business. When he was home, he was usually on the phone. He worked long hours and was busy in the evenings with meetings and dinners out. Olivia was incredibly lonely and longed to be with her mother on the beautiful island of St. Thomas where the weather and the soothing turquoise water were consistently temperate, year round. She hated him for keeping them apart.
“Your mother and I both made choices and . . .” He groaned as if a lifetime of guilt plagued him. “We also made some mistakes along the way. We’re human. Nowhere near perfect. I’m sorry if that hurt you in the process, but we certainly didn’t intend for that. We made the best decisions we could at the time.”
Red returned with her father’s drink. Olivia watched as he snatched it up eagerly.
Sipping her mimosa, she felt herself soften as she thought about her father baring his soul. The choices they made were difficult ones, although certainly misguided. She shook her head, still not agreeing with the decisions and wishing it could have been different. Her heart ached at the realization her parents cared for each other even though they chose to live apart. Who did that? Who did that to their daughter? Life for the three of them could have turned out differently. She struggled to quell her wrath.
The cruel reality of it all was nothing could be done to change her parents’ past. Regrettably her only option was to return to the present and the arduous task at hand. Yet, anger directed at both of her parents and bitter disappointment still churned inside.
She needed to distance herself from her father. He was not welcome in her island world. He was making her angry at her mother, and she resented his presence. The son-of-a-bitch had no business being there. He had a long history of showing up and taking over. Olivia knew this w
as not going to be an exception.
She flashed back to the time she and her friend, Laurie, launched a babysitting business when they were in junior high. Her father barged into the middle of it, insisting the parents of the kids under their care had to sign a contract and agree to certain terms and conditions. Their business fizzled before it ever got off the ground. Her father told her she would thank him one day when she understood the liability headache he had saved her from enduring.
If Olivia recalled correctly, he also destroyed her lemonade stand business the summer between third and fourth grade by charging her for the table and chair she used. At the time she didn’t understand what the term “rent” meant. He probably told her she was learning about the cost of running a business.
More recently, her father got too involved in a more personal matter. Weeks before the junior prom, she had garnered the courage to ask a guy she had been admiring from the next seat over in algebra class. Every time he leaned in her direction to double check a homework answer, butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Olivia was so elated he had said “yes” she made the mistake of sharing her excitement with her father. The young man had a sudden change of heart after receiving a phone call from James Benning outlining the restrictions and rules that would be in place that evening. Then, as it all played out, her father had an unexpected business trip that came up at the last minute and Olivia sat home alone the night of the prom while her friends took selfies and posted them on every social media outlet available. To say she was devastated would have been an understatement. She hated her father for it.
Olivia drained the rest of her mimosa and set the glass down on the bar. She pulled some cash out of her pocket and threw it down next to her glass.
“I’m out of here,” she announced.
Her father gave her a side glance but returned his attention to his drink.
She wasn’t interested in hanging around to see how the conversation was going to deteriorate after he had thrown down a few more. Walking away without looking back, Olivia left him with his drink to join Sarah where she still sat with the group of ladies. They spoke for a moment and Sarah nodded.
The Empty Chair ~ Murder in the Caribbean Page 21