CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Figuring he had allowed enough time for Olivia to recover from his unannounced arrival on the island, James Benning pulled his small white rental car out onto Route 30 heading west toward Charlotte Amalie. It was time to catch up with her and get the situation under control. Enough was enough. With much more important matters to worry about, he resented having to take time out of his hectic schedule to be in the steamy tropics, particularly in August. It was one of the most undesirable places to be. He’d rather spend time skiing in Colorado than sitting on a beach in the Caribbean.
After wiping perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand, he reached for the air-conditioning controls. Both the fan and temperature were already at their highest settings. He groaned. Arriving unannounced at the car rental booth, he’d had few choices.
Nearing downtown, James’ progress slowed as he encountered traffic congestion. The number of cars on the road, especially taxis, was in direct proportion to the number of cruise ships in town. On this day, two large ships towered over the dock at Havensight. A third was docked at Crown Bay.
James inched through the section of road near the docks and into downtown until finally he was able to turn right at the police station and make his way up the mountain toward Serenity Villa, slowing at the sharp curves and swearing at the oncoming cars. Driving on the left side of the curving mountainous roads was not enjoyable for him. Far from it. He did not embrace the challenge.
Near the top of the mountain his four-cylinder rental struggled to make the climb, coughing and sputtering, threatening to stall. James smacked the steering wheel and yelled at it as if it would respond to his sense of urgency.
“Foreign shit box!” he shrieked as his face turned red and the veins on the side of his neck protruded grotesquely.
Hitting the brakes, he gave it a moment to collect itself, and considered pulling off the road. But there was no room for error much less a breakdown lane along the edge. In one last ditch effort, he floored the gas pedal again. The little white sedan chugged the rest of the way to the top, knocking and pinging as if it were on its last cylinder.
Relieved the car had not stalled, James rounded the bend with his eyes darting in all directions, not knowing where to look for oncoming cars.
Before long he was heading down Crown Mountain Road, and he slowed to look for the right driveway. It had been a long while since he’d been there. He was hoping he would recognize it. Perhaps he would be able to see Liv’s Jeep that undoubtedly Ollie would be using to get around the island. Of course, the car would need to be sold, too.
As a familiar beat-up rusty white mailbox came into view, he slowed the rental to a crawl. Turning into the drive and heading down the curving path, he glanced down the hill, looking for the colorful cottage with the Jeep parked in front. His glimpses through the trees didn’t catch anything familiar. He had the sinking feeling he had chosen the wrong driveway, but he would have to get to the bottom to turn around anyway so he continued. An odd structure slowly emerged from the camouflage of trees as he got closer.
Ignoring an uncomfortable spasm in his gut, he brought the vehicle to a stop in front of black, charred ruins cordoned off by yellow tape. No Jeep. It couldn’t be. He had the wrong driveway, but was still curious, like a rubbernecker at an accident scene. After shoving the car into park and cutting the engine, he slowly excited the vehicle, leaving the driver’s door ajar.
Taking a couple small steps toward the police tape, he scanned the scene, trying to make sense of it. His eyes came to rest on the east side of the house that was still standing and his face fell, recognizing the colorful wall and part of the gallery that were relatively untouched. It was Serenity Villa. Struggling to comprehend what he was seeing, his mouth moved almost imperceptibly but no words came out.
Finally he found his voice, quiet at first. “Oh my God, Liv. What the hell happened?” he implored, certain she was to blame.
“Damn it!” He turned and lunged toward the car, slamming his palm on the hood so hard, he left a small dent. “Damn it!”
Quickly sliding his phone out of his pants pocket, he pressed a couple buttons and could hear it ringing in his ear, but she wasn’t answering. After four rings rolled over to her voicemail, he hung up and smacked the hood again. Turning and glaring at the charred debris, he clenched his teeth in anger. His daughter had made herself scarce, undoubtedly fearful of his wrath, acknowledging he had let his temper get the best of him on occasion, particularly when a situation turned abruptly out of his control. This would certainly fit into that category.
James looked around the property, and his eyes came to rest on the chair in the side yard. An empty chair. Mindlessly he wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, cursing the oppressive heat and then started across the yard. After only a few steps, his foot kicked something hard. He stopped to examine a rectangular piece of wood. Soiled with ashes from the fire, it didn’t look like much of anything to him, but he flipped it over.
Serenity Villa
There was surprisingly little damage on it. He re-clenched his teeth and scowled. Taking the stance of a baseball pitcher, he hurled the sign, aiming it deep into the center of the burned timbers, condemning it to a burial amid the ashes, essentially erasing the last piece of evidence of the bungalow’s existence.
He continued his walk over to the chair and sat on the edge of the seat. Looking out to the bay, he had to admit there was a certain appeal to the view from that chair. The sunlight shimmering on the calm waters of Magens Bay was almost inviting.
His gaze wandered out to the horizon. He didn’t notice the Bananaquits chirping in the trees behind him as he was preoccupied with determining his next move. A prudent man would probably go directly to the police. However, a man whose past had crossed paths a few times with the police, albeit when he was much younger, knew he should go a different route. His temper tended to rise up at the worst of times and get him into trouble, particularly with authority figures.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The sound of a vehicle coming down the driveway caught his ear. Assuming it was Olivia, he turned toward the sound but didn’t recognize the car. His face fell in disappointment. Getting up from the wooden chair, he took a couple steps toward the driveway, squinting to determine who was arriving.
It was a large vehicle. Black, maybe navy blue, SUV. Looked like some sort of government car. Arching his back, his guard went up as the driver pulled the car next to his and cut the engine.
The door opened and a young man in a white uniform stepped out. Looked like Coast Guard. James was impressed with how white and neatly pressed his uniform was, an impeccable presentation from his hat down to his highly polished shoes. He certainly looked like the real thing.
As the guardsman approached, he removed his hat and tucked it under one arm. He came to a stop a few feet from James, removed his aviator sunglasses, folded them, and slipped them into the pocket on the front of his shirt.
The two men stood there with their eyes locked. Neither spoke at first, as if trying to discern why the other was there.
Finally the Coast Guard officer spoke. “Afternoon, sir. I’m Lieutenant Woods.” He extended his hand.
Olivia’s father extended his in return. “Afternoon, Lieutenant. James Benning.”
After the introductions were completed, they looked at each other as if expecting the other to say something significant.
Woods found his voice first. “I was hoping to find Miss Benning here. Olivia Benning.”
“Yeah, that’s my daughter.” He narrowed his eyes and examined the lieutenant closely as if trying to understand his motive.
“I see. She’s not answering her phone. I had no idea where else I might find her.”
James laughed a short, cynical snicker and nodded his head. “Yeah, I tried, too.” Then he grew serious. “What’s this all about?”
The lieutenant mirrored his sobriety. “I can’t really say. This is a p
rivate matter.” He straightened his back and stood taller.
James closed his eyes and exhaled, flaring his nostrils and clenching teeth into a forced grin. “I’m her father. I think you can share with me what you were going to share with her.” His voice got louder with each word.
The man in white didn’t appear swayed by his confrontational style. He just looked calmly at him for a moment.
His non-response infuriated James. “For God’s sake, tell me what the hell is going on!”
The guardsman cleared his throat and looked directly into James’ eyes. “I’m sorry . . . but I can’t. This is between Miss Benning and The United States Coast Guard.”
His statement hung in midair, agitating James further.
“What are you talking about? I’m her father! I think you should be able to talk with me about what is going on with her mother.”
“I’m sorry, sir. Miss Benning is over eighteen. Whatever agreement she has with us is entirely confidential. I’ve probably said too much as it is.”
“That’s ridiculous!” His frustration was escalating.
The lieutenant couldn’t let it go at that. “And aren’t you and your wife divorced?”
Olivia’s father’s nostrils flared again. “What’s that got to do with anything—” His right hand lunged and grabbed the neatly pressed white shirt with a sweaty fist.
Taken by surprise, the lieutenant took a step back. James’ fingers slipped from the wad of fabric he had grabbed. He took one look at Woods’ flaring eyes and thought better of going after him again.
Visibly anxious to diffuse the confrontation and make his exit, Woods pulled a business card out of his shirt pocket and offered it to James. “If you hear from Miss Benning, please let her know I have some information for her . . . that she would definitely be interested in.”
James glared in response and finally reached out and snatched the card out of his hand.
“Okay. Thank you. I hope to hear from her soon.” Woods turned and walked back toward his government-issue vehicle with a determined stride. He scrambled quickly inside as if he was expecting someone to pursue him, turned the car around, and drove back up the winding driveway.
Olivia’s father tossed the business card aside and then saluted the exiting vehicle but not out of deference to the uniform.
He sauntered back to the empty chair, faltered for a moment and grabbed the back of it until he recovered his balance, and then sat back down on the edge. His thoughts turned to a recent visit to his doctor stateside. A cloud passed in front of the sun, obliterating the bright, optimistic light.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
James Benning was furious. His ex-wife’s bungalow that he had planned to put on the market had been reduced to a heap of charcoal, and he was sure she didn’t have any insurance on the property. His daughter was nowhere to be found. Where was she staying? His wife . . . ex-wife . . . had passed away in a boating accident. But there was no body. How did anyone know it was a boating accident? Who knew the circumstances to be able to make that kind of conclusion? Many unanswered questions.
He had to check into a hotel somewhere. That would be a good place to start. It would need to be down near the waterfront to avoid having to traverse the treacherous mountain. Air-conditioning was a prerequisite. It didn’t have to have a view or be on the water. It would all be lost on him. However, since he expected and needed a certain level of service, he chose to head over to The Reef in Bakkero Estate to see if there was a room available. He didn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t be comfortable if he was going to have to endure a few days in the sweltering heat while he straightened out the situation Olivia was unable to take care of. Deeply disappointed, he despised incompetence. He had taught her better than that. . . . Well, even if he hadn’t taught her directly, he certainly showed her by example. She should have been paying attention.
James stood up from the chair that looked out over the bay and instantly became lightheaded. He grabbed onto the edge until his dizzy spell passed. Slowly he made his way back over to his car, staggering with each step. One hand grabbed the door handle and held it for a moment while the other gripped the edge of the roof. Gathering himself, he shook his head. His situation was worsening.
Once he gained his composure, he took one last look around in disgust and climbed into his disappointing island rental, tossing his phone on the seat next to him. After rolling down the windows and grumbling while turning the car around in the tight driveway, he set his sights on finding a hotel downtown.
On the way back down the mountain, his cell rattled to life with a loud, clangorous ring that sounded like an old-fashioned telephone. Trying to focus on the sharp curves and oncoming cars, he stole a glance and recognized the number. He knew he needed to pick it up, yet he let it ring a few times more before he finally pushed the button for speakerphone.
“Yeah. What’s up?”
“James, it’s Dr. Vincent.”
No shit. Just the person he didn’t want to hear from.
“Yeah, Doc. What’s going on?” It was difficult to hear over the breeze through the open windows and the noise from passing cars. He pressed the buttons to close the windows and poked at the air-conditioning controls, desperate to get some cooler air moving, even though they were already cranked up to the highest settings.
Part of him didn’t want to know why the doctor was calling.
“James, I got the lab results back. Listen, could we sit down and talk about this face-to-face? I would like to go over them in person. Are you in town? Could you stop into my office? I’m really swamped but I will certainly make time for you.”
He exhaled a long, extended breath. His doctor probably had the results spread out on the desk in front of him.
“Listen, Doc, I’m out of town at the moment. Not sure exactly when I’ll be back. Why don’t you just give it to me straight?”
Silence on the other end of the phone.
“James, I . . . uh . . . I would like to speak with you in person. Face-to-face.”
“Of course you would. That’s the way you do things.” He chuckled out loud. “But I have no idea when I’ll be back in the States. This could take a while. Just give it to me straight. I have to hear it at some point. I’d rather it came from you. We’ve known each other for years. Tell me what you know.”
More silence on the other end.
“James, really. I think we should meet to discuss this.”
“Look, I appreciate your attempt to sugarcoat this, but I am two plane rides away from you in the godforsaken sweltering heat of the Caribbean. Believe me, I do not want to be here. This is not a vacation, and I don’t know how long it will take. Just level with me. I need to know. I’ll handle it. I know I’ve done it to myself.”
More silence.
“Mike! Just tell me!” He was halfway down the mountain but becoming more and more agitated by the call, desperate to know.
“All right, if you insist. Are you sitting down? Are you some place safe?”
“For God’s sake, you are killing me! Spit it out already.”
The doctor condensed the lab results in a couple of concise sentences. Silence on the other end of the line indicated he was waiting for his long-time patient and friend to respond.
James listened with no expression on his face. He blinked a couple times trying to take it all in. His eyes glazed over and he didn’t make the next curve.
Screeching tires, shattering glass, and the unmistakable sound of metal against metal were the last sounds before he lost consciousness.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Olivia was startled awake by a strange sound in unfamiliar surroundings. She tried to make out shapes in the shadows of the room. As her grogginess cleared, she realized it was her cell and she was at Sarah’s house. Since it was still dark outside, she surmised it was the middle of the night. Fumbling hands finally located the phone on the bedside table next to her “meat drawer find” from her mother’s refrigerator. A
t first glance she didn’t recognize the number, but the Virgin Islands area code compelled her to answer it. A nagging feeling reminded her calls in the middle of the night were never good news. She blinked a couple times and then pushed the talk button.
“Hello?” she whispered hesitantly.
“Miss Benning?”
“Yes?” Her voice croaked as she tried to shake off her sleepiness.
“This is Detective Benson of the Virgin Islands Police Department.” He let that sink in for a moment. “We’ve met a couple of—”
“Yes, Detective, of course. I remember you. Why—” She rubbed her eyes in an attempt to wipe away the slumber she had been completely immersed in. “What’s going on? Why are you calling?” She stifled a yawn in his ear.
“Miss Benning, your father has been in a serious automobile accident.”
Her eyes flew open wide. She tried to make sense of what the detective was saying. “An accident? How? . . . How could this be? He just got here yesterday. Oh no. . . .” Olivia struggled to take it all in. She reached over and turned on the light on the small table next to the bed. Her eyes flinched at the sudden brightness. “What happened? When?”
“We’re not exactly sure when it happened. Probably sometime yesterday afternoon. There were no eyewitnesses. He, uh . . . he went over the edge coming down Crown Mountain.”
“Oh God.” She listened to his words, trying to comprehend their meaning.
“I’m sorry, Miss Benning, but you need to come to the hospital.”
“Of course.” Her voice was tentative and hoarse. “Okay.”
“Take your time. I’ll meet you at the front door.”
“The front door,” she repeated.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll see you when you get here. No rush.”
“All right. I will . . . I’ll get there as soon as I can.” She was trying to grasp his instructions. “Thank you . . . thank you for . . . for calling. I will be there.” She pressed the button to end the call and stared off in the distance out the window. No sign of the sun yet.
The Empty Chair ~ Murder in the Caribbean Page 23