The Empty Chair ~ Murder in the Caribbean Page 22

  Rummaging through her purse resting on the floor by her chair, Sarah pulled out a wad of keys that barely fit inside her fist and handed them off. Olivia slipped them into her pocket and then turned and strode back toward the exit.

  Walking past her father, who had become wrapped up in a conversation on his cell while hovering over his double Scotch, Olivia headed out to the parking lot. This time there were no footsteps behind her. No one called out her name. She walked alone.

  “Good luck finding a place to stay,” she mumbled, predicting the more upscale hotels would be completely booked. Chortling to herself, she pictured his face as he came upon the tragic remains that no longer could be called Serenity Villa. Of course, he never called it that. He never saw anything about it that exuded serenity. To him, it was just an “oddly painted house on a God-awful, hot island.” He was a New Englander through and through. Not only did he not mind the long cold winters, it was as if he thrived on the challenge of them. He was like many of the particularly sturdy Yankees who laughed in the face of winter storms. Olivia could take them or leave them but given the choice, she would choose to be right where she was. There was something about the Caribbean that spoke to her. The mild year-round weather, the hospitality of the people, stunning sunsets, cooling sea breezes, turquoise waters, snorkeling with sea turtles, and views that went on forever from any vantage point on the island. It was a slower, simpler way of life. Not that people didn’t work hard, but it wasn’t the frenetic, fast-paced kind of work like it was back in the States, particularly in New England. Yankees set the standard for the term “rat race.”

  As Olivia approached her car, her phone vibrated against her leg. She slipped it out of her pants pocket and noticed the first three digits were 340. She pressed the talk button and answered the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Miss Benning?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Lieutenant Woods.”

  She held her breath, terrified to hear the next few words out of his mouth.

  “Yes?” Her voice quivered.

  “Ma’am, I need you to come down to the Coast Guard station again. . . . There’s another body.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Olivia’s heart sank. Indiscernible words tumbled almost imperceptibly across her lips.

  “Ma’am?”

  Grappling to make sense of what he was saying, she cleared her throat.

  “Okay. I’ll . . . I’ll be right there.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

  “Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Could I just meet you at the hospital?”

  “Yes, that would be fine. I’ll meet you at the side entrance where we went in last time.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you there. I’m about fifteen minutes away.”

  “That’s fine. Take your time.”

  Olivia slipped her phone back into her pocket and slumped with her back against the driver’s side door. Could it be her mother this time? She prayed it wasn’t. Her plan was to find her alive. “Please . . . no.”

  Leaving behind her father and his glass of Scotch at the bar, she steered the car back toward Charlotte Amalie. Back to the scene where she had escaped custody. She arrived at the pink four-story building and pulled her car around to the side. The lieutenant’s vehicle was parked in a slot directly in front of the side entrance and he waited patiently near the door, standing erect in his bright white uniform, hands on his hips, gold aviator glasses sitting prominently on his tanned face.

  Olivia pulled into the slot next to his vehicle and shut down the engine. She heaved a heavy exhale full of the burden she carried and closed her eyes. She dreaded what he was asking her to do. It was all becoming decidedly overwhelming. When she opened her eyes he was approaching the car, wasting no time in tackling the task at hand.

  “For God’s sake, give me a minute,” she snapped as she reached for the door handle. He was certainly in more of a hurry than she was.

  “Miss Benning. Thank you for coming. I know this is hard for you. Believe me, I do.”

  She barely had her door open, but he was already rambling on much further than was necessary, not that rambling was ever necessary.

  Holding up her hand as if stopping a line of traffic, she trudged toward him. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with.” She sounded more nonchalant than she felt.

  Following the lieutenant to the small, nondescript, windowless side door, she waited while he unlocked it. Side-by-side they made their way down the all-too-familiar hall, arriving at the same unmarked door as before. Woods rapped gently on it and soon the same dark-skinned linebacker dressed in green scrubs let them inside the cold smelly room with metal drawers on the far wall.

  Olivia shivered as she recalled her previous visit. This was the last place she wanted to be on the island. Dozens of beautiful white sandy beaches dotted the perimeter, all with sparkling turquoise water. She would have given anything to be on any one of them instead of inside the local morgue.

  The medical examiner must have assumed she was now completely indoctrinated into the world of autopsy because he didn’t hesitate before opening the drawer to show her the most recent arrival in his examining room. It was the drawer to the left of the one he had pulled out during her last visit.

  She took a step back as the sheet-covered body came into view.

  The lieutenant took the lead this time. “Miss Benning, this body is actually a male. But we were hoping you might know him and be able to shed some light as to who he is.”

  Although comforted by the revelation, she shot him a glare for not sharing the corpse’s gender earlier as he found a spot on the far wall to lean against. What a huge relief, though. It wasn’t her mother. She took comfort in the fact she was still out there somewhere.

  “Okay, I see.” Of course, she didn’t believe she could be of any assistance, but she was already there. She would take a look.

  The ME pulled back the sheet for her to see. The fabric fell away to reveal not only his head, but a good portion of the torso.

  Olivia’s heart stopped when she saw the broad shoulders on the white male. Her legs seized up and her feet felt like they were stuck in cement blocks. Her body refused to step any closer. She squinted her eyes.

  The cadaver had stringy, shoulder-length dark blond hair plastered to his head and neck. His skin, however, looked nothing like the chalky white skin of the female Jane Doe she had seen before. Instead it was healthy-looking, smooth and tan. He looked like he would open his eyes at any moment and wonder why they were all staring at him.

  Olivia stared at the corpse, standing so still every muscle in her body stiffened.

  “Doctor, can you tell how long he’s been in the water?” She wanted to hear it had been a while.

  The coroner looked surprised at her question. “We don’t know exactly but in relation to the female you saw, this one spent much less time submerged . . . if at all. We still need to get clarification as to where this body was found.”

  “I see.” Since his answer didn’t give her much to go on, she needed to ask the question a different way. “Do you know how long he’s been dead?”

  “No, not yet. I haven’t performed the autopsy yet.”

  Olivia finally got her feet to move and slowly inched closer to the body. The silence that hung in the room was almost distracting.

  The two men looked to her to reveal who it was. Their expectations were palpable.

  Olivia stared at his face, longing to see what the eyes looked like behind the closed lids, what his hair looked like when it was clean after a shower. Another question reached her lips. “Would it be possible to see his feet . . . his left foot?”

  The ME and the lieutenant both raised their eyebrows and looked at each other. The ME spoke first.

  “Ma’am, ordinarily it wouldn’t be an issue, but there are no toes on his left foot.”

  Her eyes grew wide. She looked to him fo
r clarification.

  “Apparently they were . . . removed.”

  “Removed?” She was struggling to understand.

  “Yes, cut off.” He looked uncomfortable. “In some sort of an accident or by . . . someone. It’s not a pleasant sight.”

  Like the rest of the body was? Olivia shuddered and closed her eyes, trying to push the picture of the corpse’s toeless foot out of her mind’s eye.

  So she would never know. That was the only identifying feature she knew of on his body. She hadn’t gotten to know him well enough. The air in the small morgue became noticeably stuffier.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know who this is. I don’t recognize him.”

  “You sure?” The ME urged her to think harder, “You don’t have any thoughts?”

  She had asked too many questions, sounded too interested. They could tell she had at least an inkling about who he might be. But she wasn’t going to cave in.

  “Not really.” She held her voice steady.

  “’Cause we have a second corpse that came in at the same time as this one. A black male. I can’t show you that one because his face was messed up. There’s not much to recognize. We’ll have to try to use DNA, but I was hoping if we could identify the white male then that might help us ID the second one . . . if there is a connection between the two.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t help.” She had already detached herself, ready to walk out the door.

  The ME held his gaze for a moment, as if expecting her to reconsider. After an awkward silence, he shook his head with disappointment clearly written across his face and replaced the sheet on the corpse’s head. He put all his weight behind the end of the drawer and shoved it back into the wall as Olivia wondered, was it him? A painful twinge in her stomach made her grimace.

  The lieutenant shifted his stance and re-engaged. “Thank you once again, Miss Benning. We appreciate you taking a look.” He sounded as if he uttered those words several times a day and said them without thinking about them or feeling their meaning. Retreating back out through the morgue toward the door, he stepped to the side to let Olivia go ahead of him.

  The two marched side by side back down the dimly lit hall and out the side door into the bright sunshine. As soon as the door clicked shut, the lieutenant moved uncomfortably close to her, his face in hers.

  “Look, Miss Benning, we’re not playing here. If you know something or have an idea whose body that is, you need to speak up. Now.” He kept his voice low but firm. He reached out with one hand as if he was going to grab her upper arm but seemed to think better of it and pulled back. His face was still inches from hers. His warm breath brushed her skin and it smelled sour.

  “What are you holding back?” His voice grew louder.

  “Nothing!” she cried, taking a step back. His confrontation scared her, so she looked around the parking lot and beyond, praying she wasn’t alone with him.

  The lieutenant held his gaze then stepped away from her. Snatching his aviator sunglasses out of his shirt pocket, he slipped them on and then abruptly turned on his heel and stomped off to his vehicle. He quickly climbed in and slammed the door shut. After starting the engine, he pulled out of the parking slot and squealed his tires as he exited the lot.

  Olivia stood in his wake, reeling from their encounter. Was there anyone left on the island she knew . . . who was on her side?

  Returning to her Jeep, she tried Colton’s cell again, hoping beyond hope he would pick up. Disappointed he didn’t answer, she took a moment, instead, to check in with her friend, Laurie.

  Olivia listened as the phone on the other end rang several times. Finally she heard a click and her friend’s sweet voice. Just the sound of it perked up her spirits.

  “Hey, girlfriend! How’s it going down there?”

  “Not bad. Things are progressing.”

  “Are they? That’s good.”

  “Yeah, it is. I—”

  “Anything I can help you with? Because you know I would do anything for you.”

  Olivia beamed. Her dear friend meant the world to her. Always positive and encouraging. They had gotten each other through their share of bumps in the road. She could count on Laurie. She was sure Laurie felt the same about her.

  “Yes, of course I do. And I appreciate it. Thanks.”

  “Anything at all. You just name it.”

  “Awesome. Thank you. As a matter of fact, I was just wondering if you would take another look at the mail.”

  “Sure! Absolutely. I’ll be going over later today. Is that soon enough?”

  “Oh yeah, that should be fine.”

  “I’ll give you a call when I get there, but is there anything in particular I am looking for?”

  “Yes, actually. That package you called about a couple days ago. The one addressed to my father?”

  “Yes, I know the one you mean.”

  “Okay, good. I’d like you to open it.”

  “Open it?”

  “Yes, open it. I know I said you shouldn’t, but I’ve changed my mind. It might be important.”

  Silence hung on the other end, suggesting Olivia might have to persuade her. Had she had second thoughts since her initial offer?

  “Livvie?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was just at your place this morning and it wasn’t on the counter where I had left it.”

  Olivia’s eyes grew wide.

  “I had left it on top of the stack of mail, but this morning it was gone. I assumed your father returned home last night and picked it up. Was he supposed to fly in yesterday?”

  Olivia carefully considered her response, not wanting to reveal her surprise and concern over the missing package.

  “He must have. I don’t know the specifics of his schedule, but that must be what happened.”

  “So you don’t need me to stop in and feed Chloe anymore?”

  “Yeah, I think you still should. That is, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course I don’t mind. I usually just go on my way to work.”

  “It would be great if you could. My father’s schedule is so erratic, and I don’t think he would even think about taking care of Chloe if he was there.”

  Olivia thanked her profusely and assured her she would be wrapping up soon and heading home. They would head out on the town when she did.

  Her friend was pleased to make tentative plans, and Olivia hung up looking forward to their night out.

  Olivia fired up the engine of the Jeep and exited the hospital parking lot heading to the east end of the island.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  James’ eyes concentrated on the ice in the bottom of his glass as if he were inspecting a rare archeological specimen. He was elsewhere, lost in time and location. Glancing at his phone, he couldn’t understand why his buddy hadn’t replied to the text he sent after he landed. James had specifically suggested Izzies knowing his friend was fond of the place and undoubtedly would be willing to meet him there. He figured after a few drinks his friend might have some insight on tracking down Liv, so he could get off the godforsaken island that felt like a blast furnace. Sweat trickled down his back inside his shirt. Rolling his sleeves farther up his arms and tugging at his shirt to unstick it from his torso, he was unable to fathom how anyone could live in the tropics year round.

  Exuberant laughter from the table of women rattled him out of his disparaging thoughts of the island. He jiggled the glass causing the cubes to clatter and clink inside, deliberately intending to hail the bartender.

  Delivering piña coladas to a couple of twenty-somethings at the other end of the bar, the sound of the empty glass caught Red’s attention. His head turned and he quickly made his way over, scooping up the glass with long, slender, dark-skinned fingers.

  “Yes, sir. What can I get for you? Another Scotch? A double?” His island accent was thick and rhythmic. One crooked finger pointed lazily at his patron as he backed up toward the wall of hard liquor behind him, anticipating his response.


  James nodded his head once, giving his consent to the bartender. As he turned to survey the patrons at the other end of the bar, he asked himself if he was drinking to forget or to get numb. It didn’t really matter, but he decided it was a little of both. Desperate to forget what might have been with his beautiful first love, Liv, and anxious to let go of the pain of losing her forever. He counted on the Scotch to help him forget, get numb, and move on.

  Red went straight to work emptying his glass, refilling the ice, and pouring two more shots. Before he could return with it, however, James hopped off his seat and sauntered down the bar toward the two ladies with the piña coladas. He caught Red’s eye and tilted his head toward his target to say he would take his drink down there.

  “Hello, ladies.” His voice was silky smooth and the girls were taken aback by his unexpected arrival. He slid onto the empty stool next to the brunette with a strapless white top, light-blue-and-white-striped cropped linen pants. Her friend had wispy blonde hair and was dressed in a black halter top and a short white skirt. They giggled in response.

  Red delivered his drink to the new location without raising an eyebrow and quickly retreated to attend to the ever-present task of washing out dirty glasses accumulated in the sink. Turning his back on the bar, he became immersed in the sound of running water and clinking glasses.

  James carried on idle chitchat with the young women for a few minutes until a couple of young men, closer to their age, entered and sat down on the far side of them. The bartender approached the two quickly as if he knew them and spoke directly to the man with his arm in a sling. They all laughed and engaged in banter back and forth as the injured man glossed over the details of his injury.

  After the girls made it clear they were more interested in the new arrivals than him, James turned away, trying to sit more erect and look confident. He scanned the tables, surveying the rest of the patrons with lonely eyes. Silently he slipped off the barstool and made his way toward the exit after dropping a couple twenties on the bar for Red.