The Empty Chair ~ Murder in the Caribbean Read online

  “James, have you seen Olivia? I haven’t seen her since her scare earlier.”

  “Her scare?” Puzzled, James looked at the officer.

  “Yeah, I’m sure she’ll tell you about it.” He didn’t want to get into it with her father. “Any idea where she is now?”

  “Not really. She left here earlier in a huff. I tried talking to her about leaving the island, and she wouldn’t even consider it.”

  Their eyes met as each acknowledged where she had gone. James grabbed his bag and the two men hurried out to find the detective’s car.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Beads of perspiration formed on Olivia’s forehead during the walk from the taxi stop. If her father refused to look for her mother, that was his burden to carry. She vowed to stay as long as it took.

  Olivia felt drawn to Serenity Villa. Perhaps it was the memories. Certainly the view was a big part of it. Perhaps it was the possibility of finding something. She felt closest to her mother when she was there. But the charred remains of the once brightly painted bungalow stood as a painful reminder of what had been taken.

  The chair. The empty chair still faced out toward the stunning view. Walking toward it, she studied the lines and curves, stopping halfway to stare. Confidently she resumed her gait and then reached out to place a hand on the top of it, running it down the slats on the back of the chair and across one arm. It was smooth and hard and heated by the sun. She squatted and leaned over to peak under the seat. Her eyes widened.

  Reaching underneath, she pulled out a small plastic storage container that had been secured to the underside with duct tape. Her heart skipped a beat. Peeling open the lid, her eyes bulged. Wads of money were rolled up and secured by rubber bands. She could see twenties, fifties, and hundreds on the outsides of the rolls. There was an envelope on top. Olivia’s name was scrawled on it in her mother’s handwriting. She gasped and then quickly picked it up. After gently setting the container on the ground, she slid slowly into the chair and opened the envelope. Pulling out a handwritten note, Olivia let out a long cleansing breath before unfolding the paper, almost afraid to see what it said.

  Olivia, my dear, sweet daughter, I love you very much. If you are reading this, something terrible must have happened and I’m sorry. I’ll admit, I may have been a bit foolish trying to track down the horrible people C.K. sent me to document. I may have overstepped boundaries and gone beyond what was expected of me but you know how I feel about anyone who abuses animals. It cannot be tolerated. These people are barbaric. They can’t be human. Horrible creatures. If I have lost my life in pursuit of trying to stop them and protect the animals from further abuse, I’m okay with that. I don’t know that you are at the moment but I think you will be with time. I know you. And I know what an incredible person you have become. You have a beautiful soul. And you are a very smart young lady with a good head on your shoulders. (How else would you have found this?! I knew you would!) Be strong. Stay strong. Follow your heart. As Thoreau said, “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you’ve imagined.” You go girl. Go after what you want out of life.

  I had hoped it would be you and me here on the island but apparently that wasn’t God’s plan. (Maybe it was his plan but then I got involved and sent everything awry. I have a tendency to do that!) Serenity Villa is yours. I hope you will be able to keep it. I know how much you love the place. The money in this box should help you maintain it. (The bad guys don’t need it anyway.) There’s no mortgage. Just some basic upkeep for a killer view!

  Olivia, my lovely child, I wish I could hug you one last time. Know that, wherever I am right now, I’m not far away. I will stay close to you and watch over you like I couldn’t do here on earth. You were always in my heart, though. I am so proud of you. I know your father is, too. And even though our relationship didn’t work out well, we both love you very much. The two of us were probably a bit too stubborn to give in to what was important to the other. You can pin that on both of us. Unfortunately you got stuck in the middle. I am truly sorry for that.

  So Olivia, keep an eye on your father for me, if you can, but follow your heart and go after your dreams. Don’t hang onto your sadness. Let it go. Find a way to be happy. I may be gone but I’ll always be in your heart.

  Love you always, Livvie,

  —Mom

  Olivia refolded the note and slid it back into the envelope. Her eyes were full and both of her cheeks glistened with tear tracks.

  So that was it. Her mother was really gone? She was not ready to accept it. She had simply found the box prematurely.

  Gravel and broken asphalt crunched under the tires of a vehicle descending the driveway. She turned in the chair to look but stayed seated, slipping the box back underneath and re-securing it. The dark four-door sedan stopped at the end of the driveway near the remains of the villa. Two men got out and she recognized them both.

  Her father spoke first as they crossed the grass over to her. “I knew we’d find you here.”

  Casting a blank stare, she chose not to engage him.

  The detective apparently felt the need to chime in, too. “Olivia, it’s not safe for you to be here or anywhere alone.”

  “I’m not leaving until I find her.” She turned away from them, back toward the view, remaining resolute.

  “Ollie, they found your mother.”

  Her head spun around to look at her father again, but she could tell by the tone of his voice and the look on his face it wasn’t good news he was delivering. Her face fell. Her whole body stiffened.

  James took a couple steps closer to her. “They had her all along.” He paused, seeming to let that sink in. “You saw her in the morgue.”

  “No!” Olivia refused to believe it. A dull pain radiated through her chest causing her to lean back in the chair.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  He reached over and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She pulled away from his touch.

  “You didn’t want to believe it was her. And she didn’t look anything like your beautiful mother when she was alive.” He paused again. “I saw her, too. It was agonizing. But they confirmed it was her with the DNA sample you gave them.”

  Olivia felt like someone had just kicked her in the gut. She was hearing her father’s words and they stung the very depths of her soul.

  “It can’t be . . .” Her voice trailed off. She was devastated.

  “Sorry, Ol. I’m sorry it turned out this way.” He stood silently to her side, his eyes lowered as if in prayer.

  Olivia sat motionless, holding her gaze out to the bay. Finally she swallowed hard and got to her feet. Turning toward her father, she fell into his embrace, sobbing like she had never done before. He wrapped his arms tightly around her thin, trembling frame. They were lost in the moment, lost in time.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  On the short drive to the airport in the Virgin Islands squad car, Detective Benson tried to fill in the blanks for Olivia.

  “Eyewitnesses spotted three suspicious looking men leaving the morgue and alerted hospital security. Probably the same animals that grabbed you from the lounge and locked you in the drawer. Hospital security detained them just long enough for my men to get there and follow two of them back to where they were holed up. Unfortunately the third went in a different direction and got away. It was the break we needed, though. Sorry it was at your expense, Olivia. Hopefully you’re not too worse for the wear from being in the morgue.”

  She snorted a short laugh and then turned toward the side window to watch the oncoming cars go by. “I’ll be in therapy for a while.” She was half serious. The scars of the trip were deep. Glancing toward her father in the front seat, she knew her pain was far from over. He turned toward her as if he could sense her eyes on him.

  “Did you know your mother took her maiden name back after we separated?” Sounding indignant her mother would do such a thing, he unknowingly diverted Olivia away from his dismal situation.

&n
bsp; She glared at him, furrowing her brow. It was the first she had heard of it but failed to see why he looked hurt. Did it matter? Especially now? They were divorced. Her mother had every right to take back her maiden name at any point. Olivia speculated if she ever got married and, heaven forbid, it ended in divorce, she would certainly take back her name. How much more arrogant could he be?

  “Apparently she didn’t waste any time after she got here. That explains why the police were running into dead ends in the beginning of the investigation. We had given them the wrong last name. Borgstrom is what they should have been looking for.”

  Olivia silently considered the revelation. It certainly made sense she would take her name back. Her mother was staunchly independent. And Olivia admired her for that. Obviously she kept Benning as her professional name since she had already built her career with it.

  There were still more questions.

  “So, Detective, what was my mother doing? How did she get mixed up with these horrible people?”

  “Your mother was freelancing as a photographer for the local paper. When this investigative story came her way, she took it to heart and was trying to get enough information to catch the criminals and enough evidence to convict them.”

  “So that’s what was on the CD.”

  “Yes, exactly. Your mother did a great job documenting their activity. Because of her we have been able to capture quite a few of the perps and put them behind bars, and they will stand trial for all of the horrible things they have done. And, for the record, they are not from the fair island of St. Thomas or any of the U.S. Virgin Islands, but, unfortunately, they’ve put a dark blemish on the territory. They are transients who dealt in untraceable cash, traveling by small boats and moving from island to island probably at night without going through the regular channels for entering the islands.”

  The box of cash under her mother’s chair came to mind.

  “They took advantage of the fact we have strays as many of the islands do. The good people of the humane society work hard to rescue the ones they can. They do a great job caring for the animals and placing them in permanent homes here and in the States. The thugs must have had someone here, though, a local who knows the island and knows his way around, has connections . . . someone to help them find places to hold the gambling events. We’re still working on that piece of the puzzle.”

  Olivia found it odd he called them “gambling events.” Perhaps he couldn’t bring himself to call them what they actually were.

  Watching the cars crossing the intersection in front of them, she found the back and forth movement hypnotizing. She was ready to get off the island and head back to Boston. A night out with Laurie would be a great diversion. There was nothing more for her to do on the island. Yet there were still gaps in her understanding of the tragic events that had transpired.

  “So who called us to let us know my mother had been in a boating accident?”

  “We traced the number your father gave us from caller ID on your home phone and discovered it belongs to an auto repair shop here on the island. Uh, David’s Garage. We talked to everyone who worked there, but no one had any idea what we were talking about, of course.”

  David? So that was the phone call he was referring to at Colton’s place. He took a huge risk returning her mother’s car to her, and he undoubtedly tried not to get any more involved than he had to. David was a good guy deep down, he had wanted to do what was right. But how did he know?

  “It’s a small island. Word gets around even if no one wants to talk to the police about it. I bet they tried to unload your mother’s car there to make a few bucks.”

  “And the night of the fire I saw an ambulance leaving the scene. Please tell me it wasn’t a firefighter who got hurt fighting the blaze.”

  The detective nodded his head. “Unfortunately, it was one of the first responders. Fortunately his injuries were not life threatening. He suffered burns over a portion of his body, but the doctors expect him to make a full recovery.”

  Olivia listened politely to Benson’s explanation but was anxious to continue with her questions.

  “What about the . . .” Olivia stopped to realize she had called in anonymously to report the leg sticking out from under the charred remains. “I heard something about a body being found under the rubble of my mother’s house.” Shuddering at the image in her mind, she closed her eyes. “What was that all about?”

  “That was the poor sap who started the blaze. He lit himself on fire.”

  Her eyes widened. “How do you know?”

  “People watch too many TV crime shows. He thought he could douse the place with an accelerant, leaving a trail leading up to it. When he lit the match to drop at the end of it, he ignited himself because he was surrounded by gas vapors. Poof! He got his. We’re running DNA tests to see if we can ID him.”

  Olivia wrinkled her nose and then pictured the other bodies in the morgue. The males. Disappointed she didn’t know Colton well enough to know his last name, she figured there was no point in asking. Feeling she knew the answer to her question, Olivia returned to her mother’s circumstances. “The medical examiner said her body had been in water for two to three days. That just doesn’t make sense. We got the call several days before I came down here.”

  The detective looked up into the mirror at her, a strained look on his face, appearing to contemplate the next words out of his mouth.

  Her mouth opened slightly and she gasped. “She was alive when I got here!” The realization hit her firmly in the gut.

  He hesitated. “It looks that way.”

  Recoiling from Benson’s bombshell, Olivia replayed the events since she arrived on the island, running through scenarios, trying to figure out if there was anything she should have done differently to have found her mother in time. It was impossible to know.

  As the light turned green, wailing sirens from behind them caused the detective to glance up into the rearview mirror and keep his car in its place. As the sirens got louder it became obvious there was more than one emergency vehicle approaching. Two police cars screeched to a stop on either side of the detective’s car and a third pulled up behind it, lights flashing, sirens silenced as if on command. Benson looked from one side to the other, as surprised as his passengers. A uniformed officer opened the detective’s door, motioning for him to get out. They exchanged words, animated in their gestures.

  Olivia was bewildered. What was happening? The two officers flailed their arms as they spoke to Benson. Then she had a sickening thought.

  The local connection for the animal abusers?

  She glanced to her father, who didn’t seem all that concerned. Olivia looked from one side of the car to the other and out the back window to see what was happening. Her father was on his phone as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

  Without warning, an officer opened the front passenger door and grabbed her father by the arm, pulling him out of the cruiser. In the scuffle that ensued, his cell was knocked loose and landed on the pavement.

  Olivia was horrified at the scene unfolding in front of her. “Dad!” She slid to the other side of the car to plead with the officers taking her father into custody. “What are you doing?” she shouted to them through the open door.

  They pulled his arms behind his back and slapped on handcuffs. He didn’t seem to be putting up much of a fight.

  Olivia grabbed the rear door handle and pulled but it wouldn’t budge. Since the car was designed for transporting criminals, she was trapped in the backseat and desperate to get to her father. They were making a mistake dragging him off and cuffing him.

  Olivia spied the small rectangular opening between the front and back seats, similar to the pass-thru in a yellow cab. It wasn’t huge but she believed she could get through it. She had to.

  Diving head first through the narrow slot, she shimmied the rest of her body through, scraping her legs on the way but barely noticing the pain. Her body tumbled into the front seat an
d she scrambled out the passenger door in time to see an officer guiding her father into the backseat of a squad car with the lights still flashing.

  Several people had gathered on both sides of the street to take in the spectacle, but rushing toward her father, Olivia ignored them. “Dad! What’s going on?” Turning to the nearest officer, she implored, “Why are you taking him?”

  “Ollie, it’s all a mistake. Don’t worry about me. You go ahead home.” Her father tried to reassure her.

  “But I can’t, I’ll stay with you.”

  “No, Ollie, listen to me. You need to get on the plane. . . . ” He seemed to be struggling, choking on his words. “You need to take your mother home. She’s probably already on the plane. You need to escort her home.”

  Olivia’s head drooped. She felt torn, not wanting to leave her father, yet her responsibility to her mother was undeniable.

  “Ollie, I’ll be all right. I’ll straighten out the misunderstanding and be home soon. You go. I love you.”

  Olivia reached through the open door and grabbed onto his shoulder, looking into his eyes, searching for strength.

  An officer stepped between her and her father. Pulling her arm out of the squad car, he slammed the door shut. Reluctantly she stepped back, hands in the air. “Okay.”

  Turning toward the detective’s car, Olivia looked to him for an explanation. There he stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head, with a pained expression on his face that told her the situation had taken a turn he hadn’t seen coming. Reluctantly, she climbed back into his car, this time in the front seat, and they continued the trip to Cyril E. King, her heart aching and her shoulders sagging.

  Detective Benson pulled up to the sidewalk in front of the tiny bustling airport, barely squeezing in between two other cars. Taxis were double parked, dropping off riders and their luggage.

  Even with her father’s belongings, Olivia was traveling lightly. No longer in possession of the tattered rollaway she arrived with, she had packed her few remaining pieces of clothing into her father’s bag.