by L. T. Vargus
“Did he ever hit on you?” Darger asked.
Suzanne’s disgust deepened.
“He asked me if I’d ever done any modeling.”
“What’s going on here?” a male voice broke in.
Hugo slid around behind Suzanne and put a hand on her shoulder. He narrowed his eyes at Owen.
“You again? Man… she’s been crying all morning, you know that? She finally stopped and now you gotta come in here and stir it all up again.”
“We just want to ask you a few questions, OK?” Darger said.
“Yeah well, we’re working. Let’s go.” He gave Suzanne’s arm a tug and glared at Darger. “We have actual paying customers, and I could use your help behind the counter.”
Suzanne allowed Hugo to drag her away.
“Come on,” Darger said, and she and Owen got in line behind an older couple in matching Hawaiian shirts.
The woman smelled like banana-scented tanning lotion. Or was that one of the drinks Suzanne was whipping up in one of the blenders behind the counter? Darger couldn’t tell.
The couple collected their drinks, leaving the spot in front of the counter open for Darger and Owen. They stepped forward, and Hugo scowled.
“Do I need to call my manager? You can’t harass us like this.”
“How about this?” Darger said, pulling money from her wallet. “I’ll order the Pineapple Paradise, and when my drink is ready, we’ll be done.”
Darger held out a bill, and the girl took it and rang her up.
Hugo folded his arms over his chest.
“I don’t know what you even want from us, man. We don’t know anything.”
“What about Christiaan?”
“What about him?”
“I heard he hasn’t been seen since Micaela disappeared,” Darger said.
“Yeah well, he didn’t have anything to do with what happened to her, so I don’t see why that matters.”
“You’re not worried about him?”
“Why would I be worried? Christiaan’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”
“Two people go missing, the same night,” Darger said. “One is found in a shallow grave. Do the math. It seems to me that everyone would be very interested in making certain that Christiaan is safe and alive at this point.”
Hugo’s jaw went hard, and he looked away.
Suzanne emptied the contents of one of the eight blenders behind the counter into a plastic cup.
“Look, I’m sorry about what happened to Micaela. But she was trouble.” Hugo shrugged. “All mainlanders are. They come here, and they think they can be someone else for a few days, weeks, whatever. Play games and then go home when vacation is over. I told Christiaan not to get involved with her, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Darger tilted her head to one side.
“Could you be more specific about Micaela being trouble? Did something happen between her and Christiaan?”
Suzanne poked a straw into the creamy yellow concoction in the cup and handed it over to Darger.
Hugo seemed to relax now that their time was up. He leaned against the counter.
“A deal’s a deal. You got your drink. Time for you to go.”
He moved to help the next person in line, and Darger and Owen had no choice but to step aside.
She took a sip of her drink. Pineapple and coconut. It was sweet and tart and creamy. But the best part was that it was cold. The cup was wrapped with a paper napkin, but even so, Darger could feel the coolness of the icy beverage against her skin. She pulled the napkin away to get full contact.
“That was smooth,” Owen said. “That thing about Christiaan being missing, so why is no one worried? He knows where Christiaan is, huh?”
“Oh yeah.” Darger took a few guilders in change and dropped them in the tip jar, making sure to make eye contact with Suzanne as she did. The girl looked away. “Let’s go back to the car.”
“We’re leaving? You said he knows something. We should hang around so we can tail him.”
Darger handed Owen the napkin from her drink, flipping it over so he could see the address Suzanne had scrawled in black marker on the back.
“Because we don’t need him after all.”
CHAPTER 14
The address Suzanne slipped Darger led them to a tile-roofed villa on a ridge overlooking the water that belonged to Arthur Brinkman, Christiaan’s uncle. It had a circular drive shaded by lush plantings of palm trees and elephant ears. This felt more like the tropical jungle Darger had imagined when she’d pictured Curaçao from afar.
“I guess being a bigshot on the tourism board pays well,” Owen said.
They parked under a pergola dripping with coral vine and walked up the grand staircase that led to the front door.
Owen rang the bell, and a moment later, a young woman with a baby on her hip answered the door.
“May I help you?” she asked in accented English.
“We’re looking for Christiaan Brinkman. Is he here?”
The woman’s mouth tightened, an expression Darger read as distaste.
“Who is asking?”
Darger showed her badge, thinking that if her hunch was right about the woman not liking Christiaan, it might only take a little pressing for her to give him up.
The woman blinked, her eyes wider now.
“FBI… This is serious, then?”
“Very serious.”
If Darger wasn’t mistaken, the woman almost looked pleased now. She pointed them to the side of the house.
“Mr. Christiaan is in the guest house. Follow me.”
The woman slipped out through the door and led them around a sweeping veranda and into a courtyard with a pool, hot tub, and yet more plantings of tropical flora. At the far side of the courtyard, the woman paused in front of a structure that matched the colonial style of the main house, with pale yellow stucco, red roof tiles, and white latticework fencing.
The woman rapped her knuckles against the door. Darger could hear the muffled bass of a hip-hop song thumping against the walls.
“Mr. Christiaan? You have guests.”
The woman didn’t wait for him to answer the door. She simply inclined her head in a quick bow and returned to the house, the two kids in tow.
The music became crisp and distinct as the door swung open. A man in his twenties squinted out at them with bloodshot eyes. Behind him, the space looked dim, like he had all the blinds closed. Darger smelled the skunky odor of pot smoke.
Darger took out her badge again.
“Christiaan Brinkman? We’d like to ask you a few questions,” she said, raising her voice above the music, which Christiaan had made no attempt to turn down.
“So. You finally tracked me down.” He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. “Who narced on me? Reggie?”
Darger didn’t know who Reggie was, but decided to ignore that for now.
“You heard about Micaela?”
Christiaan cocked his head to one side.
“Yeah. I heard.” He scratched his scraggly goatee. “That’s a bad deal.”
“That’s it?” Owen asked. “A bad deal? If my girlfriend had just been murdered, I think I’d be pretty upset.”
The kid’s face hardened.
“Yeah? You think so?” His eyes were suddenly moist. “And what makes you think I’m not upset? Who the fuck even let you in here? It was that nosy bitch of a nanny, wasn’t it? She shouldn’t be letting you onto the property like this. I should tell my uncle to fire her ass.”
He tried to push past them, but Darger put a hand on his arm. He lurched away from her.
“Don’t touch me. Do you have any idea who I am?”
“You’re nobody, kid,” Owen said, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Your dad and your uncle might be somebody, but you ain’t shit. And you’d be smart to be thinking about who she is.”
He aimed a thumb at Darger.
“Because once the FBI gets involved in this, it won’t matter if
you’re King Hoogen-fuck of the whole Netherlands.”
A tear spilled over Christiaan’s eyelashes, and his chin quivered slightly.
Darger broke in, her tone softer than Owen’s. Apparently they were going to play good cop-bad cop this time around.
“You’re upset and scared,” she said. “I get it. But we really need to ask you some questions about the night Micaela disappeared.”
Christiaan sniffled and wiped the moisture from his cheek.
“Goddamnit. What do you want to know?”
“You were hanging out at The Shelter that night, is that right?”
“Yeah. We’re there pretty much every night if there’s nothing else going on.”
“And what time did the group break up?”
Christiaan stared up at the sky.
“I left around midnight. I don’t know how late everyone else stayed.”
“Did Micaela go with you when you left?”
“No. We… sort of had a disagreement. That’s why I bailed once I found out she was missing. I figured someone would find a way to try to make it like I had something to do with it. But I hear they think her dad did it, so I guess I’m off the hook.” He straightened, trying to recoup a little of his former swagger. “That’s the only reason I’m talking to you, by the way.”
“Do you have any idea what Micaela did after that? Did you text or talk or anything later that night?” Darger asked.
“No. Like I said. We had words.”
“About what?”
“Hell if I know.” Christiaan made a dismissive sound. “She was already on the warpath because of the fight with her dad over him finding the— actually, I don’t know what it was all about. Only thing I know is she was in a fucking mood, and she started taking it out on me, as usual, so I left.”
Owen raised his eyebrows.
“You get into a fight with your girlfriend on the night she went missing and is later found dead… you’re pretty lucky they figure her dad for it, wouldn’t you say?” Owen asked.
Christiaan sneered.
“Man, whatever. I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to her, so people can think whatever they want. And everyone keeps wanting to call me her boyfriend, but we weren’t even officially dating.”
“No?”
“Like, I’m not denying that we hooked up a few times, but it’s not like we were exclusive, OK?”
Owen tucked his hands into his pockets.
“And did that have anything to do with the fight?”
“The fight with her dad?”
“The one between you and Micaela that night. Was she upset because she found out that you considered her more of a friend with benefits? Maybe that you were seeing other people?”
“First of all, I never said we had a fight. I said we had a disagreement. Quit trying to put words in my mouth. And second, I wasn’t exclusive to her, and she wasn’t to me. You should talk to Reggie about that.”
This was the second time he’d mentioned this Reggie person.
“Reggie Isenia?” Owen said.
“Yeah.”
“Why? You think there was something going on between him and Micaela?”
Christiaan shrugged.
“I wouldn’t have thought it before. Reggie’s always been a solid dude. But after I left that night, I heard he was putting the moves on Micaela.”
“But you don’t care, right?” Owen said. “After all, you two weren't exclusive.”
Christiaan shook his head with contempt, then turned to Darger.
“Are we done?”
“For now,” she said.
She and Owen walked back across the courtyard. The woman they’d spoken to earlier was sitting on the edge of the pool with the baby beside her in a bouncy seat. An older child, maybe four or five years old, splashed around in the shallow end.
“Nanny, watch!” he said, clambering out of the pool and then performing a cannonball.
The woman smiled and clapped her hands.
“That was a good one, Timo. Big splash.”
Darger halted. Maybe the nanny would have an idea of Christiaan’s whereabouts last night, particularly around the time Micaela was being unceremoniously dumped in a shallow grave.
“Excuse me,” Darger said. “I just have a quick question. I was wondering if you were here last night?”
The woman nodded.
“I’m here every night.”
“Do you know if Christiaan was here or not?”
The nanny pursed her lips.
“Oh. He was here.”
“The whole time?”
“I don’t know about that. But he kept waking up the baby with that damn music. I had to ask him four times to turn it down.”
“Do you remember what time?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed to slits as she thought about it.
“Little James has been teething, so it’s been rough getting him to sleep at a normal time. I put him down at seven, but he was up again at nine. I gave him a bottle, and then he was out for maybe an hour and a half. That was when the music started up and woke him. So 10:30, maybe eleven the first time. The music got turned off for maybe an hour and then started up again a little before midnight. The baby woke up again, and again I asked Mr. Christiaan to please turn it down. We went through it two more times before I finally had enough. I called his uncle in the middle of the night. He’s back in Amsterdam on a business trip. But he must have been quite firm with Mr. Christiaan, because the music went off and stayed off. He came storming into the house after that, banging on the door of my room. Calling me all sorts of names.”
“Well… He sounds like a delightful young man.”
The woman sniffed out a laugh.
“I’m used to it by now. He’s threatened to have me fired more times than I can count, but the truth is, the Brinkmans wouldn’t know what to do without me.”
Darger smiled.
“What time did he bang on your door, do you remember?”
“It was just after three.”
“OK,” Darger said. “Thank you.”
Darger and Owen returned to the car.
“Well, he’s got an alibi for last night at least,” Darger said. “It doesn’t sound like Christiaan could have been at Sully’s house, potentially orchestrating his fake suicide and burying Micaela’s body.”
“True,” Owen agreed.
“You talked to this Reggie guy he kept mentioning?”
Owen dragged his fingers through his stubble.
“Yeah, he was at the juice bar when I talked to Suzanne and Hugo the first time.”
“And?”
“He was pretty quiet. Didn’t say much. Confirmed what everyone else said — that Micaela was upset about the fight with her dad. Swore he hadn’t heard from her or seen her since that night.”
Darger buckled her seatbelt.
“Well, let’s go see what he has to say for himself now.”
CHAPTER 15
They found Reggie Isenia behind the front desk of one of the beach front mega-resorts. He wore a suit and tie and had a Bluetooth earpiece hooked over one ear. He kept his customer service smile in place even after Darger flashed her badge, turning to one of his coworkers and explaining that he’d be stepping away for a few minutes.
As soon as they were outside and out of view of the front desk, Reggie’s cheerful facade vanished. His shoulders slumped.
“This is about Micaela, isn’t it?” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
“That’s right,” Darger said.
He shook his head.
“I can’t believe this is real. I just… how can someone be there one day and then be gone? Forever?”
“Were the two of you very close?” Darger asked.
Reggie picked at the cuff of his suit jacket.
“I only met Micaela this summer. My family just moved here from Barber at the beginning of the year. So everyone else has known her a while longer than I have.”
�
�But you two formed a bond in that time?” Darger said.
Reggie chewed his lip.
“You could say that.”
“A close bond?”
“I don’t know,” he said, fidgeting. “I mean… we were friends.”
“Just friends?”
“Yeah.”
Darger cocked her head to one side and looked him in the eye.
“You didn’t have any romantic interest in her?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Owen said. “She was a pretty girl.”
Reggie frowned.
“Sure, but… I’m sorry. What does this have to do with anything?”
“Christiaan seemed convinced there was something more going on between the two of you.”
The smooth skin of Reggie’s forehead piled into a mess of wrinkles.
“Between Micaela and I?” He licked his lips and glanced around, as if to make sure that no one was listening. “Is this conversation confidential?”
“Of course,” Darger said. It was a complete lie, depending on what he told them.
“Micaela’s one of the only people that knows about me. Or… knew about me, I guess,” Reggie said, his eyes fixed on the ground.
“I don’t understand. Knew what about you?”
He spread his hands wide.
“I’m gay.”
“I see,” Darger said, nodding. She understood now how Christiaan could have mistaken the closeness between Reggie and Micaela as something it wasn’t.
He sighed.
“I know it probably sounds like totally 20th century, me not being out. But my family is very strict Catholic. Like, one of my mother’s dreams would be for me to become a priest.”
“OK, I’m sorry,” Owen said. “But you just referenced the 20th century like it was part of the medieval times.”
Reggie shrugged.
“Well it basically was.”
Darger winced and laughed a little.
“Ouch.”
Reggie sighed.
“My point is, I can’t tell my other friends without risking my family finding out. I didn’t even mean to tell Micaela. It just kind of slipped out one night. But it was nice, having someone I could actually be myself around. Not having to try so hard to pretend. Being accepted for who I am. So yeah, I guess there was a bond between us that maybe Christiaan would have picked up on. But it wasn’t romantic. At all. She knew what it was like to have to put on a show for everyone. To act like you’re someone else.”
