Trouble in Paradise: A Violet Darger Novella

by L. T. Vargus

  “How so?”

  “Her mom and stepdad are very… the way she put it was that they treat her like some sort of doll. They only really care about how she ‘represents’ the family. They grounded her for three months last year because she got a C-plus in her Physics class. Can you imagine that? My parents would have been thrilled with a C-plus.” Reggie raised his eyes to the sky. “That’s what we really bonded over. The fact that we both come from families that want us to be a particular way. Like we’re not good enough just how we are.”

  “What about her dad? Did he put the same kind of pressure on her?”

  Reggie almost recoiled at the suggestion.

  “No way. Micaela always said she was lucky that way. Having one solid parent she could rely on. Always fantasized about living with him so she could finally relax and be herself. But when he found the pot in her room… he was really mad. Said all this stuff about being disappointed in her, and she took that hard, because he’d always been the one to tell her how proud he was, no matter what. She was in rough shape that night. She was talking about running away.”

  “To where?”

  “Nowhere in particular. It wasn’t like she had a plan. But she was almost panicked about going back to her dad’s.”

  Darger crossed her arms.

  “Because she was scared?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so.” He paused, a frown furrowing his brow. “Or I didn’t think so at the time, but now… Maybe there was more going on that she didn’t tell me. But she always talked about her dad like he was her rock, you know? And he took us all out on the boat a few times. He didn’t seem like a bad guy. Didn’t seem like… I mean, before that night Micaela had never complained about him. Not once. Her stepdad was the one she hated. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “What about the argument with Christiaan?”

  “Oh right. That. Micaela was already on edge because of the stuff with her dad. She was trying to get Christiaan to let her take his car. That way she could drive around for the night instead of going home. But Christiaan isn’t used to sharing his toys. He said no, and things kind of fell apart from there.”

  “What happened after that?” Darger asked.

  “Christiaan left. He’s very dramatic that way.”

  “And when did Micaela leave?”

  “We all left around one. She was trying to get one of us to let her stay over, but Suzanne and Hugo had to work in the morning, and my parents think I’m straight so it’s not like they’re going to let me have a girl over, you know? So she was upset, and she stormed out. I swear, her and Christiaan were a good match in that way.”

  “And that was the last you saw her?”

  Reggie blinked, not making eye contact.

  “Well, no…”

  “No?”

  Reggie began to fidget again.

  “It’s like three miles back to Micaela’s dad’s house. I didn’t like the idea of her walking all that way alone. So I was planning to go after her on my bike. Make sure she got home safe. But I went to the bathroom first. By the time I got outside, Micaela was like several blocks down the road, and…”

  Reggie took in a shaky breath. Swallowed.

  “And?” Darger prodded.

  “I saw her getting into a car.”

  “Who’s car?”

  “I don’t know. A car.”

  “Christiaan’s car?” Owen asked.

  “No, he drives a Range Rover,” Reggie said. “This was smaller. Sporty, I guess you could say.”

  Darger couldn’t believe this. Someone had seen Micaela getting into a strange car the night she disappeared. Whoever had been driving that car was quite possibly the last person to see her alive.

  “Did you tell this to the police when they interviewed you?”

  “They never interviewed me. But I called them. Told them what I’d seen.”

  “Do you remember who you talked to?” Darger asked. “Was it Detective Vinke?”

  “I don’t think it was a detective. Whoever it was said they’d pass on the information.”

  “But they didn’t send anyone to do a follow-up interview?”

  “No.”

  Owen put his hands on his hips.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this stuff about seeing Micaela get into a car before?” Owen asked. “That would have been really important to know.”

  Reggie closed his eyes.

  “Because… we all thought Micaela had maybe gone off with a guy or something. To piss Christiaan off. Or her parents. I mean, kill two birds with one stone, right? I didn’t want to get her into trouble with her parents or Christiaan.” He blinked away tears. “If I’d known she was really missing, I would have told, I swear.”

  “Can you tell us anything else about the car? You said it was small and sporty. Did you see what color it was?”

  “No,” Reggie said. “It was too dark. I only really saw it from the back, so I can’t say much else about it.”

  He turned and stared into the fountain.

  “I just keep thinking about what might have happened if I’d called out to her. If she hadn’t gotten into that car, maybe she’d still be alive.”

  Darger patted his shoulder. She wasn’t a stranger to that kind of doubt and regret.

  “This isn’t your fault.”

  “I know. But it’s hard not to wonder. What if one small thing went different that night and changed everything?”

  “We can’t go backward, Reggie. Only forward. The only thing we can do now is make sure that whoever did this is held accountable.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Darger and Owen parted ways with Reggie and returned to the car. Instead of getting inside, Darger stopped beside the passenger door and got out her phone.

  “Who are you calling?” Owen asked.

  “Loshak. If he’s still in the area of the club, we should have him look around for any security cameras.”

  “Good idea. If we can spot Micaela getting into the car, we could get a plate. Or at least a make or model.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up just yet.”

  Loshak picked up, and Darger relayed what they’d learned from Reggie.

  “We’re thinking if there are any cameras in the vicinity of where she was picked up, we might be able to ID the car or the driver or both,” Darger explained.

  “We’re on it,” Loshak said.

  "OK. We’re heading over now. I want to see what the area looks like for myself.”

  On the ride, Darger tried to reconcile this new information with what they already knew.

  “So I’m thinking whoever picked up Micaela was someone she knew, right?” Darger said. “She wouldn’t get into a stranger’s car, would she?”

  “Hard to say.” Owen drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “Hitchhiking is more common here than in the states. It’s considered a legitimate form of transportation by a lot of backpackers. I’ve done it a few times myself.”

  Darger didn’t like the idea of adding the entirety of the island population into the suspect pool. Murders were much easier to solve when they were committed by someone who knew the victim.

  “OK, but let’s discuss the possibility that it was someone she knew. I think we can rule out Sully, Christiaan, and probably Reggie. Who does that leave?”

  “Her stepdad, for one,” Owen said.

  “It certainly doesn’t seem like any of her friends are very fond of him,” Darger agreed. “We should see if he has a car here.”

  They were silent for a moment, and then Owen chuckled.

  “What?” Darger asked.

  “Oh, I was just thinking about how I felt personally attacked when Reggie referred to the 20th century like it was the olden times,” Owen said. “Made me feel old. Then again, I guess I am old.”

  “You? The adventuresome sailor?”

  “I mean, that’s actually a key part of it. I remember being a teenager. Me and Ethan would run all over my uncle’s boat. Shimmying up the mast.
We could go all day and be ready to do the same thing the next day. These days, even the smallest thing makes me sore the next day. I repaired the jib one day, a little hand sewing. My thumb hurt for a week.”

  Darger smiled.

  “Welcome to middle age.”

  They reached the area Micaela had last been seen and parked. The club the group had been hanging out in that night was housed in one of the candy-colored buildings near the Queen Emma Bridge.

  They walked around the corner, and Owen pointed down a side street.

  “Down there is where Reggie said he saw her getting into the car.”

  “Let’s go.”

  They started down the narrow lane. It was really more of an alley than a full street, allowing access to the back of the shops. Darger didn’t see any cameras. But when they reached the next intersection, the cross street was lined with more storefronts. Immediately, Darger spotted a CCTV camera over the door of the souvenir shop on the corner.

  “That place has a camera,” she said.

  Owen held the door open for her, and they entered Sunset Souvenirs. The walls and shelves were lined with t-shirts and sarongs, keychains and shot glasses, baseball hats and flip-flops. Near a glass-encased display case stocked with beaded jewelry and coin purses, Darger noticed two familiar faces.

  Loshak and Spinks stood in front of a cash register, talking to a woman speaking rapid-fire Korean.

  Darger didn’t know Korean, but she could tell by the look on Loshak’s face that the news wasn’t good.

  “What is it?” she asked. “The camera is fake?”

  Loshak smeared a hand over his face.

  “No. But it only records about three days worth of video before it automatically starts to record over the old data.”

  Darger sighed.

  “So the footage of Micaela is long gone.”

  The woman at the register gestured and said something else in Korean. There was a small boy, maybe seven years old beside her.

  “But she says you already have it.”

  “Pardon?”

  The boy asked the woman a question. Judging by her age, Darger figured it was his grandmother. The woman responded to the question, her tone clearly indicating impatience.

  “She said no wonder you never catch any of the thieves in town, and then she said the police here are all babos. That means idiots.” The boy stifled a laugh. “You already came for the video. The day after.”

  Loshak squatted down so he could look the boy in the eye.

  “Are you saying someone already came down here and made a copy?”

  The boy nodded.

  “Yes. Some of the other police did. Aren’t they your friends?”

  Before Loshak could answer, the boy’s grandmother waved her hands and issued some kind of command directed at them.

  “Halmi says that it’s not good for business to have police in her shop all the time. Makes it look like she’s trouble.”

  “Tell her we’re very sorry for the inconvenience,” Spinks said.

  The four of them filed out of the shop, then paused on the sidewalk to discuss what they’d learned.

  “Beethoven never mentioned this security footage to you, did he?” Darger asked.

  “No,” Loshak said. “Which might mean there’s nothing useful on it.”

  Darger shrugged.

  “Still, I’d like to see it. You think he’d let us take a look at it if we ask real nice?”

  “There’s no reason for him to keep it from us, not really. But we should still probably tread carefully,” Loshak said.

  “I don’t think he cared much for the fact that I was a member of the press.” Spinks raised one eyebrow. “Might be better if you guys handled this law enforcement to law enforcement. More coffee and pastries wouldn’t hurt either.”

  “Really? He refused when I offered.”

  “Yeah, but I saw some flecks of glaze in his mustache when we were at the scene yesterday. I think he was just too proud to eat any of it in your presence.”

  “Huh.” Loshak adjusted his sunglasses. “Well then let’s find a bakery and head over there.”

  CHAPTER 17

  The East Willemstad station of the Dutch Caribbean Police Force was painted an institutional blue-gray. Iron bars striped some of the windows of the small attached jail. Darger wondered how often they had to lock up tourists for being drunk and disorderly.

  She held the front door open for Loshak, who had his arms full with coffee and donuts.

  “Let’s chat up Detective Vinke, first,” Loshak said as he breezed past her. “The fact that he’s a rookie might work to our advantage.”

  The blast of conditioned air that hit Darger as she entered reminded her of what she was wearing. The denim short-shorts. Great. Very professional.

  The first floor of the station had an open floor plan, with a dozen metal desks arranged in a grid. Police personnel bustled about filing paperwork and talking on phones. They spotted Vinke at a desk in the far corner and made their way over.

  Darger noticed he was reading something. As they got closer, she recognized the cover of Loshak’s book.

  Vinke sensed their approach, his eyebrows raised in an expression of comical surprise when he saw them coming. He snapped the book shut and hastily stuffed it in one of the drawers of his desk.

  “Agent Loshak. Hello,” he said.

  “Good afternoon, Detective.” Loshak set down the coffee and donuts. “We thought you guys might have worked up an appetite after all that hard police work you did yesterday.”

  Vinke stared at him as if trying to decide if he was being made fun of. When he realized Loshak was sincere, he smiled.

  “Well… thank you. That’s very nice of you.”

  “I don’t think you’ve been formally introduced. This is my partner, Agent Darger.”

  “Of course,” Vinke said, shaking her hand. “I’ve read all about you. Well, not all about you, of course. Just articles, you know. On the internet.”

  As he rambled, two small pink splotches on his cheeks slowly grew to encompass the entirety of his face.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Darger said.

  “Donut?” Loshak asked, flipping open the lid of the box.

  “Well… sure.”

  He selected a chocolate-covered donut. Loshak waited for him to take a bite the way an angler waited for a fish to take the bait. When Vinke’s mouth was full of donut, Loshak settled himself onto the corner of his desk.

  “So while we’re here, is there any chance we could take a quick peek at the video?”

  Vinke’s chewing slowed to a stop. He swallowed.

  “Pardon?”

  “The security video. From Sunset Souvenirs.”

  Vinke’s eyelids blinked twice.

  “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

  “Come on,” Loshak said, his tone affable. “We talked to the lady who runs the store. She said you guys came and took a copy of the footage from the night Micaela disappeared.”

  Suddenly a loud voice boomed from behind them.

  “If it isn’t our new friends from the FBI!” Beethoven called out.

  He had a big politician’s smile pasted on his broad face.

  “Detective, why didn’t you tell me we had visitors? I wouldn’t want Agent Loshak here to think I was avoiding him.”

  Beethoven clapped Loshak on the shoulder.

  “And you brought your pretty young partner today.” He eyed the frayed hem of Darger’s cut-offs. “Wonderful. That’s wonderful.”

  “Chief,” Vinke said, clearing his throat. “Are you aware of a security video from a souvenir shop?”

  “Video…” Beethoven squinting, making a show of trying to remember. “Oh right! Now I remember. I sent Willems and Maduro over to grab that.”

  Vinke’s face flushed again, but Darger thought it was for an entirely different reason this time.

  “Why—” He stopped and took a breath. “No one notified me that
there was a video.”

  Beethoven pointed at the top of Vinke’s desk, which was covered in various stacks of paper and manila folders.

  “There was a memo.” The chief poked at one of the stacks, lifting one corner up. “There we go.”

  Now Vinke looked really embarrassed. Even his ears were red.

  “Anyway, I watched the video myself. There wasn’t anything pertinent to our case on it.”

  “Would you mind if we took a look?” Loshak asked.

  Beethoven put his hands on his hips.

  “Sure, though I don’t really know why it’s necessary. Micaela was killed by her father, who then took his own life. Case is pretty much closed, as far as I’m concerned.”

  Darger had suspected that the chief considered the case solved, and this only served to confirm that suspicion. He was no doubt quite pleased to have this murder resolve into a family domestic situation. One crazy dad going postal and murdering his daughter wasn’t the kind of story that would keep the tourists away. Neat and simple.

  “We’re just being thorough,” Loshak said. “That’s all. Dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s. I’d hate to see an open-and-shut case like this start to unravel. I’ve seen it happen before… One innocent assumption can lead to an entire department looking like fools, when if they’d just turned over a few more stones they would have sealed the deal.”

  Beethoven shrugged.

  “Sure, sure. It’s still a waste of time if you ask me, but far be it from me to tell the FBI how to do its job. I’ll go get the video from the evidence lockup. Back in a jiffy, as you Americans say.”

  Darger leaned in when Beethoven was out of earshot.

  “I have literally never said ‘back in a jiffy’ in my life.”

  A few minutes later, Beethoven returned with an evidence baggie. He peeled open the zip-top and upended the bag over Vinke’s desk. A small zip drive tumbled onto the detritus on top of the desk.

  Vinke snatched it up and spent a few seconds flipping the drive over and upside down, trying to get it into the USB port on the side of his computer.