Trouble in Paradise: A Violet Darger Novella

by L. T. Vargus

  “Damn thing,” he muttered.

  Finally he managed to connect the device. There was a single folder on the drive, and inside that folder was a single file. He double-clicked the video. The computer chimed, and an error message popped up.

  “Can’t play the media file,” he read. “Unable to get audio/video data.”

  “For crying out loud. Let me try,” Beethoven said.

  He closed the dialog box and tried again to open the file. The computer dinged, repeating the error.

  Beethoven straightened, his eyes scanning the room.

  “De Windt! A little help over here,” he said, calling to a man at the other end of the station. “De Windt is our IT specialist. He’ll be able to figure this out.”

  De Windt jogged over.

  “Yeah, Chief?”

  “We’ve got this video file here, but it won’t play.”

  “May I?” De Windt asked, and Vinke slid out of his chair.

  Seated in front of the laptop, De Windt tried his hand at opening the file. When the error dialog popped up, he shook his head.

  “Looks like the file is corrupted,” he said.

  Beethoven frowned.

  “Corrupted? What the hell does that mean?”

  “That the file was damaged somehow,” De Windt explained.

  “How does that even happen?” Beethoven waved his hands in the air. “It’s not a real thing. It’s digital. It’s not like a CD that gets all scratched up or whatever. It was working just a few days ago.”

  “The data itself can get damaged. It could be the result of a virus or malware.”

  “Oh Jesus,” Beethoven moaned. “Don’t tell me that.”

  “Or it could be the drive itself. Sometimes they’re defective.”

  Beethoven made an impatient gesture.

  “Can you fix it?”

  “I can try. Sometimes you can recover these things. But I can’t make any promises, and it’ll take some time.”

  De Windt left to tinker with the thumb drive. Beethoven turned to the agents.

  “This is… this is embarrassing is what it is.” He sighed.”Look, I watched the video myself, and there wasn’t anything there.”

  “You’re saying Micaela wasn’t on the video, getting into a car the night she disappeared?”

  Beethoven scratched the back of his head.

  “There was someone getting into a car, but you couldn’t make much of anything out, it being dark and the video being not of the highest quality.”

  Darger changed tack.

  “Have you talked with Sully’s neighbor?”

  “His neighbor?” Chief Beethoven raised an eyebrow.

  “Linda Bakker,” Darger said.

  “Oh. Mrs. Bakker.” Beethoven’s head bobbed up and down like a marionette. “Of course.”

  “Did she tell you she saw someone digging in Sully’s backyard?”

  “She did. So now we’ve got an eyewitness to the disposal of the remains, at least.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Darger asked. “Because Mrs. Bakker told us she saw someone digging at three.”

  Beethoven just stared at her.

  “And?”

  “Sully’s time of death was around midnight,” Darger said. “One A.M. at the latest.”

  The muscles along Beethoven’s jaw tightened.

  “Where’d you get that from? The medical examiner hasn’t filed the report yet.”

  Resisting the urge to shoot Loshak a look, Darger just said, “We have a source.”

  “I see. Well, until the M.E. files the official autopsy report, I don’t care what your so-called source has to say about it. And besides, Mrs. Bakker is about as old as Moses, so I don’t know if I’d pin the entire investigation on what she thinks she saw or what time she thinks she saw it.” Beethoven affected a thoughtful expression. “You know, I might be overstepping my bounds by saying this, but I wonder if you’re having some trouble being objective on this whole thing, considering it was Sully who hired you, and he’s now the apparent perpetrator.”

  “We haven’t been hired by anyone,” Loshak said. “We’re law enforcement just like you. We serve the public, and our only interest is in seeking truth and justice.”

  Beethoven smirked.

  “And the American Way, eh?”

  Loshak crossed his arms, unsmiling.

  “I don’t generally like to play jurisdictional games. But I feel like I have to remind you that both Micaela Tolliver and her father are American citizens, which gives us the right to investigate.”

  The corners of Beethoven’s mouth turned down in an exaggerated frown.

  “Hold on, now. There’s no need to get your feather’s all a-ruffle. Truth and justice are what I seek as well, Agent Loshak. That’s what the job is about, no?” Beethoven spread his arms wide. “Now if there’s any way — any way at all — that we can be of further assistance, do let us know. Will you?”

  Darger realized they were being dismissed. Not that it mattered. They had gotten nowhere and she didn’t expect any amount of arguing with Beethoven would make a difference.

  Just after they exited the police station, someone called out to them.

  “Agents, wait!”

  Darger turned and saw Detective Vinke jogging after them. They paused on the sidewalk and let him catch up.

  “I’m sorry. I just… feel like I owe you an apology. That whole thing with the video? I mean, that makes us look like a bunch of… what is it you call them on your American shows… rookies?”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t believe that’s an apology I can accept,” Loshak said. “Not because I don’t think it’s genuine, but because the party truly harmed by the mishandling of evidence is the victim. And the public at large if it allows a murderer to walk free.”

  “Absolutely,” Vinke said, nodding. “And I also agree with what you said, about making sure we leave no stone unturned? It’s like you say in your book, ‘One must always go beyond the circumstantial.’”

  Loshak studied the young detective for a moment.

  “If you remember that, Vinke, you’ll have a bright future in law enforcement. Circumstantial evidence is the tool of the lazy and the foolish. Don’t be the type that settles for easy answers. Always be willing to fight to swim upstream.”

  Though he stopped short of naming Vinke’s boss, the implication was clear.

  Vinke pulled a card from his jacket.

  “I wish there was more I could do, but… Well, here’s my card. If you have any other questions or anything, I’ll do what I can.”

  Loshak pocketed the card and shook the detective’s hand.

  “Thank you. And remember: keep swimming.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Darger could feel the waves of pissed-off energy coming from Loshak as they walked back to where they’d left Owen and Spinks.

  “This is unbelievable,” he finally said. “Something is going on here. He knows something. This is… I mean, I’m starting to wonder if we’re the last two honest people in law enforcement left on the goddamn planet.”

  Darger raised her eyebrows.

  “Is there something else going on I should know about?”

  He sighed.

  “No. Sorry. I just can’t believe he’d try to snow us like that. He’s not even a good liar.”

  They turned a corner and found their two partners in crime loitering outside of a cafe.

  “Look at the puss,” Spinks said, gesturing at the scowl on Loshak’s face. “That isn’t good.”

  “He wouldn’t let you see the video?” Owen asked.

  “Worse,” Darger said. “The video file is corrupted. It’s unplayable.”

  “Well, how convenient.” Spinks leaned back on his heels. “That’s not suspicious at all.”

  “Someone’s covering up something,” Owen said.

  “The question is how to approach this without spooking them into destroying more evidence,” Darger said.

  “Maybe not. Maybe we am
p up the spooking,” Owen said. “Whoever is behind all this seems awfully panicky.”

  “That’s true.”

  Darger fanned herself.

  “Hot?”

  “Oh no. I love roasting in my own juices under an incandescent sun.”

  “There’s a place down the street with the best conch tacos on the islands. They also have air conditioning, so we can talk this over without burning to a crisp out here.”

  Spinks waggled his eyebrows.

  “Well now, I simply couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try the best conch on the islands. Lead the way.”

  Inside, they talked more. The air conditioning was heavenly. Darger’s skin felt dry for the first time all day. She ordered a guava iced tea, sucked it down, and ordered another.

  “Seems to me that if someone is going to all this trouble, there’s something bigger going on here than just one missing and now dead girl,” Spinks said.

  Loshak ate a bite of his taco and then let his fist fall to the table with a thud.

  “What?” Spinks said.

  Loshak aimed the tines of his fork at the reporter.

  “Don’t.”

  “I’m just saying…”

  “Don’t what?” Darger asked.

  Loshak’s gaze flicked from Spinks to Darger and then back to Spinks.

  “Someone’s keeping secrets,” Owen said in a sing-song voice.

  Loshak sighed.

  “The human trafficking thing in Kansas City. It’s made some of us a bit paranoid.” He was still glaring at Spinks. “In any case, this is exactly what I’m talking about when I say you can’t get ahead of the investigation. We follow the evidence. Just because we have a girl dead under mysterious circumstances and some shady cops doesn’t automatically make it the same as Kansas City. So drop it.”

  Spinks backed off, hands up.

  “It’s not unheard of, you know,” Owen said. “That kind of thing happening down here, I mean.”

  “Yeah well, let’s allow the evidence dictate that, OK?” Loshak shook his head. “For all we know, the police are simply covering for the boyfriend because his uncle is king shit of this little island.”

  “You still think the boyfriend is involved?”

  “No, but the police might think he is,” Loshak said. “Or it could just be that he wants all this messed cleaned up and put away in a nice little package so they don’t have a replay of what happened in Aruba.”

  Owen smeared his hands on a paper napkin.

  “Doesn’t that make him a suspect?”

  “In Micaela’s murder?” Loshak asked.

  “No. In Sully’s fake suicide.”

  Loshak licked a splotch of sauce from the corner of his mouth.

  “I’d expect better from law enforcement, frankly. That was a messy, half-assed job.” He shook his head. “No, I think he’s merely looking the other way on all of it. Not seeing what’s there because this is the easier story to sell. It’s convenient.”

  When they finished eating, Owen insisted on picking up the bill.

  “I thought I was asking you down here for something simple,” he said, signing the credit card slip.”Find a missing girl. Easy peasy. I feel kinda bad it’s turned into such a quagmire.”

  Darger smiled.

  “We’re federal employees. Quagmires are what we do best.”

  They exited the restaurant and headed back toward the marina, discussing amongst themselves their next move.

  “We could go back to Sunset Souvenirs and talk to the shop owner. I’m thinking the police probably watched the video there, in the shop, before they made their copy. They would have to in order to know what file to take, right? Maybe she can give us more details.”

  They rounded the corner of an alleyway, and one side of the marina came into view. Darger stopped.

  Owen came to a halt just behind her.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  She pointed at the policemen swarming Owen’s boat.

  “I think we have a problem.”

  CHAPTER 19

  “What the fuck are they doing to my boat?” Owen said before taking off in a sprint.

  “Owen, wait!”

  Her feet pounded over the dock as she tried to catch up with him. Just before he reached his slip, Scott Milano seemed to appear from nowhere.

  “You motherfucker!” he growled, swinging his fist.

  Owen tried to dodge away from the sucker-punch, but it was too late. There was an audible crack as Scott’s knuckle’s collided with Owen’s nose.

  Loshak and Spinks darted forward, wrestling Scott to the ground before he could do more damage. Darger searched her pockets for something to stanch the blood now gushing from Owen’s nostrils.

  Beethoven hopped over the side of Owen’s boat, one hand digging for something behind his back. Darger thought maybe he was going for a handkerchief for Owen’s nose. Instead, he produced a pair of handcuffs and snapped them onto Owen’s wrists.

  “Mr. Baxter, you are under arrest for the murder of Micaela Tolliver. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law.”

  “This is a fucking joke,” Owen said, his teeth stained red from the blood running down his face.

  Darger stepped in front of him. The worst thing Owen could do right now was say anything.

  “Chief Beethoven, you’re making a mistake,” she said.

  Beethoven put a hand up.

  “I’ve humored you up to now out of professional courtesy, but anything further, and I’m going to consider it obstructing an ongoing homicide investigation.” He angled his chin at Loshak. “I think it would be better for everyone if you two just went home.”

  “Not a chance,” Darger said. “What evidence do you have that Owen had anything to do with this?”

  Beethoven’s eyes slid over to Owen.

  “We found a shovel, caked with dirt matching that from Micaela Tolliver’s grave—”

  Darger scoffed.

  “Amazing technology you’ve got down here. Back in the states, it would take us days or weeks to get the lab results back on something like that.”

  The Chief ignored her sarcasm and went on.

  “We also found Miss Tolliver’s purse. Covered in blood.” His eyes narrowed as he stared Owen down. “Her blood. On your boat. Anything to say about that, Mr. Baxter?”

  “Only that it’d take a real idiot to keep souvenirs like that just lying around.”

  “Owen, it’s better if you don’t say anything right now,” Darger said.

  He didn’t seem to hear her.

  “Oh, and let me guess,” Owen said. “You got an anonymous tip that led you to this very damning evidence on my boat.”

  “As a matter of fact… yes,” Beethoven said.

  “Owen—” Darger said. He needed to shut up.

  Owen snorted.

  “That doesn’t sound real stupid to you? And what’s the story, exactly? I killed Micaela, called in a favor at the FBI, killed Sully before they got here, and then made sure to keep highly incriminating physical evidence where anyone might find it?”

  “Owen, stop talking,” Darger said.

  “All I know is that you’ve got evidence of a crime in your domicile, sir. So I’ll be the one asking the questions.” Beethoven waved over two detectives standing nearby. “Take him down to the station and book him.”

  Darger couldn’t help but notice that Vinke was absent. Had he been taken off the case?

  As Owen was led away in handcuffs, Darger again reminded him to keep his mouth shut.

  “Call a lawyer, and don’t say another word until he gets there.”

  Beethoven put his hands on his hips, making his silhouette as wide as possible.

  “Now I’m going to need you to step back from my crime scene. I won’t ask again.”

  Darger glared at him, her molars grinding together. She didn’t find the big oaf threatening in the least, and she wanted him to know that.

  “Come on,” Lo
shak said, hooking a hand around her elbow and giving her a gentle tug backward. “We don’t want to make things worse for Owen.”

  He was right, she knew. She backed up, allowing Loshak to pull her further down the dock, away from Owen’s boat.

  “There’s no way he did this.”

  “That’s obvious,” Loshak said. “Someone is framing him and doing a sloppy job of it.”

  Darger let her shoulders slump as she relaxed a little. Loshak raised one eyebrow.

  “You think I’d buy this crap?”

  “No, I just… if we follow the evidence, and it ends up being on Owen’s boat…”

  Loshak waved a hand.

  “But we know Owen. He’s no idiot. He knows how cops think. Knows how investigations work. Knows people. There are plenty of morons in the world that might keep that kind of smoking gun around, but Owen isn’t one of them.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Just like with Micaela’s body, there are a thousand places someone could have hidden it if they truly wanted to conceal the crime, which both her father and Owen would have wanted to do if they were the perpetrators. Micaela and that evidence should be at the bottom of the Caribbean right now, if we were dealing with someone who had any brains. The only reason it’s not is because some dummy thinks he’s about ten times more clever than he is. It makes about as much sense for Sully to bury his daughter’s body on his own property as it does for Owen to keep highly incriminating evidence on his boat. It only starts making sense if you think of it as a frame-up.”

  “This is absurd, though,” Spinks said. “There’s no way they’re going to be able to make the charges on Owen stick. No way.”

  “I don’t know.” Loshak said. “Look at the Amanda Knox case. Very little evidence, but once those keystone cops decided she was the one they wanted to pin it on, they went for it.”

  He looked back over his shoulder at Chief Beethoven.

  “There’s a certain type of person who would rather die on their falsely constructed hill than admit they were wrong.”

  Darger wiped sweat from over her eye.

  “OK, so… now what?”

  Loshak’s lips disappeared as he pressed his mouth into a thin line.

  “Follow the clues that haven’t been or can’t be tampered with.” He scratched his chin. “We know there was probably a lot of blood when Micaela was killed from what the M.E. said. If we find the crime scene…”