“This really does sound more like suicide. Did anyone look for a note?” Neil asked.
Jack, Kate, and Sean all looked at one another like they’d been poked with a cattle prod.
“Neil, we haven’t been allowed to do anything other than sit at this table. The cops barely let me get into dry clothes. They’re treating the Keatings like they’re criminals rather than a family who has just suffered a tragedy,” Sabrina said.
Neil had been so focused on talking to Sabrina and the Keating family that he hadn’t noticed everyone had left the other tables, including the waitstaff from Ten Villas, with the exception of two men sitting several tables away.
“Who are those two guys?” Neil asked.
“My other son, Gavin, and the company CFO, Paul Blanchard,” Jack said.
“Have the cops come over and told you not to discuss the case with anyone?” Neil asked.
Everyone shook their heads.
“Good. Let’s chat a little before they’re on to us.”
Chapter Eleven
Sabrina’s heart warmed at the huskiness in Neil’s voice inviting all of them to have a chat. She was grateful for his presence and willingness to become involved, regardless of what happened to their personal relationship. He could be maddening, but there was something comforting about Neil. He had a sense of confidence that suggested he would get to the bottom of whatever it was. No big deal. We’ll get it fixed. Sabrina was more worried about her business’s reputation than being the person who found the body, but she still didn’t like being this close to another investigation. She hoped there would be a resolution long before anyone in the press connected Elena’s death to her name.
She knew it would always be like this. She carried her own story like a string of tin cans tied to a car bumper after a wedding. She hadn’t meant to kill Ben when she’d fled to their Nantucket vacation home after learning he was cheating on her. How was she to know he’d pick the same night—in the middle of the freakin’ winter, no less—to bring his bimbo to their summer home? She’d thought there was a burglar in the house when she heard those noises and used Ben’s own gun to fend off an intruder.
Except it wasn’t an intruder. It had been her husband, and Sabrina had been tried for first-degree murder. Though acquitted, she lost everything she had scrambled so hard to earn. Her job as a Boston television meteorologist, her home on Beacon Hill, and most importantly, her privacy. Tabloid television featured her case every night for nearly two years.
Crime fighter and INN (In News Network) television host Faith Chase had tried to reignite the case against Sabrina a few months before when a villa guest had been murdered and Sabrina had discovered the body. She’d enlisted Neil’s help with that case and hoped that if they were as successful working together on this one, she and Ten Villas would escape unscathed from this event. Sabrina knew she was stuffing her personal feelings for Neil down deep inside her, a survivor’s skill she had learned as a child when she constantly had to explain the absence of her mother and had to live with the unpredictability that life with an alcoholic father brought. When you are always living on the edge, emotions become a luxury you can’t indulge.
“Listen, folks, I’m happy to help you out here as much as I can, but you know I don’t practice law anymore. I can maybe help you sort through some of this and then make a couple of calls to local counsel if you think you want or need representation. Do you mind if I ask a few questions?”
When no one objected, Neil jumped right in.
“When is the last time each of you saw Elena alive? Sean, you go first.”
“Last night when I went to her room to ask her one more time if she wouldn’t just sign the prenup to keep my family happy. I told her I would never enforce it. She threw me out of the room,” Sean said, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe he had pushed the issue so far. “That’s when I drove over to Bar None to see if you were there, Neil. It had to be after eleven thirty.”
“How about the rest of you?” Neil opened it up to the group.
“When she stormed out of the great room and went up into her room, I followed and tried reasoning with her once more. But she wouldn’t open her door, so I talked through it and just asked her to think about the big picture. I mean, it isn’t as if anyone thought the marriage would fail. It was just a precaution. I told her I had signed one,” Kate said.
“Same here, but when I knocked on her door and she told me to go away, I did. Don’t get me wrong, I liked Elena, but she wasn’t warm and fuzzy like Lisa. She was a businesswoman, and I was done arguing with her. I came back down and Kate and I hit the sack,” Jack said.
Sabrina was surprised to find she felt sorrier for the Keatings than for Elena. It sounded like they were blindsided by Elena’s last-minute hysteria over signing the prenup. She made a note to ask Neil more about prenups once they had an opportunity to talk alone.
“I didn’t see her after she left the great room. I wasn’t about to try and persuade her to sign something she was so obviously opposed to. Isn’t that like duress?” Heather asked Neil.
“Well, it can be. Prenups are contracts, but they have some added requirements and protections because they’re between people who have a personal relationship with one another. It’s not an arm’s length transaction, like it is when you have a business contract. How about you, Henry? When did you last see Elena?”
Sabrina knew Henry wasn’t happy with this question, as it was a source of discord between the two of them. They would eventually need to sort through the issues the eleventh villa had brought to their business relationship and friendship, but first things first.
“A little after eleven. Just before we left the villa. I felt bad for her. I mean, here she is on the night before her wedding and everyone keeps pushing a bunch of papers under her nose to sign. I went to her room. She had her dress on, with the train wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl. Her shoes were like the glass slippers out of Cinderella. She was obviously sad.”
Sean let out a groan and put his head on his folded arms on the table.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sabrina saw Detective Hodge approaching. The tall, slender man strutted with confidence toward the table.
“Mr. Perry, Sergeant Detree tells me you’re here to see a client. Might I ask when you got a license to practice law in the Virgin Islands, sir?”
Neil stood and rose, meeting Hodge eye to eye.
“Detective Hodge, good to see you again. You’re certainly a busy man these days,” Neil said, extending his hand. Hodge looked at it, then shook it quickly.
“About my question, sir.”
“I represented Mr. Keating, Sean Keating that is, when I practiced in LA. I’m only here until we can find him local counsel,” Neil said. Sabrina could feel Neil’s discomfort. She felt uneasy, too. Why was this cop worried about an attorney being present at the request of a man whose bride had just drowned? Who cares where Neil was licensed? They weren’t in court.
“Mr. Perry, you don’t need me to lecture you about the danger of practicing law without a license, do you? It’s one thing for you to be a Good Samaritan and bring the widow of a car accident victim to the clinic last night, but you will not be tolerated stepping over the line into areas reserved for professional law enforcement.”
“Detective Janquar didn’t have any problems when Neil helped with the Carter Johnson case,” Sabrina couldn’t resist pointing out the obvious discrepancy. Car accident. Victim. Widow. Wait a minute, Sabrina realized, an awful lot had happened on St. John in the last twenty-four hours.
“Wait. Who died in a car accident?” she asked, afraid of the answer. In the short time she’d lived on the island, Sabrina had come to know and care about many of its residents.
“Larry Thomas. He took the curve at Bordeaux too hard,” Neil said.
Sabrina had just about had it. Screw this villa. The hell with its suicidal bride. Poor Larry Thomas, who flew sea planes just about every day of his life, die
d because he didn’t navigate a curve right? And what was wrong with her, immediately indicting Neil as a cheater when he was only acting as a friend to a woman whose husband had just died?
“Look, if you want to question me, do it now. Otherwise, I’m leaving. I’m happy to talk to you or Sergeant Detree, but I have a caterer and music to cancel, and accommodations to find for these people, Detective,” Sabrina said, standing up to face Hodge.
“Actually, Ms. Salter, you all need to leave. The EMTs have suggested that there are signs Ms. Rodriguez’s death may not have been accidental or a suicide. Of course, we won’t know for certain until the medical examiner does an autopsy over on St. Thomas. We have the dive and scene-of-the-crime teams on their way. None of you are permitted to leave the island, except you, Mr. Perry, because you have nothing to do with this case. Please leave your telephone numbers with Sergeant Detree and let the station know where you’ll be staying once arrangements are made. Several of the safari taxi drivers who apparently were meant to take people on tours are waiting to take you where you need to go. No one is permitted to take anything,” Vernon Hodge said in a voice devoid of any emotion except, Sabrina detected, a note of condescension.
“Are you saying Elena may have been murdered?” Sean lurched out of his chair, tipping it over.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, and why we’ll be wanting to talk to you, your family, and the villa rental staff a whole lot more.” Hodge crossed his muscular arms over his chest, clearly a signal for Sean to come no closer. Sabrina was relieved to see Neil place a hand on Sean’s shoulder, knowing any confrontation with the police would only complicate matters. She remembered seeing marks on Elena’s throat when Kate was checking for a pulse and was afraid she knew where this was heading.
“Let’s head to the taxis, folks, so we can find you new accommodations.” Sabrina gestured for the Keating entourage to follow her, but none of them moved.
“That’s ridiculous. Who would want to kill Elena?” Kate sat shaking her head, leaning into Jack, who was seated next to her.
“That’s what we’re going to find out, ma’am.” Hodge’s thin lips curled at the corners of his mouth into the hint of a smile.
“Please walk out to the taxis now. Oh, and Ms. Salter. Don’t worry about canceling the caterer. My people will be working here all night and will naturally need some fortification.”
Chapter Twelve
Within three minutes, they were all herded into two taxis. Henry and Gavin got into one, which would drop them at the Ten Villas van parked on Gifft Hill outside of Henry’s condo. Henry would then drive Gavin to the Westin, where he could be reunited with Lisa and his daughters at his mother’s unit.
Sabrina was pleased at how quickly she and Henry had been able to pull a plan of sorts together. They’d worked together so well when establishing Ten Villas that Sabrina had been surprised by their conflict over whether to add Villa Nirvana to their roster. Now she felt they were back in sync again and could manage this crisis unified.
She and the remainder of the Keating family plus the company CFO were now headed in the second taxi to Ten Villas’ only vacant house. Villa Bella Vista was located high atop Bordeaux Mountain, the highest point on St. John. Deep in the rainforest, Bordeaux had a mystical feel to it. Driving under the heavy shelter of locust, hog plum, and yellow prickle trees, climbing nearly to the peak to arrive at Bella Vista, Sabrina always felt as if she had entered the world of the fairy tales of her youth. Surely, this was the land of Hansel and Gretel.
The Keating clan sat in silence as Sabrina made phone calls along the way. Zeus restaurant would deliver some of the food to Villa Nirvana to keep Detective Hodge and his crew happy, but the remainder would be brought to Bella Vista, where she and Henry could at least feed the miserable Keatings. Henry would join her after dropping off ghastly Gavin, as Sabrina was beginning to think of him. He would also grab the lost-and-found pile and bring it along for the family.
Sabrina had been ready to chuck the pile of clothing and other items guests had left behind and didn’t want to pay to have shipped back to them, but Henry’s experience with the airlines paid off again. “Are you kidding me? Do you know how often we’ll have guests arrive who will have had the airlines lose their luggage? They’ll be thrilled with a few togs to see them through until their bags have been located or they can go shopping.”
Pulling into the shaded circular driveway, Sabrina was surprised to hear the sound of splashing. The villa was supposed to be vacant. She knew it had been cleaned the day before after a party of eight returned home to Toronto, so there shouldn’t be any Ten Villa staff present. Besides, she’d put everyone on duty at the wedding extravaganza.
While the Keatings disembarked from the taxi, Sabrina strode up the walkway, which was bordered on each side by shaded gardens, took her keys off her belt, and opened the door to the large great room with its cathedral ceiling. She continued to walk through toward the French doors at the rear of the room that led to the pool overlooking the British Virgin Islands. The majestic view was so incredible that she had often thought it unreal.
But the view she was treated to at that moment wasn’t quite as majestic, nor was it unreal—two plentiful, bare white asses bounding out of the pool, heading through the gate and onto a path, which eventually led back to the road.
“What the hell was that?” Sean asked, coming up behind Sabrina.
“Oh dear lord,” Kate said.
“I told you we should have kept our business on the mainland, Jack” Paul Blanchard sounded tired and grouchy.
“For once, I feel shapely,” Heather said, chuckling.
Sabrina didn’t bother trying to chase the duo, one female and the other clearly male from the sight of his bouncing parts, even from the rear. Why did this lunacy have to happen today? But maybe some comic relief was just what was needed.
“Meet the skinny-dippers, folks. They check out the villa rental schedules online to see which are occupied and hit the pools where no one is staying and skinny-dip, or as some have said, ‘chunky-dunk.’ No one knows who they are and it’s driving everyone crazy. I’ll bet they left their signature,” Sabrina said, coming closer to the pool and pointing to a floating red hibiscus.
Normally, this would be when Sabrina would show guests around the home and help them with their luggage. But there was no protocol for what to do when guests were displaced from a villa where a murder had occurred. She had no food to offer, but she was sure there was a stash of alcohol in the bar left over from the previous guests. There always was. You just never knew what it would consist of. Definitely time to offer drinks, although it could hardly be called “happy hour.”
“Can I offer everyone a drink while we wait for the food to arrive?”
No one declined, so Sabrina played bartender, fixing the drinks with what she had on hand. She was delighted to find decent scotch and vodka along with the usual vacationer’s choices: banana rum, guavaberry vodka, and anything Kenny Chesney had ever been reported to sip while on island.
“Please join us, Sabrina,” Kate said.
“Of course. You’ve had a difficult day too, dear,” Jack said.
Sabrina poured herself a stiff vodka on the rocks, not missing the lemon slice she normally insisted on. Sabrina had never sat in the late afternoon sun in the great room of Bella Vista. She rarely sat in any of the Ten Villas, always preoccupied with details related to their guests’ arrivals and departures. Now she could appreciate the design of the house, the subtlety of the deep-mahogany-trimmed walls coupled with couches and chairs covered with contrasting shades of green plant prints that gave the impression you were sitting in the cool of a garden, even as the last of the tropical sun beat down through the skylights. Sitting in a chair opposite Paul Blanchard, she realized they hadn’t been formally introduced.
“Mr. Blanchard, I know this is a little late, but I’m Sabrina Salter. We were never actually introduced. I only met the family.”
�
�Oh, but I am family. Jack and I are first cousins,” Paul said, after taking a slug of Scotch half the size of the tumbler.
“Our mothers were sisters,” Jack said, sounding like the drink was doing its magic.
This, Sabrina realized, was an opportunity for her to learn more about the Keating family and, more importantly, Elena. If it were true that Elena had been murdered, it would mean Sabrina had the misfortune of finding two homicide victims within several months, which not only would be bad for business but also might make her a target in the media. She needed to learn more about the people in Elena’s life so she could fit the pieces together and figure out how and why she was killed. She had learned from her experience when Carter Johnson was murdered that tiny pieces of information join together to form a mosaic that would eventually lead to the killer.
The sun was fading and would soon begin to set, which would probably remind Sean about the wedding that should be taking place. Sabrina needed to engage the family in conversation quickly before he became emotional again. Neil was so slick at getting information out of people that they never realized they were divulging what they thought were their well-kept secrets. Henry was a little less adroit, but his directness had a charm of its own. Sabrina didn’t think she had the social skills to seduce information from these people, who had far more poise than she could ever hope for. But she plunged in any way.
“Sean, I really haven’t had a chance to say how sorry I am about what happened to Elena. This must be awful for you. I only met her a few times, so I don’t really know what she was like,” Sabrina said, feeling guilty for her disingenuousness. She could see Kate glancing at Sean to monitor his reaction. Sometimes it helped people to talk about lost ones.
“Smartest woman I ever met. But she’s the one who taught me that brains are not enough. You have to have vision, too. That’s what I needed help with. Hell, before her, I was just trying to find prime locations where Keating Construction could build parking garages with as many spaces as could fit. They had about as much charm as stacked plastic ice cube trays. Elena asked tough questions. Did I want parking garages to be my legacy? I never even thought about having a legacy until her.”
Permanent Sunset Page 5
