Permanent Sunset

by C. Michele Dorsey

  Sabrina drove out to Villa Nirvana, through the open, unattended gate, and out to the house. Two jeeps from St. John Car Rental were parked by the front stairs, which she suspected were Gavin’s and Paul’s. Sabrina drove over to the parking spots by the service entrance near the kitchen to park. She noticed the trash bags she’d filled the day before and placed by the cabana shower stalls had been picked up. All that was left to do after the aborted wedding reception and the mess left by the police was to dissemble the chairs and tables. She would change the linens on the unmade beds and then leave the villa to Paul and Gavin.

  She let herself into the kitchen, noticing there were new dirty plates in the sink. She didn’t mind if they were Paul’s, but couldn’t help being irked if they were Gavin’s. Sabrina placed the dishes in the dishwasher and went out to the great room to inspect what needed to be done.

  She found Gavin sitting on a couch, his tie loosened, his shoes slipped off.

  “Hello,” she said, passing through toward the pool area.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, clearly startled by Sabrina’s appearance.

  “My job. I’m cleaning up the new dirty dishes in the sink. I’m having liquor delivered at your ‘request.’ I’m stripping the beds of the people who are no longer staying here and remaking them. Shall I do yours and Lisa’s?” Sabrina asked, emphasizing Lisa’s name.

  “No, I’m moving up into the Master Suite. You can redo that one,” Gavin said.

  “Elena’s room? You’re moving into that?”

  “I am, and I don’t need any comments from someone who beat the system after killing her husband and can’t even run a housekeeping business right,” Gavin said.

  Sabrina didn’t even try to suppress her rage.

  “Don’t you dare talk to me like that. You are a rude, crude, narcissistic bore who just happened to be born into a life of privilege. You have a beautiful wife whom you abuse, three darling daughters you pay no attention to, and a loving, supportive extended family whom you have betrayed.” Sabrina realized she was yelling but didn’t care.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I am the glue that keeps this family business going. Do you think we would even be in this villa right now if it weren’t for me and my vision for the company? Do you think my father or Paul would ever have dreamed of building anything other than parking garages? Do you think my half brother has enough brains to think like that? Instead of being grateful, they all complain. The only one who got it—”

  “Was Elena,” Sabrina said. She turned on her heels and walked up to the pool area and began dismantling the tables, which she stacked where they could be easily removed—on their sides, leaning against a stone pillar nearest the cabana at the edge of the pool. She collapsed the folding chairs, resting them against the tables. Then she rolled all the containers of gardenias, which were on wheels, into one area, next to the tables and chairs. She had created a minifortress of wedding props. It felt good to do physical work after her outburst. All the bits and pieces she’d learned about Elena’s life and death, the dynamics of the Keating family, and even the politics of the police department churned in her head like a washing machine on the spin cycle.

  “I’m sorry. He had no business talking to you like that.” Paul Blanchard stood next to the pool dressed in slacks and a polo shirt.

  “You heard?” Sabrina was more worried about what she had said that might be more insulting to Paul than anything Gavin had said to her.

  “Jack and I won’t always be around to make things right. I worry about what will happen to this family then,” Paul said, but Sabrina didn’t think he was really talking to her. She heard footsteps and hoped it was Henry bringing the booze. But no, it was Gavin in his swim trunks, arriving to enjoy the pool. He had a copy of Men’s Health in one hand and eye goggles in the other.

  “You can make up the room while I’m at the pool. Where are the towels?” Gavin asked.

  Sabrina walked over to the cabana to the left of the pool and opened the door where a stack of fluffy blue-and-white-striped towels sat neatly folded on a shelf.

  “Here,” she said, walking away and letting him fetch his own towel. If she knew how, she would short-sheet his bed.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  “It’s an amazing story, Lee, but I don’t know that it has anything to do with who killed Elena,” Neil said. He had shared all the information he’d learned from Carmen Perez Pagan and from the official records kept in San Juan.

  Neil told Janquar where Carmen was staying in case he wanted to interview her himself.

  “I probably will, but I think we’d better sort out this necklace thing first. Why would the bride be wearing a diamond necklace Lisa Keating expected to receive from her husband that then, according to your client, ends up in the pocket of Heather Malzone’s dress? One can draw a number of conclusions. But instead of speculating, let me just talk to these women. Remember, I’m only talking to them because the necklace ended up on one of the skinny-dippers’ photos. Otherwise, the issue would be investigated elsewhere,” Janquar declared, nodding his head sideways several times in the direction of Detective Hodge’s office.

  Lucy Detree opened the door and leaned into the room.

  “I’ve got Lisa Keating and Heather Malzone in the lobby. Heather arrived two seconds after Lisa, with her brother, Sean Keating, who says he insists on being present while Heather is interviewed. Lisa Keating says she’s not talking unless she can come in with Heather and Sean.”

  “Sean’s your client, right?” Janquar asked Neil, who nodded yes.

  “Okay, he can come in, but if he gets mouthy, out he goes.”

  “Understood.”

  Neil stepped outside into the lobby to explain to Sean why he was at the police station and the parameters of Sean’s presence during the interview.

  “I’m cleared to officially represent you, Sean. I can’t represent Heather, but if I think something is going wrong, I’ll give you a signal so she can stop the interview and get her own lawyer,” Neil instructed.

  Inside the interview room, Neil and Sean sat to one side of the table, while Lisa and Heather sat in the middle.

  “Where’s that other detective?” Lisa asked.

  “He’s busy interviewing other people. Would you feel more comfortable waiting for him, Mrs. Keating?” Janquar asked.

  “God, no. He makes me so nervous, I tried getting my husband to have the lawyers the company sent down come with me. But Gavin said that wouldn’t be appropriate because I’m not part of the company.” Lisa’s jaw tightened.

  “Folks, we have a photo I want to show you and then I’d like to ask a couple of questions. If you are uncomfortable at any time and want to engage an attorney, just tell me and I’ll stop. Remember, the goal here is for us to find out who killed Elena, not to trick you,” Janquar started.

  Lucy Detree pulled the stack of photos out of the pile again, thumbing through them until she found one, which she placed on the table between Heather and Lisa.

  “My god, that’s my necklace Elena’s wearing. How did she get it?” Lisa gasped.

  “Do you recognize the necklace, Ms. Malzone?” Sergeant Detree asked.

  “Actually, it’s Dr. Malzone,” Sean interjected, sitting back after getting one of Neil’s “shut your mouth” glances.

  Heather sat silently looking at the photo, and then over at Sean.

  “Ms. Salter claims she found the necklace in your dress pocket when she was doing the laundry and that you denied it was yours,” Detective Janquar said to Heather.

  “You had my necklace? What’s with that, Heather?” Lisa cried.

  “It wasn’t yours, Lisa.” Heather’s voice was barely audible.

  “What do you mean it wasn’t my necklace? I saw it in Gavin’s bag.” Lisa still wasn’t getting what Neil knew might be too painful for her to admit.

  “He gave it to her,” Heather said. “To Elena.”

  “Why would he do that?” Sean
asked. Neil knew Sean’s IQ was fairly high. He marveled at how oblivious people in love can be.

  Lisa sat very still for a few moments. Neil could see her fighting to control her emotions. Her lower lip trembled as she blinked back tears in her eyes.

  “And how did you come into possession of it, Dr. Malzone?” Janquar asked gently. Neil knew Janquar expected he might be on the verge of a confession.

  Neil looked over at Sean, who seemed oblivious to the implications of what both Lisa and Heather had said. Neil placed his foot on Sean’s and pressed down gently.

  “Heather, you might want an attorney before you answer that,” Sean said.

  “If you killed her, I’m glad,” Lisa said. “You should have killed him too, the son of a bitch.”

  Before Heather could respond about whether she wanted to get an attorney before answering any further questions, there was a knock on the door.

  Officer Milan opened the door and handed a few sheets of paper to Detective Janquar. “A fax just came in from the Medical Examiner’s office, sir. Detective Hodge is at lunch, so I thought you might want to take a look.”

  Janquar scanned the pages up and down and then handed them to Sergeant Detree who did the same. The silence hung in the room like a thundercloud just waiting to burst.

  “Dr. Malzone and Mrs. Keating, could I ask you to please step out into the lobby? Obviously, you can’t leave, but if you want to make a call, Officer Milan can assist you,” Detective Janquar offered.

  Heather and Lisa followed Officer Milan out of the room. Detective Janquar signaled that Neil and Sean should move into their seats.

  “I know you and Elena didn’t actually marry, but you were very close to it, and I am sorry for your loss, Mr. Keating.” Janquar looked directly at Sean and spoke in soft voice.

  “Thank you,” Sean said. He bowed his head. Neil thought Sean might cry again.

  “We try very hard to be sensitive to the families of murder victims. We respect that you probably want to know what happened to your loved one, although how much detail a family member actually wants to hear varies. I’ve been handed the results of the autopsy on Elena. How much detail do you want me to share?” Detective Janquar asked.

  “Think before you answer, Sean.” Neil had seen too many clients say they wanted to know everything and then pass out when they heard about how deep a knife had penetrated their loved one’s liver.

  “Give it all to me. Please,” Sean said. Neil wasn’t surprised.

  “Well, as you probably know, Elena was a very healthy young woman. She died of strangulation, which means she did not drown. She was dead when she entered the water. We recovered her lace train or veil, which had caught on some coral. We think it was used to strangle her,” Janquar said, taking a breath.

  So far, not so awful, Neil thought.

  “There’s more, Mr. Keating. The medical examiner wasn’t sure if Elena had been raped prior to her death or whether she might have engaged in some, shall we say, ‘rough’ intercourse before her strangulation . . .”

  “What? No, no. NO,” Sean’s voice rose and he got up from his chair, running to the door and out of the room. By the time Neil got to the lobby, the front door was open and all he could see was the back side of Sean Keating racing down the sidewalk with Heather and Lisa staring after him.

  Chapter Forty

  Sabrina had put fresh linens on all the beds just to give herself the peace of mind that she was, in fact, a competent villa keeper, regardless of Gavin’s unfounded barbs. Now she was in the lower level of Villa Nirvana, where there was absolute quiet as she washed, dried, and folded the sheets and towels she had removed from upstairs. If anyone had ever told her while she was a television meteorologist in Boston that she would find almost as much pleasure in placing order to linens as she had in forecasting blizzards and thunderstorms, she would have called them crazy. But with all that had happened in her life, Sabrina found soothing comfort in repetitive tasks, especially tactile ones. She could smell the fragrance of the lavender detergent. She could feel the softness of the sheets, the warmth of the towels as they came out of the dryer. She could lose herself in contemplation or be almost without thought. Today, she tried to muddle through the case, and its seemingly random collection of facts, to make some sense out of it all. But she was distracted.

  Sabrina felt bad that she’d lost her cool with Gavin. Not reacting to someone like him was far better than giving him the satisfaction of knowing he had managed to reach her. “I will permit no man to narrow and degrade my soul by making me hate him,” had always been one of her favorite Booker T. Washington quotes. Sabrina thought she had come very close to letting Gavin degrade her soul today.

  The last load of linens was in the dryer. The liquor had been delivered and the bar restocked. She had only the dishwasher to empty and the three shower stalls in the cabana to rinse sand from and then Sabrina was done for the day. Maybe she would let Neil take her out to Zeus for dinner tonight. Or maybe she would cook for him on his boat.

  She thought she heard the dryer buzz, and then realized it was her cell phone. It was Neil. Had he also been thinking of her?

  “Hi there,” she said, feeling warm and flirty.

  “Salty, I’m just giving you a head’s up. The shit has hit the fan.”

  “What do you mean?” Sabrina could hear the panic in Neil’s voice.

  “Well, Lisa knows Elena wore the necklace she thought Gavin was going to give to her. Heather’s still not admitting she had the necklace. That was bad enough. Then the autopsy results come in and Sean goes ballistic when he hears Elena was either raped or had rough sex before she died,” Neil said.

  “Oh no,” Sabrina said. “Where is he?”

  “That’s why I’m calling. He ran out of the police station and took off. I wondered if he came out there.”

  Sabrina explained that she was in the lower level of Villa Nirvana and didn’t know if anyone else had come, but that Gavin and Paul were there.

  “Neil, has Sean shared with you the nature of his physical relationship with Elena?” Sabrina knew she’d better clue Neil in, if he didn’t know.

  “Huh? No, why would he? What are you talking about, Salty? Do I know the details of their sex life?” She could hear the exasperation in his voice. He thought she was getting off track.

  “Because there weren’t any. They hadn’t had sex. Elena was making them wait until after they were officially married,” Sabrina said.

  “So . . . oh damn, I get it. I’d better get Janquar and get out there. That’s where he’s likely to go, isn’t he?” Neil asked.

  “That would be my guess. I’ll hold down the fort until you get here.”

  “No heroics, Salty. I can save you from the cops, but not from yourself.”

  Sabrina thought she heard him mumble, “Love you,” as he hung up.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Sabrina clutched the pile of beach towels to her chest as she climbed the short exterior staircase to the ground level. She thought she heard shouting, so she decided to enter the cabana from the exterior of the house rather than around the pool from inside.

  The cabana was a cleverly designed building almost the size of her cottage with an entrance from the parking area where beach goers could enter and use one of the three showers to rinse off sand. Pool goers had easy access from poolside. There were shelves with towels, pool toys, coolers, and snorkel gear. Beach chairs hung on hooks on the wall.

  Sabrina climbed the three steps up to the cabana and opened the door. She heard loud voices coming from the area of the pool but couldn’t hear what they were saying through the closed door on the poolside. She stepped into the cabana and placed the towels on a shelf. The yelling was getting louder but was still muffled. She cracked the door to the cabana and caught the words “killed” and “fool,” but the others were garbled.

  She remembered Neil cautioning her just minutes ago on the telephone. Bursting in on a family argument probably wasn’t smart and
was certainly beyond any role she had as villa manager. She was considering just hopping in her jeep when she heard what she thought was a gunshot.

  The only other time Sabrina had ever heard a live gunshot not on television or at the movies was when she had fired the gun. In the dark. At her own husband. She felt paralyzed by fear and by the memory. Now she knew she really should run and get in her jeep and take off. Of course she should, but her keys were in her backpack in the first-floor kitchen instead of on her belt because she was wearing a damn dress today.

  There was no lock to the cabana door from inside, so she couldn’t secure herself and wait for Neil to come. Maybe it wasn’t a gunshot. Maybe it had only been a car backfiring and her imagination was running away from her because she had also heard loud voices.

  Sabrina opened the door to the cabana just enough to see Paul Blanchard standing at the edge of the pool holding a gun in his hand, pointing it at Sean Keating, who was crouched by the side of the pool. In one hand, Sean was clutching the hair of Gavin Keating, who was in the deep end of the pool. In the other hand, Sean held a string of the faerie lights Sabrina had just taken down, wrapped around Gavin’s neck.

  “Sean, let him go or I swear the next shot won’t be in the air. It will be at you. For the love of God, don’t be stupid,” Paul screamed.

  “I can’t decide if he should drown or be strangled. You didn’t give Elena that choice, did you, you son of a bitch,” Sean said. He pushed Gavin’s head down under the water, while he tugged on the cord at the same time.

  Sabrina watched in horror. Sean sounded as crazy as she imagined he felt. His entire sense of reality had been shattered in just days. She wasn’t surprised to find him over the edge.