Advance Praise for
The
Empty
Chair
Not even the sultry Caribbean sun can burn off the dark clouds that seem to follow Olivia Benning. Returning to an island home to settle affairs, she has no information about her mother’s sudden and suspicious death, no resources and little money, she’s alone and unsure who to trust.
Penny Goetjen uses the idyllic setting and island culture so effectively, the reader is tempted to savor ocean views from The Empty Chair, but don’t pause too long—danger is never far away.
—Kathryn Orzech,
Author of Premonition of Terror, a paranormal thriller,
and Asylum, a dark suspense saga.
P E N N Y G O E T J E N
The
Empty
Chair
M U R D E R I N T H E C A R I B B E A N
The Empty Chair—Murder in the Caribbean
Copyright © 2017 by Penny Goetjen. All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise – without prior written permission from the publisher, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
For information about this title or to order other books and/or electronic media, contact the publisher:
Secret Harbor Press, LLC
www.SecretHarborPress.com
[email protected]
Library of Congress Control Number: 2016908748
ISBN: 978-0-9976235-0-5
Printed in the United States of America
Goetjen, Penny, author.
The empty chair : murder in the Caribbean / Penny
Goetjen.
pages cm
LCCN 2016908748
ISBN 978-0-9976235-0-5 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-9976235-1-2 (e-book)
ISBN 978-0-9976235-2-9 (audio bk.)
1. Murder--United States Virgin Islands--Saint Thomas
(Island)--Fiction. 2. Saint Thomas (United States
Virgin Islands : Island)--Fiction. 3. Detective and
mystery fiction. I. Title.
PS3607.O3355E47 2016 813’.6
QBI16-1116
To Kurt, Austin & Kelsey,
I feel so blessed to be your mother.
Thank you for all the precious memories we
created during our family trips to St. Thomas.
Love you always.
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
Her father had purchased her airline ticket so she could make the trip to St. Thomas one last time. Olivia surmised he was relieved she had volunteered to go, to take care of settling her mother’s affairs. She imagined that meant putting the property up for sale, paying off the outstanding bills, and gathering any personal effects she couldn’t part with that reminded her of happier times she had spent on the island with her mother.
It was a long, sad flight from Boston’s Logan Airport to Puerto Rico. She had just enough time to change planes for the short twenty-minute jaunt from San Juan to St. Thomas in a small, regional jet with a narrow aisle between sixteen rows—two seats on one side and one on the other. There was barely enough room to stand up. It made her a bit nervous as she watched the flight attendants shifting some of the passengers from one side of the plane to the other to distribute the weight evenly. The flight didn’t last long enough for them to push a beverage trolley down the aisle. They were there for safety reasons only.
On final approach to Cyril E. King Airport on the southwest end of the island, the plane came in low over the water. It seemed as though they were skimming the surface, which turned gradually from a deep blue to a beautiful, serene turquoise. Olivia breathed in deeply. She could imagine the warmth of the salty sea air.
Before long, the plane taxied to the gate of the tiny airport. After waiting patiently for her fellow passengers to gather their belongings from the overhead bins, Olivia found herself lingering at the top of the stairs in the doorway of the small jet to let the tropical breeze caress her face, her camera bag slung across her body and resting on her hip. It was late afternoon, but the August sun was still surprisingly strong. The hot, humid air was beyond steamy. It was sultry. Looking out across the only runway at the airport to the University of the Virgin Islands sitting up on the hill, it was all pleasantly familiar to her.
Sensing movement behind her, Olivia realized other passengers, anxious to start their vacations, had a greater sense of urgency than her own. Reluctantly she descended the metal rollaway stairs and followed the line of passengers that had already deplaned, heading across the hot cement tarmac toward the modest terminal. She felt her feet dragging as she tried to delay the inevitable.
It had been several days since they received the devastating news, and Olivia still struggled to grasp the concept. Liv Benning had only been in her early forties, infinitely energetic and larger than life itself. Olivia loved being with her, visiting her on the island. They shared a special bond, one she sensed her father was jealous of. Her mother made her feel as though she could accomplish anything. Following in her mother’s footsteps, she discovered her love of photography during visits to St. Thomas.
An open doorway lay ahead of her. She could see a plump, middle-aged woman with beautiful dark skin standing just inside the entrance holding a tray with small, white plastic cups. A representative from the local rum distillery with welcome shots. Olivia smiled. “Afternoon, thank you, no,” she said and continued to make her way to baggage claim.
Olivia walked past a small group of people standing on the right side of the corridor open to the outside holding signs with last names on them. Quickly glancing through the signs, she didn’t see “Benning” so she kept going. She thought her father had given her flight logistics to an acquaintance on the island. Hopefully she would meet up with him.
She passed a duty-free liquor store, restrooms, and a small bar on the left on her way to retrieve her suitcase. The baggage claim area had the feel of a warehouse with its high ceiling and rudimentary furnishings. It was hot and noisy with all the
passengers milling about, waiting for the conveyor belt to start moving. Open slats at the top of the walls on the runway side made it sound like the planes were tearing through the terminal when they took off. Since there were only two carousels, it wasn’t hard to figure out which one she needed to stand near. A painted wooden sign hanging from the ceiling listed which carousel each airline used. Olivia stood a few feet away from the second one, about midway on the loop.
Across from baggage claim were booths for a couple of rental car agencies, a time share company, an island tour company, a couple of empty spaces, and an office for those unfortunate passengers whose luggage hadn’t caught up to them.
Taxi drivers passed through the crowd calling out to secure their next passengers, competing with each other while trying to fill their vehicles. Skycaps pushed empty carts, offering assistance to anyone who would listen, silently condemning all the rollaway bags that took business away from them.
Bursts of laughter from the open side of the terminal where pick-ups and drop-offs occurred caught Olivia’s attention. In the Caribbean, nearly everything was open to the outside. It was hot and humid. Olivia breathed it in. She loved the vibe. She loved the island.
Furtively, Olivia glanced around as she waited for her suitcase, looking for someone she had never met, wondering if she would be able to connect with him. Although she knew there were other transportation options, they would eat into the paltry amount of cash she had scraped together to make the trip. Her father had sprung for the plane ticket, and she didn’t want to reveal to him her financial status was anything other than secure. She would make do with what she had. There was no choice.
A loud screech announced the conveyor belt’s movement, stirring the bystanders to life. One by one, suitcases of varying sizes traveled along the predetermined path. Randomly along the way, hands reached out to grab handles and yank the attached bags off the belt. Olivia was nearly hypnotized by a sea of black bags bobbing along in front of her but was amused by the occasional suitcase that expressed more personality.
A small pink rollaway with large white polka dots brought a smile to her face. After it passed, she heard a small voice squeal and she turned to watch a man, who she imagined was a father, retrieve it and hand it to a young girl with tight blonde curls on her head. As the child grasped the handle with two small hands, she seemed tickled the bag had made the journey successfully. Her tiny feet were barely able to stay planted on the floor, dancing on tiptoes around her pink and white polka dots.
Olivia continued to survey the passing bags. Colorful ribbons tied to handles distinguished some bags from others. Tattered boxes contained unknown contents. Long rectangular hard-sided containers suggested golf clubs were inside. A lone child car seat passed in front of her, lying on its back. It was eerily empty as it crossed her line of sight.
Several minutes ticked by before a familiar tattered rolling suitcase could be seen making its way along the dusty and faded black snake. The crowd standing around waiting for baggage had thinned to a small handful of tired travelers. As the bag got closer, she managed a chuckle. Too exhausted from a long day of traveling to be embarrassed, she reached down and grabbed it by the broken handle held together with duct tape. It certainly had seen its fair share of travel and had been tossed around by less-than-careful baggage handlers.
With her pitifully well-worn bag at her side, Olivia tried to stand taller than her five-foot-two slender frame and look more confident than she felt. Considering her options for transportation, she nervously grabbed a piece of wavy blonde hair that fell just past her shoulders and pushed it behind one ear. She was startled momentarily by the engine roar of a plane taking off. Then, from behind her, came a voice.
“You need a lift somewhere?”
Drawing in a short breath, she turned to look up into the gentle eyes of a man who looked to be in his late twenties, perhaps early thirties, slightly older and several inches taller than her. She quickly became lost in a sea of blue. Once she pulled back from her narrow focus, she noticed he had subtle laugh lines framing his eyes and dark blond, shoulder length hair with blonder highlights she imagined had been tousled from a ride in some sort of an open-air vehicle that was a common mode of transportation on the island. Yet he looked as though he had stepped off one of the planes that just arrived. He was dressed casually, a loose fitting, light cotton, long-sleeved shirt buttoned down the front with rolled-up sleeves and a squared-off tail that was not tucked in, long dark shorts, and brown leather flip-flops. He was holding a small duffle to one side, a guitar case on the other.
Her first impression was he was harmless and had good intentions. She was pleased by his sweet gesture.
Her father’s voice interrupted her thoughts. It was as if he had abruptly stepped in front of Olivia to protect her from this stranger who undoubtedly meant her harm. One corner of her mouth turned up slightly at how protective he was. Certainly one to take risks, although they were more or less calculated, he had different standards for his daughter taking them. It was more a matter of control for him. Olivia, to her father’s dismay, was a lot like her mother, particularly with respect to listening to him. And the older Olivia got, the less influence her father had over her.
Olivia broadened her smile toward the kind gentleman. Her knight in shining armor. She didn’t seem to have any other options.
He smiled back.
“I’m Colton.”
Switching the duffle to his left hand that was already holding the guitar, he extended his right hand. They shook briefly. His grip was firm but gentle. His hand was soft and warm. A strange but pleasant sensation coursed through her. She may have held on longer than necessary.
“A friend of mine is picking me up. I’m sure he won’t mind giving you a ride, too. The island’s not that big. Here, let me get that for you.” He reached down to grab her bag, but she protested, putting her hand out.
“Oh, no. That’s okay. I’ve got it.” She spoke firmly, uncomfortable with him trying to pick up her personal possessions. Quickly reaching down and snatching the handle of her tattered suitcase, she took a step back, pulling her bag closer to her. She pushed away her sweet smile, replacing it with a stern expression.
He recoiled, examining her face for a moment. “No problem . . . no worries.” He looked slightly embarrassed. “Can I at least help you get where you need to go?” he tried again.
Olivia looked deeply into his eyes while searching inside herself for the right answer. She was tired and needed a ride but desperately didn’t want to make the wrong move. Though alone on a tropical island, albeit a territory of the United States, without any friends or contacts to rely on, she chose to go with her first instinct and accept a ride with him, or at least his friend, whom she hadn’t yet met. Taking one last look around, she concluded no one else was there to meet her.
“You’re very kind. Thank you for going out of your way for a stranger.”
The tanned, ruggedly handsome man with broad shoulders chuckled to himself. “Well, if you tell me your name, we won’t be such strangers.” There was a twinkle in his eye.
Olivia wanted to think she was usually pretty good at reading people, sensing their character. But she was getting mixed signals. With few other options, she had made a quick decision, one she hoped she wasn’t going to regret.
“It’s Olivia.”
“Well, Olivia, good to meet you.”
He used his free hand to push back loose strands of hair on both sides of his face. Intrigued by him, she sensed he was unlike anyone she had ever met before. There was a quiet confidence about him. Olivia found that quality rather attractive.
“Likewise,” was all she could come up with in response.
“Let’s head out front to see if we can track down my buddy.”
The roadway in front of the airport was congested with passenger cars and open-air safari taxis as well as more traditional cabs in the form of commercial vans, similar to what one would see in the States. They wer
e inching through the loop from the airport entrance, past the rental car lot, around to the passenger pick-up area, to the taxi stand and then back out to the airport exit.
Olivia and Colton made their way through the crowd, down the sidewalk with their luggage in tow until they passed the taxi stand. Leaning against a pillar along the edge of the roadway, a dark-skinned man played steel pan music on his shiny silver drums. Breathing in the vibe of the island, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Something about the rhythmic island sounds resonated within her.
Working his way over to the curb, Colton found a spot to stand. Olivia navigated around a couple who had stopped in the middle of the walkway and slipped into the space next to him, sneaking a glance to study his features. His face seemed kind, yet strong and determined. She wondered what he was really like.
Colton scanned up and down the vehicles alongside the curb and those moving slowly through the airport drive until finally his hand shot up to signal. An older, white pickup truck pulled over quickly and squeezed into a small opening along the curb, one that seemed too small to fit the tiniest of vehicles, yet the driver managed to fit his. Rusted dents punctuated the door and the side panel toward the rear of the truck. Colton stepped close to the driver’s window and they exchanged exuberant hellos. Their hands clasped with great energy. Leaning into the cab he had a few private words with his friend. The driver shook his head, nodded, and then looked directly at Olivia as if assessing what Colton was asking of him.
Becoming less optimistic she’d be getting a free ride, she again reviewed the options. She pushed away her father’s cautions echoing in her head.
Colton turned back to her and yelled over the din of the crowd, “Throw your bag in the back.” He put his duffle and guitar case gently in the bed of the pickup as if to guide her to do the same. He didn’t seem to want to offend her again by offering to put hers in for her. Olivia was grateful his friend was willing to give her a ride, but she didn’t like the idea of putting her suitcase in the back of a beat-up pickup truck. Then she realized it looked so pitiful it didn’t matter where she “threw it.” Following his lead, she picked up the tattered bag and tossed it over the side. Too tired to care, she and her suitcase needed a ride.
The Empty Chair ~ Murder in the Caribbean Page 1
