Olivia squirmed with his last comment but it seemed to have worked.
“Let me see what I can do.” He returned to the squad car, walked around to the back and opened the hatch. After rustling around for a couple minutes, he closed it and walked back to rejoin them. He was empty-handed.
“I’m going to have to go back to the station to get a fingerprinting kit. I thought I had one in my car, but I don’t.”
Olivia clenched her jaw and repressed a reaction to his announcement.
Colton continued in his role. “All right, but we can expect you to come right back. Correct?”
The young officer nodded, looking indignant at the question.
“Fine, we’ll wait right here for you.” He held his gaze for effect.
Biting her lip as the rookie cop retreated to his car and headed back up the hill, Olivia hated being the damsel in distress. She wished Colton would stop playing that card.
Without a word or a look between them, they returned to the gallery overlooking the bay. It was understood they would wait there until the young cop returned to do his job. Neither one shared if they expected him or any other police officer to return.
Time passed in silence. Colton settled into one of the chairs at the bistro table and Olivia was not far away, leaning with her elbows against the corner of the deck railing gazing toward the view without actually noticing it. The late afternoon Caribbean sun was strong, but the breezes off the water were quite soothing. Green parrots in the trees overhead squawked as if trying to alert them to their presence. It was remarkably peaceful, yet neither was tuned into their surroundings.
Finally Olivia broke the silence. “I just don’t understand what’s going on. Why doesn’t anyone know what happened to my mother? I don’t even know where to start.” Considering possibilities for a moment, she turned toward him with her eyes wide. “What if the officer is right and someone just borrowed her Jeep? Maybe she’s on some extended assignment and hasn’t been around for a while. I could see her loaning her car to a friend. That’s just the type of person she is.”
Colton looked into her eyes, showing her he was listening, allowing her to think out loud.
“But, of course, that begs the question, who called me to say my mother had died and why?”
“Is your mother comfortable around the water?”
Olivia was taken aback by his question. “Of course. She loved to go kayaking. Had her own kayak. It seems to be missing, though, just like her car was.”
Pausing to consider his question further, she refused to believe her mother’s fate had anything to do with her ability to swim or how comfortable she felt around the water.
“The assignment that brought her down to the islands involved going out on a boat and up in a helicopter. She was pretty excited about it. Her job was to capture the essence of St. Thomas from the land, sea, and air. The end result was a beautiful hardcover book that depicted St. Thomas in all its glory.” She stopped abruptly, realizing she was going off on a tangent, promoting her mother again.
“So she was comfortable swimming?”
Olivia found the question odd but continued. “She swam in college. Her events were the longer races, like the 500, the 1,000. I think even the 1,650, which is the mile. She’s a pretty tough lady. Self-sufficient. Independent. Resourceful. Probably too much so, for my father’s liking.” She stopped again when she realized she had shared too much and he didn’t need to know what her father did or didn’t like with respect to her mother. “I really admire her. She followed her dreams and I know she loves being here. The islands have become a huge part of her. She is good at what she does and apparently is in high demand.”
Colton nodded, recognizing Olivia was proud of her mother. “When was the last time you had contact with her?”
Olivia shifted her stance and leaned with her backside against the railing, her arms crossed. His question was excruciatingly uncomfortable for her. “Uh . . . it was probably, uh, I think it was about a month ago.” She was embarrassed to admit it.
“A month ago.” His tone was even, not seeming to be passing judgment. He was just reiterating.
“Yeah. That was probably the longest time we had gone without being in touch but, yes, it was about a month ago.”
“Okay.” His questioning subsided for a moment, which gave her a chance to think.
“If my mother wanted to go out on a boat, if it wasn’t for a specific assignment, how or where would she do that?”
“It’s simple, really. She could hire a boat with a captain through the company I work for or any of the other companies on the island that hire out boats. It’s quite common. Tourists very often charter boats for the day, but locals enjoy a day out on the water, too.”
“And where would they take the boat out of? Where would the boats be docked?”
“Any number of marinas. There’s one on the right just before Red Hook where our boats are docked. A lot of private boats are docked there.”
Nodding, Olivia filed away the information he shared.
Colton waited to see if she had more questions.
“Okay, thanks.”
His eyebrows raised in response, as if he was surprised at the abrupt end to the discussion but used the cue to change the subject.
“So, let’s move on to tonight. If you don’t have any plans, but then again maybe you do, my band is going to be playing at Izzies from eight to eleven. I would love to see you in the audience. You know, a friendly face? It should be a lot of fun. This is one of our favorite places to perform. It’s right on the beach and we usually get a great crowd.” He looked eagerly toward her. “I know you have a lot on your mind, but it would be good for you to get out and have a little fun.”
Olivia’s thoughts were stuck at the marina at Red Hook. Finally she turned and acknowledged him. “Sure, that sounds like fun. What time?”
“Eight . . . at Izzies.”
“Okay, I’ll try to head over there tonight.”
“That would be awesome.” He sounded pleased.
A noise behind them made them turn away from the view. They were relieved to see it was a police car making its way back down the driveway.
The rookie cop had returned with a fingerprinting kit. They made their way back out to the driveway to meet him. He quickly got out of his vehicle and strutted over to the light blue Jeep.
“No one has touched it, have you?”
Colton and Olivia shook their heads in unison. Olivia spoke on their behalf. “No, of course, not.”
The young officer went straight to his task, making short work of it. Before long, he had finished and began to pack up. “There weren’t a lot of prints. Actually rather clean. But I took what I could.” He couldn’t resist asking the question on his mind, though. “Do you have a key to the Jeep? There doesn’t seem to be one in it.”
Olivia’s body stiffened at the thought. The car was sitting in the driveway, but she still couldn’t use it. She kept her cool. “Oh, I’ll see if there’s an extra set in the house. Shouldn’t be a problem.” She sounded much more confident than she felt.
As the officer returned to his vehicle and then retreated back up the driveway, she diverted her thoughts to the key, earnestly hoping to find it. Otherwise she was still stranded with no way to get around.
Colton seemed anxious to head out behind the officer. “I’ll see you later at Izzies?”
Amused by his persistence, Olivia was relieved she would soon have some time to herself. “I’ll see what I can do.” Then the photographer in her stepped in. “Maybe I’ll bring my camera and get some photos of you and your band performing.”
Colton’s face lit up. “That would be great. We’ve never had a professional photographer taking pictures. Usually it’s just friends with their phones. It would be awesome to get some decent pics for promotional purposes. The guys will be stoked.”
Not wanting to commit, she smiled coyly. “I’ll see if I can get there.”
With a wi
nk, he walked around to the driver’s side of his car, jumped in and started it up. He quickly backed up, poked his hand through the opening where the roof would have been to wave, and roared back up the steep driveway.
Drawn to the Jeep sitting in front of her, Olivia was curious to see what condition it was in. A far cry from an expert auto mechanic, her mother at least knew the basics of car maintenance and usually kept her vehicle in pristine condition. Back when they lived under the same roof, Olivia made a point of hanging around to learn as much as she could from her.
Opening the driver’s side door, she reached in and pulled the release lever with a thud. Letting the door shut, she walked around to the front and lifted up hood, securing it in place. At first glance it looked surprisingly clean. She reached for the oil dipstick and pulled it out. After wiping it clean with a broad leaf from a nearby bush, she re-inserted it and pulled it out again. The oil level was where it should be. Glancing underneath, near the bottom of the engine, she could see the oil filter looked brand new, apparently changed recently. Olivia continued her assessment by checking the rest of the fluid levels, the coolant, windshield washer, and brake and power steering fluids. Puzzled, she stepped back for a moment. The vehicle looked as though it had been thoroughly serviced. She wasn’t sure if that provided her with any more information other than the Jeep was probably in good working condition, which was certainly a pleasant surprise. Now, if only she could find a key.
Olivia returned to the somber solace inside her mother’s Caribbean bungalow, ambling to her mother’s studio. She stopped on the threshold out of respect for her mother’s workspace.
Shaking her head, she let out a sigh. “Mom, I could use your help here,” she pleaded, speaking as if her mother were sitting at her worktable positioned in the middle of the room. “I have no idea what to do . . . where to go, who to talk to,” she continued, stepping inside the studio, gesturing with her arms as she spoke. “God, I hope you’re alive. . . . I just wish I knew.” Discouraged, her voice trailed off. She stood there for a moment, then turned and slipped back out through the doorway.
After throwing together a simple pasta dinner, she carried it outside to enjoy while taking in the view of the bay. She pictured Colton doing the same thing on his deck but gazing out to Charlotte Amalie Harbor instead. Trying to appreciate every detail around her and commit it all to memory, she didn’t want to forget any of it, especially after the place was sold. Realizing she could do better than that, she promptly retrieved her camera from the house, returning with it strapped around her neck, and went straight to work, capturing the stunning views. Then she turned her attention to the outside of the brightly painted bungalow.
Olivia painstakingly documented every angle, capturing the charm of the colorful little house. Moving on to the vegetation, she photographed the flowering bushes growing naturally around the small yard, at times focusing on single blooms. She was in her element. Time stood still when she had her camera in her hand. After a lengthy stint behind the lens, she came around the side of the house where the Jeep came into view. Deciding to include her mother’s car in the photo shoot, she started with the driver’s side and worked her way around it. Then she opened the driver’s door and climbed in, getting interesting perspectives from both seats in the front and back. Pleased with her work and uncomfortably hot from the oppressive summer heat, she declared her photo shoot complete and scrambled out of the car.
Olivia was looking forward to getting out for the evening but then it dawned on her she still didn’t have a key for the vehicle. It didn’t look like she was going anywhere unless she found it or called a cab. Her eyes widened as she recalled her mother used to keep an extra key under the mat on the passenger side of the front seat. Tickled at the possibility, she dashed around to the opposite side of the car.
Rustling in the brush on the far side of the house caused her to pause. A couple of birds? A mongoose? She had the uncomfortable feeling she was being watched. As casually as she could muster, she glanced around the perimeter of the yard, not noticing anything out of the ordinary but concerned why she had sensed something. Noticing the shadows were getting longer, she could tell the sun was on its way down.
Quickly she climbed back into the car and her fingers groped for the floor mat. She pulled up one corner. Nothing. She tried another corner. Nothing. Two more corners. Still nothing. Her heart sank. She gave the entire mat a good yank, and then flinched as both eyes were accosted with dirt and sand from an untold number of visits to the beach. Falling back against the seat, she dropped the filthy mat in her lap. Each blink was painful as she tried to flush the grit from her eyes. She coughed and brushed dirt from her face and lap. Once she regained her composure, she turned her eyes back to the floor, expecting to see something shimmering. She was disappointed but carefully ran her hand across the entire floor space in front of her seat to be sure. Feeling defeated, she threw the mat down, leaving it off-kilter where it landed.
Getting out and walking around the car, she checked the other three floor mats to no avail. Her body slumped in frustration. Hot and tired from the heat of the day, she took a few steps back toward the house but then stopped in her tracks. She retraced her steps to the driver’s door and got back in. Leaning over to the passenger side, she opened the glove compartment and pulled out the driver’s manual, the registration, a couple of brochures from local attractions, and several takeout menus. No key. Bending over to look deeper inside, she swept the dark cavity with her hand but it was empty. Disappointed, she fell back into the seat but believed it had been worth the effort. She couldn’t get a break. Her frustration escalating, she shoved the contents of the compartment back into the small space and slammed the door shut, catching a corner of a brochure sticking out. The small plastic door popped back open. She shoved the papers in farther and then slammed it shut again. This time the door stuck. Relieved, she exited the stifling hot vehicle.
A set of eyes peeking out of the brush along the edge of the yard followed her as she moved across the yard and up the steps.
Olivia slammed the screen door shut and staggered slightly toward the kitchen, but something on the coffee table caught her eye on the way by. She took a step back and glanced down into the small catch-all basket. At first she couldn’t make sense of what she saw. It looked like the key to her mother’s Jeep, complete with the light blue-and-green-striped ribbon tied to it as it had been for as long as Olivia could remember. But how did the key get there, and why didn’t she notice it before? She wondered how long it had been sitting there. Was the heat getting to her again? Olivia looked closely at the key with its ribbon to be sure of what she was seeing, concerned her brain was creating the image because she wanted it to be true. She reached down and picked it up. It felt good in her fingers. A tingling sensation rippled through her stomach in anticipation of driving the Jeep. She wanted to run back outside and fire it up.
Restraining herself from hastily departing, she headed to the kitchen to drink a couple glasses of water in an effort to keep herself hydrated. She hated the idea of someone having to come to her rescue (again) simply because she had neglected to drink enough. The tap wasn’t particularly refreshing, though, as the water didn’t get cold no matter how long it ran. Just another aspect of island living. Although there was a desalination plant on St. Thomas that used reverse osmosis to transform sea water into drinking water, only a minority of homes on the island benefited from it directly.
At her mother’s bungalow, like most other homes on the island, the corrugated metal roof funneled rainwater through a downspout into a cistern below the dwelling. Most people used the cistern water for taking showers, washing clothes, and cleaning dishes but purchased jugs of purified water for drinking. Olivia’s mother had installed a water purifier next to the kitchen sink so she could also drink the collected rain water. Living on an island meant every drop was precious. If the cistern got low, during extended periods of particularly dry weather, homeowners had to pay to have
water delivered by truck.
Olivia freshened up with a quick shower and clean clothes. A sheer, feminine, off-white sleeveless top with the same color camisole underneath and slim-fitting black denim capris with strappy black sandals accented with a little bit of sparkly bling near the toes. After all, she was going out on the town. She was glad she had tossed them in when she packed, just in case. On her way out the door, she grabbed her camera as she had promised Colton. The screen door clicked behind her as she made her way out, a real spring in her step in anticipation.
Jumping into her mother’s Jeep, she laid her camera carefully on the passenger seat. The key slid easily into the ignition. Slowly she pressed her eyes closed and turned the key, willing the engine to turn over but instead it groaned. Her eyes popped open. It wasn’t happening! Olivia was not giving up that easily. She gritted her teeth, stared straight ahead, and turned the key again. This time the engine grumbled initially and then roared to life. Her eyes widened and she pumped her fist into the air. Finally something was going her way.
An overwhelming wave of excitement combined with a healthy dose of apprehension coursed through her veins. Tightly grasping the steering wheel, her hands felt sweaty and tingly. She put the Jeep in reverse, turned it around, and ascended the steep, curvy driveway, pausing at the top.
“Stay to the left. Stay to the left.” She hoped she would remember. Some habits were hard to break.
CHAPTER SIX
After negotiating the tricky intersection just up from Magens Bay, Olivia reached the crest of the mountain with Charlotte Amalie sprawled out below and the harbor beyond. The view took her breath away. Trade winds were strong and, once again, she hadn’t remembered to pull her hair back before climbing into the Jeep. Fortunately her mother’s had the soft top on it. She would deal with her hair when she got there. As she drove down the mountain, she was tempted to steal a peek at the view out to the harbor along the way but didn’t dare. Keeping the car on the left side of the road, and not off the edge, was much more of a priority. Her hands were clamped tightly onto the east and west sides of the steering wheel. Slowing down every time an oncoming car passed her, she did her best to ignore an impatient driver who remained close behind her all the way down the mountain.
The Empty Chair ~ Murder in the Caribbean Page 7
