Replaying the conversation with Colton, she was curious about the marina on the way to Red Hook and felt drawn there to at least take a look around. Perhaps she would find someone to talk to. She wasn’t entirely familiar with the area, but she vaguely recalled the marina was on the way to the bar. She would figure it out.
Before long, she was sitting at the traffic light at the bottom of the mountain looking out to the water. “Stay to the left. Stay to the left,” she whispered, pleading with herself. Instead of turning right toward the downtown shops, she turned left onto Route 30 to head east toward Red Hook. The road followed along the curve of the harbor and became more congested as she approached Havensight where the cruise ships docked. Shops and restaurants lined both sides of the street and orange Jersey barriers filled the center due to road work still going on from her previous couple of visits. She chuckled to herself as she inched through traffic. Even the construction was on island time.
Emerging from there, the narrow road snaked up the hill and into a more residential area curving back and forth, up and down. Her right foot darted from the gas pedal to tap the brakes and back again as she endeavored to hug the curves in the road and willed the oncoming cars to stay on their side. The line in the middle faded in and out as if it weren’t brave enough to commit to the road completely. “Stay Left” signs, meant for tourists, outnumbered speed limit signs but most local drivers ignored them anyway. Olivia mused they should just post signs that read, “Drive at your own risk.”
Some turns were so sharp and inclines were so steep, the tips of her fingers tingled and her knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. When she reached the top of one hill, in particular, she hesitated because she couldn’t see below to the other side. She said a quick prayer and eased the car back down the hill, feeling like the car would slip off the surface of the road and fall straight down. It reminded her of cartoons where the car zipped to the top of a ridiculously steep incline and came to a halt on the pointed top where it teetered until its momentum landed it onto the other side. Then it zipped straight down again. The experience was similar to being on a roller coaster. Her stomach certainly couldn’t tell the difference.
Along the way, the landscape was peppered with an interesting array of abodes, from tiny cinder block or wooden shacks near the road to palatial multi-room villas perched high up on the hillsides, which afforded the occupants magnificent ocean views. Olivia’s eyes were drawn to both extremes, all the while continuously pulling her focus back to the left side of the road. Before long she came upon the driveway on the right for Izzies. It surprised her it was before the marina area she was heading toward but shrugged it off. It had been a while since her last trip to the island. Her memory was not completely accurate.
Olivia continued to make her way along the winding, island road. On the way up another hill, her phone vibrated in her pocket. Deep down she knew she shouldn’t take her eyes off the road. She did her best to pull it out of her pocket, press “answer,” and switch it to speaker before dropping it in her lap. It was her good friend, Laurie, back in Boston. She was pleased to hear from her.
“Hey, girlfriend!”
“Hey, girlie! How’s it going?” Laurie’s demeanor was always upbeat and her voice lilting.
“It’s going okay,” she lied. “How are things with you?”
“Great. Things are great. But everything is going okay with you?” Laurie asked again to confirm. Her friend knew her well. It was going to be difficult to convince her.
“Yeah, Laurie. I’m okay. Just trying to get things squared away. A lot of loose ends.”
“I’m sure. But I know you can handle it. I wish I could have come with you. I wish you didn’t have to handle this by yourself. You know that, don’t you?”
It was great to hear her voice. Laurie’s sweet and uplifting spirit was energizing to everyone around her. Olivia could use an injection of positive.
“Of course, absolutely. But you are helping me and I appreciate it.”
“Oh, heavens! I’m not doing much at all,” Laurie scoffed.
“Yes, you are,” Olivia insisted. “How is little Chloe doing?” She tried to redirect her friend in a positive way.
“Oh, she’s great. A perfect angel. I think she and I are actually bonding. Imagine that!”
Olivia sensed Laurie was being overly positive, perhaps even stretching the truth a bit. She wasn’t a huge fan of felines but tolerated Chloe only because she and Olivia were such close friends.
“Good to hear. Next thing you know she’ll be sitting in your lap,” Olivia teased, knowing her friend was allergic to cats.
“Oh, I hope not! Anyway, I also wanted to give you a quick call and let you know there was something in the mail I brought in that I thought you might be interested in. It’s a package. You know . . . kind of a flat, padded envelope. Not real big.”
Olivia listened intently, waiting for a reason to be interested.
“It’s addressed to your father.”
That wasn’t it. Olivia frowned slightly. She knew she had no business looking at her father’s mail and was confused as to why Laurie would even ask.
“Laurie, if it’s his then I don’t see—”
“It looks like it might be postmarked the U.S. Virgin Islands. It’s not real clear, but it looks like it could be. There’s no return address though.”
Olivia took a moment to think, still keeping her eyes on the road, and then concluded she shouldn’t be opening her father’s mail. She’d be foolish to entertain the idea.
“You know what, Laurie, I appreciate you asking but if it’s addressed to him, I can’t very well . . . he has business practically all over the world.” She knew it was a slight exaggeration, but she was trying to make a point. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with me and what I’m doing down here. Especially if it’s addressed to him. I’ll let him open it when he gets back. But thank you for thinking of me. I appreciate it.”
“Okay. No problem. Let me know if there is anything else I can do. . . . Livvie?”
“Yeah?” Olivia stared off into the distance, somewhat leery of what was coming next.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what does your father do? We’ve never talked about it. I always had the sense you’d rather not. But he’s always gone. Always traveling. I’m sorry if I’m prying but we’ve been friends forever, and it just seems odd I don’t know.”
Uncomfortable she didn’t know the specifics of what her father did either, Olivia stalled, not wanting to admit it. He wasn’t around much to talk about his work or anything else for that matter. Her father traveled extensively for his job, leaving her alone much of the time, forcing her to fend for herself. Olivia never cared enough to ask when he did blow through town. She had grown uncomfortably distant from him, having been essentially on her own since her parents separated when she was twelve. It’s just the way it had always been. She didn’t know anything different. But she also didn’t know how to answer her best friend’s question. Squinting her eyes, she struggled to come up with something.
“Oh, Laurie, I don’t know exactly. . . . It has to do with finance. Investments of some sort. I’m not sure. It’s all so . . . I don’t know. Confusing to me. He travels a lot. We don’t talk about it.” Anxious to change the subject, she added, “Anyway, I appreciate what you’re doing for me.”
“There’s something else for you. It’s a hand-addressed envelope to you, and the return address is Abigail Adams Studios.”
Olivia’s eyes widened. She hoped it was good news, but she pulled back her expectations in case it wasn’t.
“Yeah, why don’t you open that. Let’s see what it’s all about.” She knew what it was and crossed her fingers in anticipation.
Listening to rustling on the other end of the line, Olivia tried to wait patiently, keeping an eye out for the marina as she drove.
“Oh! Do you want me to read this to you?”
Sounded like it was good news. She gave her the go-ahead
.
As her friend read the letter, Olivia learned she had apparently made it into the top ten finalists out of thousands of applicants for an apprenticeship she had applied for with none other than Boston’s renowned Abigail Adams Photography Studio. She shook her head in disbelief, never dreaming she would make it that far. She had applied on a whim.
“Wow, that’s great. I never expected that.”
“Olivia, that’s amazing! Good for you.” Laurie’s enthusiasm was contagious.
“Yeah, now what? I have to wait and see?”
Olivia had reached the end of Route 30 where it intersected with Route 32. She carefully navigated a right turn, crossing the oncoming lane to get to the left side.
“It says they will be in touch over the next couple of days.”
“Okay, great. I don’t have time to worry about that right now, but it’s great news. I’ll just have to see what happens.”
“Olivia! Oh my gosh, this is amazing! Are you familiar with the Abigail Adams Studio?”
“Seriously, Laurie? I applied for the apprenticeship. Of course, I’m familiar with the studio. And just because I get a letter saying I’m in the top ten doesn’t mean there is anything to get excited about yet. We all know how these things work. Even though it looks like the application process is legitimate, it doesn’t mean it is. So much in life is about who you know.”
“It’s still fantastic news. I’m proud of you.”
The sign for the marina came into view ahead of her on the right.
“Oh, Laurie, I have to go. I’m coming up on my turn for my next appointment.” Again, a slight exaggeration.
“Okay. No problem, Livvie. You take it easy, okay?”
“Absolutely. And thanks again for taking care of things in Boston for me. I really appreciate it.”
Slowing the vehicle as she approached the entrance, Olivia surveyed the marina quickly and pulled in. The tattered sign read “Blue Water Marina” in blue block lettering with black outlines on a white background. Paint was peeling from the sign, but Olivia interpreted that as a repercussion of the island’s weather and relaxed island attitude, not an indication it was a less than viable enterprise.
“Any time, girlfriend. Call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks. Gotta go,” Olivia blurted out, cutting Laurie off abruptly, but she needed to focus as she entered the dry dock section of the marina and meandered through rows of boats perched high up on wooden platforms in the dirt lot. Pulling the car into the first spot large enough for it to fit, she shifted the Jeep into park and turned off the engine.
“Bye, Liv. Miss you!”
“Miss you too. See you soon.” Olivia pressed the button to end the call. Grabbing her camera from the passenger seat, she climbed out of the vehicle and slammed the door shut, anxiously anticipating what might be in store for her, hoping to find someone to talk to.
Scanning the boats perched up high all around her, in the process of getting renovated or repaired, she found some so large and towering they were daunting. There was no one in sight working on any of them. It was eerily quiet and looked more like a boat graveyard where the unwanted and neglected were dumped.
Quickly snapping photos, not stopping to look around or assess her surroundings, she was fascinated by the contrast in size of the boats and the extreme conditions some were left in. Black and white photographs would do a better job of telling each boat’s story. Reaching the end of the dry dock section, she arrived at the edge of the marina where the docked boats were, passing a small outdoor restaurant to the left. It sounded like a couple of regulars were engrossed in animated conversation at the bar.
Olivia stopped for a moment to survey the vast number of boats bobbing in the water. Veritable poetry in motion. The water was relatively calm, yet subtle disturbances caused the boats to bob from time to time. Olivia was mesmerized by the naturally choreographed ballet. These vessels had a different feel than the boats suspended on wooden frames, barred from heading out onto the water anytime in the near future. Instead, the docked boats were only temporarily tethered, just a couple tugs on the ropes away from heading out to the open sea.
Slipping stealthily onto the dock, she snapped pictures in rapid succession as she ambled. The metal dock under her feet felt alive as it responded to the ebb and flow of the water beneath it. Slowly she inched along, glancing down from time to time to be sure she didn’t misstep and end up in the water. A dog barked in the distance.
Olivia stopped next to a sleek white boat with two large black engines on the back of it tilted out of the water. She didn’t have a working knowledge of boats, but it looked fast. It appeared to have seating for at least eight passengers, four at the stern, four more toward the bow, with a Hunter green canopy over the captain’s wheel. Her mother came to mind for a moment, and Olivia wondered if she had been out on a boat like this.
“Hey!” a gruff voice bellowed from behind her.
Nearly dropping her camera, she turned to look into the approaching face of aggression.
“Who are you and what the hell are you doing?” A large muscular man with rounded shoulders and rough features charged toward her. His white t-shirt with its sleeves ripped from the seams and grease smudges across the front suggested a hardworking yardman. Anger radiated from his unshaven and sunburned face. His short white hair stuck out at odd angles.
Olivia recoiled as it crossed her mind it could be a private marina. Her stomach tightened into a knot. She forced what she hoped was a calm face to avoid divulging how nervous he was making her. “Evening . . .”
He advanced toward her, lunging his face uncomfortably close to hers with eyes wide and nostrils flaring, demanding answers to his questions.
A strong whiff of sweat accosted her nose. Olivia took a step backward to put more space between them and fought to control her facial expression as her body grew rigid with fear.
“Well? What are you doing here?” His anger seemed to be escalating.
“I’m—uh—I’m just—” She stammered in her attempt to find the right words to calm him while trying not to panic. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend anyone.” Glancing furtively across the marina, she drew in a quick breath while searching for someone, anyone, to assure her she was not alone with the irate man. Not a soul was around.
“Offend anyone! Lady, you’re trespassing on private property.” His temper was not subsiding.
“I’m sorry. Really. The marina is so beautiful I got pulled in off the street. I just thought this would be a great place to snap some photos. I didn’t mean any harm.” She cringed at her attempt to pacify him. Sounded too obvious.
His face seemed to soften. She prayed she wasn’t just imagining it.
Olivia instincts yelled at her to run but the man, in all of his rage, stood between her and the way off the dock.
“Lady, you can’t just waltz in here because you think it’s ‘pretty’.” His voice lilted on the last word. “These boats are privately owned, and I don’t think the owners would appreciate what you’re doing.”
“I should have known better. I’m sorry.” She hoped her groveling was working. “Sometimes this camera gets the better of me, and I get carried away.” She chuckled a nervous laugh, trying to lighten his mood.
“You need to get on out of here before trouble arrives.”
Olivia shuddered at the thought of more trouble than him. She was more than happy to leave before the situation got any worse, but he stood firm in his stance on the dock.
“All right!” She threw up her hands as if to surrender. “I’m out of here. No worries. I’m gone. Thanks for . . .”
She wasn’t sure what to thank him for. For not grabbing her by the arm and throwing her head first into the water with her camera still strapped to her neck? For not snatching her camera and throwing it into the water?
“Just thanks.”
That was the best she could come up with. It would have to do. She left it at that and then strode towa
rd the imposing figure who could easily prevent her from leaving. To her surprise and relief, he stepped back enough to allow her room to walk past him. Her feet tread a bit too close to the edge of the dock for her comfort, sending a chill through her body, but she pushed her way through her anxiety. Walking as quickly as her legs would carry her without actually running, she reached the end of the dock, stepping off onto the edge of the dirt lot. Solid ground. That made her feel a little more comfortable. She hesitated for a moment but didn’t want to waste an opportunity. Turning back toward the docks, she could see the man still stood next to the sleek white boat. His arms were folded firmly across his wide girth, feet spread in an authoritative stance, still wearing an ornery glare as he watched her leave.
Did she dare? She didn’t feel she had a choice. “Excuse me.” She took a step closer to him but remained at a relatively safe distance. “Could I ask you something?” She stood tall, trying to maintain a confident posture.
His eyebrows arched above his eyes as if in disbelief she was so bold.
She continued without waiting for a response. “Would you know anything about a boating accident recently? Like within the past couple of weeks or so?” Knowing she was taking a risk, she hoped she hadn’t pushed him too far.
The yardman stared straight through her. Finally he shifted his body weight and then walked down the dock toward her. He kept walking until he stopped uncomfortably close to her again. Having a sizable one-step vertical advantage standing on the dock, the angry, smelly man towered over her.
She retreated a couple of steps but maintained eye contact with him.
The Empty Chair ~ Murder in the Caribbean Page 8
