The Empty Chair ~ Murder in the Caribbean

by Penny Goetjen

  “Oh, yeah. Apparently I had a visitor last night while I was out.”

  “What?” Sarah looked genuinely concerned for her. She examined the room more closely.

  “Yeah, I found this when I got in. They made such a mess.”

  “Did they take anything?”

  “Oh . . .” Olivia pursed her lips in disgust. “I have no way of knowing. I don’t know what my mother had.” She reached down and picked up the soggy bag of water that used to be ice and tossed it across the room, landing it in the center of the kitchen sink.

  Sarah nodded in silence, acknowledging she understood. “Did you call the police?”

  Olivia didn’t want to get into specifics about it. “Yeah, I’ve been in touch with them,” she fibbed in an attempt to move along the conversation.

  “I’m sorry, Olivia.”

  “Thanks.” Her voice was barely audible.

  The two scrutinized the mess in silence for a moment.

  “I didn’t take the time to pick it all up yet. I can’t stand looking at it.”

  “I can imagine. Would you like some help?”

  “Oh, that’s sweet of you but I’ll handle it myself.”

  The agent walked over and placed her hand on top of one of the upturned upholstered chairs. “How about if I help you with these, at least.”

  “Yeah, that would be good.” Olivia chuckled as she pictured herself trying to lift the two bulky chairs without any help. “Thanks.”

  Once they righted the two mismatched, well-worn chairs, they wound their way through the little bungalow as Olivia embellished the guided tour with colorful anecdotes and pleasant memories, tidying the mess as they moved along. Sarah commented on all the positive features she noticed that would make the house desirable to buyers. She remarked on how well maintained the property appeared to be, inside and out, the surprising size of the lot, the incredible view and how tastefully, albeit simply, the home was decorated.

  Olivia chortled inside. Her agent was being rather generous describing her mother’s house as tastefully decorated.

  Sarah elaborated that it was much better when the décor was simple. That way, buyers weren’t distracted by the sellers’ personal taste and could picture themselves living in the house.

  “As you might expect, there are a lot of homes listed for sale, and in a dizzying range of conditions. Properties in such good shape like this one will sell much more quickly than those that are not, especially if they are priced right.”

  Olivia tried to push away the raw pain. The idea of her mother’s bungalow selling quickly and suddenly no longer hers to enjoy was heartbreaking.

  Sarah cut her spiel short when she noticed Olivia struggling. “I’m sorry, obviously this is hard for you.”

  “It is hard,” she acknowledged. Her head swayed back and forth slowly.

  “I can only imagine.” Sarah’s face was contemplative. She hesitated for a moment, seeming to examine Olivia’s eyes and then continued. “On the positive side, what you have is a solid piece of property that would be very desirable to buyers. It could sell quickly. Of course, speed is relative in a market with listings that languish for months, sometimes years.”

  “Years?”

  “Well, yes. Those are properties that are not priced properly, where the sellers have insisted on a particular listing price and aren’t being realistic in their expectations and/or they’re not in a hurry to sell so it doesn’t matter to them if the property sits for a while. They think if they wait long enough, the right buyer will come along who is willing to pay their asking price, or at least close to it.”

  Fighting her emotions, Olivia listened patiently to her words.

  “There is another option to selling you might be interested in.”

  Olivia perked up. She was listening.

  “You could rent it out.”

  Her eyes grew wide.

  “Olivia, there is such a strong rental market on the island, you could keep the house. It would be available when you wanted to come down and then rent it when you’re not here.”

  A slight smile tugged at the edge of her mouth. Olivia saw the possibilities in what Sarah was saying. “Brilliant.”

  “And I could take care of the logistics for you. Renters could check in with my office to get a key. I could arrange for a housekeeper to go in after each renter has checked out. The rental income could offset your expenses. Do you know if your mother had a mortgage on the place or if she owned it outright?”

  Olivia paused for a moment. She didn’t know. She wasn’t privy to her mother’s finances.

  Sarah continued. “Either way, you could probably cover your expenses with rent on a place like this.”

  Olivia liked the sound of the proposition. A whole new realm of possibilities opened up to her that she hadn’t realized before. Then her father’s predictable objections came to mind and her hopes were quickly dashed. He certainly wouldn’t be interested in the possibility of hanging onto the place. Olivia would have to evaluate her options.

  At least she had options. She loved the way Sarah’s mind worked and how she conducted business.

  “Sarah, would you like a glass of wine? We could have one out on the gallery. You could really appreciate the view out to Magens Bay.” She couldn’t keep from wrinkling her nose as her suggestion sounded a bit trite, like a pick-up line.

  “I’d love to.”

  To Olivia’s relief, Sarah sounded pleased at the offer.

  “Awesome. Let me grab a bottle. Do you prefer red or white?”

  “Oh, I’m not particular. Whatever you’d like . . . or whatever you have open.”

  It crossed Olivia’s mind that their age difference made it feel almost like she was having a drink with her mother. She wished she could have a drink with her mother.

  Olivia pulled out the bottle of red she had opened the night she first arrived. After apologizing for not having wine glasses, she led the way onto the gallery to relax at the small table and chairs. Sipping the Merlot, they watched the sun dip in the sky. The breezes off the bay were refreshing. Their eyes followed a solitary boat silently slicing through the water as it headed toward the beach.

  Feeling the effects of wine on an empty stomach, Olivia’s thoughts returned to the night before at Izzies and how grateful she was to have met Sarah at the bar. Shaking her head, she pictured Colton’s face later in the evening when she dismissed him abruptly in the heat of the moment. Turning her focus back to her mother, she broke the silence to re-engage with Sarah.

  “Sarah, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Did you know my mother, by any chance? Liv Benning?”

  “I’ve definitely heard of her. I don’t know if I’ve met her, though. I understand she’s a talented photographer.”

  Olivia beamed with pride.

  “She has some beautiful work displayed in a gallery downtown. A friend of mine is the owner.”

  Recalling her recent visit to the art gallery, she smiled. “Yes, I stopped in there yesterday. There were so many talented artists represented. I would love to have my work displayed there some day.”

  “Olivia, what happened to your mother?” Sarah’s voice softened. “That is, if you don’t mind me asking.”

  Olivia’s face fell. She was unsure how much she wanted to divulge. “It’s a little complicated. Apparently there was a boating accident.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah . . .” Olivia fell silent, holding her gaze on a remote spot out to sea, somewhere beyond the peninsula.

  No words were spoken for a while.

  Draining the last sip of wine from her glass, Sarah stood up slowly, taking in one last look at the panoramic view. The breeze tossed her hair about and she brushed it back with one hand. “Look, I’m going to get busy doing some digging. I’ll look up some comps and work up some numbers for you. I’ll put together what I would recommend for a list price but also what you could ask for rentals. You’ll have options
, okay?”

  Olivia perked up and stood to see her agent out. “Sounds good. Thank you for your time.”

  “Oh, my pleasure. Your mother’s place is such a gem. I could definitely get it sold. It’s such an adorable bungalow in such a great location. But I certainly understand if you want to hang on to it.”

  Olivia cringed on the inside, knowing her father would be extremely upset if he knew she was considering holding onto Serenity Villa and renting it out. Figuring there was no harm in finding out what her options were, she was elated at the possibility as she walked Sarah to her car.

  “Thanks again. I appreciate it.”

  Sarah reached out and hugged her. It felt good. Olivia might have held on longer than she should have, but Sarah didn’t let go until she did. Finally they stepped back but Sarah held onto one shoulder.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss, Olivia, but I’m glad we bumped into each other last night.”

  “Same,” she whispered, forcing a contented look that took more effort than usual, sad to see Sarah go. Perhaps her Realtor would turn out to be a good friend, someone she could trust. She hoped so but wasn’t ready to let down her guard completely. Not yet.

  As Olivia watched the Explorer disappear through the robust greenery, her mother’s mailbox caught her eye. Charging up the hill on foot, she wondered what it might hold. How long had mail been piling up inside? As she reached the crest of the steep hill, the muscles in her thighs began to burn.

  The mailbox was a rounded rectangular box of battered metal that used to be white. It was mounted sideways on a four-by-four, wooden, unpainted post, parallel to the street. She tugged on the latch and the door did not give easily. She tugged harder and the stubborn door finally gave way. To her surprise, it was empty. She stared at it for a moment, bent over to look closely inside and ran a hand across the bottom of it all the way to the back wall to be sure. Nothing. She furrowed her brow and pushed out her bottom lip. Disappointed, she slammed the mailbox door shut and retreated back down the driveway. It didn’t make sense. No bills. Did she pay them all electronically? Not even any junk mail or flyers.

  Olivia felt a vibration in her pocket and pulled out her phone. It was a text from Colton. Though still feeling guilty for snapping at him the night before, she was annoyed by his intrusion and wanted him to stay out of her way and let her handle it.

  || Olivia don’t forget to file the missing persons report. ||

  She stared blankly at the words and then shoved her phone back in her pocket without responding.

  Reaching her mother’s Jeep, she remembered she had left some things in her car when she quickly exited earlier, so she walked around to the passenger side. As she reached for the door handle, her pocket vibrated again. Olivia closed her eyes briefly, trying to control her emotions. She pulled her phone out and wasn’t surprised it was Colton again.

  || The police won’t do anything to investigate your mother’s disappearance unless you file it. They can’t. ||

  Breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly, she knew he was right. She hated to admit it, but she certainly wasn’t about to let him know. Before she could put her phone away, it vibrated again.

  “What?” she yelled in exasperation. Olivia wanted him to butt out.

  || I know you don’t want to hear from me but please listen anyway. ||

  Olivia did a double take. Was there really a smiley face at the end of his last text? Seriously? It put a smile on her face she tried to wipe off, but just couldn’t.

  “Damn it, Colton.” She wanted to stay angry but felt herself give in. “I can handle this,” she insisted out loud. But deep down she knew she wasn’t, and perhaps she couldn’t. She didn’t even have her next steps planned out. The last thing she wanted to do was to go crawling back to him, but he could be someone who could help her. Her time was limited not only by the amount of money she had, but her father would be expecting her to get it all wrapped up and return home soon. She hated to concede, but she needed help. At a loss for where to turn next, she felt overwhelmed.

  Olivia reached into the car and retrieved the forms from the humane society and the police station along with her lukewarm water bottle and the soggy peanut butter sandwich. The latter of which was certainly not edible after spending a good part of the day in the car. Even if it was, she wasn’t interested in it.

  Heading inside, she dropped the forms on the kitchen counter, the water bottle in the sink, and the soggy mess in the trash can. She considered the missing persons report and deemed it a priority. Rummaging through the kitchen drawers, she pulled out a pen. At first it was stubborn and wouldn’t work, but she banged it against the counter a few times, scribbling on the back of the humane society application in between whacks. Finally it rolled out ink. Compartmentalizing her mother’s narrative into a bunch of lines on a form seemed totally inadequate. She’d have to talk with someone when she dropped it off so she could fill in the rest of the story.

  When she reached the bottom, she vowed to take it right back down the mountain. It crossed her mind that every time she took off in the Jeep, though, she was burning costly fuel that would have to be replaced at some point. She needed to make her trips more efficient. After this one.

  Her stomach’s grumbling signaled her body had already absorbed her light breakfast and was looking for more, but she ignored it and returned to the Jeep with a fresh water bottle in hand. Before long, she was sailing back down the mountain toward Charlotte Amalie Harbor. A sizable cruise ship was docked at Havensight in the distance. Black smoke billowed from a broad red column near its stern and wafted away, dissipating as if it had never existed.

  At the bottom of the hill, Olivia found a spot for the Jeep on a side street and strode down the sidewalk to the police station, hoping to portray an air of confidence. Only a couple of people were in line in front of her this time. She waited patiently but felt anxious about making a third appearance. There was something about the place that made her nervous.

  Finally she reached the counter and was relieved to see the person standing behind it in his crisp blue short-sleeved uniform shirt was not Officer Barnes. Yet he had a familiar face. Perhaps she had seen him on one of her previous two visits. He seemed pleasant enough but only wanted to take the form from her.

  “Could I just talk with someone who could help me?”

  “Ma’am, we have your form. It will be reviewed, and someone will get in touch with you.”

  Olivia’s shoulders drooped and she let out a long, exasperated exhale. Why did such an urgent situation get turned into something so routine? How many missing persons did they have in a day . . . or even a week? A month, for that matter. Disappointed, she stormed back out to the street, teeth clenched and a frown on her face.

  It wasn’t long before she felt as though someone was following along behind her. She quickened her step, trying to get to her car as quickly as possible. She grabbed the door handle, jumped in, and started it right up. Before she could back out of the spot, a face appeared abruptly and leaned in at the driver’s window.

  “Hey, Miss Benning.”

  Her eyes grew wide and she turned to see the rookie cop who had stopped by the house twice and gathered fingerprints on her mother’s car.

  “Yes?”

  “Look, I probably shouldn’t be talking to you about this, but I know you’re trying to find your mother . . . or at least find out what might have happened to her . . . and . . . well, I can sympathize with what you’re going through right now.” He shuffled his feet nervously. “I talked with my older brother, who is a doctor and fills in from time to time in the coroner’s office when they need him.”

  Olivia listened intently, anxious to hear where this was going.

  “He said there haven’t been any—” He hesitated, apparently realizing he needed to choose his words carefully in such a delicate matter. “—victims of any type of boating accident brought in lately. It’s been rather quiet.”

  “Really?” A wave of relie
f coursed through her and tingling reached the tips of her fingers. Deep down she could feel her mother was still alive. Of course, if she was, then where was she? “Thanks, I appreciate you making the effort to look into that for me.” She pondered for a moment as to where that left her. “I hate to ask, but where do I go from here?” She looked into his eyes and estimated he was about her age. Probably just beginning his career in law enforcement, trying to do his best but lacking the experience necessary to help her. At least his heart was in the right place. She appreciated his effort, his good intentions.

  He shifted his eyes toward the pavement. “I . . . I don’t know. I wish I knew what to tell you. You filed a missing persons report, right?”

  “Yeah.” Not that she expected anything to come of it.

  “If I hear anything I could let you know, but I have to be careful. This is my first job and I can’t blow it.”

  “I understand completely, and I wouldn’t want you to jeopardize your job to help me. I certainly appreciate where your heart is. You’re a good man.”

  The rookie cop shifted his stance and blushed.

  Olivia wiggled uncomfortably on the inside at her comment but pressed further. “Let me give you my number in case something does come up that would help me locate my mother.” She wrote her number down on the corner of one of the takeout menus from the glove compartment and tore it off. She had no sooner handed it to him than he disappeared without a sound.

  Sitting still for a moment, she contemplated her next move. Should she be encouraged there were no bodies at the local morgue that needed identifying? Perhaps nothing had washed up yet. Appalled she was thinking of her mother that way, she surmised she had to be realistic. Olivia was no further along than she had been before the rookie cop paid her an unexpected visit. She applauded his efforts, though.

  As Olivia listened to the engine idling, she tried to listen to her gut. Deciding to take a walk back to the waterfront, she cut the engine. Something was pulling her there.