The Empty Chair ~ Murder in the Caribbean

by Penny Goetjen

  “Ol, you’ve been down there for a few days already. This is not about hitting the beach and going out at night like I know you like to do when you’re there.” His voice was stern. “You’d better be taking care of everything you’re supposed to be.” The volume escalated. “Get it done already!”

  Olivia blinked a couple times, tilted her head and bit down hard. She struggled not to react, at least not verbally. Even her eyelashes remained remarkably still.

  “I am.” She left it at that. She was not about to get into any of the loathsome details with him.

  He pushed further. “How much more time do you need?”

  “I don’t know . . .” As anger boiled up inside, her eyelashes fluttered in a blur.

  Silence on the other end. He was clueless as to what was going on.

  “Have you talked with a real estate agent about listing the property?”

  His demanding tone grated on her.

  “Yes.” Her voice was firm. She started off on a loop around the charred rubble, just to keep moving and keep herself on her toes while talking to her father.

  “All right, then. That’s good.” His condescending tone riled her.

  Silently she willed him not to ask any more questions.

  “Yes.” Searching for a way to change the subject, she cleared her throat.

  “What else do you need to do?”

  Olivia needed to get him off the phone.

  “It’s complicated.” She winced, wrinkling her nose. That wasn’t going to fly. “There’s still some paperwork.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Olivia. Do I need to pick up the phone and make things happen? I didn’t want to get involved with all of this.”

  “. . . I’ll handle it.” She spoke deliberately, trying not to sound like she was pleading. He was treating her like a child. She felt like a child. She hated how he made her feel. Her feet kept plodding in a circle around the house.

  “You keep saying that. It’s not happening.” His voice boomed. “Oh, I never should have let you go off and try to handle this yourself.” He mumbled his lasts few words.

  She closed her eyes. “You know how things work down here. Everyone is on island time.” She hoped that would sound familiar to him and jog his memory.

  “Not if I have anything to say about it!” His voice thundered in her ears.

  “Dad, I’ll take care of it. Please.” Her voice quivered. The pleading had begun.

  Silence on the other end. Not even any static. He was thinking.

  “Olivia, let me ask you something.”

  Her eyes grew wide. She dreaded what was going to come out of his mouth next. “What?”

  “Is there a . . . uh . . . a body?”

  She rubbed her forehead with her free hand and clenched her jaw. Her response was barely audible. “No.” How crass could he be?

  Silence again.

  “I see.”

  There was a tapping sound on the other end of the phone.

  “I’ll check back in with you again soon.”

  The click in her ear was a relief. She shoved the phone back into her pocket in exasperation. If only her father would stay out of it. She wished he would leave her be.

  Olivia turned to head back to the familiarity of her mother’s chair but the toe of her shoe caught on something. She looked down to see what was sticking out from under the blackened, splintered boards. It took her a moment to comprehend what she was looking at. The bare foot and partial leg were charred like the mess that covered them.

  Taking a couple steps backward, Olivia’s stomach turned at the sight. Who could it belong to? As nausea crept in, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

  Olivia had seen enough. The grotesque leg protruding out from under the rubble forced unthinkable images of the rest of the body obscured by the charred debris. The discovery further changed the vibe of her mother’s place, as if the fire hadn’t done enough already. Striding toward the Jeep she gritted her teeth, trying to ignore her internal voice urging her to call the police. She knew she couldn’t. She was a wanted woman. Besides, they would find the body eventually. And since he was already dead, there wasn’t any urgency in the matter.

  Glancing back to the blackened pile that stood in place of her mother’s home, she almost expected to see a delicate wisp of smoke rising silently from the middle of the fallen structure. The refrigerator standing erect on the gallery side of the home put a smile on Olivia’s face, though. There was something oddly amusing about it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The shops downtown enticed shoppers inside by leaving their front doors wide open allowing air-conditioning to spill out onto the sidewalk, and sun-parched passersby got a refreshing blast on a hot and steamy tropical day. They catered mostly to the tourists, but Olivia stopped into a small boutique she had previously visited and located a sale rack near the back. Pleased to be able to pick up a couple of shirts, a pair of capris, and a couple pairs of shorts close enough to her taste, she located the checkout and stood behind two middle-aged women with a pile of clothing on the counter. One was excitedly chatting, not seeming to notice the other was preoccupied with her cell. They were both clutching the same tote bag, sporting the name of their cruise ship, as well as multiple shopping bags from other stores. Midway through their transaction, one of the ladies stopped the clerk and asked about the availability of an item in a different color. To Olivia’s dismay, the clerk promptly rounded the counter and bounded toward a far flung corner of the store with the cruise ship ladies in tow.

  Tilting her head, she let out a long sigh in frustration. Island time. Acknowledging she had no particular place to get to, she willed herself to dig deep and find patience. Waiting for the clerk to finish with the other customers, Olivia’s thoughts crept back to the gruesome sight of the foot sticking out from under the rubble. Guilty pangs for leaving the unidentified body behind had her considering how she could inform the police without them knowing it was her. She wondered if the corpse would provide any clues to help them find who had set the fire.

  From the opposite corner of the store, the clerk asked if she wanted to try on the garments in her arms. Olivia recognized the woman was trying to buy herself some time while she assisted the other customers, but Olivia declined the offer.

  Glancing at the garments lying on the counter, she spied a cell left by one of the ladies infatuated by the number of colors a particular shirt came in. Without giving much consideration to possible outcomes, Olivia snatched the phone and tucked it under her arm. Calling across the small store she told the sales clerk she had changed her mind and was going to try on the clothes.

  Once inside the dressing room, she quickly dialed the police, cupping a hand around her mouth and speaking into her pile of clothes to prevent the other three woman from hearing her. A female police officer answered with a thick island accent. Listening closely to see if it was Barnes, Olivia smiled as she pictured how infuriated she would be if it was her. She kept her call brief and to the point.

  “Seems you missed something at the fire last night.”

  “Who is this and where are you calling from?” the policewoman snapped, sounding rattled.

  “That doesn’t really matter. The point is there’s a body under the rubble.”

  “What rubble? Who is this?” she demanded with a tone of indignation.

  Olivia grinned. It was Barnes. “Better tell the investigators to go have another look.”

  Click. She continued to enjoy the moment as she imagined the look on the officer’s face at the sound of the click in her ear. Peeking out from the changing room, Olivia could see the three ladies turning to head back to the checkout. She hurried to get there first and slipped the phone under the clothes they had left on the counter. Sizing up Olivia with suspicious eyes, the two cruise ship ladies returned to their spot next to her while the clerk rounded the counter and resumed their transaction. Olivia glared back at them. Once they were finished, Olivia purchased her selections
and quickly exited into the alleyway, practically bumping into the two ladies. Not having progressed very far, they were only at the next store window, chatting and pointing to paintings in the window. It was the gallery where Olivia’s mother’s work was on display.

  By early afternoon, the heat and humidity were trying her patience. She made a quick stop to pick up a bite at a popular sandwich place tucked into another of the narrow alleyways. On the way back to her car, raindrops kissed her skin as a light shower passed quickly through. Slipping into the driver’s seat, she remembered she still needed to pick up some groceries. Not her favorite kind of shopping, but necessary nonetheless.

  Reaching the food store in a matter of minutes, Olivia parked the Jeep in one of the parking slots with the faded lines and crumbling asphalt. Walking deliberately toward the front door, stepping around potholes, she could sense people hanging around the entrance like they had nothing better to do, and she kept her eyes averted as she walked in. After grabbing one of the handheld baskets, she traipsed up and down a few aisles, gathering basics she would need over the next couple of days. Or would it be longer than that? Who knew? Before stepping to the end of the shortest checkout line, she stopped to consider getting something for Colton as a sort of thank-you-for-letting-me-stay-at-your-place-even-though-I-treated-you-like-crap gift. She redirected her steps over to the alcohol section, taking a moment to peruse the wines and hard alcohol. Finally she chose a large bottle of coconut rum for him and a bottle of Chardonnay for her, amazed at how cheap the rum was since it didn’t have to be imported.

  After a relatively uneventful checkout, she returned to the parking lot. Just as she reached the Jeep, her pocket vibrated. “Oh, shit!” she bemoaned, figuring it was her father again.

  She dropped the bags next to the car and retrieved her phone, fully expecting to just ignore the call, but it wasn’t a number she recognized. The area code was 340. The U.S. Virgin Islands. She answered it.

  “Hello?”

  “Miss Benning?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Lieutenant Woods of the United States Coast Guard.”

  She closed her eyes, afraid of what his next words were going to be.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  A painful jab shot though Olivia’s stomach. She pressed her free hand against her mouth for a moment to contain the subtle groan building inside of her. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

  “Ma’am, you need to come down to the station. We have a . . . uh . . . a . . . ma’am there is a . . . a body that has washed up on the eastern end of the island. We were called out to assist in the retrieval. It hadn’t technically reached land, so we launched a rescue boat and retrieved it.” He hesitated as if waiting to see if she would respond in some way to indicate she understood what he was relaying to her. “Can you stop by? Are you very far away? Do you need a ride?”

  Olivia stood motionless in the hot summer sun, her phone pressed to the side of her face. His words echoed through her head. As she tried to make sense of them, an unintelligible sound emerged from her throat.

  “Ma’am? Excuse me?”

  Her mouth was dry. “I’ll . . .” She swallowed hard. “I’ll be right there.”

  Her peripheral vision became fuzzy. Numbness crept slowly through her body. Moving through the motions of loading the grocery bags in the backseat, she climbed into the driver’s seat and fired up the engine. Distracted by the onerous news that awaited her, she drove to the Coast Guard station, just up the road on Waterfront Highway, not paying particular attention to the vehicles or pedestrians near her. Somehow she navigated successfully around them. As she pulled into the entrance the chain link gate slid to the right. Easily she found a parking spot in the small lot to tuck the Jeep into and walked toward the front door.

  Upon entering the station, she barely noticed the cool air that brushed her face. Instead she focused on Lieutenant Woods, who strutted toward her with heels clicking on the linoleum floor. As he neared, it struck her that his call may have been merely a guise to draw her in so the island police could arrest her.

  “Miss Benning, thanks for coming.”

  Thanks for coming? Quite cordial, even for the United States Coast Guard. Apparently there was no direct line of communication between them and the police department. She was temporarily off the hook but they would catch up to her at some point.

  “I’m sorry to have to bring you in here, but I think you need to take a look.”

  Olivia’s eyes got wide. Take a look? What was he expecting her to do?

  “Excuse me?”

  “The morgue is actually over at the hospital, but I can take you and you can identify—”

  “Identify?”

  “Yes. They will need you to make a positive identification.”

  Olivia took a deep breath. It was a lot to take in at once.

  She looked into his eyes. “I don’t know that I can.” Her voice was low and raspy as if she was talking to herself. She took a step backward away from him and what he was asking her to do.

  His face was solemn, yet stern.

  She stared through a window across the room and shook her head in defiance.

  “We need you to try,” he urged her gently.

  A sick feeling crept into her stomach. She couldn’t believe it was all coming to this. Looked like her father would get his wish for her to wrap things up quickly.

  Before she knew it, she was whisked into a government vehicle for the short ride to the hospital. It was a standard-issue black sport utility vehicle. Not a full-sized Suburban but probably something along the lines of a Yukon.

  The light pink façade of the hospital was all too familiar. It was the last thing she saw before she made her escape. Following the lieutenant toward the same side entrance she had used as an exit, Olivia was relieved to see they were entering the building inconspicuously. The lieutenant retrieved a key from his pants pocket she surmised not too many people were privy to possess. After he swiftly opened the door and held it for her, he removed his aviator sunglasses and slipped them into his shirt pocket. Olivia walked next to him down a long hallway before reaching a series of doors on the first floor. Woods tapped four distinct times on the third door and took a step backward as it opened. They were greeted by a large black man in green scrubs, a white shower-cap-looking elastic rimmed cap on his head, and some sort of a microphone hanging from his right ear that curved around his jaw, the end of which was hovering near his mouth.

  The two men exchanged a few words. The coroner glanced over the lieutenant’s shoulder at Olivia while they conversed.

  Her small frame shivered uncontrollably. She grabbed an errant strand of blonde wavy hair and tucked it behind one ear. Desperately trying to stand tall and be strong, she followed the lieutenant into the darkened room while the man in scrubs stood back and held the door open for them. The air was cool with a pungent odor of something sour mixed with some sort of antiseptic. She wrinkled her nose in response.

  It was a relatively small room with a large metal posable light hanging over a single metal examining table in the middle. Olivia was grateful the table was empty. Rows of fluorescent lights in the ceiling had been dimmed, giving the room a strange glow. A grid of metal drawers ran along the wall opposite the door. The lieutenant took a position on the right side of the room as though he was trying to be unobtrusive. Olivia came to a stop next to the examining table, taking a second glance to confirm it was empty.

  No one spoke as the coroner walked silently toward the large metal drawers. He took hold of a handle located in the middle of the wall and then froze. He turned to Olivia.

  “Ma’am. You’ve probably never had to do this before. I have to warn you. This, uh . . .” He paused and cleared his throat as if he was struggling to find the right words.

  Olivia searched his face.

  “Uh, ma’am, you . . .”

  Clearly the big burly ME was less comfortable dealing with the living than the dead.

  “Doctor, I k
now what I am about to see will be none other than horrifying. I wish it didn’t need to happen, but I think I’m the only person on the island right now who can ID her.”

  He raised his eyebrows, obviously taken aback by her directness.

  “All right, then.” He turned back toward the drawer and pulled on the handle. The sound of metal scraping on metal brought into view the outlines of a body shrouded in a white covering.

  Olivia stepped tentatively closer. Her mouth felt dry and her breathing was shallow.

  The coroner took hold of the top edge of the sheet nearest the wall and turned to her again.

  “Ready?”

  “Sure,” she murmured, her legs twitching in anticipation.

  Slowly he pulled the sheet down to reveal just the head of a woman with stringy blonde hair plastered to the sides of her head. Her skin was a sickening chalky white with pink blotches on her cheeks.

  Olivia stared in horror but took a couple more steps closer to the body. Her wide eyes fixated on the pale, seemingly rigid body.

  The two men looked to her for confirmation.

  She blinked hard a couple times. Her jaws ached from clenching her teeth hard.

  They gave her a moment to take in the grotesqueness of the body.

  “It’s not her.” Her voice was barely audible. She closed her eyes in relief.

  Olivia could understand why they might speculate the body was her mother, but obviously they didn’t know her like she did. The only resemblance, and it was a stretch to make any kind of connection, was the color of her hair. She felt sorry for the unknown woman and her family and friends who had not yet received word of her fate.

  The man in scrubs looked into Olivia’s eyes and spoke gently. “The body has been in the water. That affects the way it looks. It’s . . .” He seemed to be searching for the right words again. “Puffier than normal. And more . . . pale, too.”

  “How long was she in the water?”

  “Taking into consideration the condition of her skin and the water temperature here among other factors . . . probably two to three days.”