I took a guess as to what time the guards had shift change. I figured I’d find Nicholas heading off home around seven.
At five to seven, I parked on the side of the road around the bend. A one-man stakeout isn’t worth much. If he went in the other direction, I’d miss him. But this was the way to the main street and the moto-taxi and tap-tap routes. It was busy, people heading home from work, coming back from shopping. The people who lived in the big houses drove past in sleek SUVS and expensive sedans. The ones who worked here walked.
I didn’t have long to wait before Nicholas came swaggering down the street. He didn’t have his shotgun. That would have been handed over to the guard taking his place. But Nicholas wore his uniform as if it made him a big man around town.
Maybe it did. A pretty young woman gave him a sideways glance as he passed. He said something I didn’t catch. She blushed and turned away. But she peeked at him from beneath her long lashes.
The sun had dipped behind the hills, but he wore wraparound sunglasses. Good ones too. That was unusual. Sunglasses are a luxury here.
I rolled down my window. “Want a ride?”
He was surprised to see me. Surprise quickly turned to mistrust. “What do you want?”
“Just offering a lift.”
“No.” He kept walking. I stayed in the car. I was in my uniform, and I was armed. But I didn’t want to get into a street brawl. I drove slowly, matching his pace.
“Why did Marie die?” I said.
Nicholas stopped walking. He pushed the cuffs of his shirt back. Checked his expensive watch. “You speak good French,” he said. “But perhaps not good enough. You know how she died. She drowned in the swimming pool.”
“I know what I’m saying. And I think you know the answer. You’re more than just a guard, aren’t you, Nicholas? You work for the family. Or rather, you work for Mr. Hammond.”
“Mr. Hammond is a good boss.”
“So I see.” I gestured to the watch. “Who pays you? Hammond or the American embassy?”
“What do I care?” he said. “As long as I get paid.”
He began to walk again. His pace was slow, confident. I drove along beside him.
“Were you in the house when Hammond belted his son?”
“The boy was crying like a baby. Hammond told him to stop. He wouldn’t.” Nicholas shrugged.
“Did he beat Marie often?”
Nicholas stopped walking. “He did not hit Marie.”
“That’s good to hear. Friends, were you? You and Marie?”
He laughed. “You think I was Marie’s lover? You’re crazy, man. She was married to a rich American. She had good things. Her children were well fed. They went to a good school. She was not interested in me, a security guard.” He spat onto the road.
“Did that bother you?”
“No. I am going to be a rich man one day too. Then I will have a woman like Marie. Better than Marie. She was beautiful. But she was weak. She had no passion in her. No fight.”
“No fight,” I said, more to myself than to Nicholas. “What about the girl? Jeanne-Marie?”
“I have nothing more to say to you. The Haitian police told you to go away. This is not your business. None of it is. What happens in a man’s home is not the business of others.” He broke into a run.
I didn’t try to follow.
A pit had opened in the depths of my stomach.