Encouraged by the identification of both signatures, Detective Hodge and Sergeant Detree left as quickly as they had arrived. When pressed by Henry about when they might be able to retrieve some of the Keatings’ personal belongings, Hodge was noncommittal.
“Crime doesn’t conform to a timeline, Mr. Whitman,” Hodge said as Henry shut the door behind them.
Sabrina suggested that everyone change into the outfits they had taken from lost and found and give her their own outfits to have laundered. Only Paul and Sean had had their cell phones with them when the police had steered them away from the beach after Elena’s body had been recovered. Henry left Paul a spare charger so they could recharge their phones and stay in touch.
With Sean still sleeping, Sabrina and Henry said goodnight to the remainder of the group, who they left speculating over whether the signatures they had been asked to identify had been on the last page of the prenup.
“Dear God, will this day ever end?” Sabrina said as she got into the passenger seat of the van.
“Not yet. Neil wants us to come to Bar None to talk through some of what’s happened,” Henry said.
“What has happened, Henry?” Sabrina asked.
“A major debacle that is all on me, that’s what’s happened,” Henry said without hesitation.
“Oh come on, now. You can’t take the blame for Elena getting killed.”
“No, but I set the stage for Ten Villas to be part of this train wreck. I was so sure it would be good for us. Talk about blind ambition.” Sabrina noticed how he slowed the van as they drove along the curve on Centerline Road where Larry had died. Was it just last night?
“Then there’s this,” Henry said, handing Sabrina a crumpled piece of paper. She clicked the flashlight app on her phone and read the message from David.
“When did you get this?”
“When I dropped Gavin off at the Westin, he noticed it under the windshield. Jerk.”
“Who? David or Gavin?” Sabrina asked.
“Both.” Henry laughed.
“Why didn’t David just call or text you? Why so mysterious?”
“I blocked his number after he called a couple of months ago when he heard about the murder at Villa Mascarpone. He was so ‘concerned’ about me, but not concerned enough to leave his wife,” Henry said as they entered the near empty streets of Cruz Bay.
“What are you going to do?” Sabrina asked, thinking David’s timing couldn’t have been worse if he was hoping to rekindle his relationship with Henry. She could see how guilty Henry was feeling about insisting they take on Villa Nirvana. He probably wouldn’t be receptive to taking new risks in an old relationship that had almost taken him down.
David’s betrayal of Henry somehow seemed worse than Ben’s infidelity to Sabrina. Ben was just a pig taking another woman to bed, albeit their bed. But David had lied when asked by the airlines if he was being sexually harassed by Henry, or at least he hadn’t been firm in denying such. Henry took the fall for “inappropriate and unprofessional behavior toward his superior,” that being his pilot, David. David, who had been his lover for more than a year and who had romped and played with him while on layovers throughout the Caribbean, was all of a sudden concerned about hurting his wife, and, more importantly, losing his big fat airline pension. Henry had gotten away with his pension and a settlement from a discrimination claim he lodged against the airlines for sexual harassment by his superior. Allied Air had settled in exchange for a pledge of confidentiality. Excoriated by the experience, Henry gladly pledged his silence.
David had repented, calling and writing to Henry many times, Sabrina knew. Henry never accepted David’s apologies. “None of it means anything if he’s still with his wife,” he told Sabrina. She couldn’t disagree, but her heart broke for him each time the wound was reopened.
“Will you go see him?” Sabrina asked as they pulled into an empty parking space near Bar None, the availability of which was a sign of just how late it was.
“I don’t know,” Henry said grimly.
A bartender Sabrina didn’t recognize was wiping down the bar where a couple of late stragglers were sitting, nursing their drinks. Before she could ask for Neil, he came up behind her, placing his hand at the base of her spine.
“Hey Salty, Henry. What can I get you? You guys have had quite the day.” Neil motioned for Mark to come take orders after introducing him to Henry and Sabrina.
Sabrina opted for a lemon drop, having suffered through almost an entire day without a single lemon. Henry ordered a double Johnny Walker Blue on the rocks, a sign that he was channeling his very serious father, Sabrina knew from experience.
They took their drinks into a corner booth that had been converted into an office of sorts for Neil, who dropped rattan shades for privacy.
“Are you guys hungry? I can have Mark throw on a couple of burgers,” Neil offered.
“God no, we just ingested the entire wedding feast up at Bella Vista,” Henry said, taking a sip of his scotch.
“How’s it going up there? Is Sean beginning to grasp what’s happened?”
“Yes. At sunset, when he should have been getting married, he lost it. I think it finally hit him that Elena was gone forever,” Sabrina said.
“Tough. Cassie hit that point last night at the clinic when they finally cleaned Larry up enough to let her see him to say good-bye,” Neil said.
Sabrina could see how difficult that must have been for Neil, who seemed to cope with life’s challenges by coming up with ways to beat them. Larry and Elena’s deaths were challenges that no one could beat.
“We did learn some information that might be useful,” Sabrina said, wanting to inject an iota of optimism into the conversation.
“Good, because I learned some information that I think you ought to be concerned about,” Neil said.
Henry looked up. Sabrina sensed his concern, which heightened her own.
“What’s that?” Henry asked.
“When I got tossed from Nirvana by that asshole Hodge, I decided to give Lee a call and find out what’s with Hodge,” Neil said.
Lee was Leon Janquar, the police detective Sabrina had come to cordial terms with and had hoped would be dispatched to Villa Nirvana when she called. Neil and Lee enjoyed a mutual respect and camaraderie.
“And?” Sabrina asked, knowing what was coming wasn’t good.
“This is strictly on the QT. Lee stuck out his neck sharing this with me. It seems Detective Hodge is a pretty ambitious guy and is taking advantage of Lee being out for a month for knee surgery. Hodge has been under fire after an investigation into police misconduct in the Virgin Islands. It seems the men under Hodge have a propensity for violence,” Neil said, taking a moment to holler over to Mark to bring him a Guinness.
“He’s pretty nasty, even to Lucy Detree,” Henry noted. Sabrina was grateful she wasn’t the only one who’d witnessed how Hodge treated Lucy earlier in the evening. After her experience in Nantucket when the police had bullied her before she had hired an attorney, Sabrina could never tell if she was overreacting to cops. But she had seen a public service announcement on local television recently that gave detailed instructions about how to file a complaint against a Virgin Island police officer for misconduct, so she knew the department was in trouble.
Neil took a swig out of the bottle of Guinness, his favorite, which Sabrina kept stocked in her refrigerator for their relaxing nights on her porch.
“Well, apparently he has a hair across his ass about Ten Villas and especially you, Salty. He didn’t like it that you managed to turn the murder out at Villa Mascarpone around and got a certificate of heroism from the department. And he thinks you got away with murder on Nantucket.”
Sabrina treasured her certificate, which had been personally given to her by Lee Janquar. She bit back an unladylike comment and kept listening while Neil continued with the bad news.
“There’s no way he can pin Elena’s death on Sabrina,” Henry said with conviction.
“No, that’s not his angle. He’s going to go after your Ten Villa’s real estate broker’s license. He’s saying you don’t know how to protect the public and that you place them in jeopardy by using poor judgment. Two murders at your villas in three months is his proof. He’s also going to enlist the press in his attack, including that barracuda Faith Chase,” Neil said.
“That is just so unfair!” Sabrina realized as she said it how ridiculous that sounded. When had anything in recent years been anything but unfair?
“We better set this story straight quickly then,” Henry said.
“Yes, the sooner the better. You need to show that Elena’s death has nothing to do with the villa’s management and everything to do with whoever was motivated to kill her and why,” Neil agreed. “The story starts with Elena. What do we know about her?”
Sabrina shared with Henry and Neil what she’d learned about Elena’s background, and Henry reported on his ride with Gavin.
“Good work, Salty. I’ll make a couple of calls about Elena in the morning. I know a couple of lawyers up in the Boston area who should be able to help with the Harvard and Babson connections,” Neil said.
“Maybe someone should check out her history in San Juan at the caserio. I could try to go over tomorrow.”
“Not without playing into Hodge’s hand, Henry. You were told not to go off island, remember?” Neil asked. “I could go, but I’d need to fly. I’ve got two bartenders out right now. A boat would take too long. I’d wait until Monday to be sure government offices were open,” Neil said.
“You won’t get in trouble for doing this, Neil?” Sabrina asked. She remembered Hodge’s foreboding words about practicing law without a license.
“Hell no, Salty. I’ve got every right to go to San Juan and look information up. But thanks for watching my back. This would be a lot easier if Larry were still around. We could hop over in his seaplane and be back in a couple of hours,” Neil sighed, taking the last draw of his beer.
Sabrina toyed with the lemon slice now sitting at the bottom of her empty glass.
“Would Cassie be willing to rent the seaplane?” she asked, looking over at Henry.
“Sure, but who’s going to fly it? No one on the island that I know has a pilot’s license,” Neil said.
“Unfortunately, someone I know does.” Henry raised his glass in a mock toast.