Murder With A Splash Of Rum: A Puerto Rican Thriller Read online

  “Romantic, no,” laughed Phillip. “He is a nice kid, a little needy, but no we are not a couple” he stated with sideways smile.

  Alexandra smiled tightly and flipped through her notebook. Phillip Winthrop’s account varied greatly from her the testimony of her primary witness, Danny Prieto. The bartender was not a suspect, she had discretely been able to verify that he had been working during the time of at least two of the murders. The bartender had been forthcoming and volunteered valuable information. Danny Prieto was a perfectly credible witness. She had no reason to doubt his allegation that Phillip and Fernando were engaged in a romantic relationship. The individual before her, however, was hiding something. She was absolutely certain of that.

  “You are not from Puerto Rico, are you?” she persisted. She needed the subject to tell another lie to have her suspicions confirmed.

  “No, I’m from Boston,” he replied.

  “And what did you do for employment in Boston?”

  “Nothing. I don’t need to work, my family is quite wealthy,” he smiled, indicating their surroundings.

  “Oh, so this belongs to you?” Alexandra wondered if Phillip could be pegged to an easy lie, or if he indeed had wealthy family to back him. The apartment and its furnishings were far outside of the budget of most ordinary Puerto Ricans, or even most Americans for that matter.

  “Yes, well, technically it belongs to my trust. Not sure what name the trust is under, I’m not a lawyer, but yes, this is all mine.” Phillip smiled again.

  “Crafty fellow” thought Alexandra to herself. He couldn’t be trapped in an outright lie. A property search could yield the name of the owner of the plush condo. However, Winthrop had covered himself with a plausible explanation for any name that might be revealed.

  “You are very fortunate. How long have you been in Puerto Rico,” she continued.

  “I arrive earlier this year,” he volunteered. “Love the island. Care for a drink?” he offered as he approached a glass and chrome bar. Expensive cut crystal sparkled under the overhead lighting.

  “It’s eight o’clock in the morning, Mr. Winthrop. No, thank you.”

  “I’ll help myself.” He grabbed an ornate Waterford goblet and poured himself a scotch. He returned and seated himself on the leather sofa. He was dressed in a large silk smoking jacket. He was wearing silk pajama pants that were rolled up at the ankle, and slightly oversized suede bedroom slippers. He swirled the scotch around in the goblet, and with a flourish took a deep gulp. Everything about Phillip Winthrop seemed slightly off to the Lieutenant.

  “What brought you to Puerto Rico?” she demanded. The time for niceties was passed.

  “I came down with a friend, and stayed,” responded Winthrop. He had dropped his smile in response to the tone of the police officer’s last question.

  “And what is this friend’s name?” she queried.

  “Paul”, Phillip answered.

  “What is his last name? The friend you travelled to Puerto Rico with?” Alexandra’s tone had definitively changed and she was now engaging in a full-blown interrogation.

  “He is a friend of the family. Paul Channing. He is just a travelling companion. What is this all about? You asked about Fernando and now all of a sudden I feel like I am under investigation,” he demanded.

  “I am simply trying to uncover information relating to an investigation I am conducting. Tell me, Mr. Winthrop, where is Mr. Channing at this moment?”

  Phillip shrugged his shoulders. “Probably either in Boston or New York, maybe. He left Puerto Rico a few days ago, and I haven’t talked to him since.”

  The detective pulled out her cell phone and flipped to the photographs of Ricardo Herger and Tony Cotto. She showed them to Phillip.

  “Do you recognize these two individuals?” she inquired.

  Phillip Winthrop glanced at the photographs. “The last one, no. The other one is a friend of Fernando’s, I think.”

  “This friend of Fernando’s, how well do you know him?” She expanded the photograph of Ricardo Herger so that Phillip could it see it clearly.

  “Not at all. Like I said, he is just a friend of Fernando’s, I’ve only met him once”.

  “And you have never seen this individual?”

  Phillip took a second look at Tony Cotto’s picture and shook his head.

  After a few more minutes of questioning, the detective determined that Phillip Winthrop had nothing more to offer. He was unable even to provide her with a description of the conversation between Fernando Amado and Ricardo Herger since it had been conducted in Spanish.

  Alexandra looked into Phillip’s eyes intently. “I am sorry to have taken up your time, Mr. Winthrop. Nice slippers,” she stated, smiling faintly as she gazed down again at the slippers on Phillip’s feet. They were at least two sizes too large. “Do you have phone number where I could reach you?” she asked casually as they walked towards the door.

  “Sure. 617-555-3356.”

  Alexandra scribbled the number onto her pad and thanked Phillip again as he closed the door behind her. Before interviewing Winthrop again, she needed to do some research on him. He was crafty, smart, a liar, and hiding something. Next time she would be prepared. The first thing she intended to do was find out who owned the apartment. The second thing she intended to do was locate Paul Channing and get his side of the story. He was involved, she was sure of it.

  -----О-----

  Two hours later Phillip Winthrop was swishing scotch around in the Waterford goblet he was holding when he heard the sound of a key slipping into the front door of his condo. He placed the drink on his coffee table and walked towards the door. No one else had the keys to his home, he had refused to allow either the security guard or the building’s maintenance staff to have a copy of it. He grabbed a heavy stone urn from the sidetable to use as a weapon and positioned himself beside the door.

  The door opened and Paul Channing entered the apartment.

  “Paul! You scared the life out of me!” he exclaimed.

  Paul Channing entered the apartment and laid his keys on the same sidetable. He stared at Phillip and exhaled heavily.

  “Phillip, sit down.”

  Phillip complied. Channing remained standing.

  “I had to make an emergency trip all the way from Manhattan for this. I had to get up at three a.m. this morning and spend two hours at the airport and another three on the plaint. I’m in no mood. Martin called me and told me what you had done. I can’t allow you to wreck his life or mine like this. I let you stay in the condo here under the proviso that you would get a job and be out on your own. Your behavior is unacceptable. You know that you were never permitted to call either of us at our homes. That is what we bought Eighteen Tremont for, to get away. Both Martin and I have moved on. We are both almost seventy. From this point...”

  “I just want things to be like they were before, the three of us together and happy.” Phillip interrupted.

  “Kid, Eighteen Tremont was in the past. Martin and I had fifteen years together. And there was no ‘us’. You were our houseboy with benefits. It didn’t work out for Martin and me. He’s out of my life, and you have been treated well. We both gave you a substantial amount of money when we broke up. But it has been over a year.”

  Phillip’s face fell. “But we were happy…”

  Paul continued. “It’s time we cut the cord, kid. I’m going to give you five hundred dollars to help you out, but it’s time for you to move on. I can’t allow you to stay in this condo anymore. I’m putting it up for sale, too. I’m sixty-eight years old. I won’t be able to keep up this double life any longer, I’m happy with my grandchildren and the life that I have. I expect you will be out by the end of the day, I’ll pay for a week at the Marriott, but after that you are on your own. You had your chance, you’ve been here for months, but there is no more money headed in your direction. I want you out of my house and out of my life.”

  Phillip stared back at Channing, stunned. His face re
covered composure. “Well, if that’s the case, can I at least have a drink before I go?” Without waiting for permission, he strode across the room to the cocktail bar and refilled the crystal goblet with scotch, not bothering with ice.

  “So, Paul, I guess this is where it ends. But five hundred dollars is a joke. I’m not going anywhere. At least not for five hundred bucks.”

  Paul stared back at Phillip. He slipped his hand into his pocket and approached Phillip Winthrop. He would not allow this young former houseboy to wreck his life. He had too much to lose.

  ‹26›

  Fernando tossed the frisbee and watched it skip across the water at the ocean’s edge. Coco barked happily and ran after it, leaving a cascade of splashing water behind him. He retrieved the frisbee from the small shoreline waves after a few failed attempts, and ran back to Fernando. The dog shook mightily as he nudged the frisbee into Fernand’s hands, hoping his master would toss the frisbee again.

  Fernando laughed and petted Coco. He had decided to come to Pato Beach early this Thursday morning to get away from his mother. Titi had badgered him all night about Detective Vargas’ visit. She had cajoled him, begged him for answers, and had even asked him if he was using drugs. Today was his first day of Christmas vacation and he intended to enjoy it. In fact, he intended to visit the gay beach every day, including Christmas Day, until he had to go back to work the week after next.

  “Why do the police think you are involved?” she had tearfully questioned. “What are you into? You can tell me, I’m your mother no matter what!”

  Fernando had attempted to placate her, swearing repeatedly that he had no idea why the police officer had suggested he was involved in the murders. “Mom, I just happened to have seen that guy in La Placita before he got murdered. I am a witness, I had nothing to do with this. You should know I’m telling the truth, I came straight home at midnight.”

  This morning he had kissed his mother, hugged her, and headed to Condado without breakfast.

  He tossed the frisbee again. Coco yelped with glee, nearly bowling over a swimmer emerging from the waves as he chased his favorite plastic toy across the glinting morning waves.

  Fernando watched from behind, smiling. He sat down in the shallow water’s edge and let the silky warm waves caress his legs. The retreating waves spilled warm sand into his swimming trunks. His shoulders and back tingled under the strengthening sunshine.

  “Fernando.” A voice behind him interrupted the moment of mindless pleasure. He turned to see Phillip approaching.

  “Phillip.” Fernando smiled. He bore no ill will against Phillip. The two had spent very little time together since the night of Ricardo Herger’s murder. Phillip hadn’t shown up to retrieve the $300 the night before. Fernando had waited at Lila’s for two hours, downed a couple of drinks, and then left.

  Fernando had finally admitted to himself that his feelings for Phillip had changed. Phillip Winthrop no longer dominated his thoughts. Instead, he had woken up many times during the last two weeks with the image of Esteban in his head. He had fallen back to sleep each time with erotic dreams of the two curling up in a bed with Esteban’s firm cock planted against his butte cheeks. Fernando had never bottomed for anyone, but since his last meeting with Esteban he couldn’t think of anything else.

  “I saw you while I was hanging out up on the street, thought I would say ‘hello’”, Phillip informed Fernando.

  Coco dashed between the two, shaking a torrent of ocean spray, soaking both Fernando and Phillip. Phillip frowned and wiped his shirt distastefully. Fernando apologized and corralled his dog between his legs. “Sorry about that. Your clothes got wet”.

  “That’s all right. I’m not a dog person. I am getting ready for breakfast, care to join?”

  Fernando declined. The combination of a large breakfast and the warming sun were making him lethargic. He was ready for an early morning nap. He decided not to bring up Phillip’s standing him up the night before. He just wanted to go to sleep on the beach in the sun.

  “I’ll be here all day, though. Come back later and we can hang. I’ve got Medalla!” Fernando volunteered cheerfully.

  “I don’t drink beer, thank you,” Phillip replied curtly.

  “Well, I’ll get some vodka and cranberry from the CVS for you. I’ll get another beach chair for you when you get here. I’ll even splurge and get us an umbrella!” Fernando smiled again, hoping Phillip would take him up on his offer. Even though it was evident to both of them that he and Phillip were not an item, he didn’t want Phillip to harbor any ill feelings toward him. He hoped a leisurely beach day would bring Phillip out of his shell and help lighten the mood. He hadn’t seen Phillip happy since the first night they had first met at Lila’s.

  “Well, I can stop over at your house when I leave here,” volunteered Fernando.”

  “No, I’ll be back. Probably around three or four o’clock. We have a plumbing problem at the condo, I’m staying a hotel for the next few days.” Phillip nodded and walked back towards the stairs that connected the beach to Vendig Street, whisking away the remaining drops of sea water and fur from his shirt front.

  Coco and Fernando splashed around in the cool Caribbean water for several more hours, and were eventually joined by his friends Miquel, Ariel, and Brenda. They were three drag performers who were professional beach bums by day. Their faces still bore marks of encrusted pancake left over from the previous night’s performance.

  “Hello Brenda!” Fernando greeted the closest one with a kiss, wheezing softly from the overpowering floral scent of makeup still clinging to her face.

  “Fernando!” Brenda signaled for three more beach chairs from the far end of the beach. They assembled their chairs all together under an umbrella. As usual, Fernando supplied most of the alcohol and snacks. Drag performances didn’t pay nearly as well as their other nighttime sideline, turning tricks. Turning tricks along the Condado Avenue Extension was risky, but twenty dollars for a hand job and thirty for oral went a long way towards paying rent.

  Half an hour later, as Fernando was opening his third Medalla for the day, a shadow appeared behind him. He noticed Brenda tapping Miquel’s arms and pursing her lips. Miquel responded with a catlike purr. Fernando turned around.

  It was Esteban Arroyo.

  “Hello, Fernando!” Esteban extended his hand and smiled

  Fernando was too shocked to answer. He took Esteban’s hand and shook it feebly while using his other hand to place his opened beer back into his cooler. He hadn’t seen Esteban since the night of the parranda.

  “Um, these are my friends. Miquel, Brenda, and Ariel.”

  “Nice to meet you!” Esteban smiled and took a seat in the sand beside Fernando.

  Fernando had fantasized about Esteban nightly since the first time they met at Lila’s, but then he had learned that Esteban might be involved in the murder of Ricardo Herger. And then Esteban had shown up unannounced at his home.

  Fernando did the only thing he could think of doing in a moment of panic: he produced an unopened bottle of Sambuca from his icebox, opened it, and poured a round of shots for everyone. And then treated himself to a double.

  “Sambuca!” Ariel screamed. The three drag queens giggled and toasted while Esteban looked on with amusement.

  “I am off work today and saw you, thought I would just stop by and say ‘hello’,” Esteban stated. He pulled his shirt off and reclined in the warm sand beside Fernando. His muscled brown chest glistened under the bright Caribbean sun. The sudden revelation of his solid athletic body from beneath the billowy shirt he was wearing caused a ripple of attention across the beach. Gay men in all directions lounging in their beach chairs leaned up and leered at Esteban.

  Fernando noticed the flurry of attention from other beach-goers and suddenly felt self-conscious. “So, Esteban, how are things?” Fernando couldn’t decide whether to be afraid or excited by Esteban’s sudden appearance. He still felt ashamed about the way he had reacted when Esteban had surpri
sed him at the parranda.

  “Good. Working hard, but happy to have work,” Esteban replied.

  “You work with boats, right?” Fernando glanced over at the reclining Esteban, still considering whether he should run away, walk away quickly, or remain in the company of his three friends. He quickly decided that being on a public beach in the company of Brenda, Miquel and Ariel was his safest alternative.

  “Yes, well I tie them up mostly. I secure them when they arrive, check the ropes, check dock flotation, untether the yachts, scrape off barnacles, scrub the deck, you name it.”

  “Oh, that sounds like a hard job.” Fernando couldn’t focus. He rolled to his left and looked at Esteban. He couldn’t resist. He needed to determine if he could see a glint of murder in Esteban’s eyes. Those eyes, now only inches from his face, drew him into their depths. But he didn’t feel himself drowning. Esteban’s eyes enveloped him in a sense of comfort. He felt a deep sense of longing and hope emanating from Esteban. There was nothing hard and cold in those eyes. If eyes are the windows to the soul, Esteban’s soul was a place of repose and reflection.

  Fernando compared Esteban’s eyes to Phillip’s eyes. Phillip’s eyes were hard, ice blue, and cold.

  “Look, I’m sorry for being so mean to you at my house. You just surprised me is all. I am not out to my mother and father,” began Fernando.

  “No. I shouldn’t have come to your house. I was out of line. It’s just that I really like you, dude.” Esteban’s voice was cracked and filled with emotion.

  “I’m the one who should be sorry. I behaved badly. Let’s just forget it. There is something more important you need to know. I have to tell you something, Esteban,” Fernando continued. “Last week I met a guy named Ricardo at Lila’s. You met him, too. He was murdered. The police came by my work and then went to the bar asking about you. They seem to think you had something to do with it. I need to know the truth.” Fernando glanced at the three drag queens who were busy chatting amongst themselves, oblivious to his conversation.