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

  Esteban’s mouth opened with astonishment. “What? What?” He looked away, rose and stood above Fernando. “What are you saying, a murder? The police?”

  Fernando looked back at him intently. “Apparently the guy I was talking to was killed not long after we met at Lila’s. Then your name came up. My mother seems to think that the police suspect either you or me for the murder. That’s all I know. I certainly didn’t do it.”

  Esteban sat back down and leaned his head backward to catch the sun’s rays on his face. “I didn’t kill anyone, Fernando. I mean, that’s ridiculous. Who was this guy, Ricardo? I saw you talking to him but assumed he was a friend. I only met him for a minute or two through you. And that jerk you are dating was with you. What’s his name? Phillip? Well, Phillip didn’t look happy with you talking to Ricardo. He didn’t look happy at all. And the last thing I wanted to do was cause more problems for you, so I went outside and chatted with a friend of mine, walked around La Placita, and had a few beers. And left. That’s why I didn’t hang around, you already had your hands full from what I could see. Plus, the way Phillip treated you the last time I saw you two together, I would have probably said something to him. The last thing I want to do is cause you pain, I can always see you at Lila’s when the asshole isn’t with you.”

  Esteban cusped his hand under Fernando’s chin. “I’m your boomerang, remember? I’ll always be here.”

  Fernando looked away at the ocean to hide the tear that had welled up in his eye. He wanted to believe Esteban’s story. “So, what did you do afterwards then. You should get your story straight for the police.”

  “Story straight? What do you mean? There is no story to tell. After Lila’s I went over to Llorens Torres, the housing project. My grandma lives there.”

  “You stayed at your grandmother’s house that night?” Fernando was still unconvinced.

  “No, she lives in the complex. I went to a party there. I tied up granny’s clothes lines like I saw once in a movie. Like they do in Italy. They put pulley rollers on buildings that are across from each other. Then they lop a long string between the two pulley rollers. That way the people on the second and third floor of buildings can reach out of their windows and put their laundry out. Then they just pull the clothes in when they are dry. Grandma doesn’t have a lot of money so the coin laundry is too expensive. I know all about ropes from the marina, so I fixed up her lines for her. Then all the neighbors saw it, so I’ve been over there almost every day after work for the last month putting up laundry lines between buildings for the neighbors. They love me now so when there is a party I get invited. I left Lila’s, went straight there and partied until morning. Then I went home and crashed. End of story.”

  Fernando considered Esteban’s story. “So that’s why you always have rope with you?” countered Fernando.

  “Well, duh! I’ve put up at least twenty lines in the last few weeks. I get the rope wholesale from the marina and grandma’s friends pay me back for it,” replied Esteban.

  “Well, makes a good alibi, I suppose,” Fernando responded, visibly relieved. The story was entirely plausible. “You should go tell the police, they are looking for you.”

  “Now you have me all upset, Fernando. Hand me one of those Medallas.”

  Fernando handed him a beer and retrieved his own opened beer can from the cooler. “Glad that is settled,” he thought to himself. He glanced back over at Esteban, who was reclining comfortably in the sand. Unlike other gay guys on the beach, Esteban wasn’t wearing a cockring and dressed in a skimpy bikini. He was humbly dressed in long boarder shorts and lying directly on the hot tropical sand. There was nothing fancy, feminine or pretentious about Esteban Arroyo.

  “I really like this guy,” Fernando thought to himself.

  ‹27›

  Alexandra Garcia pulled into the wharf parking lot just as a large luxury yacht was moving away from the dock. A dock hand was busy tossing the heavy spring line into the water, insuring that the rope could be easily retrieved by the deck hand without becoming entangled or possibly entangling someone along the pier.

  She approached the dock hand after he had successfully freed the outgoing yacht from its mooring, and studied the man carefully. He was muscular, five-foot ten, with deep pits marking his otherwise attractive bearded facial features.

  “I’m looking for Esteban Arroyo”, she announced.

  “Oh, that’s me,” the dock hand replied, extending his calloused hand in a firm handshake.

  “Officer Alexandra Vargas, Puerto Rico Police. You called me this morning. Is there somewhere we could talk?”

  Esteban paused briefly. He had been expecting the police officer. After spending the day on the beach yesterday with the drag queens, sunshine and lots of Medallas, Fernando had called Titi to get the police officer’s telephone number and convinced Esteban to call her. Esteban decided to wait until Friday morning to arrange for the meeting. He wanted his wits about him. Like Fernando, he was on holiday vacation until January. He had stopped by the marina to pick up his paycheck. He had been more than happy to lend a hand in freeing the large yacht while waiting for his boss to cut the check. This was the perfect opportunity to get everything sorted out. Still, he was almost panicked by fear. He pointed to the shack where his boss was still busy reviewing timesheets and, if he was lucky, adding a little extra for a holiday bonus.

  “Sure, the boat house has a table for staff use. Over there.” He indicated a small floating house halfway down the marina pier.

  The pair proceeded in the direction he had indicated. Alexandra wasted no time. “Are you familiar with a gentleman named Fernando Amado?” she began.

  “Fernando, yes, I got your number from him.”

  “I see, and how do you know him?” she countered.

  “Well, I know him from La Placita.”

  “You mean Patio de Lila’s. A gay bar.” Alexandra was not prepared to beat around the bush any longer. Her suspects were all gay. It was time to get to the heart of the matter. Dancing around their sexual orientation was counterproductive. Plus, drawing Mr. Arroyo’s attention to his homosexuality might throw him off balance. Alexandra would get to the answers she needed from this interview, or Mr. Arroyo would be taken in for questioning.

  “Yes. And he told me you were looking for me about a murder that happened last week.” Esteban was relieved that he didn’t have to choose between lying and ‘outing’ Fernando.

  Alexandra squinted under the bright sun and flipped through her notebook. “Sunday morning actually.”

  “This is the victim, Ricardo Herger?” she passed a photograph on her cell phone to Esteban. She had easily identified Ricardo Herger from the Capitol Police after Fernando Amado had mentioned the Senator.

  Esteban winced at the photograph. “He looks like that guy that was at Lila’s the other night. He left after Fernando.” Esteban was raised to respect the police. Unlike his fellow countrymen in the metropolitan area, Esteban’s few experiences with the police department had been respectful and nonconfrontational. His father had drilled respect for authority into his head. Esteban didn’t hesitate to answer truthfully.

  “So, you saw him there Saturday night, at Lila’s with Fernando?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you meet Mr. Herger?”

  “For only about two minutes. I just passed by to say ‘hello.’ Plus, I didn’t want to come between him and his friend Phillip.”

  After a few more questions, Esteban described how he had watched Fernando, Phillip and Ricardo from a seat at Sabroso, the bar directly across the street from Lila’s. He described how the three all left separately.

  “Why were you across the street? Were you watching Fernando?”

  “I wouldn’t say watching him. I just saw him and didn’t want to cause him problems with Phillip.”

  “Did you see Ricardo leave La Placita?” Alexandra continued.

  “Yes, I saw him go around the corner up and towards the parking lot.”

&
nbsp; “Did he leave with anyone, or did anyone follow him?”

  Esteban thought carefully. “He was alone. I didn’t see anyone follow him.”

  Alexandra wrote another note in her notebook. “What about Fernando and this Phillip person. Did they leave together?”

  Esteban smiled slightly. “No, Fernando left in his car. I don’t know what happened to Phillip. He was still in the parking lot when I drove off.”

  “What about you?”

  Esteban was prepared for her question. He pulled out a slip of paper. On it was a handwritten list of telephone numbers and names. “Fernando and I expected you would want an alibi. That night I went directly to Llorens Torres after the bar closed. These are all witnesses, friends of mine. They said they would vouch for me. I was at a party with about twenty or thirty people until five or five thirty in the morning.”

  “What time did you arrive at the party?”

  Esteban was prepared for that question as well. “About two thirty in the morning. I went straight from La Placita to Llorens Torres. They had a surprise there for me.” He laughed. “Some of the people I hung clothes lines up for had chipped in and bought me a bottle of Patron. Everybody will tell you when I got there because they gave it to me and I gave everyone shots of Patron until the bottle ran out.”

  He handed her the list of telephone numbers in his hand.

  Alexandra examined the list. Her primary suspect had an alibi. Ricardo Herger had been murdered sometime after 3:00 a.m. His body had been found forty minutes away from La Placita and Llorens Torres. There was no way that Esteban Arroyo could have committed the murders, assuming his alibi checked out.

  She paused. What she had thought would be an open and shut case had suddenly been thrown wide open.

  She began again. If Esteban was not the murderer, the only remaining known links between the victims was Fernando Amado and Phillip Winthrop. In all probability, one of them was the murderer.

  “What do you know about Phillip Winthrop?”

  “He’s from the north, Boston I think, but that is all I know about him.”

  Alexandra grudgingly flipped her notebook to a page marked with a yellow sticky tab. On that page was a neatly handwritten chart labeled “witnesses” and “suspects”. She struck Esteban Arroyo from her suspect list and circled his name on her short witness list, subject to verifying his alibi.

  She then added a name to the empty suspect list. “Phillip Winthrop” was entered just beside her only other suspect, “Fernando Amado”.

  After a few follow-up questions she thanked Esteban for his time and headed back to her car. As she opened the door her cell phone rang.

  “We have another body,” Manuel Quiñones informed her. He was already at the scene.

  It took Alexandra only fifteen minutes to reach the crime scene. The area was already taped off when she arrived. It was located just five minutes past Piñones, in another area known for outdoor sexual activities between men. The murder scene was situated between the dunes that separated the ocean from the highway. It was unpopulated and a desolate location, with palm and grape trees clustering along well-worn footpaths. Those paths wound through the dunes into various openings behind dense underbrush. It was the perfect location to engage in discrete sex – or to commit murder.

  “No identification, no jewelry, no identifying marks. Cause of death appears to be the same as the others.” Manuel Quiñones lifted the crime scene tape to give Alexandra entrance. “The victim is very well dressed. Wearing an Armani suit. This is definitely another Van Dusen murder.”

  Manuel pointed Alexandra to the body. It was located only a quarter of a mile from where Van Dusen’s body had been found. The corpse was dressed in a pinstripe suit and wingtip shoes. He was propped against a banyan tree. White cord still dangled from his neck. A white handkerchief fluttered nearby, caught in another root of the same tree.

  “We need to identify this body asap,” Alexandra instructed Manuel. “Don’t wait for the coroner, that could take all day. Grab his prints and get right on it. Check IAFAS. This is another American. I hope it’s not another millionaire like Van Dusen.”

  “Yes ma’am”, Manuel responded.

  Alexandra’s sharp eyes noted drag marks leading up to the body. The sand along the ocean had been levelled by the sea breezes, but the body was located behind a thick stand of grape trees which shielded the sand from the incessant sea breezes. She could still discern the remnants of two deep gullies which ended with the victim’s shoe heels.

  “This body was moved here and then staged. He was not killed here,” she informed Manuel.

  Manuel nodded in agreement. He had noticed signs of irregularity during the course of his investigation of the crime scene. He was even more impressed at how quickly Alexandra had picked up on the queues. She deserved the position as chief investigator.

  He smiled at her, and as she started to give further instructions, another officer approached her.

  “Detective, you aren’t going to believe this. I needed to take a leak while I was conducting the sweep. I found another body.”

  Alexandra could barely contain her amazement. “Show me.”

  The officer led her further along the beach. About fifty yards away he pointed out the corpse. It was not difficult to locate. The body was visible from the foot path. The killer hadn’t even bothered to hide it in the underbrush. It was splayed out under a copse of banyan leaves in full view of the ocean. This body was only a day or two old.

  And it was another American.

  Alexandra began a cursory review of the body. An American in expensive casual clothing, seated inside of the roots of a banyan tree.

  Another body, and this victim was obviously well off. When the Commissioner found about this, he would hit the fan. Tourist season would begin in earnest after the Christmas break. If word got out that Americans were being murdered, the island stood to lose millions in tourist dollars.

  Right now, though, Alexandra couldn’t be concerned about the tourism industry or its lost revenue. Even though the two victims were just pieces of evidence, they could help close the case. Alexandra took a moment to collect herself before turning to face her colleague. Murder always affected her. The victims had families, and they deserved answers. Puerto Rico deserved closure.

  She would catch this serial killer. She had lost count of the number of victims. It was personal now.

  ‹28›

  Alexandra Vargas flipped over the last paper in her case file. She had read through the case file three times this morning. There was something missing. How had the killer tracked down the victims and enticed them to go to desolate areas? He had presumably promised them sex. But how does one go from partying at La Placita to winding up dead on a deserted beach? Why these victims? One victim was an attractive youth, two were Americans…then there was Ricardo Herger, and then there were the remaining victims who had yet to be identified. And, of course, there was Van Dusen himself. What was the common thread?

  All of the victims had been stripped of valuables and posed in banyan trees. What did the handkerchief signify? Why rope?

  As she pondered these items, her cell phone rang. It was Manuel Quiñones.

  “We have a witness on the Ricardo Herger case. I’m outside of his work right now, it’s a Shell station. Meet me in Dorado. I’m sending you the address.”

  Forty-five minutes later Alexandra Vargas was interviewing a very nervous gas attendant named Mark Aviles. Manual Quiñones had interviewed everyone in the area surrounding the secluded Dorado beach extensively. With the help of a distraught Senator Rios, he had assembled an army of police officers who conducted interviews of anyone within a two-mile radius of the murder scene. Quiñones himself had personally conducted over twenty interviews in the days following the murder.

  Their diligence paid off. The gas attendant confessed that he had witnessed an incident on the morning of Herger’s murder. When he was shown a photograph of Ricardo Herger, he had identified
him as one of the individuals involved in the incident.

  Alexandra began the interview by signaling for Manuel and the witness to be seated on the opposite side of the concrete table she was using as a makeshift interview space.

  “Thank you for your cooperation Mr. Aviles. There is nothing to be nervous about. I’m sure you heard about the murder down on the beach last week.”

  Aviles nodded. “Yes. I didn’t know who it was until the officer there showed me his photograph,” he answered, indicating Manuel Quiñones.

  “Ok, let’s start with the incident. What can you tell me about this incident?”

  The attendant leaned back into his seat, relaxing slightly. “Well, it was late in the morning, I’d say three or four in the morning. This car was sideswiped by another car. He was coming in off the highway, and as he pulled up to the front of the pumps here...” The attendant pointed towards the street. “…another car tried to pass him. It hit the driver side of his car. It is a busy intersection here, that stuff happens all of the time. Nobody else seemed to notice, they were all drunk from the bar over there.”

  “How do you remember this incident, then?” Alexandra knew that witness identification was extremely unreliable. She needed to verify that the attendant correctly recalled Ricardo Herger’s face.

  “Well, because they stood there for a good ten minutes talking. It looked like they knew each other because once the other driver got out, they shook hands. They talked, pulled their cars over there, and then walked towards the beach. I never saw the other driver come back, I got busy. But that dead guy’s car is still parked. It’s the Nissan right over there.” The attendant pointed to Ricardo Herger’s Nissan. It hadn’t been moved since the day of the murder.

  “I remember all this because I was getting ready to have that Nissan towed. I can never find parking here on the boardwalk when it gets busy and that car has been here for a week.”

  Alexandra stared at the attendant for a moment. He was holding something back.

  “Is there anything else Mr. Aviles? It could be important.”