Murder With A Splash Of Rum: A Puerto Rican Thriller Page 16

  The attendant looked at her sheepishly. “Well, I don’t want to say anything bad without proof, but it looked to me like the other guy was trying to sideswipe this guy in the Nissan intentionally.”

  Alexandra considered his statement for a moment. “Can you explain that?”

  The attendant nodded. “There was plenty of room, and that other car sped up as the Nissan pulled in. He veered into the Nissan, I don’t think it was an accident.”

  Alexandra took more notes and then responded. “Thank you for your honesty. So, they knew each other. Can you describe the other driver?” Alexandra was hoping against hope that this witness would finally connect the dots for her.

  “Sure. He was in twenties, attractive, blonde hair. He looked from here like he might have been a tourist.”

  Alexandra’s cell phone rang just as this information was sinking in. She held her finger up to silence Aviles. The voice on the other line was the other rookie police officer who had been on her team since she took over after the incident with Garcia.

  “Officer Vargas. Pablo Desoto here. You asked me to research the name on a condo title. I have it here.”

  Alexandra pulled out her pen and notebook.

  “Edificio Hoyt, 1104 Magdalena, San Juan, Unit Three. Belongs to Paul Channing, resident of New York City, NY, United States.”

  “Thank you, detective.” Alexandra then flipped open her notebook again to the yellow tab, and circled a name in the suspect list.

  “Got you,” she whispered.

  ‹29›

  Fernando reclined against his beach chair and reached for a can of Medalla, smiling as he sipped the cool liquid. He was surrounded by friends against a backdrop of tropical splendor. Pato Beach wasn’t Puerto Rico’s best beach by any means. But it was the gay beach. It was where Fernando was happiest.

  His ice box was filled with fruit, vodka, beer, and a few mixers. He always brought extra food to the beach since most of his friends weren’t employed. Being able to offer snacks and free alcohol was as much of a treat for him as it was for them, particularly for the three drag queens. It also made him very popular.

  “Fernando, do you have any more Sambuca?” Ariel was hooked on the sweet Greek liqueur. She clumsily dropped into the hot sand beside him with a smile. They had been dancing and drinking for hours on the beach, and it was showing. Everyone was getting a little sloppy.

  Fernando shrugged. Ariel had finished up the bottle earlier. He offered her a capful of rum which she eagerly accepted. He scanned the small group circled around their beach chairs. Brenda, the unofficial mayor of the beach, was slumped over nursing her sixth drink. Miquel had brought her sound system, a battery powered boom box on wheels. She was twirling and flicking sand into the air with theatrical kicks. The beach was the perfect daytime stage for the three dizzy drag sisters.

  Fernando rolled back into his chair, and closed his eyes. He had enjoyed a romantic evening on the beach the night before with Esteban. They had invited the three drag sisters to dinner, and the five had enjoyed a two-hour dinner and Mai Tais at a nearby Chinese restaurant. Because Esteban didn’t have a telephone, the two had promised to meet each other tonight at Patio de Lila.

  Last night he had gone to sleep dreaming about Esteban’s chiseled hard body and dark intoxicating eyes. This morning he had awakened to the same dream. He had rushed through breakfast and left his house in the early morning sun to the sound of chirping birds under a cloudless sky. It would be another spectacular beach day.

  He took another gulp of Medalla. A shadow fell over his face. He opened his eyes to see Phillip Winthrop hovering over him. Fernando wasn’t surprised. Phillip hadn’t returned yesterday as he promised, which was just as well. The evening with Esteban had turned out to be one of the most magical of his life.

  “Welcome back. Want a chair?” Fernando rose up from his reclined position and started to signal for another chair.

  “No, I can sit here with you a bit. I don’t want to spend a lot of time in the sun, I’m not dark skinned like you,” replied Phillip.

  “Sure.” Fernando spread his legs and allowed Phillip to slip between his feet.

  As Phillip seated himself at the bottom of Fernando’s chair. He reached into the icebox and shuffled around until he found the vodka and cranberry juice. He poured himself a drink and then reached for the diced pineapples in a Tupperware container which Fernando had cut up earlier.

  “Told you yesterday I would get vodka cranberry,” Fernando beamed.

  “Thanks”. Phillip stuffed a pineapple chunk into his mouth and gazed down the beach.

  Fernando suddenly remembered that he hadn’t told Phillip about the police officer’s visit. He was enjoying the afternoon and didn’t want to bring up unpleasant thoughts. But he had an obligation to update Phillip about the troubling events which had swirled around him for the past few days.

  “Hey, Phillip, do you remember that guy we met at Lila’s a few days ago? Ricardo?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “The one who wanted to meet the owner of my warehouse. He worked in the Capitol Building.”

  Phillip rose and walked towards the ocean. “No, I really don’t remember him.”

  Fernando started to speak again but Phillip interrupted him. “Let’s go for a swim.”

  Fernando rose and the two waded into the ocean with drinks in hand.

  “Anyway, guess what, they found him dead.” Fernando started to mention that Esteban was a suspect, and then thought better of it.

  “Really? What happened to him?” Phillip queried as he took a sip from the red plastic cup in his hand.

  “Murdered. That night. Can you believe it? You and I were some of the last people to see him alive. I think the police woman that came to see me at work suspects I had something to do with it.”

  Phillip’s eyebrow shot up. “You? Why?”

  “Well, I was one of the last people to see him. And they found my number in his pocket,” replied Fernando.

  “Your number. How did he get your number?” asked Phillip. His head cocked to one side, and he turned his gaze towards Fernando.

  “I gave it to him. Remember, he wanted to meet the owner of my warehouse.” Fernando grimaced, recalling that he had given Ricardo his number without Phillip knowing it. He had never cheated on Phillip, but he understood how it could be misinterpreted. “You probably didn’t understand the conversation, it was in Spanish. I just wanted to introduce him to the warehouse owner. You were there that night. He was totally not my type, Phillip,” Fernando laughed.

  Phillip’s eyebrows raised and lowered, and raised again. He made an odd sound in his throat and his mouth contorted, as if an internal monologue was going on and playing itself across his face. He glared at Fernando. His blue eyes had turned grey under the afternoon sun. Despite the tropical heat, Fernando shivered under Phillip’s stare.

  “Well, you shouldn’t be giving your numbers out to strangers,” replied Phillip. His smile had faded. Then, as if remembering, he recaptured his smile. His eyes were still grey, however. The steel blue which had drawn Fernando into them when they first met had completely disappeared. “Say, want to go to Luquillo? We can stop by Ely’s. You live out that way don’t you? It’s getting late here anyway.”

  “Ah, let’s stay here. We have everything we need and it has been a long day, plus I have already been here since this morning, I should go home and shower.” Fernando smiled brightly, hoping Phillip would stay so that he could massage over any ill will about giving the number to Ricardo. It had obviously affected Phillip. Fernando didn’t want his feelings to be hurt.

  “Well, I was going to wait until we got there to surprise you, but I can tell you now,” Phillip responded.

  “Tell me what? I love surprises.”

  Phillip signaled him to return to the beach chair. “My dad and I reconciled. He was very apologetic. He knows that I should not have been treated this way. In fact, he bought me another beach house in Luquillo. I
wanted to show it to you. It’s beautiful, has a view of the lagoon and a swimming pool. Private parking, all high end. It’s very expensive. It’s far outside of the budget of most of these people.” His voice dripped with disdain as indicated the beach goers around them.

  Fernando dreaded the thought of spending more time on the beach at Luquillo. He was happy in his beach chair, and needed to rest up to meet Esteban at Lila’s later that night. But Phillip was making it clear that he would not accept ‘no’ for an answer. He was already gathering debris and folding up the beach towels.

  Fernando had given out his number to another man and hidden that fact from Phillip. In truth, he did feel a little guilty. Fernando relented. His house was only ten minutes away from Luquillo, he could stop by and return home without being too late for his date with Esteban.

  “Sure, I was heading out anyway. I just need to drop Coco off at the house.”

  “Well, you live in bumfuck Egypt don’t you, miles out of the way. Just bring him along. He can stay in your car, can’t he? Just crack the widows. I can follow you in mine.”

  Fernando started to insist, and then he remembered what was waiting for him at home. He didn’t want to face Titi again until she had settled down a bit. He hadn’t told her about meeting Esteban yesterday. Avoiding her was at the top of his priorities.

  “Sure. He’ll be find. Okay, let me tell the three sisters here I’m leaving. I guess we are going to Luquillo!”

  Fernando signaled Brenda, Miquel, and Ariel over to his chair.

  “We are heading out. Going to Luquillo to see Phillip’s new beach house. Here is the rest of the vodka.” He pulled out a bottle of the cheap Skaya vodka he’d purchased earlier and handed it to the three eager drag queens.

  “Thank you, Fernando!” Miquel chirped. Fernando smiled and turned to leave.

  Ariel was busy making googoo eyes at Phillip, who had stayed in the background. She sauntered over to him and coyishly blinked her eyelashes. Her eyelashes were still heavily matted from the mascara she had applied the night before. Phillip pursed his lips in disapproval.

  Undissuaded, Ariel purred and continued flirting. Her eyes caught Phillip’s hand.

  “Ah, that’s gorgeous. Let me see it!” She grabbed his left hand and examined a ring he was sporting on his middle finger. It was a large gold signet ring engraved with the initials “JH”.

  “Oooh, what is ‘JH’ for?” she cooed.

  “John Harvard. My family is legacy at Harvard. Fernando! Let’s go!”

  He yanked his hand away from Ariel and marched towards Vendig Street.

  Fernando dutifully followed behind, leaving Ariel cooing in the background.

  ‹30›

  Alexandra Vargas strummed her desk forcefully with her fingers. It was the Friday morning before the Christmas holiday. Everyone except the desk sergeant had gone home, leaving her alone in her office. She was close to solving the Van Dusen murders. She was certain the blonde American with Ricardo Herger had been Phillip Winthrop. His relationship with Paul Channing needed explaining. She had tried to locate Winthrop the night before and bring him in for questioning but had been unable to locate him. He hadn’t returned to his condo the entire night. As a lowly detective, she didn’t have the authority to order a stake out. She had stayed outside the condo until one a.m. when sleep deprivation had forced her to return home. Manuel volunteered to man the stake out overnight, to no avail. So far, there had been of sign of Phillip Winthrop.

  She needed to locate him before he committed another murder. She was convinced he was the guilty party. She had woken at six a.m. and had been unable to go back to sleep. Finally, she gave up and spent the morning reviewing her casefile for clues as to Winthrop’s possible location before heading into the office at seven.

  She stared at her notebook and strummed her fingers again.

  “Morning, detective” A cheerful pudgy desk officer named Carlos Suarez waved in her direction as he sorted through a stack of mail. “Going for a promotion?” he chided. Carlos always arrived before the morning shift to make coffee for everyone and deliver the interoffice mail. He had a very unhappy home life, and was unashamed to admit that the office provided him with a reprieve from the demands of a high maintenance spouse. He would probably spend the Christmas holiday in the office alongside Alexandra.

  “No, just trying to tie up loose ends.” Alexandra smiled back.

  “Oh, here is something for you.” He handed her a manila interoffice envelope bearing her name.

  Alexandra placed the envelope on her desk, and continued to strum her fingers. Her eyes had become blurry from reading and re-reading the case file splayed out in front of her all morning. She had looked at the crime scene photos until they were seared in her mind. She believed she could tie Phillip Winthrop to the Herger murder, but her mind was weary and her shoulders ached. She needed one piece of hard evidence before she could approach Padilla and request an APB on Winthrop.

  She shook off the sleepiness and decided to take a break from the case file and photos. It was only eight a.m. and she felt like she had been working a full day already. She grabbed the envelope Carlos had handed her and opened it. It contained two IAFIS reports.

  She had been waiting for fingerprints to identify the latest two unidentified American victims.

  She perused the two reports. The first report was straightforward. The victim had been identified through the Department of Justice. He had apparently been a junior attorney for the civil rights division in the early nineteen eighties. His fingerprints were still on file.

  She opened the report and studied the information:

  “IDENTITY: Martin Friedman, 42 Tappan St., Brookline, MA

  AGE: 67….”

  She continued reading. The victim was a noted lawyer from Massachusetts, married.

  The second report was not as straightforward. That report bore the identifier “FINRA” as marking the source of the fingerprint match. Fingerprint matches are derived from many sources. Most are from police department records, some come from the Child ID program, others from TSA. This was the first time she had received a match from the Securities Exchange Commission, specifically the Financial Industry Regulatory Authority.

  She perused the sheet. The victim had registered as a securities broker decades ago. Age 68, residence NYC, NY. The victim’s name was Paul Channing.

  Alexandra’s eyes widened as she flipped backward through her spiral notebook. Paul Channing was the owner of the condo purportedly owned by Phillip Winthrop.

  She laid down the report and holstered her pistol and grabbed a set of handcuffs. As she snapped her pistol holder closed she saw an email notification alerting her to a high priority message.

  It was an email response from Deputy Superintendent O’Sullivan of the Boston Police Department. She had forwarded him the Snapchat photograph Fernando had taken of Philip Winthrop on the night of the Herger murder and had requested a background check on Winthrop. The Boston Police Department, according to O’Sullivan, was equipped with state of the art facial recognition and a social media monitoring software. He had promised to assist her and respond with his findings. The email contained numerous attachments.

  “Detective Vargas: As per your request, attached are our findings. There is no Phillip Winthrop age 22-28 in our database. Facial recognition software identifies the person in the photo you provided as Corey O’Shaughnessy. His criminal record and vitals are attached. After seeing his criminal record I did some digging. Mr. O’Shaughnessy’s parents died in a house fire in 2002 under mysterious circumstances. The fire marshal determined that the fire had been set, but no suspects were identified. Upon reflection, the investigating officer should have taken a closer look at Corey who was only ten years old at the time. The investigator focused on an individual who was having an affair with the mother, but was unable to pin it on him. Now we may know why.

  As you can see from the attached records, Corey O’Shaugnessy has been brought in on a pros
titution charge before. I went with a hunch and tied in the social media database. Our IT team pitched in and helped me track Mr. O’Shaugnessy’s Facebook page overnight. The attached photographs are of the most interest. Since you are not familiar with Boston I will explain: The posts on his Facebook page show someone with a fairly decent income – these photos were all taken at five-star restaurants. He also boasts about ‘gifts’ he has received, like a Cartier watch and some Gucci luggage. One photo has him at an art opening wearing a tuxedo. I don’t see how a former prostitute can suddenly accumulate the money necessary for this lifestyle. All this suggests that Mr. O’Shaugnessy has never given up prostitution. He has just graduated. It is pretty clear that his clients are all men.

  When I input his name, after the software gave me his correct identity based on the picture you sent, he came up flagged. He is wanted for questioning in connection with the disappearance of one Martin Friedman. I can’t tell you how to run the Puerto Rico police, but if he were in Boston I would recommend to the arresting officer that she proceed with extreme caution. I have copied the detective in charge of the Friedman investigation with his email. I’m sure the investigator will be contacting you shortly. Good luck. Get this piece of dirt.”

  Alexandra opened up the attachments and started reading. As she scanned through the fourth document, a screen shot of Corey O’Shaughnessy’s Facebook album, she noticed the picture of Corey that Superintendent O’Sullivan had noted. It showed Corey (or Philip Winthrop) dressed in a tuxedo and holding glass of champagne. It looked like a fundraiser of some sort.

  Directly behind Corey O’Shaughnessy, smiling and holding a raised glass of champagne in one hand and Corey O’Shaughnessy’s shoulder in the other, was Alfred Van Dusen.

  ‹31›

  Fernando pulled into the Luquillo Beach entrance and signaled for Phillip to continue behind him towards the left outside the kiosks. On the way, he had time to think about his upcoming date with Esteban. Somewhere between San Juan and Luquillo, something had triggered inside him. A lightness, a happiness.