Chapter 7 – How would you explain it?
May 27, 2010 2:29 pm
They tried not to let their discovery ruin the day, but that was easier said than done.
Breakfast had been a quiet affair. Both Elliot and Olivia had loaded their plates with food mindlessly, but neither of them felt even remotely hungry all of a sudden. The music filling the breakfast bar area blocked out most of the activity down the hall, but occasionally someone dressed in a suit would walk past the buffet, a reminder of the horrifying scene they had stumbled onto. Elliot managed to eat a bagel smeared with cream cheese, some eggs, and a banana, but he ate more out of habit than need. Olivia just sat there, pushing the food around her plate and taking the occasional sip of orange juice.
After giving up on eating, they headed outside and walked down to the beach, feeling some of the sadness dissipate under the watchful eye of the sun. It was a beautiful day, although white clouds were starting to dot the horizon. The beach was filled with happy, frolicking people, making the gruesome scene inside seem almost like a dream that they were just now waking up from. Although their bodies relaxed, their minds, conditioned to investigate, were combing over every detail from the night before, searching for indicators that all had not been well with their dinner companions.
No matter how hard he tried, Elliot could not see anything that would have suggested the horrible events of last night were even a possibility. They had seemed so in love, so content. Olivia had an easier time seeing signs, although she too could not fully understand it. As she lay, stretched out on a colorful cloth lounge chair, feeling the sun beating down on her back and raising beads of sweat to the surface of her shoulders, she wondered if perhaps Harmony was not as okay with Chad bringing home other women as he thought.
Maybe their relationship was only open in his mind.
Maybe Chad had been lying to her and had planned to take Olivia back to his room before Harmony even knew they were missing.
Maybe he had found another woman willing to go with him, and Harmony had walked in on them. In a fit of rage, she killed Chad while the other woman escaped. He would have had to pick her up after they left the restaurant. Chad did not leave the booth after that fateful trip to the bar, and she and Elliot had dropped the couple off at their room.
Or maybe Harmony had been the lucky one. Perhaps she had found a guy willing to join them and Chad didn't like her choice. Maybe he killed her and then killed himself while the mystery man escaped.
With all these thoughts free floating in her head, Olivia found herself restless. Rolling over, she dropped her sunglasses back over her eyes and sat up. Her skin was already showing signs of an amazing tan as she stretched and looked down the beach. She glanced quickly over at Elliot, who was lying on his back in a matching lounge chair with his eyes closed. Despite his outward peacefulness, she could tell his mind was working by the way his jaw twitched.
Eager to distract him from the sadness of the morning, Olivia leaned over and kissed his cheek.
"Well, I'm getting a great tan. Only thing is, I'm going to have annoying tan lines. Maybe I should suntan topless for a bit."
"Not with all these other guys around here you won't." Elliot responded without opening his eyes, but the corners of his lips twitched up into a smile, knowing she was baiting him. She laughed and patted his leg affectionately before standing up. At least she had been right about him not being into "open" relationships.
Stretching again, Olivia glanced down toward the water. "I'm going for a walk up the beach. You want to come?"
"Yeah."
The spotless sand was warm against their feet as Olivia and Elliot trekked down to the water's edge. The light reflected blindingly off the white grains so that, even with sunglasses on, they had to squint. They walked slowly beside the ocean, holding hands, feet sinking into the soggy sand. The water temperature was pleasant and the crests of the waves bubbled and washed white over their feet. They walked past laughing children playing in the sand, couples holding hands and wading into the swells, and boogey boarders sliding past with the tide.
"You know, we probably should have asked for the investigator in charge and offered to give a statement," Elliot mused offhand as they splashed through the roiling surf.
"Why?" Even as she asked the question, Olivia knew the answer.
"Well, we were likely the last people to see them alive. Maybe we could give the police some insight into their state of mind before the incident."
"Yeah, I guess so." Olivia looked less than convinced and Elliot felt bad. She was obviously trying not to let their discovery taint the day, and here he was, bringing it up again. Mentally, he chastised himself. They weren't back in New York. This wasn't their case. Still, he found himself continuing.
"Maybe not though. I mean, it doesn't make any sense to me really. I know, no homicide ever really makes sense, but still. They seemed so happy last night. What could have possibly happened?"
"I don't know." Olivia shook her head slowly, electing to keep her varied theories to herself for the moment. "Obviously there was a lot more going on than we could see in that brief dinner."
"Yeah, of course." Elliot shook his head sadly, rubbing his free hand over the back of his neck. "Well, if it is a murder-suicide, it shouldn't take them too long to wrap it all up. It's not going to be good publicity for the resort regardless. I feel sorry for whoever found them. Some resort staff member is going to need a lot of counseling."
"You're not kidding. I wonder if someone in one of the neighboring rooms heard them. Judging from the amount and splatter of the blood we saw, there must have been a struggle."
"Well, the rooms are probably pretty soundproof. If not, I'm sure our neighbors would have lodged a noise complaint after how loud you were last night." Elliot grinned widely as Olivia shot him a dirty look over her sunglasses.
They had walked a few more feet in silence, Elliot still grinning like the Cheshire Cat, when Olivia suddenly pointed out into the water.
"Hey El, look at that." Releasing his hand, she strode out a good 10 feet into the water, stopping only when she toed the edge of the sandbar. Lifting up her sunglasses, she peered down into the water.
"What do you see?" Elliot followed her out, squinting in the light that reflected off the water. She pointed down, into the relative darkness of the deeper water beyond the sandbar.
"There."
"I don't see anything . . ."
Before he had time to react, Olivia stepped back and, throwing all her weight into it, pushed Elliot hard. Caught off guard, Elliot lost his balance, slipped off the sandbar, and splashed headfirst into the deep water. When he surfaced, sputtering and wiping water out of his eyes, Olivia was doubled over laughing with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"THAT was for the loud comment."
"You, my friend, are in such trouble!" As Elliot swum back over to the sandbar, Olivia took off running out of the water and down the beach. She was laughing too hard to get very far though and soon he had caught up with her, encircling her with his arms, throwing her over his shoulder, and dunking them both back into the crystal clear blue-white water.
Later that afternoon, the sky clouded over and the sun went into hiding, but the atmosphere in their hotel room was still smoking hot.
Elliot moved over Olivia slowly, his hips gently rotating, shifting rhythmically under the crisp white sheets, his eyes watching her face intently for any sign of pain. He knew she had to be sore, but she never complained and the only emotions he saw flitting across her face were ones of pleasure. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open slightly, her head tilted back as he buried his face in her neck and gradually increased the speed of his movements. Their still wet bathing suits were dampening the carpet, forming grey puddles in the cream shag.
"Ohhhhhhh, El." Olivia's whimpered pleas drove him on, a carnal urge to move harder and faster battling with his rational side that reminded him to be gentle.
A loud knock on their door stopped them both mid-movement, their eyes flying open.
"Who is it?" Elliot growled, stilling himself over Olivia but not pulling away.
"Korps Politie Aruba, Inspector First Class Delano Maduro" a voice called back, muffled by the wood of the door. "I need to speak to a Mr. Elliot Stabler and a Miss Olivia Benson."
"Give us a minute!" Elliot called before grunting a quieter "Dammit." Gently extricating himself, he rolled off Olivia and reached for his suitcase, pulling out a pair of shorts and a grey T-shirt. "Better get dressed Liv."
Olivia was already way ahead of him, yanking on a pair of Bermuda shorts and a black tank top.
Elliot made it to the door first, peering through the peep hole to see a short man with deeply tanned, lined skin waiting patiently in the hallway, fiddling with his tie. When Elliot opened the door, the man snapped to attention, his eyes cool and assessing.
"Badge please," Elliot grumbled. Reaching into his pocket, the man produced it with no expression on his face. Elliot looked it over carefully. He had never seen an Aruban police badge before, but it appeared legit. He memorized the number before handing it back.
"Mr. Stabler I presume?" Maduro's voice was calm and unassuming, but his eyes were alert and intense. "Where is Miss Benson?"
"Right here." Olivia appeared behind Elliot's left shoulder, her arms folded tightly across her chest.
"Excellent. If you would both come with me please. I have some questions to ask you surrounding the death of Mr. and Mrs. Chad Roundhouse."
The office was ridiculously hot.
It was an intimidation tactic that Elliot knew well. Crank up the temperature in the interrogation room so the suspect would be uncomfortable and therefore more likely to let something slip. Given the rest of the hotel was enveloped in air-conditioned coolness, it was obvious that the temperature in the office was high on purpose. Although the office belonged to a hotel staff member and was not normally an interrogation room, the same principle applied.
Inspector Maduro had separated Elliot and Olivia almost immediately. He claimed it was because the offices were simply too small to fit three people comfortably, but Elliot knew he really just didn't want to give them the opportunity to get their story straight. Not that they had a story to straighten. Olivia had been escorted to an office in a different part of the hotel while he and Maduro sat down in the current one.
"You know, I can verify if that is the truth," Maduro commented mildly in response to Elliot's assertion that he was a New York City detective, hoping for some professional courtesy.
"Go ahead." Elliot calmly rattled off his badge number, as well as the contact number and name for his Captain back in New York. Maduro wrote both numbers down neatly on his pad of paper before turning his eyes back to Elliot.
"So what brings you to Aruba, Mr. Stabler?"
"I'm here on vacation with my girlfriend." Elliot kept his answers short, knowing the inspector would be looking for ways to trap him and twist his words. He had done it many times himself in pursuit of a confession.
"You weren't surprised when I mentioned the death of Mr. and Mrs. Roundhouse." Maduro's comment was more of a statement than a question.
"No. We were on our way to breakfast this morning when we passed their room. We spoke to one of your colleagues, who told us that it was a murder-suicide."
"Hmmmm. My colleague accidently misinformed you. It was not a murder-suicide. It has since been ruled a double homicide." Maduro leaned forward and squinted at Elliot. "Did my colleague mention the name of the victims?"
"No."
"Then how did you know it was Mr. and Mrs. Roundhouse?"
"We recognized the room number. Mr. and Mrs. Roundhouse sat with us at dinner last night. After dinner, we walked with them toward our rooms. Their room was the first one we came across. They wished us a good night and we kept going."
"You didn't go into Mr. and Mrs. Roundhouse's room?"
"No."
"Did your girlfriend?"
"No."
"Where did you go after you left the Roundhouses?"
"Back to our room."
"Is there anyone who can verify you were in your room between the hours of 1 am and 4 am this morning?"
"My girlfriend can."
"She's hardly unbiased. Anyone beside her? Room service? The front desk?"
Elliot bit his tongue to keep from snapping at Maduro. "No. We didn't order room service and didn't leave the room."
"So I assume you will vouch for your girlfriend's whereabouts between the hours of 1 am and 4 am this morning?"
"Of course. She was in bed with me."
"Were you awake during those hours?"
"I don't think so. Most people sleep during those hours typically."
"Then how do you know she didn't leave the room?"
"I would have noticed if she was gone."
"Really? Even if you were sleeping?"
Elliot felt anger begin to bubble under his skin as sweat trickled down his neck. He knew where Maduro was going with this. He ignored the question, as Maduro already knew the answer, and sat silently. Maduro's cool eyes never left his. Professional courtesy was obviously not going to be forthcoming.
When Elliot didn't speak, Maduro continued. "Tell me about your dinner with the Roundhouses."
Taking a deep breath to quell his irritation, Elliot recounted the events of the night before, starting from the young host's appearance at their table with the Roundhouses in tow and ending when Chad shut the door behind him and his wife as Elliot and Olivia continued on to their room. He detailed the topics of their conversation as far as he could remember while Maduro jotted notes quietly.
Once he had finished, Maduro looked at him thoughtfully.
"So last night was the first time you had ever met the Roundhouses?"
"Yes."
"You both live in the United States."
"New York and Los Angeles are nowhere near each other."
"Both are large cities. Perhaps you ran into Mr. Roundhouse when he came around to recruit talent in New York."
"I had never met Chad or Harmony prior to last night," Elliot repeated through gritted teeth, clenching and unclenching his fists to try and relax his hands.
"Had your wife?"
"No. Olivia met them for the first time last night as well."
"Really. That's interesting."
Blowing out a deep breath, Elliot's eyes pierced Maduro's.
"Why is that interesting?" Elliot asked dully, growing tired of the games.
"Well, she and Mr. Roundhouse looked quite close last night. They must have really hit it off in a short period of time."
Elliot suddenly felt a bad feeling blossoming in his gut. "Olivia gets along well with everyone. We all talked and laughed together. I wouldn't describe them as close though."
"Really." Maduro leaned back in his chair and opened a file folder that had been sitting underneath his pad of paper. Slowly, he withdrew a small stack of glossy 11" by 14" photos. He held them up so the back of the photos were all Elliot could see. Maduro looked at them quizzically for a moment before shaking his head and silently sliding the photos across the table toward Elliot.
Seeing the top photo was more painful for Elliot than being shot. The lighting wasn't amazing, but Elliot could clearly make out the bar area of the resort restaurant. The photo was zoomed in, and both Olivia and Chad's faces were unmistakable. In the top photo, they were pressed against each other, Chad holding onto Olivia's arm with one hand while the other hand rested on her hip. She had one hand resting against his chest. His hand on her arm was a bit hard to make out through the swarms of people around them, but the hand on her hip was clear as day from the camera angle. Elliot could also tell that, although things were undeniably cramped, there was enough room that they didn't need to be THAT close together. The next photo showed them slightly further apart, but Chad's hand was now resting on her backside as they gazed at each other. The sight made Elliot sick to his stomach.
The rest of the photos were more of the same.
Chad with his finger under Olivia's chin, his thumb resting just below her bottom lip, their faces inches apart. Had he leaned forward a bit more, he could have kissed her.
Both of them talking, Chad with the look of a lovelorn Romeo on his face, Olivia facing away from the camera. It was almost as if she was looking to make sure no one was watching them.
Chad pressed up against Olivia, a beer in one hand, his mouth next to her ear. The look on her face suggested she was listening to him intently as her hand rested on the crook of his arm.
Chad touching Olivia's face with the back of his hand, his finger brushing over her cheekbone.
The last photo was of them holding hands, their arms outstretched as if trying not to lose each other in the sea of people.
Elliot sat staring blindly at the photos, not wanting to believe what he saw immortalized in them. Maduro gave him a few moments of quiet before leaning forward in his seat again.
"There is a security camera, pointed at the bar area in the resort's a la carte restaurant. It's meant to discourage fights and purse snatchings. These are still photos taken from the video feed. Tell me something Mr. Stabler," Maduro placed his hands on the desk and touched the corner of one of the photos spread out before Elliot. "If you wouldn't describe your girlfriend and Mr. Roundhouse as close, how would you explain it?
