We foreigners who live here spent the first day searching for answers. Renee Wathelet so loved the island, how could it be so cruel to her?
My locksmith had changed her locks when a 24-year-old boyfriend turned violent and she kicked him out. The locksmith came by yesterday with all the changes he plans for me now that his friend has been murdered. She was a bit stupid at times, he said, but did nothing to hurt anyone. No es justo. Not just, not fair.
Things were confused for us foreigners when the named suspect had the same first name as the ex-friend. Renee kept her cards close to her chest, so no one actually knew his last name. Hardly any of us were introduced to him. She was discreet.
She asked me on Wednesday how I celebrated Independence Day. Not yet, maybe tonight. I didn't go to Centro for the fireworks. She did, with a male friend from Cuba, here for three days, not staying with her. Was his appearance somehow linked to her death?
On Independence day afternoon we chatted. How did you spend Independence Day? Well, it still is, I said. No, the night.
Well, I didn't feel well. I have an inflamed kidney. So I didn't go. I hope to eat out tonight at least I told her. What about you? I am working, I have a new contract, she said. Is your friend from Cuba still here?
He is in Centro, she said. We went to El Grito last night. Never a direct answer. Is he leaving tonight? He has to return to Cuba.
Never a direct answer. It was infuriating sometimes. But it was her way of protecting herself, I guess.
Joel the locksmith had caught me in the shower before Independence Day. I talked with him with a sheet towel wrapped around me. Don't worry, he said. I am the most trusted man on the island. We are older, so I don't see anything. I just finished Marcia Addams' locks.
There was a recently burglary, he said. The people installed a web cam shooting the door, he said. You could do that. No, that's excessive, I said.
Keep your doors locked, he said. Always. Part of the reason I called him was for more secure locks and also a do-not-lock-behind-me option. The man who sold me the house installed those.
Today's Por Esto! called Renee's murderer a beast. He was. He probably stalked her. Maybe not. Still searching for answers. But the article said he had been question in recent days related to several burglaries involving compact computers. Earlier reports had him as the former boyfriend. Today's story has him as a resident of a Tarzan bungalow. Tarzan's brother denied it.
Renee came to the house as soon as I Tweeted about Lora's killing. A kitten, she suggest. No, a killer dog!
Someone I can teach to bark. A puppy that can grow into an attack dog. A potential biter I can train.
Later that day, she emailed me pics of a three female pups abandoned near Sabina's house. I'll take the blonde after I see her.
Lori was soon over with the Soli, who handled it for three weeks. She looks to be part pit bull. I love that in a dog! For a dog, it is not bad, Renee said, when she visited later...the last time I saw her. Always in the morning, we texted on Skype.
But she had to go, the morning I went to Cancun. Had to take her solitary walk along the Caribbean to Punta Sur and back. Right back into the apartment where the intruder stabbed her, right about when I was getting on the ferry to go to Cancun.
This post was interrupted by a neighbor from Michigan. Had I read the news? Was the confessed killer the ex-boyfriend? No, another guy. He confessed that robbery was the motive. That's not good. Not good at all, he said. And then he hung up to go fishing. I'm going now. I have a locksmith coming.