Death by Betrayal (Book #10 in the Caribbean Murder series) (7 page)

Just
then the doorbell rang loudly. Both of them jumped.

Alain
got up, ran towards the front and flung the door open. 

“Deidre,
thank God,” Cindy heard him yelling. “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting
for you.”

*

Cindy
was tremendously glad she had the cab waiting. She got into it quickly and then
fell silent during the ride home.

“Find
what you were looking for?” the driver asked, to break the tension in the air.

“Not
yet,” whispered Cindy, “but I will.”

“What’s
that? I didn’t hear you,” the driver replied, as, suddenly, a dark green car quickly
drove too close beside them, almost swiping them off the road.

The
cab driver swerved to get away, jostling Cindy into the corner.

“Damn
idiots,” he yelled out of the window.

“Who
are they? What happened?” Cindy was shaken.

“Stupid
drunk drivers in this part of town,” he answered. “Everyone here is drunk or on
some kind of drug!”

Cindy
felt nauseous. Was Alain right? Was it truly dangerous here for her alone? What
good would it do to get wiped out, like Ann had? Who knew who was really in
that green car? The police knew where she was, no one else did. Cindy suddenly
wondered if Trage had sent the car after her?

As
they drove out of the neighborhood and closer to the hotel, Cindy felt her head
swimming. Should she check in with Trage and tell him what happened? Right now
she wasn’t really sure. She knew she needed to de-brief with someone, though. If
Mattheus were here, they’d go over every detail and she’d soon be on solid
ground. So would the investigation. She couldn’t do this with Trage now – she
suddenly wasn’t sure about him. Cindy knew her mind could be playing tricks on
her, but she felt danger on all sides of her. One thing she was sure about
though, she couldn’t continue alone.

As
the cab drove up the swirling driveway to her hotel, Cindy knew she had to call
Mattheus. She had to do it for Ann’s sake at least.  Alain was right, this was
too much for her to take on alone.

*

Cindy
got out of the cab, slipped into the lobby and up to her room without anyone
noticing. Once inside alone, she pulled out her phone, stepped out onto the patio
and looked up at the vast, perfect, blue sky. Then she dialed. As the gentle,
puffy white clouds drifted by, Cindy waited for Mattheus.

“Cindy?”
he said, the moment he picked up the phone.

Cindy
was stunned to actually hear his voice. “Mattheus,” she responded.

“My
God, I tried to call you a few times,” he said quickly. “You never picked up.”

“Mattheus,”
Cindy echoed again.

“What’s
going on? You sound funny,” his voice deepened.

Cindy
could barely get the words out. “Ann’s been killed in Bermuda,” she finally
whispered.

“What?”
Mattheus’s sounded alarmed.

“Murdered
in her hotel room,” Cindy’s voice got louder.

“How
did it happen? Where are you now?” Mattheus’s sounded uncomprehending.

“I’m
here in Bermuda,” Cindy felt as if she were babbling.

“You
went down alone? You didn’t call me?” Mattheus could barely believe it. “Why?”

 “I
need you down here now, Mattheus,” Cindy finally uttered.

“My
God,” he sounded overpowered. “Of course you do, of course.”

Cindy
sighed quietly.

“Cindy,
are you okay? How are you doing?” Mattheus sounded horrified.

“I’m
hanging in,” Cindy wanted to cry.

“It’s
okay, listen, I’ll be down immediately,” he exclaimed, “on the next flight.”

“Thank
you, thank you.” Cindy was filled with enormous relief.

“There’s
no reason to thank me,” he said gruffly. “How could I be anywhere else? I’ll
leave for the airport right away. I’ll text you the flight information.”

“Thank
you, Mattheus,” Cindy breathed again. “I’ll be there to meet you when you
arrive.”

Cindy
hung up the phone and lay down on the lounge chair on the patio. She noticed her
entire body was drenched with perspiration. Thank God, Mattheus would be here
soon. When they spoke on the phone there hadn’t been even the slightest hint of
him pulling away. Every fiber of his body was on the alert, he wanted to get here
immediately. Cindy was immensely grateful for his response. He hadn’t mentioned
Petra once, or said he wanted to stay there with her. Whatever was going on
between them didn’t seem to matter so much. He realized this was a true
emergency Cindy was involved in and she needed him here at her side - no
question about it.

As
Cindy lay outside recouping a bit, her phone rang. Was it Mattheus calling back
for more information? She picked up quickly, looking forward to talking to him
again.

“Where
were you this morning, Cindy?” It was her mother. Her voice sounded troubled
and filled with blame.

“What’s
up, mom?” Cindy decided not to answer her question or respond to the implicit
accusation.  Cindy had no intention of stepping into Ann’s shoes, mollifying
her mother at every turn.

“I
kept calling your room and you didn’t answer,” her mother’s words came quickly.

“I’m
working on the case now,” Cindy responded, “there are people to see, things to
take care of.”

“So
that’s what your sister’s become to you, a case?” her mother sounded appalled.

“Ann
is many things to me,” Cindy shot back. “She was murdered, mom. It’s a case, we
have to find out who did it, don’t we?”

“We
have to probe into the sordid details?” her mother sounded dismayed. “Why? What
difference will it make? Will it bring your sister back to us, ever? There are
far more important things to do right now.”

“Like
what?” Cindy was horrified. What could be more important than finding the
killer, prevent others from also possibly falling into harm.

“We
have to honor Ann’s memory,” her mother went on undeterred, “and do it in the
place she died.”

Cindy
never could follow her mother’s train of thought, or understand what was
important to her. Why should it be any different now, she thought?
               “We have to prepare a memorial service,” her mother went on, “stay
close to the family, comfort each other, remember the good times.”

Cindy’s
mother was asking her to forget about finding the killer and remember the good
times. It was an impossible request for Cindy.

“The
best way for me to honor Ann’s memory is to get justice for her,” Cindy responded.

“There
is no justice, you can’t get justice!” her mother’s voice grew paper thin.

“Oh
yes, I can,” Cindy dug in.

“Even
if you find the killer, you’re not getting justice!” her mother’s voice got
higher. “There will never be justice.  Ann’s life was cut short for no reason.”

“There
is a reason,” Cindy said staunchly, “And I’m going to find it.”

“Well,
I’m planning a memorial on the beach for the day after tomorrow,” her mother
continued. “You can be there, or not.”

Cindy
took a deep breath.  “Of course I’ll be there,” she said quietly. Her mother
was suffering, Cindy had to do something to help her as well.

“But
you won’t help me plan the memorial, will you?” her mother was outraged. But
whatever Cindy did or didn’t do, her mother was outraged. It had been that way
since she was a little girl. They occupied two different universes.

“I’m
not helping you plan a memorial right now,” Cindy held her ground. “I have
other things to focus on.”

“Then,
at least tell Frank to get to my room,” her mother demanded. “I know he’ll want
to have a say in it. I know he’ll be happy we’re doing it.”

It
suddenly struck Cindy that the bail hearing should be over by now. She could
most likely get Frank released right away and bring him to her mother.

“That
I can do for you,” said Cindy quickly, sitting upright on the lounge. “I’ll go
get Frank and bring him to you as soon as possible.”

“Fine,”
her mother seemed mollified. “Do it this minute, if you can.”

*

Thankfully,
bail had been granted. When Cindy called Trage he told her she could come and
take Frank back with her now.  He and his possessions were being placed in her
custody. Cindy agreed, grabbed a cold glass of water, washed her face quickly,
brushed her hair and ran downstairs to get to the jail and bring Frank back.

When
Cindy arrived Trage was waiting for her. “Good to see you, Cindy,” he reached
out his hand. “Frank’s ready to go.”

“Thanks
so very much for this,” Cindy breathed.

“No
problem,” said Trage, “Did you check on Alain yet?”

Cindy
looked at Trage carefully.  He was the only one who knew she’d gone to see him.
Once again Cindy wondered if Trage had anything to do with the green car that
practically swiped her off the road? She pulled back a bit. Cindy knew you
couldn’t give someone your trust, until you were absolutely certain about who
they were.

“As
a matter of fact, I did see Alain,” she replied courteously. “He’s a nice guy
with a rock solid alibi. I’ll give you the details, you can check them out. I
found no reason to doubt him.”

“Okay,
thanks for that,” Trage commented. “We can eliminate him then?”

“Absolutely,”
said Cindy, still wondering whether or not she should mention the green car.  She
decided to wait though and talk it over first with Mattheus.

“How
about you? How are you doing?” Trage took a step closer, looking into her eyes.

“I’m
doing fine, thanks,” said Cindy. “In fact, after I saw Alain, I took your
advice and called my partner, Mattheus to come down and help with the case.”

Trage
looked surprised. “That’s a wise step to take,” he answered carefully. “What
made you decide?”

Cindy
ignored the question. “Mattheus will be here on the next flight. As soon as he
arrives I’ll bring him over and introduce him. He’ll be a great help with the
case.”

“Thanks
for letting me know,” said Trage.

“You’ll
like him,” said Cindy. “He’s a great detective and it looks like we need all
the support we can get.”

Trage
wrote something down on a piece of paper, looked up at her, nodded and then led
her down to the end of the hallway to sign Frank’s parole.

*

Frank
was delighted to walk out of the jail beside Cindy, and into the cab that Trage
had waiting. He looked deeply shaken and discombobulated, though.

“I’ll
never forget you did this for me,” Frank said, putting his hand on Cindy’s arm.
“Never.”

“It’s
just the beginning,” Cindy said as the cab took off.

“What
do you mean? What happens now?” Frank was practically spluttering.

“My
mother and uncles are at the hotel,” Cindy replied, “they want to see you
immediately.”“They’re at the same hotel we’re staying at?” Frank seemed happy
to hear it.

“Yes,”
said Cindy. “In fact my mother’s planning a memorial for Ann tomorrow, on the
beach.”

Frank
looked stunned. “A memorial now? It’s too soon, besides no one’s here.”

“We’re
here,” said Cindy.

“Just
us?” Frank was wide eyed.

“Everyone
has their own way of dealing with things,” Cindy replied. “You know my mother
better than I do.  I guess she’s doing what she can to feel alright.” Frank
knew more about lots of things involving the family than Cindy did. He saw her
mother all the time, had been much closer to her than Cindy had.  “Tell me more
about my mother, Frank,” Cindy went on.

“This
has got to be a total nightmare for her,” he agreed. “I’ll go see her as soon
as we get to the hotel.”

“No,”
Cindy suddenly exclaimed, “first I have to talk to you alone.”

“About
what?” Frank looked startled.

“About
Ann,” Cindy breathed.

 “What
about her?” he got jittery.

Cindy
turned straight to him. “You’ve got to tell me
everything, Frank
!” Cindy
felt frightened by her own intensity.

“I
told you everything, we talked in jail,” Frank said.

Cindy’s
jaw hardened. “That was just the beginning. Ann didn’t die of natural causes. This
is a murder case, someone killed her, I’ve got to find out who.”

“I
don’t know,” Frank started trembling, “I have no idea. I told you already.”

The
cab pulled up to the hotel. Cindy paid and they got out.

“Before
we go to my mother’s room, we’re going to the back gazebo,” Cindy demanded. “There
are tables there. We’ll sit down together and you’ll talk to me.”

“About
what?” Frank became agitated.

“You’ll
tell me every secret you know about Ann,” said Cindy.

“I
won’t, that’s disgusting,” Frank muttered.

Cindy
got into his face. “This is not a game. I have to know them –they’ll tell me
how my sister was killed.”

Suddenly
Frank’s eyes opened wide. “What kind of secrets? Ann didn’t have secrets?”

“Everyone
has secrets,” Cindy insisted as she yanked him by the elbow and pushed him towards
the gazebo in the rear.

*

The
gazebo in the back of the hotel was a sanctuary for the flocks of wild birds
that made their home in Bermuda.  It was hidden under palm trees, and rows of
begonias. A few tables were scattered behind the gazebo in the shade.
Thankfully, the place was mostly empty now.

“Sit
there,” said Cindy, pointing to one of the tables, hidden away under a tree.

Frank
reluctantly went over and sat down, looking at Cindy as though she were mad.

“You
think Ann would like it if I told you her secrets?” he mumbled glumly as a few
birds overhead started to sing.

“I
thought you just said Ann didn’t have any secrets,” Cindy shot back.

 “I
said I didn’t know what Ann’s secrets were. And I never wanted to know. They
were
her
secrets,” he spoke between closed lips.

“Frank,
you’re out on bail,” Cindy felt herself turning into a tough cop. “If you want
me to find out who killed Ann, you’ve got to talk to me.”

The
shock of realizing again that Ann had been killed noticeably registered on him.
“Ask me what you want,” he said then. “But I don’t know any secrets.”

“Who
did Ann hate?” Cindy sat down opposite him and started. “Who was she holding a
grudge against?”

Frank
looked flabbergasted. “No one, not one in the world,” his voice got shaky. “All
the years we were married, I never heard your sister say anything like that.”

“Who
was she in a fight with?” Cindy was relentless.

“No
one I know,” he looked confused.

“Everyone
is in a fight with someone,” Cindy pressed him.

“Ann
had plenty of girlfriends, sometime they had tiffs, but nothing big, nothing
special. She had the same friends for years and years. Her friends became a
family to her.”

Cindy
flinched. She’d always known Ann had a world Cindy was left out of.

“What
about my mother? Did Ann fight with her? My mother’s not easy,” Cindy went on.

“What
are you talking about? Your mother’s a doll. She’s been good to us all these
years. Ann loved her, and so do I.” Frank pulled back. “You think your mother
had something to do with Ann’s death?”

“Of
course not,” Cindy retorted, “I just have to hear every detail of Ann’s life.
One things connects with another, suddenly you get a new idea.”

“Cindy,”
Frank extended his hand, “even though you haven’t lived closed by and been part
of the family for years, there’s nothing you don’t know that I can tell you. If
you want the truth, the biggest thing that upset Ann was you. She worried about
you all the time. She spoke to me about it.  She wanted you to stop being a
detective, to come home, live a normal life and stay away from Mattheus.”

Cindy’s
face flushed beet red. “What’s wrong with Mattheus?”

“Ann
never trusted the guy, she never trusted the relationship,” Frank’s eyes
narrowed and his voice lowered. “She said you never knew the first things about
guys, always got the lousy ones.”

Sharp
pain twisted in Cindy’s heart as Frank spoke. Cindy knew that was the way the
family saw her, as a strange loser who didn’t fit in.

“Your
mother agreed with her,” Frank added for good measure. “They were both thrilled
when you found Clint, didn’t know how it happened. But that good luck didn’t
last long.”

Cindy
felt herself going cold. “There was nothing wrong with our relationship. Clint
was killed,” she reminded Frank.

“I
know, I know,” he muttered. “But wasn’t he involved in something shady too?”

“Just
the opposite,” Cindy stood from her seat and then quickly sat down again.
“Clint was a whistle blower, told the truth. He was after justice.”