Death by Desire (Caribbean Murder Series, Book 4) (15 page)

Cindy breathed deeply, so did Mattheus. What
good would all these stories do? Basically, there was no DNA evidence to prove
anything. The only physical evidence they had that tied anyone to the crime was
the necklace Tiffany had worn around her neck that was ripped from her. The
police had made flyers of it and passed it around, an amethyst necklace with a
design engraved in rubies in the center. Beyond that, the medical examiner had
been examining the contents of the body for a long time. Obviously, he was
concocting the story of the pregnancy now just to put the case to rest.

“Without firm evidence of a pregnancy, so far
the police have nothing,” Mattheus said.

Tad nodded.

“What will you do if they find she was
pregnant?” Mattheus asked.

“I’ll never believe it,” Tad said. “They’ll
have to show me the slides.”

“And if they do?”

“I still won’t believe them. The cops down here
are crooked as hell.”

“They can’t make up DNA. If it says Frances is
he father, then he is.”

Tad’s face got beet red. “They haven’t produced
it yet! They never will! I don’t believe it! No one has any idea who killed her.
No one is close.”

“I’m the only one who’s close to finding the
killer,” Cindy suddenly announced.

At that both Tad and Mattheus stopped cold and
stared at her.

“Who? “asked Tad interested.

“It’s too soon to say,” said Cindy. “But I’m warm
on his trail.”

Cindy didn’t know what she was referring to,
but it felt good to put it out there. She wanted Tad to feel that all wasn’t
lost. And she wanted to make a declaration to the universe that the truth would
not go undiscovered. She intended to uncover it, if it was the last thing she
did.

“That’s impressive,” said Tad. “Let me know
when you find him. You relieve my mind by just saying so.”

*

After Tad left Cindy went back up to her room,
agitated. Mattheus followed her back up. The interview had gone smoothly, but
the news that the medical examiner and police might be creating false evidence was
something wouldn’t let her rest.  She felt more urgency than ever to find a
real lead.

“This is going nowhere, fast,” said Cindy.

“Just the opposite,” said Mattheus. “We’ve got
important information to work on. If the police and medical examiner are so
eager to get this case closed, there’s something bigger going on. It has to do with
Petrovich and the government. The ruling families are probably involved. The
Senator has got to be right.”

It was logical enough, but Cindy still wasn’t
convinced. She went to her computer and pulled out the video of the engagement
party again.

“I want to look at the video of the engagement
party again,” she insisted.

“It’s a waste of time,” said Mattheus. “You’ve
looked at it over and over. You won’t find the killer there.”

Cindy turned on the computer anyway, and pulled
up the video. She let it run, and focused in on every detail.

As she was doing that, Mattheus put a call into
the Senator.

“Yeah, Cindy and I just heard that the medical
examiner is saying that Tiffany might have been pregnant?” Mattheus said. “What
do you think of this?”

There was a long pause.

“Right, I agree,” said Mattheus. “No, it’s
alright, calm down. Cindy and I are going to Petrovich’s party tomorrow night. No,
Cindy needs to be there with me. This time I’m not leaving her out. Yeah, I
know the police in Guadeloupe are up here on the case. The question is what
case? What are they really here to track down?”

Cindy put her attention back on the video. She’d
seen it so many times she almost felt as if she’d been at the party herself.
Yet, there were so many moments that were recorded, something important could
have easily slipped by.  Suddenly, in one corner of the film, something caught
her eye. She froze the frame immediately. It was a brief moment, she hadn’t
noticed. Tad and Tiffany’s mother were in a corner, arguing intensely. Cindy stared
and stared.

“Look at this, Mattheus,” she called out
sharply.

Mattheus’ came over and looked over her
shoulder.

“What am I looking at?” he asked.

“This,” Cindy pointed to the image. “It’s Tad
and Tiffany’s mother going at it.”

“So?” said Mattheus.

“It doesn’t fit.  What are they fighting about?
The mother was the one who urged Tiffany to get engaged to him. She supported
the relationship.”

“Come on,” said Mattheus, “you’re grasping at
straws. People who are close argue. It doesn’t mean anything at all.”

“It does,” said Cindy.

“What?”

“I don’t know exactly, but you know all the
things he said about her. That it was his job to take Tiffany away.”

“So,” said Mattheus, “lots of son in laws feel
that they have to help their wives become less attached to their family. And
wives feel the same way about their husbands too. It’s natural. It’s no big
deal.”

But looking at Tad and Tiffany’s mother didn’t
feel natural to Cindy. “There’s something more here,” she murmured.

Mattheus shook his head. “You’re making a big
deal about nothing,” he said, “the real gold is going to be waiting for us at
Petrovich’s party tomorrow night. We’re going to find out more about the deals
going on, who’s involved and who stands to lose big bucks if they don’t happen.
This is where we have to look.”

Cindy leaned back and glanced up at him.

“And, just in case you’re wondering,” Mattheus
went on, putting his hand on her shoulder lightly, “I have the best date for
the party any guy could want. I’m very glad you’re coming with me.”

Little chills ran up Cindy’s shoulders. “So am
I,” she said.

Before the party, Cindy had something important
to do. She put a quick call into Tiffany’s mother to find out what went on
between her and Tad at the engagement party. The frame on the video gripped
Cindy’s mind and she had to explore it in greater depth.

Wynn picked up her mother’s
phone.

“So great to hear from you,
Cindy,” she breathed, relieved.

Cindy was glad to talk to Wynn
as well. “How’s it going?” she asked.

“Not good. Nothing is good,” Wynn
sounded distraught. “Mom is having a harder and harder time coming to terms. She
leaves the boat every day, roams around, trying to find the killer. People find
her poking around in all kinds of odd places.”

“Like where?” Cindy felt
alarmed. She had to go find Myrtle immediately, sit down with her and talk.

“She’s been drifting around
Pebble Beach, an old fishing village, talking to people, looking for things.”

“What’s she looking for?”
asked Cindy.

“God knows. She says she feels
Tiffany talking to her, telling her where to go.”

“Have you called a doctor?”
Cindy asked again.

“Not yet,” Wynn barreled on, “Mom
brings home odd tidbits, but it’s the necklace that’s driving her crazy. It
torments her that the necklace she gave Tiffany was ripped away like that. She’s
convinced the necklace is somewhere on Pebble Beach, or at least some of the
stones from it.”

“Where is your mother today?”
Cindy asked. She knew how easy it could be to fall into delusion after the
sudden death of a loved one.

“I’m not sure where she is,”
said Wynn. “Probably back on Pebble Beach, rummaging around.”

“I want to meet up with her as
soon as possible,” said Cindy.

“I’m sure she’d appreciate it,”
said Wynn. “She likes you very much.”

Wynn gave her a private cell
phone number her mother would pick up. It was only for the family and closest
friends.

“I’m sure it’s okay if I give
it to you,” Wynn whispered, nervously.

“Of course it’s okay,” Cindy
said. “I’m working for the family. Your mother was the one who called me down.”

“What’s happening with the
investigation,” Wynn breathed, “are you getting anywhere?”

“Yes, of course we are,” said
Cindy, boldly. “Piece by piece things come up. Then suddenly, in a flash, they
all come together.”

“Like lightning?” said Wynn.

“Exactly,” said Cindy. “It
just takes a second for everything to fall into place. Just one extra piece of
information, something a person says off handedly, the way two people exchange
a glance.”

“And lightning flashes,” said Wynn,
excited.

“That’s right. The truth
becomes undeniable! You wonder how it was possible that it hid from you all
this time.”

“Fantastic,” said Wynn.

“It is fantastic,” said Cindy.
“It’s beautiful, and inevitable, too. There is justice in this universe, Wynn.”

Wynn was quiet for a moment. “I
can now see why you do this work,” she said quietly.

And, at that moment, Cindy
understood herself better as well.

*

After she spoke to Wynn, Cindy
called her mother, Myrtle, who picked up the phone immediately.

“I want to see you instantly,”
Myrtle said, her voice thick and hoarse.

“Where shall we meet?” Cindy
responded on a dime.

Myrtle gave her the address of
a different hotel on the island, Place de Jour.

“Get here as soon as you can,”
said Myrtle.

“I’m on my way,” Cindy said.

One hour later, Cindy arrived.
The hotel was on the edge of a cliff, in a fishing village. The village was off
to the edge of the island, out of the way, less crowded than the main sections.
It was a relief to be here, out of the rush and noise. The hotel was smaller
than the one Cindy was saying in, made of white clapboard and looked like an
old, whaling inn.

Cindy dressed casually, in
slacks and a loose shirt, her hair tied back. The lobby of the hotel had upholstered
sofas to sit on and after entering Cindy immediately scanned the place looking
for Myrtle. She wasn’t there. Cindy checked her watch. She was right on time
and wondered where Myrtle was? She’d seemed so eager to see Cindy right away.

Cindy waited in the lobby for
about ten minutes. Myrtle did not appear. Uneasy, Cindy went to the desk,
described her and asked if they’d seen her around.

“You mean that older woman
with the big, green bag?” the young woman at the desk looked at Cindy oddly.

Cindy had no idea if Myrtle
carried a big, green bag, but decided to say yes.

“She’s waiting for you in the
back restaurant,” the young woman continued.

Cindy was startled. They’d
agreed to meet in the lobby.

“Where is it?” she asked.

The young woman showed her
where the restaurant was and Cindy immediately went. The moment she walked in,
she saw Myrtle sitting alone at a large table, looking distressed. She was a
sorry sight, looking as if she were coming undone. Her hair was uncombed, curly
and frizzy. Her nails were unpolished. Her eyes shot back and forth furtively,
as if she were trying to spot someone hiding nearby.

Cindy walked right over to
her.

“You’re very late,” Myrtle
said, displeased as Cindy approached her table.

“I’ve been waiting in the
lobby,” said Cindy. “I thought we said we’d meet there.”

“Well, you were wrong,” said
Myrtle, motioning for Cindy to sit down.

Cindy sat down quickly, her
heart pounding. She was positive that they’d arranged to meet in the lobby.

“I’d never arrange to meet in
such a public place,” Myrtle said, her voice raspy. “Where’s Mattheus?”

“He’s doing research for the
party we’re going to tonight,” Cindy said.

“The Russian Moguls?” Myrtle
quipped.

“Yes.”

“He’s following my husband’s
directions, naturally. My husband’s obsessed with the Moguls. If you ask me, he’s
jealous of them - wants their money and clout.”

Cindy was surprised to hear
that.  

“We’re checking out the
background situation thoroughly, before we go to the party tonight,” Cindy filled
her in.

“There’s no situation to check
out,” Myrtle spoke between gritted teeth. “There’s only lots of bucks, glitz
and slinky women that any man can have for the asking. Each one tries to outdo
the other and they all end the night drunk or buzzed.”

 “Did your husband go to those
parties? “Cindy couldn’t help asking.

“Of course he did,” Myrtle
hissed. “He’s a man, isn’t he? You think any of them can resist easy booze and flesh?

Cindy breathed deeply and
paused. She wondered if the Senator was in Petrovich’s pocket? Did Petrovich
have something on him? Was he involved with one of the women? If it were made
public it could ruin his career. It could also have a direct bearing on the
murder.

“I’m sorry,” Cindy said.

“What are you sorry for?” Myrtle
snarled. “It’s the way of the world.  I got used to it. A strong woman can get
used to anything. But one thing I’ll never get used to, is losing a daughter.
No mother can.”

“Of course not,” said Cindy.

“And I’m going to find her,”
Myrtle insisted, “you’ll see.

“Find her, or her killer?”
asked Cindy quietly.

“Same thing,” Myrtle said, “don’t
hold me to the fine points.”

Then, Myrtle lifted a large,
green pocket book she had with her, and spilled the contents out onto the
table.

“Look at this,” she said.

Little photos spilled out,
bracelets, mementos, seashells and two amethyst stones.

“These all belonged to
Tiffany. They’re pictures of her when she was little and growing up. They’re
things that were important to her. I’m trying to find someone who recognizes
them or has a matching piece. Tiffany’s helping me, she’s telling me what to
do.”

Both Myrtle’s words and the
mess sprawled on the table seemed like the product of a deranged mind.

“I’m not crazy, if that’s what
you’re thinking,” Myrtle said heatedly. “I’m smarter than all of you. These
pieces have my daughter’s energy. Tiffany loved these amethyst stones. I gave
her four and there are only two here. The one who has the other two is the one
who stole her soul.”

“What about the necklace?”
asked Cindy.

Myrtle leaned closer, “Nobody
will find it. I’m sure they completely ripped it apart.”

“How are you going to find the
lost stones?” Cindy asked.

“By looking,” Myrtle said. “I
take these mementos, walk up and down and let them lead me wherever they do.”

Cindy was momentarily overcome
with sadness for her. Tremendous grief and shock could derail anyone.

Then Myrtle lifted her arm and
called for the Waiter.

“Bring us both the lunch
special,” she demanded.

Cindy wasn’t the least bit
hungry.

“Their soup du jour is
magnificent,” Myrtle said, suddenly turning into like an elegant, French lady.

For a moment, Cindy was
flabbergasted, had no idea how to proceed.

Myrtle took care of that for
her. She threw her head back, narrowed her eyes and looked at Cindy keenly, all
business now.

“I heard they’ve arrested a
guy named Frances,” Myrtle started, seemingly clear as day.

“Yes, they have,” Cindy said. “Do
you know him?”

“Of course I know him,” Myrtle
said. “I’ve known him for years. He’s an old friend of Tiffany’s. He meant
nothing to Tiffany. I told you the one to investigate was her ex-boyfriend
Shane.”

“I spoke with Shane,” said
Cindy. “He’s engaged to someone and has a perfect alibi, was at a party where
lots of people saw him.”

Myrtle grimaced. “That means
nothing.”

“No, it means a great deal, “said
Cindy. “Shane was nowhere around when the event happened.”

Myrtle leaned closer. “You don’t
have to call it an event. It was bloodshed,” her teeth gritted, and she looked
like an animal on the loose. “Are you going to find the one who did it?”

“Yes, I will,” said Cindy,
with such determination that Myrtle suddenly calmed down.

“Why in the world did they
arrest Frances, though?” Myrtle went on, disconcerted.

The waiter brought two bowls
of delicious cream and spinach soup with tiny croissants besides them.

Myrtle dug in and drank it
with ferocity.

Cindy couldn’t even take a bite.

“So, why did they arrest
Frances?” Myrtle asked again, her mouth full of food.

“You haven’t heard what they’re
saying about it?” Cindy asked gingerly, not wanting to further inflame her.

Myrtle stopped eating and
stared at her, angry.

“I wouldn’t be asking you if I
knew, would I?”

“Frances admitted that he and
Tiffany were having an affair when she was murdered.”

Myrtle stared at Cindy as if
she’d landed from another planet.

“What are you talking about?”

“The two of them were sleeping
together,” Cindy repeated carefully, giving it time to sink in.

“Tiffany and Frances?”

“Yes.”

“While Tiffany was engaged to
Tad?” Myrtle looked horrified.  “Ridiculous, it’s an obvious lie.”

“It doesn’t look like a lie,”
Cindy said slowly.

“And a disgusting lie at that,”
Myrtle threw down her spoon on the table. “It must have been Tad’s father who
spread this rumor.”

“Why Tad’s father?” Cindy
quickly asked.

“Because he never liked
Tiffany, not for a minute. And, he didn’t understand what his son saw in her. I
resented that. I resented him. And I let Tad know how I felt, too.”

“Did his father try to stop
Tad from marrying Tiffany?”

“Not overtly,” Myrtle said, “but
he made little comments all the time. Tossed them off like jokes, only they
weren’t funny.  They were barbs, against my beautiful daughter. And they hurt
Tad and Tiffany, too.”

“How do you know?”

“Tad’s a good boy, he tells me
things.  He and I are very close. What he said made me hate his father, though.”

The intensity of Myrtle’s
hatred was palpable. Cindy felt waves of it go through her as well.

“What did Tad tell you about
him?”

“His father let him know how
he felt in plenty of ways, said he didn’t think the marriage would last.
Whatever Tad did, his father made him feel lousy about it. I built him up though,
told him what a fantastic guy he was. He liked talking to me. I was kind to him
and warm. Much warmer than his stiff mother, who went along with whatever the
father said.”