Death by Desire (Caribbean Murder Series, Book 4) (21 page)

complete. Clearly they were all closing ranks around
her, and wouldn’t give her a chance. It didn’t matter, Cindy still felt that
the answer to who killed Tiffany was right close by. Too close, maybe.

Mattheus left and after a decent lunch Cindy
was ready for visitors.

Tad was the first to come in. He stood at the
door looking at her, seemed overly happy to see her.

“I felt so nervous when I heard what happened,”
Tad started.

“I’m fine now,” Cindy soothed him.

“You came down here to help us, and look how it
affected you,” his lower lip was trembling.

“Tad, I’m really okay.”

“I heard you’re leaving tomorrow,” he said. “Well,
I for one am sad to see you go.”

“Don’t worry,” Cindy joked in a low voice, “before
they know it, we’ll be back.”

Tad’s eyes opened wide.

Cindy was amused to see his reaction. She had
just been making a joke.

“You’ll be back to work on the crime?” he
asked.

“Why not?” said Cindy, playfully. “We’ve
already come this far.”

“You’re incredible, Cindy,” Tad said. “You
never let go, don’t fear danger. Harm means nothing to you.”

“You’re quite a guy yourself,” said Cindy. She
felt badly about Tad now, knowing all she did.

“I hope you’ll find a way to go forward.”

Tad looked at her oddly. “Of course I will,” he
answered. “Why shouldn’t I? I had an amazing woman and she’ll be hard to
replace. But one day I will. This is a big world.”

“That’s a good attitude,” said Cindy. Suddenly,
memories of his unchecked alibi also came to mind.

“Tiffany was a complicated woman,” Cindy added.
“Maybe you’ll find someone simpler, easier to live with?”

Tad looked at her, startled. “That’s an odd
thing to say,” he remarked.

Cindy couldn’t help but probe.  “Tiffany had
many sides to her,”

“We all have many sides to us,” Tad held
strong. “Different people bring out different parts of each other. Tiffany
brought out only the best in me.”

“And what did you bring out in her?” Cindy
couldn’t help asking.

Tad grew a bit pale. “You really want the
answer to that question?” he said quickly.

“Very much,” Cindy whispered.

 “Okay, before you leave for the States, come
to my home for an hour or so, and I’ll show you a whole scrapbook I have of our
relationship. There are letters to me, photos, mementos. I have poems she
wrote.”

“I’d love to see that,” Cindy said, her heart
starting to beat faster. It would be a wonderful closure for her on the case,
show her a more intimate side of Tiffany. Cindy didn’t want to be left with
only the sordid stories she had heard.

“Great,” said Tad, excited.

“It’s very generous of you to offer to share
that with me,” Cindy said.

Tad’s eyes shone brightly. “It’s the least I
can do,” he said. “Especially if you’re not giving up, and plan to return to
hunt the killer down!”

Cindy didn’t realize he’d taken her comment so
seriously. Obviously, it had touched a chord. She didn’t want to go back on it
now and tell him she was just joking.  It didn’t feel right to joke about
Tiffany, anyway. Cindy’s feelings about Tiffany had deepened as the investigation
went on. She really wanted to see the scrapbook, learn as much about her as she
could, leave on a positive note. How else could she ever put the case to rest?

“What time is your discharge?” Tad asked
lightly.

“Around eleven,” said Cindy, “then I’ll be
taken to the airport to fly back to St. Bart’s. Mattheus is meeting me there a
little later there. We’re scheduled to be on a flight at three back to the States.”

“Perfect,” said Tad. “I’ll pick you up at the
airport at noon. My home is only about ten minutes away. That should give us at
least an hour before you meet up with Mattheus.”

“Wonderful,” said Cindy, very much looking
forward to it. “Tad, you’re a doll.”

“You have no idea how much of a doll I truly
am,” Tad smiled appreciatively. “Wait until tomorrow, and you’ll find out.

The discharge from the hospital and flight back
to St. Bart’s went easily. Cindy was amazed at how much better she felt, and
how good it was to be out of the hospital, headed back to the island. She’d
developed a fondness for St. Bart’s, and missed being there. As the plane
hovered over the airport getting ready to land, it slowly struck her that she
and Mattheus would be leaving for the States in a few hours.  A pit in her
stomach began to form. How could she leave like this, with Tiffany’s killer on
the loose? Who knew when or where he’d strike again?

The plane flew down and landed like a bird
drifting off a cloud. Cindy suddenly realized she’d promised Mattheus she’d let
him know when she’d arrived. They’d been checking in so much with each other
these past days that it almost slipped her mind.

She stepped out of the plane, took out her
phone, and gave Mattheus a quick call.  As she was dialing, she saw Tad coming
up to her, thrilled to see her there. He must have gotten to the airport early
and been waiting for her to arrive. Cindy couldn’t remember whether or not she’d
told Mattheus she was going to spend a little while at Tad’s house before she
and Mattheus met up at the airport. She didn’t even remember if she’d told him
about the scrapbook.

Mattheus picked up the phone right away. “You’ve
landed?”

“I have,” said Cindy, “easy flight.”

“How are feeling?”

“Great,” said Cindy, “as if it never happened.”

“Whew,” Mattheus sounded relieved. “Take it
easy, have some coffee in the airport, read a magazine. I’ll be there in about
an hour or so.”

“Actually, Tad’s here at the airport,” Cindy
filled him in. “I’m going back with him to his house nearby for a little while.
He wants to show me the scrapbook he has of his relationship with Tiffany. I’ll
be back at the airport in a little over an hour, before you get there.”

Mattheus grew silent. “What are you talking
about?”

“Tad has kept a lot of mementos and he thought
it would be meaningful for me to see them.”

“We’re off the case, Cindy,” Mattheus sounded
jarred.

“I know, but Tad offered to show it to me when
he visited at the hospital, and I wanted to see what he had. It will help me
put things to rest.”

“He could have just brought what he had to the
airport,” Mattheus didn’t like it.

Cindy hadn’t thought of that. “I guess he
thought I’d be more comfortable at his home. It’s only ten minutes away from
here. No big deal. I’ll stay there for about half an hour, then he’ll drive me
back and I’ll meet you here.”

“The case is over, Cindy,” Mattheus repeated
somberly. “I hope you realize that.”

“I realize it,” she said, getting edgy. “But it
has to be over inside me as well. I don’t want to carry this around like a
stone on my heart.”

“Oh boy,” Mattheus said.

“Look, I’ll see you here in about an hour,”
said Cindy then. “We’ll have plenty of time before we catch the plane back to
the states.” Then she hung up quickly.

Tad waited patiently a few steps away while
Cindy was on the phone. As soon as she hung up, he came closer and smiled.

“I’m so glad you’re coming over for a little
while,” he said graciously. “It’s strange to think that soon you and Mattheus will
be gone.”

It was strange for Cindy to think that as well,
harder to leave than she’d realized.  She had a gnawing feeling that she and
Mattheus were much closer to finding the killer than they realized. Maybe
something in Tad’s scrapbook would shed light on it.  Miracles like that,
happened, Cindy thought. Why not to me?

She got into Tad’s car, a small Volkswagen, and
they took off for his place.

“Are your parents home?” Cindy asked lightly as
they drove down a sloping road.  “Do they know I’m coming?”

“Actually, they’re out sailing today,” Tad
answered lightly.

“Your sister too?”

Tad grimaced. “I think she’s gone with them. She
almost never does, but today she decided to.”

Tad sped up and before Cindy knew it, they
arrived at his home.

They walked inside, and as before, Cindy was
struck by how cold and angular the place was, empty like a museum that had not
as yet been filled.

“Come with me,” Tad said, taking Cindy down the
hall into a different room she hadn’t seen before. It was smaller and darker, lined
with books from ceiling to floor.

The study?” asked Cindy.

“Right,” said Tad. “This is where my father and
I sit and ponder the meaning of life,” he chuckled. “The right side of the room
has my father’s books, the left side, mine.”

Cindy was taken aback. “I didn’t know you were
so close to your father,” she said. “Actually, I had the impression that –.”

 “He couldn’t stand me?” Tad interrupted.

Cindy hadn’t meant to say that exactly. But,
perhaps Tad wanted to speak freely now that she was about to leave.

“My father never could stand me,” Tad repeated swiftly.
“And it wasn’t a secret to anyone. There was something wrong with everything I
ever did, including choosing Tiffany.”

“That’s not what your father told us,” Cindy
said.

“My father lied, acted. He was very slick, very
good at that. The truth is he hated Tiffany’s guts.”

“That’s a strong way to put it.” Cindy began to
feel cooler, listening to him.

“In fact, “Tad’s face began to flush, “my
father thought Tiffany was a rotten person.”

Cindy gasped. “That’s terrible.”

“Yes, it was. He said it to me, over and over. And
what was worse was that I didn’t believe him.” Tad’s face grew contorted.

“What are you talking about?” Cindy was growing
nervous.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Tad said to
her in a hoarse whisper, then. “They found you beaten up a few feet away from
the pusher’s house, didn’t they?”

“Yes, they did,” said Cindy slowly, not knowing
what was coming next.

Tad came closer. “So in the end, you and I
found out the same thing.”

“What?” Cindy was having a hard time speaking.

 “That Tiffany was a drug addict,” Tad spoke
without blinking an eye, watching Cindy’s every reaction.

Her face turned stone cold. “That doesn’t make
her a rotten person, “Cindy finally said.

“That’s what I said, too, in the beginning,”
said Tad. “My dad kept trying to convince me, but I thought he was just trying
to spoil my happiness, like he always did. But you have no idea what my father
is capable of.”

“Like killing Tiffany?” Cindy shivered.

“Could be,” Tad smiled strangely. “But who
would believe me?”

 Was Tad trying to pin the murder on his
father, Cindy wondered suddenly.

“I’d like to see the scrapbook,” she said.

“I’m going to show it to you,” said Tad, “but
what good will it do if you find out about her? You’re leaving the island in a
little while, anyway.”

“Tad,” Cindy suddenly cried out, “what is it
you’re trying to tell me?”

“Will you stay on the island if I tell you the
truth? Will you lock up my father?”

Cindy suddenly had trouble breathing. She was
still weaker than she’d realized. She didn’t know how she could promise him
something like that.

“I’ll certainly tell Mattheus,” she started. “We’ll
do what we can.”

“Will you stay?” Tad’s eyes started gleaming. “My
father doesn’t deserve to walk around alive while Tiffany is dead, strangled
and stabbed.”

Cindy took a deep, swift breath.  The fact that
Tiffany had been strangled hadn’t been made public. Only very few people knew
it.

“How do you know she was strangled?” Cindy
confronted him.

“My father told me,” Tad grinned.

Cindy’s heart was pounding. “He described the
murder to you?”

“He did.”

“And you said nothing until now?”

Tad threw his head back and laughed shrilly. “What
could I say? He’s my father.”

“Why are you telling me now?”

“Because you said you’re not giving up. You’re
going hunt the bastard down.”

“Show me the scrapbook, Tad,” Cindy demanded. I
want to see more. I need to see it.”

“What I told you isn’t enough?” he yelled. “What
more can I show you?”

“The scrapbook.”

Tad turned on his heel. “Okay, I’ll get it.”

 He went to a safe in the corner of the study,
and fumbled with the lock. Cindy got up and went beside him.

“The scrapbook is in there?” she asked.

“Yes,” Tad spoke darkly, “under lock and key. This
is my safe. No one else can get in. I keep what’s important to me in here.”

The lock finally turned and Tad yanked the door
it open. Cindy looked inside. There was a scrapbook and some silk scarves,
which must have belonged to Tiffany. As Tad pulled out the scrapbook, the
scarves rolled to the side and underneath Cindy saw a gorgeous amethyst
necklace glittering. In the center was the exquisite design set in rubies. It
looked like a wild heart burning. This had to be Tiffany’s necklace, the one that
had been ripped off her when she was killed. It was in Tad’s possession, locked
up in his safe.

Cindy gasped and began reeling. She tried her
best to re-group. The killer wasn’t Tad’s father. It was Tad.  Waves of
perspiration flooded her face.

“What?” asked Tad, turning to look at her.

“Nothing,” Cindy murmured. “It got so hot and
humid.”

Tad looked at the necklace and looked at her.

Cindy’s mind flew all over the place. She
stepped back from the safe, trembling.

“That necklace belonged to my mother’s mother,”
Tad said slowly, watching Cindy’s every move.

“Really?” she said casually, trying to be
nonchalant. “It’s beautiful.”

“Certainly is,” said Tad.

“You know, it’s so hot, I’m just wondering if
Mattheus is on the way?” Cindy said, and reached for the phone that was in her
pocket. She wanted to call Mattheus immediately, clue him in somehow. As she
dialed the number as Tad stared at her, slowly putting the pieces together.

“Mattheus,” Cindy gasped into the phone.

“What? What?” Mattheus was terrified.

“Mattheus,” Cindy gasped once more, before Tad yanked
the phone away.

“Someone showed you a picture of this necklace?”
Tad’s eyes narrowed. “They told you it belonged to Tiffany?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Cindy
lied.

“Don’t try to fool me,” Tad’s face became
contorted. “I hate it when people try to play with my mind. Don’t you dare try
to fool me the way Tiffany did.”

“I’m not trying to fool you, Tad,” Cindy
murmured.

“Yes, you are. You recognized the necklace and
called back up. You want to nail me for the murder!”

 He grabbed Cindy by the neck.

Cindy’s phone rang.

Tad pulled the phone out of her hand and tossed
it out the back window.

“You’re never answering that phone again,” Tad
muttered as it crashed on the patio.

Cindy tried her best to wrestle away from him.
The harder she pushed, the tighter his grip got.

“Tiffany was a lousy whore,” Tad started
screaming in a high pitched, rancid tone. “I have pictures of her in my
scrapbook to prove it. My father took them and gave them to me.”

“Your father took them?” Cindy was horrified.

“My father was onto something. He followed her
wherever she went. When she met Frances, my father was there in the shadows,
taking pictures of her and him,” Tad shrieked. “He said he did it to save me, to
let me know who she was.” Now Tad was breathing heavily. “When I saw these
pictures I knew he was right. What else could I do? I had to kill the bitch on
the spot. Do you blame me for that?”

“I don’t blame you,” yelled Cindy.

“Blame him! He drove me to it!”

“It’s a nightmare,” Cindy cried out, as though
pleading for her life.

“But you blame me anyway, I see it in your
eyes.”

“No I don’t,” Cindy yelled.

“The hell you don’t, the hell you don’t,” Tad
pressed harder around Cindy’s neck.

“Oh God,” Cindy’s voice wouldn’t come out. “Oh
God, she tried to yell anyway in the empty house, “Don’t let me die, please
God.”

Tad dragged her back to the edge of the room,
threw open the door to the back porch and pulled her outside. It was unusually
hot out, and Cindy started sweating profusely. Her back was aching and her
strength ebbing.

“Look at this before you die,” Tad grimaced,
taking one hand and flinging open up the scrapbook with photos of Tiffany that he
thrust it in her face. “When you go meet Tiffany on the other side, I want you
to tell her she deserved what she got. Tell her I knew everything about her and
that she did nothing but lie and lie. She made a fool out of me, but I got the
last laugh.”