Death by Seduction (3 page)

The
next morning, as Cindy settled in her room down the hall from Loretta, she felt
how strange it was to be here alone.  The place in the closet usually reserved
for Mattheus’s jackets and slacks was empty. The drawers in the bureau where he
put his shirts, ties and underwear had nothing in them. Cindy looked at the
empty drawers and had a sudden sinking feeling. Could she really take this case
on alone? But she dare not indulge it doubt for a second. Her friends life could
be at stake.

Cindy
walked out onto the patio and scanned the beautiful vista and sky. The
magnificent  mountainous island stretched out before her, hills which rose up
as part of the  terrain which surrounded the island on all sides. There were lush
greens wherever her eyes rested and a sweet smell in the air.  It was the wet
season down here though, and the mist in the air was heavy. Cindy felt droplets
of perspiration forming on her forehead. Even though she would have enjoyed
staying out here, she knew she had to get going. There was a great deal to do,
lots of information to gather, and she had to do it fast.

As
Cindy walked back into the room to wash and change, the house phone rang and
she quickly picked up.

“Do
you have everything you need, is everything all right?” Loretta was on the
other end.

“Yes,
thank you, it’s a beautiful room,” replied Cindy.

Loretta
sighed, relieved. “Good. And, you’re not going into this completely alone, my
father will be arriving soon. He’ll help.”

Cindy
was glad that Loretta’s father was coming to support his daughter through her
ordeal.  Cindy personally didn’t know him, though, and had no plans to count on
him for anything. For a second Cindy wondered where Loretta’s mother was, but
then suddenly remembered that she had died in a car accident during Loretta’s senior
year in college.

“My
dad’s wonderful,” Loretta went on. He’s been both a father and mother to me all
these years.”

 “You’re
lucky to have him,” Cindy replied.

“I
definitely am,” murmured Loretta. “There’s no way I could go through this
without him at my side.”

Cindy
swallowed hard, remembering how she’d felt the same way about Mattheus when her
sister Ann had died. Mattheus had come racing to her side then, was an
incredible support in every possible way. Cindy would be eternally grateful to
him for that.

“Well,
I have to get going now,” Cindy quickly changed the topic of conversation, not
wanting to spend too much time on the phone.

“Where
are you going, what are you going to do?” Loretta sounded concerned.

“My
first step is to check out the crime scene,” Cindy reported.

“Not
the whorehouse?” Loretta’s voice rose in horror. ”You’re not going there?”

“It’s
routine to visit the scene of the crime,” replied Cindy. “I have to go. That’s
where Pete’s body was found.”

“Was
dumped!” Loretta reminded Cindy curtly. “And nothing about this investigation is
routine,” she quickly added. “I can give you all the information you ask for.
And, even if I do, nothing will be what it seems.”

Nothing
was what it seemed in any investigation, thought Cindy. “Thanks so much for the
offer,” Cindy answered, “but I’ve got to go and dig up things on my own.
There’s information out there you have no idea of.”

“What?”
asked Loretta, her voice dimming.

“I
don’t know yet,” replied Cindy, “but believe me, I’ll find out.”

“Go
look, if you have to,” Loretta said, tentatively. “But remember, whatever you
find,  you’ve got to let me know.”

“Of
course,” said Cindy softly, “you’ll be the first to find out.”

*

The
brothel where Pete’s body was found was located in a residential section of the
city, on a regular block in an ordinary house. Anyone could have been inside,
living an absolutely

ordinary
life. Prostitution was legal in the Dominican Republic and houses like this
were scattered all over the place, out in plain view, for all to frequent.

Cindy
walked up the front path of the stucco house tentatively, and ran the bell. 

“Just
come in,” a raspy voice yelled from inside.

Cindy
pushed the door open and waked into a large, messy foyer. Then she took a few
steps further into the parlor. The room was strewn with clothes, shoes and
pictures of beautiful girls in seductive poses hanging half crookedly on the
walls.  As Cindy looked around she was startled to see some girls actually
there, lounging on the sofas, half dressed, half asleep. A couple of the girls
looked up at Cindy slowly as she walked in. The windows were closed and it was
sweltering. The place smelt of smoke, coffee and sour wine.

 One
of the girls pulled herself off the coach and roamed over to Cindy. She was in
her early twenties, slim, with long tangled hair and lots of make-up covering a
naturally, lovely face.

“What’s
up, honey?” she giggled, “what are you looking for here so early in the day?”

“Cindy
Blaine, detective,” Cindy announced. “I’m here to investigate the murder of
Peter Twain.”

“You’re
a cop?” the girl’s eyes widened. “I’d never guess it in a hundred years.”

Just
then a sweet, lanky, Caribbean policeman walked into the room.

“Hey,
this dame here is a cop,” the girl rolled her eyes at him.

The
cop paused and looked at Cindy carefully.  “Loretta Twain called and told us
you were on your way over,” he replied. “She told us to take good care of you.”

Cindy
was grateful to be expected, and also glad to connect with the police. Their
support would make all the difference to her in this investigation.

“Thanks
so much,” Cindy walked over to him and extended her hand. “Cindy Blaine,
private detective.”

He
smiled. “Ron, here,” he replied. “Such a pretty little lady with a job like
this?”

Cindy
realized how much easier it had been interacting with the police with Mattheus 
at her side. The guys took her more seriously when she was with him. But she couldn’t
buy into that now.

“I’d
like to see the crime scene,” she replied, professionally.

“All
business, eh?”  Ron kept the smile on his face.

“Come
on, Ron, show it to her,” the girl  beside Cindy shoved into him playfully.
“It’s good to see you here, honey,” she said to Cindy then. “Even Shanya heard
that you were coming and was very pleased about the news.

“Who’s
Shanya?” asked Cindy, looking around.

“She’s
an older woman who lives here and helps us out,” another girl on the sofa piped
up. “She loves Charma, we all do. Shanya told us she’ll definitely be getting
out.”

“Really?”
said Cindy, fascinated.

“Hey
Ellie, you pipe down,” said Ron.

“Pipe
up, pipe down,” Ellie sounded like an alley cat, mocking Ron.  “I’ll say
anything I want, big boy.”

Ron’s
smile turned into a grin. “Boy, this is the best job I’ve been sent to for
months,” he said, enjoying every minute of it.

“What
does Shanya mean that Charma will definitely get out?” Cindy turned to Ron.

“It
doesn’t a thing,” Ron mumbled. “They can all think anything they want.”

A
tall, sensuous girl then came out of a side room, a printed robe wrapped around
her thin frame. An older man, slightly stooped over, followed behind her,
scuttling away, the moment he saw Cindy.

What
a scene, thought Cindy, agitated, wondering how Pete’s body really ended up
here?

“Go
with Ron and see the scene of the crime,” the girl next to Cindy urged.

“Shut
up Dawn,” Ellie called from the couch. “Cindy knows what she’s doing. Welcome
to our house, Cindy.”

“Thanks,”
Cindy responded and was then silent. These women meant well, they wanted to
help, but it also struck Cindy strongly that none of them seemed the least bit disturbed
about Pete’s death. Were they all just relieved thinking Charma would get out? Was
it a common occurrence for guys to end up dead down here?

“Go
take her to the crime scene Ron,” Ellie got up from the sofa then, coming at
him.

“You
give me an hour alone with you in the back and I’ll take Cindy anywhere you
like,” Ron answered.

“You
do what I say or you’ll get the beating of your life,” Ellie played with him languorously.

“Okay,
okay,” Ron feigned fear, “I’ll be good. Come on, Cindy, let’s go.”

Cindy
followed Ron down a narrow hallway. There were a bunch of closed doors on both
sides of the hallway with strange sounds coming from inside the rooms. Finally,
they reached the door on the end. He opened it quickly and they went in.

The
room was small, airless and messy. Cindy could practically breathe, it was so
musty and smoky inside. The bed was stripped. On a small table near the bed was
a bunch of plastic flowers in a vase and an ashtray full of cigarette stubs.

“We
can’t move anything in the room for a few more days,” said Ron. “Got to keep
everything like we found it.”

“Where
was Pete when they found him?” Cindy was all business.

“Laying
here across the bed, butt naked, blood all over the place,” Ron answered, unmoved.

“Who
found him?” asked Cindy.

“Charma,”
said Ron. “The girl he’d hired that night.”

Cindy
took a swift breath.  Ron was giving her the official story but she had to take
it with a grain of salt. What proof did they have the Pete had spent the night
here? But if he’d been somewhere else and had an alibi, Pete certainly couldn’t
tell them about it now.

“The
police got here fast and took all the evidence they needed,” Ron went on
methodically. “After that they cleaned up the blood.”

Cindy
was startled by his nonchalance. “This is all routine?” she asked. “Things like
this happen down here a lot?”

“Things
like this happen everywhere,” Ron mumbled.

Cindy
scanned the room carefully. She was disappointed that the blood had been
cleaned up and wondered if blood spatter evidence might have told a different
story. Had the police been careful enough about collecting it? Aside from the
bed, dresser, flowers and cigarette stubs, there was nothing else in the room
she could take note of.

“Listen,
you’re not gonna have to spend too much time down here,” Ron wanted to take the
pressure off her. “We got the girl, Charma,  in custody. Pete was a regular
customer and we got her fingerprints all over him. We even got the knife she
used to kill him. Case is open and shut.”

Cindy
needed to push the envelope. “Pete’s wife denies that he ever visited a
prostitute,” she declared..

“Yeah,
yeah,” Ron looked weary. “What else is a wife supposed to say?”

“She
means it,” Cindy pressed forward. “She said someone dumped her husband here and
framed Charma.”

“Yeah?
So, how come we got Charma’s fingerprints are all over her man?” Ron countered,
looking at Cindy as if she were a child. “Believe me, there’s nothing much to
investigate, honey. Just a pained wife wanting to remember her husband in a
better way.”

“Why
would Charma kill Pete? What does she say?” Cindy needed much more than what
Ron was giving her.

At
that Ron rolled his eyes back into his head. “Why is a question that has no
answer down here. These things happen all the time, too much drugs, rough sex
gone bad, a fight breaks out, a knife nearby in easy reach and another guy
bites the dust. You take your life in your hands when come into these places. Nobody
tells these guys that, but they do.”

Cindy
could easily see that. “The women who work here live in this house?” Cindy
wanted to know all about them.

“Yeah,
in this place they do. In others they don’t,” Ron went on. “Sometimes guys come
and take them out and return them when they’re done. Some go to hotels. In this
place, most of the time the customers come here to see the ladies.  It’s legal
here, nothing to do about it. It’s not legal to be a pimp, but the rest of it
is legal. You know  that the Dominican Republic is one of the biggest
destinations for sex tourism, didn’t you?”

Cindy
didn’t actually know that.

“They
got all kinds of hungry guys travelling down here for the thrill,” Ron went on.

“Do
you have evidence that Pete was a regular customer?” The image of lots of
hungry  guys coming down to these places disturbed Cindy. For the moment she
only wanted to focus on Pete.

At
that Ron stopped, looked up and grinned at her again. “We don’t have any
evidence that Pete was a regular customer, or that he ever saw Charma before,”
he replied. “The girls here don’t exactly keep records. But it doesn’t matter,
the physical evidence is all we need. The case is open and shut.”

“Does
Charma know this? Did she confess?” Cindy asked anxiously.