by Jaden Skye
“And this wasn’t it?” asked Rodney.
“We’re great working partners,” said Cindy, “have done very well on the cases we’ve handled.”
“You broke up and can still work together? “That’s usually pretty difficult.” Alex interrupted. Neither of them were leaving a stone unturned, they were determined to dig beneath Cindy and Mattheus’s surface composure.
“Mattheus called me down to help with this case,” said Cindy evenly. “It’s his wife we’re talking about. I care about his well being. How could I not help?”
“Called you down from where?” asked Rodney. “You left Grenada?”
Cindy felt like she was under investigation now. She didn’t like it, there was no need for it. Her personal life with Mattheus had nothing to do with the case. Or did it, in their eyes?
“I went home for a while to take a break,” Cindy said succinctly. “Needed some down time.”
“We all need that, “Alex, said, coming to her defense.
Cindy appreciated his support. “Without down time we can’t do this job,” she repeated.
“You could have said no,” Mattheus turned towards her, swiftly.
“What I meant to say,” said Cindy, “is that I didn’t want to say no. I want to be of help here.”
“You believed his wife was dead all along?” Rodney turned and stared at Cindy point blank.
Cindy shivered. Did they think she’d been playing around with a married man and had something to do with the killing? The thought of it horrified her. What else could he be insinuating? Whatever it was, Rodney’s sudden change in manner threw her off balance. She looked back at him boldly.
“Shelly’s been missing for six years,” Cindy said abruptly. “Mattheus described years of intense searching for his wife to me. And, as we well know, it’s highly unusual for someone to be found alive after all this time.”
“Certainly is,” said Alex, brushing his shaggy hair back off his face. Although Alex had a low key quality about him, he’d also been listening intently, not letting one detail slip by.
“Sooner or later, Mattheus had a right to go on with his life,” Cindy added.
“Of course he did,” said Alex.
“Sounds like you care a lot about Mattheus,” said Rodney.
“Of course I do,” said Cindy, as the wind blew up and the waves tossed more swiftly onto shore.
Mattheus looked up at her for a moment as their eyes touched, then quickly parted.
Alex stepped a bit closer to Cindy. “These kinds of situations are very complicated,” he said softly. “You understand we have to follow every possible trail.”
“Of course I do,” said Cindy. He was reaching out to her, trying to soothing her and she appreciated it. “And I have some thoughts of my own about this as well,” she continued. “Did you guys check the Abused Women’s Shelter where Shelly worked?”
Alex nodded, “We did.”
Rodney interrupted then, wanting to take back control of the conversation. “We talked to Shelly’s supervisor Victoria. I believe I mentioned that Victoria was the one who identified her body. Everything at the Shelter was in order. Shelly did a fine job, people like her, they respected her work. The people there are horribly upset.”
“Who else did you talk to there?” asked Cindy, “co-workers, clients, residents?” It was an unusual place to work and Cindy was curious about it. “There has to be lots of information you can get about Shelly from the community there.”
“We didn’t really feel that was necessary,” said Alex, trying to meet Cindy’s glance. “We’ve been focusing on Anthony.”
“We’ve got the right guy,” Rodney broke in again, “just have to make this air tight. Clean up any possible avenue that could lead away from him.”
Mattheus stood up tall at that moment. “I want to know more about this guy,” he said, his jaw protruding.
“Fill him in, Alex,” Rodney said.
Alex spoke up clearly and simply. “The guy is in late thirties, from the Caribbean.”
Mattheus seemed startled. “Where in the Caribbean?”
“Jamaica. He’s a great musician,” Alex went on, “played sax in some of the best bands in town. Also cut a couple of albums.”
“I couldn’t care less,” Mattheus grunted.
“Seems like he and Shelly moved in together about two years ago,” Alex continued.
“Two years?” Mattheus could barely manage to say it.
Cindy swallowed hard. How awful for Mattheus to have to know that Shelly’d been alive all this time and living with another guy.
“What was she doing down here before that?” Mattheus was digging in.
“Not much for a while, then she got this job at the Shelter,” said Alex.
Mattheus rubbed his foot on the mud.
“Sorry about this,” said Alex, coughing a little.
“Just keep going,” said Mattheus.
“The guy Shelly shacked up with was known for doing drugs,” Alex continued. “Not a dealer, a user, like lots of the musicians down here. He’s a good looking dude, who gets tons of attention from the ladies. Makes sense that Shelly wouldn’t like that. Some people told us they would fight about it at parties after the concerts. Seems like she was the possessive type.”
Mattheus stared at them, his eyes boring like coals through the darkness. “Shelly wasn’t a possessive type. She was never jealous. She felt secure.”
“When she was with you,” Rodney interrupted.
“This is nuts,” said Mattheus.“I don’t believe a word of it. It doesn’t ring true.
“These are the facts,” said Alex.
Cindy remembered how Mattheus always said how the facts were different for different people. They meant something else, depending on who saw them.
Mattheus’s face grew tauter. “So you ‘re convinced this guy killed her?”
“They’d been fighting a lot before she turned up dead. Neighbors heard them and so did others. He was seen running from their house late at night the day before the killing. His alibi is shaky. He said he was with a cousin down at the other side of town. The cousin confirmed it, but we found out that this cousin wasn’t home at the time of the murder. She was at a nearby club partying. Anthony wasn’t there,” Rodney laid out the alibi, blow by blow.
“It doesn’t fit,” Mattheus grumbled, “Shelly would never be involved with a guy in a band who did drugs. Not of her own free volition. Believe me!”
“Something could have happened to her between the time she left New Orleans and was found down here,” said Cindy.
“What?” Mattheus suddenly barked, at his limit.
“That’s what we want to know,” Rodney stepped right in.
“Let me talk to this guy myself,” Mattheus insisted, his breath coming heavily. “I’ll get you your answers.”
“Okay, okay,” said Rodney. “You talk to him. Grill him good. See what really went on between him and your wife. We’ll set it up right away.”
CHAPTER 8
Anthony was scheduled to be brought over for questioning from the local jail down the road to a room in the back of the police station first thing in the morning. Mattheus got up, showered, shaved and walked to the police station as the sun was coming up. He’d barely slept, couldn’t eat and his heart was pounding as he felt a strange mixture of nausea and excitement.
Finally, he’d be face to face with the guy who killed Shelly. It was something he’d been waiting for, for years. This was different though than he’d anticipated. Now he realized that all those years he’d been searching, she’d been alive down here. Wasn’t even in hiding, just perfectly happy. It made him feel like an idiot, unsure of everything, really. How could he have been so fooled? She had to be aware that people were searching for her, living in hell.
Rodney told Mattheus to get to the Police Station early. When he arrived, the door was open and he walked in, then went straight to Rodney’s office. It was empty, but Mattheus sat down an
d waited. He felt a little woozy, not having had anything to eat this morning or last night.
Last night, after he and Cindy got back to the hotel, she’d wanted to get a bite in the restaurant, but he’d been sick to his stomach. Food was the last thing on his mind. Also, he didn’t want to sit there, opposite her, look at her incredible face and make small talk. There was no point in pretending everything between them was alright. It wasn’t. The entire situation made his head spin.
All kinds of feelings tossed around inside as Mattheus sat down on the rickety chair, waiting for Rodney. For starters, he felt incredibly humiliated. He’d been cuckolded and ridiculed in the worse kind of way. And it had been worse having all of this come out in front of Cindy. What must she think of him now? It was probably lucky that Shelly was dead, or else he might have wanted to kill her himself now, finding out the truth. She would have deserved it too, he thought. His body starting to tremble with the old, familiar anger he’d lived with for years after she’d disappeared.
Then he stopped himself. This was no good, in the early days Mattheus felt this rage towards Shelly’s murderer, the one he’d hunted obsessively and never found. Mattheus thought the rage had subsided. And it had. But the thought of her living with someone else all these years, was bringing it to the foreground again. How could she have done that, with him not knowing where she was, thinking she was dead, searching? Who does something like that? Not the woman he knew and loved so much.
Of course it was still possible that the body they found wasn’t Shelly’s. A small possibility. Mattheus knew he had to identify the remains himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it yet. He’d looked at some photos the cops showed him of her, and it certainly looked like her. There was no real reason to doubt the identification they had.
Mattheus looked around Rodney’s office now. It was quiet and ordered, ready for a new day. The guys down here did a good job. Mattheus saw no reason not to respect them. He didn’t know how he’d be able to stand face to face with the suspect though, and keep from choking him. Why not do to him what he’d done to Shelly? Why give him a chance to live? The court system would put him away and provide three square meals for life. Shelly wasn’t eating three square meals though, was she? She was cold, flat dead.
Mattheus felt himself break out into a sweat. These sweats came upon him all night long. What the hell was he so upset about? If this was all true, if Shelly’d really taken off and just taken up with someone else, not letting anyone know, she deserved to be dead anyway.
The door opened abruptly then and Rodney walked in. He was drinking a cup of coffee from a paper cup and threw Mattheus a careful glance.
“You’re here nice and early,” Rodney commented.
“I’m ready,” said Mattheus. “Bring him on!”
Rodney sat down opposite him.
“Did you have some breakfast?” he asked slowly.
“No,” said Mattheus. “I’m not hungry. Couldn’t sleep much last night, either.”
“Makes sense,” said Rodney. “How about a cup of coffee? There’s a machine out there.”
“Coffee’s good,” said Mattheus suddenly feeling blurry again.
Rodney got up, went outside to the coffee machine, came back in a few minutes with a cup of coffee and handed it to him.
“Appreciate that,” said Mattheus.
“Listen, sorry we were so hard on you yesterday,” Rodney scrutinized Mattheus carefully.
“Forget about it,” said Mattheus, “You had to. It’s business. I’d have done it, too.”
“Drink your coffee,” said Rodney.
Mattheus raised the cup to his lips but couldn’t bring himself to drink. The smell of the coffee made him nauseous, but it felt good to hold the warm cup in his hand. It calmed down the trembling that came and went at the thought of talking to Anthony.
“They’re gonna bring him over in about ten minutes,” Rodney said then. “You’ll be in a two way vision room in back. There’ll be a table between the two of you. Alex and I will be watching from the other side.”
“Good,” said Mattheus. It was relieving to know they’d be watching. It would stop him from getting too rough.
“Pull out all the stops,” said Rodney, as if reading his mind. Let him know you’re the husband. See what you can get him to spill. We could use a confession. It would be terrific.”
“He denies that he did it?” Mattheus asked. “Tell me more.”
“Yeah, he denies everything,” said Rodney. “You go in cold and see what you can drag out of him. He’s been in custody a few days now, that should be taking some kind of toll.”
Suddenly Mattheus smirked. This was the moment he’d been waiting for, wasn’t it? Waiting for years! Face to face with the killer? Okay, now he’d go and get the guy for all he was worth.
“That’s it,” said Rodney, “let’s go.”
Mattheus stood up, his legs suddenly wobbly and followed Rodney out of his office, through the corridor, around a hallway, to a room in the back.
“You go in through this door,” said Rodney, motioning to the first door. “I’m going in the door behind. He’ll have no idea we’re here listening in. Good luck.”
*
The room was small and stifling with a window high up, through which early morning light was trying to stream. Mattheus took a seat behind the metal table and waited. He didn’t want to plan what he was going to say, was going to let it all just rip. It was better to work off the moment and see what it brought.
The door opened suddenly, and a warden came in with a tall, dark, good looking, muscular guy. Too good looking for his own good, thought Mattheus. The guy was dressed in prison garb, his head held high.
“Anthony Freeway,” the warden said.
Mattheus bolted, stood up and stared at him, baring his teeth.
“Ring the bell over there when the interview’s done,” the warden said, “and we’ll come back and get him.” Then he left.
Mattheus couldn’t take his eyes off this guy. This was the guy Shelly had slept with, lived with, chosen over him. Why? The guy seemed strangely comfortable being here, too. That surprised Mattheus and irritated him.
“Sit down,” Mattheus hissed, taking charge.
Anthony went around the table and took the seat opposite Mattheus. For a second, they sat absolutely still, staring at each other.
“You’re looking at Shelly’s husband,” Mattheus spit out.
Anthony closed his eyes a second.
Open your lousy, rotten eyes, bastard, Mattheus thought. Don’t try to pull something like this on me.
Anthony kept his eyes shut tight.
“Law enforcement! Detective on the case,” Mattheus threatened. He wanted to see the guy flinch. Anthony didn’t. “Did Shelly tell you about me? Did she tell you she was married?”
Anthony opened his eyes and stared a long time. Now this seemed hard for him, too.
“Answer me, you rotten bastard,” Mattheus felt his blood begin to boil.
“No, she didn’t,” Anthony said sadly.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I didn’t know a thing about you,” Anthony said, finally, not a word all these years.”
Mattheus felt completely side swiped. He didn’t know why.
“Look man, I’m really sorry,” said Anthony, lurching back in his chair.
Mattheus was even more thrown off. An apology was the last thing he’d expected. “Sorry about what?”
Anthony shook his head, “I’m truly sorry you have to go through something like this.”
“Like what?” Mattheus’s voice rose and he felt his body clenching. “Don’t talk in riddles to me, man.”
“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not my fault. Give me a second, man. I didn’t know Shelly was married. I had absolutely no idea.”
Mattheus felt the blood drain from his face. “Shelly lied to you, too?”
“Looks like it,” said Anthony.
Something about
this guy caught Mattheus. Something in his tone, in his voice, disconcerted him. “Okay, talk,” Mattheus said.
“When I met Shelly, she was living down here alone, a free floating woman, if you know what I mean,” Anthony went on.
“No,” Mattheus felt, heat rising. “I do not know what you mean!”
Anthony shook his head harder. He seemed to feel really sorry for Mattheus. “I mean Shelly had her own place, her own friends, her own ways, like every other single woman.”
“I don’t believe a word of it,” Mattheus snarled.
“If I’d known about you, man, it would have been different,” Anthony said. “After they found her body, the police told me that she’d gone missing from New Orleans. I was just as shocked as everyone else. Believe me, I had no idea.”
“You guys lived together and didn’t talk about her life?” Mattheus wasn’t buying it.
“Sure, we talked. She told me all kinds of things. I have no idea if I can believe any of them, now,” said Anthony, shaken.
“She never mentioned me?” Mattheus repeated insistently.
“She didn’t man, not once,” Anthony mumbled under his breath.
Mattheus wanted to lunge at him, but then pulled back. Something again in the tone of his voice – Mattheus had to listen.
“I didn’t hurt her, I swear it,” Anthony cried out, in deep, sudden pain.
“But she’s dead,” Mattheus proclaimed loudly.
Anthony’s eyes glazed over. “I know it, I know it.” His head fell into his hands. “You don’t think I want the killer found? I do. I loved her, man.”
“You loved my wife?” Mattheus was shaken, watching him.
“I loved Shelly,” Anthony repeated in a broken voice.
“Everyone saw the two of you fighting, yelling,” Mattheus said, “they saw you running through town late at night the day before she was killed.”
“It was no big deal – people fight, they make up,” Anthony picked his head up out of his hands.
Mattheus looked at him closely. His eyes were red and bleary.
“We had our rough spots, she wasn’t always easy. In fact, she could be one wild broad. We laughed about it. “