Jaden Skye - Caribbean Murder 02 - Death by Divorce

by Jaden Skye

  DEATH BY DIVORCE

  (book #2 in the CARIBBEAN MURDER SERIES)

  Jaden Skye

  Also by Jaden Skye

  DEATH BY HONEYMOON (Book #1 in the Caribbean Murder Series)

  Copyright © 2011 by Jaden Skye

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  CHAPTER 1

  Cindy knew it wouldn’t be easy as she boarded the early morning flight to Grenada, leaving from JFK Airport in New York. The plane was half empty, and the airline stewardess looked tired and distracted as she showed Cindy to her seat.

  Everyone at home had told her that she was crazy to go back down to the Caribbean again so soon, like this. And to Grenada, of all places. Why? Was it even safe?

  “Wasn’t there an invasion in Grenada, not so long ago?” her sister Ann had asked. “I don’t have a good feeling. Didn’t a hurricane also wipe out that island? Anything could happen down there.”

  “It’s perfectly safe,” Cindy said, trying to soothe her sister. “The invasion was in the 80’s,” Cindy had said. “Everything’s fine now, and the country was rebuilt after the hurricane.”

  Ann had been near tears. “Cindy, this isn’t a wise decision. I don’t know why you made it. But it’s time for you to settle down. I don’t know if your life will ever be the same, since Clint’s death.”

  As Cindy put her carry-on bag in the overhead compartment, she wondered about what Ann had said. Would her life ever be the same? Probably not. Why should it? Life came and brought incredible surprises that changed us all. It couldn’t be avoided. How could she ever be the same person again?

  She took a seat near the window, waiting for the plane to take off and thought more about their conversation. “Dalia told me that Grenada is a hidden gem among the islands,” Cindy had said. “And I’m going down there for a purpose. It’s not exactly a pleasure trip.”

  “You’re going down on an impulse,” Ann had cut her off, “A worthy impulse, but a dangerous one.”

  Cindy hated it when Ann started preaching at her.

  “Look, Cindy, it was incredible the way you solved Clint’s murder. It was all over the news. It’s understandable that people will call you about it and want your help in their lives, but—.”

  “It’s not just people,” Cindy’d interrupted. “Dalia was one of my best friends in high school. You knew her, Ann.”

  “I remember her well. But it’s strange that she called you now. You both lost track of each other over the years.”

  “So what? Her husband is missing, too. The police have come up with nothing, and time is passing. She’s going nuts. I can relate.”

  “It’s horrible that her husband is missing, but you’re not a detective, Cindy!”

  Cindy refused to be deflected. “I have a good nose, Ann. A second sense. I’m good with people. I can sniff things out. She needs me. I want to help.”

  “You’ve just been through hell,” Ann continued, “are you thinking straight? It would be understandable to be a little crazy after the hell you’ve gone through. “

  Cindy refused to take that in. Maybe she’d allowed people to say things like that in the past, but not anymore. Those days were done. She’d proved herself to everyone.

  “No one can call me crazy any longer, Ann. Cut it out.”

  “Okay, but just because you found Clint’s murderer, doesn’t mean you know how to find a missing person. And down in Grenada, no less!”

  Cindy’d turned a deaf ear. She thought of her old friend Dalia, and could only imagine the nightmare she was going through. There was no way Cindy could sit by and not respond. Every bone in her body had told her to go.

  Dalia’s call for help had brought the memory of Clint right back to mind. Cindy remembered the frantic pain of running up and down the beach in Barbados, when he didn’t return from surfing, looking for him, calling his name over and over, and hearing nothing in return. She remembered the horrible feeling of emptiness that had gripped her then and wouldn’t let go. It still returned these days, when she least expected it.

  Cindy realized that late spring wasn’t the best time of year to go down to Grenada. It was the rainy season. But that was all the more reason to get down quickly and find what she could —before storms would come and wash evidence away.

  “Get ready for takeoff,” the stewardess spoke. “Buckle your seatbelt. ”

  Cindy buckled her seatbelt as the stewardess spoke mechanically, reciting instructions for what to do in the event of a crash. Cindy was used to crashes. When Clint had died, her whole life had crashed. But something good had come out of it: she’d survived and discovered her strength. She’d also learned how to see through people’s lies and disguises, and get to the heart of the truth. Cindy couldn’t be played with anymore. If she could use these gifts now to help a dear friend, then something really valuable could come out of the nightmare she’d been through.

  The plane took off swiftly and before she knew it, she was soaring through the sky, looking out at the billowing clouds. Cindy put her head back on the seat, hoping to sleep until they arrived. She closed her eyes and let the plane fly her off into another world, and before long, fell into a light sleep, dreaming of palm trees, blue waters and the sound of gentle waves.

  Then, suddenly, she was jarred awake, by a loud, metallic bang.

  Cindy awoke with a start as the plane dipped and swirled in and out of bolts of lightning, flashing outside.

  We’re experiencing unexpected turbulence,” a voice came over the loudspeaker. “Buckle your seat belts, please.”

  Cindy grabbed her seat belt around her waist and buckled it again. The plane shook, dipped, then rose a little. Someone in a back row screamed. They were being rocked back and forth violently by rising winds and pouring rains. Cindy put her hands on her head to keep waves of dizziness from overwhelming her. We’ll get through this, she kept saying to herself, only half believing it. And what if they didn’t? What then?

  For a second, she wondered who she would call to say goodbye to. With a shock she realized that Clint was gone, that she was alone. It wasn’t the same calling her sister or parents. They didn’t mean the same to her.

  The plane dipped and swooped for what seemed like eternity. Cindy prayed silently for life, for strength, for time to help others, until slowly, the harsh winds died down. They’d passed through the turbulence, were on course. Cindy gave thanks but couldn’t help wondering what else was in store. What other turbulence lay ahead?

  *

  Thankfully, the landing in Grenada was smooth, and the airport was so empty at this early hour that Cindy picked up her luggage and went through security and customs without a glitch.

  She walked out into the main airport, looking at the tropical trees and blue skies and took a deep
breath. It was good to be back in the Caribbean again.

  As she walked slowly to the passenger pick up, Cindy scanned the place for Dalia, who was supposed to meet her there. There were only a few men waiting for passengers; signs in their hands. Cindy paused and sat down on her luggage. She closed her eyes and let the warm, sweet breezes caress her face. Dalia would arrive soon. She’d never been exactly on time.

  Cindy remembered her as the pal she’d had in high school, who loved to tell secrets and dated only the strangest guys. She would talk about them forever, too. Cindy also remembered the long talks they used to have about the future. Dalia had always wanted to be an artist or a nurse. Cindy had wanted to be a reporter for the biggest newspaper around. They’d shared their lives and dreams for a few special years, and then drifted apart when they went to different colleges.

  “Cindy, Cindy, is that you?” came an excited voice behind her. She quickly turned.

  A tall, slender, beautiful woman in her thirties with flowing auburn hair was rushing towards her. She had a blue silk printed tropical shirt on, shorts, and lots of bracelets. This wasn’t how Cindy remembered Dalia at all.

  “My God, Cindy,” the woman came up and threw her arms around her. “I almost didn’t recognize you. You look so different. So many years have gone by. ”

  Cindy stepped back and smiled. “I almost didn’t recognize you either. You look beautiful, glamorous. ”

  Dalia bowed her head a little and then looked up. Cindy scrutinized her face more closely then: the high, sculpted cheekbones and unwavering eyes had always been there, but years ago, in high school, hadn’t been so prominent. Dalia hadn’t yet grown into her full self yet. Back then she wore her hair short and close to her face, and was often awkward and volatile. This was a whole new person greeting Cindy now.

  “I can’t believe you actually came down here to help me,” Dalia spoke quickly, her words tripping over each other. “I will never know how to thank you.”

  “I’m happy to do this,” said Cindy. ” I hope I can be of help.”

  “Of course you can.” Dalia stared at Cindy unbelievingly, as if she were looking at a star. “The news of your finding Clint’s murderer was in all the papers down here. I couldn’t believe it when I read what happened — and that it happened to you, too. That very second, I had a flash to call you and ask for help. Something told me that you’d be the one to find Ames. ”

  Cindy wanted to put her hand on Dalia’s arm, to slow her down, quiet her turbulent thoughts. Dalia was living with big hopes that Cindy had no idea if she could fulfill.

  “I’ll try my best to help,” said Cindy.

  “You’ll do more than that — you’ll find Ames” said Dalia, her face growing flushed as she spoke. “I know you will.”

  Cindy remembered the intense hope she’d had right after Clint had disappeared. It was natural. There was no way she could have imagined then that he’d be gone for good. Dalia was obviously still in that phase. It was like being stuck in a dream you couldn’t get out of, seeing only one way it could end.

  “I’ll leave no base uncovered,” Cindy promised, wondering how two friends in high school could have the same fate.

  Cindy suddenly realized how warm and thirsty and she felt. She’d been traveling a while and needed to refresh.

  “I’m so thirsty,” said Cindy.

  “I’m sorry to be going on and on like this,” Dalia tried to quiet down.

  “You must be exhausted after the flight. We’ll go right back to the villa. I told Rosa to have breakfast ready for us when we get there. Then I’ll show you to your room to change and shower. ”

  “Who’s Rosa?” asked Cindy, offhandedly.

  “Our housekeeper. She’s worked for Ames since she was a teenager. When we married, she stayed on with us. She’s actually part of the family by now — I don’t know what I’d do without her. ”

  Cindy was glad Dalia had someone there to care for her during such a terrible time. She remembered how her sister Ann had been there for her when Clint disappeared. It had made a huge difference.

  “I’m glad you have her,” Cindy said.

  “Me too,” said Dalia, “and now I have you, too.”

  She motioned to a tall, thin red cap, who came, picked up Cindy’s luggage, and took it to the car. Cindy and Dalia followed behind him, saying how quickly the years passed and how good it was to see each other again, even in shocking times like these.

  Dalia helped Cindy into the car as if she were a prize possession. Then she went to the driver’s seat, took the wheel and began the trip back to her villa at L’Anse Aux Epines, the southwestern tip of the island.

  As she drove, Dalia rolled down the windows, letting the soft, beautiful breezes in.

  “Grenada is considered the most beautiful of all the Caribbean islands,” she said, trying to make the trip seem normal, and make Cindy feel at home. But Cindy could sense her voice was tense, pressured. “Besides gorgeous beaches,” she went on, “we have tropical rain forests, waterfalls, wild life, scuba diving. L’Anse Aux Epines has some of Grenada’s most magnificent private villas and hotels. That’s where ours is. ”

  “It’s okay, Dalia, slow down,” said Cindy.

  Dalia barely heard a word she said. “Our part of the island is incredible and secluded. Celebrities who want privacy come down here regularly. Ames loves to catch sight of the celebrities on beaches, lolling here and there. ”

  For a moment, Cindy felt as though she were with a tour guide. But the urgency in Dalia’s tone told her otherwise. Perhaps Dalia was orienting her to the place, giving her a broad picture, so Cindy would have some idea how to begin her search. Clearly, in the midst of this incredible paradise, something had gone terribly wrong.

  CHAPTER 2

  The villa Dalia lived in was breathtaking. Perched on the edge of the beach, it sprawled out invitingly over the sand, surrounded by palm trees and flowering bushes.

  “This is magnificent,” Cindy breathed, as she and Dalia walked up the front path. The pungent smell of the flowers, mixed with the smell of sand and sea, was delicious and soothing, making Cindy feel deeply at ease. She had to snap herself out of the soothing state the place put her in, and remember what she was really here for.

  They entered the front gates and walked along the terracotta marble floor through a large hallway that wound around gently. There were huge plants, mirrors, paintings and wooden benches placed along the walls.

  “Your room is that way, off a huge, open patio,” Dalia pointed towards the beach, “Rosa will bring your suitcases. Let me show you where it is. ”

  The room Dalia led Cindy to was beautiful, with floral rugs, large open windows, a white wicker ceiling fan, and vases filled with fresh flowers. A double door led to a huge patio, overlooking the ocean. The patio had lovely plants, a table, chairs and lounges on it. This was a place to unwind in, giving the sense that everything in the world was in perfect order.

  “I feel like I’ve landed two steps from heaven,” Cindy smiled.

  Dalia smiled back strangely. “That’s how I felt when I first got here. I never wanted to leave. ”She looked sadly out over the ocean, her eyes fastening on a lone sail boat gliding by, near the horizon.

  “Sit down,” Dalia said, suddenly. “There’s so much to cover. Are you up to getting started right away? Ames is missing, and every second counts. Rosa can bring our food out here. ”

  “Let’s get going,” said Cindy.

  They sat at a large, wooden slatted table, shaded by a blue striped umbrella.

  “This place originally belonged to Ames,” Dalia started. “He had it designed especially for him. Then, after he met me, he brought me here to live in his home. ”

  Just then, the doors to the patio opened and a young, native woman came in carrying a tray with sandwiches and lemonade. She seemed to be in her late twenties, pretty and slim with smooth dark skin, long hands, but generally uneasy. She wore a strong vanilla perfume, and was dressed very s
imply, in a beige linen dress and sandals.

  “Your luggage is in your room, ma’am,” she said in a muffled tone, looking down.

  “Cindy, this is Rosa,” Dalia said.

  “Hello, Rosa,” said Cindy.

  Rosa nodded, still looking down, not meeting Cindy’s eyes.

  “She’s very shy,” Dalia leaned towards Cindy, whispering. “Do you need anything else she can get for you?”

  “No, it’s fine,” Cindy said, getting up to go to her luggage and get some notebooks she’d packed, with a list of questions on them. Dalia put her hand on Cindy’s arm, to stop her.

  “Tell me what you need and I’ll have Rosa get it.”

  “It’s not necessary,” Cindy said, “I can do it myself,” and she went into the room to open the luggage which Rosa had placed on the floor in her room.

  Rosa slid to the side as Cindy passed, still not looking at her. If Cindy didn’t know she was there, Rosa would almost have blended into the woodwork.

  When Cindy opened her luggage, she saw Rosa look at her out of the corner of her eye, then turn and leave the room.

  Cindy took her notebook and pen out of the briefcase. She’d searched all the papers online and had read everything she could about the case before coming down here. There were mixed stories about what happened, and a lot to learn fast. From what Cindy had gathered in the articles, there was also a large cast of characters who’d been involved in Dalia and Ames’s life. One article said that nobody was beyond suspicion, and nobody could be called a suspect yet.

  When Cindy got back out on the patio, Dalia was sitting with her head in her hands. Cindy felt terrible for her. She sat down next to her and opened her notebook slowly.

  “Have some lemonade first,” Dalia said, her head still in her hands. “Have a sandwich. I’ll talk while you eat. ”

  Cindy reached for a croissant filled with egg salad, and poured herself a glass of lemonade.