Death by Request (Book #11 in the Caribbean Murder series)

by Jaden Skye

  “Of course, I’m sure,” Loretta exclaimed. “I spent time in that room with my mother. I saw the woman there, even talked to her.”

  “You talked to that woman while she was in a coma?” asked Cindy, horrified.

  “No, I spoke to her while she was recovering,” Loretta said. “In fact, I even went to visit her in the new room she’s in to check on how she’s doing.”

  Chills rose through Cindy’s spine. Why hadn’t anyone mentioned this other woman?

  “Seems like you know a lot, Loretta,” Mattheus said slowly, impressed.

  “Yes, I do,” said Loretta, “though no one believes me. They think I’m here because I want money or something.”

  “Do you?” he asked.

  Loretta laughed. “The last thing I need is my mother’s money. My father is richer than Owen and even though he’s sick of me now, he still gives me whatever I need.”

  “So, why did you come here, really?” asked Mattheus, zeroing in.

  At that Loretta’s head snapped back to attention. “I came to tell my mother what I think of her,” she said swiftly.

  “What do you think of her?” asked Cindy, afraid to hear what the girl would say.

  “I think my mother missed out on the best thing in her life by getting rid of me!” Loretta’s voice rose harshly, causing everyone in the room to look her way.

  Jenna got up and came over quickly. “It’s okay, Loretta,” Jenna said in a soothing tone.

  “What’s okay? Nothing’s okay!” Loretta started yelling louder, pulling at the pendant around her frail neck.

  “Don’t do that to the pendant,” Jenna tried to stop her.

  “I’ll do what I want. You can’t stop me,” Loretta fought back.

  “That pendant belonged to Tara,” Jenna looked at Cindy and Mattheus for help. “I have no idea how Loretta got it.”

  “I took it from the room,” said Loretta holding the pendant fiercely to her chest. “It belonged to my mother and I have a right to a dying gift. You got a problem with that?”

  “I don’t have a problem with you having your mother’s necklace,” Jenna backed down, fearfully.

  Thankfully, at that moment, the door to the waiting room opened again, and an official, dressed in a white uniform entered somberly.

  “The cremation is over,” he announced. “Peace be with all.”

  *

  After the family hugged each other and said a few more words, they filed out of the waiting room quietly, leaving Loretta behind. Cindy felt concerned about her.

  “What are you going to do now?” Cindy asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Loretta, looking at Cindy, restless. “I want to stay around until the case is closed. Is there something I can do to help?”

  “Like what?” asked Cindy, surprised.

  “Maybe I can do something like you do,” Loretta seemed completely forlorn. “You can give me assignments and I’ll help you with them. I could be a great detective, too.”

  “Yes, you could be a great detective,” Cindy answered, “and I wish I could give you an assignment, but I can’t. It’s complicated.”

  “Everything is complicated,” Loretta wouldn’t take no for an answer. “But for a good detective complications don’t matter. They see right through bullshit, do what they have to, take action.”

  “I have an assignment for you, Loretta,” Mattheus broke in. Obviously, he was taken with her, wanted to help prop her up.

  “Great,” said Loretta, eager.

  “First of all, find out where the woman is now who shared a room with your mother! They may have moved her. Let us know,” said Mattheus.

  Loretta was excited. “Definitely, I will,” she said. “Also, I can tell you that her name was Ann. From the first minute I saw her I knew she’d be fine.”

  Cindy swallowed hard at the sound of her sister’s name, suddenly missing her deeply.

  “Ann was also in her forties,” Loretta filled Cindy and Mattheus in. “She was also in a bad accident, but I knew she’d wake up and be fine. I even said that to her when she was sleeping,”

  “You didn’t think your mother would be fine though, did you?” Mattheus interrupted.

  “No, I knew she wouldn’t,” said Loretta. “And part of me wondered if she even wanted to die.”

  “You didn’t help your mother die, did you?” asked Cindy, startled. She couldn’t miss an opportunity to follow up on the comment.

  “I had nothing to do with my mother’s dying,” Loretta was offended. “I didn’t think she’d wake up, but I didn’t kill her, either. There’s no reason for you to say something like that.”

  Mattheus took out his card then and gave it to Loretta. “Go do the assignment I’ve given you,” he said “and contact me at this phone number.”

  Loretta took the card, delighted. “I’ll be right on it,” she breathed and left.

  Cindy and Mattheus stared at each other then.

  “She needs something, needs someone,” Mattheus murmured. “She needs to feel she can make a difference in this world.”

  Cindy was touched by Mattheus’s wisdom and caring. “You’re right, she does,” Cindy replied, “and it was good of you to give her that assignment. But what I can’t get over is why no one told us about the other woman who shared Tara’s room?”

  “There’s a lot of things no one told us,” Mattheus grumbled. “So, we’ll find out where she is and go talk to her ourselves.”

  “I’ll go speak to her myself,” said Cindy. “It could be too much to have both of us in her hospital room.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Mattheus agreed. “In the meantime, I want to dig into the medical mistakes in this hospital, and spend more time with Konrad. There’s a jazz festival coming up I was invited to where hospital officials will be present.”

  “Great,” said Cindy, grateful for the new possibilities.

  “I’m glad we’ve got Loretta on our team, too,” said Mattheus. “She could find out things that would be hidden from us.”

  Cindy was not sure what Mattheus was talking about. “Since when is Loretta on our team?”

  “The kid’s alone, she’s got no one,” said Mattheus.

  “Excuse me, she told us she had a rich father she lives with, who gives her everything,” Cindy objected, not at all sure she wanted Loretta on their team. There were too many loopholes in her story and situation.

  “But her mother just died,” Mattheus wouldn’t drop it.

  “A mother she never knew,” Cindy reminded him.

  “All the more reason why this has to be a total nightmare for her,” Mattheus persisted.

  Cindy wondered if Loretta didn’t remind Mattheus of his own long lost daughter. Was he helping Loretta as a way to be close to his own daughter as well?

  “Loretta’s not on our team, Mattheus,” Cindy broke into the fantasy he was developing. “She’s a young girl whose mother just died. She’s strong, she’s interesting, but we really know nothing about her. If she wants to become a detective one day, she can go about it with her father’s support. It’s not up to us to take over her life.”

  “You’re right again,” said Mattheus, suddenly sorrowful. “I just wanted to help her through.”

  Chapter 16

  Loretta contacted Mattheus and Cindy immediately with the number of the room where Ann was recuperating. Cindy decided to go immediately and Mattheus left to continue his research on medical mistakes at the hospital. Cindy walked down the hallway looking for the room. Fortunately, it was a private room, and when Cindy arrived, Ann was alone.

  Cindy walked into the room quietly, looking at Ann who was resting in bed, her eyes half closed. Ann was a sensitive looking woman, but frail now and thin. Her taut face clearly showed the enormous strain she’d just been through.

  As Cindy approached the bedside she wished her own sister Ann was alive, that she could be visiting her as well.

  “Hello, Ann,” said Cindy, as she took a seat beside her bed.
r />   Ann tossed a moment, groaned softly and slowly opened her eyes. Cindy felt badly disturbing her, but there was no other choice.

  “Who are you?” asked Ann, rolling her head over and looking at Cindy. “Are you from the social work office?”

  “No, I’m not,” Cindy replied. “Are you expecting someone?”

  “No, not at all,” Ann propped herself up a bit, seemingly glad to have a visitor. “It’s just that all kinds of people keep coming in, checking on how I’m doing and what’s happening next.”

  “How are you doing?” Cindy asked, sincerely, wanting to know.

  “Much better,” Ann smiled, “I can’t believe how I’m improving day by day.”

  “I’m so glad,” Cindy answered warmly, as if the two of them were old friends.

  “Why are you here?” Ann woke up fully then, interested in who Cindy was.

  “I’m a private detective,” said Cindy more quietly. “Have you heard about what happened to the woman you shared the room with?”

  Ann’s eyes opened wider. “Yes, I heard she passed away,” she said breathlessly.

  “Yes,” said Cindy, looking away a moment. She felt odd talking about death with someone who had just been in a coma herself. “I’m sorry to have to bring this up.”

  “No, go right ahead,” said Ann, fascinated. “I didn’t think she would die, I thought she would make it. I thought both of us would be better one day.”

  “What made you think that?” asked Cindy fascinated.

  “I didn’t know her, but I liked her,” said Ann. “Laying so close to someone, sharing the same room, struggling for life, you feel a bond.”

  “I can understand,” said Cindy.

  “Really, can you?” Ann’s eyes lit up. “No one else seems to. I try talking about it and everyone just tells me to put it out of my mind and rest.”

  “That must be frustrating,” said Cindy.

  “Is it ever,” Ann propped herself up on her elbows and spoke more intensely. “I don’t want to rest, I want to talk. I’ve heard a lot of things. When you’re in a coma people say everything right in front of you and think you don’t hear. They’re so wrong. Sometimes you’re there, other times not. Sometimes you can listen to every word, other times you’re drifting away.”

  “Where are you drifting, tell me?” Cindy felt her heart beating hard.

  Ann looked at Cindy sadly, feeling her desperation. “It’s a beautiful place,” Ann whispered softly, “there’s no danger there at all.”

  Cindy closed her eyes swiftly. Was it true what Ann was saying or was she only imagining it? Cindy could find out, she could see if what Ann told her could be corroborated.

  “What did you hear when you were in the coma, Ann?” Cindy continued with bated breath.

  “When I heard things I’m not sure I was in the coma,” Ann responded thoughtfully. “Sometimes you’re in, sometimes you’re out.”

  “What did you hear when you were more awake?” Cindy pursued it.

  “I heard the doctors around me saying that I was doing better,” Ann was reflecting. “That helped me so much. I heard my husband tell me he loved me over and over, that he was waiting for me to return.”

  “Was it true that he said that? Have you asked him?” said Cindy.

  “Yes,” Ann smiled, “he told me he said that to me again and again.”

  That was encouraging, but not enough proof for Cindy. Ann could have expected her husband to say that, imagined she actually heard those words. Cindy needed more.

  “You were laying close to Tara,” Cindy’s voice got lower. “Did you hear her husband say the same thing to her?” she asked.

  Ann’s eyes closed a moment then opened. “No, I didn’t,” she replied. “I remember hoping he would, but he didn’t.”

  Ann said that with such intensity that Cindy felt jarred. “Did you hear him say anything to her?”

  “I actually did,” Ann spoke hesitantly. “It was strange, it bothered me, I didn’t like it.”

  “What did he say?” Cindy felt alarmed.

  “I kept hearing him say over and over that Tara would never be beautiful again,” Ann mouthed the words carefully.

  Cindy started to shiver. She’d heard that exact report before. How else could Ann know if she hadn’t really heard?

  “I wanted Owen to stop saying that,” Ann continued, gripped by the memory, “but I couldn’t speak. It was a terrible feeling.”

  “Horrible,” Cindy sympathized. “Please tell me, did Owen say anything else that you remember?”

  “That’s all I remember hearing from him,” Ann trembled for a moment. “When I came down here to my new room I heard that someone put something into Tara’s IV to help it be over.”

  “Exactly,” said Cindy, “that’s why I’m here.”

  “I also heard they’re blaming Owen,” Ann spoke very slowly, trying to put the pieces together.

  “Yes, that’s so,” said Cindy. “I need to talk to you about it because you were there in the room with them.”

  “Yes, I was,” said Ann promptly, “But I recovered and Tara did not. I’m so sorry.”

  “That’s not the point,” Cindy reached out to her, soothingly. “Is there anything else you remember Ann? I need you to tell me.”

  “Yes, I heard other things, but no one believes me,” Ann started to babble.

  “Tell me, I’ll believe you,” said Cindy. “Not only will I believe you, but you may be the one able to help Tara.”

  “How?” Ann looked frightened.

  “You can help me get justice for her, find the real killer,” Cindy breathed.

  “Oh God,” Ann exclaimed, “yes, there was a lot I heard, a lot happened.”

  “What? What?” asked Cindy intensely.

  “It was never peaceful on her side of the room,” Ann started, “but the night Tara died the upset was awful. I felt it and heard it. It was just before they transferred me to a different floor. I thought they transferred me because of all the commotion going on over there.

  “What commotion?” Cindy was both startled and thrilled to hear this. She felt as if she’d hit a vein of gold. Ann was an incredible find. Could it be she was the perfect witness and held the key to unlocking the case? After all, she was there and awake the night Tara died.

  Ann’s voice dropped lower then, as if making sure no one else could hear. “All of a sudden Tara’s part of the room got very crowded. At first I thought it was because the night nurse was off and others were coming in to take over. I wondered if it was Tara’s family, but then I realized that the day nurse, Alana, was there.”

  “Alana? You’re sure it was her?” Cindy’s body grew chilled.

  “Absolutely,” said Ann. “She was restless, irritated, you could feel it from a mile away. By the way, did you know that Alana was also the nurse of the other woman in the hospital who died unexpectedly a few weeks before?”

  “No,” Cindy gasped, “I had no idea of that at all.”

  “It’s true though,” Ann was on a roll now. “I heard my nurse speaking about it to someone yesterday.”

  “Was Alana your nurse as well?” Cindy felt all a stir. Was it possible that Alana was a killer, had harmed all of her patients? Was she getting some kind of revenge?

  “Alana wasn’t my nurse, just Tara’s,” Ann continued. “Anyway, that last night, Alana kept pacing around, muttering loudly. She thought she was in the room alone with Tara, but she wasn’t. I was there, I could hear her, but she had no idea.”

  “Did Owen do anything about it?” Cindy was quick on the draw.

  “Not that I know of,” said Ann. “I just heard Alana’s voice getting louder and louder. She was snapping at Tara, saying she was fed up. I wondered what she was fed up with, or if maybe she was drunk. Then Alana started cursing her job and telling Tara to make up her mind already, live or die. It was enough, time to make up her mind!”

  “How dare she?” breathed Cindy.

  “Alana’s a tough customer,”
Ann continued, “I never liked her the whole time. I felt her resentment pour through the place.”

  “Owen didn’t say anything?” Cindy had to be certain.

  “I didn’t hear him,” Ann repeated, “but, believe it or not, I heard Tara’s voice.”

  “You heard what?” Cindy couldn’t compute it.

  “I heard Tara say, I want to die, I want to die, please help me,” breathed Ann.

  “How is this possible?” asked Cindy.

  “It’s more than possible, it’s what happened,” Ann insisted. “I remember how shocked I was to actually hear Tara’s voice. It was thin, but lovely. But I didn’t like what she was saying. It hurt me that she wanted to die.”

  “My God,” Cindy breathed. “Did you tell anyone about this?”

  “Of course I did,” said Ann fervently. “I told everyone – no one cared or believed me. They thought I was still foggy from the coma. My husband said I should stay out of the quagmire, that I’d been through enough.”

  “Did your husband believe what you heard Tara say?” Cindy was incredulous.

  “I don’t think he did,” Ann’s eyes filled with tears. “Then I told my nurse but she brushed if off. She said we think all kinds of things when we’re half awake, half dreaming.”

  “Could you have been dreaming Ann?” Cindy quieted down.

  “No, I wasn’t, I’m sure,” Ann looked at Cindy beseechingly. “You have to believe me, you promised you would.”

  “Did you hear anything else?” Cindy didn’t want Ann to lose her faith in her. But this was a lot to believe.

  “Yes,” Ann went on fervently, “I even heard Konrad come into the room to talk to Alana.”

  “How do you know who Konrad is?” Cindy’s teeth suddenly started chattering.

  “I know who Konrad is because Alana called him by name,” said Ann. “Alana sounded surprised to see him and said, Konrad, what in the world are you doing here?”

  There was no possible way Ann could know about Konrad unless she actually heard his name, thought Cindy. Was it possible everything she said was true?

  “What was Konrad doing there in the hospital room?” Cindy asked, agitated.