by Jaden Skye
“Actually, I have,” he responded. “It’ll only be a little while.”
“That helps,” said Cindy, grateful. “I’m sure my mother will want to have him back with her at the hotel.”
They drove up to the hotel entrance and Cindy put her hand on Trage’s for a second.
“Thank you again and again for everything,” she murmured.
“Go see your family now, Cindy,” Trage replied in a low voice.
*
As soon as Cindy got out of the car and stepped into the lobby she realized how completely exhausted she was. The only thing she wanted to do was go and lay on her patio in the sun, regain her strength before taking the next steps.
As was her habit, Cindy walked to the front desk to check for messages, before going upstairs. To her surprise a note was waiting from her mother, written in a scrawled handwriting.
Urgent, your uncles and I are in our room on the sixth floor, waiting. We need to see you immediately!
Cindy’s hands shook as she read the desperate words. Seeing her mother and uncles now would only make her feel worse - but what choice did she have? They were all living in the same nightmare together. Cindy picked up the house phone and called.
“Cindy, where were you?” a high, shrill voice answered on the other end. It was her mother, completely beside herself. Of course she was, thought Cindy. How could it be otherwise? Ann had always been her mother’s favorite. She’d lived close to her mother her whole life long.
“Where are you? Where are you?”Cindy’s mother kept uttering.
“I just got back to the hotel,” Cindy mustered her strength. “I’m working on the case, mom.”
“No, you’re not,” her mother snapped. “Enough, enough, get right up here this minute. I’ve got to see you immediately.”
Cindy was filled with horror for the entire family. “I’m on the way up,” she replied.
As Cindy stepped into the elevator and pressed the sixth floor, she realized that she hadn’t seen or spoken to her mother since Clint had died, almost two years ago. How could so much time have elapsed without either of them being in touch? But it wasn’t surprising. Even during all the years growing up, Ann had stepped in and filled in the gap. For as long as Cindy could remember Ann had been both a big sister and a mother to her.
As the elevator climbed to her mother’s floor Cindy thought about her. She remembered how when Clint had died, her mom had been horrified that Cindy wouldn’t return home to Wisconsin and live in the bosom of the family again. When Cindy had chosen to become a detective, her mother went crazy. There was no understanding Cindy, her mother had told Ann, there never was and never would be. Ann hadn’t repeated that to Cindy, Frank had. Frank always seemed to enjoy telling Cindy the inside story of what was going on in the family. Frank seemed to enjoy the fact that Ann was the favorite daughter and Cindy had always been the black sheep.
Cindy got off at the sixth floor and walked down to the room where her mother was staying. She stood outside it a moment before ringing the bell. Would her mother want her to take on Ann’s role now? Was she going to insist that Cindy move back home again?
Cindy rang the bell lightly. In a flash of a moment, the door was pulled open and Cindy’s uncle Ben stood there. He looked flushed and worn to the bone.
“Come in, come in,” he uttered, waving her in.
The room was similar to Cindy’s, elegant, well appointed, airy, certainly not a room to mourn in.
Cindy’s mom, tall, beautiful and as well groomed as ever, stood up from the round chair she’d been seated on. For a second Cindy thought her mother would run over, embrace her, sob with her. But the moment passed. It didn’t happen, never had. Instead, her mother simply started pacing back and forth. Except for the glassy, crazed look in her azure eyes, she didn’t look a bit different than she had two years ago.
“Your mother’s beside herself,” her uncle Ben half moaned, before going back to sit down again on the couch. Cindy looked over and saw her other uncle Charlie seated there as well. Cindy had rarely seen Uncle Charlie all the years growing up. Charlie was her father’s brother, someone her mother never wanted around. Cindy was amazed to see him here now.
Charlie looked over at Cindy, interested to see her, as well.
“Wonderful of you to come so quickly,” Charlie said, standing up and offering his hand.
Cindy moved a step closer and took his hand. “Good of you to come, too,” Cindy replied.
Charlie’s weather beaten face creased as he smiled in appreciation. “Your Uncle Ben called me and told me about this as soon as it happened. He asked me to come, I’m not sure why. But of course I said I’d be here immediately. It’s great that you’re on the case, Cindy.”
“What’s great about it?” Cindy’s mother broke in sardonically. “One daughter dead and another in danger? Not that Cindy has ever actually been a daughter to me!”
Disturbed, Ben jumped up again and ran to Cindy’s mother. “Your mother can’t stop thinking the worst,” Ben explained to Cindy. “She hasn’t stopped pacing since we got the news, either. I told her she’ll get a heart attack herself if she doesn’t calm down.”
“What difference does it make if I live or die?” Cindy’s mother’s voice was both shrill and breathless. “Is it true? Is it possible that Ann is gone?” she glared at Cindy then, as if Cindy herself was responsible for it.
“We’re looking into every detail,” Cindy decided to assume a calm, professional tone.
“That’s not what I asked you? I asked is your sister gone?” Her mother’s eyes flashed at her. “You never could answer anything directly. It’s a simple question, isn’t it?”
Simple and not so simple, thought Cindy. “Yes, Ann has passed away,” she finally answered her mother plainly, affirming the awful truth for herself as well.
Her mother’s body shook as she burrowed her head onto Ben’s shoulder.
“Who knows why, Claudia? Who knows anything?” Ben murmured to her. “You have to be brave, I need you to be brave.”
“I never was brave, Ben,” Cindy’s mother responded.
Cindy took a deep breath as her uncle Charlie came over to her then.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Cindy,” Charlie was both kind and straightforward.
“Thank you,” replied Cindy. “Thank you for being here, too.”
“I’m as shocked by this death as everyone,” he replied.
“You’re not as shocked as I am,” Cindy’s mother threw her head back. “You barely knew the family. They barely knew you. Now you’ll never know, Ann – ever!”
Cindy saw her Uncle Charlie’s eye start to twitch. “It’s okay,” she said to him. “At a time like this people lash out. They don’t know what else to do. My mother’s not in her right mind now.”
“Never was,” Uncle Charlie said to Cindy under his breath. “I always knew what my brother was up against.”
Cindy flinched at what he said, though she really liked him. Charlie was honest and direct and Cindy respected that; nothing at all like the picture her mother had painted of him. But nothing ever was, thought Cindy. Her mother always occupied her own reality. Either you joined her in it, or you did not. Ann had chosen to join their mother, Cindy had refused.
“I am taking the ashes home and burying them close by,” Cindy’s mother pulled away from Ben and began pacing again. “But I also want the first memorial service for Ann to take place as soon as possible, right here in Bermuda, where she died.”
It was all too much for Cindy to take in right now.
“We’ll work it out later on,” Ben tried consoling his sister again.
“And where’s Frank?” her mother’s voice rose another octave as she faced Cindy again. “I’ve called his room three times and he hasn’t answered.”
“Probably busy,” Ben suggested.
Cindy realized her mother and uncles didn’t know Frank was being held by the police. She certainly wasn’t going to tell them and agit
ate them further. There was no need to. Cindy was in the process of getting him released from jail so he would be able to join everyone shortly. It could only be a matter of hours.
“Frank’s busy with the police,” Cindy said then, in an extremely even tone. “He’ll be available in a little while. Don’t worry yourselves about it.”
Her mother let out a little sigh of relief. “At least that’s something,” she breathed. “I’ll feel better when I see him. After all, he’s part of Ann, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is,” said Cindy.
“And so is Cindy a part of Ann,” Charlie chimed in. “Personally, I feel better now that I see her.”
Charlie’s words flowed through Cindy like warm ambrosia. But Cindy’s mother looked at him oddly.
“What do you know about Cindy and Ann’s relationship?” she asked him.
“Doesn’t take much to see that Ann had a beautiful and devoted sister,” Charlie responded.
“You just see the tip of the iceberg, Charlie,” Cindy’s mother scoffed.
To Cindy’s great delight, Charlie stood up to her mother. “I don’t see any iceberg, Claudia,” he replied. “I see a warm, devoted, caring sister.”
“Who ran away and left the family,” Cindy’s mother burst in. “Who lives and works in the Caribbean with some kind of crazy, detective partner that none of us have even met.”
Cindy knew her mother was referring to Mattheus.
Charlie looked interested, “Is that right, Cindy?”
“Mattheus is far from crazy,” Cindy said quietly.
“Where is he then?” asked her mother. “What kind of partner leaves a woman alone to deal with something like this?”
Cindy turned her back to her mother. What went on between her and Mattheus was absolutely none of her business.
“Have you told your partner what happened?” Charlie asked warmly.
“When I’m ready,” Cindy responded to him. “He’s on another case right now.”
Charlie took a step closer to her. “Everything happens when the time is right,” he comforted her.
Cindy was grateful for his comment, but had nothing further to say to anyone then. Thankfully just at that moment her phone rang. She picked it up immediately, and to her surprise, Trage was on the other end.
“I’ve got a piece of news for you,” Trage started, “are you up for it?”
“Definitely,” Cindy replied. She couldn’t think of anything she’d rather have now that a piece of news or lead to follow.
“Okay,” Trage continued, “we just heard that a guy named Alain, who was on the hotel staff was suddenly fired. No one knows why.”
“Yes?” Cindy wanted more.
“The point is,” Trage continued, “Alain personally delivered room service to Ann and Frank’s room twice since they were here.”
“Why was he suddenly fired?” Cindy asked interested.
“That’s for us to find out,” Trage replied. “The guy lives in a shanty home in a local village about fifteen miles away. We thought you could get more out of him than if he were visited by police.”
“I’m on it,” said Cindy, mobilized.
“Great. I’ll text you his address and directions to get there,” said Trage.
“I’ll leave immediately,” Cindy replied and hung up the phone.
“Leave to go where?” Cindy’s mother’s eyes flew open, alarmed.
“There’s a new lead on the case I have to check out,” Cindy replied methodically.
“They don’t have a police force who can do it themselves?” her mother grew more agitated. “They need to put my other daughter in harm’s way?”
Cindy turned and looked at her mother directly. “This is my work, mom,” she replied. “I do it all the time, I’m good at it. I’m not in danger, just exploring a lead.”
Charlie took a step closer to Cindy then. “Maybe I can go with you?” he asked tenderly.
“Thanks, Charlie,” Cindy looked at him warmly. “It’s best if I handle this one alone.”
Chapter 6
Grateful for any excuse to get away, Cindy raced out of her mother’s room and down to the lobby. Then she took the first cab she could get to Back o’ Town, where Alain lived. As she got into the cab, Cindy decided not to call and let him know she was arriving. It would be better to take him by surprise; that would be the best way to get him to talk.
The taxi wound its way along the roads, crisscrossing the beautiful Island. The mist had lifted and the trees, shrubs and local buildings looked pristine in the afternoon light. Bermuda was manicured, and exquisitely designed without the least hint of the chaos and disorder you found on other islands in the Caribbean.
“Back o Town is not the best destination,” the driver remarked as they approached. “Not a good idea for a woman to spend time here alone.”
“Why not?” Cindy was interested.
“We got our share of drug dealers hanging around the island, like anywhere else,” the driver spoke plainly. “This is where most of them live. You get gang on gang crime here – a few shootings. No one can stop some of this junk from slipping in. Otherwise, we’re one of the safest places you can find. We’re under British rule, and the British know what they’re doing.”
This place wasn’t so safe for Ann though, thought Cindy. “What about random murder of tourists?” Cindy questioned him quickly.
“Nah,” the driver shook his head. “Doesn’t happen. We’re civilized here. Nothing goes that far.”
Cindy gritted her teeth, glad to be going to a local district, eager to face off with Alain. She suddenly had a flash of how Mattheus had felt when he was on the hunt to find his former wife’s killer. It was personal and a streak of revenge had burned through him the whole time. That streak of revenge burned now through Cindy as well. The feeling was new to her and terrifying. But Cindy was relieved that the police let her know about Alain; at least they were letting her in on the investigation, keeping her informed.
The taxi drove across narrower roads now, through low hanging trees, and around small shanty homes crowded together. Debris was scattered on the streets and through some of the open windows you could hear loud voices and music playing. As they approached Alain’s address, an odd sense of oppression filled Cindy’s heart.
The driver slowed down, looking for the exact number Cindy had given him. He finally stopped in front of a wooden cottage that sloped to the side.
“How long do you plan to be here? Want me to wait for you?” the driver seemed slightly apprehensive.
“I’ll be awhile,” Cindy replied, though she had no sense at all how long it would be, or whether Alain would even be here.
“For an extra fifty bucks I’ll wait nearby. You can call me when you’re done and I’ll be right over.”
It seemed like a good idea to Cindy. She paid the driver, she ordered the return trip.
As Cindy watched the driver pulled away, the low hanging trees overhead rustled. Cindy suddenly felt forlorn. Her visit with her mother had been unnerving, Ann was gone and so was Mattheus. Cindy felt as if she were truly treading the road alone. For a second Cindy thought of how Ann would feel seeing her like this, unprotected, roaming about in places she didn’t belong. Ann wouldn’t like it, she’d tell Cindy to get out of there immediately. Ann never ventured out of familiar territory, she’d created a life of total safety, and look what had happened to her now. The memory of her sister stretched out on the slab shot through Cindy’s heart like an arrow. Try as hard as Ann did to be safe, she couldn’t escape her destiny, though.
Cindy walked to the small door of the house and boldly rang the bell. For a few moments, no one answered. Just as Cindy was going to ring again, she heard footsteps approaching.
“Deidre?” a male voice inside called out. Clearly he was expecting someone.
“It’s Cindy Blaine,” Cindy answered as the footsteps came up close to the door.
The door opened suddenly and a tall, young, attractive, Caribb
ean man in jeans stood at the door. He looked as surprised as Cindy.
“I’m Cindy Blaine,” Cindy repeated more loudly.
“Who?” He seemed confused. “I was expecting my sister, Deidre.”
“Alain?” Cindy asked.
“Yes, do I know you?” he replied.
“May I come in a few minutes and talk to you?” Cindy tried to smile.
“Sure, come in,” he was cordial and curious. “Who are you? What’s going on?”
Cindy followed him into a small, freshly painted room with slanty windows and a wicker couch.
“Thanks so much,” Cindy murmured, as he pointed to a chair.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he smiled. “Want a drink?”
“No, thanks so much.” Cindy was grateful for his hospitality. He certain didn’t seem to be hiding anything, or feel uneasy about her visit.
“My name is Cindy Blaine,” Cindy repeated, now nervous.
He sat opposite her on an ottoman. “You told me that already, honey,” he answered, “now tell me what you’re doing here?”
“My sister was killed a couple of days ago,” Cindy blurted out, feeling herself flush.
“Dear God,” he replied.
“It happened at the hotel you were working at,” the words tumbled out by themselves. “You know who she was. You brought room service to her.”
His eyes opened wide. “Which room?”
“Her name was Ann, she was here with her husband Frank. Room 323. Do you remember?” asked Cindy nervously.
Alain leaned forward. “That’s a terrible thing that happened to your sister,” he said quietly. “I didn’t hear about it.”
“Horrible,” Cindy agreed. “Please try to remember her!”
“Let me think,” he replied, scanning his memory. “Describe her to me.”
“She was in her early forties, beautiful, gracious,” Cindy started, her eyes quickly smarting with tears.
Alain closed his eyes, seeming to scrutinize his memory. “Yeah, yeah,” he said suddenly, “was she married to a big, heavy set guy?”