by Jaden Skye
“That’s right, she was!” Cindy got excited.
Alain got excited, too. “The guy came down first and then the wife joined him a couple of days later?”
“That’s it,” said Cindy, trembling. “You remember her?”
“I do,” Alain got excited. “I remember the husband mentioned to me that his wife was coming down and where could he get yellow tulips? He said she loved yellow tulips!”
Cindy’s heart began beating terrifically. “That’s right, that’s my sister. She loved yellow tulips, they were her favorite!”
“I noticed he got them,” Alain spoke quickly.
“He was excited she was coming?” asked Cindy.
“Yeah, it seemed that way to me,” Alain said.
Cindy was thrilled to hear this. It was wonderful to talk to someone who had actually seen Ann before she died. She leaned over towards Alain now. “Did you see Ann too?”
“I saw the wife once,” Alain was doing his best to remember details. “They ordered breakfast in the room in the morning.”
“Yes, Ann loved having breakfast in,” Cindy agreed.
“Yeah, yeah, I definitely remember.”
“How did she look?” Cindy hung on every detail, “did she seem happy?”
“Honey, I really hope so. I can’t say, I didn’t look at her so closely. I brought in the tray and the husband signed the check. I saw her sitting there, though. She looked okay to me.”
“She wasn’t okay,” Cindy’s voice started to crack into pieces, “she was in danger and had no idea about it. She died later that afternoon.”
Alain stood up disconcerted. “I’m really sorry to hear this. Truly I am.”
“There were horrible scratches all over her neck,” Cindy went on, “and then she was
smothered.”
“May God, save us,” Alain muttered.
Cindy knew she had to plough on with the interview, go deeper, no matter how lovely Alain seemed.
“I heard you were just fired from your job,” Cindy mentioned.
“Yeah, it’s true,” he said, “damn rotten luck. I’ll get another one though. It’s not getting to me.”
“Why were you fired?” Cindy dug deeper.
Alain started to answer and then fell silent. “Why do you want to know? What’s all this about, anyway?” he asked swiftly.
“You were one of the last ones to see my sister alive,” Cindy answered softly.
At that he spun around in a crazy circle. “You think I did it? It’s me?” he was totally amazed.
“No, I don’t think that,” Cindy answered quickly, “I just need to talk to anyone who saw her and can tell me something.”
“Then why did you ask if I was fired?” Alain only half bought it.
Cindy rose to the occasion. “Sometimes distraught employees who get fired take it out on the hotel guests,” she replied.
“So you thought I might have killed her?” his eyes opened wide again.
“Just a possibility we’re checking on,” replied Cindy.
“Who’s we?” Alain countered.
“I’m also a detective,” Cindy decided to come clean. She didn’t want to hide anything from him and he appreciated it.
“This was your sister killed and you’re a detective?” he wanted to get it straight.
“Right,” said Cindy. “She was found dead in her room late in the afternoon, the day you were fired. You were fired a little after noon.”
“Whew,” Alain looked relieved. “Yeah, I was fired at around twelve thirty and then I went to a local bar right after and hung out there all afternoon. Lots of people saw me. I ate, we talked. Random firings of help aren’t so rare on the Island. I was fired because I had trouble with my boss for the past few weeks. He was getting on my case every second and I finally told him off. It had absolutely nothing to do with your sister. Nothing at all. Not a thing. And believe it or not, I’m sorry to hear about her.”
“I do believe it, Alain,” Cindy said, upset to have had to put him through this. “I’m sorry to upset you like this.”
“You didn’t upset me,” he answered quickly, “and let me tell you something. Bermuda is a hub of rich folks coming down here to invest. It’s crawling with two things, money and cover ups of all kinds. If you think people don’t turn up dead here all the time, take another look. The government hushes it up, but it’s a known fact.”
“Tell me more,” Cindy breathed, “please, I need to hear it.”
“There’s big business here in insurance and re-insurance,” Alain went on defiantly. “People come from all over the world and make piles of dough. There’s almost no taxes for businesses either, they make it easy. Get my drift?”
Cindy got it. “But that had nothing to do with my sister,” said Cindy.“ She’s not in business and never came here before.”
“How about the hubby?” Alain was quick on the draw.
Cindy scanned her memory quickly. Actually Ann had just mentioned that Frank had come down here a bit on business recently, but that couldn’t have anything to do with it. Frank did well back in the states but wasn’t a finance guy, ever. Cindy thought he’d probably just found a new market for his products here.
“My sister’s husband’s not involved in big business,” said Cindy.
Alain shook his head. “Look I don’t have any idea how this happened, but I can tell you one thing. You’re not gonna find the killer, honey. Most murders down here never get solved. These guys have protection around them like iron rings, including from the government. Get it? What happens in Bermuda stays in Bermuda. You take one step too far, and before you know it, you’ll end up like your sister, dead.”
Cindy shuddered.
“It’s dangerous for a beautiful woman like you to go digging around alone,” Alain ran his hands over his face. “Let the police do it. They know what they’re dealing with.”
“But will they do it?” Cindy asked.
“Probably not,” Alain grinned. “They’ll do a little and let it go at that. But if you start digging too much, you’ll make people nervous. Word will get out. Sooner or later you’ll ruffle some feathers. People here have got a lot here to hide.”
“Who will I make nervous?” Cindy was insistent.
“Hell if I know the people involved,” said Alain. “I do know that this is a high stakes game, though. When you work in these hotels you see these heartless beauties coming and going like they owned the world.”
“Maybe they do,” said Cindy.
“They can own whatever they want,” said Alain. “They don’t own my house though, or my life. They got your sister and I’m sorry about it. But be smart, don’t let them get you!”
Just then the doorbell rang loudly. Both of them jumped.
Alain got up, ran towards the front and flung the door open.
“Deidre, thank God,” Cindy heard him yelling. “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for you.”
*
Cindy was tremendously glad she had the cab waiting. She got into it quickly and then fell silent during the ride home.
“Find what you were looking for?” the driver asked, to break the tension in the air.
“Not yet,” whispered Cindy, “but I will.”
“What’s that? I didn’t hear you,” the driver replied, as, suddenly, a dark green car quickly drove too close beside them, almost swiping them off the road.
The cab driver swerved to get away, jostling Cindy into the corner.
“Damn idiots,” he yelled out of the window.
“Who are they? What happened?” Cindy was shaken.
“Stupid drunk drivers in this part of town,” he answered. “Everyone here is drunk or on some kind of drug!”
Cindy felt nauseous. Was Alain right? Was it truly dangerous here for her alone? What good would it do to get wiped out, like Ann had? Who knew who was really in that green car? The police knew where she was, no one else did. Cindy suddenly wondered if Trage had sent the car after he
r?
As they drove out of the neighborhood and closer to the hotel, Cindy felt her head swimming. Should she check in with Trage and tell him what happened? Right now she wasn’t really sure. She knew she needed to de-brief with someone, though. If Mattheus were here, they’d go over every detail and she’d soon be on solid ground. So would the investigation. She couldn’t do this with Trage now – she suddenly wasn’t sure about him. Cindy knew her mind could be playing tricks on her, but she felt danger on all sides of her. One thing she was sure about though, she couldn’t continue alone.
As the cab drove up the swirling driveway to her hotel, Cindy knew she had to call Mattheus. She had to do it for Ann’s sake at least. Alain was right, this was too much for her to take on alone.
*
Cindy got out of the cab, slipped into the lobby and up to her room without anyone noticing. Once inside alone, she pulled out her phone, stepped out onto the patio and looked up at the vast, perfect, blue sky. Then she dialed. As the gentle, puffy white clouds drifted by, Cindy waited for Mattheus.
“Cindy?” he said, the moment he picked up the phone.
Cindy was stunned to actually hear his voice. “Mattheus,” she responded.
“My God, I tried to call you a few times,” he said quickly. “You never picked up.”
“Mattheus,” Cindy echoed again.
“What’s going on? You sound funny,” his voice deepened.
Cindy could barely get the words out. “Ann’s been killed in Bermuda,” she finally whispered.
“What?” Mattheus’s sounded alarmed.
“Murdered in her hotel room,” Cindy’s voice got louder.
“How did it happen? Where are you now?” Mattheus’s sounded uncomprehending.
“I’m here in Bermuda,” Cindy felt as if she were babbling.
“You went down alone? You didn’t call me?” Mattheus could barely believe it. “Why?”
“I need you down here now, Mattheus,” Cindy finally uttered.
“My God,” he sounded overpowered. “Of course you do, of course.”
Cindy sighed quietly.
“Cindy, are you okay? How are you doing?” Mattheus sounded horrified.
“I’m hanging in,” Cindy wanted to cry.
“It’s okay, listen, I’ll be down immediately,” he exclaimed, “on the next flight.”
“Thank you, thank you.” Cindy was filled with enormous relief.
“There’s no reason to thank me,” he said gruffly. “How could I be anywhere else? I’ll leave for the airport right away. I’ll text you the flight information.”
“Thank you, Mattheus,” Cindy breathed again. “I’ll be there to meet you when you arrive.”
Chapter 7
Cindy hung up the phone and lay down on the lounge chair on the patio. She noticed her entire body was drenched with perspiration. Thank God, Mattheus would be here soon. When they spoke on the phone there hadn’t been even the slightest hint of him pulling away. Every fiber of his body was on the alert, he wanted to get here immediately. Cindy was immensely grateful for his response. He hadn’t mentioned Petra once, or said he wanted to stay there with her. Whatever was going on between them didn’t seem to matter so much. He realized this was a true emergency Cindy was involved in and she needed him here at her side - no question about it.
As Cindy lay outside recouping a bit, her phone rang. Was it Mattheus calling back for more information? She picked up quickly, looking forward to talking to him again.
“Where were you this morning, Cindy?” It was her mother. Her voice sounded troubled and filled with blame.
“What’s up, mom?” Cindy decided not to answer her question or respond to the implicit accusation. Cindy had no intention of stepping into Ann’s shoes, mollifying her mother at every turn.
“I kept calling your room and you didn’t answer,” her mother’s words came quickly.
“I’m working on the case now,” Cindy responded, “there are people to see, things to take care of.”
“So that’s what your sister’s become to you, a case?” her mother sounded appalled.
“Ann is many things to me,” Cindy shot back. “She was murdered, mom. It’s a case, we have to find out who did it, don’t we?”
“We have to probe into the sordid details?” her mother sounded dismayed. “Why? What difference will it make? Will it bring your sister back to us, ever? There are far more important things to do right now.”
“Like what?” Cindy was horrified. What could be more important than finding the killer, prevent others from also possibly falling into harm.
“We have to honor Ann’s memory,” her mother went on undeterred, “and do it in the place she died.”
Cindy never could follow her mother’s train of thought, or understand what was important to her. Why should it be any different now, she thought?
“We have to prepare a memorial service,” her mother went on, “stay close to the family, comfort each other, remember the good times.”
Cindy’s mother was asking her to forget about finding the killer and remember the good times. It was an impossible request for Cindy.
“The best way for me to honor Ann’s memory is to get justice for her,” Cindy responded.
“There is no justice, you can’t get justice!” her mother’s voice grew paper thin.
“Oh yes, I can,” Cindy dug in.
“Even if you find the killer, you’re not getting justice!” her mother’s voice got higher. “There will never be justice. Ann’s life was cut short for no reason.”
“There is a reason,” Cindy said staunchly, “And I’m going to find it.”
“Well, I’m planning a memorial on the beach for the day after tomorrow,” her mother continued. “You can be there, or not.”
Cindy took a deep breath. “Of course I’ll be there,” she said quietly. Her mother was suffering, Cindy had to do something to help her as well.
“But you won’t help me plan the memorial, will you?” her mother was outraged. But whatever Cindy did or didn’t do, her mother was outraged. It had been that way since she was a little girl. They occupied two different universes.
“I’m not helping you plan a memorial right now,” Cindy held her ground. “I have other things to focus on.”
“Then, at least tell Frank to get to my room,” her mother demanded. “I know he’ll want to have a say in it. I know he’ll be happy we’re doing it.”
It suddenly struck Cindy that the bail hearing should be over by now. She could most likely get Frank released right away and bring him to her mother.
“That I can do for you,” said Cindy quickly, sitting upright on the lounge. “I’ll go get Frank and bring him to you as soon as possible.”
“Fine,” her mother seemed mollified. “Do it this minute, if you can.”
*
Thankfully, bail had been granted. When Cindy called Trage he told her she could come and take Frank back with her now. He and his possessions were being placed in her custody. Cindy agreed, grabbed a cold glass of water, washed her face quickly, brushed her hair and ran downstairs to get to the jail and bring Frank back.
When Cindy arrived Trage was waiting for her. “Good to see you, Cindy,” he reached out his hand. “Frank’s ready to go.”
“Thanks so very much for this,” Cindy breathed.
“No problem,” said Trage, “Did you check on Alain yet?”
Cindy looked at Trage carefully. He was the only one who knew she’d gone to see him. Once again Cindy wondered if Trage had anything to do with the green car that practically swiped her off the road? She pulled back a bit. Cindy knew you couldn’t give someone your trust, until you were absolutely certain about who they were.
“As a matter of fact, I did see Alain,” she replied courteously. “He’s a nice guy with a rock solid alibi. I’ll give you the details, you can check them out. I found no reason to doubt him.”
“Okay, thanks for that,” Trage commented. “We can
eliminate him then?”
“Absolutely,” said Cindy, still wondering whether or not she should mention the green car. She decided to wait though and talk it over first with Mattheus.
“How about you? How are you doing?” Trage took a step closer, looking into her eyes.
“I’m doing fine, thanks,” said Cindy. “In fact, after I saw Alain, I took your advice and called my partner, Mattheus to come down and help with the case.”
Trage looked surprised. “That’s a wise step to take,” he answered carefully. “What made you decide?”
Cindy ignored the question. “Mattheus will be here on the next flight. As soon as he arrives I’ll bring him over and introduce him. He’ll be a great help with the case.”
“Thanks for letting me know,” said Trage.
“You’ll like him,” said Cindy. “He’s a great detective and it looks like we need all the support we can get.”
Trage wrote something down on a piece of paper, looked up at her, nodded and then led her down to the end of the hallway to sign Frank’s parole.
*
Frank was delighted to walk out of the jail beside Cindy, and into the cab that Trage had waiting. He looked deeply shaken and discombobulated, though.
“I’ll never forget you did this for me,” Frank said, putting his hand on Cindy’s arm. “Never.”
“It’s just the beginning,” Cindy said as the cab took off.
“What do you mean? What happens now?” Frank was practically spluttering.
“My mother and uncles are at the hotel,” Cindy replied, “they want to see you immediately.”“They’re at the same hotel we’re staying at?” Frank seemed happy to hear it.
“Yes,” said Cindy. “In fact my mother’s planning a memorial for Ann tomorrow, on the beach.”
Frank looked stunned. “A memorial now? It’s too soon, besides no one’s here.”
“We’re here,” said Cindy.
“Just us?” Frank was wide eyed.
“Everyone has their own way of dealing with things,” Cindy replied. “You know my mother better than I do. I guess she’s doing what she can to feel alright.” Frank knew more about lots of things involving the family than Cindy did. He saw her mother all the time, had been much closer to her than Cindy had. “Tell me more about my mother, Frank,” Cindy went on.