Jaden Skye - Caribbean Murder 05 - Death by Deceit

by Jaden Skye

“I’m sorry,” said Cindy, “I really am.”

  “Me, too,” said Barbara, “it’s a tremendous loss.”

  *

  Barbara led Cindy into a large auditorium, which was filled with an assortment of people who’d come for the monthly lecture.

  “We recommend that the residents come every month,” said Barbara. “It takes time to really understand what abuse really is, to get the whole picture. It’s so confusing and so horrific, it can take a long time to sink in.”

  “Who else is here?” Cindy was fascinated.

  “There are people here from all over South Florida - lawyers, pastors, doctors, nurses, social workers. We’re a model Shelter. We keep on top of all the research, offer all kinds of counseling, groups, re-training.”

  Cindy was impressed. It changed her view of Shelly as well, to think that she worked here for so long, and was so respected. At that moment Cindy realized that Mattheus had actually told Cindy very little about her. When he’d talked about her, it was always about him, and his craving to find the killer. How much had he actually known about her, anyway? Cindy suddenly wondered.

  Barbara led Cindy to a seat that had been reserved for them in the front row. “It’s always special to us when law enforcement attends the orientation,” Barbara said. “Everyone needs to be really educated about domestic violence. So many things are overlooked, especially by the police. They think they know what it is, and they don’t. Not really. It’s easy to minimize things.”

  “I can only imagine,” Cindy said.

  “It’s especially wonderful to have a woman detective with us,” Barbara added, smiling at Cindy again. “It’s quite a journey you must have been on to decide to take a job like this.”

  Cindy had never thought of it that way. She hadn’t considered how her journey might be of help to those who were abused, living here in hiding. She was pleased to be valued and recognized and to feel that somehow, she could make a difference.

  A tall, stately woman, in her mid-fifties, walked up on the stage then and took the podium. She looked very professional in a beige suit with matching pumps and bag.

  “Is that Shelly’s supervisor?” asked Cindy.

  “No,” said Barbara, “it’s Maria Bolton, head of research and education.”

  Without losing another moment, Maria Bolton tapped the microphone and talked into it.

  “Testing, testing,” she said. Then she tapped the large screen that stood to her right. A photo of a woman being hit came on. It was chilling.

  “Thank you all so much for coming here to be informed about a very special topic,” Maria began. “We welcome you to our community and hope to answer any questions you may have when my talk is finished.”

  Cindy sat up straighter, alert. She liked this woman very much and was eager to hear what she had to say.

  “What is domestic violence?” Maria continued, “what is battering and abuse? How can we spot it? Very often we can’t and don’t. We look the other way, minimize, and call it by different names. Then we’re shocked when the victim turns up dead. And many do. Make no mistake about it.”

  Cindy swallowed hard. This woman wasn’t pulling any punches, Cindy appreciated that.

  “Domestic violence affects each of us, it doesn’t discriminate,” Maria continued. “One in every four women will experience domestic violence in her lifetime. Domestic violence can be emotional, physical, psychological, financial, sexual or a combination of these. One way to stop it is to realize that abuse of any kind is never acceptable! The victim is never to blame! The violence ultimately becomes a form of terrorism that destroys the victim one way or another.”

  Maria pressed a button on the screen and a slide of a mother and child crying in the shadows came up.

  “So, why does she stay? It takes an average of seven attempts before a victim actually leaves her abuser. One of the most dangerous times for a woman is when she leaves. At that time the abuser works to reestablish control. They threaten to torture pets, children or even family members. In a final act of power and control, some kill. Twenty eight per cent of abused women were attempting to end the relationship when they were killed.”

  This was important, harrowing information. These facts had to impact the work Cindy did, probably far more often than she’d realized.

  Maria flipped another slide on the screen. It was of a woman running away down a dark alley.

  “Many people believe that if the victim really wanted to leave, she would just go. They say how bad can it be, she’s staying? This attitude not only dismisses the severity of the violence, but perpetuates the cycle of abuse.”

  Maria then flashed a photo of a woman crouching in the corner, with a man glaring at her, a few feet away. Cindy was mesmerized. She couldn’t help think about Clint’s family. They’d been very emotionally abusive towards both her and Clint during the engagement. She’d had to struggle every day not to let them to break it up. It had actually been a mini miracle that the marriage had taken place at all. Ann had warned Cindy about it, too. Now Cindy wondered what effect their behavior really had upon Clint Was it possible he might have been alive if this hadn’t gone on?

  “Okay,” Maria, said then, walking closer to the audience on the stage. “Let’s look directly at the question of why women don’t leave! If he hit you on the first date chances are you would never go out with him again. Never. But, he waits until you are in love with him, until he knows you, finds your weaknesses and isolates you from family and friends. It likely starts out with something simple, like ordering your food for you at a restaurant.

  “She’ll have the pasta and salad,” he says and you think how romantic, he’s ordering for me. Before long, his behaviors become more controlling – soon you’re not allowed to answer the phone; you can’t call family or friends; or you’re at work and he calls repeatedly to check on where you are.”

  Cindy shuddered, as she began to think back to the men she’d known before Clint. Ann was right, in the past she’d attracted guys who were controlling, wanted to dictate to her. She’d liked it then, it made her feel safe and cared for, as if she weren’t alone.

  “Abused women stay in their violent relationships despite the pain and suffering because they love their partners,” Maria finally announced. She paused after she said it, and looked around.

  Cindy smiled. Love wasn’t a word heard too often these days.

  “They love the guy and struggle with how to reconcile how he’s acting with who they think he is. They can’t figure out how their once kind, gentle and loving partner now is the man who batters her. They want to believe him when he says he’s sorry, that the abuse will never happen again, that things will be better when he gets the promotion, sells the house, or his mom’s health improves.”

  Had Shelly been battered by her killer? Cindy wondered. Did she work in the Shelter because she needed refuge as well? Was this a deeply ingrained pattern in her life, and if so, how did that fit in to her relationship with Mattheus? All kinds of questions began stirring around Cindy’s mind.

  “Many abused women feel they deserve the abuse, or have done something wrong that warrants it. This is a myth the abuser perpetuates. He makes her believe that if she were better, hadn’t done that awful thing, changed in ways that pleased him, he wouldn’t have to abuse her. He creates guilt and low self-esteem in the victim. Those with low self-esteem feel they deserve what they get. This keeps them trapped in deadly relationships.”

  Cindy could not help but wonder how this applied to herself. She’d been the victim of low self-esteem in relationships for years, until she’d met Clint. The men she’d gone out with then hadn’t been good for her either. It seemed like a vicious cycle anyone could easily get trapped in. Could it be possible that Cindy was inadvertently repeating this again with Mattheus?

  Maria went on - “Verbal blows and physical assaults along with deprivation of sleep, food, water, medication, slash a woman’s self-esteem until she begins to think, if I just had dinner
on the table at 5 p.m., he wouldn’t have had to hit me. This psychological warfare destroys her identity so that she believes it’s true when he says you’re stupid and crazy. She believes it when she threatens if you ever leave, I will find and kill you - I’ll kill your family, kids and pets. If you leave, that’s abandonment, and the courts will never let you see the kids again!”

  Had Shelly been living in a trap like that? Is that why she ran away from Mattheus and lived down here all these years?

  “The biggest danger is where the victim once thought she didn’t deserve this kind of treatment, she slowly comes to believe that her abuser is right. She identifies with him. Like prisoners of war and concentration camp survivors, she take sides with her batterer to survive. This is the Stockholm Syndrome that many of you are aware of.”

  The atmosphere in the room now grew heavy and silent. Few rustled in their seats anymore. It seemed as if they were hearing about a national epidemic that was brewing under the surface of everyone’s life. Vigilance was needed. Cindy felt afraid.

  “The main key to a victim’s freedom is finding someone to believe and value her, to bring information and reality in,” said Maria emphatically, like a one woman rescue team. “When no one believes a battered woman, when her assailant isn’t arrested, when she is criticized and scrutinized, it opens the road to his tracking her down and killing her, like a piece of meat.”

  Cindy felt as if she were sitting in a war zone, and was on the first line of defense. Had all of this something to do with Shelly’s death? Cindy almost felt as if she were sitting in for Shelly now, was absorbed in the world she’d worked in, involved with the man she’d been married to. A sense of hopelessness began to come over Cindy. She’d come onto the scene when it was too late for Shelly, but there were so many others out there who it wasn’t too late for.

  “We have to revolutionize our thinking and get rid of the notion that to be a real man is to be violent and aggressive, or to be a real woman is to be submissive. We have to look and see the ways in which society condones, supports and gives permission for battering,” Maria seemed to be able to talk indefinitely.

  Cindy looked at the audience out of the corner of her eyes and suddenly felt unbearably sad. Many women sat there listening, their heads in their hands. They had gone through this themselves and were now trying to come out of it, to re-build their lives. Shelly had dedicated her life to helping them. Now, she herself turned up dead. There had to be some connection. And her death had to be shattering for the women as well.

  Maria stepped back from the edge of the stage and looked out at the audience. Cindy felt for a moment as though she were looking straight at her.

  “We at the Shelter really appreciate your coming and learning more about what we are doing here. Thank you for your support and participation. Everyone is needed. Please help us. We need you. We cannot fight this plague alone.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Despite the warm, humid weather, when Cindy arrived back at the hotel, she felt chilled to the bone. The lecture had impacted upon her in more ways than one. The sight of the women who lived there, trailing out of the auditorium after the lecture was devastating. Many of them looked forlorn and abandoned. A few tried to be positive.

  Barbara had introduced her briefly to some of the women, who seemed surprised when they found out who she was. Each had something good to say about Shelly, and how disturbed they were about her death. There was nothing she did to deserve it, they said again and again. The senseless killing reminded them of their own situation and frightened them. Who would be next? You never knew.

  All kinds of rumors floated around the Shelter about who might have killed Shelly. Everybody had a different idea. Once again, Cindy was amazed that the cops had not come and spoken to these women in depth.

  “I don’t get it,” Cindy said to Barbara as they were walking to the front door to get Cindy a cab back to the hotel. “Tell me why the cops aren’t sprawling all over the place, questioning every single woman?”

  “The cops don’t much like to come here,” Barbara said, lowering her voice. “We’re a blot on the community, a reminder that there’s a world of violence going on beneath the radar that the police can’t stop.”

  The image horrified Cindy, a sub world of pain and terror that no one wanted to face.

  “Battered women are outcasts,” Barbara continued, “no one wants to spend time with them. And, for law enforcement, it can be a waste of time. Whatever these women say can be dismissed in court by a good lawyer. They invalidate the witness, just like the women’s partners did, say their testimony can’t be trusted because they’re emotionally unstable now. These women don’t have any clout.”

  Cindy was horrified. The two of them stepped out of the building onto the curb, and despite the sun that was shining brightly through the trees, it seemed as if heavy clouds had settled over the place.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” said Barbara smiling, as Cindy got into the cab that was waiting for her.

  “You certainly will,” said Cindy, leaning out the window, waving.

  “Thanks again for everything,” said Barbara, once again. “You’re a trooper. We really need you here.”

  *

  By the time the cab pulled up at the hotel it was almost time for dinner, and to Cindy’s surprise, Mattheus was waiting for her in the lobby. He was dressed in a fresh blue shirt and slacks and looked more like himself than he had in a while.

  The minute Cindy walked in, Mattheus came over to her. “You were gone twice as long as I expected,” he said, greeting her.

  Cindy nodded. She felt solemn and sad.

  “Still up for dinner?” he asked.

  Actually, Cindy felt quite hungry and tired. “Dinner would be perfect now,” she said, “I’m hungry and sad.”

  For a moment it was like old times. Mattheus took her elbow and lead her gently to the main restaurant in a lovely garden in the back of the hotel.

  “I made a reservation for us” he said as they walked quietly through the lobby, out onto a trail that led to the restaurant.

  “Don’t I need to fresh up and change first?” Cindy asked as they walked.

  “Not at all,” said Mattheus, quietly. “You’re beautiful, just as you are.”

  Cindy was touched, but didn’t want to be. She wondered what his change of mood was due to, and decided to just let the comment go. There was no point in getting sidetracked. It about her and Mattheus, it was about Shelly’s murder. Cindy wanted to focus on the Shelter, tell him about it. She wished she’d taken notes, there were so many details she needed to remember.

  When she and Mattheus got to the restaurant they were led to a perfect table, overlooking the ocean. Mattheus seemed pleased and again, for a moment, it was as if nothing had ever happened between them, as if they were still working together beautifully going to wonderful places, talking over cases, walking arm in arm.

  The waiter came over quickly.

  “Let’s order some drinks first,” Mattheus suggested.

  “I’ll have a glass of white wine,” said Cindy. She didn’t want to drink much, needed to keep her head clear.

  Mattheus ordered a Marguerite.

  When the waiter left, they just sat quietly looking at each other. It was the first time they’d done that since Cindy had moved out of his home in Grenada. Somehow the tension between them, the anger and fear had subsided.

  “I was beginning to get worried about you,” Mattheus started. “I felt strange thinking of you alone over there at the Shelter.”

  “It was a long, disturbing lecture,” Cindy said quietly.

  Mattheus became more available. “Why?”

  “The Shelter’s a devastating place,” said Cindy. “Battering and abuse leave a terrible toll.”

  “I’m sure they do,” Mattheus said quietly.

  “Would you like to come with me tomorrow, when I go back for the tour?” asked Cindy. “I think it’s important.”

  Mattheus eyes
glazed over for a moment. “You’re going back again tomorrow? Why?”

  “Why not? Shelly worked there for three years. The people there knew her well. They have all kinds of ideas about who may have killed her. Frankly, I can’t understand how the police didn’t spend hours there talking to the residents. They belong there right now.”

  Mattheus’s jaw clenched. “The cops can’t be everywhere. They have to focus on the leads they think will pay, the ones that are hot.”

  “I guess it’s not hot to be in a Shelter for abused women,” Cindy took offense.

  “Listen, I didn’t mean it that way,” Mattheus said.

  “I want you to come back with me tomorrow,” Cindy repeated, rankled.

  “I’m going to Rancher’s Bar tomorrow,” Mattheus said. “I want to talk to Tommy, the bartender there. He’s Anthony’s friend. Anthony asked me to go, and I promised.”

  “Anthony, the main suspect?” Cindy was puzzled. Mattheus hadn’t said a word about his interview with him until now.

  “Yeah, I liked the guy,” said Mattheus, flatly. “Don’t think he did it.”

  “That’s huge,” Cindy was amazed. “What happened to make you feel that way?”

  “That guy loved Shelly, like I did –“, his voice caught. For a second it was hard to go on. “My gut tells me he didn’t do it.”

  Cindy was relieved Mattheus was actually speaking his truth. “You loved Shelly a lot?”

  “Yes, I did,” said Mattheus, looking over her shoulder at the darkening sky.

  His words went through Cindy, he’d never actually said it in that way before.

  “I loved her more than a lot,” Mattheus added, drumming his fingers on the table.

  “I’m sorry, Mattheus.”

  “Actually, I didn’t know how much I loved her until she was gone,” he added abruptly.

  “No one ever does, do they?” said Cindy.

  “Guess not,” he said. “But I never had any inkling Shelly didn’t feel the same way. Not for one second.”

  Cindy believed him. So many people thought they knew their partners completely and didn’t have the least clue. It was incredibly painful when they started to find out.