Death by Engagement

by Jaden Skye

  Mattheus looked over at her and smiled warmly then, putting his hand on hers. “It’s okay, I can live with it. I just miss you, that’s all.”

  “But I’m right here, “Cindy pouted.

  “No, you’re not, your head’s completely somewhere else. You’re with Shari and her family right now.”

  “Work the case with me and we’ll be in the same place together then,” Cindy pleaded one more time.

  “No.” Mattheus shook his head slowly. “Just do this quickly, please, and get it over with.”

  Cindy was surprised by Mattheus’s refusal to jump in, but could accept it. She’d stay focused on

  what she had to do, and from the looks of it, it would be over quickly, anyhow.

  “I’ll be all yours in no time at all,” she quipped lightly then, as the waiter came bringing them their wine. “Just a few more things to look into and it’s done.”

  *

  After lunch Mattheus left to play a round of golf and Cindy slowly took the suicide note out of the envelope he’d given her. The first thing that struck her was the beautiful, graceful handwriting the note was written in. It showed no sign of discomfort or upset at all. Cindy began reading the words and her heart beat faster.

  I am so sorry to have to leave you all this way, the note began. Please forgive me for any pain I’m

  causing, but there’s no other choice. It’s too hard to go on living this way, much too hard, way too hard.

  Then, a few spaces down, in a sprawling hand, she signed her name, Shari.

  What was so hard about living now? Cindy wondered immediately. The note was disturbing, raising more questions than it answered. Cindy read it once again and her puzzlement increased. She wondered if the police had checked the handwriting to make definitely sure it was Shari’s. That was almost too obvious a question to ask, but Cindy decided to check it out anyway. The tone of the note was too gracious and controlled, not the way Cindy would imagine someone feeling before they were about to take their life.

  As Cindy sat musing about the letter, her phone rang. To her surprise and delight it was Edward Twain, Shari’s father. Perfect timing, she thought.

  “How are you doing? What have you found so far?” His voice had an urgency to it, as if he were positive something was coming along to prove that his daughter was the victim of foul play.

  “I’ve spoken to Doug,” Cindy started to fill him in, “we had a good talk.”

  “A waste of time,” Edward said, conspiratorially. “Doug has no idea who did it. He was in the bar downstairs with me anyway when Shari was killed.”

  “We always first speak to the person who last saw the victim alive,” Cindy explained.

  “The victim?” Edward’s voice became piping thin. “That’s right, now you’ve got it. Shari was definitely a victim. I’m relieved that someone finally agrees with me.”

  “We can’t jump to conclusions yet, Edward.” Cindy wanted to calm him down.

  “Who’s jumping? It’s obvious,” he insisted. “Tell me more. What are you doing right now?”

  “I’m actually reading the suicide note, as we speak,” Cindy replied.

  “Nonsense, Shari didn’t write that note,” his words burst forth. “She didn’t talk that way. Shari could never say I’m sorry easily. The word forgive was not in her vocabulary. I never heard her say forgive me! Go find the person who uses words like those. They’re the one who forged it.”

  Cindy felt short-circuited by his remarks. Although his certainty was unnerving, some points he made hit home. If the words forgive me were not in Shari’s vocabulary why did they appear so emphatically in the note? Cindy considered asking Shari’s father about the handwriting as well then, but immediately thought better of it. He would jump on any little thing as surefire proof that his daughter was killed. Cindy didn’t want to fuel his suspicion. There was no immediate evidence to give him any ammunition to support his belief.

  “I plan to visit the crime scene, check your daughter’s social media, and get a better picture of her,” Cindy continued, wanting instead to give him a larger picture of what she was about to do.

  “Before you go to the crime scene, come talk to the family,” Edward insisted. “Shari’s mother and twin sister, Deidre, are here. Even though they’re both destroyed, they’ll still talk. It will help you understand Shari better.”

  *

  Cindy agreed that talking to the immediate family was the best plan at the moment. She left the restaurant, walked back up along the sloping path and stopped only for a moment to smell the bougainvilleas. For a second wished she were with Mattheus right now, enjoying this magical island. He was right it was their time, and they’d both waited a long while for it. Cindy understood Mattheus’s

  objection to jumping back onto a case. His ability to say no actually represented growth for him. Cindy could remember the days when she was the one who wanted more private time together and he was the one who couldn’t stop working.

  But this case was different and Cindy felt it. Perhaps it was because it came so soon after Cindy’s sister Ann had been killed. Perhaps Cindy needed to be in the midst of an investigation in order to feel more like herself. The work stabilized her somehow, made her feel as if her days and life had meaning. It was hard to go on searching for her own wedding venue when another young woman in the same position had just lost her life.

  Cindy walked into the hotel lobby then and took the elevator up to Shari’s family’s suite. As soon as Edward opened the door and let her in, Cindy saw that the room was empty.

  “Marla and Deidre are outside on the balcony,” Edward said immediately as Cindy glanced around. “They’re a bit upset that I asked you to come. I told them it was important, but who listens? No one listens. Thank God you do.”

  Cindy looked through the open balcony doors, but still didn’t see them.

  “Where are they?” she asked, feeling as though she were barging into private territory.

  “They’re huddled together in the corner,” Edward explained, irritated. “I’m not sure they really want to see you. I told them you were not the enemy. I said you were trying to help us find the enemy. But they couldn’t care less about what I say.”

  “It might be too soon for them to talk,” Cindy replied. “This is a terrible, trying time for everyone.”

  “You can say that again, and for me, especially,” said Edward.

  “Why you especially?” Cindy was surprised.

  “Because I know there’s a murderer lurking out there,” he whispered, his eyes suddenly gleaming. “And no one else knows it except you!”

  Cindy was about to tell him that she wasn’t sure of it either when a woman’s voice from outside on the balcony called in.

  “Who are you talking to, Edward?” she called. “Are you still talking to Shari?”

  “Still talking to Shari?” Cindy’s eyes opened wide.

  “I’ve been talking to my daughter,” Edward mumbled in a low tone, “is that so terrible? I feel her around me, I know she’s listening. I want her to tell me who pushed her off the cliff.”

  Cindy looked up a moment then and saw a tall woman in white slacks and a dark gray tunic stand at the door of the balcony and look in. When the woman saw Cindy standing there, she strode into the room uncomfortably. In a few moments, a lovely, blonde young woman, almost a double of Shari, followed behind. She had to be Shari’s twin sister, Deidre.

  “Marla,” Edward said to the tall woman, “this is Cindy Blaine, the detective I hired.”

  Marla came over to Cindy and looked straight into her eyes. “I’m Shari’s mother,” she said in a broken tone.

  “I’m so sorry,” Cindy replied.

  “Sorry won’t do any good.” The young blonde woman crept up next to her mother, speaking in an echo. “Nothing will do any good.”

  “This is Deidre, Shari’s twin sister,” Edward introduced her.

  “Why exactly did Edward hire you?” Marla asked Cindy, her voice becomi
ng throaty. “It’s ridiculous to think it was foul play. There’s no one down here who had anything against Shari. No one anywhere.”

  Deidre scraped her throat slightly.

  “Do you agree with that, Deidre?” Edward stepped in.

  “There are always people who secretly hold onto grudges,” Deidre answered hesitantly. “Of course Shari had a ton of friends, but who knows what they were really thinking?”

  Marla didn’t like that remark. “Your father is convinced that someone murdered your sister.” She turned to Deidre forcefully. “That’s what we’re talking about. Murder, not just having negative feelings about someone now and then. Do you understand?”

  Deidre ran her hand through her long, tangled hair, trying to straighten it out.

  “Of course I understand,” she whispered. “I understand more than you ever imagine, Mother.”

  Cindy saw the definite resemblance between Deidre and Shari, but also differences. Deidre had oval gray eyes that seemed sad and shifty. Cindy remembered Shari’s eyes as being sparkling blue and lively.

  Cindy approached Deidre gently. “Do you agree with your father, Deidre?” Cindy asked. “Nobody would know Shari’s life better than you, her very own twin sister.”

  “My father and I don’t agree on most things.” Deidre seemed dazed. “Whatever I say, he disagrees.”

  “Do you feel Shari could have committed suicide?” Cindy asked softly.

  “I have no idea,” Deidre responded, hesitantly. “I never imagined it would get this far.”

  “What would get this far?” Cindy was interested.

  “Suicide is getting this far,” Marla interrupted. “No one could ever imagine a loved one could do something like that.”

  “Shari got very sad at times,” Deidre suddenly began speaking. “She couldn’t help it. It was who she was and we were all used to it.”

  “Did you get sad, too?” Cindy asked Deidre quickly.

  “Not like Shari did,” said Deidre. “And I never really understood why she felt so bad, either. All the boys really liked her, she had all the dates, I didn’t have any. She was the one with the good grades and I had to stay up all night studying. I used to look at her and think to myself, what have you got to be so sad about, tell me!“

  “Did you ask her that?” Cindy was quick on the draw.

  “Once or twice I did ask,” said Deidre, “but she didn’t like it. She looked at me strange and wouldn’t say.”

  “She didn’t know herself,” Marla interrupted. “Shari suffered from bouts of depression all her life. It was basically a medical condition.”

  “And Deidre didn’t have it?” Cindy was somehow fascinated that twins could be so different.

  “No, Deidre never did.” Edward stepped forward then. “Even though Shari and Deidre look similar, they’re not identical twins. Depression runs in my side of the family, not on Marla’s. I believe Deidre got more of Marla’s genes. The two of them have a more similar nature.”

  Marla made a sour face. “Edward has a strange answer for everything,” she murmured.

  “Do you also suffer from depression?” Cindy asked Edward then.

  “Not me,” he answered in a forthright manner, “but my sister Clara does.”

  “My father suffers from paranoia though.” Deidre practically smiled. “He suspects everything and everyone, all the time.”

  “Shari’s condition was treated all through her life,” Marla interrupted, speaking as if she were defending her honor. “She saw a psychiatrist regularly and was on medication. There was absolutely no sign of things worsening. In fact, we were all delighted when she got engaged.”

  “Especially to Doug,” Deidre chimed in. “My mother wanted Shari to marry Doug for a very long time.”

  “Why?” asked Cindy.

  Marla didn’t appreciate the question. “Why not?” she quipped. “Take a look for yourself. He’s a fine young man, successful, from a solid, established family. Wouldn’t any mother want that for her daughter? Doug and Shari dated for years, all through college. He was a good choice, a well thought out decision. “

  Cindy noticed Deidre wince as her mother spoke. She could understand why. Marla made the relationship sound so cut and dry and calculated.

  Did Shari love Doug?” Cindy suddenly asked Deidre.

  A strange frown passed over Deidre’s face, but before she could respond, Edward burst in, answering for her.

  “Of course Shari loved Doug. Shari told me how much she loved him again and again.”

  Deidre noticeably flinched.

  “Did Shari tell you that she loved Doug, too?” Cindy asked Deidre.

  Deidre said nothing, though, just turned and walked back out toward the patio.

  “This is too much for Deidre now,” Marla interrupted, approaching Cindy. “And from my point of view there’s no reason to take this investigation one step further, not even for one moment. My husband has some idea that Shari did not die by her own hand, but, as Deidre said, Edward always thinks the worst about everything. By going along with this investigation, you’re just indulging him in a dark fantasy. Edward clearly doesn’t want to accept the truth. But sooner or later, he’ll have to, won’t he? Why prolong the agony?”

  Then, before Cindy could reply, Marla turned away to join Deidre back out on the patio.

  *

  Cindy had a few more words with Edward, promised to carry on and stay in touch, and then left the suite. As she walked down the hallway to the elevator, for a fleeting moment Cindy considered whether or not Marla might be right. Was she playing along with some paranoia the husband was suffering from? Was there really any reason to go forward with the case? Then Cindy thought of the suicide note, written in such a graceful hand, using words Shari’s father said were not part of her vocabulary. Cindy decided to take the note with her to the police station, ask them to check with a professional handwriting analyst to see if the handwriting was the same as Shari’s, and find out what else they might have to say.

  Chapter 6

  Before going to the police station Cindy called to let them know she was on the way. She also wanted to request a forensic graphologist to go over the suicide note more carefully.

  “You’re stubborn as an ox, aren’t you?” Ben replied. “Okay, come on over, I’ll be here. From where the police stand there’s nothing at all in the note that’s suspicious. But if it will put things to rest, we’ve got a good forensic graphologist who lives just a few blocks away. I’ll see if she’s free to come over.”

  “I would really appreciate that,” said Cindy, relieved to get some help with this.

  “Okay, jump in a cab now and come on in,” Ben replied. “Let’s get it all done and finished with.”

  *

  The police station was located a few miles away in a long, low stucco building. As Cindy jumped into a taxi she felt grateful that Ben had agreed to bring in the graphologist. After all, the suicide note was the main piece of evidence they had at the moment that Shari had taken her own life.

  As the taxi drove along Cindy felt sad not to have Mattheus with her. She loved working with him as a team, felt more surefooted with him at her side. Cindy thought of Mattheus out on the golf course now, as the taxi wound through beautiful streets. It wasn’t like Mattheus to back away from something and Cindy wondered how he really felt about her pursuing this alone.

  The moment she arrived at the station Cindy was pleased to be greeted by both Ben and Albert, who were waiting for her up front. After the initial greeting, the two of them led her through a cluster of long hallways, to their offices in the rear.

  “The point of having you and the graphologist in,” Ben spoke as they walked, “is to get done with the case as soon as possible. We don’t need rumors leaking out. We don’t want publicity.”

  Cindy felt badly that Ben seemed more concerned with bad publicity than with what truly happened to Shari.

  Albert seemed to pick up on how Cindy was feeling. “We get lots of s
uicides down here in Aruba,” he suddenly confided, in a soft tone. “People come down to this little piece of heaven and think they’re gonna be happy day and night. They think that landing in paradise will take all their pain away.”

  “And it doesn’t?” Cindy tried to be lighthearted.

  Albert smiled. “When things go badly even down here, some feel even more desperate than ever. You can’t believe how many end it all.”

  “There’s no reason to blow these suicides up into something bigger than they are,” Ben broke in, speaking both to Albert and Cindy. “There’s no need to drag it out, either. It’s better for the family to face the facts right away. The longer it takes to accept what really happened, the harder it is on everyone.”

  “How can you always be sure these are suicides?” asked Cindy. “How do you know some of these people haven’t been killed?”

  “Most of the murders down here are related to drugs, gambling debts, trafficking and gang on gang crime down in the neighborhoods. Guests at hotels are robbed here and there, but killed? Not often,” Albert answered, smiling at her then.

  Cindy appreciated his frank sweetness. He obviously had a good grip on what was going on down here.

  “The people who commit suicide are usually guests at the hotels,” Albert continued.

  “How about people who’ve come down for destination weddings?” Cindy was curious. “How common is that?”

  “If you’re down here in love, and something goes wrong, then anything can happen,” Albert whispered.

  “It’s enough, Albert,” Ben grunted. “Here you go on a talking jag again.”

  “Just filling the beautiful lady in,” Albert replied.

  “Where’s your partner now, anyway?” Ben turned to Cindy, rubbing his hand over his chin.

  Cindy didn’t want to tell them that Mattheus was out on the golf course alone at the moment, while she was here.

  “You guys just got engaged yourself, didn’t you?” Ben continued. “Is this the best way for you to spend your time, is it? Never saw a lovebird trying to solve a murder.”