by Jaden Skye
Frank jumped up then. “How dare you talk that way to Claudia,” he spluttered.
“It’s okay for her to talk that way to me, though?” asked Mattheus, inflamed.
“Listen to this, do you hear Mattheus, Cindy? Do you hear?” Her mother stood up, fiercely. “This is the man you’re planning to marry? This is the person you’re looking for wedding venues with?”
Cindy stood as well then. “This is the man I love and respect,” she said emphatically.
“Love is one thing and good sense another,” her mother declared. “Frank and I came down here to ask both of you to put off this wedding for a while. Give it time. Give us time to get to know him, so we can all work things through.”
“That’s out of the question,” Mattheus declared. “You didn’t come down here to work things through but to bad-mouth me to your daughter. Your mind is made up. You figure the longer you stop the wedding from happening, the more chance you’ll have to pull her away from me.”
“Cindy is my only daughter now,” Claudia replied ferociously. “I have a right to be careful of her well-being.”
“Suddenly you have a right to be careful, eh?” Mattheus spoke in a scornful tone.
“I didn’t see you for two years after Clint died,” Cindy responded, trying to fill in the gaps. “How concerned were you about my well-being then?”
“Are you going to hold that against me forever?” her mother cried out. “Has he brainwashed you already? Turned you against me? Of course there have been rough spots between us. Won’t you let me make them up to you now?”
Cindy was completely aghast and blindsided. This was the last thing she expected or wanted to deal with.
“It would make Ann happy to see you and your mother closer,” Frank chimed in. “If she were here now, this would break her heart.”
“I’ve had enough of this,” said Mattheus, reaching for Cindy. “I’m being demeaned and I’d like you to leave the restaurant with me now, Cindy.”
Cindy’s mother gasped. “Leave now?”
Frank looked over at Cindy with searching eyes. “Don’t go,” said Frank, “please don’t. We came all the way down here to talk to you both. We need you to agree to postpone this wedding.”
“But you didn’t talk to us, did you?” said Mattheus. “You jumped all over me. You came down to break up our relationship, didn’t you? Tell it like it is.”
Cindy could barely listen to the discussion anymore, had no idea how they all could ever repair things and regroup after this.
“So, are you going to leave with him?” asked Cindy’s mother. “A man who runs away with his tail between his legs?”
Cindy had never seen her mother so acerbic and vindictive. She had no idea why she disliked Mattheus so.
“You don’t know the first thing about Mattheus,” Cindy retorted.
“So, you’re choosing him over me, then?” Her mother looked irate.
“I’ll stay and have dinner with you and Frank when you treat the man I love with respect,” Cindy replied.
“But he’s not respecting me or you, is he?” her mother flung back. “It’s not respectful to ask you to marry him without knowing your family, and receiving their blessings or consent, is it? What kind of man does that? Look deeper, Cindy. Don’t be a fool.”
Cindy was completely speechless for a long moment, while Mattheus took her hand.
“Give me a minute, Mattheus.” Cindy felt frightened.
“A minute to hear me further maligned?” he asked.
“No, no,” said Cindy. “A minute to say good-bye.”
Chapter 12
How did a night that was supposed to be so beautiful turn into such a nightmare? Cindy would never know. As she and Mattheus drove in silence back to the hotel, she played the events over and over again in her mind.
“You told me about your mother, but I had to experience her firsthand for myself to realize what you’ve been through,” Mattheus broke into her thoughts.
“I had no idea this would happen, Mattheus,” Cindy protested, “none at all.”
“Of course you didn’t.” He took her hand. “You would never have let me go through something like that. This has to have hit you as hard as it’s hit me.”
“As hard?” Mattheus had to be kidding. Cindy felt as if she just lost her family forever.
“It was bad for both of us,” Mattheus acknowledged.
“I feel like I’ve just lost my family forever,” Cindy said.
“You can’t lose what you don’t have.” Mattheus shook his head. “These people are not family. Family do not treat you that way.”
“They’re worried about me.” Cindy tried to explain it.
“They’re worried about themselves, Cindy,” Mattheus interjected.
“I don’t have a good history with guys.” Cindy’s voice grew softer.
“That’s just part of the story they want you to believe.” Mattheus wasn’t buying into it.
“You have a great history with me, and you married a guy who loved you tremendously. You loved him too. It wasn’t your fault that he was killed on your honeymoon.”
Cindy began trembling. “No, I suppose not,” she murmured.
“You suppose not?” Mattheus looked startled. “Are you still carrying that guilt along, Cindy? Is that why you can’t stop working? Are you still trying to make up for what happened to Clint?”
Cindy pulled her hand away. “Cut it out, Mattheus,” she said sharply. “Stop attacking my work. I need it, I like it. If it’s a problem for you, just tell me now.”
Mattheus caught himself short. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just as flustered as hell. Never went through something like that before with the family of a woman I cared for. I kind of hoped your family would become my family, too.”
“We don’t get everything we hope for though, do we?” Cindy felt a wave of bitterness rise within.
“Cindy, let’s put this aside as best we can for now.” Mattheus’s voice became soft and consoling. “It won’t do any good to turn on each other. That’s just what they’re hoping for.”
Mattheus was right and Cindy knew it. His comment snapped her back to reality.
“You’re right,” Cindy said. “My mother and Frank came down with the lousy idea of stopping our wedding. They had no right to do that.”
“It was selfish as hell,” said Mattheus, “and we don’t want to give them a victory.”
“You’d think they’d be happy that I had someone to be with.” Cindy’s voice dropped low.
“They’re not happy about anything, right now,” Mattheus went on. “So they can’t let anyone else be happy, either.”
Once again Mattheus put things in a way that made sense. What Cindy was having a harder time with, though, was that the rift between her and her mother had deepened. It seemed to have turned into a chasm that there was no way to cross. Cindy couldn’t even see how she could invite her mother to her wedding now. If Ann were alive, none of this would have happened. Ann had always been a port in a storm who stopped oncoming waves from engulfing the family. She’d been Cindy’s stalwart protector. Even though Ann might not have fully liked Mattheus, she never would have behaved that way.
“Thinking about your sister, Ann?” Mattheus asked then, quietly.
“Are you a mind reader or something?” Cindy asked.
“No.” Mattheus smiled wanly. “I just know what you’re thinking when you’re upset. When you love someone, you can see it written all over their face.”
Cindy couldn’t help but smile and reached back for Mattheus’s hand.
“We’re going to move right along, Cindy,” Mattheus said then. “This is nothing more than a bump in the road. You can’t keep dwelling on it. Besides, remember, you’ve got a case to be solved in a few days?”
Mattheus was smart, he knew how to put things in perspective and get Cindy right back on track. As soon as she focused the case, the dinner with her mother and Frank would fall into the back
ground and take its rightful place.
“So, what are the next steps you’re going to take on the case?” Mattheus continued.
Cindy nestled closer to him. “I want to speak to Kate, Doug’s sister,” she started, “and I’m also looking forward to talking with Tad.”
“Good.” Mattheus was encouraging. “And after that?”
Cindy scanned her mind for what could be left to go over then. “I haven’t gone to the scene of the crime yet,” she commented. “We could do that together, look around.”
“Fine,” said Mattheus. “What else? Does that about do it?”
Suddenly Cindy wondered if Mattheus was simply trying to get the case finished with again, so they could move forward with their plans.
“Depending on what we find, that might do it,” Cindy remarked, unwilling to be pushed into a timetable now.
*
Cindy and Mattheus awoke early the next morning to the phone ringing.
“It’s not even nine o’clock yet.” Mattheus rolled over in bed as Cindy reached out and picked up, suddenly frightened it might be her mother or Frank with something else awful to say.
Thankfully, Shari’s father, Edward, was on the other end.
“Am I calling too early?” was the first thing he asked.
“No, it’s fine,” Cindy mumbled, both tremendously relieved and also sad that it wasn’t her family.
“Good,” said Edward. “I have news for you. The coroner finally called me back yesterday and we had a chance to talk. He agreed to let you come down, look at the photos they have and talk to him about what they found.”
“I thought they didn’t find anything to disprove the idea that Shari’s death was a suicide,” Cindy mumbled, suddenly sleepy again.
“I want you to go talk to him about it,” Edward continued. “When I pressed him he told me there was a bruise on Shari’s left arm. They even have a photo of it.”
“A bruise?” That had to be the bruise Cindy’d heard about. Doug had said it had been there a few days before Shari died, that she must have bumped into something. “They knew about it before, though, didn’t they?”
“Sure, they knew about it,” said Edward. “But it’s one thing to know about it and another to have someone who’s investigating and cares about what it might mean.”
Cindy took a deep breath. “You’re right,” she agreed. “When can I see him?”
“This morning,” Edward spoke quickly. “He’s waiting for you to call him and make a time to come in. And when you go, also ask about the medical examiner’s final report. It’s due in any minute now. There could be some other finding, for all we know. If we don’t ask, they won’t tell. It’ll get brushed under the carpet, like everything else on this island.”
Cindy hung up, got out of bed swiftly then and left Mattheus asleep. She went to the bathroom, washed up, and looked at herself in the mirror, feeling as though she must have aged about ten years after the dinner with her family last night. To her surprise, she didn’t look much different than she had the day before, just a little bit more tired, maybe. But she couldn’t dwell upon that now. She was actually glad that Edward had called so early. It got her right on track. The coroner was waiting to hear from her, and it was possible that the bruise on Shari’s arm could amount to something, after all.
Cindy decided to leave Mattheus sleeping, have a quick breakfast alone and go to the coroner’s office without delay. She called, made an appointment and then left a note for Mattheus about where she was headed, and when she would return. Mattheus would probably appreciate the time to himself as well, Cindy thought. After their ordeal last night, a little time alone to decompress could be just what the doctor ordered.
*
The coroner’s office was located down the hall from the medical examiner, and had the same antiseptic feeling about it Cindy had experienced other times she’d made visits to coroners. And there was also the same unnatural chill in the air.
As she entered, to Cindy’s surprise, the coroner barely looked up, let alone got up to greet her. He was a medium-sized, hefty guy who sat behind his desk and kept writing, almost as if she weren’t there.
“Thanks for your time,” Cindy said as she sat down on a rickety chair opposite him.
“No choice about it,” he mumbled, as he finally looked up. “Something’s wrong with the dead girl’s father. He’s keeping after me like a rabid bulldog, insisting that I see you. I know you’re working for him, but I told him and I’ll tell you, I don’t see a reason for our meeting. Nothing’s changed since I gave him the report.”
“Edward told me you found a bruise on his daughter’s upper arm,” Cindy commented.
“Yeah, so what? He knew about it before. I already told him,” the coroner defended himself and leaned back in his chair, finally taking in a full view of Cindy.
Cindy responded evenly and professionally. “Edward hired me to find out if it’s possible that his daughter’s death could have been caused by foul play.”
“That much I know,” the coroner mumbled. “I told him and I’ll tell you again, there’s nothing here in the least that indicates foul play.”
“I’d like to see Shari’s photo, though,” Cindy continued, “take a look at the bruise for myself.”
“Why?” The coroner now began slowly rubbing his belly with his right hand.
“Because that’s what I’m hired to do,” Cindy answered abruptly.
“Listen, honey, I don’t want to bust your chops.” He finally pushed his chair back, got up and ambled over to the filing cabinets. “I’ll show you the photo and it won’t mean a thing. There’s no sign of a struggle, a fight, or any kind of violence. The young lady had a little bruise that could have been there for a very long time.”
“Can we find out just how long?” Cindy asked deftly.
The coroner yanked opened the file, pulled the photo out, and tossed it over to her.
Cindy caught it on the fly and looked at it. Shari was lying there, motionless and stiff. Her body was quiet and alabaster, and the bruise on her shoulder also looked pale.
“Could be she got that bruise when she fell down along the rocks,” the coroner commented, bored. “I’ve seen much worse than this, believe me, and they still called it a suicide. When people are depressed they do all kinds of things and Aruba seems to be the perfect place to do it.”
“Wait a minute.” Cindy stopped him in mid-sentence. “You say Shari fell down along the rocks? That’s what they definitely decided?”
“Yeah, something like that,” he mumbled.
“Then her body should show other scrapes and bruises. They would have to if that’s how she died. It’s impossible that she would be untouched, like she is in this photo.”
“Nothing’s impossible,” the coroner objected, “believe me, nothing at all. There’s no way of knowing how she jumped, where she flung herself from, or what rocks were there. She was found at the bottom of the cliff with a few bones fractured in a way that was consistent with a fall.”
“No, I don’t buy it,” murmured Cindy. “She could have been thrown, someone could have tossed her. Or better yet, she could have been killed somewhere else and dumped there.”
That stopped the corner cold. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“If you’re saying she fell, I’m saying we have to know what angle she fell at and what the effects on her body would be,” Cindy demanded.
“Sweetheart”—he became more engaged now—“do you know how many people come down here, get drunk or high and jump off cliffs? If we had to figure what angle each of them fell at, we’d have no time for anything else.”
“But there was no evidence of liquor or drugs in her body, was there?” Cindy zeroed in.
“No, there was not,” he agreed, “but depression acts like a drug. It whacks your body chemistry until you don’t know what you’re doing. We talked with her psychiatrist about it, and he agreed.”
“Is the psychiatrist down here?”
Cindy suddenly wanted to talk to him badly.
“No, I spoke to him on the phone,” the corner said. “But Edward’s now paid the guy to come down here and talk to Shari’s mother. She’s not doing well and Edward’s scared.”
Cindy was relieved to think that she’d have a chance to talk to Shari’s psychiatrist herself.
“So, is there anything more I can do for you?” The coroner was obviously eager to be through.
But Cindy wanted to spend a few more minutes with Shari’s photo. She glanced at it sadly, remembering the lively, charming young woman she’d met.
“So, how do you figure this bruise got here?” Cindy asked then.
“Still with the bruise?” The coroner got impatient.
“Yes, I want to know if it was there before she died,” said Cindy.
“Well, how in the world are you going to know that?” he asked brusquely, reaching out his hand for the photo. “For all you know she had rough sex with the guy she was about to marry,” he continued, and grinned, “or someone else.”
Cindy let him take the photo back slowly, feeling as though she were relinquishing Shari to someone who couldn’t care less and who was ready to insult her without a second thought.
Disgusted, Cindy stood up to leave then. “How about the medical examiner’s latest report?” she asked, before leaving.
“Yeah, yeah,” the coroner grumbled as he tucked the photo back into its folder.
“What do you mean, yeah, yeah?” asked Cindy.
“We got a few more details,” the coroner said reluctantly, then, “nothing important.”
“What details? Tell me.” Cindy was all over it.
“Seems like the time of death was an hour or two earlier than we thought originally,” the coroner said grudgingly. “You never know with these things exactly, there’s always room for guessing. It doesn’t make a difference, though.”
“Doesn’t make a difference?” Cindy looked at him askance[cl10] . “The time of death makes a huge difference.”
At that the coroner spun around and glared at her. “Why?”
“If Shari died a couple of hours earlier, then her fiancé doesn’t have an alibi that I know of,” Cindy said, breathlessly.
