by Jaden Skye
Cindy liked the idea of being outdoors and was pleased to get into the cab and go with Mattheus and drive to a beautiful hiking trail that overlooked both the water and a world class golf course.
“It’s good to get out of our familiar surroundings,” Mattheus said as they arrived. “It refreshing, will clear our minds.”
“You’re good to me, Mattheus,” Cindy said as took her hand and quietly lead her between rows of tall, gorgeous trees whose huge branches seemed to reach to heaven. Cindy felt sheltered and cared for in the shade they provided.
“Your mother called,” Mattheus said as they walked down into a valley filled with dazzling wildflowers. “She’s wants us to have dinner with her tonight.
“Oh God,” said Cindy.
“I didn’t think you’d want to,” Mattheus continued. “I told her we might have other plans.”
“She didn’t take that well, did she?” asked Cindy.
“She was quiet,” Mattheus replied, “a bit distant. Doesn’t like me much, that’s for sure.”
“My mother never liked anyone I cared for,” Cindy answered quickly. “Don’t take it personally, Mattheus, it’s an automatic reaction on her part. Before she even meets a person I’m close to, her mind’s made up.”
“That’s rough,” said Mattheus .
“How is she doing?” asked Cindy, concerned about her mother, nevertheless.
“I would say surprisingly well,” Mattheus replied. “She told me she’s waiting for the medical examiner’s report, and then plans to take your sister with her home.”
“None of it has hit her yet,” said Cindy, forlorn.
“It never hits right away,” said Mattheus. “Can take years, actually.”
Cindy nodded in agreement, wondering how much of this she, herself, had absorbed. So much of the time she felt as if it she were in a dream.
“Lots of things can take years to realize,” said Mattheus, “like how much a person means to you, how much you love them.”
Cindy looked up at him swiftly. His eyes were totally fixed upon her, filled with great devotion.
“I don’t want to impose anything on you at a time like this,” Mattheus said softly, “but I’ve realized a lot more than you’d imagine.”
“About me?” asked Cindy.
“About us,” Mattheus replied.
Cindy closed her eyes slowly. She knew what he wanted to say, felt it in every bone of her body. It was good to know he loved her so, but he was right, this was not the time to speak of it. Not while Ann wasn’t even buried.
“Soon we’ll talk about it,” Cindy replied lovingly in return. “Not quite now, not yet.”
“Of course, of course, I understand,” said Mattheus.
As they walked across the valley they came to a little hill, and a bench that stood on top of it. From the top of the hill you could look down over the water and see lots of activity in the harbor.
“What’s going on?” asked Cindy, watching the flurry below.
“It’s almost time for Newport Bermuda Race from the United States to Bermuda,” he said. “It usually takes three to six days, via the Gulf Stream.”
Cindy was surprised Mattheus knew so much about it.
“Actually, I always wanted to be here for it, myself,” Mattheus went on, watching the activity below, excitedly. “Each year, more than a hundred and fifty boats participate. It’s a great time for everyone - people bring picnics while they cheer on the racers as they cross the finish line at St. David’s Lighthouse.”
“Ann would have enjoyed that,” murmured Cindy, remembering how much Ann had loved sporting events and races of all kinds.
“When the boats get about twenty miles from shore, the crews can see Bermuda emerge from the Atlantic,” Mattheus went on. “It must be a thrilling moment.”
Suddenly, feeling a bit dizzy, Cindy leaned on the bench. It was too much to hear about races and celebrations going on. She had come to Bermuda for a reason and wanted to stick to it.
“I feel funny, Mattheus,” Cindy suddenly said in a small voice.
“Come on, let’s sit down,” said Mattheus, immediately steadying her.
Grateful, Cindy sat down. “Let’s de-brief about the case,” she said then. “I want to stay on focus. I’m not here to celebrate, I’m here for Ann.”
“I completely understand,” said Mattheus. “Let me start. I’ve been investigating the murders at the hotel and it definitely seems like all the women who were killed were involved with big hedge fund guys on the island.”
Cindy nodded, “I know.”
“You knew that?” Mattheus asked surprised.
“Evan Price mentioned it at our lunch,” Cindy replied. “He also told me that each of the victims was poisoned.
“My God,” said Mattheus, “I hadn’t heard that.”
“A grim detail, but important,” Cindy continued.
“Absolutely,” Mattheus agreed. “The police must have buried it.”
“Ann wasn’t killed that way though,” Cindy went on. “And the guys the victims were involved with weren’t a part of Price’s hedge fund, either, did you know that?”
“I did,” said Mattheus. “Price has the biggest hedge fund, but there are others here, too.”
“Seems like we got the same information at the same time,” said Cindy.
Mattheus smiled. “There’s no question but that the hotel murders are connected to another hedge fund. One of the guys in that fund even disappeared himself.”
Cindy was shocked to hear that. “It’s terrible, it’s awful,” she said suddenly, “but what has it got to do with Ann’s death?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” said Mattheus.
“We have to stay on focus, Mattheus,” Cindy cried out. “Price doesn’t think Ann’s death had anything to do with the hotel murders. He told me to look into a smaller hedge fund guy named Tony Beggio on the island. All kinds of people invest with him, want quick profit, make easy deals.”
“Meaning what?” asked Mattheus, “that maybe Frank knew Beggio?”
“We’re grabbing at straws,”said Cindy. “I’m telling you Frank wasn’t involved in big money. Price was basically just suggesting that we look more into Frank.”
“I agree with him about that a hundred per cent,” Mattheus concurred. “You don’t know what Frank was involved with. We’ve got to check.”
“I’ll go see Beggio,” Cindy relented.
“Alone again?” Mattheus ran his hand over his face nervously.
“Of course, alone,” said Cindy. “We’ll get more information and cast less suspicion that way.”
“So be it then,” said Mattheus nervously. “And I’m going to talk to Frank myself too, no holds barred!”
“That’s not going to be easy,” Cindy warned. “Frank doesn’t like either of us.”
“Liking has nothing to do with it, does it?” Mattheus grew adamant. “We’ve got to get his password and check his computer thoroughly. There’s got to be plenty of leads hidden on it that he has no idea of. He has absolutely no right to keep them from us.”
“I agree,” Cindy concurred, “but he’ll never give us his password.” Both the conversation and the growing humidity were becoming more and more oppressive. Cindy wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “It’s incredibly hot here, it’s steamy,” she said, “even with all these trees. Not a breath of air.”
“Cindy, stay on focus with me,” Mattheus insisted. “We’ve got to get Frank’s password right away.”
“The police must have it,” Cindy shrugged a large insect away, “after all they held him in custody.”
“They don’t have it,” Mattheus said. “I would have thought so too. But they never looked through Frank’s computer. I can’t imagine why not.
Cindy felt slightly alarmed.
“They said they were just about to look when you had Frank paroled,” Mattheus went on. “Then the investigation took another turn.”
“What
turn?” asked Cindy. “I haven’t heard a word.”
Mattheus ran his hands through his hair. “It was a mistake to have Frank taken out of custody. It took the focus off him, gave the cops a way out.”
“A way out of what?” Cindy stood up beside Mattheus, feeling the ground beneath her feet slipping away.
“Let’s face it,” Mattheus reached up to her slowly. “Local police aren’t going to turn over heaven and earth to solve the murder of a random tourist. It’s better for them to keep these things quiet and let the case grow cold.”
“That’s awful, that’s ugly,” Cindy muttered.
“Tourist trade is a huge business here. That’s just the way things are. It’s bad for business,” Mattheus murmured and put his arms around her. “It’s up to us to get Frank’s password, and if he refuses, we have to get your mother mind to change his mind.”
Cindy spun away quickly. “Absolutely not! Forget about getting my mother involved.”
“Why not? She’s close to Frank, has influence on him, Mattheus demanded. “Besides, she must want to know what happened to her daughter.”
“Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t,” said Cindy, shaky. “Maybe my mother just wants to keep living in her perfect dream world and finding who killed Ann would turn her life upside down.”
“I’m sure she’ll help us,” Mattheus ignored Cindy’s comment.
“Don’t be so sure about anything,” Cindy shot back. “Let’s go back now. You talk to Frank on your own, then we’ll see what comes next.”
*
They left the beautiful hiking trails, returned to the hotel and Mattheus went to find Frank and set up an interview. Cindy went to her room and sat there half frozen. She could only imagine what would happen. Mattheus would be tough and relentless. Frank would resent him like hell. Mattheus would push him to the limit, go for the kill. Outraged, Frank would blurt out what he thought about Mattheus and his relationship with Cindy. Frank would say things he could never take back. Afterwards, everything would only grow more difficult for them in the family.
Cindy decided to stop it before things got bad. It would be a while before Mattheus could find Frank and talk to him. Cindy would go to her mother immediately and convince her to have Frank give Cindy the password to his computer. That would calm everything down. Mattheus might not even have to ever grill him at all.
Cindy forced herself up off the sofa, splashed water on her face, shook her head and decided to go to her mother’s room immediately and ask for help.
Chapter 13
Cindy stood outside her mother’s suite of rooms on the sixth floor and took a deep breath. She hadn’t seen her since the memorial and suddenly felt badly about it. Their relationship had been so distant and sketchy over the years, Cindy needed time to for it to change. And, besides, solving Ann’s murder was top priority. After that, Cindy would take the next steps towards her mother. Out of respect for Ann, Cindy would try to fill in for her – be more like the daughter her mother had lost.
Cindy lifted her hand to the door tentatively and softly knocked. No answer. She leaned closer to the door and listened in to see if she could hear anything. By now it was early evening and all was quiet inside. Unwilling to be deterred, Cindy made a fist and knocked hard.
“What? What?” a thin voice answered from a distance. “Who’s there?”
It was her mother. Perhaps Cindy had awakened her? No matter, she was relieved. Mattheus was right. They had to get her mother to help.
Her mother opened the door swiftly and peered out, looking both sleepy and confused.
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” said Cindy, suddenly remembering that her mother always took late afternoon naps.
“What if you did? It’s about time you showed up. Come in,” her mother pulled the door opened fully.
Preparing herself for the worst, Cindy took a few careful steps inside.
“To what do I owe this great honor?” her mother’s voice grew stronger as she pushed her beautiful, thick, sand colored hair off her face. Her mother’s hair, which was only slightly grey by now, had always been her great pride. Mostly she wore it up off her face, carefully coiffed. It was unusual for her to have it hanging loose like this.
Cindy said nothing, just watched her mother rearrange herself, try to put the pieces back together.
“Well, say something!” her mother demanded. “Where have you been? What are you doing? Hanging around with that grimy detective?”
“You mean Mattheus,” Cindy replied, wanting to refer to him by name, to give him the respect he so dearly deserved.
“Whatever his name is, it doesn’t matter,” her mother pulled her lounging robe around her.
“It matters to me,” said Cindy.
“Is that what you came here for? To fight with me now?” Her mother threw her hands up in the air. “At a time like this?”
“No, just the opposite,” said Cindy. “I’ve come to ask for your help.”
Her mother grew silent. “My help? How?”
“With the investigation,” murmured Cindy.
“Is that all you can think of? Are you obsessed?” the idea of an investigation seemed to enrage her mother. “It means more to you to find Ann’s so called killer, than to spend time with me?”
When have we ever just spent time together, thought Cindy as she watched her mother’s lower lip tremble. How could it be different, just like that? Cindy decided not to get caught in that discussion, but to stay on careful track. She’d approach the whole matter naturally, working up to the request to get Frank’s password.
“I so badly need to know more about Ann,” Cindy started, walking further into the room.
Her mother could relate. “Of course you do, you’ve barely had time to be with her.”
Cindy looked around. There were several gift baskets filled with fruit and candy placed on the coffee table and a large bouquet of flowers on a side table near the patio. Probably from friends back home, thought Cindy.
How were things between Ann and Frank?” Cindy continued casually then, walking to the settee.
“What kind of question is that?” Her mother turned and followed Cindy to the small, ivory settee and sat down beside her.
“I’m trying to understand everything,” Cindy let herself look at her mother’s face fully for the first time. To Cindy’s surprise, it suddenly seemed older than Cindy remembered, more fragile and lost. “The more I understand, the more I can help,” Cindy continued.
Cindy’s mother turned away from her gaze, shaken by the softness in Cindy’s tone.
“What is there to understand?” she replied, sadly. “Can something like this ever be made sense of?”
“Yes,” replied Cindy, “in some ways it can. Once we put the pieces of the puzzle together it will help us restore order in our lives again.”
“And what about Ann’s life?” her mother’s strong chin protruded.
“It’s what Ann would want for us, mom,” Cindy said. “Ann always wanted a life that was ordered.”
“Mom?” Cindy’s mother looked startled. “That’s the first time you’ve called me mom for a very long time.”
Cindy never really saw her mother as a mom, she’d rarely called her that.
“What I’m trying to say,” she once again evaded her mother’s comment, “is that the more we can understand and share information, the better it will be for all of us.”
“Okay, okay,” her mother stood up suddenly, and began wrapping her hair up on her head.
“What do you want to know?”
“What was going on between Ann and Frank before this happened?” Cindy asked the question with her heart in her hands. It would have been routine to ask it to anyone else, but this was her family.
“They were fine, they were good,” her mother proclaimed. “He was a good husband, he loved her, I’m sure of that. In fact, he told Ann that, over and over.”
“Told her that, why?” Cindy was taken aback. “Didn’t she kno
w it?”
“Since Ann was little she had a tendency to be lonely,” her mother broke in. “She loved Frank and he loved her and gave her plenty of attention. But recently, she began to complain to me that wasn’t around enough. Ann was feeling unnecessary, said Frank was taking more business trips. I said, so what? He’s growing his business, that’s good, be proud of him. Buckle up and live life, honey. All men need a little life of their own, don’t they?” At that her mother shot a quick look in Cindy’s direction.
“Of course they do,” Cindy agreed, wondering exactly what her mother meant by a life of their own?
Her mother was relieved and surprised that Cindy agreed with her. “Well, I’m glad someone finally agrees with me,” she said. “Your sister had a side to her that could be pouty. Did you know that?”
Actually Cindy didn’t. She’d never thought of Ann that way.
“Ann wanted things her way,” her mother continued. “She didn’t like not having her husband around all the time.”
“How much was Frank gone?” Cindy asked, beginning to feel uncomfortable about talking this way about her sister.
“Who knows how much?” her mother didn’t like the question. “I didn’t keep tabs on him and I told Ann she shouldn’t either. Once you keep tabs on a guy it makes it worse!”
“Did Ann keep tabs on Frank?” Cindy’s heart started beating more quickly.
“Yes,” her mother crouched over gracefully, like a cat about to pounce. “More and more these days Ann was keeping tabs. It wasn’t like her.”
“I didn’t know that,” Cindy grew nervous.
“You didn’t know lots of things, did you,” her mother said. “That’s what happens when you leave your family and run around the Caribbean. If people here need you, you have no idea of it.”
Cindy’s head started to spin.
Her mother straightened up and laughed a little. “It’s okay, I was around though. Ann had me.”
“She also had Frank,” Cindy prompted, wanting to hear more of what her mother would say.
