by Jaden Skye
The waiter brought their wine on a tray made of pink seashells.
Mattheus immediately raised his glass for a toast.
“To the beginning of a wonderful business,” he said. “May we help all those we come into contact with.”
“I’ll drink to that,” said Cindy, raising the glass to her lips slowly, enjoying the coolness of the drink. Then she suddenly looked up and saw Mattheus’ eyes gazing into hers. Their glance touched and held for a moment and then they both quickly looked away.
“What do you plan to investigate in the morning?” Cindy asked, bringing them both back to focus.
Matthew seemed to appreciate it. “Thinking of running over to St. Croix,” he said. “The police reports and Kendra mentioned that Paul spent time on St. Croix, both on business and at the casinos. I thought I’d check out the casinos first. They could be a treasure trove of information, especially if he was a regular. And from the looks of the reports, the police didn’t spend much time doing that.”
“Great idea,” said Cindy.
“And you?” Mattheus asked.
“I’m going to visit the bars he hung out at. Kendra said she thought he might have had a mistress. It’s an important thing to look into next.”
“Very important,” said Mattheus, draining the glass of wine quickly. “You have the name of the bars?”
“Yes,” said Cindy.
Mattheus leaned back and then frowned for a moment.
“Something wrong?” asked Cindy.
He shook his head lightly. “No, of course not. I just don’t love the idea of you hanging at these bars here alone.”
Cindy was startled and smiled. She loved Mattheus’ protectiveness, but this was a murder case they’d come down to solve. Who said it would be easy? Who said it would be safe?
CHAPTER 5
Mattheus was relieved to be getting away from St. Thomas for a couple of days. He needed time alone. He wasn’t used to being with someone as much as he’d been with Cindy these past few days. It took some getting used to. Not that there was anything wrong with her. Far from it. She was beautiful, graceful, considerate, smart as hell, anything a guy could wish for. That made it even rougher.
These past few years since Shelly’d died, he’d learned to be live on his own and like it – perhaps he’d become too independent. It had served him well though and he wasn’t exactly sure why he’d decided to mess with the life he’d been living. He did know though that he’d been running out of steam, doing the same thing, over and over, on the police force. He’d always wanted his own agency. When Mattheus met Cindy, the pieces just started coming together. He felt if he didn’t act on it right away, she’d go home and slip away from him.
Mattheus took a deep breath now as he boarded the little plane over to St. Croix. It was a good move to go there. The guy who’d been killed had spent a lot of time on St. Croix. – especially in the casinos. It was virgin territory for the investigation. Mattheus was a little surprised that the police hadn’t covered that ground more carefully, but he knew how investigations down on the islands went - slow and easy - everyone took their time. More than that, once they had a suspect they usually zeroed in on that. It was easier, more efficient. The guys on the police force down here were always characters. For a second he thought about not boarding the plane, but going back to check in on Cindy. That was nuts. They were down here as partners. She could hold her own. She’d come down alone to Grenada. Hell, she’d even solved her own husband’s murder in Barbados by herself, way before they’d met.
The plane lifted easily and took him across the beautiful waters to the neighboring island. He could see some boats out already, dotting the seas, people jumping off them, snorkeling. Life down on these islands could be like a dream -- unless you woke up suddenly and found someone lying in a pool of blood.
The plane landed in Turtle Lake, close to the casino Paul used to gamble in. It was a well-known spot which drew all kinds of visitors, tourists and regulars. The place was open around the clock, day and night blending into one.
Before he went to the casino, Mattheus spent time on the island walking around, getting something to eat, picking up the paper, letting the time go by. The people he needed to talk to at the casino wouldn’t be there until later. As he walked, he rolled the facts of the case over in his mind. So far, it didn’t look good for Kendra. But the question of how she got Paul into the alleyway bothered Mattheus. It bothered everyone. If she killed him there, it would had to have been an impulsive killing, in the heat of rage. If it was pre-meditated, she could have found a quieter, less flashy place. So far no weapon had been found either, though they’d searched her place from top to bottom. Of course she could have buried the knife.
Mattheus needed more information about her, about Paul, their life together. At first glance she seemed to be a tough, arrogant woman, not someone you’d naturally have sympathy for. The papers presented a picture of a good life and perfect marriage. These picture perfect marriages irritated him. He didn’t believe them for a second. No marriage was perfect, and when it pretended to be, trouble always lay ahead.
When the time came, Mattheus walked over to the casino and went in the front door. Then he headed for the restaurant to fill up with black coffee.
There were all kinds of people floating around inside, some bleary eyed, some sullen looking, others staring blindly at the slot machines. Mattheus began drifting around, then went to a dealer and mentioned Paul’s name.
“You know the guy?”
“Sits over there,” the guy motioned to a table off at the side of the room for poker. “He’ll probably be in, in an hour or two.”
“Not today,” said Mattheus.
The guy looked up at him.
“When did you last see him?” Mattheus continued.
The guy shrugged. “He’s here all the time. I don’t keep a record. Probably last saw him a day or two ago.”
Mattheus grimaced. The harsh lights in the casino blurred the distinction between night and day. It was easy to lose track of time.
“He was killed a week ago,” said Mattheus, waiting to see how he would respond.
The dealer’s jaw hung open. “You’re kidding me!”
“It was in all the papers.”
The dealer backed off. “Don’t get much chance to look at the papers these days. Jesus Christ.”
“You knew the guy?”
“Everybody knows him. He’s been a staple in this place for years. Who the hell killed him? And for what?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” said Mattheus.
“You a cop?”
“Detective. Specially called in on the case.”
“Jesus, sweet God,” the dealer muttered. “I’ll tell you one thing, there was absolutely no reason to take this guy out. He was a fair guy - paid his debts. Never tricked a soul.”
“You sure about that?” Mattheus looked at him quizzically.
“Of course I’m sure.”
“I need the truth,” said Mattheus.
“Then get away from me and get the hell over to that table there. It’s where he sat. The guys over there played with him. I just saw him in passing.”
Mattheus knew he’d been harder on him than necessary. But bum leads wasted time, and pissed him off. So many people pretended they knew it all, couldn’t bring themselves to just say they had no idea what was going on.
Mattheus ambled over towards the table where the guy said Paul hung out. It was medium size, and situated in a half lit section of the place. There were about five or six others sitting there, looking at their cards. Rolls of green, red and yellow chips were piled in front of all of them. As soon as Mattheus sat down, the dealer immediately looked over at him.
“I’m a friend of Paul’s,” Mattheus remarked loudly. Everyone at the table put their cards down and looked up at him.
“What kind of friend?” the dealer asked, right away. He was a short heavy guy, who was half bald, with hangin
g jowls.
“I’m here to help him,” Mattheus said.
“Too late for that,” the dealer said gruffly.
The guy sitting next to Mattheus, poked Mattheus in the ribs softly, as if to say, shut up.
He was a tall and thin with red hair, big eyes, and bit the corner of his lip.
“The guy was killed a couple of weeks ago, week ago,” the dealer continued, as a pall fell over the table.
“Any idea who?” Mattheus jumped right in.
“If I knew that I’d be right at the police,” the dealer thumped his short hand on the hard table. “He was one of us. No one here did it.” And he looked at Mattheus with fire in his eyes.
“There was no reason for it.”
“There’s never a reason to die,” said Mattheus.
“Yeah, but there’s always a reason when it’s murder,” the dealer retorted.
“Someone had something against him,” Mattheus wouldn’t let up.
“No one I knew,” the dealer insisted. “He lived his life straight up.”
The guy next to Mattheus poked him again. Mattheus turned his attention to him.
“Hi,” said Mattheus to him, extending his hand. “Mattheus King.”
“Roomey Burke,” the guy looked over and took Mattheus hand.
“Okay, deal,” someone else at the table called out. The conversation was over. It seemed like they’d all been through this for a while now and wanted to move on.
“Mind giving me a minute or two?” Mattheus asked Roomey. “We could sit over there and talk.”
“Sure,” said Roomey, and put his cards down. “A minute or two.”
“Deal,” one of the guys at the table insisted.
Roomey and Mattheus got up, walked a few feet to a lounge with some comfortable couches and chairs, and sat down.
Roomey was a strange mixture of elegance and anxiety. Out of place here, Mattheus thought. “You knew him well?”
“Very,” said Roomey.
Mattheus looked at more carefully and wondered why. What could they have had in common?
“It was a shock to everyone,” said Roomey. “Especially me. I talked to him almost every day.”
Mattheus was surprised to hear that. This could be an important find. “You’re a lawyer, too?” Mattheus asked.
“Architect. We both live in St. Thomas and spend a couple of days here during the week. Takes the pressure off, to a degree.”
“Suppose it does,” said Mattheus.
“I knew him well. I know the family,” Roomey continued.
This guy had to be a treasure trove of information, Mattheus thought.
“Police say the wife did it,” Mattheus was curious what his reaction would be.
Roomey smiled a strange, pained smile. “That’s ridiculous,” he said definitively. “She’s innocent.”
“You sure?”
“She’s a terrific woman,” his eyes flared a bit.
“How do you know that?”
“Just take it from me.”
“I can’t just take it. I need solid information,” Mattheus mumbled, but loud enough so he could hear him.
Roomey obviously didn’t like being pressed. He pulled back a little and tapped his fingers against each other. “What are you? A detective of some kind?”
“Yes,” said Mattheus.
“Really?” Roomey’s eyes opened at that. “Thought you were a reporter or something, possibly a family member who flew in to help. None of them even came to the funeral, you know. Paul and Kendra both have family back in the states who wrote them off years ago, when they got married and settled here. He never even introduced her to his family. That’s probably why they moved away in the first place.” Roomey said bitterly. “You can’t blame them.”
No, you can’t, Mattheus thought. That was a lousy deal, no family coming down to the funeral. No family standing up for Kendra either. Lots of people who’d settled down here on the islands had some kind of story like that. Mattheus wondered if that was why Roomey was down here as well.
“Help me out with this,” Mattheus said.
“I’ve become like family to them now,” Roomey said softly. “Kendra’s beautiful, smart.” His face flushed as he spoke.
Mattheus looked at him intently. . “Why are the police pouncing on Kendra?” Mattheus asked.
“To avoid looking further,” Roomey said. “I’ve seen it happen over and over. Especially down here. It’s easy, next of kin - especially with a big insurance policy.”
“Are they focusing on her to cover something up?” Mattheus asked.
“Could be,” said Roomey. “I hadn’t really thought of that. It can be pretty corrupt down this way. Paul and Kendra had money, position, a beautiful daughter. People get weird about all that.”
“Weird enough to kill?” asked Mattheus.
“All kinds of idiots floating around, who knows what they were thinking? Could be someone got jealous? Or maybe had a vendetta with Kendra?”
Mattheus wondered what they would have a vendetta with Kendra about, but let Roomey keep talking.
“Look, I’m not the detective. You are,” Roomey said. “I stepped over here because I wanted to help out.”
“I appreciate that,” said Mattheus. “Would you give me your card so we can keep in touch?” Mattheus said. “Seems like you have lots of answers.”
Roomey had no problem with that. He gave Mattheus his card quickly. “Got plenty of questions, too,” he said.
“Before I go now,” said Mattheus, “is there anything else you can think of? Any little detail at all?”
Roomey still looked troubled. “Well, there is one thing,” his voice dropped an octave, and it was hard to hear. “There was a private poker game each week between a bunch of us fellas, high stakes. Much too high, if you know what I mean.” He smiled unevenly, his face going out of whack. “Paul loved the game. He was good too, much too good if you asked me. That guy had the brain of an eel, slipping inside of cracks and corners, able to figure anything out. That’s what he lived for. Beating the odds.”
“He lost a lot?” Mattheus was fascinated.
“Just the opposite,” Roomed smiled again. “He cleaned up almost every time.”
“Cheated?”
“Nah, I told you, he had the brain of an eel.”
“So, why the hell did you guys keep playing with him?”
Roomey licked his lips. “The thrill of the game. It was worth it. I could afford it, but another guy couldn’t. He was in debt to Paul, big time. He just couldn’t stop playing. His debt kept growing. Paul liked lording it over him, having the guy cringe around him. Made Paul feel powerful.”
This was a completely different angle. Mattheus had to find out who the guy was, check him out. His bill could have gotten too big for him. What better way to get rid of it than to take out Paul?
“Thanks for telling me this,” said Mattheus. “Can you give me the guy’s names?”
“Nah,” said Roomey. “That’s private.”
“This is a murder investigation,” Mattheus grimaced.
Roomey nodded. “I know. I can’t give you his name, but I can tell you which guy in the casino knows who the players were in the game. There weren’t so many of us. It won’t be hard to track him down.”
This was one crafty guy. Mattheus was grateful. Obviously Roomey cared about his friend. “Anything else?” Mattheus pressed on.
Roomey still looked troubled. “Well, sooner or later you’re gonna hear this. Paul and Kendra were married a lot of years. She got a little lonely at the end. It wasn’t a big deal. Natural, if you asked me. Probably inevitable.”
It was natural, Mattheus thought, to get lonely, even after years with someone at your side. Mattheus suddenly liked the guy and respected him.
“How did you know she was lonely?” Mattheus wanted a little more.
“We talked a little bit from time to time. I’d call to talk to him and she’d pick up the phone.”
; “She said she was lonely?”
Roomey got jittery. “Of course not. I just felt it. She’d hang on too long, want to talk more and more. That’s all I noticed.”
“And where were you the day Paul died?” Mattheus couldn’t help but ask.
Roomey slithered in his chair. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“It’s routine,” said Mattheus, “nothing more. How did you hear about it?”
Roomey just smiled oddly. “Everyone who knew them was asked what they were doing that afternoon, but me. I was waiting for the time someone would ask me.”
“It’s routine,” said Mattheus repeated.
“Sure, I realize that. There was a design show at the museum in town that day. My drawings and models were exhibited at it. I was there all day. So were lots of others.”
Convenient, thought Mattheus. “And Kendra wasn’t there?”
“Usually she attends every year, but this time she woke up feeling lousy. Rotten luck for her, though.” His brow curled and his eyes glossed over. You could see how much it bothered him.
“You married yourself?” asked Mattheus.
Roomey drew back then, and tightened his jaw. He didn’t like the turn of the conversation.
“I’m not the marrying kind,” he said finally, between closed lips. “Never have been. Never will.”
Mattheus looked at him, on alert.
Roomey felt it immediately. “Is that another crime?” he asked, jittery.
It was something in the tone of his voice that put Mattheus off. “Of course not,” said Mattheus.
“How about you?” Roomey turned the tables then. “You the marrying kind?”
Mattheus drew back. “Once I was,” said Mattheus. “At a different time.”
“Anyone in the picture now? Roomey asked, interested.
“No,” said Mattheus, “no one,” as the muscle under his left eye started to twitch.
CHAPTER 6
Cindy slipped into a fitted black, sleeveless dress, brushed her hair loose over her shoulders, grabbed a small, sparkly, evening bag, and went to the bar that Paul hung out at after work. It was downtown, on a wide street lined with clubs, bars and topless night spots. The front entrance of the bar was hidden by a long purple awning, covered with shining lights. There were pots of flowers outside, and you could hear the music of a live jazz band playing inside.
