Death by Betrayal (Caribbean Murder #10)

Trage whistled under his breath. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I had no idea.”


“I can do this on my own again,” Cindy went on.

Trage looked at her with admiration, “I respect you Cindy, I l really do,” he replied. “I had no idea about your husband being killed. I’ll do whatever works for you.”





Chapter 5


Neither Trage nor Cindy said a word in the car as they drove to the morgue. Though it was a short drive through thick underbrush, time seemed to stretch out forever. They day, which had started out sunny, quickly grew overcast as well, only adding to the gloom. It was unusual weather for this time of year.

“It’s too early for the hurricane season, isn’t it?” Cindy said to Trage, wiping the perspiration from her forehead, as the stultifying humidity rose.

“Yes, it is,” he nodded. “The official hurricane season is from June through November, but the humidity can rise quite a bit in May. Some people have difficulty with it,” and he looked over at Cindy. “Heat stroke, rashes -.”

Cindy didn’t want to hear anymore. “It’s fine, it’s nothing,” she stopped him. “At least I can feel hot and sweaty – Ann can’t feel anything anymore.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Trage said.

“I should be grateful I’m hot and sweaty,” Cindy continued. “And, if a hurricane came, at least I could watch the waves get wild and beautiful. Ann will never see that again.”

“Cindy, I’m staying beside you as you view your sister,” Trage remarked as the car turned a corner and drove up to a long, low, flat, stucco building, which housed the morgue, and parked in front of it.

“It’s not necessary,” said Cindy, turning to him. “I need time with my sister alone. You can wait outside.”

“I’m not waiting outside,” Trage seemed deeply uneasy. “I’ll wait in the office up front.”

Cindy shrugged, “Wait wherever you like, but I want to be alone with Ann.”

“It’s not the way you think it will be,” Trage remarked, anxiously. “I’ve seen families come to view bodies –it’s heartbreaking and nerve wracking.”

Cindy nodded, “Of course it is,” she whispered, trying to open the car door to get out.

Trage put his hand on hers and stopped her. “Family members don’t usually go in alone,” he continued quietly. “Relatives aren’t allowed to touch or hold the body in any way at all,” he emphasized.

“Of course not,” Cindy continued for him, “that’s in order to preserve any forensic evidence that may still be present.”

“Exactly,” said Trage.

“Let’s go,” Cindy shook his hand off. She was eager to get out and into the building.

Trage wasn’t ready yet, though. “Cindy, your sister’s being held in one of the refrigerated drawers. You’ll only be able to look through a curtained window at her face.”

Cindy’s entire body trembled.

“I don’t say this to disturb you,” Trage’s voice caught in his throat. “I want you to be prepared.”

“I am prepared,” said Cindy.

“No, you’re not, you just think you are,” Trage was insistent. “Everything’s happening too fast; you jumped into the role of a detective without having had time to take it all in.”

Cindy wondered why Trage cared so much.

“I’ve received a call from a friend of yours back home, Pastor Mallord,” Trage went on as if hearing her unspoken question.

Cindy smiled slightly. “He’s a wonderful man,” she said softly.

“Mallord’s worried about you. He told me all about you, said they don’t make women like you anymore.” Trage continued. “I promised I’d watch over you for him.”

“Thank you,” said Cindy, touched.

“Mallord told me to tell you you’re in his prayers,” Trage went on, uncomfortable.

Cindy nodded. She needed his prayers now and so did Ann. Trage was right, Cindy hadn’t had the time to absorb any of this, but what difference did that make? She had to find Ann’s killer and clear Frank right away. What good would it do anyone for Cindy to sit alone now and sob? Grieving was a luxury she couldn’t afford right now.

“Come on, let’s go,” said Cindy. “It’s enough, I get it! I want to see my sister now.”

*



Cindy and Trage got out of the car and walked into the building that housed the morgue. The ceilings were low and the walls made of stucco. In contrast to the moist heat outside it was incredibly cold in here. Cindy shivered terrifically.

As they walked to the front desk Trage said a few words to a thin lipped British woman at the desk, who nodded somberly. She wore no makeup and looked at Cindy oddly before she picked up the phone to call for an attendant.

“The attendant will take you to the waiting room where families sit before they view the body,” explained Trage.

“Ann’s not a body, she’s my sister,”” Cindy replied.