Death by Betrayal (Caribbean Murder #10)

“My sister’s husband’s not involved in big business,” said Cindy.

Alain shook his head. “Look I don’t have any idea how this happened, but I can tell you one thing. You’re not gonna find the killer, honey. Most murders down here never get solved. These guys have protection around them like iron rings, including from the government. Get it? What happens in Bermuda stays in Bermuda. You take one step too far, and before you know it, you’ll end up like your sister, dead.”

Cindy shuddered.

“It’s dangerous for a beautiful woman like you to go digging around alone,” Alain ran his hands over his face. “Let the police do it. They know what they’re dealing with.”

“But will they do it?” Cindy asked.

“Probably not,” Alain grinned. “They’ll do a little and let it go at that. But if you start digging too much, you’ll make people nervous. Word will get out. Sooner or later you’ll ruffle some feathers. People here have got a lot here to hide.”

“Who will I make nervous?” Cindy was insistent.

“Hell if I know the people involved,” said Alain. “I do know that this is a high stakes game, though. When you work in these hotels you see these heartless beauties coming and going like they owned the world.”

“Maybe they do,” said Cindy.

“They can own whatever they want,” said Alain. “They don’t own my house though, or my life. They got your sister and I’m sorry about it. But be smart, don’t let them get you!”

Just then the doorbell rang loudly. Both of them jumped.

Alain got up, ran towards the front and flung the door open.

“Deidre, thank God,” Cindy heard him yelling. “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for you.”

*

Cindy was tremendously glad she had the cab waiting. She got into it quickly and then fell silent during the ride home.

“Find what you were looking for?” the driver asked, to break the tension in the air.

“Not yet,” whispered Cindy, “but I will.”

“What’s that? I didn’t hear you,” the driver replied, as, suddenly, a dark green car quickly drove too close beside them, almost swiping them off the road.

The cab driver swerved to get away, jostling Cindy into the corner.

“Damn idiots,” he yelled out of the window.

“Who are they? What happened?” Cindy was shaken.

“Stupid drunk drivers in this part of town,” he answered. “Everyone here is drunk or on some kind of drug!”

Cindy felt nauseous. Was Alain right? Was it truly dangerous here for her alone? What good would it do to get wiped out, like Ann had? Who knew who was really in that green car? The police knew where she was, no one else did. Cindy suddenly wondered if Trage had sent the car after her?

As they drove out of the neighborhood and closer to the hotel, Cindy felt her head swimming. Should she check in with Trage and tell him what happened? Right now she wasn’t really sure. She knew she needed to de-brief with someone, though. If Mattheus were here, they’d go over every detail and she’d soon be on solid ground. So would the investigation. She couldn’t do this with Trage now – she suddenly wasn’t sure about him. Cindy knew her mind could be playing tricks on her, but she felt danger on all sides of her. One thing she was sure about though, she couldn’t continue alone.

As the cab drove up the swirling driveway to her hotel, Cindy knew she had to call Mattheus. She had to do it for Ann’s sake at least. Alain was right, this was too much for her to take on alone.

*

Cindy got out of the cab, slipped into the lobby and up to her room without anyone noticing. Once inside alone, she pulled out her phone, stepped out onto the patio and looked up at the vast, perfect, blue sky. Then she dialed. As the gentle, puffy white clouds drifted by, Cindy waited for Mattheus.

“Cindy?” he said, the moment he picked up the phone.

Cindy was stunned to actually hear his voice. “Mattheus,” she responded.

“My God, I tried to call you a few times,” he said quickly. “You never picked up.”

“Mattheus,” Cindy echoed again.

“What’s going on? You sound funny,” his voice deepened.

Cindy could barely get the words out. “Ann’s been killed in Bermuda,” she finally whispered.

“What?” Mattheus’s sounded alarmed.

“Murdered in her hotel room,” Cindy’s voice got louder.

“How did it happen? Where are you now?” Mattheus’s sounded uncomprehending.

“I’m here in Bermuda,” Cindy felt as if she were babbling.

“You went down alone? You didn’t call me?” Mattheus could barely believe it. “Why?”

“I need you down here now, Mattheus,” Cindy finally uttered.

“My God,” he sounded overpowered. “Of course you do, of course.”

Cindy sighed quietly.

“Cindy, are you okay? How are you doing?” Mattheus sounded horrified.

“I’m hanging in,” Cindy wanted to cry.

“It’s okay, listen, I’ll be down immediately,” he exclaimed, “on the next flight.”