“Shut off the phone and put it away,” Trage instructed. “You’re on your own now.”
Relieved to be through with the voice in her ear, Cindy’s slammed her phone shut and stuffed it in her pocket. Then she lifted her face and looked out at the field. The players were in position and the game had already started. Cindy knew little about Cricket but was fascinated to see how the crowds were mesmerized by it.
Once she settled a bit on the bench, Cindy slid over a little further and turned her attention to Ronnelle, who was standing and cheering now. Cindy stood up as well and eased over to her.
“What a great game,” Cindy shouted at her side.
Ronnelle quickly tossed a look at her, and went back to cheering with the fans. A second later, she stopped and threw Cindy a glance.
“You look familiar,” Ronnelle then shouted to Cindy above the noise.
“I met you at Beggio’s,” Cindy shouted back.
Ronnelle stopped then and really looked at her. “Oh yeah, that’s right,” she finally said. “Funny that we’re sitting together.”
“Yeah, isn’t it funny,” replied Cindy.
They stood together for a while longer, until things simmered down and then took their seats.
“Gonna be a great afternoon,” Ronnelle told Cindy, the wind blowing her hair in her face.
Cindy put her hand on Ronnell’s arm lightly. “I need to talk to you, Ronnelle” Cindy said.
Ronnelle got quieter. “What’s this about?” She shrugged Cindy’s hand off.
Cindy leaned close to her to make sure Ronnelle could hear every word she said and that the police could record the conversation. “Do you remember who I am?”
“Not really,” said Ronnelle, trying to move away, looking at Cindy strangely.
“I’m Ann’s sister,” Cindy said right in her face. The words didn’t seem to register with her, however.
“Who?” Ronnelle curled her face, puzzled.
“Can you come with me to the back of the stadium where it’s quieter, for just a few minutes,” Cindy asked.
“Of course I can’t. The game’s just started,” Ronnelle looked annoyed.
“This is really important and I need to talk to you,” Cindy demanded.
“So, talk to me here. I can hear what you’re saying. It’s only extremely noisy when something happens in the game.”
Cindy took a moment to consider forcing her to the back of the stadium, but decided against it. Ronnelle seemed innocent enough to Cindy, and they really had nothing on her except that she’d been defriended by Frank on Facebook. And that she’d lied, Cindy suddenly remembered. Ronnelle had said she had no idea who Frank was.
“Look Ronnelle,” Cindy decided to go forward from where they were sitting, “I’m the sister of the woman who was murdered at the Greenstone Hotel a short while ago.”
Ronnelle looked at her for a long moment. “I’m really sorry about that,” she said. “People get killed for all kinds of crazy reasons down here. No one should ever have to go through something like that, though.”
“Thanks,” said Cindy, feeling the sincerity of her response.
“What can I do for you?” Ronnelle was suddenly wide eyed, and Cindy felt badly.
“I’m also a private detective,” Cindy finally said.
At that Ronnelle stepped away a bit further.
“I need to talk you to about Ann’s husband Frank,” Cindy dove right into the center of the matter.
“Who?” Ronnelle looked puzzled again.
“My sister’s husband Frank,” Cindy urged quickly. “You know who he is.”
“I know lots of people down here,” Ronnelle shrugged, looking perturbed suddenly. “His name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“What do you do down here?” Cindy asked.
“I’m a consultant for a firm back in the States. I come down a lot for business, that’s all. I’m a link between my company’s division in the States and their division down here. It’s a great job. I love it down here, know lots of people.”
Suddenly a cheer went up from the crowds again. Ronnelle tried to get a quick look at what was happening on the field, but Cindy drew her attention right back to their conversation.
“You work with Toni Beggio?” Cindy asked loudly, right in her ear.
“No, not at all,” Ronnelle stared at Cindy. “I know him. Everyone knows him. I go to his parties, like everyone else. I’ve never worked with him for a second.” Ronnelle seemed apprehensive about being tied to Beggio. She obviously knew his reputation.
“What about Frank?” Cindy continued, “did he work for Beggio?”
“Frank who?” Ronnelle called out over the din.
“My sister Ann’s husband’s name was Frank,” Cindy yelled back.
“But I have no idea who he is,” Ronnelle called back again.
At that Cindy put her hand on Ronnelle’s arm again. “I think you do,” Cindy said emphatically.
“Why?” Ronnelle looked momentarily alarmed.