“What’s wrong with working?” she said. “Working is good. I like what I do.”
“So do I,” said Mattheus, “but we’re rare. There are millions who do not, who work under the thumbs of folks like this.”
Cindy turned and looked at him. She hadn’t realized he had such strong feelings about the wealthy. There was a lot she didn’t know about Mattheus, she realized. It was fascinating watching different aspects of his personality unfold.
“I hope you don’t let your feelings get in the way of the investigation,” Cindy remarked.
Mattheus didn’t like that. “I never let anything get in the way of cases I’m on. Nothing, ever. I’m a complete professional.”
“Wow,” said Cindy. “Looks like I hit a nerve.”
They drove up the driveway, parked along the side and got out of the car together. Unexpectedly, it felt as if about to rain, and the house was surrounded by a mist. Unusual for the weather on St. Bart’s.
They walked up the entrance way and before they got to the front, the door opened. A tall, very slender, elegant woman stood waiting to greet them.
“Mrs. Crane?” asked Cindy, walking to the entrance, extending her hand.
The elegant woman did not blink an eye, or extend her hand in return.
“Come in,” she said in a plain tone, her face impassive and slightly weary.
Cindy and Mattheus walked into the home. It was formal, stark and somewhat forbidding. The floors were grey marble with an angular design and the furniture polished and upholstered in the finest beige satin. It seemed strange for a vacation house on an island. Cindy felt uneasy sitting down on the sofa.
“Sit down,” Mrs. Crane said, motioning to a settee large enough to seat two. Another settee was placed opposite it.
Cindy and Mattheus sat down carefully. Everything about the place was carefully appointed, not a hair out of place. It made Cindy nervous.
“Mr. Crane will be down in a moment,” Mrs. Crane said as she sat, facing them, on the opposite settee.
“I am sorry for your loss,” Cindy started.
Mrs. Crane looked momentarily startled.
“My loss?” It didn’t seem as if she felt that Tiffany’s death was her personal loss.
At that moment, however, a tall, stately man in his early sixties, dressed in slacks and a sports jacket, walked through a wide, latticed door and came over to them. He had to be Tad’s father.
Mattheus stood up. “Mr. Crane?” he said.
The man looked at him keenly.
“How can my wife and I be of help?” he asked. He spoke as if he were attending a board meeting in the middle of a busy day.
“We’re sorry for your son’s loss,” Mattheus started.
“Thank you,” he said, non commital.
Mrs. Crane looked down at the angular patterns etched into the marble floor, her hand resting limply on the edge of the sofa.
“What can I do for you?” Mr. Crane repeated, seemingly eager to get this over with.
“I’d appreciate if you could tell us about your son and his fiancée?” Mattheus started.
Mrs. Crane cleared her throat, perturbed. “We’ve answered this question before, many times.”
“Don’t worry about this, I’ll take over,” her husband said, putting his hand on her arm.
“Tad’s a wonderful son, always has been. He’s thoughtful, smart, successful.”
“Is there anything else?”
“What do you have in mind?” Tad’s father said.
“Sometimes a detail that you’ve left out will surface and it can help us discover a new lead.”
“You live in the world of possibilities,” Mr. Crane responded, “I live in the world of reality. What kind of detail are you looking for?” He was implacable.
“Whatever seems relevant to you,” Mattheus responded calmly.
“Nothing about this seems relevant to me,” Mr. Crane quipped. “Nothing seems understandable or normal.”
“I understand this has been a terrible time for all of you,” said Mattheus.
“Beyond what anyone can imagine,” Mrs. Crane chimed in. “Shocking and deeply humiliating.”
Humiliating? Cindy thought that was an odd way to put it. “How has it been humiliating?” she asked.
“We’ve all come down for a celebration, not only us, but our closest friends,” Mrs. Crane’s eyes opened as she vented. “This was to be a delightful time. It was at first, and then it wasn’t. Some of our friends have even left the island prematurely since this awful turn of events.”
“Why did they leave?” Mattheus asked promptly.
“Well, wouldn’t you?” Mrs. Crane said. “Everyone was appalled, scandalized. They wanted to get as far away as they could. It’s not what anybody expected.”
It never is, Cindy thought and noticed that neither of Tad’s parents said one word about Tiffany, or her family.
“Were you and your husband close to Tiffany?” Cindy asked point blank.