Death by Devotion (Caribbean Murder #9)

“There’s nothing to use,” Cindy objected, “I constantly stand up for you.”


Mattheus grew silent and Cindy wanted to get out of the car and walk with him along one of the trails that branched out from the road. She wanted to get something to drink and then sit in a cool place and talk on and on about what to do. But this wasn’t the time for it. She was dressed to go to Magenta’s Tavern and the feelings between them were running too high already, as it was. The feelings couldn’t be trusted either, the heat, the danger and the pressure of the moment caused all kinds of emotions to float around.

“I think we should get back on the road to the hotel, now, Mattheus,” Cindy continued calmly. “I’d like to get a cab and go to Magenta’s Tavern.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Mattheus asked as he started the car up.

“Actually, no,” said Cindy, “I think it’s better if I do this trip alone.”

*

As soon as they returned to the hotel, Cindy immediately hopped into a cab and headed

to Magenta’s Tavern. By the time she arrived it would almost be happy hour and the place should be full. Cindy was relieved to be alone in the cab as it wound its way across a small bridge to the other side of the island. The air grew cooler as they went East and she opened the car windows, and let the refreshing breeze wash over her. It was necessary to be away from both Mattheus and Sean and have time to think things over by herself. She could see why there was irritation between them, the undercurrent of competition for her. But did this competition have anything to do with her, or was it just male ego asserting itself? Were they vying for who would ended up winning and getting the prize? Cindy didn’t want to be anyone’s prize anymore. Right now she simply wanted to get the job done and then to create stable basis for her life. Once the cab passed a narrow wedge in the road and clump of trees, it picked up speed. The driver turned on the radio, music played and for the moment, Cindy felt good.

*

Magenta’s Tavern was indeed an elegant spot, much more like the places she’d been to on the other islands. It had a large gold plated door, which was open when she arrived. Inside were painted tiles on the floor, a long, swerving, silver plated bar and patrons dressed in expensive but casual silks and linens, looking suntanned, relaxed and dashing. They turned their heads when someone walked in and subtly looked them over. Cindy felt she passed the test.

Cindy glided over to the bar slowly and took a seat. A tall, rather handsome guy in a blue sports shirt and blazer who was sitting a few seats away, turned, looked at her, and smiled. Cindy smiled back.

It really didn’t matter who she started talking to, she thought, one person would lead to the next.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” he started, sliding over a seat closer to her, obviously liking what he saw.

“First time at Magenta’s,” Cindy answered lightly.

“And what brings you here?” he had a warmth about him that was appealing despite his slick manner.

Cindy really didn’t have time to banter. She was sorry to burst his bubble so quickly, but had to get right to the point.

“Actually, I’m a detective down here, investigating a case,” she replied.

Startled, he moved a bit back. “What kind of case?” he asked, disconcerted.

“Murder,” said Cindy, point blank as the bartender came over to them.

“This beautiful young lady’s a detective,” the guy announced to the bartender immediately, “can you imagine that!”

The bartender, an older guy in his late forties, scratched his head. “I can imagine all kinds of things,” he responded. “Nice of her to let you know. Some of them come in here undercover and take you for a sweet, little ride.”

That commented interested Cindy. She had no idea there were undercover cops around down here.

“Lots of problems on the island?” she asked the bartender.

“Not usually down here,” the bartender shook his head. “Over there on the other side, we got one of the worst drug rings around.”

The guy sitting next to Cindy pushed his stool away a bit further. “She’s investigating a murder,” he gave the bartender a heads’s up.

Cindy didn’t like having someone speak for her. “Have you heard about the young Caribbean girl on the other side of the island accused of killing her stepfather?” she asked.

The bartender shook his head. “Nah, don’t keep track of all the problems they got over there. Here, we cater to tourists and ex pats in giant villas. It’s a different scene.”

Cindy looked over at the guy next to her, wondering if he was an ex pat himself. Perhaps he knew Sean? “Do you live here?” she asked him.

“Part time,” the guy responded, guarded. “Not an ex pat, if that’s what you mean. I come down to play and then go back up home again. Can’t beat that for a lifestyle.”