Death by Devotion (Caribbean Murder #9)

“What are you looking for down here?” the bartender focused in on Cindy, as the big gold door opened and more elegant, happy patrons came in.

“The young Caribbean girl who’s being held for the murder claims she was down here in Magenta’s Cavern at the time her stepfather was killed,” Cindy said.

That took the bartender back. “Really? We’re implicated in this?”

“You’re not implicated in anything,” the guy next to Cindy spoke forcefully. “It’s an alibi, but can someone confirm it?” he zeroed in on Cindy. Cindy wondered if he were a lawyer himself.

“That’s what I came down here to find out,” Cindy replied, “The young woman said people here saw her.”

“Really?” the bartender seemed uneasy at that.

“Who usually takes the afternoon shift at the bar?” Cindy continued.

“I do,” the bartender answered disconsolately. “I’m here from noon until seven each day.”

Cindy was delighted to hear that. “Then you would have had to be here when she claims she was.”

The guy next to Cindy moved closer again. “Look around here for a minute,” he said in a hushed tone, trying to be a buffer, “Is this the kind of crowd the girl would fit in?”

At a quick glance, of course, the answer was no, but Cindy remembered that Andrea had said

there was a wealthy, white guy in love with her. She turned back to the bartender then.

“Think about it carefully. Did you see a local ex pat here with a young Caribbean woman in the past couple of weeks?”

“Hell, there are so many people that come drifting in,” the bartender looked at Cindy, shifty.

“This couple had to stand out,” Cindy insisted.

The guy next to Cindy quickly shook his head, as if to tell the bartender to keep quiet.

“If we find out that you saw the couple and you keep it from us, that’s obstructing an investigation,” Cindy informed the bartender.

The bartender hedged. “Yeah, I think I remember something. Some local, young guy comes in, once in a while, with a very pretty, Caribbean girl. We don’t ask any questions, it’s none of our business. They come in and sit at the table over there. They stay a little while and then they go. He pays in cash.”

Cindy’s heart started beating fast. “Who is he?” she demanded. This information could save Andrea’s life.

“I really don’t know,” the bartender said, suddenly rapping his knuckles on the bar. “It’s not part of my job to know exactly who the customers are.”

“What do they do when they sit there?” Cindy was on fire.

“They have a drink and talk to each other,” the bartender replied carefully.

“Do they seem close?” Cindy couldn’t stop asking.

“Hell, how do I know?” the bartender shrugged. “Everyone seems close until they aren’t.”

“Anything else you noticed about them?”

“Nothing, I know nothing, I told you, and neither does anyone else,” he was getting fidgety now.

“That’s it,” the guy next to Cindy broke in. He and the bartender were obviously friends. “There’s no reason to pull him into this mess.”

“A young girl’s life could be at stake,” Cindy turned to him. “If there’s a witness that puts her here at the time of the murder, he could be saving her life. What time was she here?”

“I really don’t know,” the bartender had enough. “I have no way of knowing that. I just remember seeing them. I don’t know when they were here or for how long.”

Cindy’s excitement faded somewhat. At least part of Andrea’s alibi was true. She had been seen here with someone. Of course it wouldn’t amount to much unless they could say exactly when.

“Did anyone else see them?” asked Cindy.

“Now you’re going too far,” the bartender backed off. “I have no idea who was here and saw them. And I have no idea who the guy is.”

“If by some chance he should come in again and you see him, would you please get his contact information for me,” Cindy asked.

The bartender threw his head back and closed his eyes a second, “If by chance he comes in, I will,” he echoed as Cindy realized that there was absolutely no way he meant what he said. “Anyway,” he went on, “you want a drink?”

Cindy really didn’t. She stood up and the guy beside her had stood up as well, irritated. This certainly wasn’t the kind of thing he came to the bar for.

Cindy turned to him anyway, “You’re sure you didn’t see them, either?” she asked casually, just in case for some reason he might have.

“Not a chance,” he responded, patted Cindy on the shoulder, lowered his head and said, “it’s not a good idea to keep pursing this. There are people around here who make sure this part of the island is kept trouble free. The tourist trade and the value of the homes here depend on it. They don’t like detectives snooping around. They won’t take well to it.”