Death by Engagement (Caribbean Murder Series, Book 12)

“Thank God,” Mattheus murmured. “What are you doing now?”


“I’m curled up on the sofa thinking everything over,” said Cindy.

“I’ll back in a few minutes,” Mattheus replied. “I’m heading right home to you.”

“Take all the time you need,” Cindy whispered. “I’m here, I love you. I’m not going anywhere else.”





Chapter 8


Despite Mattheus’s protestations, Cindy insisted on going down to Amaneuten Cove alone the next morning. Even though he offered to accompany her, she felt strongly she should go herself.

“I promise I’ll be fine,” she said, “and if I’m not, or anything happens, I’ll call you first thing.”

“You’re being stubborn,” Mattheus insisted. “Really, believe me, I want to come.”

Cindy believed him, but also didn’t want him feeling the pressure to jump in. “It will be a routine visit, I promise,” said Cindy. “I just want to hear the word on the street about the killing of those two other women, and what people think happened to the suspect. I doubt there’s a connection between that and Shari’s death, though.”

“But you never know,” Mattheus conceded.

“It’s very unlikely,” Cindy mused.

“Whether I go down to Amaneuten Cove with you or not, I’m jumping in anyway,” Mattheus insisted. “While you’re down there, I’ll check on what else I can find out about Doug and also about those two women.”

“Mattheus, it’s not necessary,” said Cindy, going over and put her arms around him. She didn’t want him to do this to make up for last night. That wasn’t a reason to start investigating.

“Of course it’s necessary.” Mattheus grinned. “Once I’m working this with you, things will go twice as fast and we’ll be back on track that much sooner looking at wedding venues. Then our main concern will be what kind of champagne we should offer our guests and whether we should place the watermelon slices near the wedding cake.”

Cindy couldn’t help but smile at Mattheus’s boyish charm.

“Once we’re worrying about wedding venues, we won’t be dealing with hidden snakes and iguanas that creep all over this gorgeous island.” Mattheus was on a roll. “By the way did you happen to notice that iguanas are everywhere down here, especially on rooftops? Their colors change, too, depending on where you happen to find them.”

Mattheus was playing with her and Cindy enjoyed it.

“Okay, check Doug further if you want to,” Cindy conceded, “but he seems perfectly fine to me. And besides, he has a flawless alibi.”

“Did I ever tell you that I absolutely hate flawless alibis?” Mattheus quipped as he hugged her. “Nothing is ever flawless, except for you, naturally. Go take your trip and come back fast, no more than a couple of hours. I’ll be waiting here to fill you in on what I find out.”

*

Amaneuten Cove was at the edge of a small neighborhood couched behind a narrow road which was dug out deep behind a cluster of divi-divi [cl5] trees. Cindy knew she was getting close as she followed the path of the divi-divi [cl6] trees, which were a natural compass in Aruba, always pointing in a southwesterly direction. Cindy had been fascinated by these trees even before she’d arrived on the island. She’d heard that attempts to plant divi-divis [cl7] in other parts of the world had proved futile, but they prospered here. These trees created a strange kind of sloping shade that made Amaneuten Cove a perfect spot for drug dealers and other criminals to hide in.

As she walked onto Amaneuten Cove, Cindy saw a group of rickety shops, little houses and one or two places to eat. She stopped at the first shop she passed, a makeshift grocery, opened the shaky door, went inside. The store was empty at the moment. Cindy looked around and then leaned against the counter, waiting for someone to come out from the back.

In a few moments a huge, fat woman in a red cotton dress and ripped apron came out of the swinging doors in the back, got behind the counter, and greeted Cindy.

“Yeah?” she asked, her eyes half closed, as if they had seen everything and it was more than enough.

“I’m down here investigating the Townsend murders.” Cindy got right to the point, hoping to jar the woman into giving her some information.

It worked. The woman’s eyes opened wide. “Why are you down here now for?” she asked nervously. “Those killings happened months ago.”

“Why not now?” Cindy responded, half sprawling herself along the counter.

“Who the hell are you anyway, honey?” the fat woman drawled.

“Cindy Blaine, private detective,” Cindy replied without stopping a second. “Don’t know if you heard, but there’s been a third killing, up at a fancy hotel.”

“Dear Lord, no!” The news didn’t sit well. “I hadn’t heard that.” The woman’s big chin shook like jelly. “Thought it was all finished and done with.”