Death by Engagement (Caribbean Murder Series, Book 12)

“A bruise?” That had to be the bruise Cindy’d heard about. Doug had said it had been there a few days before Shari died, that she must have bumped into something. “They knew about it before, though, didn’t they?”


“Sure, they knew about it,” said Edward. “But it’s one thing to know about it and another to have someone who’s investigating and cares about what it might mean.”

Cindy took a deep breath. “You’re right,” she agreed. “When can I see him?”

“This morning,” Edward spoke quickly. “He’s waiting for you to call him and make a time to come in. And when you go, also ask about the medical examiner’s final report. It’s due in any minute now. There could be some other finding, for all we know. If we don’t ask, they won’t tell. It’ll get brushed under the carpet, like everything else on this island.”

Cindy hung up, got out of bed swiftly then and left Mattheus asleep. She went to the bathroom, washed up, and looked at herself in the mirror, feeling as though she must have aged about ten years after the dinner with her family last night. To her surprise, she didn’t look much different than she had the day before, just a little bit more tired, maybe. But she couldn’t dwell upon that now. She was actually glad that Edward had called so early. It got her right on track. The coroner was waiting to hear from her, and it was possible that the bruise on Shari’s arm could amount to something, after all.

Cindy decided to leave Mattheus sleeping, have a quick breakfast alone and go to the coroner’s office without delay. She called, made an appointment and then left a note for Mattheus about where she was headed, and when she would return. Mattheus would probably appreciate the time to himself as well, Cindy thought. After their ordeal last night, a little time alone to decompress could be just what the doctor ordered.

*

The coroner’s office was located down the hall from the medical examiner, and had the same antiseptic feeling about it Cindy had experienced other times she’d made visits to coroners. And there was also the same unnatural chill in the air.

As she entered, to Cindy’s surprise, the coroner barely looked up, let alone got up to greet her. He was a medium-sized, hefty guy who sat behind his desk and kept writing, almost as if she weren’t there.

“Thanks for your time,” Cindy said as she sat down on a rickety chair opposite him.

“No choice about it,” he mumbled, as he finally looked up. “Something’s wrong with the dead girl’s father. He’s keeping after me like a rabid bulldog, insisting that I see you. I know you’re working for him, but I told him and I’ll tell you, I don’t see a reason for our meeting. Nothing’s changed since I gave him the report.”

“Edward told me you found a bruise on his daughter’s upper arm,” Cindy commented.

“Yeah, so what? He knew about it before. I already told him,” the coroner defended himself and leaned back in his chair, finally taking in a full view of Cindy.

Cindy responded evenly and professionally. “Edward hired me to find out if it’s possible that his daughter’s death could have been caused by foul play.”

“That much I know,” the coroner mumbled. “I told him and I’ll tell you again, there’s nothing here in the least that indicates foul play.”

“I’d like to see Shari’s photo, though,” Cindy continued, “take a look at the bruise for myself.”

“Why?” The coroner now began slowly rubbing his belly with his right hand.

“Because that’s what I’m hired to do,” Cindy answered abruptly.

“Listen, honey, I don’t want to bust your chops.” He finally pushed his chair back, got up and ambled over to the filing cabinets. “I’ll show you the photo and it won’t mean a thing. There’s no sign of a struggle, a fight, or any kind of violence. The young lady had a little bruise that could have been there for a very long time.”

“Can we find out just how long?” Cindy asked deftly.

The coroner yanked opened the file, pulled the photo out, and tossed it over to her.

Cindy caught it on the fly and looked at it. Shari was lying there, motionless and stiff. Her body was quiet and alabaster, and the bruise on her shoulder also looked pale.

“Could be she got that bruise when she fell down along the rocks,” the coroner commented, bored. “I’ve seen much worse than this, believe me, and they still called it a suicide. When people are depressed they do all kinds of things and Aruba seems to be the perfect place to do it.”

“Wait a minute.” Cindy stopped him in mid-sentence. “You say Shari fell down along the rocks? That’s what they definitely decided?”

“Yeah, something like that,” he mumbled.

“Then her body should show other scrapes and bruises. They would have to if that’s how she died. It’s impossible that she would be untouched, like she is in this photo.”