These past few years since Shelly’d died, he’d learned to be live on his own and like it – perhaps he’d become too independent. It had served him well though and he wasn’t exactly sure why he’d decided to mess with the life he’d been living. He did know though that he’d been running out of steam, doing the same thing, over and over, on the police force. He’d always wanted his own agency. When Mattheus met Cindy, the pieces just started coming together. He felt if he didn’t act on it right away, she’d go home and slip away from him.
Mattheus took a deep breath now as he boarded the little plane over to St. Croix. It was a good move to go there. The guy who’d been killed had spent a lot of time on St. Croix. – especially in the casinos. It was virgin territory for the investigation. Mattheus was a little surprised that the police hadn’t covered that ground more carefully, but he knew how investigations down on the islands went - slow and easy - everyone took their time. More than that, once they had a suspect they usually zeroed in on that. It was easier, more efficient. The guys on the police force down here were always characters. For a second he thought about not boarding the plane, but going back to check in on Cindy. That was nuts. They were down here as partners. She could hold her own. She’d come down alone to Grenada. Hell, she’d even solved her own husband’s murder in Barbados by herself, way before they’d met.
The plane lifted easily and took him across the beautiful waters to the neighboring island. He could see some boats out already, dotting the seas, people jumping off them, snorkeling. Life down on these islands could be like a dream -- unless you woke up suddenly and found someone lying in a pool of blood.
The plane landed in Turtle Lake, close to the casino Paul used to gamble in. It was a well-known spot which drew all kinds of visitors, tourists and regulars. The place was open around the clock, day and night blending into one.
Before he went to the casino, Mattheus spent time on the island walking around, getting something to eat, picking up the paper, letting the time go by. The people he needed to talk to at the casino wouldn’t be there until later. As he walked, he rolled the facts of the case over in his mind. So far, it didn’t look good for Kendra. But the question of how she got Paul into the alleyway bothered Mattheus. It bothered everyone. If she killed him there, it would had to have been an impulsive killing, in the heat of rage. If it was pre-meditated, she could have found a quieter, less flashy place. So far no weapon had been found either, though they’d searched her place from top to bottom. Of course she could have buried the knife.
Mattheus needed more information about her, about Paul, their life together. At first glance she seemed to be a tough, arrogant woman, not someone you’d naturally have sympathy for. The papers presented a picture of a good life and perfect marriage. These picture perfect marriages irritated him. He didn’t believe them for a second. No marriage was perfect, and when it pretended to be, trouble always lay ahead.
When the time came, Mattheus walked over to the casino and went in the front door. Then he headed for the restaurant to fill up with black coffee.
There were all kinds of people floating around inside, some bleary eyed, some sullen looking, others staring blindly at the slot machines. Mattheus began drifting around, then went to a dealer and mentioned Paul’s name.
“You know the guy?”
“Sits over there,” the guy motioned to a table off at the side of the room for poker. “He’ll probably be in, in an hour or two.”
“Not today,” said Mattheus.
The guy looked up at him.
“When did you last see him?” Mattheus continued.
The guy shrugged. “He’s here all the time. I don’t keep a record. Probably last saw him a day or two ago.”
Mattheus grimaced. The harsh lights in the casino blurred the distinction between night and day. It was easy to lose track of time.
“He was killed a week ago,” said Mattheus, waiting to see how he would respond.
The dealer’s jaw hung open. “You’re kidding me!”
“It was in all the papers.”
The dealer backed off. “Don’t get much chance to look at the papers these days. Jesus Christ.”
“You knew the guy?”
“Everybody knows him. He’s been a staple in this place for years. Who the hell killed him? And for what?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” said Mattheus.
“You a cop?”
“Detective. Specially called in on the case.”
“Jesus, sweet God,” the dealer muttered. “I’ll tell you one thing, there was absolutely no reason to take this guy out. He was a fair guy - paid his debts. Never tricked a soul.”
“You sure about that?” Mattheus looked at him quizzically.
“Of course I’m sure.”
“I need the truth,” said Mattheus.
“Then get away from me and get the hell over to that table there. It’s where he sat. The guys over there played with him. I just saw him in passing.”