Death by Marriage (Caribbean Murder #3)






CHAPTER 7


Mattheus wasn’t due back until later that evening and Cindy was eager for him to return. She enjoyed going over plans for the day with him and filling him in on what had happened. Of course she could have called him in St. Croix, but something stopped her. This was a new chapter for both of them and it had barely started. She didn’t want to muddy the waters. She knew they needed distance between them that it would give them both room to breathe. They also needed time to get to know each other. They’d jumped into an intense situation far too quickly, and above all, Cindy dreaded being suffocated or suffocating him.

When she woke up in the morning, she showered, dressed in a lime green, linen dress and sat out on the patio of her hotel room. She’d have breakfast brought up, read the paper, and decide how to spend the day. Cindy put her legs up on a chair near the table and threw her head back, looking up at the sky. This work was certainly fascinating, if not tricky at times. She loved hunting down clues, meeting new people, following her gut instincts. So far, she’d put everything she’d gathered into a carved wooden box she’d found on the bureau of her room. Now she stuck Andrea’s card in it and the napkin with the name of the woman she was to meet next. She also wanted to return to Kendra’s and meet her daughter Nell. Like separate pieces of a broken puzzle, they would all come together when the time was right.

There was a knock on her door and breakfast was carried in on a tray. Cindy signed for it and thanked the waiter. Then she took her plate with her out onto the patio and ate slowly, enjoying the clear, salty morning air. The heat didn’t start to come into until a little later, thick, muggy, humid weather at this time of year. It was lovely to take a few moments to enjoy the early morning breezes. She didn’t have much time though. Clearly, her next move was to find the woman Andrea told her about, Heather May.

Cindy finished breakfast, picked up the phone and asked for information. It could be just as simple as that. Heather May could be listed.

She wasn’t.

Next Cindy called the police station and asked for Fred Brayton. After a few minutes he picked up the phone.

“Hi, this is Cindy Blaine.”

There was silence for a second on the other side. “Oh yeah,” he said finally. “I remember, sure. What’s going on?” He sounded busy and official.

“I’m trying to find the address of a woman I want to talk to,” Cindy said. “Can you give me a hand?”

“Who?” his interest perked up.

“Heather May,” said Cindy.

He laughed.

Cindy was taken aback. “You know her?”

“Everybody knows her. We talked to her already, sweetheart. Who gave you her name?”

“The owner of Salon B,” said Cindy, “Andrea.”

He laughed harder. “Boy you sure get around town quick. Andrea’s a character, all right. You been to the Salon already?”

Cindy didn’t like the tone in his voice. He spoke to her as if she were a child. “Not yet,” she said, offended.

“That dame’s a hoot. Where’d you meet her?” Brayton went on.

Enough was enough. Cindy wasn’t going to join in bad mouthing women. “I’d like Heather May’s address and phone number if you have it,” she said officially.

“That’s a wild goose chase,” Brayton answered. “She lives way at the edge of town, frizzy hair, always out on her porch, smoking dope. Fancies herself some kind of artist. She’s not. Had a questionable connection with Paul too, if you asked me. Very peculiar. You can’t believe a thing she says.”

“Great,” said Cindy, “I’d like to see her anyway.”

“You’re damn persistent for a woman, “Brayton said then.

Cindy shuddered and decided to have as little contact with the police as possible from now on. She didn’t need them. She’d let Mattheus handle that.

“I’ll run by her place for a little while,” said Cindy. “Never know what I can pick up.”

Brayton paused, grumbled and acquiesced. “Do it your way, what do I care? Use your time however you like. I’m not the one paying for it.” Then he gave her Heather May’s address - 42 Ravine Road. “It’s down past the junction that leads to the Pier on the left side of the island. Turn left there and keep going, until you can’t go another minute. The house is there. A ramshackle place. I don’t have her phone, don’t know if she even has one.”

Cindy hung up the phone. What was wrong with these guys? They lived in a time warp where women were treated like imbeciles. She could see clearly why women in trouble down here wanted a woman detective. At least Cindy had gotten Heather May’s address. She decided to rent a car and drive down there herself to talk to her.

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