Death by Marriage (Caribbean Murder #3)

Heather had told her the person would tell her all she needed to know. Cindy didn’t take that so seriously. At times it was hard to take anything too seriously here, with the warm breezes, beautiful ocean and endless flowers that greeted you wherever you went. The case seemed elusive and confusing still, with nothing that she could bite into. But Kendra’s life could be in danger if Cindy didn’t find something significant soon. Cindy didn’t sense that Kendra was a killer, but she’d been wrong before and was holding all options open now.

As the car approached the destination, the roads and streets smoothed out. Cindy drove through small, winding lanes until she came to the back entrance of the community and was able to drive in. She then drove slowly along the manicured pathways. This was definitely a world set apart, one that seemed to enjoy keeping others out, being secluded, and making sure everything stayed the way it had always been. The beautiful, well-appointed homes were nestled between old trees, surrounded by beautiful lawns and gardens. They seemed as if nothing had touched them ever, or ever could.

After a few more blocks, finally, Cindy came to the address she’d been given. It was a pale beige stucco house, set off the street, behind huge palm trees. Cindy parked outside, got out, and looked around. For as far as the eye could see, there was nobody.

Cindy walked up to the front entrance. There was a huge, copper knocker on the front door, with a carved woman on it. For a second, Cindy pulled her hand back. Then she laughed, lifted her hand to the knocker and knocked loudly. The sound rang out through the quiet block.

In a few moments, a beautiful, exquisitely groomed woman in her late forties, with huge green eyes, soft brown hair and perfect skin, opened the door. She looked at Cindy, curiously.

“Yes?” she said, standing at the door.

“I’m Cindy Blaine,” said Cindy.

The woman made no response, just kept gazing.

“Heather May gave me your address,” Cindy went on.

The woman’s eyebrows rose slightly.

“I apologize for disturbing you, but may I take a few minutes of your time?” asked Cindy.

“What is this about?” asked the woman.

“I’m investigating a case on the island,” Cindy said.

The woman seemed completely uninterested. “I don’t know anything about cases on the island,” she said. “We live quietly here and don’t pay attention to the messes all around.”

“I can see that.”

Cindy smiled, but the woman didn’t respond.

“I’m investigating a murder that took place a short while ago,” Cindy spoke with greater urgency.

The woman shivered a moment. “Awful,” she said.

“Yes, awful,” said Cindy. “And I need to talk to you for just a few minutes.”

“Why me?” the woman seemed truly disconcerted. “I have nothing to tell you about any murder.”

“But you may know something that will lead me closer,” said Cindy definitively. “Heather May said you might be able to.”

The woman looked perturbed and shook her head. “I barely know Heather May.”

“Just for a few minutes.”

Reluctantly, she opened the door a little wider and let Cindy in.

The home was gorgeous, immaculate, perfectly decorated. The woman showed Cindy into the main sitting room and both of them sat opposite one another in high back wooden chairs.

“I let you in because Heather May sent you,” the woman said quietly. “Even though I barely know her, she’s rather close to a dear friend of mine. My name is Margot Kowan.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Cindy, looking around. “Your place is truly beautiful.”

“Thank you,” said Margot. “It’s a great relief to be here, apart from the turbulence of the main island.”

Cindy could see how she would feel that way. “You live here with your family?” Cindy asked.

“With my husband and son,” said Margot, speaking matter of factly, with little emotion.

“Your husband works down here on the island?”

“What difference does that make?”

Talking to her was like talking to an ice glacier. Cindy needed some way to make contact and felt as if she couldn’t get through. She decided to speak to her straight.

“Heather told me that when I came to this address, I’d know all I needed to know about the murder that took place on the mainland,” Cindy said.

Margot’s eyes opened wide. “I can’t imagine why she’d say a thing like that. As I told you, we hardly bother down here with what happens on the mainland. This is our own little world. We like to keep it that way.” She spoke quickly and breathlessly.

A long chill went up Cindy’s spine. Margot lived in an encapsulated bubble and didn’t want anything bursting it. She had no interest at all in being drawn into something that was painful or sordid. Cindy decided to try another tack.

“How do you know Heather May?” she asked.

“As I mentioned, she’s a friend of a friend. The friend thinks the world of her. I’ve met Heather once or twice. Seemed like a wild card to me. The hair, I mean,” and she smiled slowly. Everything about Margot and her home were in perfect order, not a thread out of place. Cindy could see why Heather would make her uneasy. Cindy felt she couldn’t find an entrance way into any of Margot’s true feelings at all.

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