Death by Marriage (Caribbean Murder #3)

Just then the large French doors leading to the sitting room opened, and a tall, lanky young man walked in. He had dark hair, dark eyebrows and a sculpted face that reminded Cindy of someone, but she couldn’t pinpoint exactly who.

“This is my son Graham,” Margot said quietly.

Graham looked over at Cindy and smiled shyly.

“Cindy has come to talk to us about matters from the island,” Margot said to him. “Seems there was a murder there recently, and she’s trying to find out more.”

Graham flinched.

Cindy noticed with surprise how sensitive he was. “I’m sorry to come and disturb you,” she said.

“Who was murdered?” asked Graham, ill at ease.

“A man named Paul Robbins,” said Cindy. “A pretty well known criminal defense lawyer. Have you heard of him?”

Graham shook his head and so did Margot.

There seemed little else to be said here or done. Cindy couldn’t help wondering why in the world Heather had given her this address.

Graham turned his back to Cindy then and started walking away.

Cindy didn’t want him to leave. He seemed more available than his mother. “Do you spend time on the main island, Graham?” Cindy asked.

“Graham goes to high school on the main island now,” Margot answered for him. “All the children in this area commute there for high school. Graham is a senior now and has spent the past four years there.”

“And after high school?” Cindy tried to make conversation with him.

“That is exactly what his father and I are trying to decide now,” Margot said and stood up, as if to announce that the interview was over.

“Will his father be here later on this evening?” Cindy asked, suddenly curious to meet him.

“He’s out of town for a few weeks right now on business,” said Margot, irritated. “Why?”

Graham turned and looked back at Cindy then, over his shoulder. “He’s away on business most of the time,” Graham said, sullenly.

Margot didn’t like that. “But he provides a wonderful life for you Graham. For both of us.”

Graham turned back then and continued walking to where he’d been headed, soon leaving the room.

Margot sighed. “He can be difficult at times,” she said, “recalcitrant. Teenagers are that way often, I hear. He was perfect as a child growing up though, never said or did a thing to upset us.”

“Everything changes,” remarked Cindy, “it can’t be helped.”

Margot seemed to like that. “You can say that again,” she said with more intensity. “Listen, I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. I just don’t know anything about what you’re doing. I have no idea why Heather sent you to me. My guess is that she can be a trickster at times. Gets pleasure out of creating dramas. It’s something I sensed the first time I met her. I wouldn’t take what she says too seriously. I have no idea what my friend sees in her at all.”

Cindy had briefly thought the same thing herself. “Of course,” said Cindy, “I understand.”

That seemed to relieve Margot even more. “Come on, let me show you around,” she said then. “I don’t want your trip to be entirely worthless.”

“It wasn’t worthless,” said Cindy. “It was nice meeting you and Graham.”

Margot seemed touched by Cindy’s comment and smiled warmly. “How lovely of you to say that. Let me show you around. Perhaps something will strike you.”

Cindy got up and followed Margot through the majestic rooms.

“This painting is from the Gornigor collection,” Margot started, bringing Cindy to a huge impressionistic oil painting that hung on the far wall. “This other one, across from it, is from the Rudon gallery.”

Cindy looked at both of them. They had power, passion, majesty. Then something else caught her eye. Over on a thick, mahogany table, under the window, were some photographs framed in antique gold. Cindy went over to look at them more closely. As she got closer, she stopped and stared, unable to move from the spot.

“Who’s that?” asked Cindy when she could finally speak.

“Just my husband, Gregg, myself and Graham,” said Margot. “Why?”

“This is your husband?” asked Margot, dumbfounded.

“Yes, of course. What are you getting at?”

Cindy stared at the photograph over and over, and then looked at Margot, her heart pounding.

“When was that photograph taken?” asked Cindy, when she could finally get her voice to speak.

“What’s wrong with you?” Margot asked, nervous. “It’s a routine photo. I have lots of them. We took that one a couple of months ago.”

“Does your husband have a twin brother?” asked Cindy.

“Of course not,” said Margot irritated. “Tell me what is wrong!”

Cindy had no idea what to say. She stood there completely frozen. There was no question about it - the man in the photograph was Paul.





CHAPTER 13


“Do you mind if I step out a moment and make a call?” said Cindy, finally.

“Do whatever you want to,” said Margot, who looked distressed now as well. “But tell me what’s going on. Please.”

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