Death by Request (Caribbean Murder #11)

“I’m not suggesting anything of the kind,” Beatrice was on the alert. “I’m telling you that your questions are all open ended and have no answers, just suppositions.”


“But Tara Danden was murdered,” Cindy reminded her forcefully. “Someone actively took her life.”

“You can view it that way if you choose to,” Beatrice shuddered slightly.

“It has nothing to do with whether or not I chose to,” Cindy replied. “There are facts in the case.”

“You can view euthanasia as murder, or as compassionate action,” Beatrice replied forcefully.

“That’s not up to me, it’s up to the courts,” Cindy stated. “And right now a man who well might be innocent is being held for a crime.”

“I’m aware of that,” said Beatrice, suddenly tired.

“Do you think Owen killed his wife, Beatrice?” Cindy asked bluntly.

“I have absolutely no idea about that,” Beatrice responded tartly, unwilling to get pulled in. “If you ask other nurses or aids on the floor they’ll each tell you something different. It’s all gossip, rumors, speculation. No one knows, and that’s a fact.”

“I really need to speak to Alana, the nurse in charge of Tara’s care,” Cindy changed the topic abruptly. She had to take the next step.

Beatrice placed her hands flat out on the desk. “Alana happens to be home sick today, believe it or not.”

“What’s wrong with her?” asked Cindy disconcerted.

“I have no idea. This is the first time Alana’s ever called in sick,” Beatrice continued. “Frankly, I’m as surprised as you. I think someone told her you were coming.”

Cindy was taken aback. “Who? Are you suggesting that Alana doesn’t want to talk to me?”

“I didn’t say that,” Beatrice repeated. “Just that she’s suddenly ill, though she looked perfectly fine to me yesterday. I believe you and Mattheus went to some hospital party last night, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” said Cindy, wondering what that had to do with anything.

“Well, I’m sure Alana heard about it,” Beatrice said flatly. “If you ask me, it seems like Alana figured it would be convenient to be sick now for a few days while you are in town.” Then Beatrice gave Cindy an odd glance.

Cindy wondered what she was actually trying to tell her. “I’d like Alana’s home address and phone,” said Cindy. “I’ll contact her myself immediately.”

“Absolutely not,” Beatrice replied instantly. “I’m not at liberty to give that to you.”

“But this is a murder investigation,” Cindy insisted.

“Alana’s home is off limits,” said Beatrice. “You’ll have to wait until she returns to work.”

“You’re protecting her?” Cindy felt dazed.

“I’m doing my job,” said Beatrice.

“Getting in the way of a murder investigation,” Cindy suggested.

“Not at all. I’m in my legal rights here,” Beatrice snapped.

But Cindy wouldn’t let it go at that. She needed more from Beatrice.

“In your professional opinion would you say that Alana was a good nurse?” Cindy probed.

“Good or not is beside the point,” Beatrice dodged the question. “Alana has a right to her privacy. And yes, she is a good nurse. She did a fine job with Tara, no one would dispute that.”

Then why won’t you let me talk to her, Cindy wondered.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for today,” Beatrice pulled her chair back suddenly, “unless there’s something else you need to know.”

Cindy was far from ready to end the interview though. “What about Tara’s family?” she pushed forward. “Which ones were in Tara’s room the most?”

Beatrice looked at Cindy coolly. “As I was not the nurse on the case, that’s not something I can tell you,” she replied. “Alana will help you with that, or some of the nurse’s aides who worked with her. Will that be it? I have a lot to take care of.”

Of course Beatrice was busy, had a lot of responsibility, but Cindy still wondered why she was so eager to end the interview.

“For now,” said Cindy.

Beatrice looked surprised, as she stood up. “There’s truly nothing further I have to tell you.”

Cindy stood up as well, “Things come up when you least expect them to,” she replied. “I’ll stay in touch, if you don’t mind.”

Beatrice neither consented nor refused, just walked to the door, opened it and stepped out as if a great load had been taken off her chest.

*

After speaking with Beatrice Cindy was more determined than ever to get Alana’s contact information. This was no time for playing games or going by official rules. As time went by and the case was unsolved, Owen became more and more entrenched as the suspect.

Cindy went back to the main desk to see who else she could talk to. The receptionist who’d been there before was gone and a young, spry, Jamaica man sat at the desk, taking calls and handling paperwork.

“Hi,” Cindy came up to him brightly, “I’m Cindy Blaine, here to investigate Tara Danden’s case.”