Death by Request (Caribbean Murder #11)

Dr Padden stood up pleased. “I want this case solved as badly as you do,” he said definitively. “If there’s anything further you need to know, please do not hesitate to call. Or, why not come to the Jamaica Jazz Festival, in two days. The hospital has seats reserved for the Board of Directors, top doctors and hospital administrators. Most importantly, Konrad will be there. You’ll have time to talk to everyone. You never know when or how a new piece of information will come out.”


“That’s right, you never know,” said Mattheus, pleased with the invitation. “I’d love to come.”

“Good,” said Dr. Padden. “In my view, it’s especially important for you to talk to Konrad. He usually gives the press a few headlines and dashes away. Wouldn’t hurt for you to pin him down.”

“Is Konrad keeping something from us?” Mattheus asked directly,

“It’s certainly possible,” Dr. Padden replied non-commitally, “he always has a thousand things up his sleeve. Why should it be any different now?”





Chapter 12



While Mattheus was interviewing Dr. Padden Cindy could only think of one thing, getting in touch with Alana and speaking to her immediately. Cindy called the number she had for Alana and let the phone ring and ring. No answer. There was no way to leave a message either. Alana’s in hiding, Cindy realized. There was no choice then but to go to Alana’s home directly and see if Cindy could surprise her there. Alana lived south of the hospital, just barely commuting distance. It shouldn’t take too long to get there.

Cindy quickly got ready to leave. The taxi she took wove round and round, across circular roads, along pools of water and through old streets dotted with small homes crammed close to one another. Cindy wondered why Alana would be living in this kind of neighborhood. Todd had described her as a beautiful, charming, compelling woman. Something didn’t add up.

Cindy had the taxi stop a few blocks away from Alana’s place. She didn’t want to create a stir riding up to her home in a taxi. It would be better to walk there simply under the shade of the trees. The more Cindy walked, the more unsavory the area seemed. The streets were dark and narrow, with little sun coming through. What if Alana wasn’t home now? What if she’d left town? It made sense that Alana might skip out if she was in trouble.

Cindy found the address to the house easily. It was like all the others, small, a bit wobbly and made of old wood. Cindy walked to the front entrance, stood there a moment and rang the bell. To her delight, she quickly heard footsteps coming to the door. Then someone flung it open.

“Come in, Blair,” a throaty voice responded. Obviously, the person at home was expecting someone else.

Cindy stepped inside nevertheless. The room had low ceilings, small windows and smelled of old wine. A young woman stood there, her back turned to Cindy.

“Excuse me,” said Cindy, as a young, beautiful Jamaica woman suddenly flung herself around and stared.

“What’s going on?” the young woman burst out. She wore a thin, cotton dress and had wild hair that was uncombed. Cindy wondered if she were slightly drunk. “Who are you?” the young woman demanded, totally taken aback. “What are you doing here?”

“Alana?” asked Cindy, responding to her immediately.

“Yeah, I’m Alana, who are you?” Alana zeroed in to get a better look at Cindy.

“I’m Cindy Blaine of C and M investigations,” Cindy answered in a forthright manner. There was such a sense of disarray about this young woman that this was certainly no time for playing games.

“Investigations?” Alana’s voice rose a notch. “Who are you investigating, me?”

“No, not you,” Cindy tried to soothe her. “I’m investigating Tara’s death.”

“What’s there to investigate? She’s gone,” Alana shrugged.

“I’m trying to find out if Tara’s husband Owen was involved,” Cindy replied quickly. “He’s being held for the crime.”

“Yeah, I heard that,” Alana quieted down. “That’s a shame, isn’t it?”

“A terrible shame,” Cindy responded, “everything about the case is.”

“What’s a shame, the accident or the coma?” Alana’s eyes narrowed and she actually seemed interested in what Cindy had to say.

“I mean it’s a shame for everyone involved in the case,” Cindy answered slowly. “It has to have taken a terrible toll.”

“You can say that again,” Alana began to relax. “And Tara was a good person, too.”

That remark surprised Cindy. “Why would you say that? You never got to know her really,” Cindy replied.

Alana took exception to that. She stood up taller, pushed her hair off her face and walked around the room with a sudden grace and agility, almost looking like a beautiful, wild bird.

“People think you don’t know a person if you don’t talk to them, or do things together,” Alana was edgy. “But none of that is true. When you’re with someone every day, when you take care of them, wash their body, move them in the bed, you feel who they are, believe me. Words can just get in the way sometimes, cover up the truth. Ever notice that?”

“I have,” said Cindy, touched by Alana’s response. She could feel Alana’s love for Tara. Alana was nothing at all like Cindy had expected. Nothing about this case was. None of it fit.

“You sound like a wonderful nurse,” Cindy commented.