Death by Request (Caribbean Murder #11)

“The kid’s alone, she’s got no one,” said Mattheus.

“Excuse me, she told us she had a rich father she lives with, who gives her everything,” Cindy objected, not at all sure she wanted Loretta on their team. There were too many loopholes in her story and situation.

“But her mother just died,” Mattheus wouldn’t drop it.

“A mother she never knew,” Cindy reminded him.

“All the more reason why this has to be a total nightmare for her,” Mattheus persisted.

Cindy wondered if Loretta didn’t remind Mattheus of his own long lost daughter. Was he helping Loretta as a way to be close to his own daughter as well?

“Loretta’s not on our team, Mattheus,” Cindy broke into the fantasy he was developing. “She’s a young girl whose mother just died. She’s strong, she’s interesting, but we really know nothing about her. If she wants to become a detective one day, she can go about it with her father’s support. It’s not up to us to take over her life.”

“You’re right again,” said Mattheus, suddenly sorrowful. “I just wanted to help her through.”





Chapter 16



Loretta contacted Mattheus and Cindy immediately with the number of the room where Ann was recuperating. Cindy decided to go immediately and Mattheus left to continue his research on medical mistakes at the hospital. Cindy walked down the hallway looking for the room. Fortunately, it was a private room, and when Cindy arrived, Ann was alone.

Cindy walked into the room quietly, looking at Ann who was resting in bed, her eyes half closed. Ann was a sensitive looking woman, but frail now and thin. Her taut face clearly showed the enormous strain she’d just been through.

As Cindy approached the bedside she wished her own sister Ann was alive, that she could be visiting her as well.

“Hello, Ann,” said Cindy, as she took a seat beside her bed.

Ann tossed a moment, groaned softly and slowly opened her eyes. Cindy felt badly disturbing her, but there was no other choice.

“Who are you?” asked Ann, rolling her head over and looking at Cindy. “Are you from the social work office?”

“No, I’m not,” Cindy replied. “Are you expecting someone?”

“No, not at all,” Ann propped herself up a bit, seemingly glad to have a visitor. “It’s just that all kinds of people keep coming in, checking on how I’m doing and what’s happening next.”

“How are you doing?” Cindy asked, sincerely, wanting to know.

“Much better,” Ann smiled, “I can’t believe how I’m improving day by day.”

“I’m so glad,” Cindy answered warmly, as if the two of them were old friends.

“Why are you here?” Ann woke up fully then, interested in who Cindy was.

“I’m a private detective,” said Cindy more quietly. “Have you heard about what happened to the woman you shared the room with?”

Ann’s eyes opened wider. “Yes, I heard she passed away,” she said breathlessly.

“Yes,” said Cindy, looking away a moment. She felt odd talking about death with someone who had just been in a coma herself. “I’m sorry to have to bring this up.”

“No, go right ahead,” said Ann, fascinated. “I didn’t think she would die, I thought she would make it. I thought both of us would be better one day.”

“What made you think that?” asked Cindy fascinated.

“I didn’t know her, but I liked her,” said Ann. “Laying so close to someone, sharing the same room, struggling for life, you feel a bond.”

“I can understand,” said Cindy.

“Really, can you?” Ann’s eyes lit up. “No one else seems to. I try talking about it and everyone just tells me to put it out of my mind and rest.”

“That must be frustrating,” said Cindy.

“Is it ever,” Ann propped herself up on her elbows and spoke more intensely. “I don’t want to rest, I want to talk. I’ve heard a lot of things. When you’re in a coma people say everything right in front of you and think you don’t hear. They’re so wrong. Sometimes you’re there, other times not. Sometimes you can listen to every word, other times you’re drifting away.”

“Where are you drifting, tell me?” Cindy felt her heart beating hard.

Ann looked at Cindy sadly, feeling her desperation. “It’s a beautiful place,” Ann whispered softly, “there’s no danger there at all.”

Cindy closed her eyes swiftly. Was it true what Ann was saying or was she only imagining it? Cindy could find out, she could see if what Ann told her could be corroborated.





“What did you hear when you were in the coma, Ann?” Cindy continued with bated breath.

“When I heard things I’m not sure I was in the coma,” Ann responded thoughtfully. “Sometimes you’re in, sometimes you’re out.”

“What did you hear when you were more awake?” Cindy pursued it.