Death by Request (Caribbean Murder #11)

“Facts and fiction mixed together,” Mattheus murmured.

“Maybe there’s no fiction here, just facts,” said Cindy.

“And even if Konrad did come to see Alana in Tara’s room the night she died, what’s the connection with Tara’s dying?” Mattheus paused, considering what he was hearing.

“Who knows?” asked Cindy. “Maybe Alana was doing a favor for him, or vice versa? It’s worth checking further.”

“It’s more than worth it, we have to do it,” said Mattheus, “I’ll confront him with everything at the festival tonight.”

*

The Jazz festival in Jamaica, famous all over the Caribbean, was in full swing when Mattheus arrived. Suntanned and dressed in a white linen summer suit and slacks, he was glad to go alone. Right now he needed the freedom of being able to roam around unencumbered, a magnet for unexpected clues. Of course Cindy was never the kind of hang onto him, but he could be tougher without her at his side.

Mattheus looked at the people streaming in from everywhere to enjoy the fantastic sounds of top jazz bands playing their hearts out under the stars on the rolling hills. With drinks plentifully available at the booths on the side, the mood was festive and rambunctious. Thanks to the police, the Board of Directors of the hospital had reserved a seat for Mattheus among them up front. Mattheus approached, wondering if he’d have to sit through the entire concert before getting a chance to talk.

The moment Mattheus stopped at his ticket’s row, a tall, nervous man stood up and greeted him.

“How do you do,” the man said, “I’m Phil Adams, Chairman of the Board of Directors for the Ranges Hospital. I suppose you’re Mattheus?”

Mattheus was impressed. He was seated next to the biggest fish without even trying.

“Yes, I’m Mattheus,” he said over the loud music. “You’re expecting me?”

“Please sit down,” Phil said quickly, indicating an empty seat next to his own.

Mattheus wondered if this was a coup or if he was being sidetracked.

“Great seat, great company,” Mattheus started, “great music.”

Phil Adams was not in a jovial mood. “The police arranged for this meeting,” he said under his breath. “It’s not exactly something I look forward to.”

“Are we supposed to talk here?” asked Mattheus going along with his tone.

Phil turned to Mattheus abruptly then. “What do you want with us? Do you know how badly Jamaica needs a hospital like the one we have? Don’t we have enough difficulty as it is?”

“Hey, I didn’t actually start all the trouble,” Mattheus reminded him.

Phil’s eyebrows rose, “But you’re adding to it whether you realize it or not. People die during comas all the time.”

“Tara didn’t die, she was killed,” said Mattheus.

Phil cleared his throat and looked in front of him. “The press are relentless and now you! We’re taking care of the problem. You’ll be happy to know that people are about to be fired,” he said grimly. “We’re hoping that will silence the papers, give the dogs their pieces of red meat.”

“Who’s going to be fired and why?” asked Mattheus, disturbed by his way of putting it.

But, before Phil could answer, Konrad suddenly appeared out of the crowd, weaving ever so slightly as he drew closer.

“Ah, here is Konrad, our hospital administrator,” said Phil, getting up as Konrad came to their row of seats.

Mattheus stood up as well. His meeting with Konrad seemed carefully orchestrated as he watched Konrad and Phil nodded at each other.

“I understand the two of you have met before,” Phil said to Mattheus, abruptly.

“We have,” Mattheus replied.

“I believe Konrad is the person you want to talk to,” Phil continued. “Our hospital administrator can answer any questions you may have. Not here, of course. Way too noisy.”

This was a clear invitation to Mattheus to leave his seat and go with Konrad to some place at the festival where they could talk out of the public gaze.

Mattheus accepted the invitation gladly. “How about it, Konrad?” he asked.

“Come with me,” said Konrad, thin lipped and annoyed.

Mattheus nodded good bye to Phil and followed Konrad through the throngs of people who were swaying, singing and thoroughly enjoying both the music and star lit night.

“Great festival, great country,” said Mattheus.

Konrad turned around and faced him. “That’s not why you’re here,” his words slurred a bit.

Drunk, thought Mattheus, as Konrad continued edging his way through the crowd up a slightly craggy hill.

Finally Mattheus and Konrad reached the top, away from the throngs of people, music and noise.

“Okay, let’s have it,” Konrad said then, “you’re not here for the music, you’re here to take us all down.”

“I’m here to find out what happened to Tara,” Mattheus answered carefully.