Death by Request (Caribbean Murder #11)

*

Cindy was actually relieved to be going to the boat alone. She knew that Mattheus was playing along so she could feel better about leaving. He himself was done with the case, trying to accommodate her last wishes.

Cindy arrived at the dock in what seemed like no time and began walking towards the boat. She enjoyed both the breezes and the feel of the afternoon sun gently washing over her. Cindy knew the case was over and she had to let go, but something pulled her to keep going. Perhaps she just had to see the boat one last time to have a sense of closure.

When Cindy arrived she didn’t go on the boat, just stood alongside it looking out into the choppy sea. Deep within Cindy wasn’t at ease with the way the case had turned out. Alana’s suicide didn’t prove a thing about who actually had put an end to Tara’s life. Cindy thought of Loretta’s comment that Tara deserved better than this. Suddenly Cindy felt she might be here not only to say good bye to Tara, but to make her peace with her as well.

Cindy watched a few seagulls fly by, cawing loudly. How can I make this right for you, Tara? Cindy called out to her in her mind. What do you need for justice to be served? Cindy stood there silently then, watching people drifting in and out of other boats anchored at the dock. It was a beautiful, peaceful scene that said to Cindy that life went on no matter whether justice was served or not. As she was dwelling on that, Cindy she saw an older, local fisherman amble up to Tara’s boat and stand there, gazing at it, too. Cindy stepped a bit closer to the fisherman, interested to be sharing the experience with him.

“Beautiful boat, isn’t it?” Cindy murmured.

The fisherman turned his leathery, wrinkled face to her and shook his head slowly.

“Nothing beautiful about it, sister,” he remarked in a croaky tone. “Someone lost her life on it.”

Cindy was stunned at first, but then realized that the accident had been all over the news. He must have read about it in the paper.

“You read about the accident in the news?” Cindy asked.

“Heck no,” he shook his head harder. “Saw it for myself, yes I did. Was right out there fishing when it happened.”

Totally confused, Cindy stared at him. “Saw what for yourself?” she could barely speak.

“Honey, I was there when the guy drove this boat right into the lady. I saw him do it again and again.”

Cindy froze. She couldn’t compute what he was saying. “What are you talking about?”

“You know the case of the lady who died in the coma?” the fisherman needed to talk as well.





“Yes, of course,” said Cindy.

“She didn’t die by accident in some coma,” the fisherman spluttered. “I saw the guy on the boat driving it right into her and keep doing it. Then he pulled her out of the water a limp rag. I thought for sure she was dead right then. How she hung on so long is a mystery to me. Must have wanted to live badly.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone about this?” Cindy asked, stunned, her voice rising.

“What was there to say? She wasn’t dead. She was alive all that time in the coma,” the fisherman spluttered. “Then after she died, they took the husband to jail. What did they need me for, nothing!”

“For something,” Cindy cried out in pain.

“Now that I read in the papers that the husband got out, I’m planning to tell the cops,”

the old guy defended himself.

“When were you planning to do it?” asked Cindy, “when?”

“Today,” the old fisherman looked perturbed.

“It’s too late now,” Cindy yelled.

“Never too late for anything,” he croaked back.

The old guy meant well and Cindy felt badly yelling at him.

“Stop,” Cindy put her hand on his arm. “Don’t go anywhere. Wait right here.” Then she flipped open her phone and immediately called Mattheus.

“Tell the cops to nab Owen immediately,” Cindy shrieked over the phone.

“What the hell’s the matter?” Mattheus voice choked.

Cindy’s heart beat furiously. “I’ve got an eye witness,” Cindy hollered, “he saw Owen driving the boat into Tara, over and over again.”

“Hold on, what are you saying? I just spoke to the cops to tie things up,” Mattheus sounded flustered. “Cops told me Owen’s at the airport right now, on flight 67, United Airways, going back to the States.”

“Oh no, he’s not,” yelled Cindy. “Get there! Stop him!”

“Are you sure?” Mattheus hollered back. “Who is this witness?”

“I’m positive,” Cindy kept yelling, “definite! I’m going to the airport now. I’ll meet you there.”

“Go,” Mattheus yelled back, as Cindy hung up, took the old guy’s name and number and made him swear he’d go to the police immediately.