Death by Betrayal (Book #10 in the Caribbean Murder series) (5 page)

“Because
I love her,” the words spilled out of Cindy. “I want to see her, to say
good-bye.”

Trage
put his hand on her shoulder. “There’s lots of ways to say good-bye. I don’t
think it’s not a good idea for you to see her in the morgue.”

“I’m
going anyway,” Cindy insisted.

“I’ll
take you there if you insist,” said Trage, “but, first let me ask you one thing.”

“What?”
asked Cindy, impatient.

“Don’t
you think it’s a good idea for you to call your partner down to help you with a
case like this?” Trage asked tentatively.

Cindy
stopped cold. “Mattheus is busy with another case,” she repeated, not meeting
Trage’s eyes.

“But
this isn’t just another case. I’d say this was an emergency,” Trage broke in. “The
victim’s your sister. I’m sure he would want to be down here to help you with
it.”

Cindy
suddenly paused. Yes, of course, Mattheus would want to help her with this, but
Cindy didn’t know if she could ask him. She wasn’t even sure if they were still
a team. Right now he was with Andrea and Petra. Cindy had no idea if Mattheus
was getting back with Petra; if he wanted them to become a real family. If that
was happening, Cindy couldn’t bear having him around, ever.

“Thanks
for the suggestion,” said Cindy, “I’ll think it over.”

Trage
looked surprised. “Think it over? This is an emergency in your life, Cindy.”

Cindy
suddenly realized how difficult it must be for Trage and the other cops to deal
with a detective who was investigating her own sister’s death. They’d probably
feel much better if Mattheus was around, with a cooler had.

“I’ve
been through other emergencies before,” Cindy stood taller. “When my husband
was killed on our honeymoon in Barbados, I handled the investigation myself. No
one even thought it was a murder. They all thought it was an accident, and I
didn’t even know Mattheus then. I just pushed forward on my own and found his
killer.”

Trage
whistled under his breath. “I’m sorry,” he  said, “I had no idea.”

“I
can do this on my own again,” Cindy went on.

Trage
looked at her with admiration, “I respect you Cindy, I l really do,” he replied.
“I had no idea about your husband being killed. I’ll do whatever works for
you.”

Neither
Trage nor Cindy said a word in the car as they drove to the morgue. Though it
was a short drive through thick underbrush, time seemed to stretch out forever.
They day, which had started out sunny, quickly grew overcast as well, only adding
to the gloom. It was unusual weather for this time of year.

“It’s
too early for the hurricane season, isn’t it?” Cindy said to Trage, wiping the
perspiration from her forehead, as the stultifying humidity rose.

“Yes,
it is,” he nodded. “The official hurricane season is from June through
November, but the humidity can rise quite a bit in May.  Some people have
difficulty with it,” and he looked over at Cindy. “Heat stroke, rashes -.”

Cindy
didn’t want to hear anymore. “It’s fine, it’s nothing,” she stopped him. “At
least I can feel hot and sweaty – Ann can’t feel anything anymore.”

“That’s
one way of looking at it,” Trage said.

“I
should be grateful I’m hot and sweaty,” Cindy continued. “And, if a hurricane
came, at least I could watch the waves get wild and beautiful. Ann will never
see that again.”

“Cindy,
I’m staying beside you as you view your sister,” Trage remarked as the car
turned a corner and drove up to a long, low, flat, stucco building, which
housed the morgue, and parked in front of it.

“It’s
not necessary,” said Cindy, turning to him. “I need time with my sister alone.
You can wait  outside.”

“I’m
not waiting outside,” Trage seemed deeply uneasy. “I’ll wait in the office up
front.”

Cindy
shrugged, “Wait wherever you like, but I want to be alone with Ann.”

“It’s
not the way you think it will be,” Trage remarked, anxiously. “I’ve seen
families come to view bodies –it’s heartbreaking and nerve wracking.”

Cindy
nodded, “Of course it is,” she whispered, trying to open the car door to get
out.

Trage
put his hand on hers and stopped her. “Family members don’t usually go in
alone,” he continued quietly. “Relatives aren’t allowed to touch or hold the
body in any way at all,” he emphasized.

“Of
course not,” Cindy continued for him, “that’s in order to preserve any forensic
evidence that may still be present.”

“Exactly,”
said Trage.

“Let’s
go,” Cindy shook his hand off. She was eager to get out and into the building.

Trage
wasn’t ready yet, though. “Cindy, your sister’s being held in one of the
refrigerated drawers. You’ll only be able to look through a curtained window at
her face.”

Cindy’s
entire body trembled.

“I
don’t say this to disturb you,” Trage’s voice caught in his throat. “I want you
to be prepared.”

“I
am prepared,” said Cindy.

 “No,
you’re not, you just think you are,” Trage was insistent. “Everything’s
happening too fast; you jumped into the role of a detective without having had time
to take it all in.”

Cindy
wondered why Trage cared so much.

“I’ve
received a call from a friend of yours back home, Pastor Mallord,” Trage went
on as if hearing her unspoken question.

Cindy
smiled slightly. “He’s a wonderful man,” she said softly.

“Mallord’s
worried about you. He told me all about you, said they don’t make women like
you anymore.” Trage continued. “I promised I’d watch over you for him.”

“Thank
you,” said Cindy, touched.  

“Mallord
told me to tell you you’re in his prayers,” Trage went on, uncomfortable.

Cindy
nodded. She needed his prayers now and so did Ann. Trage was right, Cindy
hadn’t had the time to absorb any of this, but what difference did that make?  She
had to find Ann’s killer and clear Frank right away. What good would it do
anyone for Cindy to sit alone now and sob?  Grieving was a luxury she couldn’t afford
right now.

“Come
on, let’s go,” said Cindy. “It’s enough, I get it! I want to see my sister
now.”

*

             Cindy and Trage got out of the car and walked into the building
that housed the morgue. The ceilings were low and the walls made of stucco. In contrast
to the moist heat outside it was incredibly cold in here. Cindy shivered
terrifically.

As
they walked to the front desk Trage said a few words to a thin lipped British
woman at the desk, who nodded somberly. She wore no makeup and looked at Cindy
oddly before she picked up the phone to call for an attendant.

“The
attendant will take you to the waiting room where families sit before they view
the body,” explained Trage.

“Ann’s
not a body, she’s my sister,”” Cindy replied.

“Of
course she’s your sister,” Trage backed off.

“Something
else could have happened to her,” Cindy went on. “And only I would recognize it,
because I know every little thing about Ann. If there’s an unusual mark that
wasn’t there before, I’ll make note that it should be scrutinized.”

“Good
enough,” Trage agreed.

“Besides,
when will I have a chance to see her again?” Cindy suddenly asked, petulantly.

Trage
looked distressed. “I understand,” he replied.

“Really?”
Cindy wanted to know.

“Yes,
I do,” Trage remarked. “I’m close to every one of my brothers and sisters. If something
like this happened to any of them, it would break me in two.  I couldn’t do
what you’re doing now, Cindy.”

It
meant a great deal to Cindy that he understood.

“You’re
not alone with this, either, Cindy,” Trage went on. “Your mother and uncle
called early this morning. They arrived in Bermuda late last night, staying at
the same hotel as you.”

 “Do
they want to come down here and see Ann, too?” The idea of it relieved Cindy.
She wanted the entire family to come and say good-bye, to give Ann the farewell
she so richly deserved.

“No,
your mother didn’t say that,” Trage answered quickly, “she just mentioned to me
that Ann wanted to be cremated.”

A
long, slow chill passed through Cindy’s body. She remembered that Ann had
mentioned cremation on various occasions.

“That’s
right, she did want that,” Cindy replied, “but we can’t do it right away. The
body’s a trove of evidence, isn’t it?”

“It’s
going to be checked for everything,” Trage assured her. “Forensic pathologists
are routinely flown in from Canada and tissue samples are gathered and sent
away for further testing.”

Cindy
felt some relief at that.

“Have
you seen or spoken to your family yet?” Trage continued, obviously upset that
Cindy was alone.

The
thought of seeing her family hadn’t even crossed Cindy’s mind, though.

 “I’m
sure they need you,” Trage urged.

“My
sister needs me more, first I want to see her,” said Cindy said abruptly, as a
tall, heavy set, Caribbean attendant made his way to where Cindy was standing. 
They looked at each other briefly and without a word he motioned her to follow
him,

“I’ll
be waiting right here,” Trage called after her, nervously.

Cindy
felt a wave of appreciation for Trage’s  concern. “Thank you,” she called back,
“you’re special, so helpful. It means a lot!”

*

Cindy’s
footsteps grew slower and heavier as she trailed behind the attendant to a
large, grey door. He opened it and she walked into a small waiting room on the
side. Before she even sat down, though, a woman dressed in white trousers and puffy
jacket, her face covered with a sterile mask, came into the waiting room and
guided Cindy with her into the morgue.

The
morgue was a large, cold, antiseptic, and reeked of death. The shock of being
in here rolled over Cindy like an enormous, dark wave. For a horrible instant,
her knees buckled and she felt herself going under.

“My
God,” Cindy uttered.

The
woman turned and put her hand on Cindy’s shoulder. “You okay?” she asked.

“I’m
okay,” Cindy managed, rallying. “Where’s my sister?”

The
woman pointed to the far wall where the bodies were stored in heavy drawers.
The two of them walked there slowly and the woman leaned over to one drawer and
pulled out Ann. The body was covered by a plain, white cloth but there was a
plastic cover over her face. Cindy could still see her.

Ann’s
face was fathomless, still, completely grey, only a mask of the beautiful woman
she had been. Cindy retched as the room started spinning and felt as if she
would vomit.

“Ann,
Ann,” Cindy cried out.

The
woman turned abruptly and steadied Cindy, as if she were accustomed to this
kind of response.

After
a few moments Cindy regained her balance. “Show me her wounds,” Cindy pleaded.  “I’m
a detective and I know that the body holds secrets - speaks loud and clear.”

“Yes,
it does, dear,” the woman agreed.

Thankfully,
the woman pulled down the edge of the white sheet until Cindy could see Ann’s
neck. It was covered with scratches that were wide and jagged and looked as
though they’d been made by claws. Cindy stared at them, long and hard.  

“These
wounds will be checked thoroughly?” Cindy asked the woman. “There’s got to be
everything here, DNA here, fingerprints, the works.”

“Absolutely,”
the woman agreed. “Don’t worry, we have one of the best forensic teams imaginable.
Nothing will be left unexplored.”

Cindy’s
heart pounded as she stared at Ann’s neck. “My sister struggled for her life,” she
murmured.

“It
looks that way,” the woman paused. “I’m sorry.”

“She
suffered like hell,” Cindy’s voice grew gritty. “She was overpowered but she
knew what was happening. She knew she was dying, I feel it!”

“We
don’t have those details yet,” the woman tried to ground Cindy.

“But
it’s obvious, isn’t it?” Cindy snapped.

“Nothing
is obvious,” the woman said strongly. “We imagine all kinds of horrible things,
but we have to investigate everything, inch by inch.”

“No,
you’re wrong,” Cindy shook her head wildly, as if to shake the horrible scene
away. “Investigate or not, some things are obvious. I can feel Ann’s struggle, she
was screaming for help.”

“Do
you want time alone with your sister?” the woman backed away.

To
her surprise, Cindy did not. She saw what she needed. This was enough. Of
course ultimately Cindy wanted time with her sister, but Ann was definitely not
here anymore. This was only a shell that she’d left behind. Cindy desperately
needed to connect with her sister, and somehow she would, but this was not the
place or time.

“Thank
you for your help,” Cindy said to the woman, as she quickly pivoted, turned and
fled from the room.

As
Cindy walked back to the front desk she quieted down, knew she had to become
strong and planted. When she walked out of the morgue, Cindy had to return to a
place that went on as if nothing awful every happened beneath the island’s
beautiful exterior.

*

By
the time Cindy saw Trage up front, she’d gathered herself, thanked him and let
him drive her back to the hotel.

“You
have all the evidence you need on the body,” Cindy finally broken the silence
between them in the car.

“Looks
like it,” Trage acquiesced, “but we can’t be sure until results are in.”

“Have
you started the steps to let me take Frank out on bail?” Cindy quickly turned
to Trage.

“Actually,
I have,” he responded. “It’ll only be a little while.”

“That
helps,” said Cindy, grateful. “I’m sure my mother will want to have him back
with her at the hotel.”

They
drove up to the hotel entrance and Cindy put her hand on Trage’s for a second.

“Thank
you again and again for everything,” she murmured.

“Go
see your family now, Cindy,” Trage replied in a low voice.

*

As
soon as Cindy got out of the car and stepped into the lobby she realized how
completely exhausted she was. The only thing she wanted to do was go and lay on
her patio in the sun, regain her strength before taking the next steps.

As
was her habit, Cindy walked to the front desk to check for messages, before
going upstairs.  To her surprise a note was waiting from her mother, written in
a scrawled handwriting.

Urgent, 
your uncles and I are in our room on the sixth floor, waiting. We need to see
you immediately!

Cindy’s
hands shook as she read the desperate words. Seeing her mother and uncles now
would only make her feel worse - but what choice did she have? They were all
living in the same nightmare together.  Cindy picked up the house phone and
called.

“Cindy,
where were you?” a high, shrill voice answered on the other end. It was her
mother, completely beside herself. Of course she was, thought Cindy. How could
it be otherwise? Ann had always been her mother’s favorite. She’d lived close
to her mother her whole life long.