Death by Marriage (7 page)

Mattheus
wasn’t due back until later that evening and Cindy was eager for him to return.
She enjoyed going over plans for the day with him and filling him in on what
had happened. Of course she could have called him in St. Croix, but something
stopped her. This was a new chapter for both of them and it had barely started.
She didn’t want to muddy the waters. She knew they needed distance between them
that it would give them both room to breathe. They also needed time to get to
know each other.  They’d jumped into an intense situation far too quickly, and
above all, Cindy dreaded being suffocated or suffocating him.

When
she woke up in the morning, she showered, dressed in a lime green, linen dress
and sat out on the patio of her hotel room. She’d have breakfast brought up,
read the paper, and decide how to spend the day. Cindy put her legs up on a
chair near the table and threw her head back, looking up at the sky. This work
was certainly fascinating, if not tricky at times.  She loved hunting down
clues, meeting new people, following her gut instincts. So far, she’d put
everything she’d gathered into a carved wooden box she’d found on the bureau of
her room.  Now she stuck Andrea’s card in it and the napkin with the name of
the woman she was to meet next. She also wanted to return to Kendra’s and meet
her daughter Nell.  Like separate pieces of a broken puzzle, they would all
come together when the time was right.

There
was a knock on her door and breakfast was carried in on a tray.  Cindy signed
for it and thanked the waiter. Then she took her plate with her out onto the
patio and ate slowly, enjoying the clear, salty morning air. The heat didn’t
start to come into until a little later, thick, muggy, humid weather at this
time of year. It was lovely to take a few moments to enjoy the early morning
breezes. She didn’t have much time though. Clearly, her next move was to find
the woman Andrea told her about, Heather May.

Cindy
finished breakfast, picked up the phone and asked for information. It could be
just as simple as that. Heather May could be listed.

She
wasn’t.

Next
Cindy called the police station and asked for Fred Brayton. After a few minutes
he picked up the phone.

“Hi,
this is Cindy Blaine.”

There
was silence for a second on the other side. “Oh yeah,” he said finally. “I
remember, sure. What’s going on?” He sounded busy and official.

“I’m
trying to find the address of a woman I want to talk to,” Cindy said. “Can you
give me a hand?”

“Who?”
his interest perked up.

“Heather
May,” said Cindy.

He
laughed.

Cindy
was taken aback.  “You know her?”

“Everybody
knows her. We talked to her already, sweetheart. Who gave you her name?”

“The
owner of Salon B,” said Cindy, “Andrea.”

He
laughed harder. “Boy you sure get around town quick. Andrea’s a character, all
right. You been to the Salon already?”

Cindy
didn’t like the tone in his voice. He spoke to her as if she were a child. “Not
yet,” she said, offended.

“That
dame’s a hoot. Where’d you meet her?” Brayton went on.

Enough
was enough.  Cindy wasn’t going to join in bad mouthing women. “I’d like
Heather May’s address and phone number if you have it,” she said officially.

“That’s
a wild goose chase,” Brayton answered. “She lives way at the edge of town,
frizzy hair, always out on her porch, smoking dope. Fancies herself some kind
of artist.  She’s not. Had a questionable connection with Paul too, if you
asked me. Very peculiar. You can’t believe a thing she says.”

“Great,”
said Cindy, “I’d like to see her anyway.”

“You’re
damn persistent for a woman, “Brayton said then.

Cindy
shuddered and decided to have as little contact with the police as possible
from now on.  She didn’t need them. She’d let Mattheus handle that.

 “I’ll
run by her place for a little while,” said Cindy. “Never know what I can pick
up.”

Brayton
paused, grumbled and acquiesced. “Do it your way, what do I care? Use your time
however you like. I’m not the one paying for it.” Then he gave her Heather May’s
address - 42 Ravine Road. “It’s down past the junction that leads to the Pier
on the left side of the island.  Turn left there and keep going, until you can’t
go another minute. The house is there. A ramshackle place. I don’t have her
phone, don’t know if she even has one.”

Cindy
hung up the phone. What was wrong with these guys? They lived in a time warp
where women were treated like imbeciles. She could see clearly why women in
trouble down here wanted a woman detective. At least Cindy had gotten Heather
May’s address.  She decided to rent a car and drive down there herself to talk
to her.

*

The
trip down was tricky. The roads curved and wound up and down, along narrow
edges, and through hills lined with trees, wild bushes, sprawling vines.
Lizards, frogs and other little animals were everywhere, popping out at the
most unexpected moments. The sun shone in Cindy’s eyes most of the time as she
drove.

This
was probably a good trip to have taken with Mattheus, Cindy thought for a
moment, and then quickly brushed the thought aside. She had to remember that Mattheus
needed plenty of space. She’d felt a little pang when she thought about it, but
brushed it away. This wasn’t a relationship, it was a business partnership.
They’d fill each other in when he got back into town. She’d chosen this job and
had better grow strong enough to be able to handle it, learn to stand firmly on
her own two feet.  From the moment she’d met Clint years ago, she’d always felt
taken care of.  It had meant a lot to her then. Now things were different.
Clint had been dead for a bunch of months, and she was in an equal partnership
now. 

She
drove down a bumpy, unpaved road to the address she’d gotten for Heather May. 
This part of town was untouched, hidden and wild. Trees, brush and wild life of
all kinds, were tangled up in each other. Shafts of bright light shone through
the trees and then disappeared suddenly in heavy shadows that lined the roads.

Cindy
came to a small, wooden house with an open porch that wound around it. Beyond
that, there was no road. Cindy got out of the car. A thick smell of leaves,
pines, and moist soil wafted up. This had to be Heather May’s place. She walked
closer, feeling like an intruder, trying not to make a sound.

To
Cindy’s surprise a sound of chimes rang out as she got closer to the entrance.
They were hanging along the edge of the porch, ready to warn whoever was inside
that someone was approaching. Just as Cindy expected, the front door opened
then, and a woman, in her mid-forties came out. She had on a long cotton skirt
and skimpy T shirt. Her long, golden, frizzy hair framed a pretty face. She
stared at Cindy, uncomprehending.

“I’m
Cindy Blaine,” Cindy announced, before she took another step. The last thing
she wanted to do in the world was frighten this woman, who already seemed
startled and alone.

“Who?”
the woman asked softly, confused.

“Andrea
gave me your name,” Cindy said then.

The
woman curled her forehead, thinking. “From Salon B?” she asked finally.

Cindy
nodded.

“Okay,”
she said then, smiling slightly, “come on up.”

Cindy
took small steps carefully as she approached her, aware that Heather May was
examining her from head to toe.

“I’m
Heather May,” the woman said finally, in a soft tone.

Cindy
was relieved that she’d passed inspection and Heather was talking to her.

“Sit
down out here on the porch,” said Heather.  “I’ll go in and get you some
lemonade.”

“There’s
no need for lemonade,” said Cindy, not wanting to put her to any trouble.

“Of
course there is,” said Heather. “It’s refreshing in the afternoon, especially
before the heavy clouds come. And they come more often these days, just before
the hurricane season.” Then she wiped her hands along the sides of her skirt,
turned and walked back in.

The
porch had a few wicker chairs and an old, red, leather glider that was ripped,
here and there. Cindy wanted to sit on the glider, but she chose a wicker chair
with plump tropical cushions on it.

In
a few minutes, Heather came out, carrying lemonade glasses with a slice of lime
and cherry in them. She offered one to Cindy, staring straight into her eyes.
Then she laughed.

“Two
days ago, Marshmallow told me someone unexpected would be arriving. I didn’t
really believe what he said. I never do. And he’s almost never wrong.”

Cindy
smiled. “Who’s Marshmallow ?”

“He
reads the stars, feels the tides, knows when the earth is turning.”

Despite
her wild, frizzy hair Heather had a strange beauty that pulled you in.

“Thanks
for having me here,” Cindy said then, raising the lemonade to her lips. It was
delicious and hit the spot.

“You’ve
come about Paul?” Heather asked then, drinking her lemonade along with Cindy,
eyes half closed.

“How
did you know?” asked Cindy startled.

“No
other reason Andrea would have sent you. She and I spent hours together after
he died, going over every last detail. It was a terrible shock to everyone.”

“I
can imagine,” said Cindy.

Heather
gazed at her calmly. “Yes, you can,” she said. “You’ve been there. I feel it,
you understand.”

Cindy
breathed more easily. She and Heather had an odd kinship, they understood one
another, appreciated what each had been through.

“How
long did you know Paul?” Cindy asked carefully.

“It
was not that I knew him,” Heather said quietly, “it was that he was my whole
life. Our love affair lasted for about three years. It kept both of us going. 
Can you understand that?”

 Cindy
nodded. “Yes, of course,” she said.

“I
believe you. I see that you’ve suffered,” Heather said. “Actually, you can’t
believe a person or trust them unless they’ve suffered, terribly.”

Her
voice grew louder, like music, thought Cindy.

“If
we hadn’t been together when we were, Paul could not have gone on,” Heather
said.

“Our
relationship filled a deep need of his that nothing else ever could.”

Cindy
wondered for a moment how true that was. She resisted the impulse to look
around the place Heather lived in and wonder why Paul hadn’t fixed it up for
her.

Heather
laughed then, as if reading Cindy’s mind. “I like my place just as it is. I’m
different from the others. I didn’t want his money. That’s why he needed me.”

 Cindy
smiled then. “I understand,” she said.

“Paul
was an incredibly hungry man,” Heather said softly, leaning towards Cindy. She
seemed to get pleasure talking about him.  “I’m not saying I was all he needed,
but I was an important part. Very important.”

“Were
you in a relationship when he was killed?” Cindy asked softly.

“Are
you a detective or something?” Heather asked then.

Cindy
nodded slowly.

“Really?”
said Heather, giggling with delight. “It becomes you. This is your right work.
You’re soft and gentle. People sense it. You’ll find out everything you need
this way. Don’t give it up.”

“I
don’t plan to give it up,” said Cindy.

“You
might though,” said Heather. “You’re tangling with a vicious world. It might
not look that way at first, but under the smiles and flowers, this place is a terrifying
jungle.”

Cindy
breathed deeply.

“The
human heart is a jungle,” Heather went on. “You don’t know how much yet, but
you’ll soon find out.” Then she finished the rest of her lemonade.

Cindy
drank along with her and they both put their glasses down at the same moment.

“I
believe you’ve been sent to me to encourage you. Do you do this work alone?”
Heather asked, curious.

“I
have a partner,” said Cindy.

“A
guy?”

“Yes,
another detective.”

Heather
smiled. “He’s probably madly in love with you, pretending to be all business.”

“Not
at all,” said Cindy flinching. It wasn’t like that and she didn’t want it to
be.

“Of
course he is, that’s how guys are.”

Cindy
smiled and felt a pang of pain.  “Not in this case. We’re both involved in the
work,” she said. “That’s it.”

“That’s
what they all say,” said Heather.

“My
husband was killed just a few months ago,” Cindy couldn’t help saying. “On our
honeymoon.”

Heather’s
mouth dropped open. “That’s horrible.”

Cindy
wasn’t exactly sure why she’d told her that. Maybe she just wanted to preserve
Clint’s memory and give him respect.