“Not a good idea,” said Mattheus. “Those guys down there are gonna be plenty upset. They’ll cook up all kinds of stories.”

  “I have to go,” said Cindy.

  “Okay, I’ll go with you this time,” Mattheus reluctantly agreed.

  “You can come in the car with me if you want to,” said Cindy, “but if I’m going to get anywhere with him I’ll have to go talk to Duane alone.”

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Cindy called Duane to let him know they were on the way down to see him. To Cindy’s surprise, he was relieved when he heard they were coming and told her to hurry up. Then he gave her his address and said he lived in a small shack a few blocks away from Ali.

  “We’ve got to get Ali out of jail right away.” Duane sounded devastated. “That guy’s as innocent as the newborn sun.”

  “I’m trying to help,” Cindy assured him.

  “I know you are,” he mumbled. “Get down here fast.”

  The light of the day was quickly fading as Cindy and Mattheus drove on crowded roads which were filled with early evening traffic. As they arrived, they pulled into a spot down in a crevice under a hill. On top of that hill was the road that led to Duane’s place. This was a good place for Mattheus to wait for Cindy.

  “I’ll call Kirk and talk to him while I’m waiting,” Mattheus said as they parked. “I want to see how he feels about Ali’s arrest.”

  “Great idea,” said Cindy.

  Mattheus put his hand on Cindy’s shoulder lightly. “And then this is it!” he went on. “It’s the last stop. Everyone’s waiting for the wedding and there’s only so much longer we can postpone.”

  Mattheus was right and Cindy knew it. “Okay,” she promised.

  “Don’t look so grim about it,” said Mattheus.

  “I’m not grim about the wedding,” said Cindy, “I’m grim about seeing Ali in jail. It’ll be easy for them to leave him there and throw away the key.”

  Mattheus nodded solemnly. “That’s why I’m here with you,” he said.

  “Just your being here is a huge help, Mattheus.” Cindy genuinely felt grateful that he was doing everything he could to be a support.

  Cindy gave Mattheus a hug, left the car, and then climbed the hill leading to the dangerous streets that led to Duane’s place.

  *

  The lights were on in most of the run-down homes which lined the streets Cindy walked along and reggae music blared through the open windows. In other homes it was dark with nothing but dead silence. Cindy headed straight to Duane’s place, going over in her mind what she would say to him. Duane was more of a mystery to her than Ali, whom she had liked the first moment they met.

  Duane’s house was at the very end of the next block, tucked away in the back, under scraggly palm trees. A small shack, with a sloping roof and crooked windows, it looked as if the next storm could easily blow it apart.

  Cindy walked up to the front door, which opened before she even knocked. It seemed as though Duane had been looking for her out the window, waiting with bated breath.

  “Hello,” said Cindy, looking into his large, bewildered eyes.

  “Come on in,” Duane mumbled. “Some of the other guys are here, too.”

  Cindy walked into the cluttered room, which was dark with low ceilings. A single light was on in the corner, making shadows on the floor.

  “Where are the other guys?” she asked.

  “In the back garden, smoking,” said Duane, motioning toward the back of the house.

  “They’re extra jittery tonight.”

  “Can we talk alone first before you tell them I’m here?” asked Cindy.

  “Sure,” Duane agreed, sitting nervously on a shaky chair. “What’s gonna happen to Ali?”

  “I don’t know,” said Cindy, “a lot depends on what you tell me now.”

  Duane didn’t like that. “What I tell you? What have I got to do with this lousy mess?”

  “You were at the party with him, weren’t you?” Cindy asked pointedly.

  “Sure I was at the party,” said Duane. “It’s our business. I always go. I told you that before.”

  “Yes, you did,” Cindy conceded. “Now you have to tell me what really went on between Ali and Fern. They found Ali’s stuff in Fern’s room and also under a bush a few steps from where her body was found.”

  “Damn, I know it!” Duane hit his knee hard. “It’s all over the news, isn’t it? They don’t waste a second taking us down.”

  “How did Ali’s stuff get there?” Cindy demanded.

  “How do I know?” Duane was alarmed. “There’s all kinds of trips and games that go on at these lousy parties. Someone could have pulled Ali’s scarf off his neck and given it to Fern!”

  Somehow Cindy didn’t believe that happened. “Someone gave you part of Fern’s bracelet, too, didn’t they?” She wasn’t pulling any punches.

  “Fern’s bracelet? What are you talking about?” Duane scowled.

  “I saw you give that bracelet back to Ali when I was down here last time,” Cindy said.

  Duane’s face curled up, trying to remember. “Oh yeah,” he said finally. “That piece of junk!”

  “You said it belonged to Ali.” Cindy wasn’t letting him slip or slide.

  “Hell, one of the guys gave it to me,” said Duane. “Ali collects mementos from gigs, so I thought I’d give it to him. So what?”

  “Who gave it to you, exactly?” asked Cindy pointedly.

  “One of the guys we hang out with.” Duane rubbed his foot along the dirty floor. “I think it was Emile.”

  “How did he get it?” Cindy knew she was getting close.

  “You’ll have to ask him that,” Duane snapped.

  “Was Emile also at the party?” Cindy zeroed in.

  “No, he wasn’t, but he’s here tonight. Look, we get all kinds of trophies from the girls at parties we dance at. They don’t mean a thing.”

  “But the woman at this party was killed.” Cindy’s voice became strident, trying to cut through the fog that seemed to have encompassed Duane.

  “Ali’s the greatest guy you’ll ever meet.” Duane stood up suddenly, flinging his arms out toward the side. “I never would have gotten out of jail without him. You don’t find friends like him. I owe that guy my life.”

  “You were in the smuggling ring with Ali?” Cindy was glad that Duane had brought it up.

  “There wasn’t any smuggling ring. We were set up,” Duane blustered. “We helped a few guys pick up some packages and before we knew it, we were nabbed. Stuff like that happens all the time. Someone has to go to jail for crimes, and it’s never the top honchos. They got too much clout. It’s always patsies like us.”

  Cindy stood up beside him. “I’m sorry, Duane,” she said simply. “I know that it happens all the time.”

  It wasn’t the response Duane expected and he stopped and stared at Cindy gratefully.

  “What do you want from me?” Duane asked.

  “I need to speak to Emile right away, and I also need to know who killed Fern.” Cindy wasn’t equivocating.

  Duane looked at Cindy as though she were nuts. “How would I know who killed Fern?”

  “Who do you think?”

  Duane rubbed his foot harder under him. “I have no idea, except that it definitely wasn’t Ali. He had no reason to kill Fern. She didn’t mean a thing to him. What would he have gotten from it?”

  Duane made sense but Cindy needed more. “A guest on Fern’s floor told us that she saw Ali, or someone who looked like him, knocking on Fern’s door, yelling to let him in.”

  “I heard that garbage too,” Duane muttered.

  “If it wasn’t Ali banging on the door, was it you?”

  “Me? Are you crazy?” Duane looked appalled.

  “Do you have a girlfriend, Duane?” Cindy pursued it.

  At that Duane laughed loud. “Listen, honey, every girl on the island is my girlfriend. I can have anyone I want, any time, and they’re beautiful, too. You think I need someone like that desperate party girl?”

  Cindy had enough. “Where’s Emile?” she asked. “I want to talk to him.”

  “Okay, okay, come on out back with me,” said Duane. “But don’t ask the guy stupid questions. He won’t take it well.”

  Duane turned and led Cindy then through the cluttered room, out to a long, narrow garden in the back of the house.

  *

  Out in the dark garden, there was a sense of muted panic in the air. A bunch of guys sat on wooden benches, leaning over, smoking pot and talking in hushed tones.

  “Guys, this is Cindy,” Duane introduced her as they looked up. “This is a good woman, here to help Ali.”

  Some of the guys mumbled something that Cindy couldn’t make out.

  “Right now Cindy wants to talk to Emile,” Duane continued.

  The head of a guy sitting in the middle rose slowly. “Why me?” he asked, surprised.

  “It doesn’t matter why,” said Duane, “just come over here!”

  Emile got up and walked toward Cindy. Dressed in jeans, a plaid shirt, and a scarf around his neck, Emile was powerful, with sensual energy oozing from every pore.

  “Go talk at the end of the garden,” Duane mumbled to him, “so you can have some privacy.”

  Emile nodded, and without looking at Cindy, sauntered toward the end of the garden where two small chairs were hidden under a banyan tree. Cindy followed close behind.

  “What do you want?” Emile finally said, as they sat on the rickety chairs hidden under the tree.

  “I heard that you gave Duane a bracelet that most likely belonged to one of the women at the party,” Cindy began.

  Emile was taken aback. “A bracelet? Oh yeah, my God, that. What about it?”

  “Who gave it to you?” asked Cindy.

  Emile chuckled. “A lady I didn’t know asked me to give it to Duane,” he said. “What’s this all about?”

  “Was that lady the woman who hired Ali to dance at her party?” Cindy was all over it now.

  “You mean the gal who got killed?” Emile sobered up, fast.

  “That’s right,” said Cindy in a clipped tone. “Was it Fern?”

  “No!” Emile exclaimed, looking carefully into Cindy’s eyes. “One of the other girls at her party gave it to me.”

  Emile had a boldness about him that rattled Cindy, but she plunged on anyhow.

  “Who gave the bracelet to you? What’s her name?” Emile had to answer; this information was crucial. It would put them straight on the killer’s trail.

  “I don’t know her name,” Emile shot back. “I can describe her though, tall, dark hair, pretty.”

  Cindy scanned her memory of the girls. That description covered several of them.

  “Why did she give you this bracelet? How did you meet her, anyway?” Cindy was growing impatient.

  “Listen.” Emile leaned closer. “I’m not supposed to say a thing.”

  This is a criminal investigation,” Cindy interrupted, “you have to tell me! You have no choice.”

  “Okay, okay,” Emile conceded. “These parties down here get pretty wild and some of the girls like to have a good time. Everyone knows that.” He looked at Cindy soulfully. “What guy can say no to something like that?”

  “Are you saying that Ali slept with one of the girls at the party?”

  “Not Ali.” Emile was definite. “This is his business, he gets the bookings. He dances with the guests, that’s all!”

  “Who slept with this woman, Emile?” Cindy went on. “Was it you?”

  “I only wish,” Emile grinned, “but I was out of town that night. I was visiting my mother on another island and I have people down there who saw me.”

  Emile was experienced with investigations, Cindy realized. But so was she. She was also relentless.

  “You have to tell me who slept with her,” Cindy zoned in.

  “I can’t tell you that,” Emile went on. “That’ll make bad blood between me and the brothers.”

  “Right now we have worse than bad blood, we have dead blood,” Cindy muttered. “A young woman’s blood has been spilled.”

  “And none of us here did it!” Emile swiftly stood up.

  “You don’t know that for sure.” Cindy stood opposite him. “You’ve got to tell me who slept with who, and how Fern’s bracelet turned up in your possession.”

  “I told you I can’t.” Emile stood strong.

  “No one will ever know you told me.” Cindy suddenly turned sweet. “You can trust me.”

  “How do I know that?” Emile looked skeptical.

  “You have to trust me, Emile.” Cindy felt her eyes flashing. “What choice do you have? Ali’s in jail. He’ll stay there forever if I don’t find out the truth.”

  Emile took a ragged breath. “You’re right about that, damn it,” he muttered. “Hell, I

  know which guy had a grand old time that night. I don’t know the person he slept with but I do know it wasn’t Fern. And I know he told me to keep it all super quiet.”

  “I’ll keep it super quiet,” Cindy breathed. “Tell me who he was!”

  Emile gave Cindy a long, slow glance. “It was Duane,” he finally said. “The guy just had a fun night, that’s all. And it was with someone at the party, not the gal who got killed. So, what’s the big deal?”

  “It’s a big deal, Emile.” Cindy was distressed. “Why didn’t Duane tell me that himself?”

  “Because he didn’t want to! You swore you’d keep it quiet, remember.” Emile was getting nasty.

  “I will keep it quiet,” Cindy continued, “but I also have to know who gave you the bracelet.”

  “It had to be the gal Duane slept with.” Emile looked irritated. “Duane was supposed to meet up with her in a club and was going to be late. So he asked me to do him a favor. He told me where she’d be waiting and said I should go tell her he’d be late. That’s it. Big deal.”

  “Could you identify the woman now?” asked Cindy.

  Emile shrugged. “It was pretty dark in the club. I just went over to this woman and did what Duane asked me, I told her he would be late. She got all flustered and asked who I was. Then she said she couldn’t wait another minute for him, handed me the bracelet, and said to give it to him.”

  “When did this happen?” Cindy wanted the exact time line.

  “About nine at night,” Emile answered slowly.

  “No, I mean was it after or before Fern was killed?” Cindy felt a strong urgency growing inside.

  “I’m not sure actually.” Emile looked confused.

  “Think about it carefully!” Cindy wouldn’t relent. Her mind raced in a thousand directions. The other half of that bracelet was found in Fern’s room. Was this young woman in the club trying to hide evidence? Could it have been Willow, covering something up for Dale?

  Emile took another moment to put the pieces together. “I met this lady after Fern was killed,” he replied slowly. “Then I waited for Duane, told him what happened, gave him the bracelet. He laughed and said he’d give it to Ali for a souvenir.”

  “But it was Fern’s bracelet,” Cindy uttered. “How did the woman at the club get it?”

  “Who knows that it was Fern’s bracelet?” Emile looked skeptical. “How do you know it didn’t belong to the woman at the club?”

  Emile was right. Just because she’d found the bracelet in Fern’s drawer, wasn’t proof that it belonged to her. “Thanks so much, Emile,” Cindy said softly.

  “That’s it?” he asked, taken aback.

  “For now,” she said.

  “Remember this is totally hush!” he added.

  “I remember,” said Cindy. “But one more thing, I need you to find out the name of the woman at the club. Could you do that for me?”

  “Why should I?” asked Emile, put out. “Neither her nor Duane had anything to do with the murder. They were just having fun. Duane’s not going to want to rat her out.”

  Cindy liked Emile, she was grateful to him, but she had to wake him up.

  “Emile, this is a murder investigation. It’s not about ratting anyone out. We don’t know who wanted Fern dead, or who actually killed her. Everything we find out is important. I’ve got to know the name of the woman who gave you that bracelet, the one Duane spent the night with.”

  “Dear God”—Emile closed his eyes—“can’t you let this pass? Just one time?”

  “I can’t,” said Cindy, standing up. “I promise you I’ll keep it quiet though. You’ve got to get me the name of the woman. Fair is fair, isn’t it?”

  Emile flinched. “You never said your promise came with a bargain.”

  Cindy handed him her card and contact information. “Call me at the hotel as soon as you know,” she said in a clipped tone.

  Emile took the card quickly. “Okay, go back to your hotel now. I’ll call as soon as I find out her name.”

  Chapter Twenty Six

  “Good work, good work,” Mattheus kept saying as they drove back to the hotel and Cindy filled him in. “Brilliant touch with Emile.”

  Cindy felt wonderful. “As soon as Emile calls, we can talk to the woman who Duane slept with.”

  Mattheus grew silent a moment. “If he calls, Cindy,” he said.

  “What do you mean if?” Cindy felt shaken.

  “Who’s to say he’ll actually corner Duane and find out who the woman was? It’s possible he won’t.”

  “You’re wrong, Mattheus,” said Cindy. “If Emile doesn’t do it, he knows I’ll spill the beans to Duane. That’s the last thing in the world Emile wants. Besides, Emile’s not stupid. I’ve got a bug on, recorded the entire conversation. I’m sure he realizes that.”

  “We don’t know what he realizes.” Mattheus was hesitant. “If I were you, I’d talk to those girls as soon as possible. There’s more going on with them than we think. And remember, just because one of the gals slept with Duane, doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with Fern’s death.”

  “Wrong,” Cindy objected. “Whoever slept with Duane gave him half of that bracelet. The other half was in Fern’s room, they have to be connected.”

 

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