Cindy remembered that Kendra’s husband was a criminal lawyer and that she had to know very well how the system worked.
“I’ve also seen the way the police here can zero in on one person and not bother about looking at anything else,” Kendra added. “It makes it easier for them, doesn’t it? They get their suspect and hound them until they crush them to a pulp.” She smiled then, an odd, bitter smile, and ran her hands through her hair. Obviously she was completely frazzled from the ordeal she was going through.
An expensive car was waiting at a curb. The three of them got in and drove along winding curvy roads, then through a bustling built up town, filled with tourists, locals, palm trees, and low buildings.
“Our home is at the other end of the town,” Kendra said, as they all fell silent and looked out the window. “The police have scoured it day after day. I’m not sure exactly what they’re looking for. I ask them but they don’t tell me. That’s why I hired you, to intercede with them for me, be an advocate. I want you to turn over every piece of unexamined evidence that I know is lying around. Find the real killer. Whoever it is, they’re out there in plain view, walking around like nothing happened. I’m paying you half up front and the rest when it’s over. And, there’ll be a big bonus on top of it when the killer’s locked up in jail.”
Cindy was struck with her vehemence. But Kendra had every reason to be unnerved, she’d been the main suspect since her husband was found. And she had to deal with the loss of him, on top of that.
“They keep going over my home,” Kendra said fitfully. “There’s nothing to find there.
We lived a good life. We were happy. He was a good man. No one in our home had anything to do with this. No one knows anything about it.” Her voice rose as she repeated these words, which Cindy imagined she had said again and again. To no avail. The papers reported that she was still the chief suspect.
Despite herself, Cindy shivered as she remembered her friend in Grenada, Dalia constantly telling her how happy she and her husband were, and what a good man he was. Cindy tossed her head to clear her mind. She had to realize that each situation was different. She had to give this woman a chance. Kendra and Dalia were different. It was dangerous to create suspicion so quickly based on something that had happened before. And it was easy to do, Cindy realized.
“It’s easy to miss a piece of evidence,” Mattheus said, “or to even realize that something’s important. When you check and re-check, suddenly something hits you.”
“Well, there’s nothing in my home,” Kendra repeated in an abrasive tone.
Cindy moved closer to Kendra in the car. “They have to believe that there’s something in your home that will lead them to the killer. It’s routine to investigate the family and next of kin,” she said kindly.”
There was something about this woman, though, that drew doubt to her. It would be a challenge to find out who Kendra truly was and what had really gone on. And Cindy would.
The car drove through the business section quickly, past the buildings and open malls, up one hill and down another, to a neighborhood of private homes, facing out onto the ocean. The car pulled up in front of a beautiful, white stucco house, with perfect gardens in the front and a huge open porch surrounding it.
“Here we are,” said Kendra.
“What a beautiful home,” breathed Cindy, taking in the grandeur.
“It was a beautiful home,” said Kendra, bitterly. “For many years. Now it’s being invaded by the whole world.”
Cindy was about to say something, but looked over at Mattheus who shook his head. He was letting her know that she should back off. There was no need to soothe Kendra – they were stepping into a tangled situation, and had to allow everything to be revealed. Cindy appreciated Mattheus’ experience, and his sensitivity. She caught his eye and smiled at him. He smiled back as they got out of the car and walked to the front door.
Kendra’s home was decorated lavishly, with large antique vases, huge plants, expensive, furniture and amazing paintings covering the walls.
“Paul loved fine art,” Kendra said, as Cindy looked slowly around. “He was a connoisseur of everything– art, food, antique vases.”
“You have a wonderful collection.”
“Paul earned it. He worked hard. He did well.” Kendra sat down on the couch then, as if the wind were suddenly knocked out of her. “And look how he died. Horrifying.”
Cindy took a deep breath and sat down beside her on the couch.
A housekeeper appeared, bringing a pitcher of water and glasses.
“Thanks Maggie,” said Kendra. “Please ask our guests what else they’d like and bring it here for them. And bring me a Marguerite, please.” Then she tossed a quick look at Cindy and Mattheus. “Of course I never started drinking so early in the day, but with this incredible tension, what else is there to do?”