“Not necessary, not necessary,” Mattheus muttered as he and Cindy stepped into the elevator with the bellman.
They arrived at their suite and the bellman opened the door and dropped their bags inside.Cindy looked around at the magnificent surroundings. The room was filled with exquisite antique furniture, paintings and plants. Huge windows looked out at the sprawling ocean and sky.
“This wasn’t necessary,” Mattheus repeated.
“It’s fine,” Cindy assured him, “Owen’s just letting us know that we’re important to him.”
“It’s all just a distraction,” Mattheus was irritated by the grandeur. “What’s this guy thinking? This is not a party, it’s a murder investigation. We’re not here to join the rich and famous. We have to stay focused on his wife’s death.”
“We always stay focused,” Cindy replied as Mattheus tipped the bellman. “Let me freshen up from the plane trip and then we’re off to the hospital.”
Cindy went into the marble bathroom, splashed cool water over her face, brushed her long, wavy hair until it felt smooth and manageable. She freshened her makeup and then looked in the mirror for a long moment. The face that looked back out at her was different now, older, more worn. The ordeal she’d just been through had certainly taken a toll. Despite Cindy’s rose lipstick and suntan, a deep sorrow was etched into her skin. Would it ever leave her? Cindy had no idea.
“Are you tired? Do you need to rest?” Mattheus was calling to Cindy from outside, obviously eager to get going.
Despite herself Cindy smiled. She liked the fact that once Mattheus started on a case he wouldn’t let himself be held back by anything.
“No, I’m good to go. I’ll be there in a second,” Cindy called to him. Mattheus energized her and inspired her and she inspired him as well. They were a great combination and she knew it. She was tremendously grateful for him now.
Cindy walked out into the main room, ready to go.
“God, you look beautiful,” Mattheus declared, as if seeing her for the first time.
“You always look beautiful to me, Cindy. No matter how many times I see you, I’ll never get over it.”
Cindy smiled, went closer and hugged him. “Okay, beautiful or not beautiful, time to go,” she said, “the crime scene is waiting for us.”
*
It was a short taxi ride to the Ranges Hospital, which was situated on the top of a cliff, up a winding hill. As you drew closer you could hear the waves below beating the shore. Internationally known and tremendously expensive, the Ranges hospital was beautifully designed, filled with light, sun and views of the now turbulent ocean. When wealthy residents or visitors to Jamaica got injured or ill, this place was a haven for them. It was totally different from most of the other hospitals on the island, which were sprawling, crowded and often dirty.
“Come up here often?” Mattheus asked the driver as they were almost at the hospital entrance.
“Once in a while I take visitors here from the Sands Hotel or the Villas,” the driver sneered. “Don’t see too many of my kind of folk up here, though. And, most of the other hospitals on the island aren’t something to write home about, either.”
Mattheus bristled, “Sorry, fella, I really am,” he said. “It’s a dumb, lousy situation.”
Cindy put her hand on Mattheus’s arm to calm him down before they entered the hospital. Mattheus had an aversion to the wealthy which surfaced abruptly from time to time. Occasionally, Cindy even wondered if Mattheus enjoyed seeing the dark side of wealthy people’s lives. It validated something for him.
“Let’s start out on the right foot, Mattheus,” Cindy said as they got out of the cab and walked to the grand entrance. “We’ve got to stay neutral and clear.”
“You’re right,” Mattheus stopped and nodded. “You keep me straight, Cindy and I love that.”
Cindy squeezed his hand as they walked through the main door and entered a long marble foyer with very high ceilings. Then they went over to the reception booth where a beautiful young, Jamaican woman sat smiling at them.
“C and M Investigations,” Mattheus said to the young woman the moment they approached.
The dazzling smile left her face quickly and she looked down.
“We need to go to Tara Danden’s Room,” Mattheus continued.
“The crime scene?” the young woman asked, looking up.
“Right,” said Mattheus simply.
“I’ve been told you’d be coming,” the young woman spoke so softly now it was hard to hear. “Go to the third floor, Section 222. The room’s on the right, behind large, folding doors. There’s a sign that says no visitors permitted, the police have roped the area off.” She threw a fleeting glance at Cindy, a look of fear flickering across her eyes. “I thought the case was solved,” she murmured.
“It’s okay, we’re only here to help,” said Cindy as the young woman’s smile slowly returned and she motioned for them to proceed.
As Cindy and Mattheus walked their footsteps echoed along the highly polished floors. Then they stepped into an elevator which was filled with soft, cloying music. Everything was arranged to completely disguise the fact that they were in a hospital. The place seemed like a posh rest home, a place people went to recover, far from their everyday lives.
As Cindy and Mattheus stepped out onto third floor Cindy saw huge palm plants placed along the elegant hallways and the doors to the rooms all shut tight. A nurse or two glided by softly with no sense of urgency, illness or concern.
As the young woman had told them Section 222 was hidden behind large, opaque, folding doors with pictures of butterflies on the panels. Mattheus pulled the folding doors to the side, and as they entered the room Cindy saw yellow strips, cordoning off the area. Two beds, which were now empty and perfectly made stood side by side, and a local policeman sat in a chair beside one bed, half asleep.
Cindy and Mattheus walked through the yellow strips and into the room noisily, waking the policeman up.
“Whoah there,” he started and then rubbed his eyes.
“C and M Investigations,” Mattheus announced abruptly.
“Yeah, yeah, we’ve been expecting you,” the cop answered hastily, pulled his phone out of his side pocket and put in a quick call. “Yeah, they’re here,” he grunted into the phone. “Okay, I’ll tell them.”
Cindy took in every detail in the room as she waited for him to end the call.
“Sorry about that,” the cop said gruffly. “Gets pretty damn tiring, sitting here alone, hour after hour. The Chief of Police and a few others will be down here right away to talk to you. Sorry I was dozing off.”
Cindy smiled at him, she liked him. “No problem,” she said. “It’s pretty quiet for a hospital.”
The cop seemed to appreciate her comment. “You can call it a hospital, if you want,” he grunted, “some other floors, maybe. But this section here is dead, if you know what I mean.”
“You mean people die here,” Mattheus responded, looking around.
“Most of them do,” the policeman replied. “This is where they put the ones on the way out, anyway.”
“Are patients put here after severe accidents or illness?” Mattheus questioned.
“Nah, then they go to another floor to be worked on,” the cop continued. “They’re brought here when there’s nothing left to do for them.”
“Like a hospice?” Cindy commented.
“Not exactly,” the cop continued, “they’re still alive in a hospice, they can talk to you, get pain medication. They come here when they’re in a coma! On the way out.”
“Some people recover from comas,” Mattheus interjected quickly.
“Some do, not most,” the cop replied quietly. “The doctors play the odds, it’s a waiting game.”
Cindy felt her stomach clench. All of life was a kind of waiting game, she thought, waiting for news, waiting for love, waiting for the sun after a terrible rain. Some people waited for things that never happened and for people who would never return.
Just then the folding doors opened and two more policemen entered. A tall one introduced himself quickly.