Death by Honeymoon

Chapter 19

Cindy’s meeting with Officer James E. Farnell at the FBI took less than fifteen minutes. Farnell was a big, heavy set, square jawed guy, who’d been through this a thousand times. Cindy brought all the information she had about Clint’s death, along with everything that had happened since then, including the company reports, and placed it all squarely on Farnell’s desk.

He sat there chewing on his bottom lip, examining the papers.

His eyes half closed, he peered at Cindy. “It’s all circumstantial,” he finally said.

Cindy’d heart dropped. “You won’t take on the case?” she asked.

“There’s no case here,” he said.

Cindy’s heart dropped.

“I’m not saying it’s not adding up. It’s interesting,” Farnell stuck out his jaw and tapped his thumb on it. “I need more. Something solid, something direct. You’re asking us to take on an international oil drilling firm, with connections in Washington. This isn’t enough.”

“Help me out,” Cindy said suddenly aggrieved.

“Sorry,” Farnell said.

“Wait a minute,” Cindy got angry. “You’re telling me to just forget it?”

A little smile crept around the edges of her mouth. He liked her spunk. Cindy saw that.

“No, I’m not. I’m saying there’s not enough here to start an investigation.”

“What else do I need?”

“Get me the original Coroner’s report,” Farnell said. “I want to see it firsthand. Get me a witness. Who found the body? Who collected evidence? What did they find? And what about the crime scene?”

Cindy’s mind was racing. She pulled out her pad and started taking notes.

“The crime scene was in the ocean,” she said, tears suddenly filling her eyes.

“How do you know?”

That stopped Cindy cold.

“What kind of evidence was collected? I need the exact condition of the body, what exactly was inside it or outside?

“I’d have to go back to Barbados to get those kinds of specifics,” she breathed.

“So, go,” he said.

The second he said it, a jolt raced through Cindy. She knew it was right. It felt right. Yes. Barbados. Of course. She had to go back.

Cindy felt nervous, but excited.

“Can I keep in touch with you?”

“Send me evidence if you get it, and I’ll take a look.

And as far as all of your theories about DGB and the sudden death of Greg…”

“Hamden,” Cindy said.

He wrote it down. “Hamden, right…well, I’m not promising anything, but I’ll look into it,” he relented.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Cindy said.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “Let’s see what you come up.”

Cindy stood.

“One more thing,” he added.

She stopped and turned.

“If there was some sort of cover up down there, you might be walking into the hornet’s nest. If the local police were paid off, if they had a hand in falsifying evidence, then don’t go looking to them for help.”

Cindy swallowed, nervous. She hadn’t thought of that.

“But then…” she began, “who can I turn to?”

“Just keep your head low, get what you need, and come back,” he said. “But if you find yourself in any kind of trouble, get to the U.S. Embassy. And call me from there.”

Cindy’s heart pounded in her chest, as she wondered how badly all of this could go.