Choreographed Crime (Miss Demeanor 3) (4 page)

Chapter Eight

Lama whistled while he packed some rice and beef stew in take-out containers before he headed out for Maile’s apartment.

Maile answered the door in sweatpants and an oversized gray T-shirt with a Hang Loose logo.

Lama held out the bag of food. “You must feel better.”

“Good as new.”

“Nice digs.”

“Yeah, I like it. My partner’s uncle owns the building, so he made it affordable.”

She walked to the fridge and took out two Longboards. Lama raised his bottle to hers. “I’m supposed to remind you to stop at three.”

Maile nodded. “I’ll only have a couple. Hair of the dog and all that.”

Lama kissed her on the cheek. “Well, here’s to getting to know you better.”

Maile clinked bottles with him, took a swig and opened the food bag.

She went back to the kitchenette and grabbed forks, spoons and bowls. They sat down at the table and removed the plastic tops from the containers. Maile closed her eyes and took an audible breath. “Mmm, mmm, mmm.”

She asked Lama to pose for a photo with the food so she could send it to her Auntie Lei in Hawai’i.

Lama loved to watch this woman with food. “Do you always get so excited about food?”

“Only good Hawaiian style food.” She scooped some rice and beef stew into her bowl and started to eat. “Who taught you to cook?”

“My mom. Seems like we’ve always cooked together.”

“Give her my compliments.”

“Will do.”

They talked about Hawai’i and Lama said he remembered when his family first moved to Seattle. “I was sixteen and loved to surf. My mom and dad tried to get me interested in other things, like football, but nothing compares to the feel of the wave under my board.”

“I know what you mean. I miss riding the waves, too.”

Lama emptied his Longboard and Maile fetched another one from the fridge. “Later on, my mom admitted to me she’d felt homesick for the whole first year we were here.”

“I hope my homesickness stops before a year is up. Eating Hawaiian food helps with the transition though.” She took a bite of stew.

Lama helped clear the dishes and Maile put on some Israel Kamakawiwo’ole music. When “Over the Rainbow” played, Lama took Maile’s hands and pulled her into a dance. He urged her closer and whispered in her ear that he wanted her. She tilted her head backwards to receive his kiss. He stroked her back and kneaded her bottom while he planted kisses on her face, ears and neck.

Maile tugged at his shirt and caressed his chest. She led him to her bedroom. Lama lowered her to the bed and slowly unbuttoned her shirt. He started from the top button and trailed kisses from her neck to her navel. Her body rose in response.

She reached for the front clasp to her bra and Lama watched as her golden brown breasts spilled out. He lowered his body to hers and tugged at her sweatpants.

Lama’s phone rang and interrupted the magic.

The ringtone belonged to Clarissa.

****

Maile rolled over and connected the clasp on her bra. Maybe she should be glad for the interruption. She had work to do in the morning and still didn’t know a lot about Lama, except that he took phone calls in the middle of a heated moment.

She suspected a woman on the other end of the line because Lama excused himself to the bathroom with his phone in hand.

Maile went to the kitchen, opened another beer and turned on the TV.

When Lama joined her he sat down next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Sorry about that. I have to go. My friend has an emergency.”

Maile looked at his face. “Yeah. We were moving too fast anyway.”

“Or not fast enough.”

“Either way, go take care of your friend. I have work to do.”

Lama leaned in and kissed her goodbye.

Maile showered and took her laptop to bed.

****

Lama arrived at the food truck late. He’d been up most of the night consoling Clarissa and had only slept for a couple of hours.

He may have blown it with Maile, but Clarissa was so fragile he felt he needed to help her. When she told him on the phone she wanted to kill herself, he’d told her he’d be right over and not to do anything rash.

When he arrived at her apartment, she answered the door in pastel pink, satin shortie pajamas. She wrapped her arms around his neck before he even entered the apartment. He’d carried her to the couch where she sat on his lap and cried. He held her as he would a small child and tried to sooth her with his words. She whimpered for over an hour and then started to kiss Lama’s neck and whisper she missed him. She laid her hands on the sides of his face and said she needed him. Her lips met his and he’d given in to his desire and kissed her deeply. She removed her pajama top and lowered his head to her small firm breasts.

He relished the feel of her flesh and succumbed to the temptation. She rose from his lap and removed her panties. At the doorway to her bedroom, she called to him. “Come, Floriano. Come to my bed. No one will know.”

Lama had stared at her. “Floriano?”

She shook her head and looked dazed. She tumbled backwards and threw herself on the bed. Lama entered the bedroom. She sobbed into her pillow and called Floriano’s name.

Lama sat in a chair beside the bed and talked to her until she slept. When she quieted, he rested on the bed beside her and slept as well. In the morning, he hoped she’d be more lucid.

Then this morning, she’d nudged him and asked if he had been in her bed all night and he said only after she was asleep. She wrapped a sheet around her naked body and went to the bathroom to shower.

He drove her to the ballet studio and waited until she was safely inside before he went back home to exchange the Mustang for the food truck. Lama decided he’d talk to Edward about Clarissa’s level of anxiety. Maybe Edward could make sure she took the medication the doctor prescribed after the shock of Floriano’s death. Lama still cared about her, but if he wanted to have a chance with Maile, he knew he had to try to stay clear of Clarissa. She felt like a mythical Siren to him and if he gave in to her again, he would surely crash and burn.

Chapter Nine

Maile turned the empty prescription bottle over in her hands. She wondered how many pills it took for a lethal dose. Then it occurred to her that Floriano died on the fifth. His prescription for thirty tablets renewed on the sixth. He would only have had one tablet left on the night he died. The additional digitalis in his system must have come from some other source. She’d have to follow up on that after she interviewed Clarissa.

Maile located the alleyway behind the Seattle Ballet building and walked toward Clarissa.

“He was my lover,” Clarissa announced.

Maile sucked in her breath. “What? Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“We kept it secret.”

“Why?”

“It’s considered taboo by our Ballet Master. He thinks it makes things difficult.”

“Do you think it does?”

Clarissa smiled and hummed. “It appears so.”

“Do you think Floriano was capable of suicide?”

She looked at the ground. “Yes.”

“Did he ever talk about killing himself?”

“Once or twice he said he’d rather be dead than live without me.” Clarissa held her chin up.

“Did you threaten to leave him?”

“No, but he was insanely jealous of anyone who paid attention to me.”

Maile thought about the way Edward gazed at her during practice. “Anyone in particular that may have driven him over the edge?”

Clarissa nodded. “There’s this other guy I date.”

“Before Floriano?”

“Before…during…and even last night.” Maile noticed her voice changed to that of a schoolgirl as she swirled one toe across the gravel in the alley as if in trouble with her parents.

“Both men at the same time?” Maile tried not to sound judgmental.

Clarissa bobbed her head. “I wanted to see how jealous I could make Floriano.”

What a little bitch
, Maile thought. “What happened?”

“Floriano heard me ask Patricia for a free production pass for my new boyfriend. As soon as I arrived at his apartment, Floriano grabbed my wrists and held me against the wall and professed his love for me.” Clarissa paused and started to hum. Finally she said, “He held me with my arms above my head and pressed his body against mine and asked if I’d slept with him.”

“Had you?”

“No. I told Floriano I’d try to break it off, but I’d have to see him again to explain.” The ends of her mouth curled up and she hummed.

“And then?”

“I told Floriano we broke up.”

“Had you?’

Clarissa curled head to her shoulder. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I wanted to sleep with him first and I did.”

“And did Floriano find out about that?” Maile thought the girl as crazy as Charles indicated.

“I told him myself and watched while he dropped to his knees. He said I’d be sorry. But I’m not.”

“You’re not sorry Floriano is dead?”

“No. I’m not sorry I slept with Kalama.”

****

Lama tried Maile’s phone number again. He’d sent a text to say he’d like to finish what they began, but didn’t get any response from Maile. He thought he’d better turn it down a notch, so he left a voice message instead to invite her to a neutral place, no strings attached.

Around four o’clock that afternoon, Maile stormed toward the food truck. “We need to talk.” She stomped over to the picnic table and sat down.

Lama walked over and reached for her arm.

She jerked away. “Where did you go last night?”

“I told you a friend had an emergency.”

“Clarissa?”

Lama shook his head. “What? Did you follow me or something?”

“No. She told me.”

“Nothing happened. She’s depressed about Floriano and she’s my friend. I wanted to help her.” He rubbed his chin. “Anyway, it’s not like you and I are exclusive.”

“That’s not even the rub. You know I’m investigating Floriano’s death and you withheld information. If she’s your friend, why wouldn’t you want to help figure out what happened to her partner?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant that I used to date her.”

Maile stared at him and then looked away and shook her head. “I think we better cool it until I sort this out in my head.”

Lama kicked the ground as she walked away.

****

Maile raced back to her Jeep. Once inside, she slammed her palms into the steering wheel. Tears moistened her pant legs and she emitted a low growl.
This case is too hard,
she thought.
It’s
not fair to Floriano’s mother that I can’t figure it out
.

She texted her partners and asked if they could meet with her in the morning to discuss her case. She needed advice.

The team met at nine o’clock the next morning in the conference room of the Miss Demeanor Detective Agency. Cory had coffee ready and a fruit platter and yogurt sat on the buffet. “Thanks for coming in special,” Maile started. She knew River, Cassie and Shay were busy with their own cases, but she didn’t know what else to do. “I’m stuck.”

River asked her to review what she knew so far and Maile told them all the sordid details about Lama’s involvement with someone she considered a person of interest—crazy and probably unreliable, but a person of interest just the same.

“Ouch,” Cassie said.

“Do you have other suspects?” Shay asked.

“There’s the understudy. The receptionist heard him say he’d do whatever it took to become a principal dancer.”

“Did you interview him?” River sipped at her coffee.

“Yeah. When I asked if anyone hated Floriano enough to kill him, he said, “Who didn’t?””

“Did he give you any names?”

“Nope, although he insinuated that Clarissa was capable. He considers her to be pretty crazy.” Maile sucked in her breath. “And then there’s the Ballet Master and the receptionist and…and I suppose…even Lama.”

“What does your gut tell you?” Shay asked.

“That’s just it. I just feel sick to my stomach. I feel as though I’m failing Mrs. Fernandez-Garcia. I promised I’d call her and let her know my progress today. I have no idea what to say to her.”

Cassie offered, “How about the truth? Tell her you are still working to gather the information.”

The women talked and came up with a plan that they would all read Maile’s notes and offer next steps. They agreed to meet again the next morning.

Maile spent the day at the agency and reviewed all her notes. She kept coming back to the Bible verse. She wondered what Mrs. Fernandez-Garcia saw in that verse besides the fact that it talked about poison. She needed to call her anyway.

Floriano’s mother answered on the first ring. “Mrs. Fernandez-Garcia, it’s Maile Kuhiwinui.”

“Have you found my son’s killer?”

“Not yet. I’m still gathering information. I wanted to ask you about the Bible verse again. What do you think Floriano was trying to tell us exactly? ”

Floriano’s mother recited, ““They tasted of the pottage and death was in the pot.” The poison was in his food.”

Maile’s hands shook. “Thank you. I’ll stay in touch.”

She barely made it to the bathroom before she vomited. The bile lingered in her throat the rest of the afternoon while she berated herself for her involvement with Lama. She should have stopped seeing him as soon as she knew he was involved with the ballet folks.

How could she have missed the clue about the poison food? She’d only concentrated on the poison part and assumed Floriano’s prescription drug had been forced down his throat by the killer. Given her discovery this morning that there were not enough pills left to cause an overdose, she wondered if digitalis presented in any other forms.

Now it looked as if she’d ignored some compelling facts. She tried to put the pieces together—Floriano and Clarissa were lovers. Lama was also Clarissa’s lover, and maybe a very jealous lover. Floriano ate Lama’s food every day. Floriano left a clue that he’d eaten poison in his food.

But, how would Lama get digitalis? Maile looked up digitalis and found it occurs naturally in foxglove.

She stared at the computer screen. Foxglove has purple flowers and all the parts of the plant are poisonous. Lama said he liked purples and pinks when they talked about his flower garden. The images of the dried stalks on her computer looked just like the ones in Lama’s flowerbed and the ground plant parts looked just like the ones in the plastic bag under the chair in his living room.