Choreographed Crime (Miss Demeanor 3) (5 page)

Chapter Ten

That bitch asks too many questions. If she can’t leave well enough alone, she might find herself as dead as Floriano.

My perfect crime is unraveling. At this point, I’m sure I’m on the suspect list.

The only solution is to kill her. If I can kill a man, it should be no problem to kill a woman. But, I’d better do it soon. She’s probably already shared her information with her partners at the agency. The card she gave me says the partners founded The Miss Demeanor Detective Agency in 2015, so they are a bunch of newbies and no match for me.

The trick to killing Miss Kuhiwinui is to make it look like someone else is responsible. First, I need to cast blame for Floriano’s death on someone else and then follow up with the bitch’s death and point in the same direction.

Should I cast blame on Kalama? After all, his food was the last food Floriano ate. He’s a dear man, but expendable.

The most important thing is to protect the prima ballerina at all costs. She is too fragile to take care of herself. No one should suspect her of any wrongdoing. She’s too brilliant on the stage to lose.

And she is finally indicating her interest in me. Just today her eyes lingered longer than normal when we danced. I knew if I took my time, she would come around to me and just me. I don’t need anyone else as long as I have Clarissa to myself.

The keycard should have been mine sooner and I could have done the deed long ago. It took me a full year after Floriano arrived to realize he would be impossible to work with. And yet, as principal, he would be nearly impossible to get rid of.

The keycard feels good in my hands. I turn it over and over and rub the plastic to remind me of my success. It’s my little trophy.

I wonder what trophy I should keep from the detective? Perhaps a lock of her shiny black hair.

Chapter Eleven

Maile felt numb. She tried to think rationally about all the evidence, but couldn’t ignore the compelling facts stacked up against Lama. Her mind couldn’t go there. He didn’t feel like a killer when he kissed or held her. He didn’t have any of the traits of a killer, did he? Her gut told her Lama couldn’t be a killer. The evidence told her he could.

She couldn’t go to the police with her suspicions. She couldn’t even go to her partners. She needed to systematically eliminate the other suspects before she could deal with the thought that she might be dating a murderer.

In the meantime, she had to stay clear of Lama so she could concentrate on clearing him.

She drove home, stood in the shower and let the water beat on the back of her neck. After she cried herself out, she made a plan to test her theory that Lama couldn’t be the killer.

Back at the ballet studio, Maile checked in with Patricia at the reception desk. She asked to reserve an interview room and when Patricia shifted the calendar on her desk, a keycard fell to the floor—a navy blue card with a mountain range in the background. Patricia bent to pick it up.

Maile stared at the card. “Where did you get that?”

Patricia turned the card over in her hands. “The night custodian brought it to me this morning. He found it in the men’s locker room and thought someone might come to claim it.” Patricia chuckled. “I’m also the lost and found.”

“The men’s locker room? You’re sure?”

“That’s what he told me.”

“I think it may be a piece of evidence. Do you mind if I borrow it for an hour or so?”

“Go ahead. No one else claimed it anyway.”

Maile jogged back to her Jeep and drove to Floriano’s apartment building. She banged on the building manager’s door.

He answered the door, a scowl on his face. “What d’ya want now, lady?”

She held up the keycard. “Does this look familiar?”

“Yeah. Looks like one of ours.”

“May I try it in the back entrance?”

“Be my guest.” He shut the door.

Maile walked around to the back of the building and slipped the keycard into the code reader. The sound of the click filled her with relief.

She forced her logical brain to take over. This was the first piece of concrete evidence that pointed away from Lama.

Maile rushed back to the Seattle Ballet and questioned Patricia again.

“Who uses the locker room?”

“All of the males. It’s not locked.”

“Do you know who might have used it yesterday?”

“Not exactly. Any male in the building could have gone in there.”

“Is the custodian still here? I’d like to talk to him.”

Patricia shook her head. “I could call him and ask if he’s willing to talk to you, though.”

Maile nodded.

The custodian confirmed he found a blue keycard on the floor of the men’s locker room.

“Would you describe where you found it? Where in the locker room?”

“In front of the lockers near the showers.”

Maile hung up and asked Patricia to show her the locker room. Patricia asked one of the males to clear the room before they stepped inside. Patricia pointed to the bank of six metal lockers at the far end of the room.

Maile stood in front of the lockers and noted the names—both Edward and Charles had their names on a locker. She smiled for the first time that day and continued her probe.

She questioned Patricia about how often the custodians cleaned the building and Patricia said seven nights a week. “Can anyone enter from another door?”

“No. The back exit door locks automatically. No one has keys for that door.”

“Who locked up the building the night Floriano died?”

“I did. I waited for Edward and we left at the same time.” Patricia scoffed. “I wait for him every night.”

“Who has keys?”

“Edward, myself, and the night custodians.”

“Is there a night watchman?”

“No. We’ve never seen the need for one.”

“Have you noticed anyone out of the ordinary in the building?”

“I haven’t.”

Maile pulled out her phone and brought up the photo she’d taken of Lama with the beef stew. “Do you recognize this man?”

“No. I’ve never seen him before.”

“Thank you.”

Maile sat on a bench in the lobby and reviewed what she knew. It was highly likely that the killer was a male from the ballet. Whoever possessed the keycard probably used it to gain access to Floriano’s building. There had not been a struggle, so it seemed Floriano expected whoever came that night. If she could figure out who had access to digitalis, she’d have her murderer.

Chapter Twelve

Maile walked across the tiled lobby and stood in front of practice room three. Charles and Clarissa moved as one on the floor—their bodies in perfect sync until it came to the lift. When Charles lost his step while holding Clarissa, she stiffened and stepped away from him. She faced the men with a smirk on her face and seemed to enjoy the obvious reprimand Charles received from Edward.

Edward gestured to Clarissa and she draped her pink sweater over her shoulders and walked into the lobby.

Maile had an idea.

“Clarissa?” Maile approached her with the keycard grasped in her hand.

“Where did you get that?” Clarissa seemed confused.

Maile responded, “From a friend.”

“It looks like Floriano’s.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Did he give it to you?”

“No.”

“He took it from me when he was angry about Kalama. He said he’d find another lover to give it to.”

“Will you help me to find that person, Clarissa? I think there’s a good chance that whoever he gave the keycard to is the one who killed him.”

Clarissa nodded. “What can I do?”

“Hold on just a minute. I’d like to make a call and then we’ll try my plan.”

Maile phoned River and asked for her new friend Police Detective Gage Hamlin’s phone number. River texted his cell number.

It didn’t take long for Maile to convince Detective Hamlin of the need for a search warrant for the Seattle Ballet building.

Maile walked Clarissa to a corner of the lobby and told her what she had in mind.

A few minutes later, Edward came to the doorway and called Clarissa back into the practice room. She did what Maile instructed her to do—she walked all the way across the room before she held up the keycard where both Charles and Edward could see it and Maile could see the men’s faces. Charles showed no response, whereas Edward glared at Clarissa and swiped at her hand to get the card.

“Where did you get that?” he demanded.

“From me.” Maile had entered the room apparently without him noticing. “It was on the floor of the men’s locker room, in front of
your
locker.”

He shook his head with such force Maile thought he might break his neck. He lunged at Maile. “Give it to me.”

She dodged him and shouted, “It’s all over, Edward! The police will be here soon with a search warrant.”

Edward straightened his shoulders and positioned his feet, heels together and toes pointed outward. “I did it for you, Clarissa. He stole your spotlight. I figured I brought him into our midst, so I should be the one to take him out. He deserved what he got.” He snickered. “You should have seen him beg at the end, Clarissa. It was really quite amusing.”

Clarissa spat in his face and left the room. Charles followed her.

Edward stood glued to the floor. His glare seared through Maile—a look of pure hatred. She left Edward alone in the room.

Detective Hamlin arrived about fifteen minutes later. Maile filled him in on the events that led to Edward’s confession. She pointed to practice room three. “He’s in there.”

Maile watched as the detective read Edward his rights and bound his wrists together.

Edward left the building with his chin held high.

Maile stayed in the building to assist Detective Hamlin’s partner if he needed her help with the search. In the meantime, she and Clarissa comforted Patricia who repeated through heaving sobs, “How could he do it? He was such a good man.”

When Detective Hamlin’s partner arrived with the search warrant, Maile accompanied him to the locker room where he opened every locker and came up empty. The gold mine of evidence was in the Ballet Master’s office. In Edward’s top desk drawer they discovered a notebook tightly wrapped in black fabric. The first entry dated over two years ago when Edward first saw Floriano on stage in Portland. The last entry, made just last night, detailed why Maile needed to die. She excused herself and ran from the room, her arms wrapped around her stomach.

Clarissa leaned against the wall in the hallway. “I loved them all.”

“I suppose you did,” Maile said, as bile collected in the back of her throat. She brushed past Clarissa and went into the ladies locker room to vomit.

“Maile?” Clarissa touched her shoulder. “You should feel proud of yourself. Floriano deserved justice.”

Maile raised her head from the ceramic toilet bowl. “Thank you, Clarissa.”

She remembered how fragile Clarissa was. “I’m sure this has been a shock for you. Is there a friend I can call to stay with you tonight?”

“I’m going home with Patricia. She needs someone with her. She worshipped Edward.” Maile gave Clarissa a pat on her cheek.

After Maile felt she’d done everything she needed to do in the building, she plucked her phone from her purse and called Mrs. Fernandez-Garcia. “Edward Berwin confessed to killing Floriano. He’s just been arrested.”

The only words she heard from Floriano’s mother sounded like prayers.

Then, she texted River, Cassie, Shay and Cory and simply typed, “Case solved.”

Her last task for the day was a trip to a two-story house in Ballard.

Chapter Thirteen

Lama tried not to think about Maile. He’d pick up his phone to call, and set it back down, only to pick it up again. Queen Lili sat on his lap and protested his sudden moves. Lama stood up, grabbed a Longboard from the fridge and put on an Israel Kamakawiwo’ole CD to try to soothe his nerves.

His phone chimed the ringtone for Clarissa. He had to answer. She was still his friend, wasn’t she? And if he was anything, he was a good friend.

“Kalama, Edward did it.” He barely heard her.

“Did what?”

“He killed Floriano. The police just took him away.”

“Oh Clarissa. Are you okay?”

“I am. I’m going home with our receptionist. I’ll check in later.”

Lama pushed the red button and tried to digest the information Clarissa just shared. He knew they were all suspects—Edward, Charlie, Clarissa and himself—but he’d hoped Maile would find a stranger responsible.

A rap on the front door broke Lama’s reverie. He opened the door and Maile fell into his arms.

“He planned to kill me,” she sobbed. “I was next.”

Lama pulled her into the house and held her until her crying eased. “It’s okay now, baby. You’re safe.”

“I’m sorry I walked away from you yesterday. I felt confused and couldn’t think straight.”

Lama kissed her forehead. “You had a job to do. A messy job, but you figured it out.”

“Yeah, and almost got killed in the process.”

“I’m glad you’re safe. Don’t think about that now.” He held her until she fell asleep in his arms.

The next morning, Maile met with her partners at The Miss Demeanor Detective Agency. Detective Hamlin joined them in the conference room. River jerked her head up from her coffee and looked quizzically at him. Maile shook his hand and thanked him for coming.

“I got a call at about four this morning,” Detective Hamlin started. “Edward Berwin is dead. Hung himself with his sheet. He was one very sick bastard.”

Maile started to hyperventilate and her hands shook.

“He’ll never be able to hurt you, Maile,” Detective Hamlin said.

“What do you mean, hurt her?” River laid her hand on his arm.

“He planned to kill her. It was the last entry in his notebook.”

“Oh my God!” River gasped. The four women jumped from their chairs and wrapped their arms around Maile in a group hug.

“Oh, honey,” Shay said.

“I’m so glad you’re safe.” Cassie hugged harder.

Cory wiped tears from her face. “You can’t get in a situation like that again, sweetie. Who would I play Scrabble with?”

Maile’s body shook like she was cold. “It’s so unnerving to know someone planned to kill me.”

“Of course it is, sweetie,” River said.

Maile cried. “I did a lot wrong in this case and let my personal involvement with Lama shadow my research.”

“You did a lot right in the case, too. Don’t forget that,” Detective Hamlin said. “You managed to find a killer after the police department closed the case.”

River shook her head. “We need to focus on how to keep safe.”

Shay said, “I carry a gun whenever I’m on a case.”

“Any other suggestions, Gage?” River asked.

“There’s a self-defense class that starts next week. Most of the rookies in the police department will attend, but it’s not a private class. I’ll send the information to you.”

“I think we should all go,” Cory said.

“One more thing.” Gage looked at Maile. “In his notebook, Berwin detailed the night he killed Garcia. He added dried foxglove to Garcia’s food. Evidently the plant is natural digitalis and deadly. Berwin also claims Garcia invited him into his bed. Go figure.”

“Will the press hear all the details? I don’t want Mrs. Fernandez-Garcia to know about the bed partner if we can keep it from her. She’s suffered enough.”

They all agreed to keep that detail to themselves.

Cory responded to a voice from the reception area. When she came back to the conference room she handed a package to Maile. “The courier says it’s from Mrs. Fernandez-Garcia.”

Maile opened the box and found a Bible with all the ribbons marking the same page. She opened the book to Ephesians. A little yellow sticky note pointed to verse 1:16. “I do not cease to give thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers.” Tears streamed down Maile’s cheeks again as she passed the Bible to Cory who read the verse aloud.

“Wow,” River said. “See what you did for that mother? You brought her peace.”

Maile stood and stretched. She needed, more than anything, to see Lama. “I could sure use some Hawaiian comfort food right now. Who’s game?” She looked directly at Cory.

“Oh, what the hell?” Cory followed her out the front door.

Chapter Fourteen

Maile woke to the smell of fried Spam. She slipped on her panties and one of Lama’s aloha shirts and padded into the kitchenette. Lama turned from the stove and bent to kiss her.

“Smells good.” She poured a cup of coffee and set the table.

“Spam or
kalua
pork?”

“Some of each. I’m starved.” Maile felt better than she had in the three months since the murder case closed. It felt like her new life finally made sense. River, Cassie, Shay and Cory were always available to her if she needed to talk. Thankfully, no more murder cases presented themselves. She knew she’d need to take that step eventually to keep up her responsibilities to her partners, but for now she gratefully investigated the fraud, adultery and missing persons’ cases.

Lama helped her the most. He’d been patient while she went through counseling and sorted out her fear of death.

Maile looked at Lama at the stove as he cooked food for them. “Will you cook for my Auntie Lei and my cousins when they come to visit?”

“You know I will.” Lama placed a plate of fried eggs, rice, Spam and
kalua
pork in front of her.

She took several bites, moaning her approval.

Queen Lili strolled up to the table with a little baggie of dried plants. Lama reached down and retrieved the baggie. “Where did you find your catnip? I thought I’d looked everywhere.”

He transferred some catnip into a cloth pouch and tossed it to the floor.

Maile tried to suppress a grin.

“What?” he asked her.

“You’re just so tender with Queen Lili.”

“I told you she’s treated like royalty.”

Lama sat back down and leaned across the table and held Maile’s hand. “How did you sleep?”

“Pretty good. No nightmares. It helps to know you’re beside me.”

“That’s good.” Lama finished his plate of food.

Maile asked if Lama had time to take her for a drive before work.

“I’ll make time.”

Maile dressed in wool slacks, new suede boots and a wool blazer and followed Lama out into the crisp morning air. She’d asked him to take her to the Kerry Park lookout. She’d only been there at night and wanted to see the view in daylight.

As they crossed the familiar Ballard Bridge, Maile laid her hand on Lama’s. They’d crossed this bridge dozens of times, but this time it felt different. She felt comfortable in her own skin.

Lama wove the Mustang along the route to Highland Drive. He parked along the street and walked hand in hand with Maile. Maile saw the top of the Space Needle, the downtown skyline and the magnificent snow-capped Mt. Rainier.

She squeezed Lama’s hand. “It’s stunning.”

Maile took out her cell phone, asked Lama to smile and snapped a selfie of them with the fabulous view in the background. She attached the photo to a text to her Auntie Lei back in Hawai’i. “Finally feels like home.”