I'm Kona Love You Forever (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series Book 6) (22 page)

A rheumy eye appeared in the tiny window in the door. Then the door opened and there stood Charlene
. She looked even scarier than she had on Tuesday night, if that was possible. She’d draped a dark purple cape over a black sack dress, and her hair looked like an electrician’s apprentice who’d just learned, first-hand, why you should cut the power before poking around in a light socket.

“Yes,” she said, taking in the full measure of Lili’s youthful innocence. If I believed in such things
, I’d have said Charlene looked like a killer bee about to suck the spiritual nectar from an unsuspecting blossom.

Then she saw me and
glared. “It’s you. Whatever you want, I don’t have it. You need to leave.”

“Look, I’m sorry about the way we left things the other night. I’ve come to apologize, but if you aren’t willing to accept my apology,
at least please don’t take it out on her.”

Charlene
dismissed me with her eyes and turned her attention to Lili. “What’s your name, love?”

“
Lili’uokalani. After our queen,” said Lili.

“And your last name?” Charlene said.

Lili sighed. “That’s what I’m here about.”

Charlene glared at me. “I will welcome this lovely young woman into my home. You can wait out here.” She flicked a finger in the direction of an enormous orange tabby curled up on the only chair on the porch. “
Don’t mess with Charlie,” she said. “He bites.”

I waited outside for close to ten minutes before Lili reappeared.

“Well,” I said. “How’d it go?”

“She was really nice. She told me she thinks my mo
m was just given the wrong birth certificate when they came to get me.”

“Okay, but did she give you any
clue of where we might find the correct one?”

“She said
government paperwork doesn’t matter. She told me she’d like me to come in for a mystical session with her and she’d help me spiritually locate my birth parents. She said that’s what’s important. Also, she said since her name was on the old paperwork, she’d be happy to help. Free of charge.”

“But no birth certificate?”

“No, but who cares? Since we’ve already put the wedding off until after I’m eighteen I don’t need one. You said after I’m eighteen I could use my driver’s license. I don’t care about a piece of paper; I want to know who my birth parents are.”

“But without a birth certificate you’ll never be able to get a passport.
Or a top security clearance. Or be president.”

She laughed. “Like anyone
on the mainland thinks Hawaii birth certificates are for real anyway. And besides, why would I need a passport? I don’t want to go anyplace where I’d need one.”

We got in the car and I could’ve sworn I saw creepy Charlene peering out at us as I pulled away. I wish Farrah would’ve been able to stick around for a while after the botched proposal. She was the queen of woo-woo.
If she could get within five feet of Charlene Cooper, I was certain she’d be able to tell me exactly why the woman made me so uneasy.

***

I dropped Lili off at the coffee farm and drove back out to Malia Byer’s house. By now, the police tape had been taken down, but the place still exuded a disturbing air. As if Malia’s soul was lingering in the garage, waiting for someone to hear her side of the story. I wondered why David hadn’t chosen to stay there, but then figured the memories were probably too painful.

I went across the street and tapped on
Edie Sanders’ door. She appeared in seconds, as if monitoring in-coming gossip was her highest priority.

“I knew you’d be back,” she said. “I saw you talk
in’ to Gary. What’d that no-count loser have to say for himself?”

“He
wasn’t very chatty,” I said. “But I see what you mean about the animosity. He actually said, ‘good riddance.’ I was shocked, to say the least. I mean, if he was involved in Malia’s death, wouldn’t he realize how stupid that was?”

“Well, in Gary’s case,
callin’ him stupid is a compliment,” she said. “That dude doesn’t have the brains of a rabid bat.”

I told her about seeing the respirator.

“Oh, yeah. Well, when he’s of a mind to do a lick of work he restores old cars. I seen him wearing that thing while he paints ‘em. He looks like an alien from outer space.”

“But
he could’ve also used it in Malia’s garage,” I said. “To protect him from breathing in the carbon monoxide.”

“Huh. Well, I wouldn’t put it past him.
You know, things got a lot worse between Malia and Gary after Pono moved out.”

“
Did Pono and Gary get along okay?” I said.

“Oh, honey. Those two
were like brothers in arms. I think it had more to do with Malia’s attitude toward Gary than Pono actually liking him. It was one of them triangle things, ya know? Three’s a crowd, so the two gang up on the other one. I believe Pono used to hang out at Gary’s just to spite her. He knew she’d rather set herself on fire than go past those dogs of his to get Pono to come home and do chores.”

“Have you heard anything about the autopsy results?” I said. In any normal situation it would be ridiculous for me to ask a civilian if she had advance knowledge of informati
on clearly protected by not only the federal HIPAA Privacy Rule, but also by local police protocols and plain common decency. But I had a feeling Edie didn’t pay no mind to such folderol.

“
Not yet,” she said. “But I’ve got a girlfriend who works at the hospital. She works in the kitchen, but she’s got ears like a…I don’t know…maybe an elephant? They got real good ears, don’t they? They’re big anyway.” She stopped, seeming to ponder whether elephants were known for their acute hearing.

“I think you’re right. Elephants can hear for miles
around,” I said. I had no idea if that was bogus or not, but I was eager for her to continue.

“Anyway, she
knows pretty much everything that goes on up there. And if she doesn’t, she’ll know someone who does.”

“Could you call her?
” I said. “It would really be interesting to know the facts, don’t you think?”

She seemed to ponder my request.
“I s’pose. But everyone knows how Malia died. I mean, all that smoke comin’ out of the tailpipe and her sitting in there with the door closed.”

“But you
also raised the possibility that Gary might have been involved. Maybe the autopsy shows she was drugged or tied up or something. Her memorial service is next week. Don’t you think her family deserves to know what the coroner found?” 

“
I don’t know. Maybe it would just rile ‘em up more.”

“True
,” I said. “But put yourself in their place. What’s worse, thinking your mother killed herself or that she was an innocent crime victim?”

“Do
n’t neither one sound good to me,” she said.

“No, but people agonize over a suicide. They feel guilty they didn’t see it coming and they’re angry
at the dead person for what they’ve done. There’s a lot of blaming the victim with suicide.”

“
Maybe so,” she said. “If there was anything fishy, they should probably be told.”

“And given how
bureaucracy works, we both know the official results won’t be available for weeks.”

“
True.” She invited me in while she made the call. Her friend didn’t answer so she left a message to call back.

“I don’t want to keep bugging you,” I said. “Would you mind giving me your friend’s name and address? I’d like to
ask her a few questions in person.”

Edie eyed me
as if I’d requested her social security number and mother’s maiden name. For her, gossip was the currency she dealt in and insider information the gold standard that backed it up. There was no way she’d hand over the keys to her personal Fort Knox.

“Tell you what,” she said. “You give me your phone number and when Nancy calls back, we’ll both go
talk to her. She’s kinda like what you’d call a ‘private person.’ She probably wouldn’t take kindly to a complete stranger showin’ up at her door.”

Edie called me at nine-fifteen on Friday night.

“I got the call,” she said in a hushed voice. “I’m ten-four to go to Nancy’s at nine tomorrow morning. You still want to tag along?”

I started to remind her I was the one with the questions, but then backed off.

“Sure. If you don’t mind,” I said.

“No problem. Pick me up at ten to nine. And don’t be late.”

C
HAPTER 25

Nancy Clevinger lived in a tidy plantation-style house up the hill from Edie’s. The yard consisted of two symmetrical squares of closely-cropped lawn dissected by a neatly painted sidewalk leading to the front porch. Along each edge of the sidewalk was a knee-high hedge of croton bushes, those shrubs with rubbery leaves in circus colors—green, yellow, red and orange. Edie had warned me I might have to wait outside if her friend expressed any concerns about spilling work secrets in my presence.

“Like I told you,” Edie said
as we came up the sidewalk. “She might not want to say much. She’s doesn’t know you like she knows me.”

I nodded.

“
Aloha
,” said Nancy as she opened the door. She was a petite, smiling woman who looked at least seventy-five. I was surprised a woman her age was still working.

The two women hugged. I extended my hand when Edie introduced me.

“Oh my,” Nancy said. “We don’t stand on formality here.” She gave me a quick hug and patted my hand. “Come on in. I’ve made us a fresh pot of coffee.”

“You’re not working today?” I said.

“It’s Saturday,” Edie said in a schoolmarm voice. She shot me a bit of stink eye as if to put me on notice she’d be the one asking the questions.

“That’s
right, it’s the weekend,” I said. “But hospitals run twenty-four seven. Isn’t that true, Nancy?” I wanted Edie to know I wasn’t about to be cowed by the neighborhood chinwag.

“Well, I’m management,” said Nancy. “Took me nearly forty-four years, but once they figured out I wasn’t leaving until I got the good pension, they had to give it to me.”

“You manage the hospital kitchen?” I said.

Edie’s face had gone wooden, as if she was having serious second-thoughts about allowing me to come
along with her on this mission.

“Yes, it’s called
the ‘Department of Nutrition Management’ but everything’s got a silly name up there. They call the janitors ‘Sanitation and Asepsis Engineers.’ Most of ‘em had to look up the word ‘asepsis’ when they first called them that. The powers-that-be thought they’d get away with giving everyone an important-sounding job title instead of a raise. Believe me, it didn’t work.”

She gestured for us to take a seat in the living room while she brought
out the coffee. The room had polished hardwood floors, a small sofa, and two rattan arm-chairs with Hawaiian print cushions. A three-foot rattan coffee table with an orchid blossom floating in a glass bowl anchored the grouping, like a focal point we could all agree on. I had a moment of
déjà vu
as I looked around the interior. Then I remembered. This house had a nearly twin sister on Dole Park, in Lana’i City. I wondered how many of these five-room eight-hundred square foot bungalows had been built in Hawaii. Thousands? Maybe ten-thousand? You can find them on every major island in the state.

Nancy came in balancing a tray with a hot-pot, three mugs,
a sugar bowl, and a cream pitcher. She carefully laid out a napkin and spoon in front of us as if performing a Japanese tea ceremony. No one spoke.

We each got busy doctoring up
our coffee to our personal taste and then sat back. I waited for Nancy to take a sip before launching in.

“Edie says you may be able to get information about the results of Malia Byers’ autopsy,” I said.
“The family was told she committed suicide, but Edie thinks otherwise.”

Edie gaped at me as if I’d
just loudly passed wind and then pinned it on her. I smiled, seemingly oblivious to her annoyance.

“Ah
,” said Nancy. “Yes, I heard they brought in the coroner from O’ahu to work on that.”

“Do you know if
they’ve finished?” I said.

“I
don’t, but I’m friends with someone who would know.”

I took another sip of coffee, as if tacitly agreeing to let Nancy set the pace of how things would proceed
from there.

Edie’s eyes shifted from me to Nancy and then back again. After a few seconds of silence,
Edie said, “Who?”

“I’d rather not
give the name. But it’s someone who has first-hand knowledge of what comes out of the pathology department.”

Edie looked miffed, as if peeved Nancy had been forthcoming with me but had
just stiff-armed her.