Maui Widow Waltz (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series) (18 page)

“You mean my baby brother, Tommy.”

“Yeah. You think he’ll give me a
job?”

“Why you think you need a job? You
doing your wedding thing.”

“Not anymore. Your brother James’s
new client was the only wedding I had this month. Thanks to the rain, I’m
pretty much out of money. Tank Sherman’s buying out my business—but he’s not
giving me much.”

“Tank? Like anyone would want that
weird dude fixing their wedding.”

“He’s buying the Gadda-da-Vida
store, too.”

“No lie? He’s gonna run the store?
Big dude like that’ll eat up all the profits.”

I figured my news about Tank had
evened us up on the gossip score.

“So, can you help me get a job at
Tommy’s?”

“What you want to do there?”

“Serving. Waitress, hostess,
whatever.”

“You got a coconut bra and a grass
skirt?”

I slumped my shoulders and nodded.

“Okay, no worries. I’ll give him a
call. You smart you’ll wear somethin’ sexy to the interview. Oh, and don’t tell
him about your black belt. He might think you wanna bounce.”

Truth was, I’d rather work as a
bouncer. But without tips, there’d be no way I could make ends meet.

“
Mahalo
, Sifu.”

“
Da kine
, Pali. Oh, and if I
hear more from James about your girl, I’ll let you know.”

I looked longingly into the
practice room. Working out was my go-to antidote to nervous tension and every
hour I’d been getting more concerned about Hatch’s whereabouts.

First Brad, then Kevin, and now
Hatch. Everybody knows bad luck always comes in threes.

CHAPTER 22

M
y
cell phone rang as I jogged up Baldwin. I’d promised Farrah we’d leave for home
by two and it was already a quarter after. She’d probably had enough of faking
a smile and delivering Happy Valentine’s greetings while still reeling from the
shock of Kevin’s death.

“Aloha,” I sang into my
phone—trying to hide the huffing and puffing.

“Is this Pali Moon?” The caller’s
voice was a low growl interspersed with static.

“Yes, this is Pali.” I slowed to a
stop.

“Todd Barker here.”

“Oh, yes. What can I do for you?”

“Well, for starters, you can get
yourself out to the airport.”

“Which airport?” I had an uneasy
feeling I wasn’t going to like the answer.

“I’m here in Maui. At the Katahoochie
Airport, or whatever the hell it’s called. I’d catch a cab, but these oily
drivers look like they’ll give me the scenic tour and then charge me a hundred
bucks for the pleasure. I’ll give you fifty if you’ll take me to my hotel,
pronto.”

I was tempted to beg off and tell
him to take his chances with a cab, but I had questions and he had answers. And
besides, fifty bucks was more than I’d probably ever shake out of Marv. I told
Barker I’d be there in fifteen minutes, then I called Farrah and asked if she
could hold on for another hour.

I pulled into the white zone in
front of baggage claim. I was fretting over how I’d identify a man I could only
recognize by voice when I caught sight of a guy in a rumpled tucked-in white
dress shirt, charcoal grey slacks, and black leather lace-up shoes. More than
likely he’d taken off a necktie on the flight over. He’d slung his suit jacket
over his shoulder and clutched an expensive-looking aluminum briefcase in one
hand while wheeling a tiny black roller bag with the other. His medium brown
hair was cut in the conservative style popular with politicians and news
anchors. The guy wasn’t bad looking, just absurdly out of place on a tropical
island where all pants are khaki, and where tucking in your shirt is like setting
your hair on fire—it really makes you stand out in a crowd.

I pulled to the curb and got out.

“Todd?” I said, coming up to him.
He wore a forlorn expression and was nervously running a hand through his hair.

“Miss Moon?”

“Please, call me Pali. Is this your
only luggage?”

“Yeah. With any luck I won’t be
sticking around long.” He scowled at the milling throng of vacationers as if
he’d been abducted by aliens.

We walked back to the Geo, which
was garnering major stink eye from the rent-a-cop hired to keep people from
doing what I’d done—parking in the loading zone. Being the considerate
chauffeuress, I reached in front of Todd and wrestled the passenger door open.
Then I leaned in and swiped the thin film of red dust from the seat. He got in
and I put his suitcase on the back seat next to Lisa Marie’s origami crane
keepsake.  The beautifully-framed picture of lotus flowers and koi fish
made from the tiny golden cranes offered a sad testament to the events of the
past couple of days.

I didn’t have money to pay the
framer and I’d asked if he wanted to keep the artwork until I could pay, but
he’d declined. One more item on an already jam-packed list of mounting
debts. 

“Miss Moon?” Barker snapped.

I jerked my head up realizing I’d
been lost in thought. The rent-a-cop was frantically blowing his whistle and
waving his arms. Outrage and lack of oxygen had colored his face a brilliant
fuchsia. 

“Sorry.” I hustled around to the
driver door.

“Is today some kind of holiday over
here?” Barker said as we pulled into traffic. “I didn’t see a single man
wearing a decent suit and tie. Hell, I didn’t see anybody even wearing
socks
.”

Todd Barker didn’t stop talking
during the entire trip to his posh hotel in Wailea. He bounced from subject to
subject—crying babies on the plane; Hawaii’s ridiculous agricultural inspection
form; the visitor’s bureau asking for personal information; he even touched on
the lack of decent toilet paper in the airplane restroom. As we left Kihei,
heading south, he finally got around to his company losing its two key
executives. Everything he knew about Kevin McGillvary’s death had come second
or third hand so he only had the basic facts.

 “I heard Kevin was murdered.
It wasn’t from natural causes.” He said it more like a question than a statement.

I knew better than to weigh in with
my opinion. “It appears it wasn’t an accident, but they haven’t released the
final autopsy report.”

 “Do you have any idea what
this is doing to DigiSystems? We’re in a precarious position. For months we’ve
been dealing with takeover rumors. And now we’ve lost both our founding members
in less than two weeks. With Sanders and McGillvary gone, the share price is
going to run off a damn cliff. Do you hear what I’m saying?”

Hearing him was no problem. When we
stopped at Kilohana Drive—the intersection where you can turn into Maui
Meadows—two local women in the car next to us looked over and stared. They most
likely assumed they were witnessing a domestic dispute.

“And that asshole Marv Prescott.
Acting all innocent. That guy’s behind this, believe you me. He called me
yesterday, barely able to keep from laughing. I tried to warn Brad against
taking that sonofabitch’s money, but would he listen? No-o-o.”

“Marv told me he was just an angel
investor during the start-up.”

“Bullshit!” Barker shrieked. His
voice was fast approaching a pitch only dogs can hear. “Marv Prescott’s been
called a lot of things, but ‘angel’ sure as hell isn’t one of them. He’s a
manipulating self-serving bastard, and his fingerprints are all over this.”

Todd blew out a sharp breath and
dropped his tone a notch. “Don’t you find it a bit too convenient that
DigiSystems’ two key stakeholders died right under his nose three thousand
miles from home? That’s why I came over here.”

“You think Marv killed Brad and
Kevin?”

“I don’t know what to think. What I
know
—as CFO for the company—is who stands to profit now that they’re
dead.”

A few beats went by before it
dawned on me he was waiting for me to answer. “Would that be Marv Prescott?”

“Indirectly, yes. But he’s too
smart to be so obvious. He’s handed his stake over to that dimwit daughter of
his—Lisa Marie.”

I was about to ask him to
elaborate, but we’d arrived at the portico of the Royal Crown Kamehameha Resort
and three valets had already dashed over to help. It appeared they were
demonstrating first-rate customer service skills in moving so quickly, but I
knew better. The faster they got my trashed green Geo out of their
squeaky-clean tiled entryway, the better.

One valet opened Todd’s door while
a second lunged for the rear door to unload his meager luggage. I didn’t get
out. No sense creating confusion that we were a couple, and besides, my ears
were nearly bleeding. I waited in blessed silence while Barker chatted briefly
with the head bellman. He tipped the guy and then came around to my driver’s
window and leaned in.

 “Thanks for your kind offer
to pick me up,” he said. I wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not, but
when he extended a fan of three bills showing a twenty on top, I didn’t care. I
plucked the money from him and quickly tucked it in my bag.

 “In Hawaiian, we say
mahalo
for thank you,” I said. “You’ll hear that a lot over here.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” The snide had
returned to his voice. “All these natives with their hand out.  
‘Hollow’—sounds like a pretty good description of what my wallet’s gonna look
like in a few days.” He stepped back from the car and gestured at me as if
waving off an annoying panhandler.

The Pi’ilani Highway back to the Mokulele
turnoff was wide open so I made good time getting back to Pa’ia.

“Girl, I was about to give up on
you,” said Farrah when I banged through the front door. The bell tinkled, and I
got a catch in my throat as I realized that as of tomorrow even that damn bell
would belong to Tank Sherman.

I peered into the glass-fronted
refrigerator case. Not a single flower remained, just three rows of white
plastic buckets. In one bucket a lone pink petal floated in green-tinged water.

“You hear anything from Hatch?” she
asked.

“Not a word.” I tried to keep the
anxiety out of my voice since Farrah’s anguish over Kevin was still raw.

“Maybe you should go next door and
check for messages.”

“Nah, I checked an hour ago.”

“You never know. A lot can happen
in an hour.”

I put the key in my shop door and
was surprised when it turned without resistance. Not locked. In my snit over
Hatch I’d probably forgotten to lock up before going down to talk to Sifu Doug.
But two steps in, the scent hit me like a tsunami.

Lavender.

A dozen lavender candles had been
placed around the room, some burning, some still wrapped in cellophane. A
lavender wreath the size of a spare tire hung on the divider wall; and two
dainty white pillows embroidered with a lavender sprig hugged each of the arms
of my tattered green sofa. An enormous basket festooned with a glossy violet
bow was perched on my desk. In it was an assortment of fancy bath products.

Hatch hobbled out through the bead
curtain and leaned on his crutch.

“You like it?”

“I don’t know what to say. It’s
beautiful. Rather over-the-top, but beautiful.”

“It doesn’t upset you?”

“Not at all, it’s lovely.”

“Guess what?” He hopped over to the
wreath and carefully lifted it from the nail in the wall. “Check it out. I made
this—all by myself. Up at the lavender farm in Kula.”

“It looks good. You did a great
job.”

“So, will you be my Valentine?” he
said.

“I guess.”

He thumped toward me. Then he
leaned on his crutch and reached out to lift my chin.

“What’s the matter?” he said.

“Nothing.”

He cocked his head, like a
perplexed dog when the chew toy suddenly disappears into a pocket.

“C’mon. You may think I’m just a
dumb smoke eater, but for seven years my life hinged on sizing people up.
Something’s wrong. What is it?”

“I didn’t hear you come in last night,”
I was going for a nonchalant tone, but it came out kind of choked up.

“That’s because I didn’t come home.
I stayed with a friend.”

“Okay, fine. None of my business.”
I started blowing out candles.

“What’s going on? Is there a house
curfew you failed to mention? Steve told me he doesn’t come home lots of times
and it’s no big deal.”

“It isn’t. You’re a big boy. It’s
just that I need to get going. I promised Farrah I’d get her back up to the
house more than an hour ago.”  

“You’re not treating me like a big
boy.”

“I already told you—I’m late. I
appreciate your Valentine’s Day gifts, but I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

He hopped over and hung the wreath
back up on the wall. “Fair enough. Can I catch a ride back up the hill with
you?”

“Of course.”

The door squeaked open and Farrah
poked her head in. “Well?” Her smile was back.

“Well, what?” Hatch and I shot back
in unison.

The smile vanished.
   

“I thought I’d be interrupting a
love-fest. But it looks more like a smack-down.”

“We need to get going,” I said,
snatching up my keys.

“Yeah,” said Hatch. “Don’t get in
her way. She’s late and she’s got a lot on her mind.”

CHAPTER 23

I
arrived
home with just enough time to change into tan capris and an earthtone aloha
shirt. It’s my go-to outfit when attending a beach wedding. I look semi-festive
while still blending into the background.

Steve was out front packing his
photography gear into the Jetta.

“I could make excuses if you want
to skip this,” I said.

“No way. If that long lost dude
makes an appearance I’ll have exclusive rights to the photos. Wouldn’t miss
it.”

He offered to drive and I slid into
the passenger seat. The ride down to Olu’olu was quiet, not only because
Steve’s car doesn’t sound like there’s a hive of angry bees under the hood, but
also because we were both lost in thought.

When we pulled inside the gate the
bridesmaid’s black limo was already there. Marv’s Mercedes was parked outside
the garage, and Steve parked his black Jetta where I usually put the Geo.
Seeing three shiny black cars in close proximity made me shiver. In the scheme
of things, weddings and funerals aren’t that dissimilar. Both are life-changing
events; both usually involve flowers, ministers, and music; and both are
expensive ways to pass a few hours with family and friends.  

The funereal mood continued once
we’d gone inside. Josie soundlessly led us to the sunroom to wait for the
minister. I hadn’t told Lisa Marie I’d switched out Farrah, but I wasn’t
worried. If Brad showed up, she’d be so excited she’d overlook it, and if he
didn’t, well, it wouldn’t matter.

The two bridesmaids were perched on
the far sofa, ankles crossed, hands primly clasped.

“Hi, girls,” said Steve.

“
Aloha
, Mr. Rathburn.”

Steve winced at the formal
salutation and sat down in a cushioned wicker armchair. Through the window I
saw Marv on the lanai—pacing—drink in hand.

I nodded to the bridesmaids and
told Steve I’d be right back.

“Josie,” I said coming up to her in
the foyer. “Is Lisa Marie dressed?”

“Miss Moon, she lock her door. I
don’t know what she doing in there.”

I went down the hallway to Lisa
Marie’s room. “Lisa Marie, it’s me, Pali. Can I help with anything?”

“Go away.”

“It’s ten to five. We’ll start no
later than five-thirty, okay?”

“Is Brad here?”

“Not yet.”

“Then how can we start? We have to
wait for him.”

At exactly five the minister
arrived and joined us in the sunroom. We made quiet chit-chat for almost an
hour and then a few minutes before six I went out to the lanai. It was nearly
dark except for the light cast by a dozen tiki torches that had been lit as the
sun hovered at the horizon. I told Marv we were all leaving now. He didn’t turn
around, but he gave a single nod to signal he’d heard.

In the two years I’ve been planning
weddings I’ve had a few last minute changes of heart and even a couple of
can’t
wait
elopements, but I’ve never witnessed a jilted bride. I guess
technically I still hadn’t. Lisa Marie never made an appearance. As if we’d
rehearsed it, we all quietly left the sunroom and slipped out to our cars with
only our final
alohas
breaking the silence.

On Friday morning I awoke to a
gentle rapping on the bedroom door. Lipton sprang into action, standing at
stiff alert, a growl coming from deep in her throat. Farrah tugged the covers
up to her chin and rolled over, taking the entire blanket with her. I had a
deep dent in my spine from the crossbar under the thin mattress.

“Who is it?” I said.

“Pali? It’s me, Steve. There’s a
guy named Todd Barker on the phone. He ordered me to wake you up. The guy sounds
like Darth Vadar with a vicious case of hemorrhoids.”

“Oh, joy.” Barker probably wanted
me to fetch him a latte.

I stumbled down the stairs,
mistaking the second-to-the-last stair for the final one. I fell with a thud,
striking my tailbone on the edge of the riser. I couldn’t afford to break a
bone so I pulled myself upright, rubbing my backside and shaking off the
pain. 

“Hey, Todd,” I said picking up the
receiver. “What time is it?”

“Forget that. You need to get down
here right away,” he said. “I’ve got something I want to run by you.”

“I’ll need a cup of coffee and a
shower first,” I said. “Then I’ve got to get some gas. You’re a good
twenty-five minutes from my house so the soonest I could be there is about an
hour.”

“I don’t need a play-by-play of your
hectic schedule, Miss Moon. Just get your ass in gear. I’ll be in the coffee
shop.” He hung up.

 I stopped at the gas station
on Hana Highway and reluctantly parted with one of the twenties Barker had
given me for the airport ride. The gas gauge ticked up to less than half a
tank. My ancient Geo sipped gas like a guppy, but buying fuel for all the
running back and forth from Olu’olu was tearing a serious hole in my already
tattered balance sheet.

I parked on the street and walked
onto the grounds of the Royal Crown Kamehameha. I’d never seen such
well-behaved plants. Everything was in tidy rows, with no spent blooms and no
wayward leaves littering the velvet lawn. I tiptoed across the manicured grass,
glancing left and right for the ever-vigilant gardeners who would, no doubt,
chase me off with a rake if they caught me leaving footprints.

As I crossed the lobby, Todd Barker
waved from a table at the oceanside café.

“What’ll you have?” he said.

The table was bare of food and
drink. Either he wasn’t having anything or his order hadn’t arrived yet.

“Thanks, but I’m fine.”

“I didn’t inquire about your
health,” he snapped. “I asked what you wanted to drink.”

The man really needed a vacation.

“Have you already ordered?” I said.

“Yeah, I’m having a BM.”

I knew what BM meant in my morning
routine, but I prayed that on the mainland it meant something different. I
shrugged in confusion.

“A Bloody Mary,” he said. “God
willing, they’ll have brains enough to serve it with a stalk of celery instead
of throwing in one of those pineapple, cherry, tiny umbrella gee-gaws.”

“I’d just like a glass of ice
water,” I said. I’d just spent twenty bucks on gas, and I still needed to get
stamps, vitamins and toilet paper which would no doubt deplete the rest of
fifty.

“I don’t drink alone,” he said. He
gestured to an eager-looking waiter. “Bring her a BM along with some ice
water.”

“Right away, sir.” The waiter
smiled and bowed slightly before stepping away from the table. I felt uneasy
with the guy’s toady behavior, but it was probably because before long I’d be
perfecting the fine points of toady-ism myself. 

“I’ll get right to the point.” Todd
held my gaze like a stare-down. “I’m here to proposition you.”  

Whoa
, I thought. Becoming a
toady waitress to pay the bills is one thing, moving into the sex trade was
something else indeed. I felt a little thrill run down my spine. He wasn’t that
bad looking. His conduct could use a little polish, but at least he wasn’t a
fat slob like Tank Sherman. And, morals aside, hooker money would be a damn
sight better than what I’d make trotting mai tais to pasty-faced tourists.

My reverie about a possible new
career path was cut short when he continued.

“I need your help in nailing the
Prescotts—or more precisely, Lisa Marie.” He twisted his mouth into a sideways
smile that looked like he’d just come from the dentist. “I’ve talked it over
with my guys back in Seattle, and we’re pretty sure she’s up to her eyeballs in
this, and her father’s protecting her.”

He fell silent while the waiter
ceremoniously served us our drinks. The guy hovered for half a minute until
Todd shooed him away with a dismissive wave.

“Why are you so sure it’s her” I
said.

“Oh, c’mon,” he said. “She’s not as
dumb as she’d lead you to believe. DigiSystems finally starts grabbing some
headlines and her two so-called fiancés bite it within a two-week period. She’s
left looking like a grieving widow—a very prominent widow—I might add.”

I wanted to ask how he imagined she
actually killed the guys, but he started up again before I could get it out.

“Listen up. I took a cab down to
their place late last night and that sumbitch, Marv, was almost gleeful. Oh, he
made like the concerned father, but trust me, underneath all his BS he was
laughing his ass off. And, Lisa Marie? She’s psycho. She’s probably counting on
an insanity plea to get her off with a short stint in some high-class loony
bin. And then when she gets out she’ll just pick up her life where she left
off.”

“Todd, I’m not the police. I’m not
even a private detective. I can’t imagine how I could help you.”

“Keep your ear to the ground,
schmooze with the so-called grieving family and see what you can find out. Lisa
Marie was all moony last night about what good friends you two are and how
you’ve helped her get through this. Who knows, you might even get her to
confess.”

I wanted to laugh. Why would Lisa
Marie tell him we’re friends when she spits in my eye every chance she gets?

“Look,” he went on. “I really need
you to say ‘yes’ on this. And I’m not asking for charity. I got my board to
approve a five-thousand dollar reward for information leading to an arrest of
who killed our guys. Not for me, of course, but for whoever helps me. And, from
what I can see, it isn’t gonna be the cops who crack this. This morning I
called and talked to some guy named Wong who’s assigned to the case. He sounds
like he means well, but he’s clueless. Literally.”

“Actually, I heard he may have some
evidence.” I regretted it as soon as it was out of my mouth.

“Yeah, what?”

“Oh, it’s probably just gossip. But
it seems the police have talked to a guy who called in on the tip line.”

“Probably some beach bum who swears
he saw a one-armed man fleeing the scene.” He shook his head. “Look, I know
Prescott’s lawyered the girl up with some well-connected local. So even if she
doesn’t get off with the psycho act, it’s not hard to see how this will go: the
cops will screw up the investigation, then the girl’s lawyer will bribe some
on-the-take judge and in the end she’ll get off with a slap on the wrist.”

The more he talked, the more
difficult it became for me to not throw my BM in his face and leave. But I
wanted to hear him out. Eventually, he might say something of value. If nothing
else, I owed it to Kevin—and Farrah—to gather whatever information I could. I’d
promised Kevin I’d watch his back. And now his back was stretched out on an
autopsy table.

Todd took a gulp of his vodka-laced
tomato juice.

“I’ve got to hand it to her,” he said.
“She got both guys away from home so she’d get off scot free. Back in the
States the police would have nailed her right away for Brad’s murder—when he
first disappeared. And Kevin would still be alive. But over here—”

I’d had enough. “First of all, Todd,
Hawaii
is
a state. It’s the fiftieth state. We vote for the president,
and we even have our own state quarter. And Glen Wong is a first-rate homicide
detective. He’s bucking for promotion, so he has no reason whatsoever to allow
this investigation to be compromised. And finally, our local judges have as
much integrity—if not more—than any judge you’ll find on the mainland. If Lisa
Marie killed your guys, she’ll be found guilty and she’ll go to prison.”

“Says you.”

“Yeah. Says me.”

“Then prove it.”