Maui Widow Waltz (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series) (20 page)

BOOK: Maui Widow Waltz (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series)
4.61Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

 

 

 

CHAPTER 26

 

N
oni
and Tank were due at four, but by four-thirty there was still no sign of them.
My Auntie Mana used to say ‘the servant waits on the
ali’i
, but never
the other way around’ so I refused to hang out any longer.

I was shoving the last battered
cardboard box into my Geo when the black BMW pulled in across the street. Noni
was driving, Tank riding shotgun. His head lolled against the passenger window
as if his bulky neck was weary of holding up his fat face.

I turned my back and pretended not
to see them. Then I slammed the trunk lid and race-walked to Farrah’s.

Tank lumbered into the store before
Farrah and I’d had a chance to rehearse how we were going to play it. I was
still undecided whether I should pretend to go along with Tank’s plan to buy
‘Let’s Get Maui’d’ and then renege if I got the reward money; or take a chance
and tell him I wasn’t going to sell. If I didn’t get the reward money I’d
probably be sorry if I chose option two. Knowing Tank, if I refused him now,
he’d punish me by refusing to pay me anything later.

“Well, well,” Tank said as he
waddled over to where we were standing. Noni was right behind him but I
couldn’t see her around his bulk. His porcine eyes took us in as if we’d been
sculpted in chocolate. “My two favorite
wahines
. How’s it hangin’,
girls?”

He’d gained even more weight since
the last time I’d seen him. At only five foot eight the guy looked like he
tipped the scales at three-fifty or better. He wore baggy cotton shorts that
bunched up in his crotch. His gelatinous thighs slapped together with every
step. I glanced down to see how he held up all the bulk. In his green rubber
flip-flops, his feet looked like two Chinese pot-stickers with a green scallion
garnish.

A cigar stub jutted from the side
of his mouth.   

“No smoking in here,” said Farrah.
She hauled out a sand-filled butt bucket from under the front counter. “Ditch
it.”

“No way,” Tank shot back. “This
here’s a Cuban. Besides, it’s not even lit.”

“It still stinks, and this is a
place of business. Use of tobacco products is against the law in here.”

“Yeah, well don’t sweat it,
ipo
,
because I’m here to relieve you of your enforcement duties.”

Farrah swallowed hard. I knew how
she felt. It was one thing to verbally agree to sell your business to a slob
like Tank, it was another thing altogether to actually hand over the keys.
 

“I’ll need some time to move out,”
said Farrah. “After all, I live here. I need to look for a new place.”

“Don’t panic,” he said. “Nobody’s
kicking you out today. Mostly I wanted to just drop by and make sure
everybody’s going to play nice before I set up a closing date.”

“When will that be?” I said.

“Sometime around the end of the
month.”

“How’s Farrah supposed to run the
store and look for a new apartment at the same time?”

“Hey, you ladies knew I was buying
this building. Not my problem you left it to the last minute to get your
affairs in order.”

“Yeah,” Noni chimed in, “I came by
and talked with you girls more than a week ago. You’ve had plenty of notice.”

Tank scowled at her. She bobbed her
head in submission and retreated a half-step.

Tank started walking down the first
aisle, taking in the shelves. “Looks like you’ve been lax in restocking since I
made my offer. I may have to factor that into my price.”

“What are you talking about?”
Farrah said. “We agreed on a price. Everything’s the same. Ask my suppliers. I
haven’t changed my ordering in five years.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I’ll need to
take a look around.”

He shuffled down the snacks and
cookie aisle, grabbed a bag of Double Stuf Oreos and ripped into the package.

“That’ll be four dollars and
seventy cents,” Farrah said in her proprietress voice. 

“Oh, I think not,” Tank mumbled
back. Black cookie bits flew from his mouth as he chomped and talked at the
same time.

Noni turned to me and said in a
whisper, “I’d like to go next door and see where you keep everything.”

We slipped out the back while Tank
and Farrah argued the price of Oreos. 

Once we got outside Noni said, “Mr.
Sherman’s asked me to operate the bridal business for a few months until he can
move it to the new location.”

“Why would he move it?”

“Because he’s taking down this
building. He’s already got investors lined up to underwrite a three-story
parking structure on this site. He’ll be closing the store and the wedding shop
by the end of summer.” She shot me a saccharin smile. I couldn’t keep my lower
jaw from dropping open as I took in the news. I skidded to a stop.

“But this is a historic building.
The store’s been here for more than a hundred years.”

“That’s quaint and all, but we’re
not here to do a documentary for the History Channel. Mr. Sherman’s bringing
growth and prosperity to the island. And Pa’ia Town needs visitor parking way
more than it needs this old store or your silly bridal shop. Now, let’s go
inside and see what you’ve got.”

My shop looked beyond bare. I’d
already rolled up the tattered throw rugs and I’d stripped the walls of the few
items I’d hung there. I’d even disassembled the three way mirror and the
changing stall. The pieces were haphazardly piled in a corner.

“What’s all that over there?” she
said pointing to the pile.

“Oh, those are your dressing room
fixtures. They’ll need to be put back together before you re-open.”

“Why’d you take them down?”

“They need to be thoroughly
cleaned. This is a very visual business, Noni, and prospective brides can get
very turned off if they see any grime or smudges. Not to mention, I needed to
spray for cockroaches and check out some fresh rat droppings.”

She wrinkled her nose but said
nothing.

“All the pieces are there.” I
crossed my fingers behind my back. Actually, all the
large
pieces were
there, but the screws, bolts, and cotter pins had somehow ended up in the glove
box of the Geo. They wouldn’t be found for a while.

Of course all of Hatch’s lavender
gifts—the candles, wreath, basket, and pillows—had already been hauled up to my
house. I’d asked a friend of a friend with a pickup truck to help me move my
desk and chair later in the month. I planned to generously bequeath Tank with
the sagging sofa and bead curtain. Both evoked memories of Kevin I hoped to
leave behind.

Noni held out her hand, palm up.
“Key?”

“Why should I give you a key? Tank
hasn’t bought the building yet.”

“He’s paying for the business and this
place is a mess. I’ll need to hire some people to fix it up so I can operate
from here until I can find a nicer place. Face it, Pali, you’re
pau
—finished.”

I showed her where I’d hidden a key
outside and then rushed back to Farrah’s.

“Did he tell you he’s going to
demolish this building?” I asked.

“What? Why?”

“According to Noni he’s going to
put up a parking garage.”

“Hell,” she said, “I was feeling
crappy enough, and now this.” She used a box cutter to split open a cardboard
box of paper towels. “Do you think he can actually do that? Don’t you think the
city fathers or mothers or whoever will stop him?”

“Well, he’ll probably need to get a
zoning variance. I think all of Baldwin Avenue is zoned for shops, restaurants
and professional offices. I doubt if that includes parking garages. But way
back when they did the zoning they’d probably never even heard of a parking
garage. They’ll probably hold a public meeting and see if anyone objects.”

She shot me a look and we both
barked a bitter laugh.

“As if local objections ever slowed
down raging development on Maui,” said Farrah.

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure a variance
won’t be tough for him to get. You know how hard it is for tourists to find
parking around here. I wouldn’t be surprised if they not only approve it but
offer the county’s bulldozers to help with the demolition.”

“Total bummer.”

“One glimmer of hope,” I said.
“This building could probably get historical landmark status. Didn’t you tell
me it was the original company store for the old sugar plantation?”

Farrah dropped her head and began
paring her thumbnail with the box cutter.

“I didn’t finish the paperwork.”
She said it so quietly I had to replay the comment in my mind to make sure I’d
heard her correctly.

“What paperwork?”

“When my mom had the store, she got
some paperwork from the historical society. I found it in her stuff later. She
died before she got it filled out. I always meant to finish it, but every time
I looked at it I just got too bummed out.”

“So do it now.”

“Can’t. They only give you five
years to apply after you record the deed.” She shot me a defiant look. “It’s
harder than you think, Pali. The form’s about thirty pages long, and they
wanted all sorts of historical research stuff. It was impossible. I was just a
teenager.”

“Wow, it looks like Tank’s going to
be allowed to destroy a huge piece of Hawaiian history so he can rip off
tourists coming to see historic Pa’ia Town. Kind of a weird oxymoron, don’t you
think?”

“I’m not sure what that means, but
I’m sure I agree. Who’d of ever thought a high school loser like Tank would end
up kicking our asses?”

We stood there, not saying
anything, for a few moments.

“Oh, before I forget,” she said,
“he left us these. He called them a good-will gesture.” She pulled two white
business-size envelopes from a pocket in her
mu’u mu’u
and handed me one
with my name on it. I ripped it open and saw a cashier’s check drawn on a
Honolulu bank for five thousand dollars. He’d had the bank make it out to my
legal name.

“Not much for all your hard work,
is it?” Farrah said, leaning in to look at my check. “Oh wow, I’d forgotten all
about your real name.”

“It’s a bitch.” I said.

“What? Handing your business over
to Tank Sherman, or your beastly name?”

“Both.”

Farrah used the box cutter to zip
open her envelope. She took out the check. Her hands trembled as she held it.
Tears pooled in her eyes.

“That’s a lot of money,” I said.

“Dirty money,” she replied. “I’ve
let everyone down, starting with not honoring my mom and dad’s memory. And then
when Tank bulldozes this building a lot of Maui history will go with it. But
most of all, I let Kevin down—in the worst possible way. I should never have
told Noni anything.”

Farrah waved the box cutter in front
of her face. “If I find out Tank killed my darling Kevin over a damn parking
garage I’ll rip that fat bastard’s beating heart right out of his chest.”

So much for make love, not war.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 27

 

A
t
dinner Friday night, Farrah announced she’d be moving back to her apartment in
the morning.

“I’m crowding you guys, and I’ve
got to find a new place to live before the end of the month. And since I don’t
have wheels, it’ll be easier to look for a new pad if I’m down in town.”

 We all made the appropriate
denials about her being in the way, but it was mostly nice noise. In the past
couple of days, all three of us had privately voiced our dismay over the lack
of bathroom time and privacy.

“You taking the dogs?” Hatch said.

“Of course.”

He nodded, but a spark of anguish
flashed across his face.

“Oh, and the little spotted pup’s
all yours if you want it,” Farrah said. “It needs to stay with Lipton for a few
more weeks though—until he’s weaned.”


Mahalo,
Farrah. I’d really
like that.” Hatch grinned as if he’d been chosen Employee of the Month and
given his own parking space.

“What’s with you two?” Steve said.

“Who two?” Hatch asked.

“You two.” Steve wagged a finger at
me and Hatch. “I practically need to grab a jacket when the two of you are in
the same room. You guys have a fight or something?”

“Not that I know of,” said Hatch.

“Me neither.”

“It’s me,” said Farrah. “We’re all
getting on each other’s last nerve. You guys were really nice to take me in but
it’s time for me to go. Things will get back to normal once I clear out.”

Later that night I was sitting on
the porch when Hatch thumped through the door.

“Sorry, didn’t realize you were out
here.” He turned to go back inside.

“No, stay. I should be getting to
bed anyway.” I stood up.

He touched my arm. “Steve’s right,
you know. You’ve been acting pretty harsh toward me.”

“Harsh? I don’t think I’ve been
acting any different than normal.”

He leaned in and I could smell a
slight hint of his aftershave.

“Are you mad because I won’t muck around
in this murder investigation with you?”

I thought about it for a few
moments. “No. It would’ve been nice to have your help, but I understand why you
might not want to do it.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you’re a fireman now and
you don’t want to be reminded of what you gave up.”

He shot me a rueful smile. “Yeah,
that pretty much sums it up.”

We stood close together, neither
one moving, for what seemed like a few beats too long.

“Something else is bothering you,”
he said. “What is it?”

“Let’s sit down.”

We each took a wicker chair and,
once we got settled, Hatch pulled out a pencil and pushed it down inside his
cast. “Man, this thing itches. I can’t believe I’ve got to put up with this
thing for another month.”

“Speaking of itches: what’s the
story on you and that redhead you picked up at Cisco’s on Wednesday?” It flew
out of my mouth and just laid there like a rotting fish.

“Oh, so that’s it. You jealous?”

“Jealous? No. I’m only asking
because I was concerned about your welfare.”

“Well, shoot.” Hatch said. Even in
the semi-darkness I could see the beginnings of a sly smile. “Sorry if I made
you worry, but my welfare was in
very
capable hands.” 

I didn’t say anything. No,
truthfully, I
couldn’t
say anything. I felt my throat constrict and my
eyes burned as if I’d chopped a pound of onions. Thankfully the porch light was
only twenty watts.

“You okay?” Hatch’s smile faded.

I cleared my throat.

“Sorry,” he said. “Bad attempt at
humor.” He reached over and touched my arm. “I was excited about going up to
that lavender farm and getting you all that stuff for Valentine’s Day. A guy on
my shift lives up there—in Kula. His wife—the redhead you saw—offered to come
down and get me so I could get an early start in the morning. I stayed up at
their house with their two kids, three ornery Rottweilers and a pygmy goat. As
I said, I was in
very
capable hands.”

***

On Saturday morning I took Farrah
and the dogs down to the store before it opened. As we pushed the door open,
Lipton dashed inside and ran up and down the aisles, seemingly thrilled to be
home among familiar smells. Farrah went back out to the car and carried the
puppy box inside. She put it down near the front counter and Lipton immediately
set to work hauling her offspring, one by one, out of the box and onto the wide
plank floor.

“What if someone sees the dogs?” I
said.

“Like I give a rip. I deposited
Fatso’s check in the bank right after he left. They put a hold on it, but if
Tank tries to stop payment on it I’m sure they’ll tell him it already cleared.
None of the girls at the bank were very thrilled at the notion of this store
being turned into a parking garage.”

“Have you thought about what you’ll
do now?”

“The money’s enough to keep me
going for a while. I’ll probably do some tarot readings and stuff like that to
keep my skills up. And, if it’s all right with you, I’ll sign up to do weddings
and flowers for some of the other wedding planners on the island.”

“No problem. Unless I can pull off
a miracle, it won’t be long before I’m doling out watered-down mai tais at the
No Ka Oi Luau.”

 “Oh gawd, don’t say that. I
feel so guilty. I should share my windfall.”


Mahalo
for the thought, but
there’s no reason both of us should be poor.”

“Well, at least I should go down
there and work with you.”

 “No dis, girl, but you show
up in a coconut bra and they’d cite you for indecent.”

She looked down at her generous
bosom. “Do they make a watermelon bra?”

I kissed her on the cheek and then
got out of there before the laughing stopped and the crying got underway.

***

That night it was my turn to make
dinner. I wasn’t the cook Steve was, but I managed to pan-fry a piece of mahi
mahi and serve it on a bed of fresh garlic-braised spinach. It turned out
better than I’d expected.

“This is a really good, Pali,”
Steve said when we sat down to eat. “So good in fact, that even though you’re
being all hush-hush about poking into this murder investigation and you’re
completely shutting me out, I’ll still share a tidbit you’d never find out on
your own.”

I gave him the
okay, spill
look. Hatch kept eating.

“Seems Wong’s come up with a whole
new scenario and a new motive.”

I let my facial expression egg him
on.

“Did you know there was some hinky
stuff going on at Sander’s and McGillvary’s company? Word is a competitor was
sniffing around, thinking of buying them out.”

I didn’t let on I already knew
this.

“Glen Wong said he talked to your
pal Barker this afternoon and Barker told him the stock tanked but now another
company has stepped in and upped the bid.”

“A different company?” I said.

“I guess. I don’t understand all
that Wall Street lingo but he said it’s called an ‘eleventh-hour rescue’ or
some such thing.”

“Huh. Did Wong say how that might
affect the murder investigation?”

“Not in so many words, but I’m
guessing if he thinks maybe the first company had the two guys killed so they
could buy DigiSystems on the cheap, then that expands the suspect pool to more
than just Lisa Marie.”

“Why’s Wong telling you all this?”
I said.

“Damned if I know. Maybe he’s
leaking information so witnesses will be more willing to come forward. You
know, salting the mine.”

“Or,” I said, “maybe he’s tossing
around disinformation to make the killers think the cops are going down the
wrong path. He’s hoping they’ll get cocky and blab.”

 “We got any more of that ice
cream with the nuts in it?” said Hatch.

“I’ll check,” I said. I got up and
checked. “Nope, all out.”

“I’ve been thinking about that ice
cream all day,” he said. “How ‘bout it Steve? You drive, I’ll buy.”

That night I mulled over Todd
Barker’s conversation with Glen Wong about a possible second offer on
DigiSystems. Barker hadn’t said a word to me about any eleventh-hour rescue,
and if he’d learned about it after our meeting, why hadn’t he called? Weren’t
we both on the same side here?  

That’s when it hit me: maybe we
weren’t.

 

 

Other books

See How She Dies by Lisa Jackson
First Dance by Bianca Giovanni
Understanding Power: the indispensable Chomsky by Chomsky, Noam, Schoeffel, John, Mitchell, Peter R.
Al Oeste Con La Noche by Beryl Markham
Dreams of a Hero by Charlie Cochrane
Blue Shoes and Happiness by Alexander McCall Smith