Right from the Gecko (11 page)

“It's not about the conference.” I hesitated. “It's about Marnie Burton's murder.”

I braced myself for all the fury of the Mauna Loa volcano. And that's exactly what I got.

“Why did you bother to bring me all this way if it wasn't to spend at least a little time with me?” he demanded, grabbing his sheet off the floor and holding it in front of him like a giant three-hundred-thread-count fig leaf. “I thought this was our chance to get away together. Instead, you're totally obsessed with this Marnie person that you only met once—”

“I know I only met her once. But I'm involved, Nick! Whether you believe me or not, whoever killed her thinks I have something he's after!”

“What about the Maui Police Department?” Nick demanded. “Isn't this supposed to be their job?”

“I know it's their job, and of course they're working on it. But aside from the horror of what happened to that poor young woman,
I
could be in danger.
You
could be in danger!”

Nick cast me a look that qualified him to be the poster boy for skepticism.

“I thought you understood!” I cried.

“I do—up to a point. I know you've gotten involved in murder investigations before. I can't say I completely understand it, other than that being in the wrong place at the wrong time happens to be a quirk of yours. But I don't understand why you have to run off right now, just as you and I were about to—”

“Okay, here's why: because I have an appointment with someone who knew her. Someone who worked with her, in fact. Because she might help me figure out who killed Marnie and what they wanted so badly that they broke into our hotel room to get their hands on it. Because at this very moment, she's probably sitting in a coffee shop in Lahaina—and from the way she sounded on the phone, looking for a reason not to wait for me.”

“Fine,” Nick retorted. “If you keep insisting that the fact that you misplaced that stupid conference packet means you're next on some crazed murderer's hit list, fine. If that's how you want to spend your vacation on Maui, then fine. But don't expect me to sit around waiting for you while you live out your Miss Marple fantasies!” He grabbed a bathing suit, his snorkel and fins, and a towel, then strode toward the door.

“Then don't!” I exclaimed. “That's fine with me.”

“Fine!” he cried.

“Fine!” I shot back.

But as I heard him slam the door on his way out, I didn't feel even close to fine.

Chapter
6

D
espite being a Mecca for tourists, the town of Lahaina managed to retain the quaint, old-fashioned feeling of the whaling center it became a few decades after the missionaries arrived and forced the natives out of their grass skirts and loincloths and into muumuus and aloha shirts. Its main thoroughfare, Front Street, was lined with weatherworn wooden buildings that gave the impression that some enterprising individual with a deeply rooted Walt Disney complex had transported an entire nineteenth-century whaling town all the way from New England.

According to Nick's guidebook, the picturesque port was the home of Seamen's Cemetery, Seamen's Hospital, and a prison that had undoubtedly gotten a lot of use during the town's raucous thar-she-blows days. Even Herman Melville had dropped in for some wild partying, 1800s-style, during his stint as a sailor.

These days, free-spirited natives and fun-seeking sailors had been replaced by free-spirited, fun-seeking tourists. The low, flat-roofed buildings housed art galleries, jewelry stores, clothing boutiques, and restaurants, and the narrow sidewalks were crowded with out-of-town visitors strolling around the lively streets of the charming downtown area.

I, however, was in no mood for strolling. Not when I was frantic over the possibility that Holly Gruen might have already bolted. I half-jogged toward the coffee shop she had chosen as our meeting place, jostling a few surprised-looking tourists and trying to make up for it by muttering “Sorry” and “Excuse me” every time I took a breath.

I turned a corner and spotted the Bean Scene. I was overcome with relief, although that feeling pretty much vanished as soon as I glanced at my watch and saw that I was more than fifteen minutes late.

I pushed open the door, cringing at the blast of air-conditioning that assaulted me. Scanning the coffee shop, I saw that only two or three of the Formica tables were in use. The small eatery appeared to be more popular with locals than tourists—although in the middle of the afternoon, it clearly wasn't particularly popular with anyone.

Only one of the tables was occupied by a young woman sitting alone. Even though she'd pulled out one of the laminated menus wedged between the plastic ketchup and mustard bottles and left it open in front of her, she kept glancing around furtively.

“Holly?” I asked as I neared the table. When she nodded, I added, “Sorry I'm late.”

What struck me most about Holly Gruen was that, physically, she was the exact opposite of Marnie. While Marnie had a tiny frame that gave her the appearance of a wood sprite, the other female reporter who had worked at the
Maui Dispatch
had a stocky build. Her straight, dark-brown hair was cut chin-length and tucked behind her ears, with no signs of the punky style Karen Nelson claimed she had once adopted.

She wore eyeglasses with black plastic frames, their severity surpassed only by the color of the black cotton blouse she was wearing. The shirt was huge, probably a man's size. I suspected its primary function was to conceal as much of her as possible.

As for the color, I couldn't remember having seen anybody else on Maui dressed in black. Somehow, it didn't fit in. Not when all the lush, fragrant hibiscus and palm trees made it practically impossible not to grab the first brightly colored garment you saw and put it on.

I suddenly understood why Karen Nelson had become alarmed when Holly started showing up at the
Dispatch
with spiked hair and short flouncy skirts.

“I was halfway out the door,” she announced petulantly as I took a seat opposite her. She sat hunched over the table, barely raising her head as she spoke to me. “I was counting down from one hundred. If you didn't show up by the time I got to zero, I was going to leave.”

“What number were you down to?”

“Twelve.”

Yikes, I thought. “In that case, I'm
really
sorry I'm late.”

I was already concluding that Holly was Marnie's opposite in other ways besides physical appearance. While Marnie had possessed enough energy and optimism to be considered practically manic, Holly in person was as lethargic and downbeat as she had sounded on the phone. No doubt another reason her idolization of Marnie had been so jarring to the people who'd known them both.

First thing, I reached into my backpack and pulled out the marble paperweight with the gold plaque. “Here's that award we talked about on the phone,” I said as I handed it over. “I think Marnie would have wanted you to have it.”

“Thanks,” she said sullenly. Without even bothering to look at it, she tucked it away in her oversize black leather pocketbook. I was surprised by her lack of interest—especially given what Karen Nelson had told me about Holly's response to Marnie winning the Association of Professional Journalists' award. Then again, this was small potatoes in comparison.

Holly leaned back in her chair, studying me suspiciously. “So who are you, anyway?” she asked. “I know you said you were friends with Marnie, but why should I believe you? How do I know you're not with the police? Or a private investigator?”

“I'm neither, Holly. I really was just a friend.” As if to prove I had nothing to do with the cops, I handed her my business card. “See? I'm a veterinarian. I live on Long Island, outside New York City.”

As she glanced at my card, her mouth twitched downward. “I don't remember Marnie ever mentioning you,” she said as she stuck it into her shirt pocket. She appeared to have no more interest in it than she'd had in Marnie's award. “Not that I knew her all that well. Outside of the office, I mean.”

“I used to live in Ellensburg, where she grew up,” I explained, hoping I was doing a convincing job of rewriting history. “But I've lived on the East Coast for a long time now. Over the years, Marnie and I grew apart in a lot of ways, but we still stayed in touch. Christmas cards, the occasional e-mail, that kind of thing. So I looked her up when I came to Maui for the veterinary conference that's going on right now at the Royal Banyan Hotel. We got together on Sunday afternoon and had a great time reminiscing about the old days. And then this terrible thing happened.”

I searched her face for a reaction. There was none.

“Actually, I'm probably one of the last people who saw her alive,” I continued. “And I'm still in shock. I mean, she was killed just a few hours after I talked to her.”

“It's awful, isn't it?” Holly's face sagged. For the first time, I got a sense that somewhere in there was an empathetic creature. And that maybe she was starting to let down her guard a bit.

Just then our waitress wandered over. “What can I get you girls?” she asked cheerfully, pulling a well-chewed pencil out from behind her ear.

“I'll just have iced tea,” Holly replied without glancing up at her.

“Order whatever you want,” I urged. “I'm taking you out.”

“Really?” The brightness that momentarily appeared in her eyes told me I'd just said the magic words. “In that case, I'll have a mahi sandwich—no, make that a shrimp salad sandwich—with onion rings. And fries.”

“I'll stick with iced tea,” I told the waitress.

“Gotcha.”

“I'm really hungry,” Holly told me, her cheeks flushed and her tone defensive. “I haven't had lunch yet. Besides, I hardly ever get to eat out. I couldn't really afford it on what the
Dispatch
paid, and now that I'm not working, I pretty much stick to peanut butter and jelly.”

“Not exactly what people expect when they fantasize about living in Hawaii,” I observed.

She grimaced. “The problem is that it's so darned expensive here. They have to bring everything over by boat or plane, so anything you buy costs way more than on the mainland.”

“Where are you from?”

“Florida. So I guess that makes me one of the few people who didn't come for the weather.”

“What did bring you here, then?” I asked.

“A few things,” she replied with a little shrug. “The lifestyle. The ocean, although I'm not a big fan of sunworshipping on the beach. Not with these thighs. Adventure too, I guess. You know, the romance of picking up and coming to an exotic new place.”

“So you had different motivations than Marnie,” I observed. “She told me she came here because of the job. She was determined to make a name for herself as a reporter.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Marnie,” she agreed. Disapprovingly, she added, “I mean, there aren't many people who would move three thousand miles away from home just for a job.”

“But that's just because she was ambitious,” I pointed out. I was anxious to bring the conversation back to Holly's feelings about Marnie. The report Karen Nelson had given about the relationship between the two women was chilling, and I was hoping to get a sense of just how accurate it was.

“That's an understatement.” Holly let out an odd little laugh, then added, “Believe me, everybody who ever came into contact with her knew that. It was her nature. That girl was the type who wouldn't stop at anything. I mean, I'm as competitive as the next person, but she was in another category altogether.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Of course I knew she was a go-getter, but you make her sound really extreme.”

“She
was
extreme,” she said simply. “I mean, you knew her for a long time, right? So you must have had a sense that she was one of those people who don't understand limits.”

I pretended to think for a few seconds. “It's true that she had a few problems with the way she interacted with other people…”

Holly snorted. “That girl had problems understanding limits in terms of everything she did. And that definitely included her job. Whatever story she was working on was always the hottest story of the decade. Whoever she'd just interviewed was the most fascinating interview of her entire life. She was just so intense in the way she approached things.”

Intense.
That same word I kept hearing over and over again.

“And talk about being a workaholic,” Holly continued, rolling her eyes. “I mean, she'd get into work before Mr. Carrera even, and she'd still be working into the wee hours. I remember once I stopped by the office pretty late because I'd forgotten something I wanted to bring home with me. Notes for something I was covering first thing the next morning. It was probably close to eleven. But there she was, still working away. She was the only one there, in fact.

“But that doesn't mean she didn't spend plenty of time out of the office too, covering stories,” she added. “The paper has a really small staff. When I was there, it was just Marnie and me reporting the news. So we were always pretty busy.”

We stopped talking as our waitress deposited our iced teas on the table. I was still emptying a packet of sugar into mine as Holly poured in two packets of her own, then sucked up a full third of her drink through a straw without coming up for air.

I took only a small sip, wanting to make sure I had enough time to ask all the questions I wanted before Holly's food disappeared and Holly disappeared with it. “Marnie always had such big plans,” I commented. “That was true even when she was a kid.”

“
Oh,
yeah.” Holly frowned. “To hear her talk, she was destined to become the next Christiane Amanpour. Y'know, we were friends, kind of, since we worked together and all, and in a way I hate to say this. Especially since when I first met her, I kind of admired her, you know? But then I got to know her better, and believe me, I ended up having serious doubts about whether she could ever have made it.”

“Really?” My surprise was genuine. “Why?”

“Marnie had kind of a strange way of looking at things. I mean, she saw the worst in every situation. She was always convinced there was scandal and corruption and all kinds of evil stuff everywhere. It got to be such a thing with her that you started wondering if she was paranoid.”

The exact same assessment Bryce Bolt made, I noted. I wondered if that particular personality trait could have been what turned Holly off in the end, rather than her competitiveness toward Marnie. I wondered if it was what had gotten Marnie murdered too.

“But is it possible she uncovered an important story that would have caused somebody embarrassment—or had even worse ramifications?” I persisted. “An exposé that would have made her a few enemies?”

Holly shook her head. “Nope. At least, not while I was working there.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Believe me, if there was anything that interesting going on, we'd all have known about it,” she replied, sounding scornful of my naïveté. “Maui is like a small town. Everybody knows everybody else's business. And nobody had any secrets at the
Dispatch
office. You've been there, right? You can hear everyone else's phone calls and you can see what's on everybody else's computer screen. If Marnie was working on something like that, I'd have known about it.”

Unless she talked on a cell phone in some other location, I reflected. And recorded what she learned on tapes instead of on the office computer.

I decided to try a different approach.

“What stories was Marnie working on?” I asked. “I don't mean car accidents and ribbon-cutting ceremonies. I'm talking about big stories, like your Hawaii Power and Light story.”

She looked startled. “I don't think that's any of your business.” Realizing she'd sounded a bit harsh, she added, “I mean, I don't think Richard Carrera would appreciate it if his reporters and his ex-reporters went around blabbing about insider stuff like that.”

I couldn't help wondering if Holly was really that loyal—or if she had something to hide.