Right from the Gecko (26 page)

I wrapped up my ankle with the sports bra, twisting the stretchy straps over the top of my foot to hold it in place. Then, holding my breath, I took a few tentative steps. It worked. I could walk.

“Good as new!” I announced. “In fact, I'm beginning to believe that we're actually going to get out of here alive.”

Nick looked surprised. “Did you ever doubt it?”

I decided to save my honest answer for another time. “Let's try to get some sleep,” I suggested. “I have a feeling tomorrow's going to be another long day.”

The following morning, Nick and I sat in silence as we drove back to the Royal Banyan Hotel, with me in the driver's seat and him sprawled out beside me. By that point, both of us were too grubby, too exhausted, and too stupefied by our arduous adventure to make conversation.

On a Saturday morning, Maui was strangely quiet. There were fewer cars on the road than usual. It was difficult to believe that Nick and I had already put in a long day. As soon as the sun's first tentative rays had begun illuminating the canyon, we started walking, following the river. I had to admit, the jagged red walls of the cliffs rising up alongside us, glowing like hot coals as the golden sunlight hit them, were beautiful. So were the signs that other hikers before us had followed this same route. While we didn't find any more caches of water and granola bars, we occasionally came across a piece of the shiny wrapper from a candy bar or even a footprint. It wasn't much, but it went a long way in encouraging us.

When we finally made it to the mountain road, I knew the worst was over. We kept walking, marveling over how much easier it was to tread upon pavement. My makeshift Ace bandage worked wonders. Even so, the sun was getting pretty hot by then, so we were pleased when a man in his pickup truck stopped for us. He even made his golden Lab move to the back so Nick and I could take her place in the front seat. Just like her, I stuck my head out the open window, luxuriating in the cool air and the warm sunshine and the knowledge that we'd survived.

The driver dropped us at the airport, where we booked seats on the next flight to Kahului Airport. I was thankful that Nick and I both routinely carried our credit cards, even on sightseeing expeditions. But when it came to buying out half the food at the concession, we stuck with cold, hard cash. Coffee and a couple of fried-egg sandwiches went a long way toward restoring both our energy and our good humor.

In fact, as we drove along the now-familiar roads of Maui, grateful to be back in one piece, our night on Kauai felt like something that had happened long, long ago. But that didn't mean I was planning to forget it.

Or that I wasn't more anxious than ever to find out who had arranged for Nick and me to be stranded at the bottom of a canyon.

Chapter
15

B
y the time Nick and I rode up in the hotel elevator, all I could think about was a hot shower. As for our discussion about getting married, it remained unacknowledged and undiscussed now that we'd been thrust back into our real lives. As far as I was concerned, the entire episode was simply the result of our shared fear that we'd never again see Betty or Winston or any of our friends and relatives, much less a justice of the peace.

Besides, I had more immediate problems to think about—like how I was ever going to wash off all the sweat and grime and red dirt that coated every square inch of my body. I was so focused on what would be required to feel like a normal human being that I even forgot we had a houseguest.

I remembered as soon as we stepped into our room and found Moose standing right inside the door, mewing at us crossly.

“You poor pussycat!” I cooed, crouching down and scooping him into my arms. It felt wonderful to hold his warm, furry body, but it also made me miss my own menagerie terribly. “I'm so sorry, Moosie-pie. We didn't mean to leave you alone for such a long time.”

“Is he okay?” Nick asked.

“He's fine. Just hungry. And maybe a little lonely.” Stroking Moose's silky black fur, I added, “I've got to find him a home. He doesn't belong in a hotel room. Besides, we'll only be here for a few more days. There must be somebody on this island who'd be willing to make Moose part of their family.”

“You'll think of something,” Nick said. “Maybe you can call a local vet and ask if—hey, look. The light on our phone is blinking. Somebody called.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and dialed the code required to retrieve messages. He listened, frowning, then grabbed the pen and pad sitting on the night table and scribbled something down.

“It was Rob Kourvis,” he informed me after he hung up, “one of the newspaper editors I tried to contact on Thursday. I left my cell number and the hotel number on his voice mail. Yesterday he called me back at this number.”

“What did he say?” I asked anxiously.

“That he'd be happy to talk to me about Bryce Bolt,” Nick replied. He hesitated before adding, “It seems he's got plenty to tell me. In fact, he left me his home number.”

Before I had a chance to comment, Nick began punching numbers into the phone. “He's on the West Coast,” he told me as he waited for someone to answer. “It's a bit early for a Saturday morning, but—”

He held up his hand to indicate that he was listening. After a few seconds, he said, “Hi, Mr. Kourvis. It's Nick Burby. Thanks for returning my call. I'll try you again later today. In the meantime, I'll leave my phone numbers again…”

After he hung up, he looked at me expectantly. “Now what?”

“A hot shower,” I replied. “And once I feel like a human being again, I'd like to pay another visit to Ace Atwood.”

Nick's eyebrows shot up. “What for? To tell him you found out he and Marnie had a big fight a few hours before she turned up dead?”

“Actually, that's not what I'm curious about. There's something else Ace mentioned that's been nagging at me. He's about to make a career change. I want to find out if the corporate ladder he's about to climb has an
FT
on it.”

Nick frowned. “Wait a minute. You think Ace might have ties to FloraTech?”

“It's just a theory,” I told him. “And even if he does, it still might not mean anything. But I intend to find out.”

With that, I headed into the bathroom to make that shower I'd been fantasizing about a reality.

As I walked into Ace's plastic surgery establishment, I saw that his operation was in full swing. I had to admit that his team of Auto Artists seemed to do good work. At least, if the gleaming Mercedes, Toyotas, and Saabs scattered around the shop, with their perfect paint jobs and not a scratch or a dent or a ding anywhere in sight, were any indication. Surrounded by all that machinery, I had to wonder if his interest in metal and motors extended to helicopters.

I spotted Ace in his office, talking on the phone. He was wearing the same tight T-shirt as last time, and his hair looked just as perfect. I slunk over, then stood behind a stack of cans of something called “body filler” so I could eavesdrop.

“Listen, it's gonna be fine,” he was insisting. “Can't you trust me on anything? Hey, I know it's a big change, but I'm somebody who knows a golden opportunity when it comes knockin' at my door….”

I got the feeling he was talking about the very subject I'd come all the way over here to discuss: his impending career change. And while I had no idea who he was talking to, I suspected that whoever it was had the same impression of Ace Atwood I did—that he wasn't someone who worked well with others.

But he'd told me himself he was looking forward to the predictability of a nine-to-five job. And given what a small world this was turning out to be—or, more accurately, what a small world Marnie Burton's world was turning out to be—I was pretty sure I already knew whose time clock he'd soon be punching.

“You again,” Ace greeted me crossly as he hung up the phone and I emerged from the shadows. His mouth twisted into a scowl, and his brilliant blue eyes had a guarded look.

“This time I'm here on business,” I told him, refusing to be intimidated by his clear dislike for anyone who had any ties to his philandering past. “I noticed some scratches on my car. Since it's a rental and all, I wanted to get an idea of what it would cost to fix before I return it, so they don't scam me.” I couldn't resist adding, “You know how those car rental companies are.”

He snorted to show how strongly he agreed. “Tell me about it.” As he strutted toward my Jeep, he added, “I did some work for one of 'em once. A place called Makai Rentals. I did the work, but then, when it was time to collect, they had all these sob stories about their insurance and their suppliers. In the end, they stiffed me.”

Like Ace, I recognized a golden opportunity when I saw one. “I guess that kind of experience is what made you decide to get a regular nine-to-five job.”

He glanced over at me so quickly I wondered if he'd given himself a case of whiplash. “Who told you about that?” he demanded, his left eye giving a telltale twitch.

“You did,” I said, plastering on the most innocent expression I could manage.

“Oh, yeah. Now I remember.” Still looking doubtful, he added, “I'm tellin' you, I'm not sorry I'm gonna be giving all this up soon.”

I decided to take a chance. “And I've heard FloraTech is really great to work for.”

“That's what they say.” As soon as he said the words, he looked over at me, his expression shocked. “Hey, how did you know—”

“You mentioned that last time,” I said quickly. “That you were going to work for them, I mean.”

“Yeah? I don't remember sayin' anything about them.”

I gave a little shrug. “How else would I know?” Before he had a chance to respond, I added, “From what I understand, FloraTech coming to this island is the best thing that's ever happened to Maui.”

“Hey, they got great benefits. Medical and life insurance and all that. Frankly, that's all I care about.” He hesitated before sticking his chin a little higher in the air and adding, “I just found out my wife is having a kid.”

The announcement this proud father-to-be had just made caught me entirely off guard. Even so, the wheels immediately began turning in my head.

Thanks to what Nick and I had learned about the argument Ace and Marnie had a few hours before she was killed, Ace had already moved higher on my list of suspects. But throw in his wife's announcement that she was pregnant and the stakes suddenly got even higher.

Especially since Marnie had threatened to tell Mrs. Atwood all about their affair just a few hours before her body washed up on a beach.

It was such a likely scenario, one that was practically a cliché, that I found myself wondering if I'd been wasting my time by putting so much effort into trying to find out about FloraTech. I fixed my eyes on Ace's, trying to see inside him. Even though I lacked the sixth sense I so desperately wished I had, I couldn't help thinking that I might have been foolish to let myself get so distracted. Detective Paleka was probably right that Marnie had been murdered by the man she was seen with at the bar. As Marnie's boyfriend, Ace was the most obvious suspect.

The more I learned about him, the clearer it seemed.

Still, I couldn't just ignore the fact that FloraTech had resurfaced once again, this time as Ace Atwood's soon-to-be employer and financial savior. The company popped up everywhere I went. Even though the answer to the question of who had killed Marnie and why might have been staring right at me—literally—I couldn't let go of the idea that it was no coincidence that so many of the strands from Marnie's life were connected to the biotech firm.

“Congratulations,” I said. “On the baby and all.”

“Thanks,” he muttered. He seemed to have already lost interest in that particular topic of conversation. “So where are these scratches?” he asked, scanning the side of my Jeep.

“Uh, right there. Under the mud…?”

Frowning, he brushed at the streaks of dried mud with his sleeve. “I don't see anything.”

“Gee, you're right.” I did my best to sound surprised. Thinking quickly, I added, “I guess that guy was just teasing me.”

“What guy?” he asked suspiciously.

“The guy at the gas station. The one who, uh, filled my gas tank. He's the one who told me the door was all scratched up. Or maybe the mud made it look that way.”

He looked at me as if I was so dense that I was destined to spend my entire life being the butt of blonde jokes. And my hair color is close enough to brown that it barely puts me into the blonde category.

But I didn't care. Not only had I gotten confirmation that Ace was one more person in Marnie's circle who had ties to FloraTech, I'd also learned he was on the verge of becoming a daddy, another solid reason for him to suddenly feel his paramour was a liability.

As I drove away from Ace's Auto Artists, my mind drifted back to the problem that had confronted me earlier that day. Moose needed a home. And he needed it sooner rather than later. I ran through the list of people I'd met on Maui, trying to decide if any of them was a possibility.

Ace Atwood, Holly Gruen, Richard Carrera, Bryce Bolt, Alice Feeley…Considering the fact that most of them are suspects in Marnie Burton's murder, I thought grimly, they're hardly candidates for adopting her cat.

Then, in a sudden flash of inspiration, I thought of someone else, somebody whose character I'd never considered the least bit questionable.

I pulled into the first parking lot I spotted and dialed information. Not surprisingly, it turned out there were several listings for
Nelson
on Maui. I jotted them down, figuring I'd try them all until I located Karen.

When I punched in the first one, it rang a dozen times without anyone answering. I moved on to the next number on my list. As soon as I heard a pleasant “Hello?” I knew I'd found her.

“Hi, Karen,” I began. “This is Jessie Popper. We met a few days ago at the
Dispatch
office. You gave me Holly Gruen's phone number, remember?”

“Of course I remember,” she replied. With a little laugh, she added, “Seems to me I also gave you a lot of advice. All of it completely unsolicited, as I recall.”

“It was very helpful,” I assured her. “But I'm calling about something else entirely. I'm trying to find a home for Marnie's cat. His name is Moose, and he's very sweet. I wondered if you might be willing to take him.”

“Sure, why not? I've already got a cat, so adding a second simply means putting out another food bowl. Why don't you bring him over this afternoon? Grab a pen and I'll give you my address….”