Right from the Gecko (3 page)

“You must feel awful about that.”

She shrugged. “I'm still hoping they'll come around once they find out what a success I've become.” Grinning, she added, “That is, once I actually manage to
become
a success. In the meantime, at least I've got my boyfriend, Ace, to keep me from getting too lonely.”

“
Ace?
Are you serious?” I hadn't meant to sound stuffy, but somehow the words just popped out that way.

Fortunately, she laughed. “I get the same reaction from everybody. It's not as if he's some card shark or something. Actually, he has his own business. Bodywork. He's really good at it. The best on Maui, in fact. And his real name is Ashton—Ashton Atwood. But when that actor got so famous, he couldn't stand being teased anymore, so he started telling people his name was Ace. Of course, it turns out he gets teased just as much.”

An expression of alarm suddenly crossed her face. “What time is it?”

I glanced at my watch. “Almost six.”

“Oh, no! Ace is gonna kill me!” Quickly she added, “Not that he's not absolutely crazy about me, but he's got a bit of a temper. I'm supposed to meet him for dinner tonight, and he goes ballistic if I'm even, like, five minutes late.”

I raised my eyebrows but kept my opinions to myself.

“I've got to rush home to shower and change,” she went on. “Ace picked a really romantic restaurant, this quiet, out-of-the-way place in Kula he really likes. We go there all the time. He said he has something important to talk to me about tonight.” She grinned impishly. “I think I can guess what it might be.”

If this boyfriend of yours pops the question, I thought, I hope you handle it a lot better than I did.

She stood up, then grimaced and sat down again, as if she'd been hit with an unexpected jolt of pain. She reached up and gingerly touched the back of her head. “Ugh, my head feels like a volcano that's about to erupt.”

“Can I get you anything?” I asked anxiously.

“I've got some Advil in my bag—if you don't mind looking through all my stuff to find it. It's in a little cosmetics bag with flowers on it.”

I looked at her black canvas tote bag and grimaced. It was so big that finding anything in there was guaranteed to be a challenge. But I rummaged around until I found the small flowered bag, hidden beneath her tape recorder, cell phone, pens, makeup, notebooks, manila file folders, Band-Aids, and chewing-gum wrappers.

“Thanks.” Dutifully, she downed the two Advil I retrieved for her, gulping down the entire glass of water. “Boy, I can't believe that idiot John Irwin actually decked me. Jeez, what a creep! You'd think a governor's aide would be a little more civilized!”

“I'm sure it was an accident,” I assured her.

Marnie's blue eyes widened. “I'm not.”

I tried to hide my confusion. “Surely you don't think someone from the governor's office would do something like that on purpose!”

“Are you kidding? One of the first lessons I learned in the newspaper business is that things are rarely what they seem,” she insisted. “Especially in Hawaii.”

As if she'd suddenly remembered something, she raised her hand to her throat. “Oh, great.”

“What's wrong?”

“My favorite necklace. It's gone!”

“I saw it break when you fell. Beads went flying everywhere.”

“They weren't beads. The necklace was made of little shells, dyed these really cool colors. A native woman who lives out in the middle of nowhere makes them. They sell them in Lahaina in a shop that specializes in crafts made by local artists. That necklace was one of the first things I bought myself when I got here. Darn!”

“I noticed you wearing it,” I commented, sharing her regret. “It was really pretty.”

“It matched these earrings—see?” She pointed at the cluster of tiny shells, dyed pastel colors, bobbing below her earlobes. “Oh, well. Maybe I can get her to make me another one. Whenever I get the money, that is.”

She began rummaging through her big black bag, pulling out one thing after another before finally retrieving her tape recorder. It wasn't much larger than the palm of her hand. “I hope this stupid thing fared better,” she muttered, grimacing. “I've been having enough trouble with it lately, even before I dropped it. I finally figured out I have to check it each time to make sure it's behaving.”

She flicked a button and the sound of her own voice emerged from the tiny machine.
“…feel the arrival of a big biotech firm on an island that most people consider paradise could be seen as a major step in the wrong direction?”

She clicked it off and stuck it back in her bag, muttering, “I got the question on tape. Too bad I didn't get an answer. But at least this stupid thing is working. I'm supposed to meet with my secret source later on tonight.”

“Secret source?” I repeated, not sure if she was serious.

Apparently she was. “Cool, huh?” she replied, grinning. “It turns out that's something reporters really do. Just like in the movies!

“Anyhow,” she said as she stood, smoothing her skirt and running her fingers through her short, spiky hair, “I've got to get out of here.”

I had to admit, she looked a lot better than she had twenty minutes earlier.

“I owe you,” Marnie said. “If there's anything I can do for you while you're here…”

“I think I'm set, but you should try to take it easy for a few hours.”

“Thanks. Maybe I could take you on a tour later this week,” she offered. “You know, give you an insider's look at Maui that most tourists don't get to see.”

“That sounds great,” I told her sincerely. “Let me talk to my boyfriend, Nick. Between the conference and what's supposed to be a romantic vacation for the two of us, we've got a lot of activities to squeeze in over the next few days. But it would be fun if we could work something out.”

“Here's my card,” she said, reaching into her purse. “It's got all my phone numbers on it.”

The business card she handed me read,
Marnie Burton, Reporter,
Maui Dispatch
,
followed by the newspaper's Kaohu Street address, phone number, and, in the lower left corner, her cell phone number. I stuck it into my pocket, then gave her one of mine.

“Thanks.” As she dropped my card into her giant tote bag, she caught sight of her watch and cried, “Now I've
really
got to get out of here. 'Bye, Jessica. Thanks for everything. It was great meeting you. And I can't wait to show you around Maui!”

The room seemed strangely silent after she left. I realized that Marnie Burton was one of those people who was always surrounded by a whirlwind of energy. Just talking to her was exhausting.

Still, Nick's arrival five minutes later, his eyes glowing in a way that can only come from a shopping victory, immediately reenergized me. That, and the colors in his flashy aloha shirt.

“Is this shirt cool or what?” he asked, holding out his arms to model it for me.

“Way cool. The other law students will love it.”

Wearing a satisfied smile, he flopped down on the bed, his arms folded beneath his head. “Right now, law school feels very far away. I'm much more interested in the
wahine
standing in front of me. That would be you.”

“
Wahine,
huh?” I countered. “Have I just been insulted?”

“It's the Hawaiian word for woman.”

“In that case, I'm guilty as charged. Come here. You're too far away, you…you…What's the Hawaiian word for man?”

“Kane.”

As I sat down on the bed next to him, he rolled away to make room. And promptly let out a yelp.

“Ouch! Hey, what's this?” Nick asked. From underneath his khaki-covered butt, he pulled out a brown mailing envelope. The initials
MB
were handwritten in pencil on the front.

“Oh, no. That's probably Marnie's,” I said. “She must have left it here by accident. It probably fell out of her giant tote bag, either while she was going through it or when I was scrounging around for Advil.”

As I took the envelope from him, I saw it was sealed. It felt as if there was an audiocassette tape inside, but I wasn't about to violate Marnie's privacy by opening it to check. Whatever was in that envelope certainly wasn't any of my business. “It might be important. I'd better call her and tell her she left it here.”

“How's her head? Is she okay?”

“She's fine. In fact, I have a feeling her forgetfulness has more to do with her personality than her head injury.”

I retrieved her business card from my pocket and dialed her cell phone number from my cell phone. According to my calculations, she'd barely had time to leave the hotel. So I was surprised that I got her voice mail.

“Hey, Marnie, it's Jessie Popper,” I recorded after the beep. “You left a brown envelope in my room. I didn't open it, but it feels like there's something plastic in it—maybe an audiotape. When you get this message, call me at the Royal Banyan Hotel or on my cell phone. The number's on the card I gave you. I can get it back to you whenever we get together—or if you need it sooner, just stop by the room and knock. It's room six twenty-six. Catch you later!”

After I ended the call, I looked around, trying to find a safe place to put the envelope. The room was already pretty chaotic, between our clothes, guidebooks, snorkeling equipment, and the two bags of cinnamon macadamia nuts Nick had bought. I finally put it in the night-table drawer, right on top of the phone book that was stashed there.

“Now, where were we?” I murmured. I draped myself across the bed and nestled beside Nick. I had to admit that he looked pretty darned terrific in his Hawaiian shirt.

As far as I was concerned, it was time to get this romantic getaway under way.

By the next morning, I had made major inroads into reaching the highest possible level of aloha spirit. As I sat on the lanai in a pair of shorts and a tank top, scarfing down the coconut syrup–slathered macadamia nut waffles Nick and I had ordered from room service, concepts like worry and tension and hurrying seemed far away. Like Polarfleece, hot chocolate, and ice scrapers, they simply didn't belong here.

The setting also happened to be wonderfully romantic. There we were, just the two of us, sitting on a balcony overlooking a lush tropical garden. The golden sun was warm, and the balmy air was softened by a refreshing sea breeze. Birds chirped sweetly, and we spotted the occasional gecko basking in the sun or darting up the side of a palm tree. If this wasn't a genuine Adam and Eve moment, I didn't know what was.

Still, there were practicalities to consider.

I skimmed the conference catalog, trying to remind myself I was here in my capacity as a medical professional, rather than a beach bunny, by deciding which of the day's sessions to attend.

“There are some great talks scheduled today,” I said thoughtfully, “starting with one on feline AIDS this morning at nine. Hey, this one on exotics sounds really interesting. The afternoon has some good ones too. One on diabetic ketoacidosis, one on canine pancreatitis…look, here's one on inflammatory bowel disease. In fact, if you wouldn't mind occupying yourself pretty much all day, I'd be happy to go from one session to the next.”

I glanced over at Nick, who was wearing one of the fluffy white terry-cloth robes that came with the room.

He didn't seem to be listening. He was much too absorbed in the complimentary copy of the
Honolulu Star-Bulletin
we'd found outside our door.

“Maybe you could hit the beach,” I suggested. “Didn't your guidebook say there was good snorkeling right behind the hotel? You could—”

“Jess,” he interrupted, his tone strained, “isn't Marnie Burton the name of that reporter you met yesterday?”

“That's her,” I replied. “Why? What about her?”

“Whoa,” Nick breathed. “Bad news.”

He held up the newspaper so I could see the headlines. I gasped loudly as I read,
REPORTER FOUND MURDERED
.

Chapter
2

L
et me see that!” I cried, grabbing the newspaper out of Nick's hands. My head was spinning as I stared at the headline, trying to digest the meaning of the words.

I wasn't doing very well. So I forced myself to read the front-page article, hoping to make sense of it.

Kahului Bay, Maui, Hawaii——The body of Marnie Burton, a reporter for the
Maui Dispatch,
was discovered late last night on a remote stretch of beach on Kahului Bay, west of Kanaha Beach Park. The cause of death is not known at this time.

According to Detective Peter Paleka of the Maui Police Department's Homicide Squad, the victim was identified by her driver's license. Richard Carrera, Managing Editor of the
Maui
Dispatch,
verified Burton's identity.

Burton, 24, was a native of Ellensburg, Washington. She moved to Maui two years ago after earning a B.A. in Journalism from Central Washington University. She resided in the village of Paia.

“Marnie was a good kid and a fine reporter,” Carrera said. “This is an unbelievable tragedy.”

An investigation is ongoing, and anyone with any information is asked to contact the Maui Police Department's Homicide Squad at 555-5000.

“Wow, that's awful,” Nick said, shaking his head. “Imagine, you just met her yesterday and today she's on the front page.”

I didn't answer. I was too busy trying to stop the buzzing in my head.

And fighting the knot that had formed in my stomach. I felt sickened by the news. Marnie Burton had struck me as an enthusiastic, energetic young woman who was so full of life she seemed ready to burst. It was difficult to believe that anyone could want her dead.

Nick reached across the table and took my hand. “Are you okay, Jess?”

“I will be, as soon as I get over the shock.”

“Maybe I should forget about the beach today. I could stay around here and—”

“No, go ahead. And I'll go to the conference, the way we planned.” I forced a sad smile. “It's not as if there's anything we can do. Besides, I barely knew Marnie.”

I wasn't really in the mood to throw myself into learning about new developments in veterinary medicine. But I figured going to a few sessions would provide a good distraction. And at the moment, a good distraction was exactly what I longed for.

It turned out that spending the day thinking about medicine really was the perfect cure. I started with the session on feline AIDS, then moved on to the talk on treating exotic animals. As soon as I started taking notes, I realized the whole issue of exotics would make a terrific topic for
Pet People,
the television show I'd recently started hosting on a Long Island cable TV station. While a lot of people consider adopting animals like iguanas, monkeys, flying squirrels, ferrets, and even poison dart frogs, the reality is that it's not a very good idea to keep them as pets.

The speaker reinforced what I already knew: that exotics don't generally do well living among people, because it's invariably difficult to meet all their needs. Those that do survive tend to live long lives, and if their owners tire of them, there's no good place to bring them. The most common “solution,” setting them loose, is cruel to the animal and dangerous to the community. Another negative is that exotics often carry bacteria that are harmful to humans and can transmit chlamydia, hepatitis A, ringworm, and even tuberculosis. Then there's the simple fact that owning certain exotics is illegal. I took pages of notes, pleased that I'd be able to spread the speaker's message far beyond the walls of the room.

Over lunch, I caught up with a bunch of people I'd gone to vet school with and hadn't seen since graduating. It was fun filling one another in on the details of our lives over the past decade and exchanging news about other classmates we'd kept in touch with.

The afternoon was filled with more sessions, back to back. Yet through it all, the terrible thing that had happened to Marnie Burton was never far from my mind. A despondent feeling hung over me like a headache I just couldn't shake.

By the end of the day, I was ready for a break. The last session ended a bit early, which gave me time to shower before Nick got back from the beach.

I stood beneath the spray of steaming water, relishing the sensation of my muscles relaxing. It was as if all the tensions of the day were gurgling down the drain. I stayed in much longer than I needed to, reluctant to leave such a welcome refuge.

As I stepped out and began drying off, I was already looking forward to the evening ahead. I pictured Nick and me at a beachside restaurant, holding hands and gazing out past the flickering tiki torches at the dramatic Maui sunset….

And then,
bang.
I was so startled by the noise that I smashed my shinbone against the edge of the tub. But from the way the wall behind the sink vibrated, I realized it was nothing more threatening than the door of the hotel room slamming shut.

“Nick?” I called, wrapping a big white towel around me. I opened the bathroom door and poked my head out. “Nick, is that you?”

Silence. Puzzled, I stepped out into the foyer—and immediately felt a rush of fear.

Someone's been in here, I thought, my heartbeat racing.

I surveyed the room, anxious to make certain the intruder was gone. Nobody was there.

Next, I went over to the door and debated whether or not to open it. I finally did—about two inches. No one stood lurking outside the room, at least as far as I could tell. I opened the door further and looked up and down the corridor.

Empty. Not a soul in sight. Not even a cleaning cart.

You're imagining this, I thought, closing the door firmly, because of what happened to Marnie.

But I still didn't manage to convince myself. I walked around the room slowly, studying each detail and trying to decide whether my impression that something was out of sorts was valid—or simply the result of being edgy because of the murder.

The closet door is open, but you probably left it that way yourself, I thought, determined to convince myself that I was imagining things. The same went for those two dresser drawers. And Nick must have dragged the suitcase and my beige canvas tote bag out of the closet before he left this morning and I just didn't notice it before.

Even so, I searched the room. The fact that I still wasn't sure if I was just imagining things made me all the more anxious to figure out if anything was missing. The contents of my pocketbook appeared to be intact. All my cash was still in my wallet, along with my credit cards and driver's license.

Nick's wallet, which he'd left in the back pocket of the jeans lying at the bottom of the closet, was also untouched. The little bit of jewelry I'd brought along was safe in the top drawer of the dresser. The same went for my watch, which was still sitting on the night table.

And then I focused on the top of the dresser. Or more accurately, I realized that something was
missing
from the top of the dresser.

The sealed brown envelope that contained my conference materials.

I stood frozen, staring at the big empty space where it should have been, since that was precisely the spot in which I'd deposited it the day before. In fact, I remembered noticing it as I undressed for my shower. I'd tossed my T-shirt next to it on the dresser, thinking I really should take five minutes to look through it, decide how much of its contents was worth lugging home, and throw the rest out.

The T-shirt was now lying on the floor in a heap.

A sick feeling lodged itself in the pit of my stomach as the entire scenario began to unfold in my mind. While I was in the shower, someone had broken in, taken the envelope, and hightailed it out of there, slamming the door on the way out.

But I was also confused. Why on earth would somebody want to steal my registration packet?

As the most likely answer came to me, a wave of heat traveled through my entire body. Within seconds, the room began feeling uncomfortably warm, even though the air-conditioning was turned way up.

The missing envelope looked a lot like the one Marnie had left behind—and it clearly contained an audiotape, just as Marnie's did. What if the intruder had taken what he or she thought was the envelope the eager young reporter had left here in my hotel room?

That's crazy! I insisted to myself. You're
really
getting carried away this time.

But in my head, I replayed the voice-mail message I'd left on Marnie's cell phone shortly before she was murdered. In it, I said she'd left a brown envelope behind, mentioned that I thought there was an audiocassette inside, and given the name of my hotel and the number of my hotel room.

I'd practically left a road map for anyone who was interested in getting hold of the cassette that was in Marnie's envelope.

I dashed over to the night table and pulled open the drawer. Sure enough, Marnie's envelope was exactly where I'd left it, right on top of the phone book. I took it out and, holding my breath, slit open the top with the plastic pen I found next to the phone. Just as I'd suspected, there was an audiocassette inside. And nothing else.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, clutching my towel tightly around me. My thoughts raced as I tried to cling to the idea that I was simply imagining the whole thing. Frankly, I wasn't having much success.

When I heard a key card being inserted into the lock, my heart began to pound wildly.

“Nick?” I called hopefully.

“One and the same,” he replied as he tromped in, his damp hair matted around his face and his mask and fins tucked under his arm. Instead of the skintight Speedo he'd worn the last time he and I were on Maui—a garment I'd teased him about nonstop—he was wearing a baggy boxer-style jobbie that, if you used your imagination, made him look like a surfer dude. It wasn't much more dignified, but at least it was considerably more modest. “The guidebook was right. The snorkeling behind the hotel is fabulous! I had a terrific day on the beach. But I've got to take a shower before we—”

His expression suddenly changed. “What's wrong, Jess? Your face is almost as white as that towel.”

Somberly, I said, “Something really awful just happened. While I was in the shower, somebody broke into our room.”

“Oh, my God!” he cried. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” I assured him.

“What did they take? Our cash? Our credit cards?”

“Our money and credit cards are untouched. So is my jewelry.”

Nick glanced around the room and frowned. “If your cash and credit cards are safe, how can you be sure somebody even broke in? I mean, look at what a mess this place is. We weren't exactly careful about unpacking. We just threw our shirts and underwear into a couple of drawers.”

“Because something
is
missing: the packet of booklets I got when I registered for the veterinary conference.”

He looked at me as if I'd just sprung a couple of additional heads. “Why would anybody take that?”

“A very good question, and there's only one answer: because they
thought
they were taking the envelope Marnie Burton left here yesterday. Especially since both envelopes had an audiocassette inside. You didn't even have to open mine to know that, since it was so stuffed you could feel the tape from the outside. Whoever took it must have grabbed the envelope, felt the tape, and run off without bothering to check inside.”

Nick now looked as if I'd sprung five or six more heads. “Jess, I don't know where this business about Marnie Burton and the envelope she left here is coming from. No offense, but it sounds kind of off-the-wall. That aside, I'm sure if you explain to the people at the registration desk that you misplaced the conference materials they gave you, they'd be happy to—”

“But I
didn't
misplace them! Somebody broke into our hotel room and took that envelope! And once they figure out that they didn't get what they wanted, they might be back.”

By this point, Nick's expression made it clear that he was exercising all the patience he possessed—and that he was on the verge of running out. “Look, it sounds as if you really believe that's what happened. But think about it, Jess. How likely is it that someone would go to all the trouble of breaking into a hotel room—in broad daylight, no less, while somebody was clearly in the bathroom, taking a shower—then steal nothing besides an envelope? You said yourself that our cash and other valuables were untouched.”

I didn't answer. I was too busy ruminating about the obvious answer: because there was something on Marnie's audiotape that somebody wanted to keep a secret.

Maybe even something worth killing over.

“I'm going to stop at the front desk and have our room changed,” I told Nick soberly. “And then I think I'd better talk to the police.”