Sleeping with Anemone (33 page)

“I sure do. I don’t suppose the driver mentioned Bloomers Flower Shop to the person at Tom’s, did he?”

“That, I couldn’t tell you. Well, have a nice day.”

I pulled the heavy back door shut, thinking about what Marco had suggested—that Mr. Mikala, the supplier, might be involved in the theft. Yet when I last spoke with the man, he sounded as baffled about the brooch being in the shipment as I was. Had he lied to me?

I decided to pick up the phone and ask him.

I explained to Mr. Mikala what the antiques dealer had said about the real brooch, then asked again if he knew how the piece I’d found got into the box. He apologized profusely for my trouble and said he’d read about the theft in the papers. He also said he might have an idea how the brooch could have ended up in that shipment.

In mid-January, he hired a nineteen-year-old man to work in his warehouse, but within a week, other employees complained that the young man was involved with a gang of thieves. They were afraid of him and said they thought the gang was working through him to smuggle stolen goods out of the country.

To play it safe, Mr. Mikala called the police, who then decided to plant an undercover man in the warehouse. Unfortunately, the young man failed to show up for work the next day. The following week, Mr. Mikala read in the newspaper that the young man had been stabbed in the neck while at a bar. No one had seen the murderer; the police had no suspects; and the murder weapon had not been found.

It sounded eerily like Hudge’s murder.

“I don’t know whether this young man was involved in the brooch theft,” Mr. Mikala said, “but that’s my only explanation for you. And again, I apologize for your trouble. I hope we don’t lose your business.”

I assured him it wouldn’t affect our relationship. As I was about to sign off, I spotted Grace’s note about the salesman and his evening reception. Just out of curiosity I asked Mr. Mikala what he knew about Aloha Florals, Ltd.

“Aloha Florals?” the supplier asked. “They went out of business five years ago.”

“Five years ago? Is it possible they started up their business again?”

“I would have heard something. I knew the owner well. His business closed when he passed away.”

Something didn’t smell right. “A salesman claiming to work for Aloha Florals has been trying to get me to buy flowers from him. He even left a price list.” I searched through a stack of papers on my desk, but didn’t see it, so I rooted through my purse and found the smooth flashlight. “I can’t find the list at this moment, but his business card says, ‘Aloha Florals, Limited, Maui,’ and the man’s name is Keahi Kana.”

“Keahi Kana? That’s quite an interesting name, and definitely of Hawaiian origin.”

“What makes it interesting?”

“Kana is a Maui demigod who is said to have been able to take the form of a rope so he could stretch from one island to the next. Keahi is the Hawaiian word for flame. Loosely translated, his name would mean a god of fire or flame, although a very minor god.”

Instantly, my thoughts went back to what the antiques dealer had told Marco.
Some of these middlemen are the actual thieves. They can be notoriously wealthy and are often extremely dangerous. The FBI is working on a case like that in Chicago right now, looking for a man known as the Flame.

I rotated the flashlight in my hand. “Mr. Mikala, have you ever heard of a man known as the Flame?”

“It’s not familiar to me. Why?”

“I’m wondering if the Flame and Keahi Kana are one and the same.”

“I couldn’t begin to guess. Would you like me to look up Aloha Florals in the phone book to be sure it hasn’t reopened?”

“Thanks, but I can do that on the computer. I’ve taken enough of your time. You’ve been very helpful, Mr. Mikala.”

I hung up the phone, toying with the flashlight. The man who’d left it had spoken with Grace and Lottie on the phone, and Lottie in person, yet neither had reported anything unusual. Still, because of what Mr. Mikala had said, my gut was telling me to be wary.

In the shop, Lottie was waiting on customers, so I pulled her aside to whisper, “The salesman who left the flashlight, was he Hawaiian?”

“I’m not sure what a Hawaiian is supposed to look like, but if I had to guess, I’d say yes. Nice-looking guy, well dressed and polite, kind of short, though, but with these intense eyes—”

I thanked her and dashed back to the computer to do a search for Aloha Florals. I tried two different search engines, including the one Reilly gave me, yet couldn’t find a single listing. In a broader search, I found a link to an obituary in a Maui paper for the longtime owner of Aloha Florals. There were also earlier mentions of the company, but nothing after the man’s death.

What was going on?

I took out a sheet of paper and began to make a list, hoping a pattern would emerge. I wrote down everything I could think of, whether it appeared to tie in or not, beginning from the day Lottie unpacked the orchids.

I put down the pen and picked up Grace’s message again:
Mr. Keahi Kana is giving a reception for clients Friday evening from seven to ten p.m., at the New Chapel Inn and Suites. RSVP required.

Why didn’t a major orchid supplier know that Aloha Florals was back in business? If Mr. Kana was a legitimate salesman, why wasn’t his company listed on the Internet? If Mr. Kana was the Flame, was this reception a trap designed to lure me to the hotel? How did he hope to get the brooch from me once I was there?

So many questions—and only one person with answers.

I turned the flashlight over to see the number; then, taking a deep breath, I picked up the phone and dialed. My call was answered with a smooth “Aloha.”

“Same to you, Mr. Kana. This is Abby Knight, from Bloomers Flower Shop. I’m RSVPing to your invitation.”

“You’re a difficult person to reach, Ms. Knight. I hope you’re responding in the positive.”

My heart began to race. “Yes. I’d love to join you.”

“Marvelous. I shall put your name on the list. Suite 212.”

“Thanks. And just out of curiosity, may I ask how long your company has been in business?”

“I can guess why you’re asking. You are aware that the original Aloha Florals, which started back in 1970, closed after its owner died. It has now reopened under new management as of the first of this year.”

He was certainly prepared. “Do you have a Web site, so I can get more information?”

“Unfortunately, our Web site isn’t up yet. I’d be happy to provide any information you need this evening.”

“Did I understand correctly that you’re leaving town tomorrow?”

“Yes, Ms. Knight. Tomorrow my work here will be done. I look forward to meeting you this evening in person.”

I hung up the phone and realized my hands were damp from nerves. I wiped them on a paper towel and phoned Marco.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he said, “I’m just heading out to Tom’s Green Thumb. Did you make that phone call?”

“Yes, and our focus has been wrong, Marco. The kidnappings and thefts aren’t connected to Uniworld and Nils Raand. They’re connected to the brooch.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?”

I filled Marco in on the details of my conversations with Joe the UPS guy, Mr. Mikala, and Keahi Kana, and ended by reading him my list. “What do you think?”

“That you nailed it. Great work, Abby.”

“Thanks.” I knew I was beaming.

“But you’re not meeting this man tonight.”

Sayeth Emperor Marco.

“Actually, I was thinking of both of us meeting him.”

“No way in hell, Abby. If this Kana is responsible for Hudge’s death and Harding’s beating, and the FBI is looking for him, it’s too dangerous.”

“I know that, but how about listening to my idea before you make a ruling, Judge?”

“Not funny.”

Wasn’t meant to be. “Just listen to my plan, okay? We go to the hotel and ask the hotel manager about Mr. Kana. He’d be able to tell us whether Kana’s entertained any clients, or had food sent up for tonight—that kind of thing. I’m sure he’ll cooperate if you flash your PI badge. And if there aren’t any red flags, we hang around outside Kana’s suite to see who else is attending his little soiree. If it seems legit, we go inside and meet the man. If we don’t see anyone else, we call Reilly to let him know what we think the man is up to. How does that sound?”

“I’ll agree to it on the condition we let Reilly know our plans before we go, so he can have some plainclothes cops on hand.”

“Fine. As long as Kana doesn’t spot them.”

“I’ll call Reilly now and set it up.”

“Great. I’m going to head over to my parents’ house to pick up the brooch.”

“Wait for me to get back. I’ll take you.”

“I’d rather get it into the safe at your bar as soon as possible, Marco. I have this uneasy feeling about the brooch being there. Lottie can drive me over in the minivan. Besides, don’t you have to meet your mom at your apartment?”

“It won’t take long to get her settled. I should be there by four o’clock.”

Was there a word stronger than overly optimistic? Because I knew what would happen. His mom would want to cook something for him and, since he was a good son, well, who knew when he’d get back? In the meantime, I could pick up the brooch and take it down to the bar. But if I kept arguing, we’d end up fighting, and I didn’t want that. “Okay, I’ll wait.”

I hung up the phone and picked up the flashlight to drop it in my purse hanging on the back of my chair. But the silky light slipped out of my hand and fell to the floor. The case split neatly in half and a shiny, dime-sized battery rolled under the desk. I got down on my knees and fished it out, then tried to put the pieces back together, but there was already a battery inside.

I examined the tiny device more closely and saw minute holes in the cover, reminding me of a flattened earbud. I turned it over and saw that it had been glued inside the case.

Then I realized what I was holding. It was a bug. Someone had been listening to me—and was probably listening to me at that moment.

My heart began to thud with sickening intensity as my thoughts raced back over everything I’d said while the flashlight was nearby—my conversation with Mr. Mikala, with Keahi Kana himself, and with Marco—
mentioning that the brooch was at my parents’ house.

Dear God. What had I done? What if Kana went to their house to get it?

But wait. He didn’t know where they lived. He didn’t even know their names, and he’d have to go through a lot of Knights in the phone book to find them. If he was still listening, I could keep him from getting that brooch.

I dialed Marco’s number, but it went to his voice mail so I pretended he had answered. “Hey, Marco, it’s me. I’d feel better if you called Sergeant Reilly and asked him to pick up the brooch now. You will? Great. Okay. Love you, too.”

I hung up and quietly wrapped the bug in a tissue, then carried it to one of the walk-in coolers and left it beside a bucket of daisies with a sticky note that said,
Bug! Give to cops. Don’t talk!
Then I pulled on my coat and ran to find Lottie.

She was helping a woman and her mother select funeral flowers. Grace was serving coffee to a parlor full of people. I couldn’t ask either one to go with me. I glanced at the clock. It was two thirty—hours until Marco would show up.

I dashed back to the workroom and grabbed the keys to the minivan.