Dying for a Daiquiri (19 page)

“Yeah, just a little shell-shocked,” I replied. “What does Dave want to do?”

“I’m going to pick him up as soon as the police finish processing his paperwork. He can spend the night at my place,” Steve said. “It’s not like Regan has been all that interested in springing him.”

Unfortunately, that was too true. Why couldn’t my sister-in-law put as much effort into her marriage as she did her job?

Steve continued. “Besides, Dave has some information he wants to share with you. Says his little sister can probably out-detect the cops on this island.”

Aw shucks, I thought, blushing at the compliment.

“I’ll be busy with our sunset sail tonight, but you and Dave can talk at my condo. Just try to keep it to yourself. He’s been worried about the stress and its impact on your mother.”

I agreed and hung up the phone. Now all I had to do was find an excuse why I needed to be alone with my brother tonight.

* * *

Getting time alone with Dave proved to be an easy task. Liz discovered the hotel offered free entertainment every Friday night. Hula addict Stan was delighted to watch the show with Brian and Liz. Mother, relieved that Dave was free, was exhausted from the strain of the last few days. She had no issue with her offspring spending some time together.

I grabbed the keys for Dave’s car and headed down the barren lava-rock-lined highway toward Kailua town. I realized this was the first time I’d been by myself in eight days. I love my mother and my friends, but it was nice to have a few minutes of down time to reflect on the week’s events.

I glanced out the car window at the proclamations of love spelled out on the Hawaiian version of graffiti––white coral set on black lava rocks. Did local couples replace the stones when they replaced their lovers? When my husband replaced me three years ago, I was a total wreck. I had no self-confidence or self-esteem. But I’d bounced back. My banking career had taken off and I’d even begun dating.

Okay, the dating thing hadn’t gone all that well. And my self-image still needed a little work. But I felt good about myself finally, and what I had to offer someone in a future relationship. Keeping a marriage alive seemed to be difficult for everyone, my brother included. It’s one thing to suspect your husband or wife is having an affair.

It’s quite another to suspect your spouse is a killer.

I arrived at Steve’s condominium just before sunset. He lived in an older project, but based on the number he supplied, his unit was only steps from the ocean. The elevator creaked its way to the fourth floor. I turned to the left and strolled down the concrete walkway until I reached Steve’s unit.

Dave must have heard my sandals click-clacking because he swung the door open before I had time to knock. His eyes looked bleary and were almost redder than his beard. He held a bottle of beer in one hand while he hugged me with the other.

I noted a typical Hawaiian framed welcome on the wall requesting that all shoes be removed. That was fine with me. My bunions could use a break from their leather prison.

“Thanks for coming,” Dave said. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’m driving so I’d better not have any alcohol. How about a soda?”

Dave grabbed a can of cola out of the refrigerator. I peeked inside, curious to know what a bachelor’s refrigerator looked like. Steve had it stocked with fruits, veggies, yogurt, beer and soda. No wonder the ship captain was in such great shape.

I followed Dave out onto the lanai where we caught the last flickers of the setting sun. As the ball of fire plummeted into the watery depths, I thought I saw a lime-colored burst of light on the horizon.

“Wow, is that a green flash?”

“Yeah, as long as there aren’t any low clouds on the horizon, you can see them frequently. Whenever I have the time to actually watch a sunset, I think how amazing it is that I live in paradise.” Dave picked up his long-necked bottle, guzzled half of it then wiped his lips with his fist. “Although lately it’s more like
Paradise Lost
.”

I sat in a beige cushioned chair, and Dave flopped down in a matching chair on the other side of the glass-topped table.

“So what’s going on?” I sipped on my soda then placed the can on the table.

Dave described his night in jail. Only one other guy had landed in there, and they’d placed him in another cell, so Dave hadn’t been saddled with a cellmate. He knew he wasn’t guilty, so even before his attorney showed up, he’d waived his rights and answered the detectives’ questions as best he could. It turned out he was able to provide them with new information regarding some of Keiki’s recent activities.

“What kind of activities?” I asked. “And why didn’t you tell me, or the police, sooner?”

“Remember, when the detectives originally interviewed me, I was traumatized that Keiki died due to what I thought was my negligence. Then when they arrested Regan for murder, all I could think about was getting my wife out of jail.”

“And hours after Regan was released yesterday, you were arrested.”

Dave took another slug of beer. “Those metal cots in jail are perfect. Not for sleeping, but for pondering what you did wrong. Or in my case, wondering what information I might possess about the killer.”

I waited for Dave to share at his own pace, although I had to restrain myself from kicking his ankle to hurry up.

“I was seeing Keiki,” he said.

Damn, I said to myself, as I knocked my soda all over the table. Dave rushed inside and brought out a wet sponge and a few paper towels.

“You’re just as clumsy as you were thirty-plus years ago.” He shook his head as he wiped up my sticky mess.

Just as he’d cleaned up after me three decades earlier. The French would say, «Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.» This American would say, “Once a klutz, always a klutz.”

“Remind me to remove any liquids the next time I reveal something important,” he said. I started to respond, but he shushed me. “And I need to be more specific. I did meet with Keiki twice outside the restaurant, but I was not––let me repeat–– not having sex with that woman.”

Gee, where had I heard that phrase before?

But my brother continued to look directly at me. No flinching. No twitching. He had nothing to gain and far more to lose if he lied to me or to the police.

“You heard Keiki used to date a guy her own age named Joey?” he asked. When I nodded, he continued. “She told me she started seeing someone else, a man with more wealth and sophistication than her former boyfriend.”

“Do you know who she started dating?” Finally, a clue to the guy’s identity.

Dave shook his head. “Nope, she didn’t share his name and I really didn’t care.”

I sighed. Typical man. No nose for news or for gossip.

“What she did share,” he said, “was that Joey took it real hard when she dumped him. I guess he told a few friends he was devastated enough to kill himself. Then he had that fatal accident at Koffee Land.”

“Several people think he jumped off that zip-line tower on purpose. That it wasn’t an accident.” I said. “I saw it today. It’s pretty high.”

“It could have been suicide or an accident. But Keiki thought it was something else.” Dave sipped his beer and stared out at the horizon.

“What else could it have been other than suicide or an accident? That only leaves––” Dave’s eyes locked on mine as I realized what the third alternative might be.

“Murder? Keiki thought someone murdered Joey?” My head was spinning and I hadn’t even touched a drop of alcohol. “Why? And who?”

He shrugged. “Why and who are both big questions now that she’s dead. Joey called Keiki the night before he fell off the tower. Said he wanted her advice on something. At first, she thought he might be looking for a way to get back together, but he convinced her he was worried about something going on at Koffee Land.”

“Did they have a chance to talk?” I asked.

“No. Joey died before they got together. She originally thought his death was a tragic accident like everyone else. Then a couple of people like his brother, Timmy, claimed Joey killed himself because of her. After Joey’s phone call, she knew he wouldn’t have committed suicide before they talked.”

“Did she tell the police about her concerns?”

“No, she was still thinking it through, trying to figure it all out. She never mentioned any names, but she said it could have a huge impact on someone important to her. After sleeping on it last night, or rather
not
sleeping on it, I mentioned our conversation to the police. It turns out Joey’s accident is still an open case. Anytime someone dies in an unexplained incident, the police keep the file open until it’s resolved to their satisfaction.”

“So we could be looking at a double murder,” I clarified.

“We?” He lifted an eyebrow at me.

“Hey, you’re the one who invited me over. By the way, what is the deal with you and Regan? Why are you spending the night here at Steve’s?”

“I honestly don’t know what’s going on with my wife. Three years ago, when we first put together plans for the restaurant, it was such an exciting adventure. It was risky putting all of our assets into a business with a ninety-percent failure rate, but Regan couldn’t have been more supportive. And the restaurant did well. Not enough income for the two of us to live on, but not bad for a new venture. She enjoys her profession and never complained about working to keep us afloat.”

“When did Regan start working at Koffee Land?”

“Their controller quit about six months ago. Walea told Regan about the opening after Victor mentioned it to his family. He said they were having a tough time recruiting someone. CPA’s don’t exactly grow on palm trees on this island. And it was a lot more money than she was making at her old accounting job.”

“Regan seems devoted to her boss and her job.”

“Yes, she is.” He rubbed his reddish beard that seemed to have acquired some new white hairs in the past few days. “Shortly after she started working there, she began putting in long hours. I couldn’t figure out if it was all work or if some play had crept into the equation. Have you met Ritz? He’s very smooth, very––”

“Very Cary Grant,” I acknowledged, “but just because she works for a handsome boss doesn’t mean Regan is having an affair with him.”

“I know, but in the last few months we’ve drifted apart. I was afraid to question her because I wasn’t sure I wanted to know if something was going on between her and Ritz. When Keiki approached me about her problem, it felt good to be needed by someone.”

“Especially someone as gorgeous as Keiki.”

Dave lifted his arms, palms out, and threw me a sheepish grin. “Hey, middle-aged guys need an ego boost every now and then, especially when their forehead is expanding an inch a day. And I have to admit, I was fairly certain Regan and I were headed down the highway to divorce court.”

I felt like whacking him on his ever-increasing forehead. Middle-aged men can be such putzes around beautiful young women. “Okay, so Keiki came to you regarding something going on at Koffee Land. Why wouldn’t she share the name of the person she was troubled about? Was she worried about their reputation? Or concerned that revealing the problem could result in some backlash to her?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It could be something involving her family. Or maybe she was working up the nerve to disclose something about my wife and Ritz.”

“I wonder why she thought Joey could have been murdered.” I nibbled on my lower lip. “He must have seen something while he was working on the zip-line.”

Dave nodded. “So the killer could be anyone. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it could even be my wife.”

Whether it was the breeze shifting from the north, or Dave’s comment, I suddenly shivered.

“Do you think Steve owns a light jacket I could wear?”

“Sure. He won’t mind if you help yourself.”

I opened the slider that led from the lanai into the master bedroom. It felt weird being alone in Steve’s room, which was exceptionally tidy. A dark forest-green quilt and oversized pillows covered his king-size bed. His three-drawer bureau was a beautiful piece of furniture, made out of teak wood and carved in an intricate pattern. Beautiful though it looked, the last place my fingers should be walking was through Steve’s drawers. I needed the answer to some serious questions, and they did not include whether the
Sea Jinx
captain wore boxers or briefs.

I pushed the mirrored door aside, hoping I could reach in and grab a windbreaker or sweater from his closet. The door jammed, leaving only a four-inch opening, not sufficient for me to reach inside the closet. I glanced down and noticed a piece of paper stuck between the door and the runner.

I reached for the paper, but it refused to budge. I yanked one more time and discovered the paper was actually a small photo. I brought the photo up to my face. Huh!

Why was Keiki smiling at me and what was she doing in Steve’s closet?

I raced back to the lanai.

“You didn’t find anything to wear?” Dave asked.

The goose bumps on my arms seemed to be increasing exponentially. I threw the photo at my brother.

“What are you––?” Dave stopped mid-sentence as he grasped the photo. “Where did you find this picture of Keiki?”

“On the floor of Steve’s closet.”

Dave stared at it for a full minute before responding. “Gosh she was lovely. But why would Steve have a photo of her?”

“I have no idea. Could Steve be the older man she was seeing?”

Dave flipped the photo back and forth in his hand as he gazed out at the ocean. “Man, I never saw that one coming. I know Steve dated someone a while ago, but he said he broke up with her.” Dave’s eyes met mine. “I had the impression he was becoming interested in you.”

I rested my chin on my palms. “I kind of thought so myself. Especially after that last boat ride.”

And especially after that burning kiss.

I sure do know how to pick them.