Murder at Dolphin Bay (Sand and Sea Hawaiian Mystery Book 1) (5 page)

After we ate Luke logged onto his computer and began to surf the Web. Unsurprisingly, there were quite a few photos of Cole; he was an aggressive businessman and investor who had a long history of spearheading large projects. If there was a photo of him with the woman we’d seen in the bar, locating it could very well be like finding a needle in a haystack.

I remembered the redheaded woman saying a beautiful brunette with fair skin had brought the drink to Cole on the beach. The woman in the bar was certainly beautiful, and she was a brunette. Could she be the same one?

I looked over Luke’s shoulder as he worked. At one point I recognized someone in a crowd. I pointed to the screen where the photo was displayed. “See that guy sitting in the back of the room?”

“The guy with the green shirt?”

“Yeah. I’ve seen him before somewhere. Do you know his name?”

“No. Why?”

I tried to remember where I’d seen the man. I really didn’t go a lot of places, so chances were it had been at the resort. The more I thought about it the more certain I was he was a semiregular guest. “I’ll need to confirm it with Kekoa, but I think that’s Patrick Anderson. He visits the resort almost every year. I didn’t put it together before, but I seem to remember Kekoa mentioning that he works as a planner for one of those big corporations with resorts all over the world. If he was photographed in the same room with Branson Cole maybe Patrick is the Anderson in Cole, Anderson, and Devlin.”

“I guess that makes sense. I suppose if Branson and Anderson were both interested in developing land in the area it makes sense they would both have visited and might have made a connection and decided to go into business together.”

“Can you print a photo of each man?”

“Yeah. Are you going to look into it further?”

“I am. I should probably get going now, but if you ever do find a photo of the woman we saw at the bar let me know. I have the photo I took with my phone, but finding her in some sort of context would help us identify her.”

“Are you going to talk to your brother about the meeting in the bar?”

“I’m not sure. If I tell him what I saw and how I saw it, he’ll probably figure out some way to put me under house arrest for my own safety. I think I’ll wait to see if we come up with something on our own.”

I rounded up Sandy and headed back to the condo. When I got there both Cam and Kekoa were out, so I grabbed my laptop and headed out onto the lanai. It was a warm evening with a gentle breeze and the thought of trying to work in the hot condo wasn’t appealing. I couldn’t help but notice Mr. B was home. Kekoa doesn’t think there’s anything odd going on with our neighbor beyond the fact that he likes his privacy, but I still have my doubts.

I Googled both Patrick Anderson and Branson Cole. Anderson was a lead planner at World Resort Corporation. The guy wasn’t one to enjoy the water or the beach during his stays with us, so I didn’t know him all that well, but I was sure Kekoa had chatted with him from time to time, so maybe she would know whether or not he was the Anderson in business with Cole, as I suspected.

Branson Cole dealt with many types of investments, but it seemed his specialty was finding backers for whatever company he was currently involved with. It made sense that he and Anderson would team up if there was interest in building a resort here on the island. Anderson had the background to plan and oversee the construction and Cole had the contacts to fund the project.

Which left Devlin. I didn’t have a first name, which made it pretty much impossible to find the guy. I thought it odd that CAD Development didn’t have some sort of flashy Web page with photos and bios of all three men. If they were trying to attract investors, as Luke indicated they were, it would seem a spectacular Web site would be a must. All I’d been able to find was a single-page site with the company’s logo and an architect’s rendering of the completed resort. There was an e-mail address, but I couldn’t find any other contact information—not an address or even a phone number. The whole thing was beyond weird as far as I was concerned.

I pulled up all the photos I could find of Branson Cole. Luke had said he was seeing a woman named Helena who lived on the island. Maybe if I could find her, I’d find the answers I was looking for.

I was trying to decide whether or not to head inside when Kekoa arrived. She asked what I was doing and I filled her in.

“I don’t know a lot about Mr. Anderson,” Kekoa said after I asked her just that question. “We always chat for a few minutes when he’s checking in or out; I ask him what project he’s working on and where he’s traveled since the last time he stayed with us. Our conversations are pretty superficial and brief. You might talk to Kimo, though. I think Mr. Anderson spends quite a bit of time in the bar when he’s staying with us, and you know how people tend to talk to bartenders.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. So how was dinner with your parents?”

“Tense.”

“They still fighting?”

Kekoa sighed. “More than ever. I really am beginning to suspect they might split up once Halina graduates high school in a few months.”

Unlike me, who’s the youngest in the family, Kekoa is the oldest. She has two sisters: Molina, who’s in college on the mainland, and Halina, who’s a senior in high school.

“Maybe once Halina graduates and they have some time to themselves they’ll work things out,” I offered, although I really didn’t believe that. Kekoa’s parents fought more than any couple I’d ever known.

“I doubt it. To be honest, I think it might be better for everyone if they did part. I find myself avoiding them so I won’t be put in the position of taking sides. I know Halina feels the same way. Like Molina, she plans to go to college on the mainland, and she’s made several references to the fact that she doesn’t plan to return to the islands after she graduates.”

I felt sorry for Kekoa. I knew her relationship with her sisters was important to her. My brothers made me nuts, but at least they were around to ruin my life. If Halina left too, Kekoa would be alone on the island. Well, not alone. She’d still have me and the other million or so people who live here, but you get what I mean.

“What’s your schedule for the next few weeks?” Kekoa asked.

“I’m on Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday for the next few months. Why?”

“I was hoping we’d have a day off together. I’d love to go shopping, but I’m on Sunday through Thursday for the next few weeks at least. Maybe I’ll take one of my vacation days on a Monday or Thursday.”

“Sounds like fun. I’ve been wanting to get some new shoes and the selection is a lot better on the south shore. We could do lunch at that place near the beach we ate at last time we were over there. Thursdays are usually best for me because I take Elva to bingo on Mondays. Why don’t you wait until I get this case solved? I’d hate to have you take a vacation day and then end up bailing on you.”

“You really think you can solve this before Jason does?”

“I do and I will.”

Do you know what happens to WSOs when it rains? They get wet. Don’t get me wrong: I spend half of my life wet, but when the moisture is pelting your body from above it isn’t quite the same rush as when it embraces and surrounds you as you slip into its depths.

“Mitch, are you there? It’s Lani. Over.”

I waited for Mitch to respond to my request to take a break; hopefully an extended one that would last until the torrential downpour that was drenching the island subsided. Not only was it raining but the air temperature had dropped and the wind had picked up quite a bit. In other words, I was not only wet, I was freezing.

“The beach is deserted and the only surfers left in the water are idiots who deserve what they get for trying to surf in a hurricane. Mitch? Can you read me?”

Chances were the radio had gotten enough water in it to short something out. I knew I was supposed to wait to be relieved from my post, but enough was enough. I put out the sign that indicated there was no WSO on duty, grabbed my backpack, and headed for the main office. With any luck Mitch would be around and I could take my break and get dried off.

“You look like a drowned rat,” Drake commented when I walked into the covered building.

“Where’s Mitch?”

“On a break.”

“A break?” I screeched. “I’m getting pelted out there and the guy can’t be bothered to call me in before heading out on his break?”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I was supposed to radio everyone to let them know to come in and wait out the storm. You were the last one on my list and I guess I forgot.”

I shot Drake a dirty look. Forgot my ass. There was no doubt in my mind that the idiot had left me out there on purpose. I wanted to express my rage, but the last time I’d done that I was the one who ended up with a suspension without pay. I simply turned and headed toward the locker room. There were some fights that weren’t worth having.

Once I’d taken a warm shower, dried off, and changed into shorts and a sweatshirt, I was feeling much better. I decided now was as good a time as any to talk to Kimo. It was early in the day, so hopefully the bar wouldn’t be crowded despite the rain. According to the schedule Kimo would be in the open-air beach bar, which was covered on the top but open on the sides. Unless the wind was blowing hard enough to affect the sheltered portion, the interior of the drinking establishment would be nice and dry.

I hurried through the rain to find a few patrons taking refuge inside the hut-shaped room, but not so many as to prevent Kimo and me from having a conversation.

“What can I getcha?” Kimo asked.

“Just water. I’m still on duty until someone tells me otherwise.”

“Heard the rain and wind is supposed to continue through the night. I’m kind of surprised Mitch hasn’t sent you home.”

“He wasn’t in the office when I checked in. Drake said something about a break, but it seems an odd time to take one, so I’m thinking something else is up. Anyway, I’m here to ask you about Patrick Anderson.”

“What about him?”

“Did you know he was part of the company that wants to build the resort around the bend along with Branson Cole and some guy named Devlin?”

“Pat might have mentioned it. Why do you ask?”

“I was just curious, given the fact that Mr. Cole died on our beach a few days ago under mysterious circumstances.”

“Thought the old guy had a heart attack.”

“Yeah, maybe. So what can you tell me about Anderson?”

Kimo shrugged. “Not much to tell. The man spent a lifetime working for another development company. A year or so ago, maybe less, someone named Devlin approached Pat and asked if he would be interested in teaming up to build a resort on the land down the beach. Of course Pat was interested. From what he said, designing his own resort had been a dream of his. Pat didn’t have a lot of money, but Devlin said they’d bring in a third partner with connections to wealthy investors.”

“That must have been Branson Cole.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So other than coming up with the idea, do you know what Devlin brought to the deal?”

“Relationships. According to Pat, Devlin knew the owner of the land where they wanted to build, and it was through that relationship that they were able to work out a deal. At least that’s what I was told.”

Okay, so Devlin had the idea and the relationships, Anderson had the knowhow to plan and build a resort, and Cole had the resources and connections to get the money. Made sense. What didn’t make sense was how this could have gotten Cole killed.

“I heard the project might be in trouble. It seems there’s a group of environmentalists that wants to block it.”

Kimo refilled my water. “Pat mentioned that was a risk. In fact, the environmentalists created problems in a lot of the places the resort he worked for built. He said the issues usually work themselves out, so he wasn’t too worried about it.”

“When was the last time you saw Anderson?”

“Guess about a month ago. He was here with a woman. A real looker.”

I showed Kimo the photo of the woman in the bar. “That her?”

“Yep, looks like.”

“Do you know her name?”

“Nope.”

I wasn’t sure my conversation with Kimo had brought me any new information, but I supposed it did verify what I already suspected.

“Were you working in this bar on Wednesday?”

Kimo nodded.

“Do you remember selling a rum punch to Cole, or maybe to an attractive dark-haired woman who might have delivered the drink to him?”

“I sold a lot of rum punches on Wednesday but none to Cole. At least not directly. I do know he wasn’t much of a drinker. In fact, he was in here the day before he was found on the beach and ordered a soft drink. I tried to talk him into one of our signature drinks, but he said something about a heart condition and needing to watch his alcohol intake.”

Okay, that was odd. Based on the evidence left near Cole’s chair, it had looked like he’d drunk the potent drink. As usual, something wasn’t adding up.

Mitch had returned by the time I returned to the command headquarters. He informed me that he was releasing all of us for the remainder of the day and told me to call in before heading in to work in the morning if the storm hadn’t passed. It sounded like we were in for a big one. While it was raining hard the wind wasn’t really all that bad but, according to Mitch, that was supposed to change over the next few hours.

When I got home Cam and Kekoa were sitting at the dining table playing a card game. The rain was coming down in sheets and, as predicted, the wind had started to pick up and was hitting the side of the condo with enough velocity to cause the building to shake.

“I’m surprised to find you both home. I sort of figured you’d be out because you’re both off tomorrow.”

“Cam is sulking because Makena has a date with the new surfing instructor and I decided my brief relationship with Don had come to its natural conclusion.”

“I’m not sulking,” Cam defended himself.

“He’s sulking.”

“Makena and I aren’t exclusive. She can date whatever moron she chooses.”

Kekoa discarded a two of spades which made Cam curse. Yup, there was no doubt about it; Cam was sulking.

I bent down to greet Sandy, then looked out the open window at the pouring rain. “I’m going to check on Elva before I get settled in.”

“Actually, Sean was by earlier and invited everyone down to their place for dinner,” Kekoa informed me. “The guys just got back from Mexico, so we’re doing Mexican food. Kevin is making a huge pot of his homemade chili verde, Carina is bringing tamales, and Elva is bringing dessert.”

“So what are we bringing?”

Cam held up a bag of tortilla chips and a carton of salsa.

“I made guacamole as well,” Kekoa added.

With the exception of Mr. B in unit 6, the tenants of the Shell Beach Condominiums are like a big family. Kevin Green and Sean Trainor lived in unit 5, which has the largest living area of all the condos. Sean and Kevin were flight attendants who were rarely home, but when they were on the island, they were always the first to organize a party. The fact that we were experiencing a near hurricane and they chose to serve the rum-and-fruit-based drink by the same name was typical of the fun the couple often initiated.

Carina West lived in unit 4 and was a dancer at a local luau. She’s a year younger than I am but has a heart the size of someone who has experienced a lot in life. So far I haven’t been able to crack the façade she presents to the world to find the tragedy I’m certain serves as the foundation for her approach to life. Carina worked nights and wasn’t around a lot in the evenings, but when she was, she could usually be found watching old movies with Elva in unit 2.

Unit 3 was open but if Elva was correct would soon be occupied by a young mother and her adopted daughter. It remained to be seen how they’d fit into our little family, but Elva had said she’d picked up a good vibe from them, and she was rarely wrong.

I changed and we grabbed the chips, salsa, and guacamole and headed down the sidewalk to unit 5. Sean and Kevin had done a lot better job making their space into a home than Cam, Kekoa, and me. Our condo is decorated in a theme I think of as yard sale hodgepodge, whereas Sean and Kevin have brought the sand and sea into their space by decorating in varying shades of blue, gray, and white. Our furniture is secondhand, while the guys in unit 5 have purchased the finest furniture and electronics money can buy.

“To rainy nights and good friends to help pass the time.” Kevin held up his glass in a toast.

“Hear, hear,” everyone responded.

Carina sat on the floor petting Sandy while Kekoa chatted with Elva and Cam helped Kevin in the kitchen. The music had been turned up in order to be heard over the sound of the waves crashing onto the beach, making carrying on a conversation difficult at best. I love it when everyone comes together for a spontaneous meal at the end of the day. Sean and Kevin are the most likely to host such an event, but there are times when Carina and I will bring food over to Elva’s for the three of us to share when Cam and Kekoa are out.

“I feel a little bad we’re all here except for Mr. B. Should we invite him to come over?” I wondered.

“I tried,” Kevin reported. “I knocked on the door and waited, but he never answered.”

“His lights and television are on.”

“They were when I knocked as well,” Kevin informed me. “I suppose he could have been in the shower.”

“Or he’s just avoiding us,” Cam offered.

“I’m sure he’ll be over to complain about the noise,” Sean commented. “We can invite him to join us then.”

I sat on one of the barstools and watched Sean mix a pitcher of potent drinks. He was a fit man of average build and a snappy dresser, kindhearted, with a pleasant disposition and an appreciation for art and the theater. He was friendly and neatly groomed, and I’ve heard he was an excellent flight attendant. I know he made a decent amount of money and had been pretty much everywhere he’d ever wanted to go, but I often wondered whether his talent would have been better served if he’d gone into fashion or interior design. 

Kevin, on the other hand, reminded me of Cam. A large man who enjoyed cooking and sports of all kinds, he tended to dress casually, and while Sean enjoyed the opera, Kevin was more of a heavy metal type of guy. On the surface they seemed as different as two men could be, but they seemed to have what it took to sustain a relationship that would go the distance.

“So how was Mexico?” I asked Sean.

“Hot, muggy, and overcast. The surfing wasn’t what we hoped and it was too hot to do much hiking, but the food was good and we enjoyed the amenities at the resort.”

When he’d heard about their wedding, Sean and Kevin had been given a two-week stay at a luxury resort by one of the frequent fliers who patronized the airline they worked for. They’d just returned home earlier that day.

“It was really nice of Mr. Brown to comp your stay.”

“The guy’s loaded. The resort in Mexico is only one of the ones he owns.”

“He owns the resort? I thought he just worked there.”

“No, he owns it. At least partially. I think there are several partners and a handful of investors with their hand in the pot. Speaking of investors, I heard about Mr. Cole. It’s a shame what happened.”

“You knew him?”

“As much as one can know a customer. I usually work the first-class cabin and Cole always flew first class. In fact, he was on the last flight I worked before Kevin and I headed for Mexico.”

“Which was two weeks ago.”

“Yeah, thereabout. Sixteen days ago, to be specific. Why?”

“He only checked into the Dolphin Bay on Sunday.”

“He mentioned he had plans to stay with a woman he knew on the island. I imagine he must have done that first. Did you know he was planning to develop his own resort on the island?”

“I heard that. It seems he had a couple of partners and planned to develop the land east of Dolphin Bay.”