by Tyler Colins
“Let's park in our building, change, and head out from there,” I recommended. “We can walk or grab a taxi.”
Rey pulled out her cell. “I'm gonna call Eddy to see if the kids are all right and if he's okay with watching them a while longer.”
I swung onto N Nimitz. “That bomb proved one thing.”
“What?” Rey asked as she waited for Eddy to answer.
“That Haloa is alive and well. It happened after we found the blood.”
“He might have rigged it, but she may have detonated it,” Gail said. “So he could conceivably be dead.”
“I don't buy that. She needs him. They're still on Oahu, no question.” Linda opened another antiseptic wipe and dabbed at my chin. “Has anyone checked where Haloa lives?”
“I did earlier,” Gail replied. “He's not far from the Pali, in Nuuanu-Punchbowl. We could drive by on the way back to your place.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Rey smiled. “Eddy? … It's Rey. We got a favor to ask… Whadya mean 'another one'?”
* * *
“Kinda nice,” Rey murmured.
“If you like industrial green,” Linda muttered.
We were parked a few houses down from Haloa's two-story, single-family house. It had a good five decades on it, but seemed well-maintained, even if it was painted a not-so-pleasant shade of, yes, industrial green.
“Doesn't look like anyone's there.”
Linda glanced at Rey. “Maybe they want it to look that way.”
“Why take a risk? They know the police will be dropping by,” Gail stated, scanning the 6,000+ square-foot property.
“Speaking of police, Hives hasn't rung you in a good three minutes,” Rey snorted.
“That's because he knows I'm not picking up,” I replied with a salty smile.
“You're going to have to talk to him some time.” Gail.
“Later. When we're settled with drinks.”
Rey pointed forward. “Home, James.”
Billie H's “Blue Moon” announced a call.
“Man, that guy just won't give up.” Rey grabbed my cell and answered. “Rey here… What the hell?” She put the call on speaker.
“You ladies lead the lives of lucky felines.”
“Instead of playing games, why don't you and your friend flee the island before you're caught?” I asked coolly.
Laughter served as a response.
“You find this amusing?” Linda asked crisply.
“I find you amusing.”
“Why're you calling?” I asked. “To rub our noses in your good fortune? It won't last. They will catch you.”
“Maybe yes, maybe no.” More laughter.
“We're hanging up, Cholla. You're boring us.” I motioned Rey.
“Hold on!”
“What?”
“You haven't seen the last of me,” she said ominously.
“Nor you us.”
Rey disconnected with a sinister smile.
Gail slapped her shoulder. “If we'd kept her on the line, we might have been able to triangulate that call.”
Rey offered an are-you-for-real look and poked out her tongue.
“What was I thinking?” Gail hooted with laughter.
“That she was dumb as an ox?” Linda quipped.
“I hear oxen are actually as smart as dogs,” I put out with a wink.
“I rest my case.” Crossing her arms, she leaned back.
Chapter Forty-Eight
As she gazed across the lounge, Gail sipped a blindingly bright neon-pink frothy drink in a goldfish bowl of a glass. “Pretty quiet for a Friday night.”
“It's only quarter of seven.” Linda slid back into a comfy chair of soft textured fabric. Tension evaporated from a puckered brow like an ebbing tide as she released a lengthy sigh and gazed onto a well-lit street.
After freshening up at the condo and slipping on warmer clothes, we'd walked over to Kalakaua in search of a bar. Stained-glass lanterns and partially frosted palmgrass-etched windows beckoned us into Mischief & Mayhem. Inside, slim silhouette pendant lights provided an ambient glow while jazz played softly in the background. There were no more than two dozen patrons inside and it seemed a perfect venue for chilling.
Rey held up a three-sided leatherette table-tent menu. “The honey-ginger shrimp, hot crab dip, and grilled calamari sound nummy.”
“I'm in.” I settled back and finally relaxed.
“Order double,” Gail said. “I'm famished.”
We'd not yet responded to Ald's messages and texts. Plainly, he wasn't that concerned because if truly urgent, he'd have tracked us down. Still, it couldn't hurt to check in, so I fished out the cell phone from my knapsack.
Rey went to speak with one of two male waitpersons as I waited for Ald to pick up.
“I was tempted to ignore you, like you have me,” he said frostily, then exhaled wearily. “Care to explain what happened prior to the explosion and why you took off?”
“Not really, but if I have to—”
“You do.”
After providing a quick rundown, I asked if there was any news on Franklen Haloa and Cholla.
“Not yet,” he advised tersely. “When do I get the pleasure of another visit?”
“Your office—noon tomorrow?”
“Make it eleven. Bring coffees and croissants.”
I'd barely put the phone away when Fabian started kissin' and twistin' (“Blue Moon” hadn't done much for me).
“It's me-e,” Cholla announced gaily.
“Of course it is,” I said cheerily. “It's sweet that you care and all, but maybe we should reassess this weird relationship.”
She laughed. “I can't have you forget me.”
“Given how you've touched our lives, that would next to impossible.”
Again, she laughed. “I'm glad you four are enjoying yourselves. I anticipated you might indulge in a couple of rounds of drinks and food, so please eat, drink and be merry—on me. Two-hundred dollars plus a generous tip should more than cover it.”
Turning to the lounge, I gazed from one animated face to face and surveyed shadowed corners. No one, nothing, stood out. “You're very good.”
“I know. À bientôt.”
When I told them about Cholla's generosity, Rey flew to the bar. The three of us watched as she engaged a middle-aged, squirrel-faced gent in animated conversation.
Two minutes later, she was back. “Caro the bartender recommends the gouda and pancetta fondue in addition to our three excellent choices, by the way.” Gripping the edge of the table, she leaned over. “A young fella wearing cheap cologne and a Demi Lovato T-shirt dropped by with an envelope three minutes after we sat. He waited for Caro to take a call. It was Cholla and she repeated what Young Fella had said—that it was a little 'bon voyage' gift.”
Gail smirked. “How generous.”
“Do we want to see if she's in the area?” Rey peered through a nearby window with a frown.
“If she's not long gone, she's tucked somewhere where we'll never find her,” Linda replied dryly.
Rey's probing gaze pursued passersby. “You don't suppose she plans to 'bon voyage' us right now … as in bomb?”
“We're no immediate threat. She'll wait.” I motioned the waitperson for another vodka and cranberry, heavy on the lime.
“And toy with us for a while.” Rey glowered and sat.
“I say we do as she intended: eat, drink and be merry.” Linda toasted the window. “To you, Cholla 'Killer Queen' Poniard, wherever you are.”
* * *
It was 6:45 a.m. and rainy. Cool, too. Not an overly pleasant start to Saturday. Sporting a slight hangover didn't help. Too bad Button wasn't here; that fuzzy face would have “sunshined” the day.
Slipping a cozy fleece cardigan over a V-neck sweater and jeans, I tucked my cell into a pocket, poured Kona coffee into a large mug, and lumbered into the lanai.
After copious amounts of great appetizers and four rounds of drinks—or had that b
een five?—Gail had grabbed a cab and the three of us had blissfully sauntered home. Arriving around 10:30, we'd shared a bottle of bubbles in my condo before Rey and Linda returned to theirs—singing Ronson's and Mars' “Uptown Funk”. If the P.I. biz ended up a bust, the two would do well to start a lounge act.
Leaning into a wall beside the rain-washed window, I gazed at the wet boulevard. Traffic was medium-light. A few eager tourists with umbrellas, lightweight raincoats and ponchos were headed to the Ala Moana Center and sights/sites unknown.
After gulping half the hot coffee, I rested my forehead against the cool glass. It seemed we were at a standstill re Cholla. To find her would prove impossible; she and her accomplice could be holed up anywhere. Undoubtedly, she'd wriggle out of the woodwork when ready, but I didn't particularly like the idea of being a red star at a “Shoot the Star” arcade game.
With a loud sigh, I checked emails and found one from my mother and nephew, and two Mainland friends. The only text was from Ald: a reminder to bring coffee and croissants.
Linda and Rey weren't planning to drop by until 10:30, so to kill time I could stroll to the bakery ten blocks over and pick up the croissants, maybe indulge in a muffin or tart. I felt a need to get out, to clear the ol' noggin, and release an irksome sense of futility.
* * *
Three blocks from the bakery, the rain had dissipated, but the coolness and gray had not.
Xavier had called to check in while I was en route and we agreed to meet at the bakery at quarter past eight. We'd been sending him frequent case updates, but he'd not been as proactive because he'd been dealing with an important Mainland assignment while tending to Angus, who was now staying with him as he recuperated.
Deep in thought, I jumped when someone grasped my arm. Instinctively, I wrenched it back and took a defensive stance.
“Is that a way to greet a new friend?”
Franklen Haloa's argentine eyes twinkled and he offered an engaging, toothy smile. Honey-colored skin looked baby soft. Under other circumstances, a teddy-bear smile from a teddy-bear face might have proven pacifying.
“Let me guess. You're camped near our building and keeping close watch?” I glanced at the meaty hand that had re-clasped my arm. “I'm going to scream if you don't let go.”
“My partner, who's in that black Lexus over there and an amazing crack shot, will shoot if you do. We'll be gone before anyone's the wiser, but if you want, go for it. No one's nearby.” Another engaging smile. “As an FYI and before you ask, we were driving by—quite innocently and coincidentally—when we saw you.”
The castrato voice was surprising, if not off-putting: a contrast to a large-boned body. “Why not have shot me then?”
“It wouldn't have proven particularly beneficial.”
“… How come you didn't bomb us last night?”
“We'd discussed it, but then decided it would prove unreasonably fatal to bar patrons.”
How noble. “But you bombed the minivan with us there.”
“That had been a twofold mission: to get rid of it and a meddling foursome.” He smiled like someone taking a load off his feet upon arriving home after a long, hard day.
“I have to know.” I scanned a jovial face. “How did you and Cholla meet?”
“My company was introducing a series of upscale saimin dishes at an art gallery belonging to a cousin of our Director of Marketing. The two of us bumped into each other, literally, and got to chatting. One thing led to another.”
“I'm guessing you told her about your tour overseas during that initial chat.”
He studied me for several seconds. “Yeah, so?”
“Cholla's always looking for 'useful' people.” Feigning indifference, I gazed around casually. The only store open at this time of the morning was the bakery—eight storefronts down. There went the Girl Scout motto of being prepared; if I'd been wise, I'd have packed a weapon. But who'd have thought a pastry run could go so wrong?
He nodded to the Lexus and, hooking an arm through mine, yanked me close. “Allow us to give you a lift.”
“Anywhere particular?”
He merely grinned.
“My friends will come looking.”
“Of course they will, because we'll be calling with an invite to come and save your life.”
An innate reaction to chomp on a blubbery arm garnered laughter—and an elbow thump to the ribs that took away my breath.
* * *
We stepped alongside the car. Haloa had a firm grip, but the element of surprise did have merit.
Cholla smiled benignly through the open window, as if greeting a friend or enjoying the day. Shoulder-length auburn waves had replaced the platinum beveled bob and in place of the trademark red lipstick was a shade between currant and berry. She held a lightweight SIG Sauer pistol firmly and levelly; no question, she knew how to use that baby.
Now or never. My elbow crashed into Haloa's ribcage and my foot stomped his as if it were a big hideous bug. Stunned, he grunted. Surprised, she fired. Something whizzed close by my head—which suddenly felt stranger than strange—but there was no time to think or stop.
I head-butted Haleo in the stomach and as he crumbled like a soufflé, I sprinted like a sugar-saturated adolescent. A dive alongside a public trash receptacle resulted in scraped palms and bashed knees. There went more skin and here came more contusions.
A man's urgent yell to “stop” sounded like a crazy cartoon character's bark while Cholla's shout to “get in” seemed as if it had been funneled through a tunnel. Another shot thundered. Everything appeared like a grainy, third-generation silent film. I wasn't shocked, but a little numb, and the side of my head not only burned, it was fiery and wet.
Chapter Forty-Nine
“Cousin Reynalda, I'm fine. Re-eally,” I stated with as much conviction as I could muster, given I was floating high above a Saturn ring.
Sitting close in a chair, furry-fluffy cotton balls were bouncing around Rey's blurry head.
“How would you know?” she asked skeptically. “You're doped up in a hospital bed with a crazed Garfield the Cat smile.”
I took woozy inventory of the surroundings. Toffee-cream walls. Indirect ambient lighting. Security and IV poles. Eating table supporting coffee cup and half-eaten biscuit. Medical devices, some with pretty, shiny lights. Long tall window with industrial blinds. Fake wood cabinet beside the bed.
“You were shot,” she informed me. “Luckily, it's not overly serious. Kinda like one of those TV or book 'flesh wounds', but ucky.”
“Ucky?” A grin pulled at lips that felt as if they'd been injected with mega doses of Novocain.
“Yeah. Like yucky, but worse,” she explained with a dead-serious mien. “Anyway, you're here for the night.”
I closed iron-heavy eyes. “Ald must be pissed he didn't get those croissants.”
“He'll live.” She squeezed my hand. “So will you. Thank God.”
“What happened to Bonnie and Clyde?”
Rey chuckled. “They got away, but the folks in blue are following leads.”
“They won't catch our on-the-lam criminals.” I exhaled shakily. “If dazed memory serves correctly, Cholla shot me, right?”
“She shot at you. I don't see that cow failing at anything, so she must have been super flustered. Xavier arrived about the time you knocked over Mr. Saimin. Everything happened real fast. Your would-be abductor scrambled to his big flat feet and dove into the car. Xavier said the guy's fat butt hung out the window as the car shot off like a ground-launched missile.
“Xavier raced to your side while some guy—Ned Olive, I think—who'd just parked, ran after the car to see if he could get the plate. Daily jogs paid off, because he lucked in and got part of it.” She sighed softly. “Xavier, Linda and Gail just left, but will be back in the morning. Hopefully, we'll be able to take you home then. Our favorite detective—not—should arrive in the next hour. He was supposed to be here now, but got an urgent call.”
I
fought a yawn and tried to open my eyes. No success. “What time is it?”
“Just after six.”
“I hate losing time.”
“You wouldn't have wanted to be awake when they were cleaning and poking, and doing all that doc-med stuff,” she said dryly.
“… Probably not.”
“They took an x-ray and cleaned the wound, and you got seven stitches. You also got a tetanus shot, antibiotics and painkillers. A real hunky doctor gave me instructions for your home care. You'll be okay, but you may want to wear a sunhat or scarf or something for a while.”
I fingered the dressing; it felt like rice-packed burlap. “It looks that bad?”
She smiled and patted my hand. “It'll look fine … in a few weeks … when the hair on that side grows back.”
I managed to open my eyes and gazed at her in surprise.
“No worries, Cousin Jilly, with a little cosmetic surgery, you'll be good as new.”
“Great. Not quite two years as a P.I. and I've already collected a few battle scars. Can you imagine what I'll look like after a decade?” It was an effort to talk; Aunt Ruth June's crocheted doily seemed to have draped itself around my tongue.
“You'll look like a seasoned pro.”
* * *
“Feeling better?”
Detective Gerald Ives' attractive face was obscured by silky veils. It took several seconds to focus.
“I must be in real trouble,” I murmured. “You're smiling.”
He took the chair Rey had sat in earlier and pulled it close. “How're you feeling?”
“Spacey.”
“We found Haloa an hour ago.”
“In a gulley or in the ocean?”
He smirked. “Side of a rural road.”
“No sign of Cholla?”
He shook his head. “The Lexus was located a few miles from the Haloa's body, in Makaha Valley. She's probably cruising the ocean, either on a 'borrowed' boat or with someone whose services she's purchased.”
“… She's on Oahu. She has unfinished business.”
Ald grumbled under his breath. “Why would she hang around? That's insane.”
“There's nothing insane about that woman. She's focused and meticulous, and doesn't like loose ends.”
