by Kathi Daley
“Not necessarily,” I answered. “However, statistically speaking, more missing persons turn out not to have been the victim of foul play than turn out to have been. It is smart to look at all options.”
“So you think Kinsley is just fine. You think he has put me through what is by far the worst few days of my life for nothing.”
“Again, I’m not necessarily saying that.” I paused and looked at the woman who seemed to be more angry than scared and I found myself wondering if she wasn’t being overly dramatic for my benefit. “When your husband didn’t come home after two days, why did you call Pope Investigations? Why didn’t you call the police?”
The woman lowered her gaze but didn’t respond right away.
“You don’t think he has met with foul play either. You think he simply took off and you want him found. You may even believe that he is missing because he is engaged in some sort of illegal activity and you didn’t want to get the authorities involved.”
“That’s a lot of speculation,” the woman accused.
“Perhaps. But I’m not wrong, am I?”
“Kinsley likes to gamble. He isn’t very good at it and has lost most of our retirement savings over the past couple of years. He’d been out late on Friday, and we didn’t speak, but when he came to bed, I could smell the smoke and alcohol that accompany a backroom poker game, so I knew. He left around lunchtime on Saturday, simply saying that he had errands he needed to do. He didn’t elaborate or say when he’d be home, but I assumed he’d be home in a few hours. When he didn’t come home at all that day, I assumed his errands had led to a Saturday night poker game. I tried calling him about a million times, but the calls went straight to voicemail. I waited until Monday, hoping he would show up, but when he didn’t, I decided to call your father. Kinsley has gone off on gambling binges in the past, but this time feels different.
“Different how?”
“For one thing, he has been away longer than usual.”
I made a few notes and then looked up at the woman. “So if your husband is just off gambling somewhere, which it sounds like he very well may be, why did you think we would be able to find him when you couldn’t?”
“Finding people is your job. I figured you’d have a few tricks that I didn’t know to try.”
I supposed we did have a few tricks that the missing man’s wife didn’t know to try, but now that I suspected he had taken off on his own free will, I wasn’t sure I wanted to get in the middle of a marital spat. Still, there was a slim possibility that the man really had met with foul play. And I asked the woman several more questions, mostly relating to her husband’s friends, lodging preferences, and financial situation. I promised to do what I could and to call her with an update by the following morning. I also took down the information relating to his car. It wouldn’t hurt to ask my brothers and friends with HPD to keep an eye out for it. As I drove back to Pope Investigations, I made a mental list of people to talk to. If the man was a gambler, I was sure my friend, Emmy Jean Thornton, would know the guy. On the surface, Emmy Jean was a sassy southern sex kitten, but beneath the Dolly Parton exterior, was a shrewd woman who could out drink and out gamble most of the men on the island.
Chapter 2
After my meeting with Hoku, I returned to Pope Investigations. Dad’s car was in the drive, and additional HPD vehicles had shown up. I parked off to the side of the building and then headed toward the front door where the crime scene guys were working to collect physical evidence. The front door had been wrapped with yellow crime scene tape, so I asked the man closest to me if he knew where Jason might be. When he told me that he was in the office in the back of the building speaking to my father, I decided to head around to the rear of the building to access the office through the back door so as to avoid the men who were working in the lobby.
“Oh, good, you’re back,” Dad said as I entered the office from the hallway. “How did things go with Mrs. Palakiko?”
“The interview went fine. There are some things we can check out, but I suspect the guy is just off on a gambling spree.” I looked at Jason. “So what do we know about the victim I found laid out across the entry this morning?”
“According to the driver’s license found in the victim’s pocket, his name is Ano Hanale. He is a twenty-eight-year-old resident of Oahu living right here on the North Shore. One of the guys from the crime scene unit recognized the man as owning a food truck in the area. At this point, I’m waiting for additional information.”
“So our victims so far are a twenty-eight-year-old food truck owner, a forty-six-year-old nightclub owner, and a sixty-eight-year-old retired Air Force officer vacationing in the area. What on earth do these three men have in common, and, maybe even more importantly, what do they have to do with me?”
“That is the question of the hour,” Dad said.
I leaned a hip against Dad’s desk. “It seems unlikely that the men knew each other. The first victim resided in San Diego, California, and had only been on the island for a short time when he was found dead. The second victim lived and worked in Honolulu, and it sounds like the third victim lived and worked on the North Shore. There is a forty year age difference between the oldest and youngest victim, and the occupations of each man are about as different as one can get.”
“Maybe they didn’t know each other, but they still could have had something in common,” Jason pointed out. “They could all have received rides from the same Uber driver, or they could have all eaten at the same restaurant. If we look hard enough, I suspect we’ll find a link between the three of them and you.” Jason paused. The expression on his face indicated that he was working the situation through in his mind. “Maybe the link is the resort where you work. I’ll check to see if the first victim stayed there at some point. At the time of his death, he’d been renting a condo, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t stay at the resort prior to that.” Jason paused and furrowed his brow. “I doubt the nightclub owner was staying at the resort, but he could have been on the premises to promote his club. And the most recent victim, the food truck guy, I suppose he could have just been in the area to surf.”
“It seems like a stretch, but I’ll play along,” I said. “There are a lot of people in and out of the Dolphin Bay Resort for a variety of reasons, and not just the hotel guests. We have several restaurants, a couple of bars, and a public beach with decent surfing.” I crossed the room and sat down on one of the chairs provided for just that purpose. “The thing is, there are so many people in and out of there, how will we ever narrow it down even if the resort, or a portion of the resort, is the link?”
“I don’t know,” Jason admitted.
“And if the resort is the link, how did the killer know where Lani lives?” Dad asked. “The first victim was found on the beach behind the condo.”
“That’s true.” Jason drummed his fingers on the desk in front of him. He looked at me. “Are you sure you don’t recognize any of the three men?”
“The last victim, the food truck guy. I thought I recognized him when I stumbled upon his body this morning. Now that I know he runs a food truck, I’m pretty sure I remember seeing him parked just down the beach from the resort where Dolphin Bay Beach gives way to the public park. He sells fish tacos, shrimp sandwiches, and other offerings from the sea.”
“So it is possible, even likely, that a guest staying at the resort could have walked down the beach and bought lunch from Mr. Hanale?”
“Sure.”
“Do we know when the first victim, Walter Evans, arrived on the island?” Dad asked. “His body was found on the beach behind Lani’s condo twenty days ago. I’m curious if he had just arrived or if he had been here for a while.”
“Mr. Evans did not arrive via commercial air,” Jason answered. “I was able to determine that at the time of his death, he was staying in a condo about a half mile east of Lani’s place. He’d rented the condo six days prior to his death, and he had plans to stay another week. Since I do
n’t know how he arrived on the island, I was never able to determine when he arrived. It could be that his arrival coincided with his stay at the condo, but it is also possible that he arrived prior to that and stayed somewhere else.”
“Did you check cruise ships?” Dad asked.
“I did, but that didn’t pan out,” Jason confirmed. “At this point, I am going to assume that Mr. Evans arrived on the island via private boat, helicopter, or airplane.”
“What about his credit cards?” I asked.
“The only credit card I could find in his name was last used two months prior to his death in a coffee shop in San Francisco, California. The condo where he’d been staying when he died had been paid for ahead of time, and if he ate out or rented a car, he must have used cash or perhaps possessed an additional credit card we have not discovered yet.”
“Does this whole thing sound just a tad too covert operations to you?” I asked.
“Actually, it does,” Jason agreed. “Not only could I not find a recent paper trail, but the man was not found with a phone on his person, and I was unable to find a cell registered to him. If I had to guess, the guy was on the island to hide out and intentionally behaved in such a way so as not to be found.’
“Hide out from who?” I asked.
Jason shrugged. “No idea.”
“Was Mr. Evans married?” Dad asked.
“No. He never married nor had children. He never held a job other than the Air Force from which he retired ten years ago. Since his retirement, it appears he has traveled extensively. His passport shows trips to Europe, South America, the Middle East, and most recently, Japan.”
Dad got up, walked over to the window, and looked out to the sea. His eyes narrowed a little before he turned from the window and looked at Jason. “Okay, so this guy is well traveled. It appears he arrived on Oahu by means other than commercial transportation, and it looks as if he behaved in such a manner as not to leave a trail of any sort. It sounds like the actions of a man involved in criminal activity.”
“I don’t disagree,” Jason said, “but the guy has an impressive resume with the Air Force leading right up until his retirement. When I read over his list of accomplishments, he didn’t strike me as being the sort of person to be up to something sinister.”
“People change,” Dad said.
“I suppose they do,” Jason agreed.
“So what about the second victim?” I asked. “The nightclub owner. Any suspicious activity on his part?”
“Not really,” Jason said. “Vinnie Travano owned a nightclub in Honolulu. He had a clean record and, based on interviews conducted after his death ten days ago, he was well liked by his employees, neighbors, and even his competitors. As you know, he was found propped up on Lani’s lifeguard tower at the Dolphin Bay Resort. Prior to that, he was last seen at his nightclub two days prior.”
“He was found on Saturday,” I said. “If he was last seen on Thursday, was he supposed to show up at the nightclub on Friday?”
“According to his manager, when he left in the wee hours of the morning on Thursday, he told his staff that he needed to take care of a personal matter and might be out for a few days. No one we spoke to knew what that personal matter might have pertained to.”
“What about phone and credit card records?” Dad asked.
“The last charge he made was at a gas station in Honolulu shortly after he left the club on Thursday. I spoke to Mr. Travano’s neighbors in an attempt to determine the last time anyone saw him at home, but Mr. Travano lives in a high rise, and the neighbors don’t really pay that much attention to the comings and goings of their neighbors. I didn’t find evidence that our victim rented a lodging property, so it is possible that he was not staying on the North Shore. Of course, he could have been staying with a friend who hasn’t come forward.”
“So we have a retired Air Force officer who arrived on the island in an unknown manner and was here for an unknown purpose, and a nightclub owner who took some time off to see to a personal matter,” I said. “And then there is today’s victim, the food truck owner. Do we know anything about his movements during the past few days?”
“Not yet, but I’ll let you know if I find anything. At this point, I’m not even a hundred percent certain the deaths are linked. I realize that they appear to be, but while all three victims were shot, the weapons used to kill them appear to be three different guns.” Jason looked up as his partner stuck his head in the door to let him know that Ano Hanale’s roommate was on the phone. Jason answered the call, and Dad and I took our cue and headed out onto the lanai at the back of the building.
“So what do you think?” I asked Dad.
“I think that a world traveler who showed up on the island under the radar and a nightclub owner could be involved in the same shady dealings, perhaps involving smuggling, money laundering, or even drugs, but if that is the case, I have no idea how a food truck owner and my daughter fit into the whole thing. We need more information.”
“Agreed. We can do some digging, but first, we should talk about our missing husband. Our client is paying us a lot of money to track him down.”
Dad sat down on an outdoor swing. “Okay. What do we know?”
I went over my notes from this afternoon, taking my time and sharing my overall impressions of the client as well as the details she provided. It did seem as if the guy might have simply taken off, but Dad suggested that we talk to his friends and business associates before jumping to any conclusions. I agreed, so we made up a list of people to start with. We divided the list between us, and each set off in different directions after letting Jason know what we were doing and obtaining his promise to bring us into the loop if he came up with new information relating to the murder cases.
Chapter 3
I decided to start my investigation with a chat with Emmy Jean Thornton, a woman I’d met while accompanying my neighbor to bingo at the senior center. I’d called her earlier, and she’d informed me that she was having a spa day with her sister, Tammy Rhea, but that I was welcome to pop in during their tanning hour by the pool if I wanted to chat. Normally the spa did not allow individuals who were not paying customers into the spa and pool area, but the manager on duty today used to work at the Dolphin Bay Resort, so I’d called ahead and asked her to leave me a pass at the desk.
“Lani darling,” greeted Emmy Jean with her big hair piled high on her head, and her even bigger breasts spilling out of a tiny aqua blue bikini top. I had to hand it to her, the sequined swimsuit was not one that could be pulled off by most sixty-four-year-olds, but somehow she managed to make it work.
“Emmy Jean, Tammy Rhea,” I greeted the sisters. “It’s been a while.”
“Far too long in my opinion,” Tammy Rhea responded. “In fact, I don’t think you’ve been to a single bingo game since going into business with your father.”
“I’ve been a lot busier since we opened Pope Investigations,” I admitted. “I do miss those Monday lunches, however. I’ll try to free up some time in the next few weeks.”
“Everyone would love to see you, although we’ve moved the lunches to Wednesdays.”
“Good to know.”
“You said you had questions relating to Kinsley Palakiko,” Emmy Jean stated.
I nodded. “His wife hired us to find him. I guess he has been missing since Saturday. I understand that the man has a gambling problem, and figured that the two of you might have crossed paths.”
“You figured correctly,” Emmy Jean said. She picked up a glass that looked to be filled with flavored vodka of some sort and took a sip. “Kinsley is a regular at my Friday night poker game, and I know he frequents other games as well. To be honest, the man is one of the worst poker players I’ve ever come across. Not only does he lose the majority of the time, but he also loses big. If I had to guess, if he is missing, he most likely blew through his savings and ended up in debt to the wrong person.”
“And which wrong person might that be?”
Emmy Jean shrugged. “I really wouldn’t know. There are a lot of money lenders out there that you don’t want to end up owing money to.”
“Was he in attendance at the poker game this past Friday?” I asked.
“He was.”
“And did he lose?”
Emmy Jean frowned, creasing her perfectly sculpted brow. “Actually, he didn’t. In fact, he won big, which believe me, was a first.” Emmy Jean pursed her lips. “You know, you might want to talk to a man named Spade. He attended the Friday game, and I remember him inviting Kinsley to a private game at his estate on Saturday night. I don’t know if he went, but the man was flush with cash after Friday’s game, so chances are he did.”
“Does Spade have a last name?” I asked. “Or even a real first name?”
Emmy Jean shook her head. “Nope, Spade is his only name as far as I know. If you want to have a conversation with the man, you should chat with McCarthy. I know he frequents the Saturday night games from time to time.”
Mike McCarthy was a friend of my dad’s, also a retired cop, who, along with the other two Stooges, Ben Woodson and Frank Thomas, helped us out with our investigations from time to time. Each of the three men had their strengths and their vices. McCarthy’s vice just happened to be gambling.
“Okay. I’ll call him. Is there anything else you can tell me about Kinsley that might help me track him down?”
“I know he is a pilot,” Emmy Jean said. “It seems to me that he has a marketable trade that would earn him a lot of cash if he was able to hook up with someone wanting to come and go from the island undetected. I’m not making any sort of an official statement, but the word on the street is that there is a player on the island who brokers that sort of thing. From what I heard, the broker is a woman known in certain circles for being able to provide transportation for anyone needing to get on or off the island under the radar. That is if you have enough cash.”
