Kauai Temptations

by Terry Ambrose

  “Because he spent the weekend with her and he thought she might go public. She was too much of a liability.”

  The playful Des disappeared instantly with a flash of anger that showed all over, from her coloring down to her grip on the steering wheel. The spell had been broken.

  A tattooed man lumbered down the front stairs and to the car. When Des saw him, she flipped back her hair with both hands. It was the same motion she’d used just before our picture had been taken. “You’re pretty damn good, you know?” She licked her lips as she picked up the gun, waving it as though it were a toy. “Let’s go.”

  Now, I really was confused. Was she nuts or playing me for a fool? One thing was certain, there would be no Woodward and Bernstein awards, no Pulitzer Prize for Journalism. The McKenna and Hennings collaboration opportunity was nothing more than a delusion.

  Des rolled down the window to speak with our visitor. She seemed unconcerned by my presence. I was probably free to leave at any time as long as I was willing to let the guy with the buzz cut and tattoos beat me to a pulp afterwards.

  “It’s all set? Everything is cleared out?”

  The skull-and-crossbones tattoo on his jaw twitched. “Done.”

  “The room?”

  This guy’s eyes were cold as stone. He nodded. “Except for the crap on the walls. We can leave it.”

  Des glanced over at me, nonchalantly waving the gun in my general direction. “Get out. You’ll be here for a while.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

  The guy with the tattoos lumbered around to my door. His walk was almost ungainly with the upper half of his body swaying from side to side as he took each step. When he got to my door, he didn’t bother opening it. He knew sooner or later I’d be forced to. Des grabbed the keys, then pointed at my escort. “Roger will take good care of you.”

  That’s what I was worried about. I didn’t want to entrust my care to Roger. He didn’t look like the caring type. I turned sideways in my seat to Des. “I understand Kong went to Honolulu on business the weekend Morah went away with Figland.”

  She snapped, “The whore? So what?”

  “He met someone there, didn’t he?”

  “That’s what I heard.” Her tone was icy.

  “But his contact was dead.”

  “Must have been a coincidence.” Talk about the Ice Queen.

  “People know I’m here. Don’t forget that.”

  Des fixed her gaze on my face, she was probably watching, waiting for me to make a mistake. “Who?”

  “Najar, for one.”

  Her eyebrows went up and her jaw down in a movement I call The Face. It was an acknowledgement as old as the con game itself. It said “I know, but I don’t care.” She said, “By the time he’s looking for you, we’ll be long gone. You’ve been a pain in the ass and have really inconvenienced me. But, before I decide what to do with you, I’ve got some questions. Maybe a proposition.” She motioned at me. “Roger, take him inside.”

  The door flew open. Roger reached for me, but I raised both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m coming.”

  My escort backed away, but only enough to let me out. “You heard Des. Now.”

  A long time ago, I might have been able to catalog everything about my surroundings, the trip here, as well as Des and Roger. But, faced with my own mortality, inconsequential strength compared to Roger, or perhaps even Des, things were getting muddled. I still didn’t know what Des really wanted from me. What kind of proposition could she possibly offer? Was this another head game?

  The interior of the house was nicer than I’d expected, worse than it could have been. No holes in the walls, but no real decor either. Furniture, functional, but in a style one could classify as mainland cheap, not island chic. The hardwood floors were unpolished, but relatively clean. In short, this place could have been furnished for a few hundred bucks at an island secondhand store. The comment Des had made about being gone made more sense; they only stayed in a place as long as it was convenient. Most likely, everything disposable got left behind. Moving might take an hour at the most.

  Des pointed at a cheap folding chair next to the couch. “Have a seat.”

  I sat as directed. At this point, my best option was to be cooperative. Belligerence would probably earn me some time as Roger’s punching bag. “You said you had a proposition.”

  “Keep Mr. McKenna company. I’ll be right back.” Des walked out of the room, past a dining table, and into the kitchen. The only thing on the table was a bottle of beer. A moment later, I heard her call out. “Wine?”

  Who the hell wanted wine at a time like this? Roger crossed his arms. It crossed my mind that maybe he’d been the “maintenance guy” the picnicking couple had described.

  “Sure,” I said.

  Des reappeared with two glasses, handed one to me, then sat on the couch so that she faced me. She had one leg crossed over the other and leaned forward on one elbow as though she were talking to a friend. “Roger doesn’t drink anymore.”

  “Guy pissed me off, Des.” One side of Roger’s little skull-and-crossbones tattoo skewed upwards with a smile on his face.

  I got it. Roger was a badass. And Des was toying with me. But why? “Maybe he deserved it.” I took one quick sip from my glass, then set it on the coffee table. “So what’s your offer?”

  Des made The Face again. “Fair enough. Our staffing needs changed recently.”

  “I know about the guy Kong went to see on Oahu. He was dead.”

  “The one who drowned?”

  A chill ran down my back as I snuck a glance at Roger; his face was cold. Add two more suspects to the short list. All I could do was play this out. “Yeah, him. Why did Kong go there? I mean, why that particular weekend?”

  “That you don’t need to know. But Kong needs someone in Honolulu.”

  “He handles your—staffing? What do you do?”

  “I’m more production and marketing. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. You had a rather impressive background as a skip tracer five years ago, then you dropped out and moved to Oahu.”

  I watched her closely, trying to comprehend how she’d learned about my background.

  “What? It surprises you that we have contacts?”

  “I guess not. What do you want?”

  “Fine, I’ll get right to it. How much do you know about our business?”

  Who had she talked to? Would she know if I lied? “I don’t have a lot of proof, but I suspect you and your brother run an identity theft ring. I think that’s why someone killed Morah. She got greedy.”

  “Why are you so insistent someone killed her? Maybe she died in a meth explosion like the cops said. Maybe she’s just another two-bit whore.”

  I studied her features. Somehow, Des was emotionally connected to Morah. But, how?

  She glared at me. “What?”

  “You’re more involved in this than just business. You didn’t like Morah Wilkerson for some reason. You’re the one who gave her the checks, aren’t you?”

  “She wasn’t right for my brother.” Her complete lack of emotion reminded me of Lu Tawana’s description. Des got her joy from manipulating people. What had she done?

  It was my turn to use The Face. It seemed to work.

  She set her glass next to mine on the table and looked me in the eye. “You came for revenge,” she said. “How would you like a job instead?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  “You ever do anything illegal, McKenna? Did you ever think of doing something because you could make a lot of money regardless of the legality?” Des watched me with a gaze that was impossible to read. No anger, no emotion, just business.

  “Uh, no. I never want to go to jail.”

  “What if there was almost no risk of that? What if you didn’t have to worry about the cops because they’d never figure out who you were?”

  “With my luck? Are you kidding? I’m afraid of getting a parking ticket.” I laughed, but she
didn’t. Uh oh, wrong answer. This was a job interview, which I was blowing. “That was just a joke.”

  “So you’re a big chicken? Afraid to take chances?” She stared at her wine glass, as unflappable as a gypsy reading tarot cards. When she looked up at me, I glanced away.

  The beer bottle was still sweating. In fact, there was now a pool of sweat on the wooden tabletop. Whose beer was that, anyway? Where had I seen that brand before? I turned back to Des. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

  “Really? You never saw someone driving a nice car and got jealous because you don’t have one? Or wanted to buy, say some stocks or bonds to invest in your future?”

  If she knew about my work history, I’d bet she also knew my financial situation. “Sure, doesn’t everyone?” The beer on the table. It was Kona Pale Ale. I’d seen it at the pizza place in Koloa. Kong must be here also. Had I worn out my entertainment value?

  I had a sudden flashback to Morah’s funeral. I saw the flowers, the service, Lu screaming at Kong. Here, before me, was the missing sister. Crazy, control freak, head games—all the descriptions seemed so inadequate.

  Lu had also told Kong he’d never be free of Des. Now, it looked like neither would I, unless she decided to rid herself of me. I thought about how she’d set me up and how gullible I’d been. We’d even left CJ’s car at Home Depot where it might not be found by cops for a couple of days. Her lies had been the perfect bait, reeling me in hook, line and sinker as easily as if I’d been a hungry tuna.

  “Kong said you were a quick wit. Well, Mr. Quick Wit, I expected more of you. You were way too easy.”

  My heart sank, or maybe it was my stomach trying to come up. Either way, this was definitely bad. Would Nancy from Hanapepe wonder who I was when she did her daily search for her relatives in the obits? Would anyone notice? I said, “Somebody’s beer piddled on the table. That’s going to leave a helluva ring.”

  “Do you really want to talk about housecleaning chores?”

  “No, I want to know about this job offer. I could use some cash. What did you have in mind?”

  Des inspected a fingernail, then frowned. “I don’t think you’re right for it.”

  “I like money. I like living. We could work something out.”

  “What do you think, Roger? Would McKenna be a good fit for us?”

  Roger had been so quiet I’d almost forgotten about him. I craned my neck to get a look at him. He stood, leaning against the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze locked onto mine while he gave me a placating smile—mouth closed, no teeth showing, but lips curled. “I can work with anyone, Des.”

  It was the most he’d said since I’d gotten here. “Well, glad to hear it,” I said. “Is there anyone else I should meet?”

  The way Des shook her head reminded me of a parent ready to scold a child.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  “See, there you go again, asking questions.”

  “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “You can’t help yourself.” Des planted both feet on the floor. Her posture was relaxed, her demeanor casual. She seemed unconcerned about me or the gun or much of anything at that point. Was this another head game? Her grip on the little pistol was so loose that one good bump should knock it to the floor.

  For the briefest of moments, I considered trying to overpower her. No way, I thought. Des was strong. I’d already felt her strength at the beach when she forced me into the car. No doubt, this was another test and she knew she could overpower me—then there was Roger. Instead of taking the opening, as I suspected she wanted me to do, I said, “So you’re the one who stole my identity and sold it to Morah.”

  Des reacted as though she’d been slapped. There was a fire in her eyes I hadn’t seen before. “I didn’t sell that bitch anything.”

  “So how’d she get my checks? My identity?”

  “She stole them.”

  “That’s why you hate her so much, she stole from you what you’d stolen from me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We didn’t steal from you. All we do is find holes in the system. There’s no victim. It’s clean and profitable. The banks are the ones stealing from you. We’re just taking from those who have plenty.”

  “I got hurt. My credit could have been screwed. What about the merchants?”

  “Quit whining. What does Najar know?”

  So that’s what this was all about. She might as well have asked me what he didn’t know. “I have no idea. I already told you everything I told him.” She wasn’t impressed.

  “I told you not to lie to me.” She nonchalantly tossed the gun onto the couch next to her, then reached into the pocket of her jeans. She pulled out the knife I’d seen earlier. This didn’t look good. I gulped. “Uh, look, he might have said he’s searching for a brother and sister team that run the identity theft gang. He thinks it’s Kong and you, but doesn’t have enough proof to arrest you.”

  “Much better. See how easy that was.” She sat back, apparently satisfied.

  I added, “He may be putting this place under surveillance.”

  Des grabbed my right hand so fast that I yelped. She yanked my hand to her, then jammed the knife point against my palm with enough pressure to make a slight indentation, but not pierce the skin.

  “Okay. Okay. I made up the last part. He doesn’t know where you live. I swear.” Des didn’t release my hand, but let me slump back into my chair. My voice cracked, “Why are you doing this to me? I haven’t done anything to you.”

  “You would.”

  She fixed me with brown eyes devoid of compassion. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst through my chest. The sweat on my palms didn’t seem to bother Des in the least, her grip remained strong, but I saw changes in her body. This encounter excited her. She was a master manipulator and a bully. How long had she been this way? At least since tenth grade, I thought.

  Des took the knife away from my palm. I felt relief until she shoved it in front of my face. Though I didn’t want to focus on it, all I saw was the blade; all I heard was her voice. “I want to know one more thing. And if you lie to me again, you’ll see how sharp this is.”

  I nodded, more like shook all over, in affirmation. I had it. No lies, no games. I only wanted to get away from this woman.

  “Why did you accuse Antoine of spending the weekend with Morah?”

  I let out a ragged breath. I felt like someone was running a low electrical current through my body. “I followed the clues, tracked him down. He admitted it.”

  “How did you find out about it?”

  Des might still be angry, but there was a new emotion coming into play. I couldn’t tell if it was jealousy or anger, but I wasn’t the sole focus of her attention anymore. This distraction was the first sign of weakness I’d seen in her. “Like I said, I followed the clues. Same as I did for the explosion.”

  She let go of my hand. I thought we were done, but she pulled her chair closer, planted both hands on her thighs, and leaned into me. Her words came out slowly and clearly, as though I was deaf. “What about the explosion?”

  “I was walking around the complex, you know, trying to visualize what happened that night. I noticed every tenant who was home had his screen door open.”

  “So?” she barked.

  “The apartments aren’t insulated well. And, with the cost of electricity being as high as it is here, those people couldn’t afford to run the air conditioning even if it worked. I’m like that at home, can’t run the air all the time, so I keep the windows open. Anyway, the landlord doesn’t take care of the locks, so anyone could walk into any of those apartments whenever someone’s home.”

  I wrapped my arms around my sides in hopes of rubbing away the chill permeating my body. How in the world was I going to get out of this?

  Des plucked the pistol off the couch, then stood and began to pace. “They’re all the same?”

  Oh, crap. Had I unleashed a string of home burglaries
on those poor tenants? If I lied, they’d still figure it out. My shoulders slumped, I was defeated. “Yes. All the same.”

  “Nice to know.” She tossed the pistol to Roger and pocketed the knife. “Put it back in the car.”

  He nodded before slipping out the door.

  It looked like the Q&A was over. I doubted I would make it past the session with Kong. “If it were up to me, I’d kill you right here and now. But Kong wants a few minutes with you also. It appears you lied to him, too. He’d like to personally let you know how he feels about your betrayal.”

  The chill in my veins turned to ice. Cold as death. Kong had figured out I’d been using him to learn about the gang. Maybe I’d get lucky and have a heart attack before he started dismembering me. He was probably strong enough to rip my body parts off one by one, all by himself.

  How long, I wondered. How long did I have? “Can I ask you a question?”

  We were alone as she crossed the room to a closet door. All the while, she had one eye on me. I suspected this was another test. She pulled a gun from the closet, this one even bigger than the little pistol from the car. I should have made a move while it was just her and me on the beach. Now, we’d graduated to something that used big-ass bullets. My chances of escape had plummeted to somewhere in the less than zero range unless I could wrestle one of those guns away from her. Fat chance of that happening.

  She shook her head. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “About what, asking questions?”

  “Trying to get this from me. I could put a bullet in your gut or your brain at ten yards.”

  I heard the door. There was Roger, back on guard.

  A smile crossed her lips. “This ought to be fun.” She went to the table where the beer had stopped sweating, but now stood in a pool of water. She pulled the keys from her pocket and placed them on the dining table next to the puddle. She stood, gazing down at this latest temptation for a moment, then nodded to herself. She returned to where I sat and gestured at the door.

  “You want to leave?” she asked.

  I nodded because the dryness in my throat was making it impossible to swallow, let alone answer her.