Kauai Temptations

by Terry Ambrose

  “Take the keys and go.” She turned to Roger, almost as though she were ignoring me. “Open the door.”

  He did as he was told and slipped back outside when Des motioned with her head. We were alone. It didn’t take a genius to recognize her plan. I’d be shot trying to escape. If I had the gun, sure, I could go for it. But, I wasn’t even sure how to release the safety, and she could perform brain surgery with it from across the room. I shook my head and somehow found my voice. “Maybe I’ll stick around for a little bit.” I cleared my throat. “Can I ask a couple of questions? You know, for my story.”

  Based on her heavy sigh, I’d say my reaction hadn’t made her very happy. She pulled a dining table chair across the room until it was about ten feet away. She plopped down with her ankle crossed over her left knee, nothing between me and the door but Des and the cannon on her lap. A sweet smile spread across her face. “Sure, why not? Two, that’s it. Then you’re going to your room to wait for Kong.”

  My room? Were they going to leave me here alone while they made their escape? How long was I going to be here? Now I wanted three questions. I shuddered. Two it was.

  “Where’s Kong?”

  “He’s busy right now. He’ll be here shortly.”

  “Was it you?”

  “Was what me?”

  “Tenth grade. Your math teacher didn’t reorder those test answers, you did. You forced Kong to protect you, didn’t you?”

  The cords in her neck tightened to the point where her teeth gritted. “I should kill you right now. But Kong wants you alive.” She glanced across the room at Roger. “Lock him up.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Roger grabbed my arm and dragged me away. As cooperative as I tried to be, he seemed to relish making sudden moves to cause me pain. The first time was when he jerked me out of my chair. I cried out and he snickered. I resolved to keep my pain inside rather than letting him see it, but he must have decided to escalate. He pulled me toward the kitchen doorway, then gave me a sideways shove, slamming my shoulder into the jamb. The asshole made me wince, but not cry out.

  “My room” turned out to be a storage closet of some sort. At the doorway, Roger pushed me hard enough to send me sprawling onto the floor. I managed a soft landing, just as the door slammed and the room went black. I reached out in front of me. The hard, flat surface of a shelf was just inches from my face. Take that, Roger, you missed.

  I was alone with a minute to think and time for my eyes to adjust. It didn’t take long to find the only source of light in the room, a glowing ribbon leaking in under the bottom edge of the door. The longer I watched the light the more I saw. The illumination extended up the left side of the doorway and was also barely visible across the top. When the light began to pulse, I told myself it was an optical illusion. Time to do something more productive than playing light games.

  I didn’t know what was in this room, a fact that made me reluctant to move, so I sat, closed my eyes, and took stock of my situation. My shoulder ached from Roger’s manhandling, but otherwise, I was unhurt. Around me, the room felt empty, but there had to be something in here. I’d seen shelves just before the room went dark. In fact, I remembered seeing “stuff” on the shelves. What was locked in here besides me?

  The floor seemed like a good place to start, so from my seated position, I felt around me. Nothing. I kneeled facing the doorway and, as my eyes adjusted, grew more confident. I explored the floor through a combination of sight and touch all the way to the door. Nothing again.

  Odd, I thought. No voices. No other sounds, either. The air felt cool and had a faint, unidentifiable chemical odor. I sat, waiting.

  I grew tired of being helpless; it was time to test my boundaries. The faint outlines of shelving extended up from the floor on my right and left. The frame of the shelving was smooth and square with evenly spaced holes. I’d seen the same type many times in hardware stores. Above that bottom shelf, there was only empty blackness. I explored upwards slowly until my fingers bumped against an invisible shelf. Using the frame for balance and orientation, I stood to explore higher. A couple of feet up I found another shelf and one more above that, right about eye level.

  The only sound in the room was my breathing and my heart pounding. Still no voices. It was as though they had abandoned me. It was time to find light, if there was any in here. I faced the door and felt the wall to the right. We all instinctively know the height of a light switch, but this was an old house and, I suspected, had been through a few remodels. On this part of the island, building inspectors and their codes were probably considered purely optional. The switch wasn’t where it should have been, so I traced a route further up, sweeping my hand from doorjamb to sidewall and up. Eventually, the flat wall was interrupted by a hump and a small knob angling downward.

  I closed my eyes, expecting to be temporarily blinded, but the result of flicking the switch was disappointing. The overhead bulb was probably no more than 25 watts, casting barely enough light to even create a shadow. To my right, 18-inch, metal shelving lined the wall; it was the same on the other side and the back wall. My “room” was about 6 feet by 8 feet and painted a dingy off-white. The shelving was covered with boxes, bottles, and paper that seemed to swallow up half of those 25 watts and reduced the floorspace by nearly half. There were no windows or attic access, so I was fresh out of luck in the escape department.

  I hadn’t realized this before, but in scary situations, I get a sudden urge to pee. On the other hand, maybe it had nothing to do with scary situations. Given my success rate with the questions I’d asked Des, I should have just asked one, “Can I use your bathroom?”

  I’d almost expected Des to finish me off early on, but maybe I’d face Kong’s wrath just like the two basketball players who had threatened his sister when she was in 10th grade. Since the time they were kids, this brother and sister team had abused people, but what really pissed me off was that they’d already taken my identity, and now they wanted my life.

  “Kimu.” I whispered.

  Nothing.

  Damn, I thought. How would you summon a ghost that likes to surf? In hushed tones, I tried again. “Kimu!” Still nothing. He was probably upset because I hadn’t listened and had gotten on the “boat” with Des. Des? Of course, she was the woman in the dream—had thrown me the rope—had tempted me. And I’d bet anything she had done the same to Morah.

  I hissed at the darkness. “You could’ve just called it a car. You had to conjure up a pirate ship to show off?” My explanation sounded lame, even to me.

  The longer I was confined, the angrier I became. It felt like the walls were starting to close in. Some jailbird I’d make. No wonder I’d never wanted to be a criminal. How in the hell was I going to get out of this? I closed my eyes and hung my head. The next thing I knew, I was again seeing the Garden Isle from the window of the plane—blue ocean, green soaring mountains and a serenity seemed to hang over the island. A calm enveloped me. I could almost hear Kimu talking. “No need worry, McKenna, it got plenty good mana help you through.”

  I took a deep breath, opened my eyes and began to inventory the contents of the shelves. The first thing I found was a box of rags. Whoopie, just what I needed, someone’s laundry. Next, to that were several boxes containing the standard office-supply type stuff: paper, pens, pencils, ink cartridges. There was also a plastic tub half-filled with envelopes addressed to different people. The tub reminded me of my own junk mail droppings, the ones I tossed into a bin for later shredding. There were credit card solicitations along with other offerings, bills, a few postcards and even what looked like a few letters. If these guys were leaving, why not take this stuff along? Unless they were leaving the island.

  “Plenty good mana?” I hissed, “How about a phone that works?”

  I shuffled though the rest of the items in the box, trying to somehow slap a level of organization on them. With my eyes now fully adjusted, it was getting easier for me to read the addresses on the envelope
s. Everything had a return address of Kauai, but I had no idea where these addresses might be located on the island. It seemed pretty obvious that someone had grabbed mail from mailboxes—or taken it from the held mail like they’d done with my checks. This was probably a who’s who listing of future victims. My mail sorting was interrupted by a loud thud, then the sound of a man’s voice.

  “What’s so damned important that I had to come all the way out here? My wife has a stupid party going on and I should be there.” Anger tinged the edges of his voice, which was vaguely familiar, but also muffled and hard to make out.

  I went to the door, placed my ear next to it and recognized the voice immediately. “I’ve got him.” Des.

  “Got who?”

  “That pain in the ass, McKenna.”

  “You what? Have you gone nuts?”

  He bellowed so loudly that there was no need to have my ear against the door. Who was he? It wasn’t Kong. He spoke way too many words for it to be Roger.

  The new voice continued, “I can’t believe you did this!”

  “Well, believe it, Antoine. You’re the one who screwed up. Did you spend the weekend with that bitch?”

  “No way. You know me, baby.”

  “I know you’ve screwed almost every woman on this island.”

  “I told you, I’m done with that.”

  “Tell your wife.” There was a pause, then Des said, “Get away from me.”

  “You are one cold, calculating bitch. You plan every move, don’t you?”

  “Someone around here has to make plans. Everything was fine until I asked you for one simple favor.”

  Were these two involved? Des sounded exactly as Kong had described her. How far would she go to get what she wanted? I suspected she did everything with a purpose. Unless maybe those multiple personalities just made her seem that way.

  “You and Kong are like a couple of schoolboys,” said Des. “You weren’t suspicious when this guy showed up on your door?”

  Antoine’s voice went up a notch; he sounded exasperated. “I told you before; he took me by surprise. You sure didn’t give me a heads up. If I’d have known he was here, things would have been different.”

  “You know what, Antoine, you’re just a hack. You’ve got that fancy law-school education, yet you know nothing. Nothing!”

  “That’s not what you said when you wanted me.” Antoine sounded desperate. The guy was almost screaming, so all I had to do was sit back and listen.

  “I never wanted you. Kong told me to get you working for us. I did it in the quickest, most efficient manner possible. You were a chore, Antoine, just like the ones I had to do as a child.”

  Ouch. Talk about getting personal and fighting dirty. If the lawyer had half a brain, he never would have become involved in this thing. Now, it sounded like he was hung up on a woman who thought of him as nothing more than a tool. In the darkness, I muttered, “What’s that make me?”

  “Sure, Des, if that’s the way you want to play it. Why’s this guy here?”

  Des continued, “If it hadn’t been for dumb luck on his part, he’d already be a statistic. Now, Kong wants to see him and I need a Plan B.”

  “You’ve committed kidnapping. Good God, kidnapping!”

  “Stop being so prissy, Antoine. Think about it. First, he found Kong and got to him. Second, he found you and made the connection. He’s also a victim who’s motivated by revenge, not some 9 to 5 cop we can wait out. We have to get rid of him.”

  A new voice interrupted the argument. “What’s going on in here?” It was Kong. I jumped when the wall vibrated from the slamming of the door. I hoped that wasn’t an indication of what he’d do to me when they let me out. “I could hear you two the second I got out of the car.” His tone leveled off. “Well, Des? What is it?”

  Antoine blurted, “She’s kidnapped that McKenna guy.”

  “For crissakes, Des, now what?”

  Des didn’t sound intimidated at all. She was cool as could be. “He played you, Kong. He’s a reporter from Honolulu.”

  “That ain’t no reason to kidnap him.”

  I pumped my fist. You go, Kong. Tell her. And get me out of here. I have entertainment value.

  “Do I have to explain it to you, too?”

  “Explain what? That you’ve figured out the whole world all over again?”

  “No, you moron, he’s the one who’s got this all figured out. You think you’re this master strategist, but you miss all the details. Would you listen to me for a change?”

  “You think I didn’t know there was something funny about him? His appearance was way too convenient. We need to pack this place up and split. If he found us, Najar can’t be far behind.” Good thinking, Kong. Pack it up, get out. I glanced around my little room. Would they leave me here? I searched the shelves in hopes of finding something to help me escape.

  “For once, we agree, brother dear. We have to leave, but he’s also got to go. Najar’s an idiot. This McKenna guy didn’t tell him anything new, so we’re safe as long as we all disappear. Him, too.”

  “I’ve got to agree with Des. There’s nothing to connect us so far.”

  “Shut up, Antoine, you don’t know shit.”

  Go ahead, Kong, smack ‘em down! I slipped into a boxer’s stance. My man Kong would deal with these two.

  “Sis, I don’t feel like getting life for murder. And when I told you I was going to talk to him, I didn’t intend for you to run out and grab him.”

  Des laughed. “Oh, Kong. I saved him just for you. It’s not like you haven’t done it before.”

  “That was different. He had it coming.”

  My hopes of getting out alive tanked. Was he referring to the guy in Honolulu? Someone else? Morah? No, Kong had said “he had it coming.”

  “You were pissed off, that’s why he had it coming. Why don’t you get pissed at this dufus?”

  “He’s mad cause we ripped him off, I get that. I can deal with him.”

  Antoine said, “We’ve got too much on the line here. I’ve got a family to think of.”

  “You shoulda thought of that before you started screwing my sister.” There was silence, then Kong’s voice again. “Oh, you two thought I didn’t know? I’m disappointed in you, Sis, you never used to underestimate me so much.”

  “If we take him to the west side, maybe drop him off somewhere, they’ll never find him. He just disappears.” It was Antoine’s idea, not one that I liked very much, but I liked it a whole lot more than the killing option.

  I gulped. It was clear to me that there were three people in that room capable of doing me in under the right circumstances. If it came to a vote, Kong would be outvoted. I didn’t like the prolonged silence. Were they actually considering Antoine’s stupid idea? I could probably reason with Kong. What if I couldn’t? I had nothing to lose so I banged on the door. “Hey, can I make a suggestion?”

  Needless to say, my offer to help the kidnappers resolve their problem wasn’t well received. At first there was cursing, Kong for sure, probably Antoine, too. Then there was Des laughing.

  “Outside,” yelled Kong.

  There was foot stomping. More cursing. Then a door slammed and it was quiet.

  I was alone. For how long? Long enough to escape? I went back to inspecting the shelf contents. Cans of paint. Brushes and rollers. A toolbox containing a pair of pliers, a screwdriver and a hammer. I also found three boxes of clothing. A couple of minutes later, I came across a gallon of Muriatic acid and, right next to that, another of acetone. Next to those was a box that contained several pint-sized mason jars, bottles of Heet, coffee filters, iodine, hydrogen peroxide, rubber gloves and more. I stared at the box contents, then recalled the list of meth ingredients. It was all here. A meth lab. In this room. No wonder it had smelled like chemicals. One of these three had the experience and ingredients to put together the bomb that had killed Morah. That meant one of them was her killer. Right now, outside the house, that person was arguing about wh
at to do with me.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  The silence outside the room continued. I’d seen a back door. If I could get to it, maybe I could escape. But first, I needed to get out of this little cell. My eyes had adjusted enough that I could examine the doorknob. It was old, green and white with corrosion from the persistent salt in the air. The hinges were on the outside because the door opened into the kitchen. That meant I couldn’t pop the hinges, but maybe I could use the trick that Hal the locksmith had told me about.

  The first thing I needed to do was remove at least part of the interior door trim. Based on what I’d seen, both of the necessary tools, a hammer and a screwdriver, were locked in here with me. I went back to the box and pulled both from the toolkit. I also grabbed some rags in hopes of muffling the sound.

  By scoring the paint with the blade of the screwdriver first, I was able to insert the blade between the trim and the frame, then tap a few times with the hammer. My attempt at sound suppression was basically worthless. Every tap sounded like a gunshot inside my little prison, but neither Kong nor Des came running. They must still be outside.

  Once the blade of the screwdriver was behind the trim, I began to pry. I worked on different sections until I had it far enough away from the frame to try step two.

  I pulled out my wallet and credit card. My credit card wasn’t worth squat given my current financial situation. How ironic that it was about to save my life. I inserted the card between the door and jamb. It went straight through and the door drifted open. I stared in wonder. Well, how about that? I was going to be free, maybe. I set down my tools and took the first tentative step.

  Inside, the house was silent. But, I could hear the three of them. They were still arguing outside. Did that mean they were having a huge blow up over my fate? I didn’t want to stick around to hear their verdict. I peeked into the dining room; my cell phone was on the table next to a key ring. Out in the front yard in the shade, Kong looked pissed, Des had her arms folded over her chest in a smug “smarter-than-thou” attitude and Antoine was nothing more than the third wheel. Where was Roger? Still gone? I could only hope.