Hunting Houston

by Sandy Steen

  “Maybe it will, in time.”

  “Maybe. So,” he said, smiling, “what’s on your agenda for today?”

  “Not much. I have to check on a few things, and—”

  “Check on a few things?”

  “To see if something I asked about at one of the galleries on Front Street has arrived. The lady told me to check back in a couple of days.” As cover-ups went, it wasn’t great. But it didn’t have to be, as long as Houston bought it. And, thank heaven, he did.

  “Well, since you’re going to be in my neck of the woods, how about I buy you lunch? Say, around eleventhirty at the Hard Rock Café?”

  “I’d love too. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Great. Then it’s settled.” He kissed her hard and quick. “Grab your shoes. We’ve got to go.”

  Twenty minutes later, when he kissed her again, this time it was goodbye. She had insisted he not see her to her door, but drop her off and go straight into work. Smiling, she waved as he and the T-Bird disappeared out of sight. Once he was gone, her smile faded and her spirits drooped. Last night had been an idyllic reprieve from reality, but it was time to face her responsibilities.

  Inside the condo, Abby checked for messages or faxes and, finding none, headed for the shower. She was surprised that there had been nothing from Brax, but, at the same time, she was relieved. He knew as well as she did that the lab tests would take time. What he didn’t know was that she was certain the evidence would show that the catamaran had been deliberately destroyed.

  Now, all she had to do was link Leland to the torch, and they had him. But unless she had a miracle or two up her sleeve, she didn’t have the vaguest idea how to make that happen. The man the Seattle police were holding had supposedly never seen the man who hired him. So they couldn’t flash a photo of Leland for identification. The money had always been delivered by messenger service, which had been paid in cash, using a fictitious name. So how did the torch identify someone he had only heard and not seen?

  Simple. By identifying the voice.

  Abby could have kicked herself. Why hadn’t she thought of this before?

  She had to find some way to make a solid connection between Gil and the torch. If a tape of his voice would do the trick, then that’s what she had to do. Abby checked the batteries in her microrecorder, and made sure she had a clean tape. This afternoon she would go to the dive shop and engage Leland in conversation in order to record his voice. She could overnight the tape to Seattle and, if she was lucky, the identification and the results of the lab tests would get back to her at about the same time. Then she would have Gil Leland right where she wanted him. Caught.

  Of course, when she did, she would also have to tell Houston the truth.

  That meant her time with him was running out. That meant that the best thing ever to come into her life was a couple of days, maybe less, from walking away. And she would be alone again.

  She still had the choice of putting distance between herself and Houston. She could still…

  Who was she kidding? She could no more stay away from him now than she could meet that shark face-toface again. Houston was in her heart, in her soul. She would never be free of him. More accurately, free of his memory. Because that was all she would have of him when he found out who she was. And, as far as she could see, there was no way to nab Leland without Houston learning the truth. Sooner or later, probably sooner, she would have to face his anger and pain. She would have to see the look of tenderness in his eyes turn to hate.

  Her fingers touched the locket. She hadn’t taken it off since he’d put it on her, and she didn’t ever want to. Eventually, she would have to remove it, because the feel of it against her skin would be a painful reminder of what she had lost. Yes, eventually she would lock the gift away because the memory would be too hurtful to relive.

  But she would never be able to lock away the love in her heart, or the pain of losing Houston.

  With a battered but still-steady spirit, she got dressed and went into Lahaina to meet him for lunch. She knew time was slipping through her fingers. She had to make every moment count.

  Lunch was a fun, noisy affair with lots of locals, as well as tourists, packed into the popular restaurant. Abby was determined to enjoy every minute of the time she had left with Houston. Which wasn’t hard to do, since he seemed to know and be known by so many people that they were hardly left to themselves for more than a few minutes at a time. Several shop owners dropped by their table to say hello and exchange a bit of business talk. A couple of the hula teachers who performed the free hula show at Lahaina Center stopped by, and Houston was quick to introduce Abby as a “very special lady.” When he did, he reached across the table to hold her hand. The young women got the message, and even teased Houston about giving his heart to a mainlander.

  “They were right about one thing,” he said when they had gone.

  “What’s that?”

  “I have given my heart to a mainlander.” Still holding her hand, he traced a finger over her knuckles and up her wrist. “Abby, your vacation can’t last forever—”

  “Houston-”

  At that moment the two couples at the table next to them burst into laughter, and Abby thanked her lucky stars. The conversation was turning serious, and she didn’t want that now. She cupped her hand to her ear. “What? I can’t hear you very well.”

  He looked at her for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to pursue his train of thought. “Never mind,” he said, raising his voice to be heard. “We’ll talk about it later.”

  How many more times could she put him off? How long could she stall?

  “I’d like to take you out to dinner tonight and show you off,” he said when they left the café.

  “Show me off? Next thing I know, you’ll be beating your chest, saying, ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane,”’ she teased.

  “Hey, I never claimed to be a man of the nineties. I just want to take you someplace nice. Not real fancy, just…nice.”

  “Okay. I suppose I can find something suitable for ‘nice’ in my closet.”

  He ran his hand down the side of her neck and over her shoulder. “But no more little buttons.”

  Abby shivered from the sensual electricity his touch unleashed. “You know, it’s a good thing we’re in public.”

  “You think so?”

  “If we weren’t, I’d be tempted to really kiss right now.”

  “So, give in to temptation.”

  He leaned down, and she met him halfway for a kiss that left no doubt in her mind what they would be doing if they weren’t in public.

  “I’ll see you at eight,” he said, reluctantly dragging himself away from her lips.

  The “someplace nice” turned out to be the North Beach Grill at the Embassy Suites Resort. The restaurant was on the beach, and had a spectacular view of the ocean. Several saltwater aquariums, pools and gardens divided the space up into five cozy dining areas. While Houston ordered a full rack of baby back ribs, Abby settled on the scampi Provençale.

  “You’ve got to taste this Killer Sourdough Bread,” he insisted, reaching for one of the four wedges the waiter had brought to their table.

  “Killer, huh?”

  “No.” He laughed. “That’s the name.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Scout’s honor. Here, try this.”

  Abby bit into the wedge of bread he offered, and had to admit, it was indeed “killer.” “Oh, my gosh.” She licked a crumb from the corner of her mouth. “That’s incredible stuff.”

  “It’s got four kinds of cheese and garlic. Lots of garlic.”

  She reached for her own slice. “I hope you’re eating some in self-defense.”

  Grinning, he polished off the remains of the piece she had just taken a bite of, then wiped his mouth. “Does that mean I can expect to be kissed before the night’s over?”

  “You can’t tell what might happen before the night’s…” Abby’s voice trailed off as she glanced
over Houston’s shoulder, and saw Gil Leland.

  “What?” Houston whipped his head around to see what had caught her attention. Naturally, he waved Gil over to their table. As he made his way toward them, Abby thought she saw him weave once or twice, and guessed he had been drinking.

  “Hey, how y’all doing?” Gil slapped his partner on the back.

  “We’re doing great. You remember Abby?”

  “Yes, I do. And at the risk of ruffling my partner’s feathers, may I say, Miss Douglass.” He took her hand, lifted it to his lips for a kiss, and it was all Abby could do to keep from jerking it away. “You are a vision.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “Thank you.” When he released her hand, she put it out of sight in her lap and used her napkin to wipe off the spot his mouth had touched. Her observation had been correct; he had been drinking. The worst part was, she knew Houston would invite him to join them, and he did.

  “Well, maybe just for a drink,” Gil said when Houston made the predicted offer. “Then I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” He signaled a waitress, and ordered a gin and tonic.

  Abby didn’t miss the tight edge around the word “lovebirds.” Houston, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to the nuance. It took all of her self-control to sit across the table from this man and exchange pleasantries. In her opinion he was vile beyond belief. Fortunately, she could concentrate on eating her meal.

  “So, Abby,” Gil said, directing the conversation to her. “Have you been completely seduced by paradise yet?”

  “It’s hard to resist.” She noticed he’d emphasized another word—so slightly one would have had to really be listening to catch it. It was no accident that the word this time was “seduced.” Leland was no fool, and it certainly didn’t take a genius to see that she and Houston were close. For all she knew, Houston could even have confided his feelings for her to his best friend. The thought made her skin crawl, but it was reasonable. Leland didn’t like her, no matter how much charm he spread. Now she knew he was more than a little jealous of his partner. For an instant she wished she had thrown her recorder into her purse, but then decided Leland was too far gone. His speech was slightly slurred.

  “Yeah, Houston and I dreamed about living here most of our lives. Right, slick?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Now we got us a sweet little setup going. Took us a while, but we’re finally sitting pretty.”

  Gil is, at least, Abby thought. He certainly had a sweet setup. The question was, how long did he think he could get away with dipping into company funds without drawing the attention of the CPA, much less his partner? And if Gil had half the gambling problem she thought he did, even if he had covered himself now with the insurance money, it wouldn’t be enough. Sooner or later, he would get in over his head again. What then? Back to juggling Lone Star’s books? Eventually, he would be discovered.

  And no matter when or how that happened, Houston would be devastated.

  Gil tossed down the last of his drink and stood. “Guess I better make myself scarce. Y’all enjoy your dinner. And partner, if I were you, I wouldn’t waste my time with dessert when you’ve got a dish like that for company.”

  “Are you headed home?” Houston asked.

  “You bet.”

  “Good. See you tomorrow.”

  “You bet.” He tipped an invisible hat to Abby. “So long, beautiful.” With that, he turned and made his way out of the restaurant.

  “He’s, uh-”

  “In his cups? I believe that’s the nautical term,” Abby finished for him.

  “That, and rude.”

  His assessment surprised her, softened her attitude about the encounter. “It’s all right.”

  “No. It’s not. That last remark about dessert was uncalled for. I would have said something to him at the moment, but he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. Sometimes he’s about as mature as that group of water babies that hang around the dock. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. It won’t happen again.”

  Smiling, she put her hand over his. “Thanks. I could get used to having you around all the time to defend my honor.”

  He looked into her eyes. “I could get used to having you around all the time, period.”

  She couldn’t face the questions she knew he wanted to ask. Where did they go from here? What happened when her vacation was over? He had no way of knowing those questions were irrelevant. And there was only one way she knew to distract him from those questions.

  “You know how to flatter a girl’s ego.”

  “We aim to please, ma’am.”

  “I can certainly testify to that.”

  He looked at her and smiled. “Are you flirting with me?”

  “Well…” Under the table she put her hand on his knee. “We could go back to your place and find out.”

  And find out he did. That night their lovemaking was wild and fierce. Their kisses sizzled and sparked. And when their bodies joined, it was as if a madness overcame Abby, and she in turn passed it on to him. There were no soft words and gentle caresses, only need. Desperate, burning need. Need they satisfied, then recreated.

  And in the morning Abby distracted him again. And again. Leaving little time for talk.

  Chapter 13

  The moment of truth, Abby thought, her hand poised over the telephone. The lab results from the fiberglass and the bell should be available today. All she had to do was pick up the phone and call. One phone call, and she would know for sure if the explosion was deliberate or accidental.

  One phone call, and it would all be over. Including her relationship with Houston.

  She pulled her hand away. She couldn’t do this. But if she didn’t, someone else would. The investigation wouldn’t end once it was determined that the boat had been deliberately exploded—as Abby felt certain would be the case. No, she had to do it.

  Before she could lose her nerve, she picked up the phone and dialed. Fifteen minutes later she had her answer. Thirty minutes later, she had the printed report via fax.

  The gas chromatograph test showed a small amount of nitrate as well as fuel oil like the kind used in galleys. And they had been able to verify that the bell attached to the fiberglass had indeed been engraved with the name Two of a Kind, along with a date.

  There it was in black-and-white. Proof positive that the “accident” was no accident at all. This information alone was enough to ensure that a full-scale investigation, probably involving not only the insurance company but the local authorities as well, was imminent. She had what she needed, what she had come to Maui to find.

  Cause. The explosion was caused by the nitrate and an incendiary device, probably activated by a timer.

  Opportunity for cause. Gil Leland had all the opportunity in the world. He had the connections to hire a torch.

  Origin of fire. The explosion had probably taken place in the galley, hence the fuel oil mixed with the explosive material.

  Motive.

  The one piece of the puzzle yet to be proved. But she knew who had the strongest motive.

  She had enough. Abby had worked on cases with considerably less information and seen them solidify, once the district attorney’s office and lawyers for the insurance company went to work.

  So, her job was done. It wasn’t up to her to prove Leland’s guilt beyond a shadow of a doubt. With what she had gathered so far, the next step of the investigation would probably be Leland’s arrest, and seizure of all company records. It wouldn’t be long before the truth—all of the truth—came out.

  And she wouldn’t even need to get a recording of Leland’s voice. The Maui district attorney’s office would probably be glad to take over that task once Gil was in custody. She would be willing to bet money that his bail would be high, considering the possible risk of flight.

  The phrase “willing to bet” echoed through her head. All of this was about money. Leland needed it to cover his debts. The torch needed it to do the job. The insurance company needed it back. But there
wasn’t enough money on earth to cover her need. She needed Houston. And after today she would need a new heart, because the one she had would be shattered.

  Very carefully, she gathered up all of her notes, the file, the faxes, and stacked them together. Then she placed the printed report from the forensic lab on top of the pile.

  Houston answered the phone when she called the dive shop.

  “Hey. I didn’t expect to hear from you until tonight.”

  “I—I… I need to talk to you, Houston.”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “We need to talk. Privately, if that’s possible.”

  “I think Stuart can cover for me for a while. Abby, are you okay? You sound… strange.”

  “I’m fine, really.” Undoubtedly the biggest lie she had told yet, but it was necessary.

  “Would you like to go to my place?”

  “No,” she insisted. There were too many wonderful memories associated with his house. She didn’t want to tarnish them.

  “All right, then. I’ll come to the condo.”

  “How…how soon can you get here?”

  “In twenty minutes, but Abby—”

  “Please, Houston. This is difficult enough. I’ll explain everything once you get here.”

  “All right. I’ll be there as quick as I can,” he said, and hung up.

  While she waited, Abby tried to think of all the happy moments they had shared. She tried to hang on to the memories, draw strength from them. Time crawled by. She checked the stack of notes twice just to keep her hands from shaking. It didn’t work.

  She jumped at the knock on her door.

  He came straight in, and took her in his arms. “You scared the hell out of me. What’s wrong?”

  Abby stood in his embrace, her soul crying out to respond, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.

  She slipped out of his arms and walked over to the table. “Houston, please. I promised you I would explain everything, and I will. Only…only I need you to sit down.” She gestured to the sofa. “And listen to what I have to say.”