Wings in the Dark

by Michael Murphy

  Billy held the flashlight while I slipped the file from my pocket and inserted it in the lock. Seconds later, the tumbler turned. I blew on the ends of my fingertips. “It’s all in the touch.”

  Laura took the flashlight, and Billy and I entered Kalua’s office.

  I closed the door and flipped on the light, knowing it wouldn’t be visible from the corridor. The man held different standards for himself than for his employees. The walls, a file cabinet, and a desk were covered with personal items, including pictures of Kalua’s family and of him posing with various dignitaries.

  I pulled open the top drawer. A bottle of scotch. From what Billy said earlier and this booze, it was clear Kalua was a drinker. I showed the bottle to Billy. “A shot of this might take care of your asthma better than gum.”

  “No, thanks.” He peered through the closed blinds of the office window into the alley. “The car’s still there. No sign of that girl…I mean those three punks.”

  I chuckled to myself. Billy had a crush.

  He browsed the office walls and pointed to a framed picture of Kalua and a gentle-looking man, perhaps ten years his junior. “That’s his brother, Ihe Kalua.”

  I sorted through a stack of papers on Kalua’s desk. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. I found nothing of interest until the last sheet, a week-old letter from his brother.

  In it, Ihe criticized his brother’s role in bringing Amelia Earhart to Hawaii. He went on to complain about the evils of American influence on Hawaiian heritage and recounted the determination and rising number of “Royalists.” He spent the last two paragraphs reminiscing about growing up when Hawaii was ruled by a monarchy.

  “Hmmm.”

  “What?”

  I handed Billy the letter while I finished searching through the desk drawers. The bottom drawer revealed a snub-nosed pistol. A closer look showed it was loaded, as I’d expected.

  Billy let out a whistle. “Why would he keep a loaded pistol in his desk?”

  “The neighborhood. Maybe he worked late sometimes and this made him feel safer. Maybe he was a cautious fellow, or perhaps he expected trouble.”

  The pistol reminded me of my responsibility to keep Laura and Billy alive. For a moment, I considered taking the gun, but I didn’t want to leave any evidence we’d been here. His secretary probably knew he kept a pistol in his desk.

  Billy dropped the letter back on the desk. “The two brothers were estranged from each other over their political beliefs. Almost like our civil war, which often pitted brother against brother.”

  He set his cap on the desk and stuffed another stick of gum in his mouth, while I spent the next few minutes searching through the file cabinet in the corner. The cabinet was stuffed with letters, papers, and financial statements that confirmed Kalua’s connection with American business interests.

  Billy’s fears seemed to have dissipated. As he chewed, he gazed around the office. “Kalua’s a prominent political figure and active in the Islands’ push for statehood. His brother wants to return the monarchy to power. That could be a motive.”

  Billy was right about a possible motive, but I couldn’t image brother shooting brother. Still, I’d seen stranger things during my gumshoe days.

  I studied the pictures on the wall, of Kalua as a young man standing before rows and rows of pineapples with a white house in the background. I looked closer and realized the plantation was the same one Laura and I had ridden the rented bicycles past earlier today.

  At the end of the wall was a photo of a family posed in front of the large white house on the plantation. Judging from Kalua’s youthful appearance, the picture was taken ten or so years ago. He was next to a heavyset woman his age—his wife, no doubt. He had one arm around his brother, Ihe, who stood beside a frail white-haired man who must’ve been their father—happier days before Hank inherited the family estate.

  The picture beside it was a framed newspaper article with a photo of Kalua and two other men. The caption mentioned Kalua and two businessmen, Taylor and Benedict, who’d helped put up the ten thousand to entice Amelia to cross the Pacific. “What do you know about the other members of the group?”

  “They were all business rivals. Marcus Taylor is a grower and Lyle Benedict runs a shipping line, but they set aside their differences for the good of Hawaii’s future. Though if you think either might’ve been involved in Mr. Kalua’s murder, Taylor left for Los Angeles two weeks ago and isn’t expected back for another month. The paper said Benedict is on a fishing trip to Molokai. They’ll be back in time for Miss Earhart’s flight, but neither could’ve pulled the trigger.”

  Perhaps they financed a hit against their business rival—but with a financial stake in Amelia’s flight, neither would’ve wanted Kalua shot in her hangar.

  Laura came into the room, wearing a smirk, and closed the door behind her. She set the flashlight on the desk and handed me a black book. “You were right, darling. Men do keep secrets in their offices. At least this one did.”

  As Billy glanced over my shoulder, I flipped through the pages of Hank Kalua’s appointment calendar. The kid was standing too close and a whiff of spearmint hit me.

  “Do you mind?”

  Billy stepped back. “Just trying to help.”

  The book contained names, dates, phone numbers, the works. I glanced up from the pages to Laura. “Why don’t you save me some time and tell me what caused your grin?”

  Laura flipped to another page and pointed to a man’s handwriting, presumably Kalua’s. “Three weeks ago Kalua entered a brief note. ‘Dinner with Fanny,’ next to a phone number.”

  Could the dinner date really be Amelia’s grease-monkey mechanic?

  Billy glanced at the book. “That’s Fanny Chandler’s phone number.”

  How did Billy know?

  It was as if Billy read my mind. “Mr. Putnam often has me place a call for him.”

  That made sense.

  Billy acted more shocked than Laura and me. “Why would Fanny Chandler be in Hank Kalua’s appointment calendar?”

  Was the kid really that green? “Maybe he called to offer her a deal on pineapples.”

  Understanding swept over Billy’s face. He dropped into the chair like he’d been knocked over by the news. “You think they were…were fooling around?”

  Laura burst out laughing. “Yes, Billy. It seems Mr. Kalua, the family man, had been seeing Amelia Earhart’s friend, fellow flyer, and mechanic.”

  “Fanny.” Billy shook his head.

  The pages after that entry showed the same phone number and a couple of places where Kalua had initialed FC. “This is damn explosive.”

  “I’m thinking we should be going.” Billy checked his watch. “What happens if someone shows up at the front door?”

  I shrugged. “We jump out the window, I guess.”

  “It’s three stories!” He peered out the window. “There is a fire escape.”

  I never entered somewhere I was uninvited without an escape plan. I’d noticed the fire escape from the alley. “Well, there you go.”

  I flipped through the book. Laura might have solved the case. Had Hank Kalua come to the hangar to see his lover, Fanny?

  Laura leaned closer to me and gazed at the open book. Her perfume smelled a hell of a lot better than Billy’s spearmint. “Darling, if Kalua arranged to meet Fanny at the hangar, do you think he was breaking things off? Or perhaps she was. Something didn’t go well, she shot him and ran to her car. When George showed up, she couldn’t drive off, so she came in as if she’d just arrived.”

  We needed to talk to Fanny. “Sex, a woman scorned, and a bullet to the heart.”

  Laura’s eyes widened. “Jake Donovan. Blackie Doyle returns!”

  There was a chance the idea of Kalua and Fanny was fiction. I ran a hand over my forehead. “I wonder whether Amelia or Putnam knew Fanny was having a relationship with Kalua.”

  Billy shook his head. “No one did, or would have suspected. I mean, I never saw her
without her mechanic’s coveralls on.”

  I smiled. “But you wanted to?”

  Billy blushed. “I didn’t mean it that way. And even if she scrubbed away some of the grease from her nails, the guy was at least fifty, twice Fanny’s age.”

  Laura slipped her arm through mine. “Jake’s older than me.”

  “Not that much older.” I patted her hand. “Billy, I don’t suppose you know where Fanny Chandler lives?”

  “Why would I know that?”

  “You knew her number.”

  “Was Fanny jealous of Amelia’s success?” Laura asked Billy.

  “They’ve been rivals for at least five years in flying competitions, but always in good fun. And it was Miss Earhart’s idea to hire Fanny as a mechanic for this flight.”

  “But the plane has had plenty of mechanical problems since you arrived.”

  “If you’re suggesting Fanny might’ve sabotaged the plane, you’re off base, Mr. Donovan. She’d never do that.”

  The kid was smart, but not when it came to dames or what ran the world—lust, greed, and revenge, the really important things. “Like she’d never fool around with a rich married man?”

  I sat on the edge of the desk and searched one more time for anything that would shed light on the man’s activities. On the back inside cover of the calendar was an address, next to the initials FC. The location was not too far from Wheeler Field. I jotted the address on a notepad, tore the sheet off, and stuffed it into my jacket pocket.

  I went back to the first entry, flipping through the pages, and found what appeared to be meetings with Hank’s brother, Ihe, at the Kana Bar. How many other secrets could be found in the man’s appointment book if I had more time?

  Footsteps sounded in the corridor and someone inserted a key into a lock.

  Billy leaped off the chair and ran to the window. He tugged on the frame and the window slid open with a slight squeak.

  “Damn.” I wanted more time to examine the book, but we’d had our chance. I flipped off the office light. With great reluctance, I left the appointment book on Kalua’s desk and hurried toward the window.

  The voices grew louder. It had to be Detective Tanaka. We had maybe a minute to get away. “Go, Billy.”

  He slipped through the window and hopped on the fire escape.

  Now footsteps came from the lobby, then lights from the next room shot beneath the door, into Kalua’s office.

  Laura gathered her gown and whispered, “You want me to climb out a window in this?”

  “Out,” I whispered. “Now.”

  I helped Laura out the window. Material snagged and tore, but she climbed down the stairs and dropped onto the alley behind the building.

  I followed, closing the window and ducking down as Tanaka entered Kalua’s office and flipped on the light.

  I clambered down the fire escape, dropped into the alley, slipped, and fell on my hands and knees.

  I rose and wiped the black smudge from my hands with a handkerchief. My tuxedo pocket was ripped, and a plate-sized patch of sludge stained my trouser leg from my earlier slip outside the office building.

  We made it just in time. I started for the car at the end of the alley, then grabbed Billy’s arm. “Where’s your Giants hat?”

  “My giant hat?”

  “Giants. The New York Giants, a baseball team. Amelia gave it to you before we left the hotel. You were wearing it when we entered the office.”

  He patted his head. “I must’ve…”

  “Son of a bitch, Billy. You left it on Kalua’s desk.”

  The kid glanced up at the office window, where we’d made our escape. For a moment, I thought he was going to cry. “Sorry, Jake.”

  “Oh, well, as long as you’re sorry, everything’s just hunky-dory.”

  “J-Jake.” Laura stammered and a worried look flashed across her face. “We have bigger problems.” She pointed to the car. “Company.”

  I turned and faced the three teenage thugs.

  The leader pointed to the top of the fire escape. “Hey, fellas. Someone’s been breaking and entering.” He chuckled and gestured toward me with his knife. “We need to revisit our earlier agreement.”

  Whitey stood behind Laura, and the girl stood behind Billy. She ran a hand through his hair. “Where’s your cap, shark bait?”

  The leader stepped toward me and stopped close enough for me to tell the brand of sausage he had for dinner. “This time, empty your wallet, Tuxedo Man.”

  Chapter 8

  Billy the Kid

  Facing the three teenage punks, my primary focus was to protect my wife and Billy, but I had no intention of giving them any more dough. I didn’t take my eyes off the tough-guy leader as I reached into my pocket and tossed Laura the car keys. “Laura, you and Billy wait in the car. I’ll just be a minute taking care of these bums.”

  The leader’s lip curled in disgust. “By ‘taking care of,’ I hope you’re referring to turning over the contents of your wallet.”

  Whitey stepped between Laura and the Oldsmobile. “You ain’t going nowheres, doll.”

  The girl ran her fingers over Billy’s hair again. He looked about as tough as a sack full of kittens.

  To my surprise Billy spun away from her. “That’s enough.”

  Angry men, even those as young as Billy, couldn’t be pushed around like frightened ones.

  The girl let out a quick bark of laughter. “So, you can be a tough guy. I like tough guys. Billy? Billy the Kid. How old are you?”

  “Nineteen.”

  The leader hawked a load of spit beside the girl’s shoe. “Enough, Wahini. I’m trying to conduct business.”

  “No one’s stopping you. He’s as cute as a bug’s ear, don’t you think?” She kissed Billy on the lips, her face against his like a gas mask.

  Billy’s arms flailed like a wounded seagull as she prolonged the kiss.

  When she let go, the girl laughed, pulled something from her mouth, and showed Billy the gum he’d been chewing. “Spearmint. My favorite.” She popped it back into her mouth.

  Billy’s eyes widened and his hand went to his face.

  I tried not to smile, but failed. Still, we were in a jam, and I had to get us out of it.

  Laura didn’t appear worried, but she was an actress. We both knew the behavior of teenage punks was harder to predict than that of adults, but giving in to their demands wasn’t the answer.

  Whitey hadn’t taken his blinkers off my wife. “I’ve seen your face before, doll.”

  She glared at him a moment but didn’t reply. If they realized she was a famous actress, they’d want more than the contents of my wallet.

  The leather-jacketed leader broke his silence. “Looks like you’re going to need a new tux, but that’s not my doing or my problem. A guy like you’s got plenty of dough. We’re just asking you to share some of your good fortune.”

  My old cane with the blade in the handle, a gift from Gino in New York, would have come in handy now. My favorite handgun, a Colt .45, was in storage in Los Angeles. That wasn’t doing me any good either. I hadn’t thought I’d need one on my honeymoon. I had no doubt I could disable the overconfident leader and his two backups. I gave my odds at fifty percent for taking all three and getting out of the jam. I was willing to take the chance if I could get Laura and Billy safely into the car.

  I had to talk my way out of this. I’d done so plenty of times with guys tougher than these creeps. I grabbed my wallet. “I’ll cough up the dough after you let Laura and Billy get inside the car.” I nodded toward the Olds.

  While the leader ran one hand over his smooth face, Whitey’s eyes widened in recognition. “You’re…that actress. Laura something.”

  Laura rolled her eyes. “You numbskull. You heard my husband call me Laura. You have a pretty good imagination, kid.”

  “No. Whitey’s right.” The girl snapped her fingers. Yeah. “Midnight Wedding. The food fight was really funny.”

  Laura didn’t blink
. “You and your friends need to scram.”

  I stepped between Whitey and Laura and used an old trick Mickey taught me in New York. I gazed past his shoulder at a nonexistent person and chuckled. When he glanced back to check, I socked him in the chin. As he stumbled backward and collided with his buddy, I shoved the creep against the office building and smashed my elbow into his nose, feeling the satisfying crunch of cracking cartilage.

  He howled, and the knife clattered to the ground, blood shooting from his nose like water from a frozen pipe.

  When the girl pulled the knife on her belt, Billy grabbed her wrist. He bent her hand back, causing her to drop the knife. She looked as shocked as I was as he calmly kicked her weapon across the alley.

  Way to go, Billy!

  The leader wiped blood from his nose with the back of one hand. He snatched his knife and shouted, “Oh, you’ve done it now, Tuxedo Man!”

  I stole a quick glance toward the window in Kalua’s office. I had to end this quickly. The commotion might bring the cops down from the third floor. I used a boxer’s move to sidestep the thrust of the leader’s blade. I knocked him on his butt with a left hook then kicked him in the ribs with my polished black dress shoes.

  “You kids need to scram.” Behind me, Laura’s voice sounded calm.

  With my left hand full of the leader’s shirt and my right fist ready to deliver a final blow, I glanced behind me.

  She stood in a stance I taught her on the firing range. She held a pistol I didn’t recognize in one hand and her purse in the other.

  Whitey and the girl helped their leader stand. They held up their paws and backed down the alley.

  “Wait. You have something of mine!” Billy grabbed the girl’s hand and swept her into his arms. He leaned her head back slightly. Her eyes widened as he planted a lingering kiss on her mouth. When the kiss ended, he winked at me and began to chew his reclaimed gum.

  The two boys took off down the alley. The girl went after them and waved as she ran. “Aloha, Billy.”

  We were lucky. So far the confrontation hadn’t drawn the attention of the cops. I put off asking Laura about the gun as we hurried to the Olds. I suspected we only had seconds before one of the cops glanced through the office window.