Death of the Big Kahuna

by Catherine Bruns

  "All right, Mrs. Akamu," I replied. "I'm sorry about your husband."

  "Sure you are," Alana snapped as she stomped away from us and got into a black Porsche that was parked on the side of the building.

  "So you really think she's okay with me working here, huh?" My voice was tinged with obvious sarcasm.

  Keanu's eyes twinkled. "Try to keep in mind everything she's going through."

  Detective Ray appeared in the doorway and crooked his finger toward me, and I rose.

  Keanu walked over with me and addressed him. "Is it okay if I run these back upstairs? I'll be in and out within thirty seconds. Scout's honor."

  Detective Ray nodded. "I was an Eagle Scout myself, so how can I argue with that? Plus, you've already given your statement."

  We waited until Keanu had returned outside, and then the detective nodded at me. "Miss Jorgenson—"

  "Carrie," I interrupted. "Please call me Carrie."

  "Very well." Detective Ray walked behind the front counter and motioned for me to follow him. He pointed down at the floor where Hale's body had lain. "Did you happen to notice anything in Hale's pockets last night?"

  Another weird question. "I didn't get close enough to look. Plus, there were other things that grabbed my attention, like the blood and the—"

  Detective Ray produced a plastic bag from his pocket and held it up for me to see. There was a slim, silver bracelet inside. "Is this yours?"

  I studied the bracelet. It did look vaguely familiar, and then I remembered why. "I'm pretty sure Vivian was wearing it yesterday."

  I'd done it again. This was no way to make friends with your fellow coworkers. Meet Carrie Jorgenson, the world's biggest stool pigeon.

  Detective Ray observed me carefully. "Alana thought the bracelet was yours. I wondered if it might have fallen off your wrist when you bent over him."

  I shook my head. "I told you—it's not mine. When I found Hale, I tripped and fell down in the blood and then ran out of there. I didn't bend directly over him. You found it in his shirt pocket?"

  "Yes," the detective replied. "Upper left lapel one."

  I tried to remember what Hale had been wearing yesterday. Black pants and a short-sleeved denim shirt that had actually looked good on him, until it had become covered in blood… "I probably didn't notice the bracelet because all I could see was the knife—and the blood, of course."

  Detective Ray blinked at me. "What knife?"

  How had this guy ever made detective? "The knife that was sticking out of his chest when I found him, of course." Duh.

  Detective Ray shot me a disbelieving look. "We didn't find a knife, Carrie."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  For several seconds, Detective Ray and I continued to stare at each other in silence. Finally, I forced my jaw to move. "There was a knife sticking out of Hale's chest. The page from the order pad was pinned to his shirt with it." Had I been hallucinating? No. "You must have seen it."

  Detective Ray wrote something down on his pad. "We found the page to the order pad. It was sitting on top of Hale's chest. There was blood on it and a tear in the middle that a knife could have gone through. But we did not find a knife. Please describe it for me."

  The blood thundered in my ears until I thought I'd pass out. I must have looked pretty bad because Detective Ray led me by the elbow to the table we'd previously been sitting at.

  "You're as pale as a ghost, Miss Jorgenson. Sit here, and I'll get you a glass of water."

  I had definitely seen a knife, but for the life of me, couldn't remember what it had looked like. I continued to rack my brain to no avail. I must have managed to block out certain details of the murder scene.

  Detective Ray handed the glass to me, and I brought it to my lips. He waited until I'd returned it to the table. "Better?"

  No. "Yes, sir."

  "Can you give me a description of the knife? Was it one that you used here at the café?"

  I shut my eyes for a few seconds but continued to draw a blank. "I can't seem to remember what it looked like. But there was definitely a knife."

  He made more notes and grunted. "We knew Mr. Akamu had been stabbed. The killer may still have the knife in their possession, but it might be in the café as well. They could have easily washed and replaced it."

  What he really meant, but was too polite to say, is that an employee killed Hale, washed the knife, and then maybe chopped up some pineapple with it. Someone like—

  "I'll have to get some of my men over here to make another pass through the place." Detective Ray observed me closely. "Thanks, Miss—er, Carrie. If I need any further information, I'll call you."

  My insides quaked with fear. What if the knife did show up at the restaurant? Would one of us be arrested? "Um—"

  Detective Ray waved me off. "That's all. Have a good day."

  It was obvious he wasn't going to discuss any further aspects of the case with me. Having no choice, I rose to my feet and exited through the patio. Again, I tried to remember specific features of the weapon, but the only knife I could mentally picture was the one Poncho had used to slice pineapple earlier that day…a pearl-handled butcher knife. Had that been the one I'd seen?

  "Hey." Keanu was waving to me from the table. "What's wrong?"

  I sat down in the chair opposite him. "Nothing. I'm fine."

  He gave me a sharp look. "You're not fine. Go ahead—spill it."

  I glanced toward the door of the café, as if afraid Detective Ray might start yelling and running toward us. "He's going to have a cow if he sees us talking."

  Keanu shrugged. "We work together. What, we're not supposed to speak to each other ever again? Come on. You look like you're about to burst."

  I was impressed that he could read me so well, but still hesitated.

  Keanu's voice was gentle. "Carrie, you can trust me. I won't repeat what you say. Honest."

  Trust had always been a difficult issue for me. However, when I looked into those hypnotizing blue eyes that were as cool and calm as the ocean, I believed him. In one day he'd saved my job and also held my head while I'd gotten sick. I found myself wondering if Brad would have done the same thing. A few months ago my answer would have been a resounding yes. Now I wasn't so sure.

  Then again, Keanu had a reason for wanting Hale dead too. Oh, for goodness' sake. He was right. I had to have someone to confide in, so I leaned in close. "Last night, after I got sick, you went back inside the café and found Hale. Then you called 9-1-1."

  He nodded. "What about it?"

  "Do you remember the knife that was sticking out of his chest? What it looked like, I mean?"

  Keanu stared at me, confused. "There was no knife. Just the check from the order pad lying on his chest with pig written on it. Did you see a knife?"

  My mouth was dry. "Yes, it was holding the page pinned to his chest."

  "Are you sure?" he asked.

  I blinked at him, annoyed. "Of course I'm sure! Keanu, I think I'd know if I saw a knife or not."

  "Okay, okay." Keanu held up his hands. "Let's think this through for a minute. If there was a knife when you found him, and then no knife when I went inside a couple of minutes later…"

  We both stared at each other, reaching the same conclusion.

  "That means the killer was inside the café when I found Hale." I gave an involuntary shiver. The killer must have been hiding, perhaps in the kitchen or maybe upstairs in Hale's office. What if I had gone upstairs after I'd discovered Hale? I'd probably be dead too. "Why would they take the knife?"

  Keanu pressed his lips together tightly. "Maybe it was incriminating to them. What if they didn't wear gloves? Do you remember what the knife looked like? Was it from the kitchen?"

  "No, I'm drawing a complete blank. All I remember was that the check had said pig, the blood, and that silly piece of pineapple hanging out of his mouth. It's like it was meant to be symbolic." I paused for a moment. "Vivian said that Poncho was already questioned."

  Keanu nodded. "
Like she also said, he wasn't too happy when he left. I've seen everyone today except Anna. She's one of the part-time servers."

  "When is she coming?" I asked.

  "She never showed up for her appointment," Keanu said. "And Detective Ray was not happy."

  I'll bet. "Getting back to the knife for a moment. The person who stabbed Hale grabbed the knife before you went inside. Or maybe they were still hiding in there when you went back in. So why didn't we see them leave?"

  Keanu forced a smile to his lips. "Well, you were sick, and I was a bit distracted by that. They must have used the back entrance where my moped was parked. Too bad there's no security camera out there. It had to have been someone who was familiar enough with the place and had been here before."

  Someone like an employee.

  "Yoo-hoo!"

  We both jumped. A man with silver dyed hair was approaching us, a large plastic bag slung over his shoulder. He was about our age or maybe a few years older. He blew the hair off his forehead and winked at Keanu. "Who's the pretty lady, K?"

  A grin formed at the corners of Keanu's mouth. "Carrie Jorgenson, this is Tad Emerson. He works for Lovely Linens. Tad, Carrie started with us yesterday."

  Tad and I sized each other up. He was tall and slim, with green, catlike eyes that looked like they were afraid to miss anything. He was dressed in a pink Hawaiian shirt, white cargo pants, and flip-flops. He puckered his lips together. "Aren't you a little doll. But don't get any ideas about stealing my man here."

  Keanu rolled his eyes at Tad. "I'm not your man and never will be."

  Tad placed his hands on his hips and made a face. "Oh, you sure do know how to hurt a guy, K." He looked around at the empty tables. "How come there's no one eating outside on such a divine day like this? It makes me want to burst into song." He started to sing the opening strands to "Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin'."

  Keanu and I exchanged glances. So apparently everyone didn't know. "Dead," I whispered.

  Tad cocked his head to one side. "Come again?"

  "Hale's dead," Keanu said. "He was stabbed to death last night."

  Tad looked from me to Keanu and clamped a hand over his mouth. "Is this some kind of a joke?"

  "Afraid not." Keanu sighed.

  I thought maybe Tad would scream in horror or shudder, but instead he smiled. "Whoa. My psychic abilities are incredibly spot-on. I knew someone was going to take the big kahuna out one of these days."

  Keanu gave him an incredulous stare, while I raised my eyebrows in unison.

  "Look, I know he wasn't a nice man, but no one deserves to die like that," I said.

  Tad pouted openly. "Honey, that man was vile. All I ever tried to be was nice to him. A few months back, I had two tickets for Sweet Charity at the Hana Hou Theater, so I invited him to come along. I confess that I'd always admired him, what with his arrogant, confident air, and he wasn't exactly shabby to look at either. But I only asked him as a friend."

  I exchanged glances with Keanu.

  Tad was in his element and didn't notice. The color rose in his cheeks. "Do you know what nasty name he called me?"

  I again stared at Keanu, who gave me a look as if to say you're on your own with this one. "I think I can guess."

  "Word, girlfriend. Word. So, K." His voice took on a high-pitched whine. "I guess you won't be needing fresh linens today?"

  Before Keanu could respond, our attention was distracted by an elderly woman approaching from the boardwalk. She was toting a rolling cart behind her that was filled with white bakery boxes. She had short, brown hair and was tiny in stature and a bit on the plump side. Her face was pleasant as her eyes darted back and forth from me to Keanu. She extended her hand and patted him lightly on the cheek.

  "Six today, honey," she said. "I'm guessing you might not need them though. We heard about Hale." She made a tsk-tsk sound under her breath. "I'm so sorry."

  Tad clucked like a chicken. "I knew it was going to happen." He gave the woman an air kiss and then a quick once-over. "By the way, Ellen darling, you look fab."

  Ellen flushed with pleasure but continued to stare at me with unabashed interest. "Thanks, Tad." She grabbed Keanu's arm. "Come on—give me all the dirt. Who do you think did it?"

  Keanu sighed heavily and then gestured at me.

  "No!" Ellen shrieked. "She doesn't look like a murderer."

  Keanu hid his smile. "I only wanted to introduce you to our newest server. Ellen Bentley, this is Carrie Jorgenson."

  Ellen took my hand between her two tiny, warm ones. "Nice to meet you, dear." Then she nudged Keanu again. "My, she's just your type! Now tell me all about Hale."

  Keanu's face turned crimson, while I tried to look anywhere but at him. "There's nothing to tell. We don't know who did it."

  "Do you think it was a fellow employee?" Ellen asked. "If you want my opinion, I'd go with…"

  Keanu raked an agitated hand through his dark hair. "What kind of pies did you bring?"

  Ellen held up six fingers. "Two chocolate, one strawberry rhubarb, a pumpkin, and two pineapple filled."

  "My favorite!" Tad squealed.

  Keanu craned his head toward the sky, as if asking for God and heaven above to help him out. He sat down at the table and reached for a leather-bound checkbook that was buried in the midst of all the paperwork. In record time he filled out a check and handed it to Ellen. "Here you go. Thanks for bringing them over. I appreciate it. Please thank Liam as well." Then he bent his head over the paperwork again.

  Ellen seemed disappointed that she wasn't going to find out any more details. "If you hear anything—"

  Tad had a compact mirror in front of him and was admiring his reflection. "Yes, we know where you live, darling. As a matter of fact, the entire town of Aloha Lagoon knows where to find you."

  Ellen's gaze came to rest on me again. "Nice meeting you."

  "Likewise." I smiled.

  As she took off down the path with her cart trailing behind her, I sat down opposite Keanu. "Is she a delivery person?"

  Keanu shook his head. "Ellen and her grandson own a bakery in town. It's not open to the public, but they're always great about getting baked goods to us whenever we need them. Poncho's so busy with the main entrees he doesn't have much time to handle dessert as well." He picked up two of the pies. "Perhaps Detective Ray would like to take one home."

  "Isn't he a prince?" Tad asked as Keanu walked into the café. "He's got it bad for you, girlfriend. I can tell."

  My heart skipped a beat. "What are you talking about? I have a boyfriend, and Keanu knows that. His name is Brad."

  "Ooh," Tad squealed. "I love names that rhyme with my own." Then he tapped the side of his head. "Uh-uh. Honey, I know these things. I swear that I was a psychic during a previous life."

  This guy was something else, but even though we'd just met, I already liked him. He had a zest for life that I found so appealing. I needed to surround myself with positive people like him. It was almost like chatting with an old girlfriend from high school.

  Tad studied his reflection in the mirror again then blew himself a kiss. "Taddy, you're gorgeous. You ought to be in pictures."

  "Speaking of pictures," I said, "where is this theater you were talking about? What was it called?"

  He beamed. "You like the theater?"

  "Are you kidding? I love it. My dream is to go to New York and be on Broadway someday."

  "No fooling?" Tad clasped his hands together in awe. "You are so coming with me on Sunday night to the Hana Hou."

  "What does that mean in English?"

  "The Encore Theater. They're holding auditions for Little Women, the musical. Ever heard of the book by Louisa May Alcott?"

  I made a sound low in my throat. Okay, it was more like a shriek or maybe a full-fledged scream. "Oh wow. I loved that book as a kid! Where is the theater located? I live in town but don't have a car."

  Tad's eyes resembled giant emerald jewels. "It's too far of a walk from town, but I'll tell you what.
How about I give you a lift? I'm auditioning too."

  "Seriously? You wouldn't mind?"

  "Anything for a girlfriend." He took a business card and a pen out of his pocket. "Here, love. Write your address down on the back. I'll pick you up at six o'clock sharp."

  "This is so nice of you." My hand shook as I wrote out the information. As a child, I had been known to bury my head in a book on more than one occasion. It was my one escape and solace from real life. I loved classical literature, ranging from books by Louisa May Alcott to Laura Ingalls Wilder to E. B. White. Okay, so maybe it was a bit optimistic to think I'd be cast as Jo March, the lead and tomboyish sister of the four girls, but you had to reach for that brass ring when you had a chance, right?

  "What about you?" I asked. "What are you auditioning for?"

  "Well, I'd love to play Laurie," Tad said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Of course every male who auditions will want that part. At least they know me there. I did manage to snag a bit part in Grease last year, so I think I have a good shot. Do you have a lot of experience?"

  "I was in a few plays in school," I admitted, "but I don't have any real musical experience. I'm going to sing karaoke at the café tomorrow night, if they'll let me."

  He made a face. "Oh, honey, they'll let anyone sing. I've been to the Loco Moco on karaoke nights. Your boss—well, former boss, that is—would go upstairs to his man cave and put his earplugs in. The only reason the big kahuna went along with it is because the more that people sing, the thirstier they get, and that means more kala—er, money—for him. He didn't care who made a spectacle out of themselves. You could have Madonna wriggling around up there, and it would have made no difference to him."

  Keanu returned from the café empty handed, and it seemed a safe assumption that Detective Ray liked pie.

  He held two boxes out to me. "We can't keep these until tomorrow. Poncho hates us to serve day-old anything. Do you want to take a couple home with you, Carrie?"

  "Sure. Thanks." I hoped I didn't sound too eager, but there wasn't much to eat back at the apartment, besides some peanut butter and a few canned goods. Plus I wanted to hold on to as much money as possible. Alana could still decide to fire me at any moment.