"No, she has to go see the undertaker tomorrow. But she wants the place to be in top shape for Tuesday's opening. Between you and me, I think she's trying to prove something to everyone—that nothing has changed and she can handle the place as well as Hale did. I've got some receipts to go through and checks to write to vendors, so I'll be there while you're downstairs working."
The silence that stretched between us seemed to go on for an eternity, even though it couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds. "Okay. What time?"
"How about one o'clock? I know I always need a day to sleep in."
"That would be nice, but to tell the truth the time of day probably won't matter. I just had coffee, so I probably won't be able to sleep now." I sighed. "I'm not sure why I do these things."
Keanu's voice was low and sexy on the other end of the line. "You can't be trusted around coffee—I already know that."
I laughed, remembering the incident from the other day. "Oh, real nice."
He chuckled. "Sorry, couldn't help myself. Okay, don't drink any more caffeine tonight. See you tomorrow."
As I disconnected, a slight tap sounded on the front door. It was a little late for visitors. I opened the door a crack to find a voluptuous, bleached blonde standing there in a lime green, sparkly tank top that read Princess across her well-endowed chest. She had paired it with tiny jean shorts so tight they threatened to cut off her circulation. She seemed surprised to see me.
"Oh." She giggled. "I'm sorry—I must have the wrong apartment. I was looking for Braddy."
My girlfriend radar instantly zoomed into the fact that this was probably not a coworker. "Yes, Brad lives here. Can I help you?"
She smiled as recognition dawned. "That's right. I'm so ditzy sometimes. I forgot that Brad told me he was living with his sister."
I sucked in some air. "Excuse me?"
She let out an obnoxious giggle again and held a man's black wallet in front of her. "I'm Heidi. He left this at my apartment last night."
What an appropriate name. Heidi Ho, Heidi the Ho—take your pick. The options were endless. I stared at her, speechless.
Heidi seemed oblivious to my confusion. "I didn't notice it until late this afternoon when I went to make the bed up." The long eyelashes I was positive were fake fluttered wildly. "We had quite a bit to drink last night."
The room started to spin at a violent rate. I counted to ten, then reached out and snatched the wallet from her outstretched hand.
She gave me a sly little smile. "Will you make sure that Braddy gets it?"
I gripped the edge of the door so tightly that my knuckles started to turn white. I forced myself to meet Heidi Ho's gaze, and it took every effort of my being to keep from lunging for her throat. "Oh, he's going to get it all right."
With that, I slammed the door and locked it, almost catching her outstretched hand in the process. Enraged, I threw the wallet across the room, where it hit the wall, and the contents burst out all over the floor. I ran into the bedroom and started shoving clothes into my suitcase. Tears of humiliation streamed down my face and blinded me as I emptied out the two dresser drawers in which I kept some T-shirts and underwear.
I had been played for a fool. How could I have been so stupid? Brad never wanted me here. He tried to discourage me from coming, but I had been focused on making an escape—not realizing that Brad might be looking for one from me as well.
I couldn't blame Heidi. She probably had no idea I existed. The signs had been there for a while, even before Brad had left for Hawaii, but I'd chosen to ignore them. That was no longer an option for me.
The key rattled in the lock, and I groaned inwardly. I'd been hoping to escape before Brad returned. I hated confrontations of any sort, but the time had come.
"Yo, babe, you home?"
"Yes," I managed to rasp between my clenched teeth. I zipped the suitcase shut and went into the bathroom to get my personal items.
Brad was behind me now. He placed his hands on my waist, and without thinking, I turned around and punched him right in the nose. I had never hit anyone before in my entire life. It was a reflex action, I told myself.
"Hey!" He put a hand to his face. "What'd you do that for?"
I ignored him as I scooped up my toiletries and shoved them into my cosmetic case. Then I pushed past him to grab my Nike duffel bag in the closet. I removed the key to the apartment from my key ring and flung it at him. "Your girlfriend Heidi was just here to return your wallet. Maybe she'd like to be your new roomie, because we're finished."
Brad was holding a piece of tissue to his blood-soaked nose but reached out to run his hand up and down my bare arm. "Aw, babe. Don't be like that." He pressed his lips against my ear and ran a hand up inside my shirt.
My body shook with disgust and rage as I jerked away from him. "When exactly did you become so self-absorbed?"
He shrugged. "So I spent a night there. We were drunk, and it just happened. Nothing personal, sweetheart."
"I thought I meant something to you." My voice quivered. The last thing I wanted to do was cry in front of him.
"You do," he protested, grabbing my arm. "Let me show you."
Furious, I shook him off. "I can't believe I was such an idiot." I grabbed my purse from the kitchen counter and glanced around to see if I'd forgotten anything else. No, all my worldly possessions were in my hands. I opened the door to the apartment and then slammed it so hard behind me that the wood of the frame rattled. I ran down the steps of the porch and started walking at a rapid and furious pace.
I had no idea where I was going. My arms were full of luggage, I had little money, and now I had no home. Perhaps it wouldn't have been a bad idea to hold off until the morning. How would I ever find any accommodations this late at night? Maybe I could get a room at the resort. If I could even afford one, that is.
I walked on for the next ten minutes, my gait slowing while the ache in my arms from the luggage grew. My duffel bag knocked against my side, and my eyes started to fill. I considered my options, which were slim. I could call Vivian. No, wait—Lola was already staying with her. Maybe Keanu would know a place where—no. I refused to call him. I didn't want him to see me as some pathetic, needy co-worker. I knew he would have helped, but my pride was standing in the way.
The lighted tiki torches along the path welcomed me as the Aloha Lagoon resort came into view. As I stared at the lights, one clicked on in my brain. The key I'd found yesterday…could it possibly be to the café's door?
Of course, the place was closed tomorrow, and Keanu had mentioned that Alana was busy with more important matters, which meant she probably wouldn't be coming by. So who would know if I spent the night there? What harm would it do? I wasn't going to take anything. I just needed a place to crash. Hopefully I'd be able to find a more permanent situation in the morning.
I went around to the rear of the Aloha Lagoon resort, where I hoped there might not be any security cameras, and continued until I reached the door of the café's patio. I didn't want to go into the main resort building and enter the place from the lobby because someone would definitely see me then. All I needed was to have Detective Ray seek me out tomorrow with a warrant for breaking and entering.
As I approached the patio door, uneasiness surged through me. What if the killer returned? I reassured myself that Hale's death had been planned methodically and that there was no reason for someone to want me dead—or was there?
I looked around nervously at the large banyan trees rustling in the breezy, warm night. Laughter could be heard coming from the nearby water, and I spotted a couple embracing in the distance. They were probably guests at the resort, out for a romantic beach stroll. It was a beautiful night to walk hand-in-hand with the one you loved.
It was either curl up at one of the tables for the night or venture inside. I had seen Keanu set the alarm last night when we left and was certain the three-digit code was 007. Maybe Hale had been a James Bond fan.
I inserted the key
into the patio door, praying, and as if by magic, it turned easily. The alarm panel started flashing, and my heart rate increased as I rushed over to punch in the code. Thankfully, it was the correct one. I switched on the light, hoping no one in the resort would see and become suspicious, but I needed to make sure that there was no one else inside.
After about five minutes, when I had scanned every inch of the place and decided that the boogeyman and Hale's killer had taken up residence elsewhere, I shut the light off and climbed the stairs to Hale's office. I set my suitcase and cosmetic bag next to the desk and kicked off my sandals. I spotted a small battery-operated lantern sitting on the bookcase in the corner and brought it over to the couch with me. I didn't think anyone would be able to see this from outside, and I hated sleeping in the total darkness.
That was, if I would be able to sleep at all.
The silence was deafening as I glanced around the room. I was thankful that the office was air conditioned because the humidity outside was pressing and had managed to drench me during my walk, along with the added weight of my luggage. Hopefully there was someplace I might be able to snag an inconspicuous shower in the morning—and not in the ocean.
As I lay on the couch, my nosy nature began to work overtime. I walked over to the desk, toting the lantern with me. Sitting down in Hale's chair, I reached for the main drawer. Locked. Then I tried the two drawers on the left hand side. Both opened easily. The reasonable side of my brain told me I had no right to go through the drawers. The naughty side of my brain told the reasonable side to shut the heck up.
At first there was nothing to hold my immediate interest. Some bills from the bakery, produce receipts, a checkbook that I glanced through. I noticed on the register that a check had been written to Carmen in the amount of five thousand dollars and thought that was strange. A payroll service created our checks—their name had been on my copy yesterday. Plus that was way more than any of us would make in a regular week. So what was that all about?
I reached back far into the drawer, and my fingers connected with a folder full of laminated newspaper clippings. There was one of a young Hale cutting the ribbon on the Loco Moco Café, smiling broadly at a couple standing nearby. I read the tagline underneath and discovered they were his parents and this had been when they bought the café. There was another photo of Hale graduating from business school with honors. Several articles also contained five-star reviews of the Loco Moco from food critics.
At the bottom of the pile, I spotted a newspaper article that featured a picture of a twisted piece of black metal next to a guardrail, and a wave of dread shot through me. The article was dated March 7, 1997. Before I even read the headline, I had a premonition what this was—the car accident Hale's parents had lost their lives in. My heart began to thump loudly against the wall of my chest as I read on:
Three locals were killed in a horrific car accident last evening along Route 22 in Oahu. Maya and Sampson Akamu were passengers in a 1997 BMW driven by their son Hale and died instantly when the car suddenly jumped the middle line and struck a 1990 Dodge Omni going in the opposite direction. The driver of the other vehicle, Elizabeth Peyton, was taken to a nearby hospital where she later succumbed to her injuries. Hale suffered a broken leg and severe contusions but is expected to survive.
I placed the clipping back inside the folder with trembling hands and thought back to Alana's words the other day. This in no way excused Hale's infidelity and the cruel manner in which he dealt with people, but it had to have affected him on many different levels. How could you possibly live with yourself when you had caused an accident that resulted in the death of your parents, plus another human being?
I opened the bottom desk drawer, and my pulse quickened when I noticed that there were manila files labeled with each employee's name, including me. Guiltily, I glanced around, then chided myself. No one was here, and there weren't any security cameras inside. If for some reason I was mistaken, I'd be searching for employment again tomorrow.
My folder was first, and I wondered if Hale had had any time to compile dirt on me from my references or if he'd scribbled any nasty notes. Negative on both accounts. All the folder included were copies of my W-2 and I-9 forms and my pathetic résumé. I rifled through the other employee files, feeling lower than dirt. What was I expecting to find? A written confession from one of my coworkers that they had killed Hale?
I lifted Keanu's file out with trembling hands and again cursed the bad side of my brain. I learned that he was twenty-six, two years older than me, and the address given for him belonged to a house in Poipu, a nearby town in Kauai. Tad had happened to mention the place earlier when he was talking about the best—and most expensive—areas to live in Kauai. It sounded like more than anyone who worked at Loco Moco Café—with the exception of the Akamus—could afford. So what was Keanu doing there, then?
The other files held nothing of interest. There were no clues in Carmen's file about receiving extra money. I wondered if Alana's assumption was correct and Carmen had been sleeping with Hale. I lifted out the last file, which belonged to Poncho. Like me, he lived in town. Well, up until last night I had anyway. Now I was too poor to even own an address.
There was another page in the file, which was an agreement of sorts. I examined it closely.
I, Poncho Suarez, do hereby agree to employment with Loco Moco Café as their head chef for a period of time not to end before August 1, 2020.
It was signed by him and Hale in July of the previous year and notarized by a Stephen Tamatoa.
So Poncho had worked at the café for over a year, and for some ridiculous reason had committed himself to another three years of torture working for the boss from hell. This was why he had not sought out another employer and had asked Hale for more money instead. The question was, why had he agreed to such a long-term status at the Loco Moco? Did Hale have something on him?
I put the file back in its proper location and closed the drawer, my body racked with shame over what I had done. I went over to my suitcase and dug out a sweater, draping it over me as I lay down on the couch. The temperature in the room was comfortable, but like Linus from Charlie Brown, I needed some sort of security blanket. I turned the light down as low as it would go without the room being in total darkness.
I lay there wide awake for a long time, thinking about my findings. It had become painfully obvious that everyone associated with Loco Moco Café had something to hide. Vivian had been vague when I'd asked her about her personal life and how she had come to work here. Tad had confided that he disliked Hale for humiliating him. Even Keanu had confessed to a reason for wanting Hale dead when he drove me home after the murder.
As much as I hated to consider the idea, it was very plausible that one of my coworkers could be Hale's killer. Maybe I should think about returning to the mainland. But how would I get there? I didn't have enough money for a plane ticket. Perhaps in a few weeks I could gather enough funds together. If I left, I might look even more suspicious to Detective Ray. Yes, for the time being I was stuck here.
I was determined to stay awake until I had my life and this crime all sorted out. However, weariness finally won the battle, and I closed my eyes.
When I awoke, sunlight was slanting through the upstairs window. It took a minute for recognition to set in and for me to remember where I was and how I'd gotten here. The café was silent, although I could hear the faint sounds of laughter coming from outside. There were probably some kids playing down by the water.
I glanced at my watch. Both hands were pointed at the twelve. I looked closer and discovered the hands weren't moving at all. Shoot. The battery must have died during the night. I reached out my arm and knocked my phone to the wooden floor with a loud thud. I'd forgotten that I had left it next to me last night—probably afraid I might have to call 9-1-1 in a hurry if Hale's killer showed up.
I rolled off the couch to grab my cell and saw from the screen that it was 9:30. I had a couple of hours to get ready
before I needed to meet Keanu. Maybe I could go over to the resort and grab a shower first. For now, I decided that a little more sleep was in order. Exhausted, I lay back down and closed my eyes, pulling the sweater over my head.
I had started to doze off but then detected the sound of heavy breathing coming from nearby and was pretty certain it wasn't my own.
There was someone upstairs with me.
The blood pounded in my ears, and my heart knocked against the wall of my chest so violently I was afraid I might pass out from fear alone. With trepidation, I slowly lowered the sweater from my face and forced my eyes open.
Poncho was leaning over the couch, his face full of both shock and disbelief as he looked down at me. I in turn stared back mutely, as it wasn't Poncho's expression that held my attention.
In his outstretched hand, he held a large, sharp butcher knife that was pointed…directly at me.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Words lodged tightly in my throat, unable to escape, and made it difficult for me to breath. I put my hands in front of my face and whimpered like a frightened five-year-old.
"No. Please don't."
Poncho stared at me in confusion, and then his eyes darted to the knife he was holding. Sheepishly, he lowered it to his side. "My apologies. I did not mean to frighten you, ho'aloha. I heard a noise and came upstairs to investigate. I was downstairs chopping vegetables. It saves on prep time for tomorrow, and I like the quiet when no one else is around. At least, I thought no one else was around."
I sat up and rubbed my eyes, waiting for my heart rate to return to normal. "You gave me quite a scare." I eyed the knife, and then like an electric shock, my brain gave a nervous jolt. The knife that had killed Hale…I remembered now. It had a white pearl handle. This wasn't the same one.
Poncho frowned. "What are you doing here, Miss Carrie?"
I'd almost forgotten that I'd broken into the place. "I—uh." Okay, how to get out of this one? I stared into his dark brown eyes, but there was no anger directed toward me. Instead, I saw only kindness and compassion. Might as well come clean.
Death of the Big Kahuna Page 11
