“Are you arresting me?” Her heart was racing so fast she was afraid she’d faint.
“No.”
“Then why can’t I answer you here?”
“I’d prefer the station.” He looked at the women across the room. Sophie did too. They were all listening.
“Fine.” She shrugged. No doubt he’d dug around, found her arrest record. She could make this hard or she could make it easy. She picked up her purse and started around the bar.
Without warning, the Maidens all jumped up and rushed to her side. Chairs left in their wakes careened off Little Estelle’s Gad-About as she pushed the pedal to the metal and rolled across the room at high speed. Sophie had expected the women to shy away as the detective led her across the room. Instead, they surrounded her like a phalanx of exotic birds.
“Roland, come on. You can’t arrest Sophie,” Flora protested.
“What’s she done?” Lillian demanded.
“We need her, Roland.” Kiki pleaded. “This is a very important practice.”
Sophie watched as the dark eyed detective silenced them all with a look.
“I’m not arresting her. I’m just taking her into town for further questioning.”
“Take us all then,” Big Estelle piped up. She was used to bossing her mother around.
“Yeah. Take us all!” Flora yelled.
They began to chant. “Take us all! Take us all!”
Kiki leaned close and whispered to Sophie, “Choose to remain silent.” Then she turned to the pink haired woman beside her and ordered, “Hurry, Lillian, go get Em.”
The Iowa transplant was the lowest Maiden in the pecking order, so Lil shoved her glasses up the bridge of her nose and sprinted out the door.
As the detective walked on one side of Sophie, Kiki was on the other. She wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “No one goes to jail for murder on Kauai,” she whispered. “At least not for long.”
“I didn’t murder anyone,” Sophie protested.
They reached the patrol car and Detective Sharpe opened the back door. A bead of sweat slipped down Sophie’s temple. She wiped it away.
Trish Oakely’s freckles stood out in the bright sunlight outside the Goddess. Roland placed his hand atop Sophie’s head as she bent down to lower herself into the back seat. Trish had grabbed her camera on the way out. Now she snapped off a couple of quick photos.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get you out on bail,” Trish promised.
“Bail?” Sophie’s eyes smarted. “I’m only going in for questioning.”
She didn’t have two dimes to rub together, let alone bail. Her car was repaired with duct tape and not worth squat. A public defender was the best she could do if she had to lawyer up.
“No worries. We’ll get you out. You’re our hula sistah now.” Flora opened her water bottle and took a long swig. She palmed the top of the bottle and offered it to Sophie. Sophie shook her head no. Last thing she needed was gin on her breath.
Trish stepped aside and Em suddenly appeared in the open car door. Sophie’s cheeks flamed as she stared up at the woman who had taken a chance on hiring her and even found her a place to live.
“I didn’t do anything.” Sophie whispered. There was no reason in hell that Em Johnson or anyone else should believe her. She half expected Em to fire her on the spot.
“We’ll be right behind you.” Em reached in to the car and gave her shoulder a squeeze.
“Listen, Em…” Sophie wanted to tell her about Oahu, about her past, but it was too late. Roland had already started the engine. Em closed the door.
As the KPD cruiser pulled out of the parking lot, Sophie let the tears come. She was as scared as she was pissed, but most of all, she was in shock that the Maidens were lending their support.
No one had ever been there for her. Not even during small-kid time when she was a keiki. No one had stood up for Sophie Chin. Not ever.
8
Two Sides to Every Story
Em sat alone in the waiting area at KPD’s booking station. The Maidens had insisted on being there, but their bickering was drawing attention so she sent them off to the café at the Tip Top Motel for ox tail soup and told them to stay put until she called.
Forty-five minutes later, Roland Sharpe walked into the waiting area without Sophie. Em’s heart jumped into her throat. As he headed toward her, she got to her feet and met him halfway across the lobby.
He glanced around the room. “Where is the entourage?”
“The Tip Top,” she said
He nodded toward a couple of chairs off by themselves. “Let’s sit down a minute.”
Bad news, Em thought. He’s separating me from the herd. She followed in his wake. He waited until she was settled, then sat beside her.
“Are you arresting her?” She couldn’t believe she was asking that about Sophie.
“No.”
Em’s relief was short lived.
Roland added, “Did you know she has a record?”
Em took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She’d hired Sophie without a single recommendation. Hired her on a gut feeling that Sophie was a nice gal who needed a break. Now she wondered if maybe her judgment was in a shambles after Phillip. She hoped she wasn’t crazy to still have faith in people.
She thought about telling Roland that yes, she knew and that she wasn’t dumb enough to hire someone without references, but she was too shook up to pull it off.
“No, I didn’t know. How…what was she arrested for?”
“Accessory to robbery. Possession of narcotics.” He glanced down at her hands. She followed his gaze and hadn’t realized she was holding her fingers in a clench in her lap. She let go and smoothed her palms down her shorts.
“If she was guilty of all that, why isn’t she locked up?”
“She was underage and was an accessory—she was driving a get-away car. The possession charge was eventually dropped.”
“So if the charges were dropped…”
“She’s still guilty of making poor choices.”
“How old was she then?”
“The holdup took place when she was eighteen.” He let a beat go by before he added, “If I were you, I’d think about firing Ms. Chin. “
“Are you arresting her for Harold’s murder?”
“I’ve nothing to hold her on. No evidence. No witnesses.”
“It could have been anyone.”
“She got into it with him that day.”
Em shook her head. “She couldn’t have killed him.”
Em knew there were times she herself had fantasized various ways of getting rid of her ex. Separating him from his dick and letting him bleed to death for instance, but she would have never actually done it.
Roland sat back and propped his left foot on his right knee. He jiggled his foot and stared at Em for a few seconds, then shook his head as if giving up on her.
“I wish you’d take my advice.”
“I’m here to drive Sophie home. Is she free to leave yet?”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He stood up.
“No need. You’ll see.” Em rose, too, clutching her purse. She prayed she was right.
“I’ll send her out,” he said.
Em watched Roland Sharpe walk away. It was one thing to defend Sophie to the detective. It was another knowing Sophie hadn’t been up front about her record. Then again, Em had only herself to blame. She hadn’t asked for references. She hadn’t asked much of anything.
Five minutes later, Sophie walked through the door and into the waiting area. She saw Em and hesitated a beat before she continued across the room.
When she reached Em, Sophie didn’t shy away from meeting her eyes. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Didn’t Roland tell you I was waiting?”
“No. He just said I could leave.” She lowered her voice. “I’m so sorry, Em.”
“I trusted you, Sophie. You should have told me about your past.”
/> “Would you have hired me?”
“You never gave me the chance to decide for myself.”
“You’re right. I should have been up front about my arrest record. I could have told you earlier, before Sharpe picked me up, but then it was too late.” Her gaze never faltered.
Em looked around the lobby. “Let’s head out to the car.”
The minute they stepped outside the air conditioned building, sultry heat enfolded them. Em stopped walking. She hitched her purse under her arm and turned to Sophie.
“Roland told me you were charged with some very serious offenses—
“But I never even served time.”
“What happened? I want all of it.”
Sophie took a deep breath. “I was seventeen when I started dating the boyfriend from hell. It was his big idea to rob the ABC Store near Lewers Street. He said no big deal if I drove the car. Said I wouldn’t do time because I was underage and he was right, I didn’t go to jail, but it went on my record. Aiding and abetting. I got off on probation because it was a first offense.”
“But not your last.”
“A year later, he asked me to pick up a duffle bag he forgot at the gym. The cops had been watching the place, suspecting drug deals were going down. I had no idea. I walked out carrying a duffle full of dirty gym clothes and enough pakalolo to be charged with transporting.”
“You got off again.”
“I had no idea I was carrying pot. The only thing I was guilty of was being stupid.”
“Your boyfriend was arrested.”
“No, he wasn’t, but one of the other guys was. He owed Jimmy a favor so he testified that I had no knowledge of what was in the bag. I got off. Afterward, I tried to break things off with Jimmy.”
“But…” Em could guess what was coming.
“I filed a restraining order. He’d moved on already. New girlfriend. A sixteen year old. Unfortunately, there are plenty of guys just like him in Honolulu. Once you get caught up in that kind of crowd, it’s hard to get out. When I finally got enough money together to ship my car, I moved over here to start over.”
Em knew all about loving the wrong man and being deceived. She knew what it was to barely have a dime to her name, too. Eight years into her marriage an old girlfriend of Em’s called from the airport in Costa Rica to report that Phillip was there with another woman. Em wouldn’t have believed a word except for the fact that Phillip was in Costa Rica—supposedly on a fishing trip with his buddies.
Em’s friend backed up the revelation by emailing cell phone photos. Sure enough, Phillip was all over another woman, touching her, kissing her in public. Once Em began to unravel the truth, she found out her big shot Newport Beach public accountant had been a player for years. She hired the best divorce lawyer money could buy and thanks to her friend’s photos and Phillip’s own admission of guilt—he tried to play the sex addiction card—she definitely had the upper hand. But his infidelity wasn’t the only shock. She discovered their bank accounts were close to empty and the house was mortgaged for three times what it was worth.
What hurt the most was that many of their so called friends had known about Phillip and his affairs all along, but nobody had bothered to tell her. No longer able to afford the Newport Beach social scene or lifestyle, Em cut herself off. Alone and adrift, she was floundering when Kiki’s letter and the airline ticket from the Maidens arrived.
She had only met her uncle once before and that was back when she and Phillip had honeymooned on Kauai. Phillip thought Louie was certifiable even then. Em preferred to think of her uncle as eccentric. Louie thought of himself as a castaway and kept the Tiki Goddess Bar open as a shrine to his late wife. But once Em had really gotten to know Louie, she found him to be an endearing, hardworking, sincere man. Which is what she had believed about Sophie—at least the Sophie she thought she knew.
She hated to think she was a complete idiot when it came to judging people.
“I swear to God I didn’t kill Harold.” Sophie’s voice brought Em back.
“I know that,” Em said. But do I really? She wondered.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you fired me.”
Em stared at Sophie for a moment, hoping she’d made the right decision. She needed to trust her own judgment as well as Sophie.
She smiled. “I’m not firing you. I need a bartender.” She shook her head and sighed. “Besides, the Maidens would riot.”
9
A Late Night Development
“Someday, huh, kid?”
Em glanced over at Uncle Louie, wondering if he’d forgotten her name.
“You can say that again.” Somehow it was already 10:30 p.m. She and the Maidens had driven Sophie back to the North Shore late that afternoon. Em could tell the girl was still shaken, but she had insisted on working her shift at the bar that evening.
“Glad you told Sophie to close up early. She should be over here within the hour with the cash box.” Louie glanced out toward the dark lanai. Just beyond, waves crashed against the beach with rhythmic enthusiasm. Rain ran off the roof in beaded rivulets.
Em shrugged. “I figured why not close early? The place was all but deserted except for Buzzy and he can drink at home.” She silently assured herself the cash box would soon arrive, safely tucked under Sophie’s arm.
Louie attributed the slow turn out to all the commotion after the murder last night. Not only was it raining steadily now, but too much unexpected excitement tended to wear everyone out.
The door of David Letterman’s cage rattled as Louie reached in to pour his latest version of Great Balls of Fire into the macaw’s drinking cup. So far, so bad.
“What number try is this?” Em asked.
“This is only my fourth.” Louie smiled at her from across the room.
Em watched David Letterman dip his deadly beak into his cup. He drank, swallowed, and then let out an ear piercing scream and cries of “Yuck! Yuck! Patooie!”
The bird nervously began pacing back and forth across his perch, shaking his head and muttering, “Yuck! Yuck! Patooie!” over and over. He punctuated his outrage with exaggerated spitting sounds.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” Louie apologized.
“I told you he hates ginger,” Em said.
Louie refused to listen. “Too much Tabasco, maybe.” He downed what was left in the shaker and started over. At this rate Louie would end up on the floor next to the cage.
“Maybe you should just make some adjustments to the mix in the shaker instead of polishing off all the rejects.”
“Gotta start fresh.” The word came out freesh.
Just then Trish Oakely appeared on the back lanai with a hoodie sweatshirt tossed over her head and clutching a gallon sized Ziplock bag full of photos. Her camera dangled beneath the sweatshirt.
“I saw your light on. Sophie said she was closing up and that I should come on over.”
“Come in,” Em called out. Louie greeted Trish with a hug and an aloha. He offered her a drink from the small tiki bar set up in the corner of the room.
Trish declined and made her way to the coffee table, a low bamboo and glass affair that had been around since the 40s. The red head shrugged off her hoodie and draped it over a bar stool and then handed the Ziplock to Em.
“Photos from the luau,” Trish said.
Em opened the bag and started shuffling through the photos. There were shots taken of tourists standing around the imu listening to Kimo’s spiel about how local hunters had delivered the pig cleaned and already salted and wrapped in banana and ti leaves. Then it was buried and roasted on hot coals for hours. There were posed photos of couples and family groupings in front of the luau hut or beside the huge carved tiki Louie had shipped from Tahiti back in the ‘60’s. Some of the guests were posed front of the Tiki Goddess sign.
None of them looked like they had Harold’s blood on their hands.
“How in the world would we know if any one of these people killed Harold?” Em wondered.
<
br /> “I thought about that,” Trish said. “I figure there might have been someone outside when the pig was uncovered, someone loitering out there who didn’t attend the luau.” She took the pile of photos from Em and shuffled them until she found one that she had taken inside the Goddess. “I went from table to table taking photos and placing orders for copies. This afternoon I matched the outdoor shots with the indoor shots and there are only two people who were outside at the time the pig was dug up who weren’t around later for the luau. Two people who went missing.”
Em sat up straighter and patted the cushion beside her. “Show me.”
Trish sat down, held out a photo and pointed to a couple wearing hiking boots and back packs. “These two.”
“Great. Serial killer hikers?”
“I met them. They seemed like a real nice couple. He is a professor of some kind from back east. They’re hiking out to camp in the Kalalau Valley for a week. Longer if they can make their provisions last, which should be easy since they only eat raw.”
“Raw what?”
“Raw everything. It’s like being a vegan or something. Only raw fruits and veggies, eggs, even raw meat. That’s why they didn’t stay for the luau. The sight of the whole pig coming out of the imu about did them in. Can’t imagine what they’d have done if they saw poor Harold.”
“Enough said.” Em held up her hand.
“They said they’d pick up the photos when they came back through town,” Trish added. “We need to find them.”
“Why would they want to kill Harold?”
“Obviously they aren’t into cooking anything, let alone Harold. I don’t think they wanted to kill Harold any more than you do, but what if they were hanging around out there after we all came in? Maybe they saw something that might be a clue.”
“Maybe,” Em agreed.
“So someone needs to go talk to them.”
“Hike into Kalalau?”
Mai Tai One On Page 5
