By discussing this aspect of the memorial, I could push aside the issue of my true location and focus. In order to limit the direction of our discussion, it was best for me to control when and how we spoke. Otherwise, voices or background noise might give away the fact that I was not in my condo.
“Hi, Natalie. You timed your call perfectly. I was video conferencing with Bri.”
“How is she doing Nathan?” I responded.
“She’s regretting taking summer classes and is so upset that she can barely keep her mind on her end-of-term assignments. She’s decided to cancel an additional class she was going to take this summer.”
“I think it’s good she’s had school to occupy her mind—especially since we’re not sure when the memorial will be. I...I have a feeling we’ll be getting a preliminary call from the ME’s office soon.”
I did not want to mention that Keoni had tipped me off about the forthcoming call regarding the autopsy. Any further conversation about the topic might have aroused his curiosity about why I was in close touch with Keoni, since he is a retired homicide detective.
Like most of our nightly chats, the pauses between our sentences were pregnant, with undeclared and to-be-continued issues. I got through the call with my emotions intact, but I had barely refrained from revealing what I was doing in Makiki. That is the beauty of a telephone; unless you are speaking with the authorities or a computer geek, no one knows your location.
After turning down the bed, I went into the bathroom for my nightly “beauty” routine. When I came out, Miss Una was waiting for our usual reading session, during which I slipped off to dreamland. After a short while, I awoke short of breath and feeling weighted in my extremities. I glanced around. No cat. That was not unusual since she had taken to nocturnal guard duty at the slider. I sank back on the pillows and tried to recapture the flow of sleep. But it was not to be. Gradually, my breathing slowed and I felt my body becoming lighter.
* * * * *
My vision has returned. The scene is brighter than before. I am exiting a bus on Wilder Avenue. I look left and right, then down at a note scribbled on a white, lined, three-by-five inch card. I look closely. The writing is not mine.
I stare at the hands in front of me. No rings. There is a Hopi silver bracelet on my right wrist. The face of a stainless steel Seiko diving watch on my left is turned to the inside of my wrist to keep it from being smashed. How do I know this? Ariel always wore her watch this way so she did not have to remove it if she had an opportunity for unexpected tennis sets.
Okay. This is a new phenomenon. In this vision, I am not me. I am Ariel. It has been hard enough having visions throughout my life, but now I am personally experiencing the action as one of the people involved in it. The scene around me fades from full color in real time to dull-toned images that reveal themselves in cadenced slow-motion. I am literally of two minds, observing myself thinking and behaving as Ariel.
I float along the sidewalks, looking around as the newcomer to the neighborhood that Ariel will be. I consider the bus routes I’ll take to school, for grocery shopping, and to meet friends or Aunt Natalie in Waikīkī. Suddenly, my slow-motion progress up the winding street snaps.
Now in real time and full color, I look at the front of the Makiki Sunset Apartments as though for the first time. A sign below the name of the complex announces “Vacancy” in large letters. I walk into the nearest entry to the parking lot. It’s nearly empty. There are two buildings separated by a large patch of scraggly grass. Mid-way, an old volleyball net announces there may be fun-loving residents waiting for a new player. Toward the back, a fierce dragon breathes out a stream of water from the top of a tall, three-tiered, rectangular black granite water fountain.
A fancy door stands out from others on the building to the left. A brass-edged sign with black lettering announces this is the manager’s office. Hanging off the bottom is a smaller sign in stenciled aluminum that says Open. I approach the door and knock.
A small Asian woman in a long orange and blue mu`umu`u comes out onto the tiny cement slab in front of the apartment. She welcomes me for a scheduled preview of an apartment. Introductions are simple: she’s Miss Wong; I’m Ariel Harriman. Reaching back through the doorway, the woman pulls a ring of keys and clipboard from a table just inside the entrance. We walk across the courtyard, chatting about my upcoming year at UH and the many perks I’ll enjoy as a tenant in this excellent property.
We arrive at a steep set of stairs at the center of the second building. Miss Wong grabs the railing and begins climbing. She glances over her shoulder occasionally to ensure I’m with her. By the time we reach the top floor, I’ve learned about the many amenities that come with the apartment: In addition to the volleyball court, there’s a patio along the back of the two buildings with hibachis for grilling. Each building has a laundry facility on the ground floor; and, on the top floors there are soda and ice machines.
Miss Wong escorts me to unit B406. We face a door flanked by a narrow strip of louver windows. She inserts a worn brass key in the lock. Although the apartment is about to be painted and cleaned, we take off our shoes before entering. We’re standing in a large living room. Along the left wall are three doors. The first is to the master suite, with a bedroom and attached bathroom. Next is a slightly smaller bedroom, followed by a guest bathroom.
Ahead are narrow pillars framing an arched entry to the kitchen and dining area. On each side are cabinets with leaded-glass doors and open shelving above. I can already picture displaying my collectibles. To the right is a space for a dining table, in front of a slider leading to the lānai. To the left is a small kitchen with lots of storage and counters with way cool old black and white tiles.
I look down at my watch and wonder when my friend TJ will arrive. We’re both signing the lease, but as the primary tenant, I get to enjoy the master suite. I try not to laugh. The bedroom’s closet is the size of Grandpa Nathan’s broom closet. Although the bathroom has a vintage pedestal sink and convenient tub-shower combination, it needs a thorough scrubbing. It’s too bad that Auntie Carrie is no longer capable of conversation. I’ll have to ask Aunt Natalie about removing rust stains.
Classic music interrupts Miss Wong’s launch into the benefits of the investment she’s made to provide her tenants with Wi-Fi and cable connections. She looks at me with a blank stare while she listens to the voice coming through her cell phone. She hangs up and says she has to take care of a family matter.
Yes, I like the unit. Yes, I can finish exploring the complex by myself. Of course, I’ll close and lock the door on my way out. Yes, I’ll meet her at her apartment when I am through looking over the property. And I’ll call my friend TJ to find out when she’ll arrive.
Miss Wong departs. I walk through the living, dining and kitchen areas, picturing how I’ll arrange the few pieces of furniture that we’ll need. I’m only going to be here for a year and since I’ll be travelling through Europe after completing a class this summer, I don’t need to bother with much more than a bed before the fall. As TJ’s only a sophomore, she may decide to get another roommate when I leave after graduation next year.
The refrigerator and cupboard doors are open. The shelf-lining paper looks clean enough, but smells like a combination Korean barbecue restaurant and pizzeria—sure signs there’s a healthy—or maybe not-so-healthy—student population on site. The sliding door to the lānai is cracked open. I walk out onto the balcony and look down at the parking lot. Although neither TJ nor I have cars, the space will come in handy when our friends come for a volleyball game or barbecue.
I pull out my smart phone. I text TJ. Twice. No reply.
I walk back through the small apartment and put on my shoes at the front door. I look over the walkway railing and down into the volley ball court. Yeah, that could be a cool way to end a day. No sign of Miss Wong. She must have returned to her apartment.
I call
TJ. No response. She calls me back, out of breath. She’s sorry she got held up. Her English prof called her in after her exam. Sooo sorry. She’ll try to call again before she and her boyfriend Sean board their flight to Hilo. I can fill her in on the apartment later. If I like it, I should sign the lease and offer a deposit. We joke about the lingerie shopping we did in hopes that Sean’s ready to pop the big question during their weekend getaway.
Well, I guess I’m on my own. It’s awfully hot and I’m thirsty. I might as well get a soda from the refreshment alcove that’s next door. That’s what it’s here for—aside from generating some extra income for Miss Wong. I turn and walk the few steps to the open archway. There’s a slight movement to my side and I see the back of a man in a work shirt crouched down beside the soda machine that’s pulled out slightly from the wall. He’s staring intently at a metal box in front of him. I hope he’ll be through fixing the machine in a minute.
Despite the open space, it smells like a sweaty men’s locker room. I walk toward the back wall’s arched cutout and look down at the parking lot. Turning around, I see the repair man is still working. I guess I won’t be able to get a drink. I walk toward the doorway. Suddenly, my vision is blocked. My breath catches and I hear the abrupt cry of a mynah bird.
CHAPTER 10
Put yourself on view. This brings your talents to light.
Balthasar Gracián y Morales [1601-1658]
“Ariel definitely did not fall off the lānai. Like you said, even if she had wanted to commit suicide, she would not have landed where she did—if she went straight over the railing of the balcony of apartment B406. She had to have fallen from that little alcove with the ice and soda machines. I know that’s where she fell from. While she was waiting for her friend TJ to show up. Pearl Wong had to follow up on a phone call, like she did with me the day I came to look the place over.” I paused, if only to catch my breath.
“Hold on, Natalie. What are you saying? It goes way beyond what we discussed last night. How do you know all this? Did something happen after we spoke?” I could tell Keoni was trying to constrain his impatience with the disjointed information I was imparting and the tone of desperation in my voice.
I tried to calm my inner self. Maybe I should not have called him. We did not know each other all that well and I needed to weigh how much of myself to reveal. How much did I want to tell him about my unique ability to ken the shape of a situation before all of the concrete facts are visible to the rest of the world.
“I just know. You have to believe me when I say I really know something.”
“I’m not disbelieving you. But let’s pull back and start over.”
He paused, more for my benefit than his. “All right, Natalie. It’s now seven-thirty a.m., and I’m having my first cup of coffee. Since I finished my last scheduled case last night, I slept in this morning. So, how about you? Have you had your coffee yet? Or anything else?”
“No, I haven’t had any coffee, or anything else for that matter. I just wanted to tell you what I’ve…what I’ve surmised.”
My mind and pulse were racing. What next? I really should not have called him until I had sorted out my last vision and arrived at some plausible reason for my assertions.
“Natalie, are you still there?”
“Uh, yeah. I’m thinking you’re right. I need to go make a cup of coffee and think all this through.”
“You still haven’t told me what all this is. You know, I’m suddenly remembering something about your brother Nathan. You know what they called him, in his department and mine? Nate the Gate. It was like he could enter some gateway to the minds of some of the worst offenders. That didn’t always bode well for the system. Sometimes he came up with scenarios that allowed the bad guys to get off with a visit to a cushy facility for reconditioning their thought processes, rather than the sentence in the slammer we thought their actions deserved.”
Silence. I had nothing to say. I knew what Keoni was talking about. Both Nathan’s uncanny ability to nose out the truth, and his desire for fairness to all concerned, have brought consternation to both his family and colleagues through the years.
“You’re twins, right?”
“Mmhm.” He could find that much out on his own.
“So, uh, do you two have that twin bond I’ve read about? That ability to communicate with each other on a different wave length than the rest of us?”
Another pregnant pause. I was not sure if I liked where this one-sided conversation was going, but it sure saved me from having to fully explain myself.
“I’ll take the silence to be a ‘yes.’ And what about everything you’ve been telling me this morning? You said nothing happened during the night, and you’ve barely started your day.”
“Mmm. Well, I didn’t say nothing happened last night.”
“Okay. So something happened that gave you all this information.”
“Sort of.” I was squirming at the thought of having to explain my visions. It had been a long time since I had told anyone about my unusual viewing of life’s unfolding moments. Until recently, I could always share my concerns about my visions with Nathan. And nothing had occurred since my return to the Islands that required me to reveal myself to anyone else.
“Look, I’m here for you, Natalie. I’ve told you that. There’s not much I haven’t seen, heard of or read about that’s going to shock me. Am I right, it’s one of those kenning things the Irish talk about?”
I was impressed. He knew the word kenning. Maybe this time, revealing myself was going to be a lot easier than it had been earlier in my life.
“I guess you’ve caught me. Yeah, it’s that ‘kenning thing.’ I’ve had visions since Nathan and I were kids. Most of them have to do with him or others in our family. Every once in a while, it’s something else, but not often.”
“So, you had a vision about Ariel’s death last night?”
“Yes. And it’s not the only one I’ve had.”
That was it. The dam burst, and I could not stop myself. I told him about all three of the visions I had experienced, each with increasing detail—especially the last one, in which I literally experienced the review of apartment B406 as Ariel. It had revealed the initials, ‘TJ,’ of the friend who was to be her roommate and confirmed that I was right about Ariel not falling off the apartment’s balcony in some crazed suicide.
Although I was sure it was a lot for him to absorb, he did not interrupt with words of doubt, and even made reassuring sounds of support in all the right places.
“You’ve really been through the ringer. No wonder you wanted to move into that apartment. And you’ve been bottling all this up, without sharing with anyone. You’re smoother than most of the undercover cops I’ve worked with.”
From that point, we tried to steer the conversation back into the calmer waters of “normalcy” in our relationship. Except for the minor detail that we would never be able to go back to the polite banter that two people can enter into when they only know each other casually. We finished our call by agreeing he would come over for a round of “housewarming” cocktails and pūpūs that afternoon.
I put down the phone in a slight daze. I felt more grounded than I did most times after a vision, but there was still that gap between what I envisioned and the concrete world around me. Hearing Keoni’s support and his acceptance of my “gift” had definitely helped my self-esteem and confidence that I was not crazy.
While the vision provided confirmation of my analysis of the physical space from which Ariel fell, it was only a start. I needed to know the autopsy results. Thank goodness I would now be able to share both my real-time analysis and vision-driven speculations with someone like Keoni who would bring decades of professional experience to the examination table!
It was nearing two weeks since Ariel’s death. I could not sit on my hands waiting for the call from the ME’s office to come
through. It would have been logical to discuss Ariel’s friends with Nathan—especially the mysterious “TJ” whom I had never heard mentioned. Beyond that general level of inquiry, it was almost time to engage Nathan in a serious contemplation of several key questions. Why did Ariel die? Had someone intended to harm Ariel? If so, Who might have taken action to harm her?
Despite my immersion in the world of detection, it was my first day in the volunteer tutoring program so I could not pursue my personal inquiries immediately. In addition to being a cause I care about deeply, my volunteering was part of my cover while living in Makiki. Gladly, no one at the apartments needed to know that I would not actually be tutoring until the second summer session. That left me plenty of time for my real job of sleuthing.
“Sorry, Miss Una, it’s another day on your own,” I apologized while checking her food and water. Getting ready was a cinch, since I did not have to impress anyone with my sense of style today. I looked at the stove’s clock and was glad I did not have far to go for the morning’s briefing.
In spite of my late start, I arrived on time for the opening salvo of volunteer recruit training. Having been fortunate in my own education, I looked forward to being a one-on-one tutor for young adults who had missed their chance to graduate with their high school class, or were foreign students preparing to enter classes in the fall.
Since I have tutored in literacy and college prep programs before, there was nothing stressful in my readying myself for this round. However, every organization has its standards and teaching materials, and I wanted to perform at my best, despite my personal tragedy. I had resisted the opportunity to participate in both summer sessions, knowing I needed to be available for anything that might come up with regard to Ariel’s case. Nevertheless, I was glad to set aside my nagging doubts about my darling grandniece and concentrate on other people’s challenges for a couple of hours. By morning’s end, we had heard an opening lecture, received our initial assignments, and had a half-hour of team building.
Prospect for Murder (Natalie Seachrist Hawaiian Cozy Mystery 1) Page 12
