Prospect for Murder (Natalie Seachrist Hawaiian Cozy Mystery 1)

by Burrows-Johnson, Jeanne; June, Yasamine;

  Keoni politely pulled out my chair and I mentally observed there was something to be said for men of a certain age. He then poured us each a glass of Black Box Cabernet Sauvignon and lifted his glass for a toast. “Here’s to friendship in pursuit of truth.”

  “Indeed,” I responded and lit the spice scented candle I had brought from home. “And what about truth in friendship?”

  “Amen to that,” he said, again lifting his glass. “That’s one quality I’ve found lacking in a lot of relationships—whatever their basis.”

  We smiled in mutual recognition of the depth of those words and began passing dishes of food.

  “Mmm. Regardless of the degree of doneness, this is great meat,” I said truthfully.

  “Kūka`iau Ranch. The healthiest cattle in the country. Their secret is the air, water, and grassland of the Big Island. No grain feed for that herd.”

  “I’ll remember that next Christmas when I need a prime rib roast.” The reality of the purpose for our evening hit me: Never again would Ariel join a family holiday celebration—at least not physically.

  I quietly sipped my wine and we continued eating. I doubted that Keoni had noticed the change in atmosphere, but I resolved to halt any negativity on my part and make the most of the occasion. It was what Ariel would have insisted upon, aspiring match-maker that she had been. I could almost hear her mirthful laughter and see her teasing eyes in the darkening room.

  The weather was delightful that night and I was glad I had opened the slider fully. And aside from the parking lot, the view was beautiful, with passing clouds sweeping across the sky at twilight. Although we had known each other casually for several years, Keoni and I seemed to be moving closer on several levels. Without the encumbrance of superficial words, a rich unspoken dialogue was taking place between us. Smiling as our eyes met over the candle, I felt certain that in other circumstances, our evening would have proceeded quite differently.

  “How about a little of that dessert I promised you? Not too filling, but definitely decadent?”

  “I seldom say ‘No’ to a beautiful woman, and I’m certainly not going to start now,” Keoni responded.

  I could feel my face flushing again and covered my unexpected pleasure by picking up a couple of dishes. Although the evening was balmy, I was not prepared to spend a prolonged amount of time on the balcony. I suggested Keoni finish his wine in the living room while I got our dessert. Ever the polite gentleman, he carried an armful of dishes over to the sink before moving back to the wingback chair. Entering the living room a couple of minutes later, I saw Miss Una had arrived to claim his lap.

  “I see you’ve about finished your wine. Can I tempt you with a little peach brandy? I promise it’s a great compliment to the dark chocolate-covered macadamia nuts.”

  “Only a sip. A glass and a half of wine is already over my usual quota.”

  I set down my tray on the coffee table and poured a finger of brandy into a small snifter. Passing him the glass, I returned to the table and placed one piece of candy on a dessert plate.

  “I may have said just a sip of brandy, but are you going to limit my intake of candy, too?” asked Keoni.

  “Well, I don’t want you to totally blow your diet,” I teased.

  “Natalie, with the chips, steak, and bread, I think that’s already a non-issue tonight. However, I doubt you’ve been eating wildly lately, so let’s enjoy ourselves without any guilt.”

  I took in that remark in more than one way before handing him the plate of chocolates.

  “Now, don’t get too carried away. You have to help me eat a few of these.”

  “Oh, I assure you I will.” I was thinking it would give me an excuse to get up and move over to him periodically.

  For a few moments we concentrated on savoring the great blend of flavors.

  “Mmm. Maybe one more sip of brandy,” Keoni requested.

  I was only too happy to oblige him, but I did not want to be responsible for him breaking his vow to cut back on alcohol.

  I left the bottle on the small table beside him and reached above him to pet Miss Una, who was now seated on the chair back. She looked at my hand like it was an affront to feline tidiness, and immediately set about licking her fur back into place.

  “You seem to have made a friend for life,” I commented while reaching for another piece of candy.

  “I hope I’ve made two” he said smiling at me as Miss Una staked her claim by pawing Keoni’s shoulder.

  “We’re already supposed to be friends, but I don’t know if Miss Una will be willing to share,” I chuckled, returning to the sofa to look at them both over my glass of brandy.

  Somehow, I managed not to blush at this bit of repartee, but I definitely felt my spirits lift. “I have a few notes I thought I’d review with you, in preparation for my next meeting with Pearl Wong.”

  “Good idea. Read away.” Settling in, Keoni steadied the cat and slid the chair back into a three-quarter recline.

  Munching my last macadamia nut, I opened a spiral notebook and shared a summary of what I had learned during my short residency at the Makiki Sunset Apartments. First I went through the schedules of mail and shipping deliveries. I had found that all of them were completed by noon, unless there was a special delivery of some kind. Next, I provided an overview of the tenants I had met on my walkabouts and recapped the little I knew about the Wong sisters. Finally, I turned to their extended family.

  “Jade’s son is Richard. With the name Bishop, Richard’s father could have been a high profile lawyer, minister or businessman—or a major landholder—like other bearers of the eighteenth-century missionary name.”

  Keoni quickly quipped, “Or an insignificant and wholly-unrelated person.”

  “That’s true. As to the familial dynamics, I’ve never seen anything warm and fuzzy between Richard and his aunt Pearl. And I think I’ve told you that he doesn’t look like either of the Wong sisters, so I doubt the man is biologically related to Jade. But if I learn his father’s full name tomorrow evening, I can prowl through newspaper announcements of engagements and weddings to see if he was married to someone before Jade.”

  Keoni nodded. “That’s a good strategy. I doubt that searching the Web for ‘Richard Bishop’ would yield much by itself. But with his father’s middle name—let alone verifying who his mother is, or was—you might trace him through birth records.”

  “You’re right. And even if he isn’t related to the Wong family, there might be adoption records or other information that is relevant.”

  I paused to think about the members of the Wong family I had met. “Well, except for the unknown details of their wealth, that takes care of the family that owns the apartments. I’m still wondering if there might be anything unusual about the complex itself? I guess I can run a quick check of title records to see if anything odd pops up.”

  “It may be the cop in me, but I think it’s more important to check for media accounts of crimes that may have occurred here or any that involved the complex’s residents. There’s also the civil side of the law. You might look into whether there have been any lawsuits brought against the current or previous owners.”

  I busily wrote notes on the issues Keoni had raised. “I think I should have called you before starting this project.”

  “You see what materializes when you’re forthright about things?”

  “Well, I couldn’t be sure how things would develop between us.”

  “You mean by trusting me enough to give me the full story?” Keoni asked.

  “Well, it would have meant divulging details of my life that I’m seldom prepared to share with anyone.”

  “Natalie, we’ve known each other for quite a few years. And we’ve been friends for more than four. In that time you should have realized you could be straight with me.”

  “I’m sorry…Few people
understand how it is with my “gift.” I thought your work with the law would have made you suspicious of anything you can’t see and measure.”

  “Where have you been the last twenty years? Haven’t you noticed all the reports on government agencies working with psychics on a daily basis? Sure there are nuts and quacks out there, but I’ve seldom known a cop who’s going to say ‘no’ to any kind of help, especially if it’s offered free of charge.”

  I sighed and looked into his eyes. “I’m not a psychic. Not anything like that. I just have dreams and visions sometimes.”

  He laughed and replied, “From my perspective, it looks like these visions of yours can be damned on-target. I’m open to hearing more about them, any time you’d like to share. Right now I’m contemplating how we might confirm some of what you’ve seen. Even if the information doesn’t seem concrete, it could be your interpretation that needs deeper examination. For now, let’s consider the elements of your next round of research.”

  I nodded, trying to keep the tension I felt from showing in my face.

  “Is there anyone else you’ve run into who’s worthy of a little attention from some of my ‘official’ connections?”

  “In terms of the management, there’s one non-family member we could look into. Al Cooper, the owner of the Mustang, on which Ariel…you know. Since he seems settled in his position of resident handyman, I doubt that he’s a newcomer to Honolulu. But if he’s not a known criminal, I don’t know how easy it would be to check on him.”

  “Mmm. His surname’s pretty common, which could be a problem without a middle name or initial. But I think I know someone who can get a line on him through his vehicle registration. And I can look into whether he’s repaying a loan on the Mustang.”

  “Of course. I remember his talking about that man-toy of his the first time I came here. He said he was getting ready for some kind of auto event at the Ala Moana Shopping Center scheduled for the night Ariel died. He must belong to a classic car club. If it’s big enough to hold events at a shopping center, I can check the newspapers for contact persons.”

  “Good thinking. But before you get carried away and buy one of those vintage babies, why don’t you let me run that end of things past a few of my buddies who are noted for collecting more than guns. Also, I know you haven’t been here very long, but have you seen or heard about any patterns of activity relating to Fridays? Like regular pharmacy or grocery deliveries being made to the same tenant? Maybe a delivery person being overly interested in some aspect of life in the complex or making repeated visits to someone unrelated to their job?”

  “I’ve looked into everything I can, Keoni. Except for the mail, UPS and FedEx, the only other consistent interaction with a service provider is the Department of Environmental Services—That’s garbage and recycling to the layman. They come on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Unfortunately, I haven’t found anything that occurs on a regular basis on Fridays…the day Ariel died. Aside from the small number of delivery people, there are the tenants to consider. The only thing I can tell you about them is that their movements are erratic. Like you’d expect, students and military personnel come and go at all hours.

  “As to the military guys and gals who live here, their schedules fall into three categories. Those stationed here on O`ahu are usually on pretty rigid timetables, with pre-dawn departures and late afternoon returns. The second group is virtually invisible, because those people are deployed and therefore gone from here for months at a time. Our third group comes from the Navy…personnel stationed on ships that remain pier-side most of the time, but pull in and out of the harbor sporadically. Of course, there are the buddies who visit with no discernible pattern.

  “I haven’t seen any other recognizable patterns of movement. I’ve even checked to see if anyone—military or civilian—has moved in or out since Ariel’s death. No one has left. A couple of people, like me, have moved in.”

  “It must be the magnetism of that great volleyball court. Or maybe the exotic allure of the dragon fountain.”

  “Now just a minute. Outside of the stash of valuable antiques and furnishings in Pearl Wong’s apartment, that fountain is one of the best features in this place.”

  I scratched a few more lines in my notebook. Miss Una then decided it was time for a change in venue. Jumping down from her perch above Keoni, she cocked her head at us and sidled up to the slider, like she does in the condo.

  “I guess the honeymoon is over,” observed Keoni. “It looks like your roommate is getting bored.”

  “Some girls just don’t know a good thing when it’s right in front of them,” I said, standing up. “Thanks for helping me brain storm. I think I’ve got several ideas for making the most of my upcoming cocktail hour with Pearl Wong. Let’s take a break. May I offer you something else to drink, maybe some iced tea?”

  As Keoni stood at the door, the cat rubbed seductively around his ankles. “Sure,” he replied to me, bending down to Miss Una. “So, you think you need to go out? Do you promise to be a good girl?”

  She batted her amber eyes, reeling in her conquest. Keoni obliged and picked her up.

  “I’ve got her securely in my arms, she won’t be jumping anywhere,” he assured me.

  I juggled our glasses into one hand and opened the door. Keoni stepped out. Without any urging, Miss Una sprang up to Keoni’s right shoulder and wrapped her tail around his neck.

  “Thanks for the tea,” he said, reaching for the glass I offered.

  With Keoni by my side, I felt secure on the balcony for the first time. It felt so normal, standing close together, appreciating the lights of the distant hillside homes and beauty of the starlit sky overhead.

  “Are there any pīkake vines around here?” Keoni asked breathing in deeply.

  “I cannot tell a lie. It’s my perfume.’

  “Hmm. Combined with the scent of the brandy and the plumeria trees, it’s quite an aromatic summer’s eve.”

  Enjoying his presence as well as the night air, we stood there a while looking at clouds that periodically swept across to mask the twinkling stars peeking out above the foothills. Momentarily I felt both peaceful and anticipatory. But when Al Cooper’s rent-a-wreck pulled into his parking slot, I plummeted back into reality.

  Getting out of the car, he banged his door shut and shouted words that carried up to us in the clear night air. “Bitch, bitch, bitch. That’s all that old woman does. How about my feelings? Not a moment to myself since that little dyke ruined everything by dying on my car. Think they’re real funny, those lipstick lezzies. All dolled up and shakin’ their booty at normal guys. It’s disgusting, that’s what it is. And what’s a guy supposed to do? A woman like that doesn’t deserve the life God gave her.”

  Stunned, I looked up at Keoni who shook his head, indicating we should remain still and silent. Cooper then opened the rear passenger’s door and brought out a couple of paper bags. After bumping that door closed with his hip, he turned and walked into the courtyard, trumpeting “Depraved. That’s what they are, depraved.”

  After a moment, my dinner companion steadied Miss Una’s hindquarters with his right hand, and put his left arm snuggly around my waist. I was too choked up to speak as we re-entered the apartment. He then released his comforting hold on me and dropped the cat onto her perch by the door.

  Unable to process what I had just overheard, I cleaned the kitchen like an automaton. I began by rinsing the glasses and setting them on the counter. I then opened a lower cupboard door and pulled out the garbage can. After scraping and rinsing our dinner plates, I stacked them in the dishwasher. Eventually there was nothing more to be done. I sighed and tried to sweep away the mist clouding my eyes.

  Throughout my pantomime, Keoni had stood behind me in silent support. Slowly, he turned me to him and lifted my chin with a crooked forefinger. Before he could speak, I erupted.

  “I don’t unders
tand anything we just heard, Keoni. He sounded more like Richard Bishop. I get that his precious car was ruined, but clearly he doesn’t care that a person has died. And what did he say about Ariel? And what did he mean, when he called her a ‘dyke?’ Not that I would have loved her any less if she had been gay, but what could have given him the idea that she was a lesbian?”

  “I don’t know, Natalie. From the pictures I’ve seen, it wasn’t her hair, clothes or jewelry. I don’t know what else a person would notice about someone when seeing them for the first time.

  “Well, if they actually met, I can’t imagine any kind of conversation they could have had that would lead him to such a conclusion. And why would a potential tenant being gay matter to a handyman. Do you think that a complex like this has never had a gay person living or visiting here before?”

  I nodded my head in agreement. Keoni then poured some water into one of the brandy snifters, took me gently by the hand and escorted me into the living room. Setting the glass down on the coffee table, he pulled me onto the sofa. Sitting beside me, he handed me the glass and nodded for me to take a sip.

  “Natalie. I know you’re upset. I agree with your response. But let’s carefully review what we’ve overheard.

  “One, Al, the ever-present handyman, is extremely angry. Two, he thinks Ariel was gay. Three, from his tone and vocabulary, it’s a safe bet he hates gays. Although it may seem unlikely he would have consciously ruined his precious Mustang, I can easily count on one hand the number of perps who have worked against their best interests in the crimes they commit. One thing’s clear, that man’s venomous words make him a person of interest.”

  I drank some water and tried to slow my breathing. “Speaking of evidence, I haven’t had a chance to mention that tomorrow is the day Nathan and I are meeting with officialdom. Shortly before you arrived, he called to tell me we’re going to see both Marty Soli and your old partner Lieutenant Dias at the ME’s office late tomorrow morning. I didn’t mean to delay in telling you. But we got so busy with dinner and the tour and all that it slipped my mind.”