The Voluptuous Vixen (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 9)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  Miss Hale asked, "Even as a murderess?"

  Frankie replied, "Look at her friend. She killed both her parents. They'd been in there together."

  "Why do you think they were released on the same day?" That was Mr. Williams.

  "I think that somehow the doc was involved with that. Maybe he told one of his old pals that he'd keep an eye on them. Who knows? But, I'd guess it was a good-faith mistake."

  Ros asked, "Why did he kill her?"

  Frankie smiled grimly. "Fits the profile."

  "How so?" I asked.

  "Remember, Rosie is the free bird. She's the one who's runnin' wild. He probably thought that if he got rid of the first one, then she would calm down. Obviously not. He realizes the mistakes he's made. Once the coroner here in Honolulu starts pokin' around, it's gonna be obvious who killed the Jessica gal. He's hidin' out on a cruise ship, after all. But now his plan ain't workin'."

  "What was his plan?" asked Ros.

  "Hell if I know. Maybe he thought he could push them both overboard. My guess is that he didn't really know what he was gonna do. Killin' them with his own drugs and his own needle was probably not what he planned. So, when he killed Rosie, he figured he'd have to off himself. Otherwise, the state of California or the U.S. government, I dunno who'd have jurisdiction at sea. It was the needle or the chair. Take your pick."

  Miss Hale took a deep breath. "But I read that the doctor had been put under house arrest, or whatever you call it, and then he killed that poor girl and himself."

  Frankie nodded. "And now we come to the real big scandal that ain't broke yet. If Coral Lines is still in business this time next year, I'll be surprised."

  . . .

  Ros and Freddie left with Miss Hale and Mr. Williams. I asked Frankie and Maria to stay for a few moments, even though it was after 2 in the morning by the time the party broke up.

  "When do you go back to New York?" I asked.

  Frankie answered, "Next week. We're flying to San Francisco. We layover for a few days to see the sights and then we fly home."

  "You ever think of going back to work?" I asked.

  Frankie's perpetual grin faded. "Why?"

  "I was just thinking it might be good to have an operative on the East Coast, that's all. Would you be interested?"

  Carter leaned forward. "You'd be our first heterosexual, though."

  Frankie and Maria laughed at that. Maria looked over at Frankie and said, "Should we tell them?"

  I wondered what was coming. I had an idea but I figured it was going to be good, no matter what.

  Frankie nodded. "You do the honors."

  Maria smiled demurely and said, "Before I moved to New York from Chicago, and before I married this guy, I used to be known as Marvin Walinski."

  Carter sat back in his seat in surprise. "Are you two really married?"

  Frankie nodded. "We got the license and everything. When Maria came to New York, she started using that name. By the time we met, she looked just like this. And she's the love of my life." He turned and kissed her on the cheek.

  She said, "Only a handful of friends know. And we have a friend in common."

  "Who?" I asked.

  "Alex Rivelli."

  Now, I was surprised. Alex was a man we'd met in New York back in '49. He worked as a female illusionist and we'd spent a wonderful few days with him as he'd shown as around the town.

  "How is Alex?" asked Carter.

  "He's busy." That was Maria. "He's working every night and making quite a name for himself. His show is always sold out."

  Carter said, "I hadn't heard from him in a while. We were writing pretty regularly until '52 or so and then I never heard back from him. I'd asked our other friend, José Sarria in San Francisco, if he was OK and he'd said Alex was real busy and not to worry about it."

  This was all news to me. Of course Carter had stayed in touch. He did that. I, on the other hand, didn't.

  "So?" I asked Frankie, "what do you think?"

  He nodded. "Let us talk it over and we'll get in touch with you."

  I said, "That's fine. Just call the office and they'll track me down. And no rush on this. Take your time and think about it. I just think you'd be a good addition to our team."

  Frankie smiled while Maria leaned in and asked, "What if we were on the West Coast?"

  I smiled. "Even better. Are you thinking of moving to L.A.?"

  She shook her head. "No. San Francisco."

  I smiled even broader. "I happen to own an apartment building or two. I'd be happy to throw in an apartment as part of the offer."

  Frankie laughed, reached over, and punched me in the shoulder. "Now we're talkin'."

  Chapter 11

  Lihue Airport

  Island of Kauai

  Hawaii Terr.

  Tuesday, August 17, 1954

  Early evening

  Taking her good advice, I did what Ros suggested and sent a telegram to my intrepid travel agent, Ralph. By noon on Tuesday, he'd rented a house for us on Kauai Island. The man it belonged to had recently died, and the estate was leasing the house while matters were being worked out between the squabbling heirs.

  We said our goodbyes to everyone over a late lunch. There were tearful hugs and promises to stay in touch, which I knew Carter would do even if I forgot. I gave Frankie and Maria the number to the office and told them to call Marnie before they left Honolulu.

  Before we left the hotel, I called Marnie and explained about Frankie and Maria, omitting some parts, and asked her to make arrangements for them to stay at the Mark Hopkins while they were in town.

  "How're you feelin', doll?"

  "Better, Nick. My ankle's all healed up. And it's just a matter of time before the cast on my arm comes off."

  "Alex takin' good care of you?"

  She giggled and said, "Yeah." Her lack of further details was a good sign. There were some things she never discussed.

  "Give everyone our love. I'll let you know when we're about to fly home."

  "Have fun, Nick. And give Carter a big kiss for me."

  "You bet I will, doll."

  . . .

  The concierge at our hotel arranged our flight over to Kauai. Our pilot, Joe Wong, ran his own charter service and had a single airplane, a surplus Douglas C-47 he'd bought off the Navy after the end of the war. The front half of the ship had passenger seats. The back half contained a netted cargo bay. We were two of five passengers and our two trunks were about half of the cargo he was carrying.

  Once we were in the air and about five hundred feet over the ocean, an older woman appeared and stood by Carter, who was sitting in the aisle while I was by the window. She had dark hair that was tied in a knot and sat on top of her head. Her dark eyes glittered in the bright sunlight that was reflected from the water below. She was wearing a colorful dress in a floral pattern with a strand of pearls around her neck. She smiled at Carter and asked, "Your first time to Kauai?"

  Carter nodded and said, "Yes, ma'am. We're from San Francisco."

  "That's a very big city." She smiled at me and asked, "Did you like Honolulu?"

  I nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

  "Are you on a sightseeing trip, perhaps?"

  Carter said, "Well, ma'am, we spent a couple of nights on Waikiki Beach in a big hotel and decided we wanted to be somewhere quieter."

  The woman beamed. "Kauai is the most beautiful of the islands. We call it the Garden Island."

  "Are you from there?" asked Carter.

  "Yes. All my life I have lived there. I never left until last week when I flew to see my son who lives on Oahu. He is a doctor and works in a small town."

  I said, "You must be proud of him."

  She nodded. "Yes, I am. His patients all love him just as I do. Now he has a wahine, a girlfriend. I met her and she's very nice. Her family is taking care of my son." She sighed. "Now I can relax. I worried too much about him being so far away." She laughed. "That must seem strange to you since you came all the way from the
mainland."

  Carter nodded. "We sailed over. It was a long trip. Like taking the train."

  "This flight will be very short, by comparison. When we get closer, you'll see Kipu Kai, where the mountains go into the sea. Off in the distance, if there are no clouds, you can see Kawaikini, which is the mountain at the heart of the island."

  Carter unbuckled his seat belt and asked, "Would you rather sit, ma'am?"

  She shook her head. "I am standing so I do not sit too long." She laughed. "I could not fly all the way to California and sit in a chair all the way there. I much prefer to stand, but I thank you, young man."

  Carter put his seat belt back on as I said, "My name is Nick Williams and this is my friend, Carter Jones."

  She smiled and nodded. "You may call me Mrs. Kalama." A wave of recognition passed over her smooth face. "I have seen your names in the newspaper, no?"

  I didn't reply. Carter nodded and said, "You might have."

  She put her hand on his shoulder and said, "Yes, I have." She smiled broadly. "I hope you both will have an enchanted time here on our beautiful island."

  Carter nodded. "I think we will, Mrs. Kalama. Thank you."

  She nodded and walked back to her seat.

  . . .

  Lihue was the largest town on the island. The airport was located right on the coast a few miles outside the town. As we walked down the steps from the aft end of the plane, a young man walked up. He stood about 5'9" and was muscular, with broad shoulders and a broad face. To me, he looked Hawaiian, although I didn't know what that meant, exactly. His dark hair was long, thick, and curly. It fell almost to his shoulders. He was wearing a plaid shirt, cut-off trousers, and sandals.

  He smiled and extended his hand. "Are you Mr. Williams? I'm Jeff. I'm here to pick you up."

  I nodded and shook. Carter extended his hand and said, "I'm Carter Jones."

  The young man grinned and said, "Let's get your luggage on the truck so we can get home before dark."

  Carter said, "We have two trunks. They're in the cargo bay."

  "Right," said Jeff. He pointed over to a beat-up '39 Ford truck and said, "Wait over there. I'll find a cart and get Joe to help me wheel them over."

  . . .

  Once the trunks were loaded up in the back, the three of us piled into the cab and bounced along together on the main road that led up the east coast of the island. The going was slow as the road was narrow and Jeff was cautious, never shifting out of second gear and sticking to 25 m.p.h. or lower the whole trip. We were cozy in the cab. I had to squeeze up next to Carter so Jeff could shift the gears.

  "First time to Kauai?" asked Jeff.

  Carter said, "Yeah. Beautiful island."

  "They call it the Garden Island."

  Carter and I both laughed.

  "What?"

  I replied, "A woman on the airplane gave us the tourist's introduction."

  Jeff didn't reply. We drove in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Carter asked, "Are you from here?"

  "Sure. Born and raised. Been to Oahu a few times. And Hawaii, the big island. But never left the territory."

  "You married?" I asked.

  Jeff grinned and said, "Not really. You could say we're together, though."

  "Any family?" I asked.

  "Nope. I'm an orphan."

  "Really?" I asked.

  Jeff shifted in his seat. "No. My father died right after the war. My mom died about six months later. I was 17. My grandmother took me in and I lived with her until she died. That's when Mr. Thompson hired me. My grandmother had worked for him when the plantation was up and running."

  "What'd they grow?" asked Carter.

  "Pineapple, mostly. Or they tried. By the time I was born, it was all gone. Didn't matter to the old man. He was rich before he moved to Kauai and, from what I can tell, just got richer."

  Carter asked, "What do you do?"

  "I'm the houseboy for the Thompson House. Worked for old man Thompson for about three years. His kids hated him, poor guy. Only ever saw them once and that was after the funeral. Two of 'em, one uglier than the other. They came in takin' inventory, tellin' me not to steal anything. The old man's lawyer showed up about thirty minutes later and made 'em leave. He told me how I'd have to manage the place and how they were gonna rent it out to tourists. You're the first ones."

  "When did he die?" I asked.

  "About two months ago. So, I've been keeping it clean and ready for guests and no one's come yet. Glad you're here. It gives us something to do."

  "Us?" I asked.

  "That's John. He's my buddy. Works with me."

  I nodded and wondered about that.

  . . .

  The Thompson House was at the end of a dirt road on the north side of the island. It was dusk when we arrived. As soon as he killed the ignition, I could hear the crash of the surf off in the distance. As we stood under the big sky, now turning a deep purple, Carter looked down at me, with wonder in his face, and said, "It smells like paradise here."

  I took in a deep breath and realized what he meant. Besides the aroma of damp earth at night, it seemed like I could smell a hundred beautiful flowers all around us.

  The tropical air was soft and warm on my face and my arms. Every so often, a sea breeze would blow over us, bringing the tang of salt air. Then it would be replaced with the floral scents on the night air.

  Jeff asked, "Two rooms or one?"

  Carter walked around to the back of the truck and said, "One. Whatever room has the best view."

  Jeff joined him and opened the tailgate. As he pulled on the handle of the first trunk, he said, "That would be the one the old man used. It's made up and ready to go. But it only has one bed."

  Carter said as he took hold of the back end of the trunk, "That'll do us fine."

  Jeff looked up at Carter and asked, "So, it's like that, is it?"

  I walked over and said, "It sure is. Any problems?"

  Jeff smiled and said, "Not with me."

  Carter nodded. "Fine. Let's get these inside." And we did.

  . . .

  The morning light and the sound of the surf beyond the cliff woke me up after a very long and confusing dream. I had been trying to find something I'd left behind on the Hilo and was walking up and down the passageways and along the decks looking for whatever it was. As I opened my eyes, I could see Carter's face right in front of mine. He was sleeping soundly, making that faint snoring sound he always made. In the soft light that was filling the room, his face was peaceful and serene.

  I sat up and looked outside. All I could see beyond the porch was an expanse of sky slowly turning blue as the sun rose up somewhere that I couldn't see. We'd slept in the buff and without sheets. The air had been warm all night and caressed us as we held each other, listening to the surf and the sounds of insects in the dark night.

  I stood up and walked to the screen. The windows were on rollers and slid apart easily. Jeff had suggested we leave the screen doors, also on rollers, closed in case anything decided to fly, creep, or crawl in while we were sleeping. Trying not to wake Carter, I tested the screen door and found that it moved noiselessly as I opened it.

  Stepping out onto the wide porch, I took in the vista before me. Under the big sky, my view was outlined by swaying palm trees on either side. A green lawn sloped away from the porch and down to a white-washed rock wall. I walked down the steps from the porch and tried out the grass on my city feet. The green blades were like a soft cushion. I floated across them and down to the rock wall.

  I stepped up onto the wall, which was cemented across the top, and looked down at the narrow strip of beach about a hundred feet below. The feeling of being on the edge of the world made me step back down on the soft grass. As far as I could see was a big blue ocean. The sky was clear and just as wide.

  I sat down on the grass and laid on my back, looking up at the vast sky. Between the fragrance in the air, the sound of the ocean below, and the softness of the breeze, I wondered if
maybe we'd all drowned on the ship and this was what heaven actually looked like.

  Just then, a big wet tongue licked the side of my face, bringing me back to ground. I turned over on my side and came face-to-face with a mutt that was grinning and very happy to see me. I reached over and scratched behind his neck. He licked my nose and then began to sniff around me.

  "Come on, Rex." That was Jeff from somewhere behind me.

  I stood up in a hurry, remembering that I didn't have a lick of clothes on me. I saw Jeff and another man standing about ten feet away. They both had on tight trunks and looked like they'd just been out for a swim. Jeff was grinning and said, "Sorry to bother you, Mr. Williams. My buddy and I were out surfing and--" He shrugged.

  His friend stood there for a long moment before he walked up and offered his hand. As I shook it, he said, "I'm John." He was a little taller than Jeff and looked Japanese or Chinese. I couldn't tell for sure. He had straight black hair, dark black eyes, and a dimple in his chin.

  Neither of them, I noticed, had any body hair that wasn't on their head. I wondered, briefly, what that would be like in bed. Remembering, again, that I didn't have any clothes on, I began to walk towards the house.

  "Breakfast?" asked Jeff.

  I nodded and began to walk faster.

  . . .

  The plumbing, Jeff had explained the night before, was temperamental. The house had been built in the 1890s. There was a deep well that never ran dry. But the electrified pump didn't always work and, when it did, would deliver water in a slow trickle or with a big blast. Jeff said he preferred to bring in water from the hand pump outside the kitchen when he was cooking as it was more reliable. He'd suggested using the outdoor shower, on the porch, for daily bathing. That water was fed from a cistern on the roof that was replenished when it rained. And, according to Jeff, it rained almost every night.

  The outdoor shower was big enough for both of us. The mechanism was just like what we'd used on New Guinea at the Navy hospital. To activate the flow of water, you simply pulled on a chain. The water flowed as long as you held the chain down. We took turns holding the chain. I started off while Carter washed his hair and then mine. We switched so I could wash his body. We switched again so he could wash mine. The water smelled just like the air.