Death in the Orchid Garden

by Ann Ripley

  “No,” she said, afraid to say more for fear he noticed her tremors. When Randy Hau had proposed this plan to her, Louise had had no idea the results would be so physical. She’d thought that the lieutenant would capture Anne as she climbed up the porch of the lanai, not when the woman had half-smothered her.

  They both watched as Lieutenant Payne led Anne Lansing away in handcuffs. The woman jolted to a stop at the door and looked across at Louise. Her voice was like a drop of pure poison. “They’ll never prove this, Louise. It’s your word against mine and I’m a very convincing wordsmith.” The green eyes continued to stare at Louise, until Payne prodded her out the door.

  Hau said, “Sorry about that. Um, maybe you need someone to stay with you the rest of the night. Do you want me to call your friend, Mrs. Corbin?”

  Louise thought of how Steffi would be glad to help: She would come in and sit by her bed and soothe her until she fell asleep, like a mother soothing a disturbed child. But she was not a child. “No thanks, Randy.”

  “I’ve got to tell you, this worked out great.”

  “I guess so. I’m glad she didn’t get out her garden clippers. In that case, your timing would have been off.”

  49

  Tuesday morning

  Louise got up at six-thirty and put on the first clothes she could lay her hands on, navy shorts and a white T-shirt and her waterproof sandals, in case she had enough energy to walk upon the beach. Her head still felt as if it weren’t part of her body. Maybe she had suffered a concussion.

  She’d had a fitful night since Anne Lansing invaded her room. Anne’s hate-filled countenance and her final words rang in her ears, “It’s your word against mine.”

  For all she knew, Anne Lansing could have been arrested and out on bail by this time.

  Louise knew her choices were either to take a pill and sink back in bed, or go downstairs, get coffee, and face reality. The coffee sounded better, so she grabbed her SportSac and left the room.

  Downstairs, despite the early hour, there was a bustle of police activity in the lobby area. It was as if the entire Kauai County Police Department had moved its headquarters to the Kauai-by-the-Sea Hotel. She wandered by the registration desk, where sleepy-eyed employees looked vaguely resentful about the prospect of another dull day. Business had fallen off sharply at Kauai-by-the-Sea since it had become tainted with homicide.

  Behind the desk was the hall leading to the public relations office where Chief Randy Hau had set up shop. Hau was standing at the door of that office, staring into space. When he saw her, he beckoned her in. “Did you get some sleep?” he asked.

  “Some. Did you?”

  “Very little. I’ve been questioning people for the past six hours.” He beckoned her to the familiar visitor’s chair, while he settled in the executive chair. He waved out in the general direction of the hall. “As you can see, we have plenty of personnel here. We’ve been gathering every bit of evidence we can from the suite and when daylight broke, we started on the cliff and on the path between the two.”

  “Oh, good. Um, where is Anne Lansing?”

  “She and Christopher Bailey both have been moved up to Lihue. She’s been charged with assault and he’s detained for questioning. I’m going back there as soon as I brief you to question them. I’ve asked the islands’ FBI agents to come in and help with the interrogation. The two of them are lawyering up, of course. Their attorneys will be showing up soon.”

  “Anne denies everything, I’ll bet,” said Louise. A despondency was settling over her again; she thought of Tom Schoonover’s remarks about the statistics on murders that were never solved.

  The chief said, “You’ll be amazed at what she’s got to say. She claims that Christopher Bailey confessed to her that he killed the two scientists—Flynn because of some quibble over a plant, Bouting so that he could take over as head of the company. She says he forced her to help him take you up Shipwreck Rock. You were to be disposed of because you got the goods on him.”

  “What about Christopher? Is he sticking to what he said last night?”

  Police Chief Hau nodded. “His position is that he was not part of anything.”

  “But I’ll swear he was. Maybe you can at least show he’s been trying to access Bruce Bouting’s computer secrets—prints on the computer keys, or evidence he was searching for that password. As for Anne Lansing, she ought to have pepper spray residue on her somewhere.”

  “She does,” said the police chief. “And I’m sure we’ll find residue up on the cliff. She doesn’t deny that you sprayed her with pepper. She says it happened when she helped Bailey take you there.”

  Louise’s head was swimming, just listening to the lies. She got up from her chair and said, “I’m sorry, but I have to go get some breakfast. Let me know if you need me for anything, Randy. I’ll do anything to keep those two behind bars. If they get out on bail, I don’t trust them not to come after me again.”

  “I need you to think back on any detail that might help us pin the murders on her—something that puts her with you in this scene.”

  She paused for a moment by his desk, thinking. “I am remembering more things. In the suite, look for red soil on the rug near the gaming table. I must have dragged in some of it.”

  He shook his head. “Red soil is fungible. I don’t think that will make the case.”

  Then it came back to her, Anne’s cry of pain when Louise hysterically bunted her in the head. “I have something better. Look for strands of my hair in the duct tape the police removed from my mouth last night. When she started putting the tape on my mouth, I fought her. Some of my hair stuck to the tape and hurt like the very devil. Some of her hair strands probably got caught.”

  “Very good, “ said Randy Hau.

  “So I can go now?”

  “Yes, but I suggest we talk again after you eat. Who knows how much more you’ll be able to call up? Frankly, we’re up against two smooth characters. Ms. Lansing is particularly convincing to those who haven’t seen or heard of her. We want to tie both of them to the events of last night at the very least.”

  “But not to the murders?” She swayed slightly as she stood by the desk. “That woman is like a black widow. She might get away with the whole thing.”

  He looked at her strangely. “You promised the medicos here that you’d check in. I don’t like the look of you. Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’ll go to the clinic after I eat.”

  Louise walked down the hall toward the hotel dining room, noting that people were up now and getting ready to face another day in paradise. She was nearing the parrot cage. Not caring any more, she started to stroll by, but then saw the bird staring at her, a mass of feathery shivers as it wound up for another temper tantrum. She stopped before him and decided to stop being a wuss. She raised a bold hand in the air, as if she were a traffic cop ordering a citizen to stop. The bird looked baffled, twitched its feathers one more time, and then became as still as a statue. She nodded at the bird and marched on to the dining room.

  Once seated at a table, it was decision time again. She was ravenous. Would it be the lavish array of food laid out on the buffet table, or a custom breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast that would take at least fifteen minutes to get to the table? She opted for the bacon and eggs.

  Sipping her coffee, she stared out unseeing at the palms and causarina trees and allowed herself to wallow in depression. It felt as if the American justice system now rested on her shoulders. Two violent murders. How could she prove that Anne Lansing had committed them?

  Looking up, she saw Tom Schoonover walking across the room. He sat down and joined her. “Hi, Louise.”

  “What are you doing here so early?”

  “I was worried about you. I phoned Randy Hau to see how things were going. He told me what happened in your room last night.” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Tom, all the police have is that incident in my hotel room. About everything else, Anne and Christ
opher are telling different stories. She’s indicting him, while he’s professing total ignorance of what went on.”

  “We can hope for the best,” said Tom. “At least Anne will be brought up on charges of assault.”

  “And she gets away with murder.”

  After ordering his breakfast, Tom folded his hands in front of him and stared at her. “I have a possible solution. If the police can establish that Christopher was trying to break into Bouting’s computer program, they’d have him. It certainly sounds logical that the family would bring charges against him. Then the district attorney could offer him a deal if he’d testify about what Anne Lansing told him. He might be happy to do that for a reduced charge.”

  Once they were eating breakfast, she said, “This is not going to be an easy day.”

  He smiled sympathetically. “It’s as if you won the lotto and found out there’s no money in the pot.”

  She looked up from her plate and saw the sober-faced chief hurrying toward them. “What now?”

  “Maybe there is money in the pot,” said Tom.

  Randy Hau came over to their table and put a faintly trembling hand on Louise’s shoulder. “Good news,” he said, and couldn’t help grinning.

  “Sit down, Randy,” urged Tom Schoonover, and pulled out a chair for the policeman.

  “I couldn’t wait to tell you,” he said, leaning forward toward them. “A cursory examination through a magnifying glass of that duct tape is all I needed. I got quite a clump of your hair—uh, brown with a couple of gray strands—and a few strands of shorter, darker hair.”

  “That’s Anne Lansing’s.”

  “Yeah. And since it came out at the roots, there’ll be no trouble doing DNA testing. That’s a terrific boost to our case against her.” His face slowly broke into a smile. “And we have other good news.”

  “John?” she asked.

  “Yes,” said the chief. “John Batchelder can talk. He woke up a few minutes ago and came out of his semicoma. He told the officer stationed at the hospital what happened.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment and a sense of peace enveloped her. “What did he say?”

  “He’s a witness, in a sense, to both murders. Down there at the lava flow on Chain of Craters Road, he was tailing Anne Lansing.”

  “Hmm,” said Tom Schoonover. “I wouldn’t have thought he had it in him.”

  The police chief waved away a waiter who wanted to serve him coffee. He continued, “John saw Anne cajole Bruce Bouting into going inside that safety line. He witnessed it when she shoved him into the lava. Not only that, on the trip over to the Big Island, while standing in the restroom line, he overheard Dr. Bouting hint that she’d murdered Matthew Flynn.”

  The chief paused and grinned, self-consciously running a hand through his dark straight hair. “I can’t tell you how happy I am—my first two murder cases, solved.”

  “And what happens to Christopher Bailey?” asked Tom Schoonover.

  For a minute, Randy Hau’s face clouded. “His case is different, but with your help, Louise, I believe we can make a case for attempted murder.”

  She remembered Christopher’s reluctance to drag Louise up that cliff. “Yes, but he’s nowhere near as culpable as our deceptive friend, Anne—an unwilling participant, but she talked him into it. I realize now that John was trying to tell me about her before he lost consciousness after the accident. He wanted me to know that Anne’s love life was behind Matt Flynn’s death. She killed him to preserve her romantic relationship with the wealthy older man. Then she had to kill the older man when he saw right through her.”

  Tom said, “So, in order of ascending importance, her motives were love, money, and staying out of jail.”

  50

  As if traveling through some secret Hawaiian grapevine, the news spread rapidly through the hotel. A crowd began to gather around the table where she sat with Tom and the police chief. George Wyant, Charles Reuter, Nate Bernstein, and Ralph Pinsky had arrived—half of the contingent of eight visiting scientists from the mainland. Of the other four, two were dead and two were jailed. On everyone’s lips was talk of how Anne Lansing had now been tied to the killings.

  Wyant was the first to reach their table. He was clear eyed and professional appearing, in white shirt and clean tan khaki pants, his worn leather carryall slung over his shoulder, and hardly looked to be the same man who’d arrived stoned and unshaven last night in the Lanai Room. “I’ve heard,” George cried. “You bloody did it, Louise!” The young scientist reached down to where she sat and clasped both of her hands. “I can’t thank you enough. You cared enough when Matt and Bouting died to pay attention and do something about it. And not only that, you treated me decently when almost everyone else thought I might be enough of a shit to murder my best friend.”

  She smiled up at him. “I don’t know why, but I always believed you didn’t do it.”

  “Whatever the reasons,” he said, bending down now and enclosing her shoulders in a giant hug, “I won’t forget you when I’m down in those jungles.” As Wyant strode off, Ralph Pinsky, Charles Reuter, and Nate Bernstein, who were being filled in by the police chief, sauntered over to where Louise sat, to say good-bye and compliment her on helping to find the killer. Pinsky’s and Nate Bernstein’s congratulations seemed unreserved. Charles Reuter still looked at her with faint misgivings, as if no TV type could be trusted. A true believer, that one. She doubted that Marty Corbin would get this man to sign a release to sell that tropical garden interview tape to Inside Story, or any other TV venue. She couldn’t say she’d blame him; Reuter was the only remaining living figure on the tape—besides Louise and John Batchelder, of course.

  Finally, the group dispersed and there was only her and Tom Schoonover. As they walked outside along one of the hotel’s flowery trails, he told her what bothered him. “Here you are, Louise, with all those cuts and bruises. You’re lucky you’re here and in one piece.” He waved a hand in a general northerly direction. “And your colleague up in Wilcox Memorial Hospital—my God, Louise, he narrowly avoided being killed. Most likely he’ll bear the scars of his experience for the rest of his life.”

  “I know where you’re going with this.”

  “You do?”

  “You think we’re foolish.”

  He stopped her on the path. “Maybe a little foolish. And John much more so than you. At least you weren’t poking around near a two thousand-degree stream of hot lava; being reckless in that environment usually means death. You thought you were safe when you went out on the hotel grounds and followed Bailey, but you weren’t. Knowing as much as you did—I gather you were already suspicious of Anne Lansing—you shouldn’t have gone out alone.”

  She exhaled a big breath. “I know. I was afraid to wait, for fear we’d never find out who killed those two people.”

  Tom smiled at her with those friendly hazel eyes. “Your intentions, Louise, are only too good. And so are John’s, but I think he was imitating you, trying to outdo you, perhaps, and thus taking big chances.” He shook his head. Louise felt sorry for him: Here was a logical scientist, trying to fathom the souls of two reckless amateur detectives. “Frankly, you both suffer from, oh, I don’t know how to characterize it . . .”

  She looked at him. “I believe you’d call it hubris.”

  “But hubris connotes arrogance and I don’t believe you’re arrogant. Next time, think before you act. Now, on a lighter note, I expect the rest of the visitors will be heading out on the afternoon flight. But I heard you mention to the chief that you might stay on so you could accompany John home. Promise to call me if you decide to stay over. Henry Hilaeo and I will be happy to tour you around. Maybe you’d like to check out Kauai’s coffee industry, since you like coffee so much. Maybe hike some of the Kalalau Trail, if you’re up to it.”

  “The Kalalau Trail? I will be up to it.” It was a primeval wilderness that she never thought she’d get to see on this trip.

  When Louise returned to her hot
el room, she lay on the bed while she phoned her husband at his office in the State Department. She did a masterful job, she thought, of downplaying her adventures and emphasizing the fact that the killer was in custody. She didn’t mention her cuts and bruises; there was no need to alarm Bill, for they would be partially healed by the time she arrived home Saturday. She’d decided she would delay her departure to accompany John home when he was medically evacuated. It was the least she could do for her friend.

  Again leaving out the details, Louise assured her spouse that she’d have plenty of things to do in those few days. “More sightseeing, a little more shopping, maybe.” She didn’t mention that she might hike the most treacherous trail in the Hawaiian chain. But after twenty-two years of marriage, her husband could read her well, even over the long distance line.

  “Look, I figure you’ll be hanging out with that Schoonover guy.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Let’s just say I feel it,” said Bill. “I want you to be careful not to fall off knife-edged ridges. I also want you to be careful of something else. Remember that you’re married to me and I love you and I’m waiting for you to come home to me. Don’t think just because I didn’t come over there to be at your side that I don’t think about you, oh”—his voice was airy but with an underlying serious tone—“about once every hour.”

  “Bill, you’re a darling.” His statement was surprising. He seldom felt it necessary to proclaim his affection. But she supposed it was given in the same spirit as when she told Bill, when some attractive woman came onto him, that the interloper had better not try anything or Louise would scratch her eyes out.

  After talking to Bill, she took a moment to leave a phone message for her Post reporter friend, Charlie Hurd. “Aloha, Charlie. I’m busy right now, but I promise I’ll phone you later this afternoon with as much of the story of the murders as the police will allow me to tell.”

  And finally, since she had someone she wanted to talk to, she took a walk on the beach. Fortunately, she was dressed for it in her beach-worthy sandals and shorts. Since the surf was up, only a small crowd populated the swimming and snorkeling beach; she set off in the opposite direction. Soon, she was near the end of the hotel property and could see Shipwreck Rock looming a short distance ahead. Though it was a perfect sunny day in the tropics, Louise shuddered as she recalled what happened last night on the precipice.