by Kathi Daley
“Should we meet again?” Thomas asked.
“I don’t see why not,” Dad agreed. “How about we meet for a beer at around four?”
All three men were available. It was sad that these once very busy men had nothing better to do than get together for lunch or a drink three days in a row. Retirement, it seemed, might not be all it was cracked up to be.
I called Kekoa, who was fine with working with Darlene if she agreed. Woodson called her and arranged for us and only us to meet her at her home at five that afternoon. That was the time I’d told Luke to call, which meant I’d need to leave another message, suggesting we talk tomorrow morning. This long-distance-relationship thing was for the birds.
Chapter 8
Craig Newton was a harried-looking man in his midforties who made it clear the moment we walked into his tenth-floor office in Honolulu that we had fifteen minutes to ask whatever questions we had and not a minute more. Although the day was hot and humid, Craig wore a long-sleeved white shirt with black dress pants. A black jacket that matched the pants hung on a hook near the door. Although he’d instructed Dad to meet him in his office, I hadn’t expected him to be working on a Sunday.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us,” Dad said, diving right in. “As I mentioned on the phone, the remains of both Clifford and Anastasia Cramer were found earlier in the week, which is why we’re taking a second look at both cases.”
“You interviewed me five years ago when Cliff jumped from the bluff. You suspected he’d killed Anastasia and died himself from the fall. Are you telling me that wasn’t what happened?”
“Given new information, it appears there may have been more going on than we initially believed. When I spoke to you back then you told me you and Mr. Cramer had been friends for a number of years as well as worked together on several occasions.”
“That’s correct.”
“Were you working together at the time of the incident on the bluff?”
“No, we weren’t. Cliff wanted me to partner with him on a project he’d gotten involved in, but I declined. My unwillingness to invest in that project put a strain on our relationship. It had been more than four months since I’d seen or even spoken to Cliff at the time of his leap into the ocean.”
“What can you tell me about the project he wanted you to invest in?”
I watched as Mr. Newton glanced at his watch, as if to determine how much of our fifteen minutes we still had left. He must have been satisfied we had enough time because he said, “Cliff was a gambler. While it’s true that to survive as a developer you need to possess at least a bit of a gambling spirit, he was careless at times. The last project Cliff pitched to me was a condominium on one of the privately owned islands in the area. He insisted his business partner, a man he introduced to me as Skip Sellers, had a contract with the owner of the island to develop the land. I looked at the plans, but they seemed incomplete. I was also unable to confirm the existence of the contract Cliff assured me he had. I had a bad feeling about things, so I told him I was going to pass. He wasn’t happy with my decision and tried on several occasions to change my mind, but eventually, I guess he realized my mind was made up because he stopped coming around. I later heard that when he couldn’t find an investor he borrowed the money from a hard money lender.”
“Do you know who he borrowed the money from?” Dad asked.
“Not for certain, but given the amount of money he was trying to raise, I imagine he borrowed it from a man named Akiyama. He has a reputation for having a lot of money to lend. He also has a reputation for collecting on his loans one way or another.”
“Akiyama sounds like a Japanese name. Is he of Japanese descent?” I asked.
“Interestingly enough, no. He’s very much Caucasian. It’s my understanding his mother married a wealthy Japanese businessman when he was a boy. At some point he must have taken his stepfather’s name.”
“Can you tell me what he looks like?” Dad asked,
“Tall, thin, dark hair.”
“Does he have a gold tooth?” I asked.
“Yes, he does. Do you know him?”
I shook my head. “Someone else we spoke to told us Anastasia Cramer had a visitor who was described as a tall, thin man with a gold tooth just before she disappeared.”
Craig chuckled. “Figures Cliff would try to use Akiyama’s perversions to buy himself some time if he wasn’t able to pay off his loan as agreed.”
“Do you think Akiyama could have kidnapped Mrs. Cramer if her husband promised him his wife’s favors in exchange for leniency?” Dad asked.
Craig shrugged. “He might have if he knew Cliff didn’t have the money he was owed and if Anastasia refused to make good on an offer put forth by her husband.”
I glanced at Dad. He nodded. We needed to take a closer look at Akiyama.
After we left Newton’s office Dad drove me back to his house to pick up my car. He was heading to the hospital to visit Jason and I needed to go to the condo to meet Kekoa before we went to see Darlene Porter. On the way Dad and I had listed several people we needed to take a closer look at: Akiyama for one, Skip Sellers for another, and, of course, Fritz Meyers. I still wasn’t sure whether Roxanne Bronwyn’s death was related to whatever had happened to the Cramers or if it was a really strange coincidence that she was shot and killed the same week the Cramers had turned up missing.
******
“Have you been able to talk to Jason yet?” Kekoa asked as we drove to the address provided by Darlene Porter.
“Not yet. So far, the only visitors allowed have been Alana and my parents, but Dad was going to get an update when he visited this afternoon to let me know.”
“Have your brothers all left?”
“Jeff and Jimmy went home yesterday, but John’s still staying at my parents’. I know he’s working with Justin on a few ideas the two of them came up with.”
“Any chance they’d share their ideas with you?”
I shook my head. “The fact that they’re being secretive doesn’t bother me. I’ve been excluded from their projects and schemes my entire life. But I think Dad is really hurt that they’ve shut him out. And I’m not sure why they have. I know there was a discussion about Dad getting older, and that they didn’t want to put him in a dangerous situation, but in my opinion that’s total malarkey. Maybe they’re just afraid Dad will take over and start bossing them around. I don’t know for sure what’s going on, but the unwillingness of the J team to include Dad has opened the door for me to work with him, and I’m having the best time.”
Kekoa rolled the window down a crack before she responded. “I know you’ve always wished your dad spent time with you the way he did with your brothers and I’m glad you’re finally getting your chance. And it seems like you work really well together. Maybe this experience will be just the beginning of your working together. Oh, it looks like you need to make a left in about a half mile.”
I slowed down just a bit as I watched for the crossroad. I didn’t respond to Kekoa’s comment until I made the turn. “I’m not sure how Dad feels about our partnership, but I’d welcome the opportunity to work with him again. Of course, if things go as I hope I’ll be selected for the next class at the academy and it won’t be too long before I’m a member of the HPD. I guess then I’ll have to give up my sleuthing on the side.”
“And how are you going to feel about that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Once you’re hired by HPD you’ll have a job, but you won’t be a detective. You may see some action on the street, but when the detective in charge shows up you’ll be back on patrol and he’ll take it from there. Are you going to be content with doing the job you’re handed while others carry out the investigations? Even if you’re stuck handing out speeding tickets while someone else solves the murder you might have stumbled on while out on patrol?”
I had to admit I hadn’t looked at things in quite that way, but Kekoa was right. Once I was on the HPD my han
ds would be tied. They wouldn’t take kindly to a street cop getting mixed up in ongoing investigations. Not that they were thrilled when I did it now, but I didn’t work for them, so they couldn’t fire me.
“I wonder how long it will take for me to make detective. I mean, that’s what I really want to do.”
“I don’t know how things work,” Kekoa said, “but it won’t happen right away. I’m really happy it looks like you’re finally getting the chance you’ve always dreamed of, but you need to go into it with your eyes open. You’re headstrong and you like to do things your own way. Ignoring the orders you’re given because you don’t agree with them is never going to fly once you’re officially a member of the HPD.”
“You’re making a good point I hadn’t thought through. I guess I’ll need to do that before I commit to the academy.” I glanced at Kekoa. “Do you think the reason Jason said he’d recommend me for the next class is because he thought my being a cop was the only way to keep me out of his way?”
Kekoa chuckled. “I think it’s a good possibility that controlling your tendency to conduct your own investigations was the real motive behind Jason’s sudden support of your dream.”
Now that I thought about it, Jason had as much as said exactly that when we spoke. I’d been so happy to hear the news that I hadn’t stopped to think about the message behind his words.
“It’s that yellow house on the right,” Kekoa said.
I slowed down, pulled over, and parked on the street. Darlene Porter lived in a small home, but it was in a nice neighborhood and from the outside it looked as if she kept the place in immaculate condition. The yellow siding was trimmed in white and the yellow vine roses that climbed a trellis near the entry gave the house a welcoming feel. Kekoa picked up her sketchpad and I grabbed my notepad before we headed to the covered porch leading to the front door.
“You must be Lani and Kekoa,” a pretty young woman with long dark hair and bright green eyes said after opening the door.
“We are,” I confirmed. “Thank you for agreeing to see us.”
“And neither of you are cops?”
“No, we aren’t,” I confirmed.
“And if I agree to help with the drawing that’ll be the end of it? I don’t want this visit to be followed up with one from anyone in uniform insisting I get involved.”
“The only people who even know Kekoa and I are here are my father and his friends, and we all agreed that if you helped us with the sketch we’d provide it to HPD as coming from an anonymous source.”
Darlene looked Kekoa and me up and down for at least a minute before she finally stepped aside and let us in. Her daughter must have been elsewhere because it appeared we were alone in the house. Darlene showed us to a kitchen table where Kekoa could work and then began to describe the man she saw in extremely good detail. I remembered she’d been through the process once before and apparently remembered the drill.
“Would you say his cheeks were thinner or fuller than what I have here?” Kekoa asked.
“Thinner. And the eyes were closer together.” Darlene paused to looked at the drawing again. “The brows should be thicker and the nose a bit longer.”
I watched as Kekoa made the corrections. “How about now?” she asked.
“The chin should be narrower and better defined and the eyes should be dark, almost black. Yeah, I think you have it now. That’s the man I saw entering the Cramer home that day.”
“And that was the last time you saw Anastasia Cramer?” I confirmed.
“Yes. I heard she was missing a couple of days later. And after that I heard it was believed Mr. Cramer killed her, then jumped to his death.”
“Did Mrs. Cramer refer to this man in any way?” I asked. “A name or a nickname?”
Darlene shook her head. “No. When she answered the door she said Mr. Cramer wasn’t home. The man said he was there to see her, not her husband. I could tell Mrs. Cramer was uncomfortable with him, but she let him in and showed me out, even though I hesitated a moment, trying to decide if something bad was going on. At the time, I convinced myself this guy was just one of her men. She had a lot. But when I heard she was missing, I felt bad and realized maybe I should have told someone what I’d seen. The thing is, I have a daughter to think about, and the man looked like the kind you shouldn’t make angry.”
When we left Darlene Porter’s house I called my dad to let him know I had the drawing. He was still at the hospital, so I said I’d drop it by his house. I asked if Jason remembered who had shot him and he said he hadn’t, but he was going to be moved out of ICU that evening and would be allowed to have visitors if I wanted to go by to see him in the morning.
“Do you want to grab some dinner after I drop off this drawing?” I asked Kekoa.
“I could eat. Cam’s playing poker tonight, so I’m totally free. In fact, I was going to offer to come over to help you with the decorations for the party.”
“I got a good start, but there’s more to do,” I said. “How about we pick up some takeout and head to Luke’s? We can eat, then tackle the patio. He has colored lights for the pool and patio area he’s strung from the pergola. I thought we could add to the theme and try for a spooky yet enchanted feel.”
“Sounds good to me,” Kekoa said. “Does it still sound as if he won’t make it back in time to attend?”
“Unfortunately, at this point it isn’t looking good. I understand why he needs to be in Texas, but I miss him. I just wish he could find a way to come home.”
“I’m sure he’s missing you too, but that doesn’t make it any easier. How about we stop by the condo and I’ll grab a bottle of wine to go with our takeout?”
“Sounds like the best suggestion I’ve heard all day.”
Chapter 9
Monday, October 30
I woke the next morning with a groan. Although it had been Kekoa’s idea to have wine with our takeout, she’d only had one tiny glass, leaving the rest for me to finish off. I should have known too much wine would give me a headache. I wasn’t a huge drinker, so it didn’t take much to go to my head.
I grabbed an aspirin and a shower and took the dogs out for a walk. It was a beautiful day, somewhat on the cool side, which I very much enjoyed at this time of the year. I didn’t have enough energy for a long walk, so I sat down on a rock under a large shade tree and called Luke while the dogs romped in the pasture nearest the house.
“Hello,” a woman answered.
I frowned and looked at my phone. Had I called the wrong number?
“Is anyone there?” she asked.
“I’m sorry. I think I may have the wrong number. I was looking for Luke Austin.”
“This is Luke’s phone,” the woman informed me. “Luke’s in the shower right now. Can I take a message?”
“Uh, no. That’s fine. I’ll just try him later.”
“Okay. Y’all have a good day now.”
I hung up, took a deep breath, and began conversing with myself.
“Okay, Lani, don’t freak out. Yes, a woman answered Luke’s phone, but he has a mother and two sisters. It was probably one of them.”
“Yes, he does have a mother and two sisters, but you’ve met all three of them, and chances are if the woman who answered his phone were his mother or a sister they would have realized you were the caller and said something. Besides, she didn’t sound at all like any of the women who came to the island two summers ago.”
“Then perhaps it was the maid. The Austin family is well off. They probably have a maid.”
I decided to go with that explanation, even though I didn’t believe it for a minute. I knew Luke loved me and I had no reason to make myself crazy by doubting that, so I’d just forget about the call and think of something else. I unlocked my phone once more and called my dad.
“Hey, Dad. What time did you want to get together today?”
“I was just going to call you, Lani. There have been some new developments, but I don’t want to discuss them on the ph
one. Mom and I are just heading out to visit Jason. Can you come by the house at around eleven?”
“Yeah. No problem. I’ll see you then.”
I clicked off my phone after looking at the time. It was only nine. Kekoa and I had finished the decorating the night before and if I sat around for two hours I’d make myself miserable wondering about the woman who’d answered Luke’s phone, so I called the dogs to me and headed back to the house. It would take about twenty minutes to drive to my parents’ from Luke’s ranch and I still needed to feed and water the dogs, which left me about an hour of free time. Just enough time, I decided, to check out a hunch and pay another visit to Roxanne Bronwyn’s husband, Phillip Orson. Thinking back over the conversation Dad and I’d had with him two days before, it had occurred to me there were questions—important questions—we hadn’t gotten to but really needed to be asked.
As before, I didn’t call ahead, and he was home and seemed willing to talk to me. In fact, he seemed a lot more relaxed now that it was just me interviewing him than he’d been when my dad was with me. I supposed I understood that if my dad had considered him a suspect at the time of Ms. Bronwyn’s death.
“So how can I help you, sweetheart?” he asked when we were seated at a table near his pool.
I hated it when people I didn’t know called me sweetheart but decided to let it go in the interest of gaining the man’s cooperation. “I’ve thought about things a bit since we spoke the other day and realized I had some additional questions. I hope you don’t mind.”
“If that means I can spend the morning with a pretty young thing like you I’m happy to answer any questions you have.”
“Good. I appreciate that.” I tried to sit up straighter to look taller, but when you’re five foot nothing it’s hard to look tall no matter what you do. “I’ve been thinking about Fritz Meyers. The timing of his being on the island in relation to Ms. Bronwyn’s death seems suspect to me.”
