by Al Boudreau
“Richard, close and lock the doors leading out to the lanai. Andrew, take all of our phones, silence the ringers, and bury them under the pillows on my bed.” I grabbed the GPS tracker, locked it inside the safe, and returned to the living room to find my trusty team standing side by side, confusion written all over their faces. I grabbed my keycard, along with the bag of breakfast food. “Follow me.”
We marched down the hall and out the main entrance of the tower. As we navigated the poolside pathway, bound for the beach, I throttled back my stride. I was definitely on a mission, but didn’t want it to look that way.
I swung the gate open that separated the grounds of Ko Ahiku from the beachfront common area, and the three of us left the property. We continued on along the waterfront jogging path for several minutes until we found a shady area with some empty benches. I sat down and forced myself to take a few bites of a lukewarm breakfast sandwich.
“Kaholo is really getting on my nerves,” I said as I looked at Andrew. “This isn’t the first time we’ve caught him snooping around, so here’s what we’re going to do. Richard, I want you and Andrew to take an early lunch at whatever station Kaholo is working today. Get him talking. See what you can ferret out, but more importantly, keep a close eye on him while I verify the cashier’s check we got from Mrs. Odell.” I took my wallet out and handed Richard three $50 bills. “Honolulu PD approved funds for our involvement, so Sergeant Kehoe gave us the go-ahead to assist in the investigation. I’m happy to announce lunch is on the department today.”
“Not a bad first assignment, eh Andrew?” Richard asked as he slapped Andrew on the shoulder.
Andrew smiled. “Works for me.”
“Remember, keep the subject matter with Kaholo low-key. We don’t want to offer up any information that might give this guy an edge, especially if he’s working with our imposter. And keep conversation inside our suite to a minimum. That goes for out on the lanai, too. Let’s just assume they have the entire place bugged.”
“When are you taking off?” Richard asked.
“Right now,” I said as I stood up and headed back to the room to grab my burner phone, the cashier’s check, and the paperwork for the rental car. I began running scenarios in my head as I walked away. What if the check ends up being legitimate? And if so, what reason would Odell’s wife have for swapping all that cash for a real check? Was she on the level after all? Maybe she didn’t even know about that bogus text sent to Richard. Maybe she was getting played just like the rest of us.
I got back to the suite, gathered up everything I needed, then took another look at the check. I recognized the issuing bank’s logo as the same symbol I’d seen on a building complex alongside the highway, no more than 5 miles away.
I made my way toward the elevator while checking my new phone for messages. I’d hoped to see a call or text from Sarah, but there was nothing. I knew it was too soon to be looking for news about the fingerprints, but I was anxious. The unknowns were eating me up inside, with solid clues concerning this case as scarce as an honest politician.
I knew I shouldn’t be feeling such low morale so early in a case, but after living through the ordeal of almost losing Sarah recently, I found myself questioning feelings I’d normally have brushed off. No doubt my level of confidence had taken a hit. It made me wonder if I’d jumped back into the PI game too soon. I certainly could have done better work getting all the facts together before flying all the way to Hawaii. Lesson learned.
I slid behind the wheel, pulled the door shut, and tossed the paperwork onto the passenger seat. I needed to stop beating myself up over my failure to vet out Odell before agreeing to get involved with the case. It was nothing but counter-productive.
I closed my eyes and sat perfectly still, the silence in the depths of the parking garage almost eerie. But it allowed me to think. It was time to stop dwelling on what we didn’t know and throw a laser-like focus on what we did know. And finding out if this cashier’s check was the real deal would be a step forward in making real progress on the case.
My eyes shot open as someone’s car alarm began blaring its dot-dash pattern of obnoxiousness throughout the garage, the concrete surfaces reverberating the ruckus to a maddening level. I looked around to see which vehicle the noise was coming from, but saw no tell-tale lights flashing to the beat.
I started the rental and made my way out of the echo chamber. If we’d been lured to Hawaii for reasons other than to find Amber Odell, I needed to figure out what they were. And soon.
I rolled the car windows down as I climbed the ramp leading to sunny skies and warm tropical air. It was a perfect day on the island, weather-wise. Seemed like a good reason to be thankful, so I made a conscious decision to look at it that way. Yeah, maybe we were mired in confusion and misinformation at the moment. But I was in Hawaii. Palm trees everywhere you look, the Pacific Ocean the most amazing shade of blue imaginable.
My attitude adjustment decision made the miles roll by quickly, the bank building I was bound for now in sight. I maneuvered to the right and took the exit for Kapolei, the mid-morning traffic heavy but manageable. I didn’t know much about the area, but it appeared as though Kapolei was growing. The building housing Bank of Oahu looked to be fresh, with a slew of new construction going on all around it.
I snagged a parking spot right up front and within a minute I was talking to a young female Hawaiian bank teller.
“Aloha, sir, how may I help today?”
“Uh, aloha. I have a cashier’s check a client gave me,” I said and slid the document over the counter to her. “Is there any way to tell which branch it was purchased from, and who the employee was that issued it?”
“Is there a problem with the check?” she asked.
“Not that I know of,” I replied.
It wasn’t exactly a lie.
The teller gave me an odd look, then began typing while scrutinizing the check. Every second that ticked by seemed to raise my blood pressure another notch. She was taking too much time. It had to be a fake.
Finally, she spoke. “Actually, the check originated from this branch, but the teller who issued it is off today. Do you have an account with us here at Bank of Oahu?”
“I don’t, but if it’s OK, I’d like to cash the check,” I said.
She nodded and looked at the check again. “Certainly. Are you … Carter Peterson?”
“Yes.” I handed her my New Hampshire driver’s license.
“Would you prefer this in cash, a pre-paid debit card, or a combination of the two?”
“Hmm, good question,” I replied, not expecting I’d be leaving the bank with any money at all. “Could we do four thousand in cash, and ten thousand on a debit card?”
“Certainly. How would you like the cash?”
“I’d prefer all twenties. Is that possible?”
“Not a problem. I’ll just have to get an approval from my manager. Be right back.”
Guess my positive outlook was working. We were getting paid.
And I was more confused than ever about the case.
“Sorry for the wait,” the teller said as she returned. “Here’s your debit card with the ten thousand on it, and I took the liberty of putting one thousand in each of these four envelopes for you. Our automated bill counter tallied the funds, but I’d be happy to physically count it out in front of you if you’d like.”
“No, that’s not necessary. I trust you. And the counting machine.”
The teller laughed. “Will there be anything else today, Mr. Peterson?” she asked.
“No, you’ve exceeded my expectations.” By about $14,000.
“Mahalo, Mr. Peterson. Have a wonderful day.”
“I already am.”
Chapter 15
I returned to our suite at Ko Ahiku, but Richard and Andrew weren’t there. My hope was that they’d located Kaholo, and were busy coaxing information out of him.
I peeled three hundred in twenty-dollar bills off one of the thousan
d-dollar stacks, then tucked the rest of the cash away in the suite’s safe. Technically, we didn’t have a contract for this case. However, considering the strange circumstances surrounding this job, I was comfortable with using the verbal agreement and Mrs. Odell’s handshake as our binder for now. I pulled out my notebook and wrote myself a reminder to talk to Kehoe about hooking me up with the provisional PI’s license he’d mentioned. Now that I knew we were getting paid, I needed to make our case legit.
The rental car info was sent, and the cashier’s check confirmed and cashed, so my short to-do list was done. I was restless. Getting paid had given me quite a buzz, but I didn’t want to wander around the property for fear I’d bump into Kaholo and undo whatever progress my team might be making.
I opened the doors leading out to the lanai, took out my phone, and dialed Sarah instead.
“Funny you should call now,” Sarah said as she answered. “I’m at Bridgeport PD with Detective James. The still photos and prints for the guy you labelled Odell imposter are coming up empty. But get this … the other prints, the ones you labelled Kaholo, are in the system, but we don’t have access to them.”
I stood up and walked across the lawn, away from the building. “Wait. Are you saying they’re classified?”
“Yes. The inquiry is throwing a top secret flag, which James said could signify one of several scenarios.”
“Yep. Kaholo could be a federal informant, or working undercover for one of several government agencies,” I said.
“James mentioned he’d be willing to petition the chief for us. You know, in order to gain access. But I told him I didn’t want to waste any markers, seeing James is doing this as a favor and all.”
“No, no, right. I also gave the prints to Honolulu PD, so they may see fit to take it up the chain and push for more info. Tell James I said thanks. Good work, Sarah. How’s the shoulder,” I asked.
“Honestly, it feels much better. I can’t believe how well it’s healing.”
“Happy to hear it. Getting back to the case, if you find out anything new, give me a call,” I said.
“You got it. Be safe, and give my brother a big hug for me.”
I ended the call, stood up, and began pacing back and forth across the lawn. Part of me felt relieved Kaholo was likely one of the good guys. One less criminal I needed to worry about. But there was also a downside. If he was some sort of agent, he definitely wasn’t about to share any evidence with us.
I placed a call to Sergeant Kehoe, using his direct line. It rang and rang until I was convinced he was away from his desk. I was about to end the call when I heard a click.
“Kehoe.”
“Oh, hey, Sergeant. Carter Peterson here. I’ve got an update concerning one of the two sets of prints I gave you.”
“Uh-huh. Probably concerning the Kaholo prints, am I right?”
“That’s correct,” I said.
“And you hit a roadblock.”
“Yep.”
“Word came down a couple minutes ago,” Kehoe said. “I was told, in no uncertain terms, that we’re to steer clear of this individual and his op. That’s all they’d give me.”
“Just so I understand, are we to assume his op involves the same individual we’ve been dealing with?”
“You’ve got the gist,” Kehoe replied.
I thought about the big picture for a few seconds. “Okay, Sergeant, let me run this by you. I want to get your take on my present situation. Bear in mind that what I’m about to tell you took place, unbeknownst to me, while I was in your office last night. Ellis Odell’s wife Terri paid one of my men a visit at our Ko Ahiku suite, and dropped off a cashier’s check in exchange for the backpack full of cash I told you about.”
“Any idea if the check is legit?” Kehoe asked.
“It is,” I replied. “So, technically, Mrs. Odell has hired us to locate her missing daughter, Amber.”
“Well, guess I’d better get busy working on getting you that provisional licensure we discussed,” Kehoe said.
“I’m assuming it works the same here as it does back in New England. Basically, I’d be getting hired by another private investigative agency, and working under their license and supervision, right?”
“That’s right,” Kehoe replied. “Carter, sit tight while I make a few calls. Let me see what I can do.”
* * *
I’d been reviewing my notes for forty minutes or so, thinking over all that had happened since I’d arrived on the island, when my phone rang. It was Sergeant Kehoe. “Good news, Carter. I contacted a friend who works for a local PI agency. Asked if he’d be willing to speak with his boss about you working under him for just this one case. His boss checked you out and gave the go-ahead, as a personal favor to me. The paperwork for your provisional license is being filed as we speak. I’ll need you to sign some documents, of course, but they’re no more than a formality at this point. So, go ahead. Search for the girl. Just watch your step. If you get in Kaholo’s way—at all—from this point forward, I won’t be able to help you.”
“Understood,” I replied. “Thank you, Sergeant. I get the feeling we’re becoming fast friends.”
“By the way, I made a call to LAPD,” Kehoe said. “No missing person’s report was ever filed on an Amber Odell in California. Nothing here in Hawaii, either.”
“Thanks, Sergeant.”
“Keep in touch,” Kehoe said and ended the call.
I was relieved that Kehoe had given us his blessing to stay on the case. We just needed to get creative in order to avoid running afoul of what was likely a federal investigation.
I dialed Richard immediately.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?”
“We’re on our way to the room,” Richard replied.
I dumped the call, keeping my fingers crossed that my crack investigative team hadn’t inadvertently sealed our fate.
The door clicked open, with Richard first to enter, blissfully immersed in some old war story about one of his epic investigative adventures. I couldn’t tell if Andrew was enjoying the tale, or simply being polite. Either way, it was good to see the two of them getting along.
I motioned for Richard to take his voice down several notches and follow me out to the lawn. “Did you two have any kind of conversation with Kaholo?” I asked, half-holding my breath for the answer.
“Didn’t have a chance,” Richard replied as Andrew caught up with us. “He was behind the bar when we walked into the restaurant, but on his cell phone the entire time. I’m pretty sure he made several different calls. He bailed after about twenty minutes of non-stop jabbering. We never saw him again after that.”
I let go a huge sigh of relief. “Good.”
“Good? Really? I thought you’d be wildly irritated,” Richard said.
I shot him a filthy look, though I probably had the jab coming to me. “Turns out Kaholo’s prints are classified. We’ve been told by Honolulu PD to steer clear of him and his operation.”
“Feds?” Richard asked.
“Probably.”
“Does that mean we’re done here?” Andrew asked.
I shook my head. “No missing persons reports were ever filed concerning Amber Odell, but there’s no way we can be one-hundred percent sure Terri Odell is crooked and taking part in our imposter’s deal. Mrs. Odell asked us to find Amber. Therefore, we’re still going to look for the girl. Fortunately, the cashier’s check she gave us was legit, so we got paid.”
“I knew it!” Richard shouted.
“Mind keeping your victory cry down a bit? We’re not the only ones here,” I said, pointing up at the balconies.
“Sorry, Carter. The good news has me feeling energized, that’s all.”
“Yeah, okay. Take some of that energy and grab your cell phone out of the bedroom. I want to listen to that recording of our meeting with Mrs. Odell.”
Richard plodded off, grumbling the whole time. I looked at Andrew, noticing his ear-to-ear grin. He was g
etting to know Richard well.
“What’s on your mind?” Andrew asked. “Did Mrs. Odell drop some kind of clue during your meeting?”
“That’s just it. I’m not sure,” I said. “But now that we know the cashier’s check she gave us is valid, I’m back on the fence as to whether she’s innocent or guilty.”
“I must be missing something,” Andrew said. “Mrs. Odell wouldn’t have known to bring the cashier’s check and exchange it for the cash unless she had a connection with fake Odell, right?”
“Right,” I said. “But be careful. There’s a big difference between connection and guilt. One is based on clues. The other based on proof.”
Andrew thought about what I said for a few seconds before a smile came over his face. “I see what you’re saying. In other words, fake Odell could conceivably have had her over a barrel. Maybe threatening to hurt her daughter if Mrs. Odell didn’t do what he asked.”
“Correct. Point is, we can never make assumptions,” I said. “We always need proof. That being said, it can’t hurt to listen to the recording. Never know what we might discover.”
Richard came back and handed me his phone. The three of us listened as Terri Odell spoke. About halfway through, I heard her say something that caught my ear. I rewound the recording and replayed the section. I’m sorry. Ellis was … is … a good man, at the core. But he lost his way some time ago. “Did you two catch that?” I asked. Andrew and Richard looked at one another with blank stares. I rewound it again. Ellis was … is … a good man, at the core.
“Got it,” Andrew said. “This meeting took place after the accident out front. You’re thinking she slipped up and knows her husband is dead. Which would mean she’s in on the scam.”
I nodded. “See, Richard, I told you this guy was sharp.” Richard grabbed his phone out of my hand and headed inside.
“Did I say or do something to offend him?” Andrew asked.
“Nah. Richard’s just a little bitter these days,” I said. “He’s having a tough time with his personal life. Nothing at all to do with you. Just his bruised ego rearing its ugly head.”
