“What happened?” Gayle said, stepping far enough into the room that she could shut the door.
“I don’t know,” Sadie said, looking at the pill bottle from Dr. McKay lying empty on the floor, the pills scattered and crushed into the carpet.
“You didn’t do this?”
Sadie looked over her shoulder. “I’m a mess, but I’m not insane,” she said, offended. “Why would I do this?”
“Sorry,” Gayle said. “So, it wasn’t like this before you got locked in the, er, closet?”
Sadie shook her head, biting her tongue to keep from being defensive despite the fact that she’d reacted as though to a bombing when Gayle had honked her horn earlier.
“Who would do this?” Gayle asked.
Who would do it and who could do it felt like equally difficult questions to answer.
Sadie scanned the floor for her phone. It had been in her bag when she left. At first, she didn’t see it amid the chaos and hoped she’d put it somewhere else and just didn’t remember. Then she saw a familiar metallic red piece of plastic. She bent down and picked it up, realizing it was half of the protective cover she’d been talked into buying when she last replaced her phone. A quick scan found the other half, and then she spotted the phone itself partially under the bed, the screen broken and the keys either crushed or missing. Not far away lay the ice pick Sadie had used to help pick the storage room lock and left in the hallway, proof that whoever locked her in had also ransacked her motel room.
Sadie tried to swallow the thick lump in her throat. She knew her emotion didn’t have anything to do with the phone itself, but everything to do with someone violating her space and making such a threatening statement toward her. She turned her phone over in her hand and tried to remove the back cover. The damage to the phone had jammed the cover on, and she had to hit it against the dresser in order to get it off.
“What are you doing?” Gayle asked.
Sadie didn’t answer. Instead she removed the battery, relieved to find the SIM card still inside. She used her thumbnail to pull it out of its casing, then dropped the ruined phone back onto the floor. She held the card tightly and scanned the destruction again, wondering if there was anything salvageable. She picked up her wallet and opened it to find the card compartments empty.
A slower scan of the floor provided clues to the multicolored pieces she’d seen amid the white paper. Someone had cut up all her cards—credit, health insurance, library. She reached down and picked up a piece with part of the Colorado state seal—her driver’s license. Next to that was a green sliver of paper that Sadie feared was the last of her cash. Whoever did this had brought scissors. They were intent only on making her miserable, not profiting in any way.
“They destroyed everything,” Sadie said, looking at Gayle. “My license—my cash.” She looked at the papers strewn across the floor. “Everything.”
“Why?” Gayle said, venturing a step forward before stopping again. “What would the point be?”
“To get back at me for something. Or to make me leave.”
“You need to call the police,” Gayle said. “Whoever did this is crazy. You’re going to report it, right?”
Immediate arguments began running through Sadie’s head: calling the police would mean she’d have to explain what she was doing in Kalaheo. She couldn’t expect the police to find out who did this if she hid information. She’d have to tell them everything. It would mean giving a statement, explaining why she hadn’t reported Charlie’s appearance on her doorstep sooner. And she’d have to stop her own investigation, such as it was. She’d never find the answers to Charlie’s questions.
Charlie’s questions. She looked at the shredded papers on the floor. Like everything else she’d brought from Puhi, the list was gone. She thought of the confrontation she’d had with Jim earlier that morning. He’d predicted she wouldn’t call the police about him locking her out of her room. He’d known she wanted to figure things out on her own, and he’d been right. But that was when the fire for this mystery was still burning within her, when she thought she was making progress and feeling stronger for the efforts she was making. That strength was gone, sapped by the sticky heat of the storage room and shredded like her driver’s license and credit cards. Regardless of when it had abandoned her, the passion that had fueled her thus far was gone, and she was left with a horrible feeling of foolishness for having started something she was incapable of finishing.
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “We should call the police.”
Gayle didn’t need to be told twice, and she hurried over to the phone, picking her steps carefully as though not wanting to disrupt the debris. Sadie vaguely noted her friend picking up the phone and talking to someone while she stared at the spot where Charlie’s list had been.
I’ve failed you, she thought, feeling horrible for not being able to help him after all. His letter was now lost in the mess somewhere.
Or was it?
Sadie knelt on the floor and began sifting through bits of paper, looking for the grayish newsprint of Charlie’s list amid the bright white paper pieces that seemed so stark against the burgundy carpet.
“What are you looking for?” Gayle asked.
Sadie looked up to see that Gayle had hung up the phone, which could only mean the police were on their way. “Charlie’s list.”
Sadie recognized a slice of the photo of Charlie and Noelani that she’d printed off the computer and picked it up.
She hoped Charlie had gone to school after she’d seen him at the church. It wasn’t her problem anymore, but she kept looking for evidence of his list until someone knocked on the motel room door. Gayle hurried to answer it as Sadie got to her feet. She’d found pieces of Noelani’s obituary, Officer Wington’s card, and the map Ashley had printed out for her to find the church last night, but Charlie’s list wasn’t there. Whoever wanted to get back at her or run her off had taken Charlie’s list. Why?
“Mrs. Hoffmiller?” a male voice said. She looked up into the somewhat familiar face that instantly reconnected her to the encounter she’d had with Noelani’s body. She felt herself tense in response to the connection. Officer Wington. He smiled kindly, as though she were fragile. Maybe he was right. “Why don’t we go outside where we can talk?”
Chapter 33
Nearly three hours later, Sadie was finally able to call Pete using Gayle’s phone during the ride back to Puhi. She wasn’t sure he believed she was okay, but she did her best to convince him.
“Do you fly home from North Carolina tonight?” she asked, knowing he’d told her when he was heading back to Colorado but unable to remember.
“Tomorrow,” Pete said. “We have a banquet tonight and a final assault weapon firing range in the morning.” He paused, then asked, “How are you feeling—really?”
Sadie realized that despite a tightness in her chest, and her PTSD reaction when Gayle had honked, the panic hadn’t erupted again—even when she thought for sure it would. “I’m doing okay,” she said. “Better than I would have guessed if someone had warned me what today would be like.”
“I’m glad you’re holding up.” He paused, his voice muffled, then came back on the line. “I’m sorry, Sadie, but I’ve got to go. Can I call you after the banquet?”
“I would love that.”
They said their good-byes, and Sadie considered calling Mr. Olie, but it seemed superfluous now. The police would certainly get in touch with him about Charlie. It was out of her hands. Why did that feel . . . wrong?
“Turn right at the next road,” Sadie said, putting Gayle’s phone in the middle console.
They reached her condo a few minutes later, and Sadie locked the door three times but hoped Gayle hadn’t noticed.
“I’m exhausted,” Gayle said. “Is it always so draining? Talking to the police?”
Sadie nodded and passed Gayle on her way to the kitchen. “I’m sure flying for most of the night hasn’t helped your energy levels, either.”
Gayle shrugged. “I slept most of the way, and I felt fine when I arrived. It’s the last few hours that wore me out.”
“Well, you’re right,” Sadie said. “The police do take a lot out of you, and no matter what’s happened, I always feel like I’ve done something wrong.”
Gayle sat down on the futon with a loud exhale. “I felt that way too, and all I had to talk about was why I was here and what we saw when we opened the door. Are we done, then? Or will we have to talk to the police some more?”
“It’s up to them,” Sadie said, opening a cabinet to retrieve two glasses. She was thirsty and assumed Gayle was too. As she passed the fridge, she saw the list of goals she’d made yesterday and frowned. What did it matter now? Despite all her efforts, she’d failed Charlie. She didn’t even have his list of questions anymore. “Sometimes they need more info, and sometimes they don’t. We may never hear anything else about it.”
“So, what, once you give them what you know, you’re out of the loop?”
Sadie handed one of the glasses of ice water to Gayle. “Except I usually insert myself back into it,” she said, shrugging.
“Do you plan on doing that this time?” Gayle asked in a tone Sadie couldn’t define. She almost sounded disappointed that the potential adventure was over. Or maybe she was anxious about Sadie stepping back in. She took a sip of water, looking at Sadie over the top of the glass.
Sadie shook her head. “When I started all this it was with the promise to myself that I could get out if I needed to. And I need to. Whoever broke into my room was making a statement. I’m in no position to egg them on, and I didn’t get any information that makes a difference anyway.” It was easy to say, but felt horrible to sum up like that. She’d wasted all that time and precious energy on something useless. She went back into the kitchen in hopes of finding something to eat.
“So that Jim guy—he owns the motel?” Gayle asked.
Sadie smiled as she remembered the look on Jim’s face when he returned from the charter expedition to find his motel overrun with the Kaua’i police department. They’d conducted all the interviews on the premises and talked to every guest and employee. People not connected to the motel were standing around, trying to get a feel for what was going on. It was Jim’s worst nightmare, and Sadie had thoroughly enjoyed knowing she’d been part of that nightmare for him.
Jim wasn’t any less tyrannical with the police than he was with his employees. Watching him wave his arms around and demand things be done his way had been Sadie’s silver lining. When she and Gayle left, he was just starting to calm down. Sadie hoped she hadn’t missed the rest of the show but wasn’t about to stick around once the police dismissed them.
“He’s a piece of work,” Sadie said, shaking her head and pulling open the fridge. There wasn’t much to choose from, and she didn’t want Gayle to see the deplorable contents, so she shut it and decided to order something from the Polynesian cafe down the street. They delivered and after three months knew Sadie by name. “Did I tell you about the conversation I had with Jim this morning?”
“No,” Gayle said, laughing as she leaned back in the futon. “I’ve hardly talked to you at all.”
“Gosh, that’s sad,” Sadie said, feeling herself relax. Thank goodness. Maybe because she was home, maybe because she’d drawn a line, or maybe because Gayle was here and not mad at her even though she’d stepped into weirdness 101.
Sadie went to the phone on the wall. “I’m just going to order us some dinner, and then I’ll tell you everything.”
“Oh, good,” Gayle said, wriggling in her seat a little bit. “What are we going to eat?”
“Well, my favorite is the Lumpia—that’s like a Filipino egg roll, really yummy—and then the Spam-fried rice.”
“Spam?” Gayle wrinkled up her nose. “A restaurant serves Spam?”
Sadie laughed; she’d had a similar reaction before she’d tried it. “It’s an island,” she explained. “With limited fresh meats, Spam is all the rage around here. Konnie, one of the Blue Muumuus, told me she has at least twenty Spam recipes.”
“Are you kidding me?” Gayle said, cocking her head slightly to the side and narrowing her eyes. “You’re totally making that up. Spam is like the joke of all canned goods.”
Sadie shook her head and picked up the phone. “Welcome to the Islands,” she said, then dialed the number, excited to share some of the Hawaiian culture with Gayle and hoping it would dim the events of the morning.
Nearly an hour later, Gayle and Sadie had a feast spread out on the table. “Okay,” Gayle said, waving her chopsticks—she was totally showing off by not using a fork like Sadie was—“so, the pastor is a creep and his wife is having an affair with a tyrannical motel owner.”
Sadie had chosen the wrong moment to take a drink and began sputtering and coughing. She waved her hand through the air as though to wipe away Gayle’s words.
Gayle shrugged smugly and took another expert bite of her rice. “Is that about it?”
“No,” Sadie said, finding it hard to keep from smiling now that she knew Gayle was teasing. “I don’t know that Bets and Jim are having an affair.”
“But he knows about her marital problems, right?”
“Well, yeah.”
“And she went to him for help.”
“But why would she go to her . . . lover for help with her marriage?”
Gayle considered that. “You have a point. But why would a happily married woman go to a single man for help? Dangerous ground.”
“I agree,” Sadie said. “But—”
“And she wanted Noelani to disappear,” Gayle said. “Maybe she did it. I mean Noelani’s been gone for what, three weeks, and Bets is already trying to pawn off the next honey on the motel, right?”
“Well, she didn’t say it like that.”
“A spade is a spade.” Gayle took another bite, chewed and swallowed, then pointed at the Styrofoam container. “And this is amazing. I can’t wait to tell my mom I ate Spam; she’ll be so proud of me. She loves Spam.”
Sadie laughed and took another bite. They got sidetracked talking about Gayle’s mom, and then her kids, and then Sadie’s kids, and then someone knocked on the door.
They both went silent. Sadie tried not to notice the wave of fear that washed over her, but it was a learned response. Gayle either noticed Sadie’s hesitation, or she simply got to her feet faster, but regardless, she was halfway to the door before Sadie had overcome her hesitation and stood up from her chair.
“Oh, hello,” Gayle said before Sadie had rounded the corner from the kitchen to the living room. Sadie stopped, keeping herself hidden. The possibilities of who could be at the door narrowed substantially if Gayle knew the person. She leaned in to listen.
“Oh, hi. Is Mrs. Hoffmiller here?”
Kiki? Sadie straightened. Gayle had seen her at the motel, but they hadn’t been introduced.
“How did you know where to find her?” Gayle asked.
“I got the address from the form she filled out when she registered last night at the motel. I really need to talk to her—is she here?”
“I’m here,” Sadie said, coming around the corner and trying to look confident.
Kiki was no longer dressed in her uniform; she wore a sundress with an empire waist that emphasized her pregnant belly. Her hair was pulled up in a sloppy bun, and she had blue rubber slippahs on her tiny brown feet. “Mrs. Hoffmiller,” she said, sounding relieved. “I’m glad you’re here. I was trying to call before I realized your phone was ruined.”
Sadie ignored Gayle’s look. She’d tried to convince Sadie to go to Lihue on the way home from Kalaheo and get a new phone, but Sadie had begged off, promising she’d do it tomorrow.
“I really need to talk to you,” Kiki said again.
“Come in and sit down,” Sadie said, waving her inside. A minute later, after Sadie had made the introductions, they sat across from one another in the same configuration Sadie and Charlie had
sat in a few days earlier; Sadie in the rattan chair and Kiki on the futon. Gayle sat next to Sadie on one of the kitchen chairs.
Once settled, Sadie looked at the young woman expectantly, but felt herself tensing with increased anticipation. “Don’t you have class?”
“Yeah, I’m skipping it today,” Kiki said. “And I never skip.”
Which meant that whatever brought her here was more important than school.
“I’m really sorry about your room,” Kiki started.
Sadie felt Gayle glance at her, but she kept her focus on Kiki. “Do you know anything about that?”
Banana Split Page 22
