The Scent of Waikiki (Trouble in Paradise Book 9)

by Terry Ambrose

  Chance leaned back and slowly looked at Danny as though he were sizing him up. Danny couldn’t take his eyes off Chance. That is, until I leaned across the table and tapped his elbow. He jerked and sucked in a breath. Good, he was petrified.

  “Let me ask you again. How many bottles of the perfume do you have?”

  “I told you, I never had any.” Beads of sweat had formed on his brow. He ran his fingers through his short-cropped hair. “Joseph had the real stuff.”

  Now we were getting somewhere. Our guy had a supplier. The supplier had the real perfume, and most likely money to help Grace. He was also probably big enough in the game that the cops would pay attention, which gave us leverage.

  “Was this Joseph going to give you a bottle of the perfume?”

  “No. He just told me about it because we’ve done business before.”

  “Not a good answer,” Chance said.

  There was a hint of impatience in Chance’s voice now, and I had to admit he had this acting thing down really well. In my estimation, he was giving an Academy Award performance, which probably qualified me for Best Supporting Actor.

  “I don’t think this guy gets how much trouble he’s in.” I leaned forward on the table and held Danny’s gaze. “Have you forgotten that jab in the ribs already? Chance could do it again if you need a reminder.”

  He tensed up and stole a peek at Chance. “I didn’t forget. Joseph only told me this hot new perfume was coming. He said it was a really big deal. It gave me the idea to sell a few beauty kits.” His chin inched upward to indicate Grace. “She wanted in on the deal.”

  “And you double-crossed her,” I said.

  He ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair and grimaced. “You won’t believe me no matter what I say.”

  “Who’s this Joseph?” Chance asked.

  “We worked together a long time ago. Been friends ever since.”

  “How quaint,” I snapped.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Never mind. How often do you see Joseph?”

  “Maybe once a month or so. We keep the business relationship going.”

  I burst out laughing. It never ceased to amaze me how crooks applied legitimate business terminology to their dealings. You’d think they were members of Rotary or something. “What was your deal with Joseph?”

  “I didn’t have a deal with him.”

  “Stop lying, Danny. You already told us you did.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  What? Like two days? “This little game is getting really old. If Joseph is your boss, there’s some sort of split. What was your percentage? Was it based on what you sold the kit for or your total take?”

  He swallowed hard, glanced at Chance, and bit his lower lip. “Of what I sold the kit for.”

  “You know what happens when you lie. My friend gets angry.” I glanced at Chance, who grabbed Danny’s arm and squeezed hard.

  “Is that your final answer?” Chance asked. “Because we think it might be wrong.”

  “Okay, okay. Look, I never meant to hurt anybody.”

  “You hurt Grace. She has no money for rent, and she could get evicted thanks to you and Joseph.”

  Danny stared at Grace for a moment, his jaw hanging open a fraction. “That sucks.”

  I reached for Grace, but was too late.

  She was already up and charging around the table. Chance easily brought her under control, but in that instant Danny tried to escape. In his haste, his foot caught on the bench and he stumbled. It was just enough time for Chance to grab his T-shirt and pull him backwards. He landed hard on the grass. While I pulled Grace away, Chance leaned over Danny and put one hand on his windpipe.

  “I am so tired of you. Tell me how to contact Joseph right now or that breath you’re holding will be your last.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Once Danny started talking, the facts came out quickly. Joseph Sato worked for All Day Delivery Service, a small local outfit. The best way to reach him was through his work. And once Chance explained how he’d hunt down Danny and teach him how painful a ruptured spleen would be, we let him go in hopes of netting the bigger fish. We dropped Grace off and drove to All Day Delivery to have a conversation with Mr. Sato.

  The business was located in a small warehouse in an industrial area still filled with leftovers from World War II. I didn’t pay particular attention to the surroundings because Chance had the top down, the sun was beating on my head, and everything looked the same. Besides, Chance was driving and his phone was navigating. To be blunt, I was hot and feeling dragged out. No way did I want to be here. Right now, even doing wedding stuff was preferable to traipsing around trying to find a small-time scammer who probably wasn’t even here.

  Chance parked the Ferrari next to a chain-link fence, turned off the engine, and looked at me. “I’m sorry I dragged you along, McKenna. You’re looking beat, and you probably have things to do.”

  I leaned back in the seat, feeling baked by the afternoon sun. “I’ll get through it. Let’s go find this guy so I can get home and do something more fun—like talking to Sarah the Chaplain.”

  “Wow, you are feeling down.” He opened his door, hopped out, and bounded around the car to let me out.

  “Am I that slow?” I stood and stretched my back to relieve the discomfort that had been giving me fits since Grace tried to attack Danny. “Don’t get old, kid. It sucks.”

  He winked at me. “Maybe I need to buy a small SUV. You know, something easier for you to get in and out of.”

  “Watch it, or I’ll stop letting you drive me around.”

  The outside of the warehouse looked like it had been abandoned right after World War II. The tan paint had flaked off in spots to reveal bare metal now rusted by years of exposure to the elements. The only sign of recent human presence was the open sliding door. When we stepped inside, we were confronted by a guy who looked like he also came from World War II.

  “Halt! State your business.”

  The feisty old geezer with the gruff voice wore mirrored sunglasses, had a white beard, and a cigar hung from the left side of his mouth. With one of the worst Aloha shirts I’d seen in a long time and a pink fedora, he was going to be hard to take seriously.

  Chance approached with his hand extended. “My name is Chance Logan. This is my associate, McKenna.”

  The mirrored sunglasses looked back at us. Obviously, Geezer Guard wasn’t impressed.

  “We’d like to speak with Joseph Sato for a few minutes. If that’s possible.”

  “Permission denied.”

  Who did this guy think he was, the Supreme Commander of All Day Delivery?

  “Is he not in?” Chance asked.

  “Permission denied.”

  “You’re dealing with a flunky robot, Chance.”

  The mirrored sunglasses turned on me. The cigar wagged up and down as though he’d just bitten down hard.

  “I know his type,” I said. “Lots of gruff, all bluff.” I stared right back at him and barked, “Where’s your superior, soldier?”

  “Pops! Knock it off.” A young man with hair trimmed short and wearing a muted Aloha shirt and shorts approached. He smiled, gave us a shaka sign, and added, “Pops gets a little carried away sometimes. He’s our security force, and my dad. I’m Robert Johnson. How can I help you gentlemen?”

  “Are you the owner?” I asked.

  “We own the business together. Pops started it right after he got out of the Navy. What’s this about, anyway?”

  “They’re trouble, son. Don’t give them anything without identification.”

  Without any further prompting, Chance stepped forward and flipped open a wallet with a photo and some sort of official looking document. He flipped the wallet closed before anyone got a good look at it. The kid still wasn’t working for a full-fledged private investigator, so unless he’d purchased a fake ID, his investigator’s identification carried no more weight than a college student ID. Maybe les
s.

  The trick worked though. It appeared Robert Johnson was trying to be cooperative and Pops the Geezer wasn’t willing to admit he’d been too slow on the trigger.

  “We’d like to speak with Joseph Sato,” Chance said.

  Robert checked the time on his watch, then peered out toward the parking lot. “He should be finishing his last delivery. I’d expect him here in ten to fifteen minutes unless he gets tied up in traffic. He’s off work in a half hour. Why do you need to talk to him?”

  “We just have a few questions. It’s a private matter.”

  Chance’s BS certainly sounded official to me. It must have also sounded like officialese to Robert. Even Pops seemed satisfied and we were allowed to hang out in the shade while we waited for our man. During that time, Chance engaged himself with his phone while I scrutinized the inside of the All Day Delivery operation.

  This was definitely a small, local delivery service. There was a dispatch board on the far wall, and it appeared they had only a few employees. Everything was done by hand. There were no fancy conveyor belts or sorting systems. Their lack of growth potential had me wondering about the long-term health of the business.

  In less than fifteen minutes, an All Day Delivery truck pulled in. The driver backed the truck into a parking space, spent a couple of minutes tidying up in the cab of the truck, then walked across the parking lot.

  When the driver spotted us, he immediately went on guard. Chance stood and approached him, which seemed to put the guy even further on edge. I suspected we were dealing with someone who had run afoul of the law multiple times.

  Chance did the same thing he’d done with the Johnson boys, flashed his ID faster than you can order an ice tea. The driver’s eyes immediately zeroed in on the badge part of whatever Chance was showing off.

  “You’re Joseph Sato?” Chance asked.

  “Yah. What this about, brah?”

  “We were given your name by Danny George.”

  Joseph’s brow furrowed as he glanced back and forth between us. “I know Danny. We went school together.” Joseph began to fidget with the clipboard in his hands and beads of sweat formed on his brow.

  In less than twenty-five words I had this guy pegged. Local boy who grew up speaking Pidgin, never focused much on academics, got in trouble with the law when he was young, and never fully recovered. The tattoos on his arms added to Joseph’s rough appearance.

  “Did you spend time in prison together?” Chance asked.

  Joseph sucked in a breath. “So you ain’t no cop.”

  I had to congratulate Joseph on his powers of deduction. He knew that if Chance was a cop, he’d have already known.

  “We’re private,” Chance said with a hint of menace in his voice. “The tats gave you away.”

  Joseph grimaced and then swallowed hard. “Look, brah, I don’t want no trouble.”

  “Did you give Danny George a bottle of perfume?”

  “Do I look like the kinda guy who use that stuff?”

  Joseph chuckled as though he’d made a good joke. Chance and I just stared at him. After a few seconds, he seemed to get the message. We weren’t amused.

  Chance turned to me as though he were ignoring Joseph altogether. He asked, “McKenna, would you go tell Mr. Johnson that Joseph’s going to be missing a few days of work?”

  I winced and looked at Joseph. “Oh, I hate it when this happens.” I started to walk away, saw Pops watching us, and turned back to Chance. “How long do you think he’ll be out?”

  “Wait, brah, what kinda jurisdiction you guys got?”

  “Let’s see,” Chance said. “You’ve always been a small-time hood. You’ve got a few misdemeanors ranging from petty theft to assault. Now, you’ve stepped into the big leagues. Perjury and obstruction are just the beginning.”

  Now I knew what Chance had been doing on his phone. Nice. A little on-the-fly research. While Joseph wasn’t a good guy, he wasn’t a Honolulu drug kingpin either. He fell somewhere in the middle of that ground where crime hadn’t paid enough and he probably wanted to go straight, but couldn’t quite pull his toe out of the water. Based on the way he was working the clipboard like a set of worry beads, he might have tried, and failed, to change his life.

  “If you want to avoid all the charges,” I said. “You just need to answer a few questions.”

  Joseph grimaced and did a quick survey of the area. What was going on with him? Was he expecting a huge drug bust or something?

  “Did you steal the perfume from here?” I asked.

  It was his strongest reaction so far. “No way, brah. I didn’t steal nothing. Wait a minute—did Danny tell you I gave him a bottle of perfume? If he did, he lying.”

  “Actually, he said he got the idea from you. He said you told him about some really good stuff.”

  “That little weasel. I gonna break his arm for this one.”

  I stared at Joseph. “So you knew nothing about this beauty kit scam of his?”

  He snorted. “No way, brah. I don’t deal with all that foo-foo stuff.”

  Chance seemed to be taking in Joseph’s comment—pondering, if you will. Rather than give our source time to do his own pondering, I decided to keep asking questions until Chance came up with a few more of his own.

  I scrutinized Joseph’s face as I asked, “Then how did you hear about this hot new perfume Danny talked about. The one he supposedly sold in a beauty kit.”

  Joseph hesitated and let his eyes flick from me to Chance. Time to call BS on his delay tactic.

  I snapped my fingers. “Hey, Joseph, over here. Who told you about the perfume?”

  “A girlfriend.”

  “Be more specific.”

  “I dunno, man.” He fingered his chin, which looked like it hadn’t been shaved in three days. “I got a few of ‘em.”

  Liar. That one came through loud and clear. Joseph Sato wasn’t exactly Mr. Suave. Nor was he particularly good at making up facts on the fly. “Not good enough. Brah. We need her name.”

  “Okay, okay, don’t get so worked up. I don’t wanna get her in no trouble.”

  “Her name. Stop stalling.”

  “I dunno, brah. Annie, Angie, something like that.”

  I stared at Chance, and he at me. My throat was tight as I croaked, “Angela?”

  Joseph did a double take, then fixed me with an intense stare and grumbled, “That’s her. Angela. Nice girl.”

  “She works for the company that makes the perfume,” Chance said. “Is she a receptionist?”

  Joseph bristled and his jaw worked from side-to-side. “She the personal assistant to the big boss.”

  If she was just ‘a girlfriend,’ why was he so upset? “Did she get you a bottle of this perfume?” I asked.

  Joseph shook his head. “No way, she ain’t no thief. She only told me about it.”

  So Angela might be the leak in Skye’s company. Big deal. We still hadn’t made a solid connection to Grace’s scammer. There had to be more. Either Joseph was underselling his role, or there was another party.

  “We might have to talk to her again,” I said.

  Joseph’s mouth fell open and he licked his lips. “Wait…she didn’t do nothing wrong.”

  Oh, we had him. He knew her quite well.

  Chance stepped closer, forcing Joseph to take a small step back. He glared down and spoke slowly. “You don’t get to determine how this goes. Come on, McKenna, we have another stop to make.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Angela’s your girlfriend, isn’t she? You’re in love with her.”

  At first, I thought Joseph might not answer, but with a single glare from Chance, his moment of bravado crumbled to dust and he croaked, “We broke up last week ‘cause of some guy.”

  “Who?”

  “His name is Stephen. He one of them gay guys and is into all that girly stuff. He told her he was gonna make it big in the perfume business.”

  Chance crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “You expect us
to believe your girlfriend left you to be with a gay man? Seriously, Joseph? How stupid do you think we are?”

  “I…I…” Joseph’s shoulders slumped and he bit his lower lip. “Look, brah, this kinda embarrassing. She didn’t break up with me for him, but think of how it gonna look to my friends. I don’t want nobody finding out what happened. I got a rep to maintain, you know?”

  “Just get it over with, Joseph. Why did you two break up?” Chance asked.

  “Because I asked her to marry me. It was stupid. I shoulda known better.”

  I was tired of this guy, too. He was all over the map with his lies and his tales of woe, but Chance was barking up the wrong tree. Didn’t he see the connection? Angela knew a guy who wanted to make it big in the fragrance industry and now there was a shipment missing? Holy smokes.

  Joseph started to drift away, but I stopped him with a hand on his arm. “One last question. What’s Stephen’s last name?”

  “Stephen Brantley. You want to talk to him?”

  What a moron. Of course we did.

  CHAPTER 14

  Dinner was on Chance. Thank goodness, because the way I figured it, the total bill was going to be north of three-hundred bucks. If you added in the tip at the front door to get us the right waiter, we could change that estimate to ‘well north.’ On my budget, this one meal was going to be equivalent to about ten at one of my standard restaurants.

  The thing is, this dinner bill wouldn’t be a problem for Chance. He could easily afford the meal. And the drinks. And the appetizers. And so far, our waiter, one Stephen Brantley, himself, had become very, very attentive. From what I could tell, Stephen could smell the scent of money, and Chance was letting him revel in the aroma.

  It was obvious Stephen was a practiced hand at working the money tables. He was a handsome guy, with a little premature gray at the temples, gray eyes, and a friendly smile. He was also tall, so I could see where he’d have his pick of the ladies. He’d make an excellent con man.

  To all exterior appearances, this was a dinner of four friends. Benni and Lexie had dressed appropriately for a place like Club Mystique. In fact, when they’d heard we were coming here, Chance had asked them to drop everything and hit the spa for a full makeover. When Lexie told Chance neither of them had a thing to wear, he also had them make a trip to Saks. For all intents and purposes, this was Christmas in May for the girls and all things wedding were on hold.