The Scent of Waikiki (Trouble in Paradise Book 9)

by Terry Ambrose

  “I worry about her, McKenna.”

  “So do I—worry about Benni, that is. Look, the reason Benni’s going is to sort out whether she can live with my addiction to the thrill of finding people and solving these murders. She realizes what I suppose I never did—that’s what makes me who I am.”

  “No, McKenna, that’s not why I’m leaving.”

  I spun around and stared at her. Benni stood with her feet shoulder-width apart, her arms crossed, and a tight grimace on her face.

  “What? That’s not the reason? But you said—why are you leaving then?”

  “You two are exactly alike—the two big macho men who have to go off and do battle against the bad guys while the women stay home and tend to the kitchen or…” She stopped and glared at Chance. “Or have your babies. That’s why I’m leaving, because you didn’t call me before you broke into Grace’s apartment. Because you can’t ‘burden me’ with ‘all this drama.’ And most of all, because you can’t accept the fact that I’m quite capable of deciding how much risk I’m willing to take on. You worry about me? Don’t you think I worry about you, too?”

  I’d never seen such fire in her eyes or heard such determination in her voice. I glanced at Chance, but he also looked like someone had tossed a grenade into the room.

  “Tell me we’re going to share our lives—that means the good as well as the bad—and I’ll have no reason to leave. What’s it going to be, McKenna? Do you want me to stay? Or go?”

  CHAPTER 34

  I held Benni’s gaze for only a second, then glanced away. This was not what I’d expected. Not what I thought she’d said.

  “You think I’m macho?” I asked.

  She let out a long slow breath and shook her head. “That’s all you heard?”

  “No,” I countered. “That was my defense mechanism kicking in—again. What I heard was I’ve been an idiot. So, let’s try another do-over.” I dropped to one knee on the tile. Looked up into her eyes. Took her hand. “Benni Kapono, will you marry me and become my partner in everything I do?” I swallowed hard. “Even in my rehabilitation from confirmed old-fart bachelor with everything to lose to happily married man who shares his every thought with his loving wife?”

  Thank goodness, she smiled. “That might be a bit much.”

  “That’s the most pathetic proposal I’ve ever heard,” Chance said.

  Benni pursed her lips and nodded at him. “It is.”

  “Are you going to answer me? My knee is killing me. This tile is brutal.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I will still marry you. Now get up before you do some serious damage.”

  “I think I’ve already done that. Can you help me up?”

  She rolled her eyes and leaned over. I kissed her on the lips and she pulled back, a look of shock on her face.

  I winked at her, smiled, and stood. “Gotcha.”

  “Just for that, I might make you propose again.”

  “Oh, dear God, no. I may need a kneecap replacement thanks to that tile.”

  “You’ll live,” Benni said. “Now, I have a bag to unpack. I guess I’m staying.”

  I grabbed her hand and shook my head. “You have a story to listen to first. After that, we have to figure out a strategy.”

  Chance ran through the Steward news again. This time, adding a few details he’d left out in his rushed explanation earlier. Apparently, the reason Steward wanted to talk to me was because he felt hurt by my betrayal. According to Chance’s rendition of Emily’s rendition of Steward’s account of our parting, we’d been ‘hot on the trail of a killer’ when I’d pulled the plug.

  Perhaps this was just my year to disappoint people.

  When Chance finished, I looked at Benni. “Any ideas what I should do, partner?”

  She shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. “Go see him, of course. Just don’t propose.”

  “Right. No more proposals.” My mouth went dry with worry. “What if Steward gets hostile? Maybe he wants to shoot me?” I looked at Chance. “Does he have a gun?”

  “Emily didn’t say. I should go in with you. Just in case.”

  “For what? So you can kung fu him to death? No, kid. This is strictly on me. Steward thought I betrayed him before; maybe I can close the loop on that and get him home safely.”

  Chance and I ended up driving to the Honolulu Sands while Benni volunteered to stay home. Given what we’d just gone through, I would have gladly brought her along, but she seemed eager to stay behind. When I asked why, she said she needed to talk to Lexie.

  Our actual travel time was only eight minutes, but it took the same amount of time to find parking. When we exited the elevator on the second floor, Chance said he’d stay nearby “just in case.” Obviously, I was hoping to not find out what that meant.

  As I approached Emily’s condo, I noticed two pairs of slippahs outside the front door. One pair was larger and without decoration; I assumed those to be Steward’s. The other was pink with plastic white daisies. I was pretty sure I’d seen them at an ABC Store more than once.

  I stood outside the door, took a deep breath, and knocked on the screen. “It’s McKenna! I’m here at the request of Steward Johnson.”

  “I’m coming. Hold on, just a minute.” An old woman tottered toward the front entrance. “No need to yell, Mr. McKenna. There’s no deaf people living here.”

  She pushed the screen door open with a lily-white hand dotted by age spots. Her fingers shook as she backed away and gave me a kindly smile. “Remove your slippahs, please.”

  “Of course.” I stepped to one side, slipped them off, and looked down two doors to where Chance stood.

  He gave me an encouraging smile. In response, I scrunched up my right cheek and sneered at him. He didn’t deserve it, but at least it relieved some of my pent-up anxiety. Emily stood to one side holding the screen door open as I entered. She did not seem pleased with my dawdling, nor did it appear she realized I had reinforcements.

  “Step along. Go right into the living room, Mr. McKenna.”

  I took two steps and waited for her. “Just call me McKenna, please.”

  “And you can call me Emily.” She took my arm and pulled me into her living room, which was small and decorated in a garage-sale-chic style. “You already know Steward. Sit, sit, while I get you something to drink. Can’t have a meeting without refreshments. Do you take your tea straight, McKenna? Or would you like a little pick-me-up?”

  “Just plain tea, please.” I looked at Steward, who sat in an ancient leather recliner that looked like a refugee from the sixties. A towel covered the seat, which probably concealed a crack or worse in the upholstery. “Steward, long time no see.”

  “Where’s your reinforcements?” Steward snapped.

  “Now, now, Steward, there’s no need for unpleasantries,” Emily called out from the kitchen.

  I seated myself on one end of a worn, flowered couch with whitewashed rattan framing, a style that went out over a decade ago. There was a matching coffee table in front of the couch. It had a glass top and had been set for serving.

  “You are quite the hostess, Emily,” I said. I ignored the slant of Steward’s eyes along with his sneer beneath the white beard and mustache and said, “Be nice. You arranged this party.”

  “Because you weren’t doing your job.”

  “Which is?”

  “To find out why my driver is working for subversives.”

  Before I could respond, Emily placed a dainty napkin on my lap and smoothed it out. She stood, gazed down at the napkin, and nodded. “Good,” she said firmly. Then, she shoved a delicate china cup and saucer decorated with pink flowers in my hands. I felt like I was six and receiving my first lesson in tea-party etiquette.

  I muttered an embarrassed thank you before turning back to Steward.

  “Emily likes things just so. Don’t you, Emily?”

  “I most certainly do, Steward.” She gave him a closed-lip smile and then turned it on me. “Now, McKenna, you must try these
chocolate chip cookies Steward brought. They are simply divine.”

  I stared at the tray. Where most people saw yum, I saw danger. My Celiac antennae were vibrating in overtime at the thought of the reaction I would have. “Are they gluten-free?”

  “Are you one of those namby-pambies who blame their finicky eating on some cockamamie disease?”

  “Steward,” Emily scolded. “I have a grandson who has Celiac and he doesn’t like cookies either. If McKenna doesn’t want one, that’s his prerogative.”

  While Steward’s jaw twitched from side-to-side, Emily, apparently pleased with herself for having averted a cookie crisis, reached out and plucked one from the tray. She nibbled while I looked down at my tea. Personally, as long as I didn’t become violently ill from someone force-feeding me a chocolate chip poison pill, I was good with that.

  I set my cup and saucer on the coffee table in front of me and gazed at Steward. “What’s the deal with your driver?”

  “I told you. He’s working for subversives. Carrying unauthorized packages.”

  “What makes you so sure that’s what’s going on?” I countered.

  “Need to know.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  Emily sat on the couch next to Steward. She let herself down very slowly and had her eyes open wide. Even her cookie nibbling was on temporary hold. “Need to know what, Steward?”

  “It’s a need-to-know basis, Emily. Can’t just trust anybody.” Steward skewered me with a sideways glance. “Especially those who have double-crossed you.”

  “I’m sorry about how things turned out. But, you were having flashbacks. You thought we were behind enemy lines. Surely you remember that?”

  “I remember you calling for reinforcements because you were running scared.” He paused and his brow knitted. “You gonna blame that on your see-lee-ack, too?”

  My pulse ticked up a notch at the dig, but I kept my cool and ignored it. “I can leave right now if you’re not going to trust me.”

  “Now boys.” Emily made a clucking noise like a mother hen for a few seconds before she added, “Whenever my children became unruly I made them tell the other one something they liked about them.”

  “How many children did you have, Emily?” I asked.

  “Four.” She smiled at me. “Two boys and two girls.”

  “That must have taken a while,” Steward grumbled.

  I winked at him. “All day, I’d say.”

  “That’s what I liked about you, McKenna. You got attitude.”

  “You’re no slouch in that department either, Steward.”

  Emily sat up straight, her smile showing how pleased she was with herself. “See how it works? Now, who would like more tea?”

  I glanced down at my full cup, which reminded me of looking into a swamp. Taking a deep breath, I picked up the cup and took a sip. Jeez. The stuff tasted like rat poison. “It’s a very interesting tea, Emily. What is it?”

  “Isn’t it delightful? It’s my own special blend. I like a little extra kick in mine, so it’s a mixture of Japanese milk tea and coffee. My late husband and I came across it when we traveled to Hong Kong. Unfortunately, I’m out of milk today, so it is a tad strong.”

  “Just a tad,” I said.

  Steward, the picture of a comical mismatch of oversized fingers clasping the handle of a dainty cup, sneered at me. “Drink up, McKenna. It’ll put hair on your chest.”

  Emily’s mouth opened in surprise. “Oh goodness, is it that strong?”

  Steward turned a charming smile on her and winked. “It’s fine, Emily.”

  “Yah. Excellent tea,” I said, then choked down a small sip. This stuff was like an acid bath. Celiac disease or not, I was about ready to poison myself with one of those cookies to get rid of the taste. “So, Steward, we’re back to what this is all about. I don’t think you came here for tea or just to clear the air with me.”

  “Oh, no, he did not.”

  Emily’s voice practically trilled with excitement as she leaned forward and placed her cup and saucer on a lacy doily atop the coffee table. I took the opportunity to mirror her interest by placing my cup of tea poison on the doily next to hers.

  “He came here because of the argument I overheard between that nice young Angela and her nasty boyfriend.”

  I did a double take, shooting a quick glance at Steward, but then returned my interest to Emily. “You overheard her argue with her boyfriend? Is this Joseph?”

  “Oh, I don’t know his name…wait. You said Joseph? Yes, perhaps that was his name. I do think she called him that once. Anyway, how could I miss it? They were going at it like cats and dogs right out there on the lānai.”

  “And what was the argument about?” I asked, ignoring Steward, who was squirming like he was four and had ants in his pants.

  “It was about the perfume she stole from work, of course.”

  “Whoa, back up, Emily. How do you know she stole perfume from work?”

  “Because Steward told me about it.” She glanced sideways at Steward, her lips pursed into a display of disapproval. “Whatever were you thinking, Steward? How do you expect McKenna to help you if you don’t tell him these things? When my boys were growing up, I never let them keep secrets from each other. My goodness, I can’t imagine what that would have been like. Now, are you going to tell him or am I?”

  Steward grumbled, “Sorry, Emily.”

  He squirmed a bit more, which caused her look of disapproval to grow. “Why, whatever is wrong with you?”

  “I don’t know. I’m going to need to use your bathroom.”

  “Well, you know where it is. What are you waiting for?”

  He set down his cup and rushed off. Moments later, a door slammed and Emily shook her head. “I have no idea what my daughter ever saw in that man.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked. “Your daughter knew Steward? Who’s your daughter?”

  “I had two girls—Claire and Ruth. Claire and Steward were quite involved for some time. Then Claire said she found her true love and broke up with Steward.”

  “Steward and Claire were involved romantically? Claire led me to believe they were just friends.”

  “That’s Claire. She’s in denial. My daughter never could deal well with men. It’s exactly the same thing that happened with Angela. I do believe she was breaking up with Joseph that night and that’s when he pushed her off the balcony.”

  “Did you see him do this?”

  “Well, not exactly,” Emily said, then placed one finger over her lips and gazed up to the ceiling. “Of course, it is possible it was the other boyfriend, because he was here that night, too.”

  In the background I heard the sounds of a toilet flushing a couple of times. I shot a glance at the table, then at Emily. My mouth hung open, and I was unsure of what to say.

  Emily clucked a few times, then winced. “Oh goodness, you’re not looking well, either. I do hope I didn’t make the tea too strong.”

  CHAPTER 35

  I couldn’t take my eyes off that stupid cup. Three sips, that’s all I’d had. Steward, on the other hand—dry. There was nothing left in his cup except the dregs of whatever rat poison Emily had fed us.

  “How much tea did Steward have?” I asked.

  “I do believe he was on his third cup. He seemed quite taken with it.” She paused at the sound of another flush. “Oh dear. Do you suppose he’s taken ill?”

  I winked at Emily. “He’ll be fine.” At least I knew where Steward was. He wouldn’t be making any escape plans for a while. “Emily, you said there was another man who visited Angela on Tuesday night.”

  “Her other boyfriend, yes.”

  “How do you know he was her boyfriend?”

  “Well, they would sit out there some nights and have long discussions.” She screwed up her face and gazed at the ceiling again. “Wait, maybe that was Joseph.” She raised her index finger and let it waver between two imaginary points in space. “I’m not sure now. But he was quite
the dandy. Very nice hair. Not like yours at all.”

  I was not about to let this conversation veer off track again. “Was his name Stephen?”

  Emily’s eyes widened and her mouth opened in surprise. “Oh, heavens. You are a good little detective. Steward said you were quite efficient.”

  Stephen Brantley. And he may have been here the night Angela was killed. How interesting. “The nice boyfriend and Angela, were they having a pleasant discussion?”

  “Heavens, no. It was a very invigorating evening.”

  I stared at her, suddenly wondering how much she’d heard or seen. “Did you see one of these men push Angela off the balcony?”

  “No, no. What kind of busybody do you think I am?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  Emily’s back straightened and she picked up her cup. She took one sip, frowned, and said, “It is a tad strong, isn’t it?”

  “The tea is fine, Emily. So you only heard parts of Angela’s conversations the night she died?”

  “Yes. It’s hard to not overhear when someone is right next door.”

  “And that’s why you didn’t go out on your lānai, because you would have been seen?”

  “Yes, yes. You are very good at your job. But actually, I did go out there once. I had plants to water and they were making quite a racket.” She glanced toward the bedroom. “Do you suppose I should check on Steward? He may need some assistance.”

  I chuckled. “I’m sure everything is coming out just fine.”

  Emily, of course, didn’t get the joke. She was busy letting her attention bounce between me and her bedroom door. When I cleared my throat, she gazed at me with raised eyebrows.

  “What about across the alley?” I asked and pointed out her slider toward the giant condo complex about thirty feet away. “Would anyone over there have seen anything?”

  Emily scrunched up her mouth into another of her disapproving facial expressions. “Oh, him.”

  “Him?”

  She set down her cup and stood, then walked to the slider. I followed. When I was next to her she pointed at a unit one floor higher than our location. From what I could tell, someone in that unit would have a clear view of Angela’s condo.