"Dressed like this? Why would anyone in their right mind let us in?"
Nick is already racing down the freeway toward the college. "We have to try. The man told you he had notes. It's up to us to find them."
"I don't know…it still seems like a huge risk." But Nick seems steadfast on this idea, so I'm just going to go with it. At some point, this will all be over, and I'll be home. Hopefully, without dropping DNA everywhere.
"Here." Nick tosses me a black ski cap. "Put it on. I don't want you dropping any telltale hairs."
"Why not just go with a ski mask?" I ask, even though I go ahead and put it on.
He's right. A long brown hair would certainly implicate me in a break-in—which is exactly what we're doing. If caught I'd actually be guilty.
We pull onto campus and find a parking spot next to several other cars. A huge banner announces a visiting artist concert. I can't help but wonder who it is. Then I remember that I don't care, because I don't want to be here.
"This way." We get out of the car, and Nick leads me back around the building where Alohalani's office is. The two of us cling to the walls, ducking under windows as we move. I don't see any cameras, but I'm not too surprised. Who's crazy enough to break into a community college? This girl, that's who.
"Here!" Nick whispers.
I look up. It's the window all right. I can tell by the view from where we’re standing. I'll never forget that view. Only instead of thinking about it in wonder, it'll be a bad memory. Shortly after I saw it, Alohalani appeared in the doorway with a knife sticking out of his throat.
"You're not going to believe this," Nick says. He's standing, looking into the darkened office. "The window is open."
I stand up. "What? You're joking."
Sure enough, the window is wide open. That's weird. Maybe the cops screwed up. Or maybe the dean wanted to air out the stench of death before giving it to some unlucky professor. Whatever the reason, we are going in.
Nick boosts me up, and I slip through the window, landing on the floor. He lands next to me. It's dark. Really dark. And that's when I realize I didn't think to bring a flashlight. I had all that time at home and didn't think to bring a flashlight. Nancy Drew would be appalled.
"Use the app on your cell," Nick says, and I nod so he doesn’t think I’m an idiot because that didn’t occur to me. I humbly turn on the app and am almost blinded by the beam.
"How are we going to find his notes in all of this?" I whisper as I sweep the beam around the room. There was paper everywhere—from the piles of sheet music to the books on the shelves.
Everything is here just like it was before the office owner died. I stare longingly at the shelf full of old music. The professor was going to mentor me. I was going to have access to his collection of Polynesian music. It would've been so amazing to go through those shelves.
Nick stands over the desk, shining his light down on it. "I don't know. We'll just have to look through everything." He gently sifts through the papers with his gloved hands.
My hands are starting to sweat inside the latex gloves. Okay, if he's got the desk, I'll look into the filing cabinet. I pull open the top drawer and start running through it. Student files. Names I don't recognize. There's nothing here with my name, or Kua's, or Leilani's. I close the drawer carefully and go to the next one.
More music! Each file contains yellowed sheets of music, all from Hawaii's past. I want to study them. I want to take one of his ukuleles off the wall and start playing (which I am smart enough not to do right now). What will happen to this stuff? Would it be weird of me to call and ask if I could buy it?
I shut the drawer and open the third one. This time, I find a box inside. Opening the lid, I see it is filled with photos. Could there be something in there? Very gently, I pull the box out and set it on the desk. I remove the lid. Nick looks up for a moment but then goes back to work. He's going through the desk drawers now.
The pictures seem to be pretty old. Mostly the teacher and his students. It makes me think of Julliard. I had some amazing professors there. I wish I'd taken photos. I sift through the first 20 or so pictures before coming to one of the Terrible Trio.
It had to have been taken a while ago. The three of them are standing under a banner that says, Aloha Lagoon Music Festival. We had a music festival? There hasn't been one since I've been here.
In the photo, Alohalani is standing in the middle, smiling almost imperceptibly. Leilani is on his right. Her face is twisted and mean, and her arms are folded across her chest. Her red hair is pinned up, and she looks like she just ate a cockroach.
Kua stands on the professor's left. The only one who isn't empty handed, he's cradling a baritone ukulele. Where Leilani looks disgusted, Kua's expression can only be described as arrogant. His chin is raised, and he glares at the camera.
Who took this picture? Were they surprised at the level of hostility shown by the performers? I flip the photo over, but there's nothing on the back. I put the photo back and continue going through the box.
"Anything?" Nick asks after a while.
I shake my head. "Nothing really. I've got one more drawer to go through, but nothing so far. You?"
"I'm not sure," Nick says. "Let's keep going."
As I go through the last drawer, I wonder what he means by that. Is he keeping information from me? Did he find something important? Am I just being paranoid? Maybe he just doesn't want to talk too much. It might alert someone that we are here.
The bottom drawer has nothing but files of receipts. Nothing special. A total waste. I stand and stretch, looking around the room. Alohalani's entire life is in this one room. I don't know anything about him. Was he married? Did he have children? I couldn't remember seeing a ring on his finger—but some musicians don't like playing with jewelry on. I scan the walls for personal photos—something with a woman or kids. There's nothing there.
I feel the dull pain of regret. I should've reached out and persisted in getting to know him. Instead of avoiding Alohalani, I should've tried harder to find out what he was like. Now I'll never know. My last memory of him is his face, grimacing as he died.
There are four ukuleles on the walls and two on the floor, sitting on stands. I run my finger over a beautiful soprano. No dust. He took really good care of his instruments. I drool over the pristine Lanikai koa-wood ukulele. This is a $1,000 instrument. It's so hard not to take it down and strum. He has a beautiful Kamaka pineapple uke just begging to release its mellow tones. There's a lovely Pono rosewood tenor ukulele shimmering in the moonlight. The last ukulele intrigues me. It's a cigar-box uke, and it looks like perhaps Alohalani made it.
I check out the two ukuleles on the floor. They're both vintage, from the 1930s, when ukuleles made a comeback. Not worth a lot of money but full of sentimental value to their owner, I'm sure. I lift one up automatically and once again consider playing, when I remember that I can't. We have to maintain silence, or we'll be discovered.
I'm just about to put the uke back on the stand, when I hear something rattling inside. That's odd. Why would there be anything inside the uke? Very gently, I turn the instrument upside down, and a folded piece of paper falls into my hand.
After replacing the ukulele, I start to unfold the paper. Is this garbage that somehow got tossed inside? Or was it put there on purpose? I take the paper to the desk and smooth it out. Nick sees what I'm doing and shines his flashlight on it.
It's a photo of the Overlook, where Leilani was murdered. The words are clear, as if written only yesterday. In black ink, scrawled in a masculine hand, is the word ki'i'lua.
"What is ki'i'lua?" I ask Nick.
"It means deceiver." He draws the photo closer to his face.
"This doesn't seem like it could be his notes on the murders. He must have more than this, right?" I ask. Okay—so I was expecting a well-written tome on who killed Kua and Leilani and how. A girl can dream…
Nick shrugs. "It doesn't look like notes, but it might be a clue."
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I fold up the photo exactly as it was and shove it into my pants pocket and begin going through the sheet music on the shelves. There's some really rare stuff here. I'm very careful with the old manuscripts.
That's weird… I pick up a new piece. "Ukulele Lady?" You've got to be kidding me. Among all this amazing music is this 1925 standard written by mainlanders. Why would he have this?
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the doorknob turning. We freeze. Uh-oh. We never checked the door to see if it was locked. The knob twists one way and then the other. It is locked. That's a relief.
Until the first blow shakes the door in its frame. Someone is trying to kick the door in.
Nick shoves me toward the window, and I dive through, huddling beneath the window as he lands beside me. There's a splintering roar, and I can hear someone moving around the office now. Whoever wanted in certainly got their way.
"Should we see who it is?" Nick whispers so slightly I barely hear it.
I'm paralyzed with fear. Light bursts through the window, puddling on the grass. Whoever is in there is rooting around like a wild boar. I cringe to think of those precious instruments and ancient music manuscripts being flung around like rags.
"Nani?" Nick is staring at me. Oh right, he asked me something.
I shake my head. "Too dangerous."
Nick looks up at the window. I can tell he's torn between wanting to see who is inside and running. I, however, am not. I start to creep along the wall, standing up once I clear the window. Nick does the same. We turn the corner, and Nick pulls my arm back. He points at the woods across from the window.
"We might be able to see something without being observed," he whispers in my ear.
I can't tell if I'm tingling because of his close proximity or because I'm terrified. Probably terrified. Nick has strange ideas about dates.
"Okay." I nod. The foliage is thick, and we're dressed in black. We should be able to move around unseen.
It seems to take forever for us to cross to the woods and then move very slowly so as not to disturb the foliage as we work our way to being directly across from the window. It's a ways away. But we can just make out a human shape moving around in the office.
"Can you see who it is?" I ask shakily.
Is this the murderer? The thought makes bile rise in my throat. Has he come back to get something? And if so, is that something why the Terrible Trio was murdered?
"I can't see anything," Nick says as he peers through the branches.
We watch the dark shape move back and forth in the window. Whoever it is, he’s getting angry now. A book flies through the air, hitting the wall with a crash. This is followed by a frustrated shriek. Whoever is there didn’t find what he wanted.
"Hey!" a man's voice shouts off to our right.
We shrink into the greenery. The light goes out in the office.
"Campus security!" a man shouts. He's closer now. Is he yelling at us or the guy in Alohalani's office?
A man in uniform comes running across the lawn toward the window. We see a shaft of light as the intruder opens the door and disappears. The security guard shines his flashlight through the window, then turns and runs around the side of the building.
"That was close." I shudder.
Nick puts his arm around me and pulls me against him. I welcome it. I feel a little safer now. We stay for another five minutes, then shed our gloves and hats in an attempt to appear more normal (I'm pretty sure the merchant marines costume-ball thing won't work here), and then we emerge from the woods and run for the SUV. The minute we are inside, Nick pulls out of the parking spot and drives away. I look behind to see if anyone is following us.
"I think we're in the clear," I say in a normal voice for the first time in what feels like hours.
"Are you all right?" Nick asks as we pull out onto the freeway and soon blend with all the other cars.
"I think so," I say slowly. "Yeah. I guess I am."
"That was close." Nick whistles.
I nod. "I can't believe we did that."
"When the guy was breaking down the door, I thought we were goners," Nick admits.
"Do you think it was the killer?" I wonder.
Nick nods. "It has to be. He must be looking for those notes Alohalani told you about. If you're right, and the killer was eavesdropping, then he knows that something in that office will implicate him."
"This is crazy," I say. The adrenaline is wearing off, and for some reason I start to laugh.
Nick laughs too. "That's a fact. Definitely the most dangerous thing I've ever done."
"Me too." My laughter fades. Now I feel like collapsing. I'm overcome with a fatigue that won't let up.
At least I still have that photo of the Overlook. The killer didn't get that. Not that I have any idea what it means…
"The sheet music!" I snap my fingers, which, when wearing rubber gloves, sounds like two balloons rubbing together.
"What are you talking about?"
I shrug. "It's probably nothing. But I found some music that certainly didn't belong there." I tell him about finding "Ukulele Lady."
"Do you have it? The notes might be in there," Nick asks hopefully.
"No. I dropped it the minute I heard the doorknob turning." Damn. How did I let that happen? The killer probably has it now.
"It's okay." Nick pats me on the back. "I think we should check out Leilani's house."
"What? After that? You've got to be kidding!" I protest. The last thing I want to do is go through this all over again.
"I'm not. Remember, this killer broke into your house too. Now Alohalani's office. Maybe he tossed Leilani's house too."
I shudder. "I don't think going to Leilani's will help. Besides, if the killer has already been there, we won't find anything. Not that we know what we're looking for, that is."
"Then maybe he dropped something or missed something."
I stare at him. "You're really enjoying this turn as a cat burglar, aren't you?"
Nick grins. "Come on. I know it sounds crazy, but I have a gut feeling we should look there."
"I'm not sure your gut is qualified to make a decision like that."
He shrugs. "Nevertheless, I'd like to check it out. It's not very far from here. And we know the owner isn't coming home."
Ugh. Do I really want to search a dead woman's house, just because my so-called boyfriend has a hunch? And what's next? We break into Kua's and Alohalani's houses?
"I know it sounds crazy," Nick says. "But it's just a short distance from here. It can't hurt to try."
"How do you know it's close by?"
"I looked it up," Nick says.
I look at him. It doesn't make any sense to go there. But Nick is convinced we should try. And what if he's right? What if we find something? I have no idea what that could be, but on the other hand, no one lives there, so why not?
"All right," I decide. "Let's go now before I change my mind." And then be done with it. After tonight I promise never to break into anywhere again. Nancy Drew be damned.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It takes us a few tries to find Leilani's house. The cottage isn't visible from the street, but we find a dirt road that gets us there. Tucked in behind some banyan trees, the house is hard to find. Especially in the dark.
"This is good," Nick says as he turns off the car. "No one should see us up here."
"I'm not sure 'good' is the word I'd use." Shadows move against the house. It's definitely freaking me out. But I get out of the car and quietly close the door.
The house is tiny, but that isn't too unusual. Hawaiians spend most of their time outside, so a small house isn't a big deal like it is on the mainland. Nick turns on his flashlight, and I can see the cottage is painted lime green. It's completely dark inside, which makes sense since the owner is deceased and she’d split with her roommates.
"This feels so wrong," I murmur. "Disrespectful too."
Nick whispers, "We'll give it a quick once-
over and get out. I promise."
He leads the way to the front door and tries the knob. Locked.
"You take the right side, and I'll take the left," he says. "If there's a window open, text me. If not, meet me at the back door."
I do that cartoon gulp. You know the one I'm talking about. And it's loud. But I agree. As Nick goes one way, I go the other. There are two windows on my side, and I slide a gloved hand over each one. Neither one budges. I don't hold out much hope for the back door being unlocked but proceed on anyway.
It's eerily still outside. No rustle of animals in the undergrowth nor the sound of birds in the trees. The moon that illuminated all those shadows earlier has disappeared behind some clouds. If it wasn't for Nick's flashlights, I'd be stumbling over everything.
Leilani didn't have much of a garden, but she didn't really seem like the type. If she did grow anything, I'd imagine it would be hemlock or belladonna. I slip around to the back and see Nick at the door, waiting for me. He twists the knob. It doesn't yield.
I spot a mat on the steps and yank it up. A key gleams in the flashlight beam. Nick picks it up and inserts it into the lock. We hear the telltale click. We're in business.
Once inside, I close all the curtains while Nick turns on his flashlight. We're in a tiny but very clean kitchen. The walls are citrus yellow, and the table and countertops a lime green that match the outside paint job. No dirty dishes sit in the sink—nothing to indicate it has even been used.
The kitchen is open on one side, leading into a dining room. The table is covered with sheet music, packages of replacement strings, electric tuners, and a few capos and straps. Three ukuleles hang on the wall, inside their cases. The table and chairs are simple oak. A tile floor is the only other hint of décor. We violate a strict code by not removing our shoes when we entered. No way am I leaving a pair of shoes behind if we have to run. Besides, it isn't like anyone lives here anymore. I think about that. Leilani's roommates had split with her and were living in Lihue. I wonder why they didn't come here to live with her. But then, that would be pretty far from where they work.
Ukulele Murder: A Nani Johnson Aloha Lagoon Mystery (Aloha Lagoon Mysteries Book 1) Page 14
