Our new snitch swallowed hard and looked first at Chance, then me. “It’s the truth.”
Liar, liar, I thought, then wondered if we might be able to catch him in a lie. “You said you and Angela got together regularly. What did you do?”
Both of them did a double take, giving me a look that asked where I was going with the question. Stephen finally shrugged and gazed down to the right.
“Angela was a real fashionista, so sometimes we went shopping together. She liked my opinion on what she wore. We did lunch, dinner.”
“And where was her boyfriend in all this?”
“He’s not a boutique kinds of guy, if you know what I mean.”
“And you liked shopping with her,” Chance said.
“I hated it. But it made her feel good. Like I said, it was a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
I held his gaze for a few seconds, then said, “Why don’t you explain the boyfriend to me? Just so there’s no misunderstanding.”
“He’s pretty rough. She got involved with him because he’s one of those kind of guys—you know, wrong side of the tracks. He gave her the black eye when she tried to leave him. Angela fell into that abusive relationship trap. It’s like I told you, I tried to help her, but she wasn’t strong enough.”
Angela did not sound like the kind of woman who would endure a bad relationship for long. Something was off. Who had the missing shipment of perfume? Had Angela given it to her boyfriend? Or Stephen?
“First act will be over in a couple of minutes,” Stephen said. “I have to get back.”
Chance stepped in front of him, once again staring him down. “You don’t want to lie to us, Stephen. You really don’t.”
“I understand,” he stammered. “Now, can I go?”
“After you answer one last question. What’s the boyfriend’s name?”
“I thought you knew. Joseph Sato. I’d bet money he’s the one who got the shipment.”
CHAPTER 16
In a matter of seconds, the men’s restroom turned into a mini version of the Honolulu International Airport. Men burst through the doors in droves. Lines formed. We lost control of Stephen. With our meeting room gone, Chance and I decided we should return to the girls and fill them in.
I sat next to Benni, took her hands in mine, and looked straight into her eyes. “I’m sorry. That took longer than I expected.”
“This had better be good, McKenna. We were getting worried about you.” She turned the look on Chance. “And you, I thought you knew better.”
While I was taking the remorse path and attempting to assuage my guilt and Benni’s wrath in one fell swoop, Chance had chosen the show-your-enthusiasm route and was chattering on about what Stephen had told us. When Benni turned her attention away from me and began listening to his explanation, I recognized the smart choice. Sit back, shut up, and let the kid get us out of hot water.
“Wow,” Lexie said when Chance had finished. “That’s huge. And so, this guy you two talked to a few hours ago lied to you? Straight to your faces?” It was Lexie’s turn to fix me with the you’re-an-idiot stare. “And you didn’t know?”
Benni snickered and poked me in the ribs. “I thought you could read between the lines. Didn’t you say you’re the one who could smell a lie from across the room?”
My cheeks felt about as hot as one of the stage lights. I muttered, “Maybe my allergies are acting up.”
There was a long pause while all eyes rested on me. “Look,” I said. “Why am I the one taking the flak? All I’ve done is follow the leads. With him.” I pointed at Chance.
Chance started to squirm, then leaned toward Lexie and kissed her softly. She closed her eyes, let the kiss linger, and sighed when she pulled away.
“That’s cheating,” she said.
He winked at her. “I know.”
Rats. Why hadn’t I thought of that? I glanced at Benni, leaned in close, but she shook her head.
“Don’t even think about it, buddy.”
Right. Got it. Copycat kissers stayed in the doghouse.
“How about this,” I said. “We all got set up. Chance and I thought Joseph was telling us the truth. We were wrong. Tomorrow morning we can go back to All Day Delivery and Chance can beat the truth out of the guy. We’ll find out he forced his girlfriend to steal from the company, she was so upset she threw herself from her balcony in despair, and the missing shipment will be in her apartment waiting for us to find. Works for me.”
Three sets of eyes again stared at me. It was Chance who took the initiative. He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Not your best idea, McKenna.”
“Okay,” I said. “How about if we just go talk to him? Explain rationally that he misled us. And then you beat the crap out of him just on general principles.”
“Are you going to take over his delivery route when I put him in the hospital for a couple of weeks?” Chance shot back.
“Then let’s leave out the physical violence part and stick with the questions. Will that work?”
Around the table, there were nods. Thank goodness, I might have just found the door out of the doghouse.
By ten o’clock, Benni and I were both exhausted and in bed reading. As usual, she had one of those silly cat mystery books that gave her an occasional giggle, while I was slogging through a thriller I’d borrowed from the library. Every time Benni snickered, a twinge of resentment coursed through me—she was enjoying her book; I wasn’t.
I laid the book on my lap and huffed. “If this doesn’t get better in the next five pages, I’m returning it.”
Benni smirked, but continued to read for a few seconds. When she stopped, she rolled onto her side and crooked her elbow so she could prop up her head. “That’s what you said last night. And the night before. How long have you been reading it?”
I shrugged. “Um, maybe a week now.”
“And you’re on page…?”
With a groan, I opened it up, flipped to the back, and announced, “I’m about five percent done.”
“McKenna, what page are you on? Give me a number. None of this five percent BS.”
“Thirty-two,” I mumbled. Time to save my bacon, if I could. Trying to sound upbeat, I said, “But, I haven’t been reading it that long.”
“Thirty-two pages in a week.”
“There have been interruptions. And it’s a long book.”
“Really? How long?”
“What?”
“It’s a simple question. You already looked at the end. What’s the last page number?”
“Six hundred and fifty-eight.”
“So in seven nights you’ve read thirty-two out of six hundred and fifty-eight pages.” She gazed at me expectantly.
“I wanted to make it last.”
She snickered. “I think you’re accomplishing that. It’s not something you’re into, is it? Do the math. How many years will it take you to read the whole thing?”
“It won’t take years…well, maybe one.” I stared at her. “We’re not really talking about the book. Are we?”
“No, you’ve been disconnected from everything lately. Are you getting cold feet? Because if you are, you should tell me now. Every day we get closer to the wedding…” She brushed a lock of hair out of her face. Her eyes misted over and she sniffled. “I couldn’t take being stranded at the altar.”
I leaned over and kissed her, then stroked her cheek. “I would never strand you. And I’m not getting cold feet. I have been distracted, but it’s not because of the wedding. It’s Grace. How could she fall for a scam like that? And how did Angela Keating die? What’s she got to do with this? There are just way too many questions.”
There was a long moment of silence as I waited for her to respond. When she stared off into space for a few seconds, I suspected I’d said something wrong. But, what?
“Benni? What did I do?”
She sat up in bed and gazed at me. “I’ve been so stupid. I kept thinking you were upset with me, but I should ha
ve known. You can’t stand it when people get scammed. Look, McKenna, if you want to help Chance look into this thing, do it. Follow your heart. That’s the only way you’ll be happy.”
“I can’t. There’s the wedding. We’ve got a lot of…stuff…to do.”
“Just don’t get yourself killed. And show up at the ceremony.”
“You mean that?”
“Of course I do. It’s part of the reason I love you. Deep down under that grumpy skin of yours there’s a heart of gold. You need to follow it. If that means helping Grace find a way to recover from her mistake, do it. Be present for your life, McKenna. Otherwise, it will pass you by.”
I sighed, pulled the bookmark from page thirty-two, and leaned over to kiss her again. “How did I ever get so lucky?”
She winked at me. “Don’t you forget it, either. Also, don’t forget we have an appointment with Sarah the Chaplain tomorrow.”
CHAPTER 17
I texted Chance shortly after getting the green light from Benni about helping him. His response came immediately, indicating we would take off at first light so we could catch Joseph as he was arriving at work.
The following morning, we were in the car and Chance was firing up the Ferrari just as the first blue tinges of daylight appeared on the horizon. Stars still twinkled overhead, streetlights were in the final throes of their nightly ritual, and the morning light was soft and welcoming. For all those reasons, I loved mornings. But I especially loved the blue hour, those moments when night and day overlapped.
By the time we arrived at All Day Delivery, the backlit mountains were turning green as daylight took full control. The drive hadn’t been too terrible, but it was obvious many of the commuters were advancing their travel times to avoid rush hour. Hence, “rush hour” began sooner and ended later.
At six-fifteen on the dot, an old white Toyota Corolla pulled into the parking lot. With one headlight out, rust eating away at the hood, and dents everywhere, it looked like the loser in a demolition derby.
“That thing looks like it’s on its last legs,” Chance said.
“I’ve seen worse. Of course, most of those weren’t still running.” Through the open driver’s window, I saw who was behind the wheel. “It’s Geezer Guard. The car fits him.”
“Be nice, McKenna.”
“Why? He’s not.”
The beat-up Corolla parked a couple of spots away from us. The driver’s door creaked as it opened, and it looked like we were getting a repeat of yesterday’s reception as he sat in the driver’s seat glaring at us.
Obviously, the old boy was either colorblind or didn’t have a lick of fashion sense. Today, he wore the pink Panama hat, the same mirrored sunglasses, and an Aloha shirt filled with hibiscus in bright red, purple, and green. When he hoisted himself out of the car and slammed the door, I winced. Not at the way the car groaned, but at the white spindly legs, black socks, and black shoes.
“What is this guy, a model for Bad Fashion Magazine?” I asked. “He looks like an overdressed parrot.”
“I’ll remind you of that the next time you wear something bright.”
“You’re the one who likes the loud shirts, buddy.”
“It’s just a red-and-white plumeria pattern,” Chance said as he looked down at what he was wearing.
“Maybe I’ll take a picture of you two together.”
Chance mumbled something about no fashion sense as he followed my lead, but I could see the smile on his face. Benni had been right. I was a junkie—not addicted to booze, drugs, or any of the normal things, but addicted nonetheless. Nothing normal for me. My thing was setting the world right, and I hadn’t been playing my part since our trip to Maui. Wedding or not, it was about time I jumped back in the game.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot yesterday,” Chance said as he approached Geezer Guard with his hand extended. “I’m Chance Logan.”
“Heard your names,” the old guy snapped. “What do you want? We don’t open until seven. I don’t accept packages.”
“I’m McKenna.” I held out my hand, walked up to him, and stared him in the mirrored sunglasses.
His nose twitched a couple of times, then the old grump looked down and took my hand. “Steward Johnson. Persistent little bugger, aren’t you?”
“Why are you such an old grump, anyway?”
Steward paused, then his mouth curled into a smile. “Not bad. I like this guy. You, too, kid.” He shook hands with Chance. “Most people who show up here just want to complain. How come it costs so much to ship something? Why’s it going to take so long to get there?” He lowered the sunglasses to the bridge of his nose and peered over them at Chance. “Where’d you get the shirt? I like the colors.”
“Waikīkī, there’s a small shop on Kalākaua I like.”
The sunglasses went back into place and Steward nodded. “Figured you for a rich kid, but I like your style. Even if you do pay too much for your shirts.”
“We wanted to talk to Joseph again,” I said. “When’s he come in?”
Steward glanced at the old gold wristwatch he wore. The face was yellowed with age and the crystal looked scratched. “Six-thirty. He should be here any minute.” He glanced around the parking lot. “Joseph’s usually here. He brings me cheap coffee and a donut from some hole in the wall on Dillingham. Nice guy, once you get past the whole bad-boy image.”
“So you two get along well?” I asked.
“Joseph is one of those guys who looks tough on the outside, but is a big creampuff on the inside. He’ll probably be settling down soon with that girlfriend of his.”
Chance and I looked at each other, then back at Steward. “What do you know about her?” I asked.
“Never met her. Only heard her first name. He calls her Angie, but I think her name’s Angela. She works for some fancy company that makes perfume.” Steward glanced at his watch again and shrugged. “I have to open up.” He crooked his neck in the direction of the front door.
While Steward pulled a keyring from his pocket, I surveyed the parking lot. There was nobody else in sight. If Joseph didn’t hurry, he was going to be late. Steward jangled his keys and peered at them over the rims of his sunglasses. He grunted when he found the one he wanted, slipped it into the rusted padlock, and opened the hasp on the sliding door.
As we were watching Steward do his thing, I whispered to Chance. “Last night I had a feeling our waiter was only telling us part of what he knew. This feels like it’s a lot bigger than some amateur scam.”
Chance nodded, then checked the time. “If Joseph comes in at six-thirty, he should be here already.”
I sighed. Now what? “Maybe he’s late this morning.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in coincidence.”
With the sliding door open, we all entered. Steward flipped on a bank of overhead lights, then checked his watch again. “Well, poke me in the butt with a sharp stick. Joseph is never late.”
“Maybe he’s sick,” I said.
“He knows to call. Besides, Joseph never gets sick.”
“Do you have a phone number for him?” Chance asked.
Another grunt. Steward’s cheek screwed up into a grimace. He grumbled and huffed as he walked away, disappearing in a maze of gray steel shelving and brown boxes.
“You think he’s looking for a phone number?” Chance asked.
“Let’s hope so.”
Outside, two more vehicles pulled up and parked. Two men, one of whom I recognized as Robert Johnson greeted each other. Rather than coming directly into the building, both men walked over and began looking at Chance’s Ferrari.
“Better watch your car.” I chuckled. “Those guys might want to take a test drive.”
“McKenna, that happens ten times a day. I’ve learned to ignore it,” he said as he pretended not to watch.
“Then maybe you want to go stand by your car while you ignore those two. I’ll deal with the old geezer.”
Chance took one look over his shou
lder and muttered, “Yeah. Good idea.”
He headed for the little gathering out front, a bit too briskly. I called after him, “Don’t be too obvious.”
With Chance out of the way, I wondered if I might be able to get more information out of Steward. He still hadn’t returned, so I entered the maze. The shelves were about six-feet high. In the first two rows, most were filled with boxes of varying sizes. Then, it was like walking into a clearing in the middle of a forest. The shelves contained few boxes here, and through the metal skeletons, I saw the glass window of an office at the back of the building. Inside, Steward was rummaging through papers.
Standing in the open doorway, I watched him and felt a twinge of sadness. He was a dinosaur in a modern world. “Need some help?”
He looked up and grumbled, “Don’t know where Robert keeps anything. When I ran this place, everything was shipshape. Now, it’s all computers and techno-crap. What a mess.”
“Don’t you have personnel records?”
“In there.” Steward eyed a small, metal filing cabinet sitting in the corner.
“What about that keyring of yours?”
“Good idea.”
He grunted as he pulled out the ring and, once again, his cheeks contorted. Watching him was like watching someone experiencing physical discomfort. What was going on with this guy? I stepped closer and looked at the keys as he sorted through them. When he got to a small, chrome key with a circular bow, I pointed at it.
“Try that one.”
He glared at me and grumbled, “I was about to do that.”
The key worked, and thirty seconds later Steward and I found Joseph Sato’s file. It turned out Steward didn’t own a cell phone, so I told him I’d make the call. It wasn’t a terribly clever deception, but it did give me a record of the number in case Chance and I wanted to follow up later.
On the fifth ring, the call went to voicemail. I disconnected, figuring it would be better to let Joseph think it had been a telemarketer or a wrong number. “No answer,” I said.
“Not like Joseph at all.”
Out front, I heard voices approaching. Apparently, the Ferrari-appreciation meeting was over. “Sounds like Robert’s coming,” I said.
The Scent of Waikiki Page 9
