Three to Get Lei'd

by Jill Marie Landis

  Counting herself lucky not to have run into anyone in the store or parking lot, which would mean another ten minutes would have been spent on talking story, she jumped back into the truck and threaded her way back through the parking lot. She turned left and passed the library and Princeville community center. Before she turned left again and started to weave her way into the bowels of the planned development, she pulled the slip of paper with Orion’s address out of her purse, determined to drive by and check out his house.

  It didn’t matter how many times she’d driven around Princeville, there were so many Loops and Drives with similar Hawaiian names that she always got turned around and had no idea where she was. Laid out around three nine hole golf courses, the resort community was lovely if you enjoyed a pristine environment. Nearly every home had a view of the lush green mountains, and some looked out over the ocean and had incredible sunset views.

  Somehow she turned onto Orion’s street, one of the Loops, and slowed as she drove past his house. The garage door was down so there was no telling if he was home or not. The landscaping was well-trimmed and tasteful, professionally laid out. His home appeared to be in pristine condition. It was painted a light sea foam green that stood out amid an ocean of beige on beige homes.

  At the corner she was deciding whether to turn left or right when she noticed the low lava rock wall street marker with a Princeville logo that bore the name of Marilyn’s street. It was on the left, so Em turned onto it and started winding around. Eventually, she came to Marilyn’s home.

  Both garage doors were down, and there was no sign of a rental car out front. She pulled into the driveway, grabbed the fruit and flowers, and headed for the front door.

  The door was painted with red enamel. Em recalled Marilyn had chosen it because according to Feng Shui, “good chi” supposedly flowed in through a red door. In an additional touch of drama, one foot high brass initials, MML, for Marilyn Marlene Lockhart, were attached to the center of the door.

  Em rang the bell and looked in the long beveled windows in the sidelights beside the front door. There was no sign of anyone inside.

  “Tom?” Em knocked on the door and called his name again.

  She tried the knob, but the door was locked. Louie and his friends in Haena were still in the habit of leaving their doors unlocked. When taking something over to a neighbor, no one thought anything of walking in and leaving it in the house. Now and again whenever a rash of burglaries broke out, depending on who was in or out of jail that week, folks tried to be more vigilant about locking up. If they could find their house keys.

  She decided to take the welcome gifts around back and leave them on the covered lanai rather than out on the sunny front steps. She headed around the side of the house, using the stone path that ran along the evenly trimmed mock orange hedge. When she reached the shaded concrete lanai, she put the flowers and fruit on an outdoor dining table. Then she walked up to one of two sets of wide glass pocket doors that, when pushed open, completely disappeared from view. She cupped her hand above her forehead and looked into the living room.

  As anyone who knew Marilyn would suspect, the inside of the house was perfect. There wasn’t so much as a throw pillow out of place. Em had only been inside once when Marilyn had invited her to dinner after the engagement was official. The house was filled with Marilyn’s art collection, colorful glass vases, and oil paintings done by artists from all over the islands.

  Em felt a twinge of sadness seeing the place exactly the way Marilyn had left it, knowing that Marilyn would not be coming back and how much all the things inside meant to her. She walked over to the next set of long, wide glass doors that opened into Marilyn’s room.

  Again, everything was just as she left it. An ivory silk dress on a padded clothes hanger, her wedding gown, was draped over a wing chair. A pair of shoes in the same ivory color were side by side on the plush carpet beneath the chair as if waiting for Marilyn to step into them.

  Em sighed and turned around to face the yard. Like the inside of the house, it was perfectly manicured. There was not an overgrown shrub or a dead leaf to mar the perfection. The house and garden were perfect if you liked living in gated, planned communities.

  Princeville reminded Em too much of the community and house she left behind in California, a place where she thought she had everything she ever wanted until she found out everything she believed about her life with Phillip had been a lie.

  She thought of all the friends who’d felt comfortable enough to show up and take over Louie’s beach house to mourn with him on Saturday morning. She pictured the cozy old place full of gently worn and lived in furniture that represented a lifetime of living. Going out and purchasing “Designer Package A” wasn’t his style. She looked around and realized it wasn’t hers anymore either.

  She checked the flowers again to make sure they were right where Tom would see them when he opened the lanai doors. When she turned around and faced the hedge directly across from the lanai, the color sea foam green caught her eye, and she realized she was looking at the back of Orville Orion’s house.

  Not only did he live directly behind Marilyn, but looking closer, Em noticed there was an opening in the hedge between the two houses. It wasn’t anything well defined, not a real gateway with a path lined with stepping stones, but it was wide enough to be obvious as an opening that connected the two yards.

  Did Orville and Marilyn use it to go back and forth? Or was Orville some kind of peeping pervert who got his kicks out of sneaking through and staring into Marilyn’s bedroom?

  Before she knew she’d taken a step, Em was already across Marilyn’s yard. She stopped at the hole in the hedge, leaned through to better see the back of Orville Orion’s house.

  “Em? Is that you?”

  25

  Bad Cop

  It was too late to duck back behind the hedge. Orville Orion was standing not four feet from the opening, staring at her.

  “Oh. Hi, Orville.”

  Em forced a smile and acted as if she popped through his hedge every day. He looked as shocked to see her as she was him. Dressed in a white golf shirt, black Bermuda shorts, and leather flip flops, he held a tumbler full of amber liquid and ice.

  Unless he’d just become a Hula Maiden, it was a little early for a cocktail.

  Behind him, a crew of at least three men were on ladders, unlatching window screens, spraying water on the glass, and wiping them down.

  “I didn’t know this was your place.” Em casually strolled through the hedge. The yard was immaculate, what there was of it. A large pool with a smaller, heated spa at one end took up most of the space. Smooth jazz music floated outside from the windows that were open to the lanai.

  “I had no idea you lived so close to Marilyn,” she said.

  Seeing him looking so very together in his pristine environment, knowing now that he and Marilyn were much closer than either of them had let on, made Em want to shake the truth out of him. She decided to ignore Roland’s warning.

  “This is pretty convenient.” She nodded at the hole in the hedge.

  “Marilyn was more than welcome to use the spa. After she would put on a big event, she’d sometimes like to come over and soak. Since I have so many social commitments, I’m not here a lot. I’m head of the homeowners association, you know.”

  “So I heard.”

  “She wasn’t one to sunbathe though. She liked to use the spa in private.”

  Of course not, Em thought. Marilyn was afraid her face would melt in the sun.

  “Do you have any plans for the memorial?” He winced on the word memorial as if it truly pained him.

  “Not yet. Her nephew Tom is due to arrive as soon as he can get a flight out of California. I stopped by to leave him some flowers.”

  “I’m sure poor Tom is really torn up about this. He was like a s
on to her.”

  Even though Marilyn had been engaged to Louie, Orville acted as if Em wouldn’t have known about Tom.

  Orville glanced at the window washers on the other side of the pool.

  “I’m glad Tom’s coming soon. Did you tell him everything?”

  Em barely knew the man, but she thought Orville seemed nervous.

  “What do you mean by everything?”

  “I heard a rumor that her car was tampered with.”

  “Really?” Had he heard or had he done the tampering? she wondered. “Where did you hear that?”

  He shrugged. “Everyone’s talking about it.”

  “Yes, I told Tom,” she said. “He was furious.”

  “Rightly so.”

  “So furious in fact, that he said he’s going to hire a private detective to get to the truth.”

  Orville paused with his drink halfway to his lips. “A private detective?”

  “He wants to find out who murdered her as much as we do. Tom promised to leave no stone unturned to find Marilyn’s killer.” Em watched him closely as she said, “I still can’t believe someone would actually kill Marilyn.”

  Orville took a drink. “Someone would have to be crazy to have done it, but we all know who’s crazy enough, don’t we?”

  Aware of the window crew, Em lowered her voice. “What are you saying?”

  “Kiki Godwin. Marilyn always said the woman had it out for her, and she was right. The poor thing had no idea how far Kiki would go, though. I can’t believe they haven’t arrested her already. And that husband of hers. He killed that young cameraman, and he’s out on bail that wouldn’t even buy a dinner around here. Justice is a travesty on this island. I was just taking a break from writing a letter to the editor of the Garden Island. It’s like the wild, wild west around here.”

  “You think Kiki did it?”

  “Everyone thinks Kiki did it. I’m sure she did it,” he said.

  Oh sure, Em thought. Save yourself and throw Kiki under the bus.

  Roland told her not to tell anyone about Marilyn’s last phone call, and she’d fully intended not to blab to anyone, but now here was Orville Orion trying to pin the murder on Kiki and take the heat off himself.

  “Everyone doesn’t know the whole story,” she shot back.

  “What whole story?”

  On Nat’s old show, CDP, the first cop to question a suspect always played the good cop. Roland had already questioned Orville about Marilyn’s one a.m. phone call and had gotten nowhere.

  Time for the bad cop to step in.

  Em took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

  She looked toward the house, paused long enough for Orville to follow her gaze, silently reminding him they were not alone. She felt safe enough with the window washers a few yards away.

  Em lowered her voice. “What everyone doesn’t know is that in the early morning hours before her wedding, you and Marilyn were exchanging phone calls. The last person she spoke to before she died was you.”

  The color drained from his face faster than Flora could suck a Gatorade bottle dry.

  “How do you . . .?”

  “How do I know? She was my uncle’s fiancée. The police recovered her phone and found her calls to and from you in the middle of the night.”

  The ice in his glass started to tinkle. She noticed his hand was shaking.

  “You called her first,” Em pushed. “So whatever you wanted must have been very important for her to call you back after one in the morning. Why is that, Mr. Orion? What did you want that couldn’t wait?”

  He took a step back. “I’ve already answered that this morning when I spoke to the detective.”

  “Then you don’t mind telling me what it was all about.” She hoped to catch him in a lie.

  “I wanted to wish her luck, that’s all.”

  She laughed. “Did he believe you? If he did, maybe you should have tried to sell him the Hanalei Bridge while you were at it.”

  “It’s the truth.” He took another step back, watching her as if she was crazier than Kiki.

  With all of the window washers there, no way would he dare touch her, so Em pressed him again. She planted her hands on her hips.

  “Come on, Mr. Orion. Do I look that stupid? You’re not dealing with some nice-guy Kauai detective here. I’m a woman. I know all about crimes of passion. My uncle is suffering over this, and I’m not going to let it go.”

  He tossed the drink in a nearby planter. “I did not kill Marilyn.”

  “I think you did. I think you wanted her all to yourself, and that’s why you tampered with her brakes. If you couldn’t have her, then you didn’t want anyone to have her, especially my uncle.”

  His suave demeanor vanished. His face was mottled red and he was sweating.

  “That’s not true. I would never kill Marilyn. I loved her. I wanted one more chance to talk her out of going through with the wedding. We were going to be togeth . . .” He stopped in midsentence, his eyes wide and startled.

  “Together?” Em finished for him. “You were going to be together? How is that possible? She was planning to marry my uncle that very morning. Her dress is still laid out and ready for the wedding. She ordered seventy-five steaks and lobsters for the reception. That doesn’t sound like she wanted to back out and be with you, Mr. Orion.”

  Suddenly he was backing away.

  “I didn’t mean it that way. We were going to be together, before she met Louie.”

  “That’s a lie. You might as well tell me the truth. Or would you rather I tell Tom what you just admitted? He’s determined to get to the bottom of this. I’d love to speed things up.”

  Orion ran a hand over his hair and glanced at his house.

  One of the men on the roof near a second floor window was watching them and called out, “You okay, Mr. O?”

  “I’m fine.” His answer sounded lackluster. He turned back to Em.

  “Okay. Okay.” He took a deep breath. “If I tell you what the call was all about, will that satisfy you?”

  What if he admitted to murder? What then? Once she was out of sight of the crew, she’d be in danger until she could get back around Marilyn’s house, into her car, and on her way home.

  He ran a hand over his sweaty forehead. “I did call Marilyn that night after the rehearsal dinner, which was a fiasco, by the way.”

  “Unforgettable.”

  “She didn’t call me back until a few minutes after one. We planned to rendezvous one more time after the rehearsal dinner. In my heart I hoped I could talk her out of going through with the wedding. I kept calling to see if she still planned to come over.”

  Em thought she heard wrong. “She was going to be with you after the rehearsal dinner?”

  He nodded yes. “She loved me, not Louie Marshall. But she was obsessed with getting her hands on the Tiki Goddess. She wanted to own that place more than anything, and it cost her her life.”

  “What?” If what he was saying was true, Kiki had been right all along. “She was willing to marry my uncle just to get her hands on the Goddess?”

  “It’s the only restaurant on that end of the island, and it has a liquor license. It’s close enough to the water that with a second story addition it would have a quite a view. She knew Louie would never renovate the place because it’s so sacred to him. She said it was filled with forty years of memories, dust, and termites. The only way she would ever see her plans finalized was to marry Louie.”

  “But my uncle would never hand it over to her.” The truth was hard to swallow. Marilyn had been marrying Louie under false pretenses.

  “Marilyn can be very persuasive,” Orion said. “She told me she had ways of making him sign the place over to her. Ways that always worked before. She was quite a savvy bus
iness woman. You know she was worth a fortune.”

  “Of course she was,” Em said. “Louie was going to be her fifth husband.” Em paused. “I have a feeling there was not going to be much persuading going on,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think she was going to marry my uncle, pretend to be the adoring wife while you waited patiently in the wings, and then once she had the deed to the Goddess, she would get rid of Uncle Louie. Just as she no doubt got rid of her first four husbands.”

  Orion blinked. “She’d never do something like that.” He didn’t sound all that certain.

  “No?” Em held up her hand and started counting off on her fingers. “She planned to cheat on her fiancé the night before her wedding. She’s been married four times. Not two or three but four, and probably inherited a fortune from each husband. You’ve practically admitted you were part of her scheme.”

  His reaction to the accusation was so immediate that Em’s gut told her he wasn’t lying.

  “I was not part of her scheme. I was just waiting in the wings, hoping she wasn’t playing me for a fool. When I begged her not to go through with it, she gave me her word she’d only stay married to Louie until she was in control of the Goddess, then she’d divorce him, and we could be together. That’s why she wasn’t selling her house.”

  “She told Louie she was holding on to her house so she could run her business out of it,” Em said.

  “We were still going to meet here whenever she came up to work.”

  “Convenient,” Em said.

  “Adultery is one thing, but I would never, ever, condone murder.” He took a deep breath, let it go, and then squared his shoulders, visibly pulling himself together. “After all, I am the president of the homeowner’s board.”

  26

  The Lillians Arrive