And now that Marnie had been murdered, he was probably more frightened than ever that the truth about their relationship would come out.
I walked back to the car slowly, thinking hard. Marnie said he had something important to tell her the night she was killed. She had assumed he was going to ask her to marry him. But knowing that he was already married, it was at least as likely that he had planned to break up with her. Maybe his wife was getting suspicious…or maybe he was just growing tired of his duplicitous life.
At any rate, if he had broken up with her, there was no doubt Marnie wouldn’t have taken the news well. That could have led to an argument, perhaps threats that she would tell Mrs. Atwood what had been going on…
Even though the day was warm, a chill suddenly ran through me.
I now knew that Ace had an important secret. Which raised an important question: Just how far had he been willing to go to try to keep it?
“Poor kid,” Nick mused as we drove back toward the hotel. “From what you’ve told me, it sounds as if Marnie had no idea Ace was married.”
“It seems she thought being careful not to be seen with her in public was just one of Ace’s charming little idiosyncrasies,” I agreed.
The fact that Ace was married—and the important something he planned to tell Marnie the night she was murdered—made me more curious than ever about what had transpired between them Sunday night.
“Nick,” I said, “I’d like to check out the restaurant where Ace and Marnie had dinner the night she was murdered.”
“I’m with you,” he replied. “What’s the name of the restaurant?”
“I’m not sure. But I think I know how I can find out.”
“Not tonight, though,” Nick said. “We have that luau thing with Betty and Winston.”
“Right,” I replied, glancing at my watch.
I’d assumed it was getting late, since the sky was streaked with the purples and oranges of a typically gorgeous Maui sunset. But I’d forgotten that darkness falls early in the subtropics. It was actually a lot earlier than it seemed.
Which got me thinking.
“Nick,” I said thoughtfully, “we’re not meeting Betty and Winston until eight, and it’s just after six. That gives us some time to do some more poking around. Since we’re already out and all.”
“What have you got in mind?” he asked.
“There’s still one important spot I haven’t checked out yet,” I told him, “and one important person I haven’t met: Alice Feeley.”
“Let’s go for it,” he urged.
“That’s my boy,” I returned, flashing him a big grin.
According to the newspaper report, Alice had found Marnie’s body on a remote stretch of beach on Kahului Bay, west of Kanaha Beach Park. Studying my map in the fading light, I located the park right away, a few miles away on the island’s northern coast.
I hoped we’d find Alice Feeley as easily.
It was just after six twenty when Nick and I pulled into the large parking lot of Kanaha Beach Park. The park was identified by a wooden sign held in place by two concrete slabs. A thick growth of bushes and trees framed a white sand beach. It even had a rustic pavilion that, according to a sign, was the headquarters of the Lae ’ula O Kai Canoe Club.
“This park is probably beautiful during the day,” Nick commented, glancing around.
“But after nightfall, like now, it’s pretty darned spooky,” I countered.
The fact that there was no lighting didn’t help. While the three-quarter moon provided just enough light for me to make out the imposing mountains in the distance, it wasn’t bright enough to make it safe to walk without tripping over a coconut or other beach debris. As Nick and I began strolling along the beach, I flicked on the tiny flashlight I always carried on my key chain, glad I was one of those people who subscribed to the Girl Scout motto: Be prepared.
Still, when a dark shape darted in front of us, I let out a yelp.
“Relax, Jess!” Nick insisted. “It’s only a cat.”
It was too late. My heart was already pounding and adrenaline was spurting through my body at an alarming rate.
“It looks like a feral cat,” I observed, noticing with dismay how thin he was. This was one feline that didn’t have to worry about snacking too much, unlike the dogs and cats I’d been learning about in the obesity lecture I’d attended that afternoon. But I hadn’t brought along any food, so there wasn’t much I could do to help him. At least, not at the moment. I made a mental note to come back some other time with some of Moose’s booty. I hadn’t even brought a stethoscope with me on this trip, but maybe I could capture him long enough to bring him to a vet here on the island.
At the moment, however, I had more immediate concerns. I took a few deep breaths to get my blood pressure back down to normal, then continued my search.
We hadn’t walked very far along the beach before I spotted a lone figure up ahead. From where I stood, the silhouette I could just make out looked like a woman methodically scanning the sand with a hand-held metal detector and a flashlight. As we drew near, she suddenly stopped, bent over, and retrieved something. After studying it with her flashlight, she muttered something incomprehensible and tucked it away in her pocket.
Between her irregular halo of hair and her dogged search for treasure in the sand, I knew I’d found the person I was looking for.
“That’s got to be her,” I whispered to Nick. “I’m almost positive.”
“In that case, let’s hold hands.”
“Why?” I couldn’t imagine what there was about this situation that was suddenly putting Nick in an amorous mood.
“Because it will make the two of us look less intimidating,” he explained. “We’ll look like lovers out for a romantic stroll on the beach instead of two people who came here expressly to track her down.”
“Good point.” I reached over and grabbed his hand.
I waited until we had moved even closer before calling, “Alice?” in a soft, gentle voice. It was the same one I used whenever I approached a frightened animal.
She whipped around, immediately squaring her shoulders in a defensive posture. “Who’s that?” she demanded in a raspy voice that was frankly a little hard on the ears. She raised one hand and began swatting at the air, as if a swarm of invisible flies was plaguing her.
“My name is Jessie Popper,” I replied in the same soothing tone, “and this is my friend Nick Burby.” I walked toward her slowly, holding my flashlight so it faced me. That way, she could see for herself that I wasn’t a particularly threatening person. Given Richard Carrera’s description of her as “eccentric,” I didn’t know what to expect. Besides, the last thing I wanted to do was scare her off. “We were friends of Marnie Burton’s. The woman whose body you found on the beach?”
I was now close enough to get a better look at her. Alice Feeley was dressed in a long pale blue skirt, its hem decorated with embroidery and tiny mirrors. She wore a bright blue rayon shawl draped over a white tank top. Her dark red hair reached out wildly in all directions, the silver strands that were interspersed throughout glimmering in the pale moonlight.
She took a step closer and peered at me. “You’re not cops, are you?”
“No, just friends of Marnie’s.”
“Had more’n enough of cops,” she muttered, shaking her head. She looked at the sand, the sea, the sky—everywhere but at me. “Don’t like talkin’ to them at all. Bah, they always make me feel like I’m the one who did something wrong. All’s I did was have the bad luck to come across that poor dead girl. But I guess you never know what you’ll find when you’re beach-hunting. Had no choice but to call 911, even though I had enough of cops when I was young. Pigs, we used to call them in those days. ’Course, they acted like pigs, beating up on kids just because they were protesting the war, exercising their right to free speech. Nothin’ wrong with that, not in this country. ’Least there’s not supposed to be.”
She paused to take a bre
ath, and I jumped right in. “Alice, would you mind talking to us about what happened that night? The night you found Marnie’s body?”
“Well, I was just about ready to leave here. Time to go home.” She glanced around the beach. “Slim pickins tonight. Sometimes that’s just how it is.”
“Then maybe you’d be willing to talk somewhere else,” I suggested.
“We could go to a restaurant,” Nick suggested, “or anyplace else you feel comfortable.”
“Tell you what,” Alice replied in the same hoarse voice. “Come back to my house.”
“Right now?” I asked. Not only was I caught off guard by her invitation, I was also unsure of whether going home with this strange woman was a good idea, even if she did look frail enough that I probably could have taken her on even without Nick.
“Sure, why not?” Alice agreed with a little shrug. “I don’t get much company, so it’s a nice change. I’ll even drive you over, if you like.”
Frankly, I was surprised that she owned a car. From what I’d heard and seen, Alice Feeley impressed me as someone who liked to keep her life as simple as possible. “Thanks, but it probably makes more sense for us to follow you in our car. That way, you won’t have to drive us back.” And we’ll have the means to escape, if we have to, I thought.
She shrugged. “Suit yourselves.”
“What do you think?” I asked Nick as soon as we’d gotten into the Jeep and were out of earshot.
“Don’t know yet,” he replied. “She seems kind of eccentric, but that doesn’t mean anything. Still, it was a good idea for us to get to her house on our own steam, in case we need to make a quick getaway.”
Aside from the obvious dangers of getting into a car with a stranger, I was glad I’d insisted on taking my rented vehicle. Alice’s ancient, battered Ford Taurus looked as if it was likely to break down before it even got out of the parking lot. Still, after a few sputters, it ambled onto the road, with our Jeep right behind it.
We’d traveled only a mile or so before she made a left turn onto a dirt road. Only a few houses were on it, tucked behind trees and shrubs that looked as if they were purposely left untended in order to create a barrier that discouraged intruders.
Alice didn’t drive very far before pulling into a driveway. I wasn’t surprised to find that her house was small. It was actually a bungalow, a boxy one-story building with a peaked roof and a ground-level porch running along the front. Even though it was somewhat run-down, it was saved from looking shabby by the paint job that I suspected was Alice’s own handiwork. Even in the darkness, I could see the house was a bright shade of turquoise, with huge hand-painted flowers sprouting up all around in fantastic shades of purple, orange, yellow, and pink. Along the top, she had added puffy white clouds, and a colorful rainbow arched over the front door.
“Home sweet home,” she mumbled as she led Nick and me toward the front door. “You gotta make a place reflect who you are, right?”
“Definitely,” I agreed. With all sincerity, I added, “I like what you’ve done with it, Alice. It’s beautiful.”
“Bah!” she snorted. “This is my home. And your home’s gotta show people who you really are.”
As soon as she opened the door, we were confronted with a whirling dervish of activity. I quickly ascertained that the tornado of sleek dark fur belonged to a black Labrador.
“Calm yourself, Facetious!” Alice croaked. “We got company, so behave yourself!”
“Facetious?” I repeated, amused. “That’s a name I haven’t heard before.”
“I adopted her from the Maui Humane Society. Made the mistake of spoiling her rotten too,” Alice grumbled. “Now, ’course, she thinks she owns the place. Thinks she owns me.”
“It sounds like just about every dog I’ve ever met,” I said, smiling. Somehow, meeting Alice’s dog made me feel more comfortable with her. I had to remind myself that it probably wasn’t a good idea to get too comfortable.
Once Facetious calmed down, I had a chance to look around. I immediately saw that the interior of Alice’s house embodied the same spirit of creativity as the outside. The living room was painted a deep red, and the tiny kitchen at the back of the house was a sunny orange. Instead of curtains, Alice had looped lengths of sheer fabric flecked with shiny gold and silver around the windows in both rooms. Lining the windowsills were pretty shells, stones, and the occasional piece of colored beach glass. The fruits of her labors as a professional beach hunter, no doubt.
The furnishings were just as creative. The Victorian-style red velvet couch that lined one wall faced two wicker chairs, both painted with squiggles in a half dozen different colors. A huge, crude-looking drum that looked as if its roots were Polynesian served as a coffee table. Everywhere there were stacks of books, most of them tucked into corners so they wouldn’t topple over.
Eccentric? Maybe, I thought. But crazy? Not at all. Just a lot more creative than your average Joe.
Alice headed straight for the kitchen. “I got two drinks to offer you: tea and whiskey. Which one strikes your fancy?”
“Tea, please,” I replied.
“Same for me,” Nick added.
“It’s herbal,” Alice called in from the other room. “My own concoction. Hope that’s okay.”
“That’s fine,” I assured her.
“I hope she’s not going to drug us,” Nick whispered.
“Shhh,” I shot back, even though I’d been thinking the exact same thing.
“Tea for three,” I suddenly heard Alice mumble. “Much catchier than tea for two. Rhymes and everything.” I was about to smile at the quaintness of the moment when she suddenly added, “But none for you, Jack. Not after what you’ve done.”
Startled, I glanced at Nick. Here I’d thought the only ones in the house were the two of us and Alice. But it turned out there was a fourth person. Or at least it seemed that way.
“Not after you went and died on me, Jack Feeley,” Alice complained in her gravelly voice. “Leavin’ me all alone…hah! You can get your own tea, as far as I’m concerned!”
I looked over at Nick again. Not surprisingly, he had the same horrified look on his face that I suspected was on mine. So much for being a good judge of character, I thought ruefully.
We stood awkwardly in the small living room, pretending to be absorbed in watching Facetious. Fortunately, the spirited Lab was putting on quite a show, nosing a rubber ball across the room, then running after it to fetch it.
“Am I crazy,” Nick finally commented, “or is that dog playing ball all by herself?”
“I don’t think crazy is the best word to use in this house,” I replied in a near whisper.
Alice, however, had no qualms about making it part of her working vocabulary. “Is that crazy dog playing ball again?” she called out from the kitchen. “Tryin’ to get you to join her, no doubt. Or else tryin’ to make you think I don’t pay enough attention to her. Leave that silly animal and come on into the kitchen so we can talk. Facetious and I don’t get much company, and frankly, I’m too selfish to let her hog all the attention.”
Nick and I did as we were told. After we stepped into the kitchen, I took a seat at the small wooden table and he leaned against the counter on the other side of the room so he was facing me.
I watched Alice fill a battered copper kettle with water and put it on the stove, then open one of the upper cabinets. She was muttering to herself—or maybe she was simply continuing her conversation with her dead husband. Reaching between a box of granola and a package of organic wheat crackers, she took a brown bottle down from the shelf. I figured that, like Betty, she considered whiskey a natural go-with for tea, like honey and lemon.
Then she filled a good-size tumbler three-quarters of the way full.
Once she’d placed a chipped mug of tea in front of me and handed a second mug to Nick, she sat down on the other side of the table, clasping both hands around her tumbler.
“You gonna tell me your names?” she asked,
squinting at us. She looked confused, as if she’d just realized there were other people in the room.
I wasn’t about to point out that I’d already made a point of introducing us both at the beach. “I’m Jessie Popper and this is Nick Burby.”
“And you know who I am, right? ’Course you do. That’s why you came lookin’ for me. You found out it was me who discovered that poor dead girl on the beach.”
I nodded. “Richard Carrera mentioned it. He’s the editor of—”
“I know who he is,” Alice interrupted impatiently. “ ’Course I know that. I’ve been here long enough to know who all the important people on the island are.”
“How long have you lived on Maui, Alice?” I asked gently.
“Since the late eighties,” she replied in her rasping voice. I was actually starting to get used to it. “Back when real estate was still affordable. At least I managed to buy my little piece of heaven, thanks to an unexpected windfall. Lived in California before that. Got to be a bad scene, though. Bah, too crowded, too expensive, too materialistic. I was going through some messy personal stuff too, and I wanted a change of scenery. I guess I kind of ran away.
“But I realized I wanted to live a simple life, without a lot of bad stuff and bad people getting in my way,” she continued. “Living near the beach—and livin’ off the land, as much as I could—appealed to me. I got a nice big piece of land right behind the house, and I grow all kinds of things on it. Never regretted changing my lifestyle either. I like bein’ self-sufficient.”
“Nothing wrong with being independent,” I commented, making a point of not meeting Nick’s eyes.
“That’s the truth,” Alice agreed. “So you still haven’t said what all this is about. You wantin’ to talk to me about that night and all. You said you were both friends with that girl?”
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