Besides, I had more immediate problems to think about—like how I was ever going to wash off all the sweat and grime and red dirt that coated every square inch of my body. I was so focused on what would be required to feel like a normal human being that I even forgot we had a houseguest.
I remembered as soon as we stepped into our room and found Moose standing right inside the door, mewing at us crossly.
“You poor pussycat!” I cooed, crouching down and scooping him into my arms. It felt wonderful to hold his warm, furry body, but it also made me miss my own menagerie terribly. “I’m so sorry, Moosie-pie. We didn’t mean to leave you alone for such a long time.”
“Is he okay?” Nick asked.
“He’s fine. Just hungry. And maybe a little lonely.” Stroking Moose’s silky black fur, I added, “I’ve got to find him a home. He doesn’t belong in a hotel room. Besides, we’ll only be here for a few more days. There must be somebody on this island who’d be willing to make Moose part of their family.”
“You’ll think of something,” Nick said. “Maybe you can call a local vet and ask if—hey, look. The light on our phone is blinking. Somebody called.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed and dialed the code required to retrieve messages. He listened, frowning, then grabbed the pen and pad sitting on the night table and scribbled something down.
“It was Rob Kourvis,” he informed me after he hung up, “one of the newspaper editors I tried to contact on Thursday. I left my cell number and the hotel number on his voice mail. Yesterday he called me back at this number.”
“What did he say?” I asked anxiously.
“That he’d be happy to talk to me about Bryce Bolt,” Nick replied. He hesitated before adding, “It seems he’s got plenty to tell me. In fact, he left me his home number.”
Before I had a chance to comment, Nick began punching numbers into the phone. “He’s on the West Coast,” he told me as he waited for someone to answer. “It’s a bit early for a Saturday morning, but—”
He held up his hand to indicate that he was listening. After a few seconds, he said, “Hi, Mr. Kourvis. It’s Nick Burby. Thanks for returning my call. I’ll try you again later today. In the meantime, I’ll leave my phone numbers again…”
After he hung up, he looked at me expectantly. “Now what?”
“A hot shower,” I replied. “And once I feel like a human being again, I’d like to pay another visit to Ace Atwood.”
Nick’s eyebrows shot up. “What for? To tell him you found out he and Marnie had a big fight a few hours before she turned up dead?”
“Actually, that’s not what I’m curious about. There’s something else Ace mentioned that’s been nagging at me. He’s about to make a career change. I want to find out if the corporate ladder he’s about to climb has an FT on it.”
Nick frowned. “Wait a minute. You think Ace might have ties to FloraTech?”
“It’s just a theory,” I told him. “And even if he does, it still might not mean anything. But I intend to find out.”
With that, I headed into the bathroom to make that shower I’d been fantasizing about a reality.
As I walked into Ace’s plastic surgery establishment, I saw that his operation was in full swing. I had to admit that his team of Auto Artists seemed to do good work. At least, if the gleaming Mercedes, Toyotas, and Saabs scattered around the shop, with their perfect paint jobs and not a scratch or a dent or a ding anywhere in sight, were any indication. Surrounded by all that machinery, I had to wonder if his interest in metal and motors extended to helicopters.
I spotted Ace in his office, talking on the phone. He was wearing the same tight T-shirt as last time, and his hair looked just as perfect. I slunk over, then stood behind a stack of cans of something called “body filler” so I could eavesdrop.
“Listen, it’s gonna be fine,” he was insisting. “Can’t you trust me on anything? Hey, I know it’s a big change, but I’m somebody who knows a golden opportunity when it comes knockin’ at my door….”
I got the feeling he was talking about the very subject I’d come all the way over here to discuss: his impending career change. And while I had no idea who he was talking to, I suspected that whoever it was had the same impression of Ace Atwood I did—that he wasn’t someone who worked well with others.
But he’d told me himself he was looking forward to the predictability of a nine-to-five job. And given what a small world this was turning out to be—or, more accurately, what a small world Marnie Burton’s world was turning out to be—I was pretty sure I already knew whose time clock he’d soon be punching.
“You again,” Ace greeted me crossly as he hung up the phone and I emerged from the shadows. His mouth twisted into a scowl, and his brilliant blue eyes had a guarded look.
“This time I’m here on business,” I told him, refusing to be intimidated by his clear dislike for anyone who had any ties to his philandering past. “I noticed some scratches on my car. Since it’s a rental and all, I wanted to get an idea of what it would cost to fix before I return it, so they don’t scam me.” I couldn’t resist adding, “You know how those car rental companies are.”
He snorted to show how strongly he agreed. “Tell me about it.” As he strutted toward my Jeep, he added, “I did some work for one of ’em once. A place called Makai Rentals. I did the work, but then, when it was time to collect, they had all these sob stories about their insurance and their suppliers. In the end, they stiffed me.”
Like Ace, I recognized a golden opportunity when I saw one. “I guess that kind of experience is what made you decide to get a regular nine-to-five job.”
He glanced over at me so quickly I wondered if he’d given himself a case of whiplash. “Who told you about that?” he demanded, his left eye giving a telltale twitch.
“You did,” I said, plastering on the most innocent expression I could manage.
“Oh, yeah. Now I remember.” Still looking doubtful, he added, “I’m tellin’ you, I’m not sorry I’m gonna be giving all this up soon.”
I decided to take a chance. “And I’ve heard FloraTech is really great to work for.”
“That’s what they say.” As soon as he said the words, he looked over at me, his expression shocked. “Hey, how did you know—”
“You mentioned that last time,” I said quickly. “That you were going to work for them, I mean.”
“Yeah? I don’t remember sayin’ anything about them.”
I gave a little shrug. “How else would I know?” Before he had a chance to respond, I added, “From what I understand, FloraTech coming to this island is the best thing that’s ever happened to Maui.”
“Hey, they got great benefits. Medical and life insurance and all that. Frankly, that’s all I care about.” He hesitated before sticking his chin a little higher in the air and adding, “I just found out my wife is having a kid.”
The announcement this proud father-to-be had just made caught me entirely off guard. Even so, the wheels immediately began turning in my head.
Thanks to what Nick and I had learned about the argument Ace and Marnie had a few hours before she was killed, Ace had already moved higher on my list of suspects. But throw in his wife’s announcement that she was pregnant and the stakes suddenly got even higher.
Especially since Marnie had threatened to tell Mrs. Atwood all about their affair just a few hours before her body washed up on a beach.
It was such a likely scenario, one that was practically a cliché, that I found myself wondering if I’d been wasting my time by putting so much effort into trying to find out about FloraTech. I fixed my eyes on Ace’s, trying to see inside him. Even though I lacked the sixth sense I so desperately wished I had, I couldn’t help thinking that I might have been foolish to let myself get so distracted. Detective Paleka was probably right that Marnie had been murdered by the man she was seen with at the bar. As Marnie’s boyfriend, Ace was the most obvious suspect.
The more I learned about
him, the clearer it seemed.
Still, I couldn’t just ignore the fact that FloraTech had resurfaced once again, this time as Ace Atwood’s soon-to-be employer and financial savior. The company popped up everywhere I went. Even though the answer to the question of who had killed Marnie and why might have been staring right at me—literally—I couldn’t let go of the idea that it was no coincidence that so many of the strands from Marnie’s life were connected to the biotech firm.
“Congratulations,” I said. “On the baby and all.”
“Thanks,” he muttered. He seemed to have already lost interest in that particular topic of conversation. “So where are these scratches?” he asked, scanning the side of my Jeep.
“Uh, right there. Under the mud…?”
Frowning, he brushed at the streaks of dried mud with his sleeve. “I don’t see anything.”
“Gee, you’re right.” I did my best to sound surprised. Thinking quickly, I added, “I guess that guy was just teasing me.”
“What guy?” he asked suspiciously.
“The guy at the gas station. The one who, uh, filled my gas tank. He’s the one who told me the door was all scratched up. Or maybe the mud made it look that way.”
He looked at me as if I was so dense that I was destined to spend my entire life being the butt of blonde jokes. And my hair color is close enough to brown that it barely puts me into the blonde category.
But I didn’t care. Not only had I gotten confirmation that Ace was one more person in Marnie’s circle who had ties to FloraTech, I’d also learned he was on the verge of becoming a daddy, another solid reason for him to suddenly feel his paramour was a liability.
As I drove away from Ace’s Auto Artists, my mind drifted back to the problem that had confronted me earlier that day. Moose needed a home. And he needed it sooner rather than later. I ran through the list of people I’d met on Maui, trying to decide if any of them was a possibility.
Ace Atwood, Holly Gruen, Richard Carrera, Bryce Bolt, Alice Feeley…Considering the fact that most of them are suspects in Marnie Burton’s murder, I thought grimly, they’re hardly candidates for adopting her cat.
Then, in a sudden flash of inspiration, I thought of someone else, somebody whose character I’d never considered the least bit questionable.
I pulled into the first parking lot I spotted and dialed information. Not surprisingly, it turned out there were several listings for Nelson on Maui. I jotted them down, figuring I’d try them all until I located Karen.
When I punched in the first one, it rang a dozen times without anyone answering. I moved on to the next number on my list. As soon as I heard a pleasant “Hello?” I knew I’d found her.
“Hi, Karen,” I began. “This is Jessie Popper. We met a few days ago at the Dispatch office. You gave me Holly Gruen’s phone number, remember?”
“Of course I remember,” she replied. With a little laugh, she added, “Seems to me I also gave you a lot of advice. All of it completely unsolicited, as I recall.”
“It was very helpful,” I assured her. “But I’m calling about something else entirely. I’m trying to find a home for Marnie’s cat. His name is Moose, and he’s very sweet. I wondered if you might be willing to take him.”
“Sure, why not? I’ve already got a cat, so adding a second simply means putting out another food bowl. Why don’t you bring him over this afternoon? Grab a pen and I’ll give you my address….”
“Yes!” I cried after I’d hung up the phone. Not only had I found a home for Marnie’s cat; he was about to be adopted by someone I felt really good about.
At least there’s one thing I’ve managed to resolve, I thought, pulling back onto the road and heading toward the hotel. But my sense of accomplishment lasted only a few seconds. After all, finding a place for Moose to live was small potatoes compared to the enormous questions about his former owner that, at the moment, I didn’t feel even close to answering.
This time, as I unlocked the door of my hotel room, I was prepared to find Moose waiting for me. However, I didn’t expect to find Nick. But he was sitting on the lanai, talking on his cell phone.
From his tone of voice, it sounded serious.
“I see,” I heard him say as I slid open the glass door to join him. “Okay, thanks for being so straight with me, Mr. Kourvis—I mean Rob…. Yes, I realize that, but you’ve still been extremely helpful.”
“Anything interesting?” I asked as soon as he ended his call.
“Definitely in the ‘interesting’ category,” he replied. “I just spoke to Bryce Bolt’s former boss at the San Diego Times. Just as he promised, he had a lot to tell me.”
“What did he say?”
Nick frowned. “Apparently the reason Bryce left his last job wasn’t that he was dying to live in paradise. He was fired for journalistic fraud.”
My jaw dropped to the floor.
“It seems our buddy Bryce won quite a bit of acclaim for a series he wrote on sex offenders who were released into the community after serving time,” he continued. “It sparked a lot of debate and he was quite the media star for a while. Then it came out that he had fabricated almost all of it.”
“He made stuff up?” I asked, incredulous. “In a newspaper?”
“In a very fine newspaper, in fact,” Nick replied. “One of the most highly regarded newspapers in the country. Bryce used fake names for the sex offenders and the members of the community he wrote about, he made up quotes—he even made up most of the incidents he wrote about.
“His defense was that the people in his articles were composites and that he’d changed names to protect the people he’d interviewed. He also claimed he’d combined quotes from several different people to voice what he called ‘common sentiments.’”
“You can’t do that!” I cried. “Newspapers are supposed to report the truth!”
“Bryce’s boss, Rob Kourvis, felt the same way. So did all the other higher-ups at the newspaper. Not only was Bryce fired; the Times printed an apology. A whole bunch of other newspapers picked up the story too. So Bryce Bolt’s name was mud.”
“At least on the mainland,” I observed. “I suppose it’s possible that the scandal didn’t travel all the way to Hawaii.”
“That must be the case,” Nick agreed, “since Rob insisted that after word spread, no newspaper would touch him.”
“So it sounds as if Bryce Bolt is someone who’ll stop at nothing to achieve the success he wants,” I commented.
“That’s what Rob Kourvis seemed to think. Along with just about everybody else in the journalism business.”
The severity of Bryce Bolt’s transgression left me reeling. He had not only betrayed the newspaper he worked for; he had broken every rule of journalism. He had also compromised himself in ways that would make it impossible for most people to look at themselves in a mirror ever again.
Yet from what I had seen, he’d remained unfazed. He still thought of himself as an ace reporter, someone who belonged at a high-quality newspaper like the Honolulu Star-Bulletin.
I felt as if my gut reaction to the arrogant Bryce Bolt was justified. I hadn’t liked the man from the start.
Still, the fact that he was ambitious enough to let poor judgment come close to ruining his career didn’t necessarily mean he was ruthless enough to commit murder.
After lunch, Nick went to the beach to enjoy some well-deserved downtime. As for me, I gathered up Moose, his toys, and all his other worldly possessions and headed off to Karen Nelson’s house in Wailuku.
Thanks to the directions she’d given me on the phone, I found it with ease. As I pulled up in front of the modest one-story ranch, I noted that it was surprisingly similar to the homes that covered Long Island. It was painted pale yellow, with a small porch edged with a white wooden railing. The property even included a tiny lawn, so narrow that it stretched only about ten feet from the road. A neat row of bushes was planted along the front of the house, although they were so sparse and fragile-looking I
suspected they hadn’t been there very long.
The front door was open, and Karen appeared in the doorway before I’d even climbed out of my Jeep. As if wanting to prove her claim that she was already a cat owner, she was carrying a white Persian in her arms.
“How were my directions?” she asked cheerfully, coming out to greet me. Instead of the business attire she was wearing the other time we’d met, she was dressed in beige Bermuda shorts and a pink and green plaid shirt.
“They were great,” I assured her. “Moose and I found you without any problem.”
I also held the cat in my charge in my arms, not sure how he’d react to his new surroundings. I shouldn’t have worried. As soon as he saw the lawn and realized he’d been freed from the confines of hotel living, he began squirming and meowing, telling me in no uncertain terms that he was ready to be let loose.
“Okay, Moose,” I told him. “I can see you’re anxious to check out your new home.”
“I’ll hold on to Eudora here until Moose gets the feel of the place,” Karen said.
But it didn’t take Moose long to start acting as if he belonged here. After being cooped up inside for so long, he probably felt he was in heaven. Karen introduced Eudora, and after the two cats checked each other out for a minute or two, Moose found a shady spot, plopped down on the grass, and cast me a look of great satisfaction.
“Come on inside,” Karen offered. “Can I get you something to drink? Lemonade, iced tea…?”
“Iced tea sounds perfect.
“Thanks for taking Moose,” I said as Karen plunked down a tall frosty glass in front of me.
“Glad to have him,” she replied, sitting down next to me with a glass of her own. “In fact, it’s kind of nice to have something of Marnie’s. It’s a way of keeping her with me. I know the guys in the office used to complain about how pushy she was—and how ambitious—but she wasn’t any different than they were. It’s just that she was a female, so they had different expectations. I thought she was a great kid. Full of energy, full of life…”
Right from the Gecko Page 25
