He was in the dining room having breakfast.
“Won’t you join me?” he said when he looked up and noticed me loitering in the doorway.
“Uh, I’m afraid everything on the menu here is a bit pricey for me,” I said. “I’m unemployed. I just lost a great job as a government snitch, and gigs like that are hard to come by.”
He laughed, something he rarely did. “C’mon and have a little something to eat,” he said. “You’re still a guest of The County of Maui until I return you safely back to your domicile.”
I ordered a light breakfast of yogurt, fruit and coffee. I had a sneaking suspicion Wong wasn’t going to put my tab on his expense report. He’d pick it up himself to avoid the appearance of impropriety. I also ordered light because my stomach was in knots.
“Sleep well?” Wong said.
I shrugged. “I’m pretty excited to be going home.”
“You know there’s still some danger.”
“I know. I’ll be careful. I’m planning on keeping a low profile for a while.”
“Will you be conducting any weddings in the near future?”
“I wish,” I said. “I’m hoping to book a few after the first of the year.”
Wong stared at a spot just above my shoulder for almost a minute before speaking again. “I’m probably out of line here, but it seems only right to let you in on a few things that have come to my attention,” he said.
I waited.
“Remember me mentioning new evidence that was found up at Koele yesterday?” he said. “Well, it turned out to be a pair of bloody latex gloves. The lab in Honolulu did a quick check for fingerprints and blood-type last night and we’ve come up with a possible new scenario.”
I gave him a hint of a nod.
“I’m only telling you this because I know you’re acquainted with the accused and you’ve been asked to provide a statement on his behalf. But from the looks of things, that might not be necessary.”
Now he had my attention.
“Seems the current thinking has shifted to Mr. Romano being the more likely perpetrator. We know he’d called the news outfit he was working for and told them he’d gotten a scoop on the Benson/Diamonte wedding. We also know he’d been promised a large sum of money for the story. Then it seems Miss Diamonte called Mr. Romano’s editor and told him she’d changed her mind. When Mr. Romano heard about her change of heart, it appears he may have gone to Miss Diamonte’s room. He’d have known the room number since he’d been there when they’d struck the original deal. We can’t know what his intentions were at that point, but we’re assuming he went there hoping to change her mind.”
Pieces were starting to fall into place.
“Anyway, that’s the current mode of thinking,” Wong said. “And so far, phone records and hotel surveillance tapes seem to confirm it.”
I was flabbergasted Wong was sharing this information with me. It wasn’t like we were friends. In fact, on Wong’s one-to-ten scale of people he liked I’d probably rate about a zero.
“Early forensic tests shows the blood type on the exterior of the gloves matches that of Miss Diamonte,” he said. “And interior prints are those of Mr. Romano’s.”
“But you said the fingerprints on the knife matched Tyler Benson’s,” I said.
“Where’d you hear that?”
“From Darryl Fontaine at the White Orchid Bed and Breakfast.”
“That’s odd.” Wong’s eyes narrowed. “When I spoke with Mr. Fontaine he told me he hadn’t spoken to you since he left for Honolulu, and he promised he’d call me if you showed up.”
“Uh, well, maybe I heard it from someone else,” I said.
“Anyway, you’re correct. Mr. Benson’s prints were on the knife. But the knife was from a room service fruit tray which had been delivered to Miss Diamonte’s suite earlier that afternoon.”
Whoa. I was getting lost. I bit my lower lip as I puzzled out what he was saying. Then I took a shot. “So, you think Tyler used the knife earlier, but he didn’t use it to kill Deedee?”
“Hard to say, but at this point it looks that way. The police were alerted by Four Seasons security about the gloves. Those gloves were the missing piece.”
I kept my head down, really scraping to get the last bit of yogurt in the dish.
“I don’t know the full extent of your involvement in all of this, Ms. Moon, and frankly I find your pathological need to dig into matters that are none of your business troubling. But in this instance, I’m pretty sure whatever you did helped us get to the bottom of this.”
Was Wong thanking me? Sounded like it. But there was no way was I’d ask for clarification. As Auntie Mana would say, Don’t wake up a sleeping dog.
He cleared his throat. “Okay, now let’s finish up and catch that ferry. I’m sure you’re as eager as I am to get home before Christmas.”
CHAPTER 30
Once again I was treated to the magnificent view of sailing into Lahaina Harbor. This time, however, I wouldn’t be staying for just a few hours. This time I was returning for good. We pulled up to the dock and I looked over to see if the Maui Happy Returns was in port. It wasn’t. Probably Ono had snagged a private snorkel cruise for the morning, or perhaps he’d been called to O’ahu by the catamaran’s owner.
I slipped my bag onto my shoulder and followed Wong to the back of the ferry to disembark. The ponytail guy was standing at the gangway. He shook his head as I approached, but he didn’t say anything.
Wong stepped aside and allowed me to walk off the gangway ahead of him.
“You want to make sure you’re not in the way if they’ve come gunning for me?” I said with a laugh.
He didn’t look amused. “I’ve ordered stepped-up patrols for your neighborhood,” he said. “There’s not much more I can do.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “I may go live somewhere else for a while, though. I’m not sure.”
“Do me a favor and let me know where you are. We’ll move the patrols to wherever you are, unless of course you leave the island.”
“Don’t worry about that, detective, I’m home. And I’m not leaving again for a long time.”
We made our way through the milling crowd of people getting off the ferry and the people jostling to get on. Once we crossed Harbor Avenue, Wong squinted and looked around. His face looked apprehensive, which didn’t bode well for me.
“Something wrong?” I said.
“No. Everything’s fine.”
“Can you give me a ride up to Hali’imaile?”
“Uh, in a minute. I need to check on something first.” He stepped away, ostensibly to allow himself some privacy while he made a cell phone call. I looked back at the harbor, the ocean, and the shadowy silhouette of the island of Lana’i in the distance.
***
Wong was still on his phone when I heard a clear male voice start singing the first lines of “In Dis Life” by the late Israel “Iz” Kamakawiwo’Ole. I turned around to see who was singing. During his lifetime, Iz’s haunting rendition of “Over the Rainbow /Wonderful World” was his most popular song, but my favorite has always been “In Dis Life.”
The guy who was singing was crazy good-looking, with a Greek statue’s face, a Chippendale’s physique, and a well-tended shock of blond hair. Soon, another guy joined in. He was also many notches above the centerline on the hunky-looks scale. With each phrase of the lyrics another and then another great-looking guy joined in.
Within a minute, I was surrounded by more than a dozen guys singing in three-part harmony. The circle parted and my roommate, Steve, appeared. He grabbed me and hugged me with a vengeance. I started crying.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he said. He had to say it pretty loud to be heard over the singing.
“Mahalo for coming down to meet me,” I said. “How did you know I was coming home today?”
Steve turned and looked over at Wong. “I’ve got my sources.”
When the song was over, the circle disassembled as quickly as it h
ad come together. But no one left. They all stood around as if they were waiting for the signal to leave.
“I’ve always wanted to do a flash mob,” Steve said. “These guys have been rehearsing for weeks.”
“Are they friends of yours from the B and C?” I said. The Ball and Chain was Steve’s favorite hang-out. It’s a gay bar in Kehei that tolerates straight folks but definitely caters to a more rainbow-hued clientele.
“Some of them. And some are just way-cute guys I recruited down at the beach,” he said. “I’m always looking for a good conversation starter. And believe me, asking a guy if he’d like to join a flash mob to welcome home my roommate from federal witness protection was definitely a first rate ice breaker.”
“You’re the best,” I said. I hugged him again and the guys in the group let out a collective, “Ahh.”
I thanked everyone for coming and for their beautiful singing. As the singers began dispersing, I looked across the street. Wong was still there, arms folded across his chest. No way would he admit it, but he probably knew many, if not all, of the singers. But unlike Steve, Wong’s gender preference remained a tightly-guarded secret. It was like the recipe for Coca-Cola. Everyone, even Detective Glen Wong, knows that someday the recipe for Coke will be posted on the Internet. But until then, it will stay secret.
We crossed the street and Steve spoke first. “Hey Glen, how’s it hanging?”
“I can’t complain,” said Wong.
“Mind if I take your former charge back home with me to Hali’imaile?”
“It’s okay with me,” said Wong. “The department will have any belongings she may have left behind sent over in a day or two.”
“Mahalo, Detective,” I said. “I appreciate that.”
Detective Wong gave me a two-finger salute and turned and swiftly walked away, as if he was needed elsewhere.
Steve put an arm around my shoulders and we took our time making our way to his car.
“Are you worried about blowback from the druggies?” he said as we walked up Dickenson Street.
“A little. But I think with every day that passes my chances get better. Most of those guys have smart phones, and word will get out that the reward’s been rescinded.”
“Yeah,” Steve said. “But I hope they don’t use the word ‘rescinded’ ‘cause those cranked-up losers wouldn’t have a clue what that means.”
“True.”
We walked along in silence and then Steve said, “Aren’t you gonna ask me about it?”
“Maybe we should wait until we get home,” I said. “I’ve already used up my quota of crying in public today.”
***
The ride up the Honoap’ilani Highway was magical, which was kind of ironic, since I’d driven that same route the day before. But on Saturday I’d been totally focused on driving, not wanting to look at anything but the car ahead of me. I’d needed to talk to Marta, and then we’d gone right back to the ferry, so there was no time for nostalgia. And besides, with Kate in the car the last thing I needed was to blow my cover by giving in to homesickness.
But this time I was going home. Everything looked the same as it had when I’d left, but it all looked different, too. The sugar cane fields along the Kuihelani Highway had been brown and stubbly when I’d left. Now the canes were green and growing. The traffic was as clogged as ever on Dairy Road, but everyone was smiling and letting other cars in ahead of them. The whole atmosphere of Kahului was, you better not shout, you better not pout. After all, Santa was coming in only two days and he’d be checking who’d been naughty and who’d been nice.
“So, what do you know about the situation?” I finally asked Steve.
“You’re talking about Hatch and Farrah, right?”
“Of course I’m talking about them. What else would I be talking about?” Uh-oh, sounded like I was slipping into the naughty category.
“I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page,” he said.
“Ono came over to Lana’i last week and told me they’ve been living together.”
“I’m glad you know that much at least. I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news on your first day back. You’ve been known to threaten the messenger over smaller stuff than this.”
“So what’s the deal?” I said.
“Who knows? About a week after you left I guess some druggie supposedly showed up at Farrah’s apartment. Her dog scared ‘em off, but next thing you know, she’s moved in with Hatch. They’ve been kind of an item around town ever since.”
“What’s that mean, ‘kind of an item’?”
“Means you never see one without the other. At the store, at the movies, out to dinner, you name it.”
“But Hatch is still working at the fire department?”
“Far as I know,” Steve said.
“And Farrah’s still running the Gadda da Vida Store?”
“She’s got Beatrice holding down the fort most of the time, but when Farrah does show up, Hatch is always there too.”
By then we’d almost made it to the turn onto Hali’imaile Road. Steve seemed agitated, but I chalked it up to talking to me about my best friend and my boyfriend getting it on while I was holed up on an unfamiliar island trying to avoid getting shot in the head.
“I need to park over here,” Steve said taking a turn on a street that paralleled our street.
“Why?”
“They’re re-tarring our road or something. They put flyers on everyone’s cars. Said the street would be closed for a couple of days.”
“Oh great. I finally make it home and I have to come in through the alley. It figures. First my best friend screws my boyfriend and now I’m relegated to the back door.” Naughty, naughty, naughty. Santa was going to need to make a major stop at a coal mine before coming to my house.
We got out and I choked back tears of gratitude when I saw the back of my little white house.
“You happy to be home?” Steve said.
“For sure. I’m over-the-moon happy. Not only am I glad to be here, but I didn’t have to go to the mainland, or lie for Tyler Benson—”
“Whoa, wait a minute,” Steve said, interrupting me. “Are you talking about the Tyler Benson? The guy who makes the ‘Stony Jackson’ flicks?”
“One and the same.”
“Okay, girl, let’s get inside. We’ve got a bunch of catching up to do.”
CHAPTER 31
I should have known my friends wouldn’t let me come home to an empty house. My first clue was the music thumping through the thin clapboard walls. It abruptly stopped when Steve and I came through the back gate. My next clue was the weird look on Steve’s face when he insisted I go in first, even though he was about four steps ahead of me.
“Surprise!” The cheer rocked me back with its exuberance. Everyone sort of held their collective breath as I passed through the kitchen and out to the front room. It seemed as if everybody I’d known since high school was crammed into my tiny house. How had Steve pulled this off?
Nearly everyone greeted me the same way, Were you surprised?
“Yes, I was totally surprised.” I must have said it fifty times. I was hugged and kissed and draped in leis for half an hour. But as thrilled as I was by the amazing turnout, there were only two people I really wanted to see.
They were standing in the far corner of the living room, off to the side. Farrah looked radiant in a white caftan. Her long brown curls had been tamed into a knot at the top of her head with tendrils falling around her beautiful, olive-skin face. She wore way more make-up than usual. It looked as if she’d shed her freshly-scrubbed flower child look for a more sultry appearance. Hatch stood next to her looking heart-breakingly handsome in his Maui Fire Department station uniform. The blue shirt made his eyes appear electric. He’d allowed his dark hair to grow a little longer and there were tiny curls forming behind his ears. Since he was in uniform, I figured he must’ve been working and he’d asked someone to come in for him while he attended my little shindig.
Farrah came forward first, her arms outstretched. I didn’t know what to do. Everyone was watching. I assumed everyone knew what had transpired while I was gone and there were probably more than a few folks who were itching to see a cat-fight. I vowed to not give them the satisfaction.
“Ku’uipo,” Farrah said, using the Hawaiian term for ‘my sweetheart’ or ‘darling.’ I wanted to snap that she should save her endearments for her new boyfriend, but I stuck to my vow and simply smiled.
“You look great, Farrah.” I leaned in to give her a quick shoulder hug but she grabbed me and pulled me in tight. Her pillowy bosom felt more welcome than I’d imagined and it was all I could do to not burst into tears and demand an explanation, there and then. When I stepped back, I saw her wince. Probably hugging me was last thing she wanted to do, but she felt she had to keep up appearances.
“Hey, babe,” said Hatch coming up behind Farrah. He looked about as uncomfortable as the shortest boy at a junior high school dance, but he soldiered on, draping a long arm around my shoulders and planting a peck on my cheek.
I checked Farrah for her reaction. She just stood there, smiling, which made the whole charade just that much tougher to stomach.
Steve came out of the kitchen bearing an overflowing champagne bottle and a plastic cup. “Everyone grab a glass. I’m sorry they’re plastic, but our girl here has too many friends for me to break out the Waterford crystal. Now get ready, ‘cause I’m going to make a toast.”
People scurried to the kitchen to grab cups and champagne bottles. When everyone was holding a cup of champagne, Steve signaled for quiet.
“Well, first of all,” he said, “I want to say I’m so glad to have Pali back because it’s been pretty lonely around here. After the first couple of weeks I started talking to the walls, and I swear, last week they actually started to talk back.” There were a few courtesy chuckles, but I sucked in a quick gasp. How was it he’d come up with the same lame phrase I’d used on Wong only three weeks earlier? Had Steve and I become so much alike after living together we’d started channeling each other’s bad jokes?
Lana'i of the Tiger (The Islands of Aloha Mystery Series) Page 18
