Mystery of the Lei Palaoa
Page 3
He nodded, apparently relieved at my nonchalance.
Aw, hell, why should he get off easy? “I’m proud of you, kid.”
His cheeks flushed a bright red, but he smiled. “Thanks. That means a lot.” He cleared his throat. “Homer might know Ricky. That dude knows everyone down here.”
The line moved quickly. When we were next up, Homer smiled at us. “What can I get for you gentlemen?”
Show up and eat or hit the street was the likely mantra here, and we were doing neither. The trouble with being at the front of the line is we had a bunch of antsy people behind us. I said, “We’re investigating Ricky Coyne’s death.”
It took a moment for Homer to respond, but when he did, his disdain was obvious. “I can’t talk right now.”
Chance jumped right in. “When’s your break, brah? Can we talk to you then?”
Homer sighed. “Ten minutes. You guys gotta let the others order.”
We acknowledged Homer’s willingness to help, even if he wasn’t happy about it, and crossed to the apartment side of the street, where we waited in front of a ruddy pink apartment complex. After about two minutes of waiting, my skin prickled with sweat.
“It’s hot on this side of the street. Wish we had some shade.”
“I hear you.” Chance glanced up and down the street. “Man, this is like an urban jungle. The only things that grow are concrete.”
“Hotels and apartments, Chance. Tourism is our life blood. That lady’s got the right idea, chillaxin’ in the shade.”
I pointed at a heavyset woman wearing a calf-length muumuu who stepped out of line and sat in one of the chairs under a thatched umbrella. Chance nodded and flashed me a shaka sign. Well, wasn’t he just turning into Mr. Cool?
“You’re catching on to the lingo, yah? You called him ‘brah’ and understand the blend of chill and relax. Bravo.”
Chance hitched his chin in the direction of the truck. “He’s coming.”
Homer exited the truck, looked around, spotted us, and approached. Chance and Homer appeared unconcerned about being in the sun. Homer wore a Dodgers baseball cap; Chance’s had the Tigers logo. I was the odd man out with the Panama hat my girlfriend’s daughter Andi had given me. It’s a long story, but suffice it to say meeting Benni and Andi had changed my life.
Once again, Chance took the lead. “When’s the last time you saw Ricky?”
“Couple days ago.” Homer tilted his head toward the church across the street. “Dude was hanging out here.”
“Why do you dislike him?” I asked.
Homer grimaced, then let out a small huff. “He’s not from around here, brah.”
“You aren’t either,” said Chance. “Neither am I, but we’re fitting in.”
“We’re different.” Homer stopped and scratched the back of his head. “That didn’t come out right. We’re here to do some good. That dude, though, he wasn’t trying to fit in. He did what he could to rub people the wrong way. He was…suspicious.”
“Suspicious? How?” The words had just popped out automatically. It was the one true thing about the tabloids—inquiring minds really do want to know.
“He was always asking questions.” Homer paused, rubbed his chin as though pondering a new development. “He could have been a cop.”
Chance stepped right into Homer’s personal space zone—the little bubble we all carry around that makes us feel uncomfortable when someone gets too close. I suppose if I told Kimu he continually violated my personal space he’d call me a wimp. In Homer’s case, proximity didn’t seem to bother him a bit.
“Why do you think that?” Chance asked.
“Look, brah, when you been with these people for a while, you get to know them. You’re still new. But, you’re already trying to help out. Thing is, when people show up and start asking questions without a good reason, other people get suspicious. It ain’t nothing unusual. Just a fact of life. Especially in a small place like this, strangers are…well, strange.”
That was dead-on accurate, especially if Homer was referring to Hawai‘i, not the neighborhood. We might have a million residents, but the islands are isolated. Many families had known each other for generations. It was a lesson I learned the moment my plane landed. The only reason I’d been accepted by so many people was because of my relationship with Alexander. Had we not met, had he not befriended me, I’d still be a lonely stranger in paradise.
Chance’s eyebrows knitted themselves together as he backed away from Homer.
The objective was to keep Homer talking, so while Chance thought, I asked the obvious question. “If Ricky was a cop, why isn’t HPD investigating?”
He scrunched up his face and rubbed the back of his neck again. “You got a point. HPD would’ve been all over this.” He eyed me suspiciously. “Or maybe they sent you. You a cop?”
“No.” I shook my head emphatically. “And Ricky Coyne wasn’t either. Here’s the deal, Homer. We’re trying to get to the bottom of Ricky’s death. We really need to get something concrete. Please, tell us what you know.”
He held my gaze for a moment, then licked his lips. “Okay. News about the thing at that fancy coffee shop is all over the streets. Word is someone wanted to make Ricky pay for messing with his friend.”
“Steve McTaggert?” I asked.
Chance did a double take at the mention of McTaggert’s name.
“No, brah, Cedrick Rinehart.”
That was not a name I’d heard before. “Who’s he?”
“Some high school kid,” Homer said.
“The boy who was with the two girls in the store.” Chance rubbed the back of his neck; his jaw was tight. “Steve game me the names when I talked to him this morning. You remember him—big, awkward.”
“That was Cedrick?”
Homer nodded.“Yeah, that’s him. Anyways, word is he’s got the hots for the chick who works there, Mandy. Supposedly, she had a thing goin’ on with both of them.”
Chapter 6
Homer yawned and glanced at the food truck. There were now a dozen people waiting in line. With the exception of one man who, stood with his face tilted toward the sun, most of those in line hung back in the shade of a mango tree. It was funny how we who lived here might love the sun, but hide from it, too.
“Anything else?” Homer raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “I’m happy to help, but…don’t know what else I can tell you, brah. Gettin’ busy over there. Looks like Carlos needs some help.”
We nodded our thanks and let Homer return to work.
“He raised some big questions, Chance.”
Had we missed the clues at the Book & a Latte. Ricky had been overly friendly with Mandy. Cedrick had been the first one at Mandy’s side when the trouble began. Had Ricky gone after his girlfriend? Was this a simple case at its core? Was it all about love? Jealousy?
“Agreed. I don’t know about you, McKenna, but I’ve got more questions about Mandy and her friends.”
He pulled out his phone and confirmed Mandy would start work in an hour.
I looked at the street sign on the corner. “We’re only a couple of blocks from Ruffage Natural Foods. It’s just a hole-in-the-wall, but they understand gluten-free and the food is good. It’s pretty unpretentious.”
“Good prices, huh?”
“Smart ass. Yeah, my kind of place.”
We had lunch and arrived ten minutes before Mandy was due to start work. The aroma of coffee beans filled the air. We found Mandy in the back room, pinning up her curly, blonde hair. Her gray eyes widened the moment she saw us. Her eyes brimmed with tears and we spent the next few minutes consoling her over the recent tragedy. Her emotions made sense if she’d been having an affair with Ricky. She made a valiant effort to hide how she felt, but tears and sniffles grant no pardon.
Chance, of course, had a smooth introduction and began the questioning.
“Mandy, you’re aware Steve asked me to investigate the death of Ricky Coyne, right? We’re going through the events o
f yesterday afternoon. What do you recall about that interaction?”
More tears. More sobs. “He was just a customer, but I’ve never known anyone who…died. It’s awful.”
Seriously? The girl was in high school. How could she not have experienced death? “No aunties? Uncles? You’ve never known anyone who died?”
She shook her head and brushed back another tear. “I’ve got to start in a couple of minutes.”
“I talked to Mr. McTaggert,” said Chance. “He’s okay with you starting late.”
“Oh.” She glanced off to one side, silent.
“It’s always hard when someone you know passes on,” Chance said.
I repeated my question. “So you’ve never known anyone else who died?”
A moment later, she shrugged. “No one close.”
Don’t think my ears didn’t perk up at the word “close.” How many deadbeats and their relatives had lied to me over the years by veiling the truth in innuendo? What did her subtle shift from “nobody” to “no one close” mean? It was just like the guy in Torrance who tried to run me down when I showed up to repo his car. At the time, I didn’t realize “let me get my keys” meant he would use them to make his getaway. Everything meant something. Each word counted. How often was the truth hidden in the color of the veil? Unlike my young apprentice, I wasn’t buying this story.
“You probably get to know all the customers,” I said. “I’ll bet Ricky came in here a lot.”
“He was here every single day. Always got the same thing. Coffee. Two sugars. No milk.”
It was the longest string of words she’d put together since this conversation had started. If we could keep her talking, she might box herself in. Let her put herself in a position where she’d be forced to tell the truth.
“Some friends of yours were here. I’ll bet they’re upset, too. Who were they?”
“Anny, Ursula, and Cedrick? They came in to say goodbye. Ursula’s parents took her to LA for a month to visit relatives. She wants to go to a mainland school. All the kids want to leave.”
I let out a deep sigh. It was the brain-drain—the heartbreaking reality in Hawai‘i. The best and brightest usually left the islands to better their education. Too often, they never returned. Would this time be different? Probably not.
“So Ursula got off okay?” I asked.
“She texted me from the mainland last night. I don’t think she knows what happened yet.”
“Good. That might be best for a while. The others were Cedrick and Anny?”
“Yeah, Anny works at the ABC Store down the street. She tried to get in here, but Mr. McTaggert didn’t want to hire my best friend. Cedrick just hangs out with us.”
She still hadn’t called Cedrick—or Ricky, for that matter—her boyfriend. Why not? “You were pretty upset over Ricky wearing a lei palaoa. Why did that bother you so much?”
“I overreacted,” she fingered the scrunchie tying up her hair. “We’re in the middle of finals and I just finished a paper on the history of the lei palaoa. The whole thing caught me off guard. Ricky didn’t deserve me taking my frustrations out on him.” She swallowed hard. “He’s—was—a good guy.”
Or, not. Why had it taken so much for her to say those words?
From across the room, someone called Mandy’s name. One of her friends from the other day rushed forward. This must be Anny. She was a bit shorter than Mandy—maybe about five-four. She had long, blonde hair and a straight nose with flat cheeks. Hers was a timeless beauty that would serve her well in Hollywood should she ever decide to make a run at stardom.
She threw her arms around Mandy’s neck and the girls hugged. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
They swayed side-to-side as the time dragged on. Eventually, Mandy sobbed, “Thanks, Anny. I’m good.” She pulled herself out of the embrace. “These two are investigating Ricky’s death.”
Anny shook her head, but she had no tears or sobs. Interesting. It was looking even more like Mandy had known Ricky far better than her friends. I extended a hand toward the girl.
“McKenna.”
She glanced down at my hand, pausing a moment before giving me a very girly handshake with just her fingertips. “I’m Anny. We’re best friends. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“That’s okay,” I said.
Anny had no idea what we’d been talking about. If I catch them off balance, this might be our opportunity to break down the information barrier Mandy had erected. “We’d also like to talk to Cedrick. Where’s he live?”
“He lives over on Hillcrest,” said Anny.
Mandy shot her an angry glance. Could she have expected to get away with the old “I don’t know his address” trick? How could friends not know where their friends lived?
“I didn’t know the street name.” Mandy dropped her gaze to the floor. “My mom drops me off when I go.”
“Once you get a car you’ll learn the street names.” Anny gave her friend a reassuring hug, then looked at me. “They run Lei’d in Paradise.”
A floral shop? What the hell? Mandy had worn a lei in the dream. The scent of plumeria had hung in the air this morning. Were the clues coming together already?
“McKenna? You okay?”
It was Chance, shaking my shoulder.
“Sorry, just had a little flashback.”
My insides tingled. I had so many questions for Cedrick. What would he say when asked about his relationship with Mandy? Where had he gone after the Book & a Latte incident?
“What’s the name of the flower shop again?” I asked.
Anny pulled slightly away from her friend. “Oh, they don’t have a shop. His mom just makes leis and delivers them. You can find them in a couple of the boutiques down on Kalākaua.”
“Do you know the street address of the house?”
Anny volunteered not only the address, but a description of the house. With each word, Mandy’s face brightened.
We ended our conversation by ordering a couple of coffees, which gave me another opportunity to be the big spender thanks to Chance’s gift card. I now had fifteen bucks down, eighty-five to go.
After we ordered, Chance and I took a table, but the moment Mandy disappeared from the front counter, I snuck over to the door she’d gone through, intent on eavesdropping.
She spoke in hushed tones, but her whispers soon turned to hisses. She ended the conversation with a vehement, “Get rid of it!”
Chapter 7
Mandy still had the phone in her hand when I barged through the open doorway. She glanced down at the device, then at me, and burst into tears seconds later. Her words came tumbling out like a mountain stream rushing downhill.
“It was Cedrick. He’s the one who wanted to make that awful Ricky Coyne pay for being such a jerk. I don’t know what he did. That’s the truth. Do you think he killed Ricky?”
Hers was the fastest rat-on-your-friend confession I’d ever seen. Had she crumbled under the sheer weight of her own guilt? Or, was that merely what she wanted me to think?
The owner, who must have heard Mandy’s sobs, rushed into the room. He took one look at Mandy, then glared at me. He went straight to the girl and pulled her into a comforting embrace. She melted into him, all the while blubbering into his shoulder.
“This is terrible, Mr. McTaggert. I’m afraid Cedrick has done something awful. I don’t want him to go to jail; he’s my friend.”
“It’s okay, Mandy.” He patted her shoulder, then gazed into her eyes while gently pushing her out to arm’s length. The material of his shirt was dark with her tears and mascara smudges. “Maybe we don’t need the police, yet. I asked Chance to investigate and clear my name.” He turned and sneered at me. “I wouldn’t feel right having a boy accused of murder on my account.”
Steve-o was going to get all self-righteous on us now? Maybe he didn’t get it. Somebody killed Ricky Coyne. Period. A murder investigation wasn’t like painting a wall—changing the outcome was not an option.
That’s all it took. We were on our way. Armed with Cedrick Rinehart’s full street address, the Ferrari’s GPS, and a growing suspicion that Kimu was gazing down from above, laughing his ass off while watching me try to figure out his mind-bending clues.
To his credit, Chance decided to bypass the H-1 and use the surface streets. The rumble of the Ferrari’s engine became a gentle background drone as we worked our way steadily upwards and out of the city. What did a human sacrifice, a movie set, and plumeria have to do with each other? Better yet, how did they relate to a murder on the streets of Honolulu? Then, there was the theft of the lei palaoa. How did that fit in? Kimu knew; I sure didn’t.
Chance parked across from the Rinehart’s home. Our destination had a cinder block carport at street level. From there it was a hike up to the main entrance.
I glanced up and down the street. Typical Honolulu middle-class neighborhood. No sidewalks. Both sides of the street bordered by all-purpose grass strips that were used for parking, walking, and putting out trash cans. The architecture varied by decade of construction. Lava rock retaining walls were common here. Like many, this neighborhood had everything from World War I to present day. Home colors in this neighborhood were subdued, no forest green with white trim or sunshine yellow on sky blue. Here, it was more drab on drab.
“The lots are a nice size,” I said. “Someone with a lei business could grow a decent supply of material.”
“You sure are a wealth of information, McKenna.” Chance’s gaze went from me to the home and back again. He climbed out of the car, closed his door, a quizzical expression on his face. “How’s that relate to Ricky Coyne’s death?”
I grinned. “Plumeria, kid. Check out the tree. Backyard. You can see about half of it on the left side.”