Moonlight Cocktail

by William Cassidy

  The Lane’s lived in a large white house with a portico and pillars that gave it an air of royalty. It reminded Jack of Washington Place, the official residence of Hawaii’s governors in downtown Honolulu. He imagined that, with its broad porch and overhanging roof, the Lanes’ house might have been like those that Hawaiian royalty had built at Waikiki in the late nineteenth century. As Jack approached the house, Sidney came down from the porch to meet him.

  “Good afternoon, Jack.”

  “Hello, Sidney. What a house! I thought Princess Kaiulani might come out to greet me.”

  “You are so kind. George and I tried to make it as beautiful and comfortable as we could in an Old Hawaii sort of way.”

  “Well, I’ve only seen the porch but I’d say you’ve succeeded.”

  “Let me show you inside. We’ll be having lunch on the lanai out back as soon as George arrives.”

  The walls of the living room and dining room were covered in panels made of Hawaii’s most valuable koa wood, a clear sign of the house’s age and quality. This much koa had not been available at reasonable prices since the early part of the twentieth century. The moldings around the door frames and the mantel that framed the fireplace reminded Jack of old beach cottages on the east coast that had also been built in the 1920’s.

  “Jack, you must see our library.”

  “I’d love to,” Jack said as he walked through the living room to an adjoining room that was also richly appointed and elegant.

  “You’ve got a huge library here,” Jack exclaimed as he surveyed floor to ceiling mahogany shelves that were packed with row after row of books.

  “George and I have a fondness for the nineteenth century, when books were the major form of entertainment. That may surprise you, since we were both in the movie business for so long.”

  “It does surprise me!”

  “I thought it would. I’ll tell you why over lunch.”

  “May I look at some of your books?”

  “Certainly. In fact, since you’re developing an interest in tropical plants and flowers, let me show you our collection of botanical references.”

  Sidney took Jack to one corner of the library by a window that looked out on the Lanes’ expansive gardens and waved her hand across row after row of books about plants and flowers found in the islands.

  “I feel like I’m in the Bishop Museum,” Jack said turning to Sidney.

  “You might as well be. I don’t mean to boast, but our collection is nearly as extensive as theirs.”

  “Do you also have books about Hawaiian culture and tradition, like the Museum does?”

  “Of course, they’re right over here,” she said, pointing to a group of shelves adjacent to those that held the botanical treatises.

  “For ease of reference, I assume,” said Jack.

  “Yes, one subject does lead naturally to the other. When you study Hawaiian customs, you must also learn about their plants and flowers.”

  “You’ve really gotten into this, haven’t you Sidney?”

  “Yes, we have. It’s been sort of an escape for George and me from an unhappy period in our lives.”

  Just then, the front door opened and Jack heard George Lane’s voice.

  “Sidney, I’m home.”

  Sidney led Jack out of the library and back into the living room where she waved to George, who was colorfully attired in a green linen sport coat, yellow pants, and a pink shirt punctuated with a paisley ascot.

  “Sorry I’m late, Sidney. I stopped by the marina to talk to the mechanic about the boat. Damn engine’s been giving me problems. Good Afternoon, Jack. I see Sidney’s giving you the cook’s tour of our archives.”

  “Yes, and I must say that I’ve enjoyed it. Your house is beautiful, George, and your library is fascinating.”

  “I’m glad you like it. Sidney tells me you’re developing an interest in all things Hawaiian.”

  “I am. Katherine and I want to make these islands home, so we’re trying to learn everything we can about them.”

  “That’s just the way we felt when we started out here.”

  “Lunch is served on the lanai,” Sidney announced from the kitchen.

  George led Jack out to an elegant patio a few steps down from the back door of the house. Sidney had set a table for three with a linen tablecloth and her finest china and silver.

  “Sidney, this looks beautiful. Thank you for having me to such an elegant lunch.”

  “It’s our pleasure, Jack. George and I liked you and Katherine the first time we met you at the Grant’s, and we’re just thrilled that you enjoy the islands as much as we do.”

  “We really do love it here,” Jack said as he sat down. “We feel completely at home, even though we’re thousands of miles away from where we grew up.”

  “The islands have that effect on some people,” George said as he sat down. “It’s hard to tell who will be comfortable here, but I can see that you are.”

  “I am. Katherine and I really love it here.”

  “I told Jack about our interest in botany, dear, and about our collection of books.”

  “Jack”, George said, “the older I get, the fonder I become of the past. We came here to get away from our life in Hollywood. It was a terrible place for us, full of lies, backstabbing, and double-dealing. We reached the point where we hated getting up in the morning and going to work in the movie business. It was one duplicitous person after another, and the worst part was that, because of their positions, these people were able to control us in all kinds of ways, not the least of which was our livelihood. So one day, after we experienced the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back, we decided we’d had enough and left.”

  “And we’ve been ecstatically happy here ever since,” Sidney said.

  “Yes, with only one exception”, George added.

  “What was that?” Jack asked.

  “When we saw Derek Reynolds at the Club on Monday night. It brought back all the bad memories.”

  “Had you worked with him?”

  “Yes, Sidney did, and he told her he would make her a star, but he always found another actress who was more useful to him for other reasons. He let us down time after time.”

  “Enough of that, dear, you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” Sidney said.

  “Good riddance as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Oh stop, George. God will send a bolt of lightning if you don’t.”

  “I doubt it. I’m sure He shares my view, especially since He knows a lot more about Derek than I do, and I’m sure none of it is good.”

  During their luncheon conversation, Jack noticed that the index and middle fingers on George’s right hand bore the unmistakable yellow stains of tobacco. And his right thumb tended toward a shade of brown that was not the result of exposure to the Central Pacific sun.

  “Jack”, Sidney said, “let’s go out to the garden. I want you to see it before that bolt of lightning strikes!”

  Sidney and George took Jack on an hour-long tour of their garden. There were formal areas near the house and wild ones near the edge of the property. Sidney and George knew the identity of every flower and plant and the role of each in Hawaiian culture and traditions. In one corner at the far edge of their property, Jack spotted a familiar looking bush next to an empty patch of soil that looked freshly tilled.

  “Is that an ‘Akia?” Jack inquired.

  George turned quickly, looking directly at Jack.

  “You’ve been studying, haven’t you?” he asked.

  “Yes, I have. I’m trying to get a handle on as many native plants as possible.” Jack tried his best to appear nonchalant.

  “How do you know about ‘Akia?” George asked with a furrowed brow.

  “Oh, I read about it in one of the botanical treatises and I’ve seen it around the island.”

  “It’s not one of the more desirable ornamentals but it is native to Oahu, so we thought we ought to have it in our garden.” George spoke in a
sharp tone that conveyed a distinct desire to change the subject.

  “Yes, there are a lot more that are better looking,” Jack said.

  “But it was present in traditional Hawaiian gardens,” George added.

  “Really?” Jack exclaimed.

  “Yes, ‘Akia was a popular shrub and it’s still seen all over the island.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll look into getting some for our place on the Big Island. It’s not dangerous is it, George?”

  “I’ve never heard of anyone getting sick from touching it.”

  “How about eating it? Are there any dangerous parts that you shouldn’t eat?”

  “I don’t know. As I said, I’ve never known anyone to get sick from contact with ‘Akia.”

  “I’ll give it some thought, but you’re right, there are lots of better looking ornamentals.”

  “Many more, Jack,” Sidney said. “Come with me and I’ll show you some of them, as well as our flowers.”

  She showed him a raucous array of Bougainvillea, Royal Poinciana, Hibiscus, Anthuriums, Plumeria, and Oleander.

  “You have to be careful with Oleander, Jack. It can make you sick,” Sidney said.

  “Yes, I’ve learned about a few of the dangerous plants in my reading. In fact, I’m happy to see you don’t have any Angel’s Trumpets.”

  “No, they are very dangerous. And we don’t have any Be-Still trees either. I don’t want our cat and dog chewing them, and I don’t want any children tasting them either.”

  “That about does it, Jack,” George announced as they reached the point where they had begun their tour. “I hope you’ll bring Katherine over some time.”

  “I will, and thank you both for a lovely afternoon. Maybe you could visit us on the Big Island some time and tell us what you think we should plant around our house over there. I could also show you around the Plantation.”

  “We’d love to. George and I try to get over to The Poinciana one weekend a month, but we don’t get over nearly often enough.”

  “Not nearly enough,” George added gratuitously.

  “Well, please be sure to call and let me know the next time you’re going over.”

  “I shall. Goodbye, Jack,” said Sidney.

  Jack decided to take the long way back to the Royal Hawaiian and drove from the Lanes’ house on Lanikai Beach Road to Kalanianaole Highway. Before long, however, the traffic slowed to a crawl because of road repairs ahead, and the delay gave Jack time to think about the day’s events. He was careful not to make linkages where there was insufficient evidence and resisted drawing conclusions before all the facts were in, but he could not discount the fact that there were three people at the party — Jennifer Adams and George and Sidney Lane — who had good reason to wish Derek Reynolds ill. And each of them probably knew about the toxic properties of ‘Akia.

  Jennifer probably knew where to find the toxic strain of ‘Akia from her explorations around the island of Oahu, searching for plants for her Hollywood clients. And Jack could not get the sight of that empty patch of freshly-tilled soil next to the ‘Akia shrubs at the back of the Lanes’ garden out of his mind. He also thought it unlikely that George Lane, with the most complete collection of books about Hawaiian plants, customs and rituals outside the walls of the Bishop Museum, had not researched every plant before placing it in his garden and did not know about the legendary Hawaiian ceremony in which ‘Akia shrubs were used as a source of poison for the execution of criminals. And George, with his tobacco-stained fingers, had seemed damned uncomfortable during the garden tour when the talk turned to ‘Akia.

  Traffic moved at a snail’s pace for ten minutes, causing Jack to turn his attention to the scenery. As his gaze shifted from the houses along the highway to the long line of vehicles in front of him, his eyes stopped at the chrome letters inside the oval on the trunk of the car in front of him, identifying its Korean manufacturer.

  The car was a Kia.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Jack reached for his cell phone on the passenger seat of the Jeep and realized that he had turned it off when he arrived at the Lane’s. As soon as he turned it back on, the phone buzzed and the carrier’s monotone voice informed him that he had received one message. That voice was immediately followed by Dave McNeil’s one-word message:

  “Bingo!”

  Jack was elated. Dave’s communiqué, delivered in a secure code over cell phone air waves, told Jack all he needed to know until he could get to a land line and talk to Dave privately. The lab analyses had concluded that the toxic fluid found in Derek Reynolds’ stomach had come from the ‘Akia plant. Jack immediately called Katherine at her dress shop.

  “Hellooo,” he crowed into the phone as soon as he heard Katherine pick it up.

  “Hi, hubby. What’s new?”

  “Well, I’ve just had a very interesting and productive day, and I want to tell you all about it. In fact, I’m hoping I can persuade you to close up early and meet me at home.”

  “I think that can be arranged. How far are you from home now?”

  “I’m about twenty minutes away if this traffic doesn’t jam up again.”

  “I’ll be there, Jack.”

  Jack’s estimate was right on the mark. Twenty minutes later, at 3:30, he pulled into the driveway of the Royal Hawaiian. He covered the thirty feet between the lobby’s entrance and the elevators in a few seconds, jumped into a closing elevator, and ran up the half flight of stairs to their tower suite. Katherine had not yet arrived, so Jack decided to call Dave and get the details about the lab tests.

  “McNeil.”

  “Dave, Jack. I got your message on my cell phone.”

  “You were right, old boy. Dr. Wong called me early this afternoon with the results of the lab tests comparing the contents of Reynolds’ stomach with fluid from that bush you brought us. They match.”

  “I felt it in my bones, Dave. I just knew it.”

  “Well, I’ve always said you’ve got great instincts.”

  “Damn!”

  “There’s more, Jack.”

  “What else did you find?”

  “The lab took a closer look at the stomach fluids and found some particles in the contents of Reynolds’ stomach that could also be traced to ‘Akia. They’re pieces of bark and leaves that were probably ground in during the process of extracting fluid from the plant.”

  “So, you’ve got a positive identification of the poison.”

  “Yes, we do. The toxicologists are very excited. They’ve never seen this one before.”

  “Well, it’s just like Papa David told me. You might only see it once in a lifetime.”

  “He’s a wise man. I should put him on the payroll.”

  “You should at least consult him, Dave. Who knows what other crimes he could help you solve or even prevent.”

  “You’re right. But, at the moment, it looks like you’re the one who’s helping me solve crimes.”

  “I’m just an amateur.”

  “I disagree, Jack. I haven’t told you what else we’ve found.”

  “There’s more?”

  “I had my boys impound the Ford Taurus that was stolen from Reynolds’ production company, and the forensic team had a double-header.”

  “What did they find?”

  “When they compared the treads on the Taurus’s tires with the plaster casts of the tread marks from the mud out in Kailua where you found that ‘Akia, they got two hits. They got a match for that class of tire — you know, the same tread design, size and manufacturer. And they got an individual match for each tire tread. The knicks and cuts in each of the Taurus’s tires showed up in the plaster casts of the tread marks from the field.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Nope.”

  “Why do I have the feeling that you have more?”

  “Because I do. My boys also searched the Taurus thoroughly. They gave it the full crime scene treatment and found some very interesting things.”

  “Like what?”


  “Remnants of leaves and twigs in the trunk that sure look like that ‘Akia bush you brought in here.”

  “Holy shit!”

  “There’s more. Among the various cigarette butts in the car’s ashtray was a Camel, just like the one you found under the ‘Akia shrub. Sort of like another present under the Christmas tree, if you catch my drift.”

  “Can you do a DNA analysis on it?”

  “We’re examining both Camels to see whether we’ve got sufficient DNA material to perform an analysis.”

  “That’s great, Dave.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. There might still be a problem, even if we have enough DNA to identify its characteristics.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the national data bank of DNA characteristics is small compared with the national data bank of fingerprints. Congress passed a law in 2006 that lets the feds collect DNA samples from anyone they’ve arrested, just like they do with fingerprints, but they’ve got a long way to go to catch up with the fingerprint data.”

  “I see. You may be able to identify a set of DNA characteristics but not be able to match them with anyone, because that person’s DNA characteristics are not contained in the national data bank.”

  “Right. And if you don’t have anything to match that evidence with, you don’t have any useful evidence.”

  “So you need to find the person whose DNA matches the characteristics you get from the cigarette butts.”

  “Correctamundo.”

  “How about fingerprints?”

  “I thought you’d never ask. The car was loaded with fingerprints, which is no surprise because so many people have used it and touched it. But our crime scene search team is, at this very minute, trying to determine how many discrete sets of prints they can lift from the car.”

  “Well, I’m still working on some other leads. And I may have something more for you tomorrow.”

  “Keep at it, Jack, and you’ll have my job before you know it. In fact, we could switch jobs. I’d love to run that coffee plantation of yours.”