Death in Paradise (11 page)

"Cross your heart?" I said, feeling foolish.

She nodded solemnly.

"It was pretty awful. She'd been strangled with her own stocking."

"Stocking?" Jonetta looked puzzled. "You mean her panty hose?"

I shook my head. "I guess it won't make any sense unless I tell you the whole thing. She was lying on the bed, on her back... kind of like she'd been arranged. She was dressed in this absurd outfit—red bustier and garter belt and thong panties and black stockings. Red stiletto heels. And posed on the bed in a very suggestive way... and then that bloated, strangled face." Now I saw it all again too clearly. "It was ugly, Netta. Very ugly." I felt a chill that wasn't the air-conditioning.

She nodded, slowly taking it all in, then patted my arm. "I'm sorry you had to see that... but..." Her silence was long.

"But what, Netta?"

"I'm ashamed to say this," she admitted.

"But?"

"Better you than most people. Were there any witnesses?"

"Not that I've heard about. But it... her room... there was food as though she was expecting somebody."

"Any idea who?"

"None. Well, I don't think..." Now mine was the long silence.

"Come on girl, spit it out," she said.

"Last night she left the restaurant with Lewis Broder...."

"That little weasel? No way. I might not have liked her, but the woman had taste. Look at that husband of hers. He's a fine piece of work."

"I know. But that's what I saw...."

"You tell the cops?"

"They didn't ask."

"And of course you didn't feel like volunteering anything."

"It wasn't that. But if I told them about Lewis... where would I stop? She also had a fight with Rory last night. And for that matter, with me."

"I see what you mean. And then you'd have to go on to the whole board, I suppose."

"That's what Jolene said at lunch. That each of us probably has a Martina story we'd rather not have reported to the police."

She nodded. "No rumors floating around about suspects?"

"Either there are none, or we're all suspects. I don't know. You know how the police work. They pick your bones bare and leave you behind and never tell you anything."

"Oh, honey, do I ever! Given my school's constituent group, I've got gentlemen and gentlewomen from the constabulary in and out of my office daily. Some of 'em are human, but a lot of 'em came from central casting or they've been watching too much TV, or... I don't know. They won't tell you anything even if it might help them, you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean. I've spent too much time with cops myself. They have a way of working you over without even touching you." It was true that since my sister Carrie's death, I'd spent an inordinate amount of time in the presence of cops. Most of it with Andre, and while that had started as business, it was now mostly pleasure, except when he had one of his pig-headed moments of macho protectiveness, which he would characterize as my pig-headed moments of foolish feminist assertiveness. But there had been other cops, too, not nearly as attractive or personable as Andre. And basically, I don't like cops. I don't like authority figures. I don't like being told what to do.

"Yeah, I saw how Shannon looked," Netta said. "She's some mad at you for managing to escape."

"It's not like I didn't log in my time with the police." Her eyebrows went up. I told her the story of the stolen speech and the Cinderella shoe, the long grilling, the birthday flowers, and the cop's parting warning about not telling anyone anything, as well as his admonition not to make him mad.

She shook her head so vehemently her earrings jingled like wind chimes. "On your birthday?" She spread her arms wide. "Come here and have a hug, honey. You sure have had a bad day." I don't accept hugs from just anyone, but in my book, getting a hug from your hero, getting sympathy from someone who sees life's dark side all the time, is A-okay. I went and was hugged and felt comforted.

"I hardly dare ask," she said, "is everything else all right?"

"Well, this ultraluxurious hotel can't count. Last night we ended up with twenty-five people standing after we'd been seated for dinner, and the luau tonight would have been a disaster if I hadn't called. They'd taken our count of two hundred eighty-five and converted it to two hundred. I think they ought to give me a medal or something. After all, the eighty-five hungry, angry people would have been on their backs, not mine."

"Don't hold your breath. But why were you dealing with that stuff? Isn't that Rory's job? I notice you've barely mentioned Rory. Let me guess...." She touched a fingertip to her forehead and closed her eyes. "Ah, yes..." Suddenly her rich voice changed to a perfect Scottish accent. "The puir wee thing has taken to her bed."

I laughed for the first time all day. "Exactly. Well, not exactly. There's something strange going on there."

"I'm not surprised. Working with Martina has made her nuts. What surprises me is that you didn't just give her a swat on the rear and tell her to buck up and get on with it."

"Oh, I did. Her getting on with it worked just long enough to get the files up on her computer. Then she declared that I was hateful and lacked empathy, burst into tears, and locked herself in the bathroom."

Jonetta gave a decisive shake of her head, setting her earrings ajingle again. "Hard to get good help these days." She giggled. "Listen to me! I'm almost as insensitive as you, aren't I? What about the rest of the crew? Shall I show you what a brilliant people person I am and tell you how everyone is behaving?"

"You could, but it's pretty predictable...."

"Sure. Zannah is waxing eloquent. Shannon is ebullient and curious. Jolene is trying to keep the peace, and Rob is protecting himself with sarcasm. Right?"

"Damn, you're good. What does that mean you say about me?"

"And Thea's running around trying to fix everything."

"Double damn."

There was a knock at the door. "Wow," she said, "that was fast. Maybe if they can't count, they can at least cook."

I answered the door and there stood the cop again. Detective Kane Nihilani. I didn't think I'd done anything wrong, but someone must have. He didn't look like a happy camper.

 

 

 

Chapter 7

 

He marched into the room, looking like the wrath of God, and backing me before him like a leaf before the wind. "What were you doing outside Martina Pullman's room at one-thirty this morning?" he demanded.

"Nothing," I said. "I wasn't there."

"That's not what I hear."

I had no response to that. My experience with policemen investigating murders is that they like to play their cards close to the vest, whatever that means. To me, it meant that they liked to ask a lot of questions that I was supposed to answer frankly, totally, and honestly, without being allowed to know a goddamned thing about what was going on. To the old advice about never eating at a place called Mom's, never playing poker with a man named Doc, and never sleeping with anyone who's crazier than you are, I always add, and never let a cop put words in your mouth. Rephrase, qualify, and clarify, if necessary. And where no response is called for, give none. Some of Mother Kozak's rules for life. He was waiting and I wasn't even hissing softly, though that's what I wanted to do. Let him wait.

He was so intent on intimidating me that he still hadn't noticed Jonetta. Either as a courtesy or because she's not used to being invisible, at least not since she became a grown-up and found her voice, she jangled her earrings nice and loudly so he couldn't help but hear. He swung around like he'd been bitten and stared at her. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said. "I'd like to be alone with Ms. Kozak."

"Not on your life," she said. "You come in here yelling at that poor girl and bullying her, after the day she's had, and on her birthday, too, and if you think I'm going to walk out and leave you alone with her, you must be crazy!" She got up and sashayed over, planted her hands on her hips, and looked him up and down like he was a tidbit presented for consumption. The she stuck out a hand. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Jonetta Williamson."

What else could he do? He took it. "Detective Kane Nihilani, Maui police. I don't want to be rude, but I do need to speak with Ms. Kozak alone. Police business."

"Why does she need to be alone?" Oh, man, I loved this woman. She did naturally and with ease things it would take me an afternoon of sweating to work myself up to. Maybe it came from dealing with cops every day.

"I'm investigating a... an incident in the hotel. Ms. Kozak is a valuable source of information."

She gave an eloquently disdainful sniff. "You're calling Martina's death an 'incident,' Detective? You make it sound so trivial. Personally, I don't find murder at all trivial. I find it depressing and shocking. I find it shakes the foundations of one's self, especially when you know the victim, as Thea and I did." She put a hand on his shoulder and pressed him into a chair. "You seem convinced that Thea isn't telling you the truth. In my experience, Thea is as honorable a young woman as you are ever likely to meet. Too honorable, if anything. I doubt if she'd lie to you. Once we've talked this over calmly, I'm sure a reasonable explanation will be found."

"As to honorable, I won't go into an incident this morning when she stole some papers from the victim's room. I'm not here to have a group discussion," he began. "I merely want to ask Ms. Kozak a few—" There was a knock at the door. "Ignore it," he said.

"Hardly," Jonetta said. "That's my lunch and I'm starving." She lumbered to the door and threw it open, admitting an admiring waiter pushing a small cart. "Thank goodness you've come," she said, "I was dying. Thea, you want to sign for this?"

I was happy to. I would have bought her the whole hotel in return for the past few minutes. The baffled look on the detective's face would stay with me for a long time. Of course, I knew he'd get me later, if he had the chance, but for now, I had a protectress as fierce as any lioness, and I was enjoying myself. I signed the slip, gave the waiter a generous tip, and closed the door. By the time I'd returned, Jonetta was halfway through her first sandwich, and Nihilani was staring in a puzzled way at the glass of lemonade in his hand.

Since the two chairs were taken, I sat on the foot of the bed and waited. He drank some lemonade, set the glass down, and tried again. "Where were you at one-thirty a.m. this morning?"

I patted the bed. "Here. Asleep."

"How do you know?"

"What do you mean, how do I know? I was asleep. All I can say is that I have no history of sleepwalking. No one has ever reported finding me out of my bed when I thought I was in it. And that's where I was when I fell asleep. Here in this bed."

"At what time?"

"About twelve-thirty."

"Alone?"

I bounced to my feet. "What kind of question is that? You talked with Andre earlier, right? Andre, the state police detective? Andre Lemieux, the man I love? The man I live with. You know I live with the guy, right?" If anything, he was looking even more surprised than when Jonetta had lit into him.

People make a lot of mistakes about me. People think, because I work hard and try to be agreeable, that I'm a pushover. People think, because I have a large chest, that I must be dumb. People think, because I'm young and attractive, that I'm sweet. People can be wrong. As my aunt used to say, I have quite a little temper. And here in Hawaii, the land of volcanoes, I was erupting. "You think I nipped off to Hawaii for a little something on the side, is that what you're asking?" Detective Kane Nihilani had pushed the wrong button. "What the hell is this, some kind of weird brotherhood thing? You think you ought to check up on me because he's a fellow cop? Just what are you suggesting with a remark like that? I thought you had a murder to investigate? So why the hell are you wasting both of our time trying to investigate an imaginary person in my bed. Don't you have better things to do?"

I had had a hard day. I'd endured the shock of finding a body, a wrestling match with Rory, the stress of having to give an important speech at the last minute, the duress of a lengthy police interrogation, I'd had a gruesome nightmare, much of the burden of running the conference had fallen on my shoulders, as well as a second unpleasant confrontation with Rory, and a struggle with the hotel's convention planners. I was in no mood to have a stranger marching in, yelling at me and accusing me of being a liar, and topping it off by accusing me of infidelity.

I walked over and opened the door. "Get out," I said. He didn't move. "I know you're not hard of hearing. I'm asking you to leave."

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that... I was just—"

"Oh, save it for some sweet young thing who still thinks cops are those nice people who help you cross the street on your way home from school. I wasn't born yesterday. I know you guys, remember? I know how you work. I know that you'll do any damned thing you can get away with if you think it'll help you solve a crime. I know the sorts of things you'll do to shock people into talking. I know you don't care about my feelings and it doesn't matter what you do to me... or to anyone else... if you think—"