Too Hot Four Hula: 4 (The Tiki Goddess Mystery Series) (22 page)

“Were you mad enough about the theft and extortion to kill Johnson?”

“I wouldn’t have killed him even if I had known he was the thief and extortionist. We didn’t see the video tape of him at the front desk until
after
we left the murder scene today. The playback cameras were down until then. I had no idea he was the thief until this afternoon. I suspected it was one of the contestants.”

Bardon turned to Roland, who nodded.

“That still from the video is practically fresh out of the printer,” Roland told him.

“We have no proof of what was in those envelopes Johnson dropped off or even if they were the ones delivered to your uncle and dePesto,” Bardon said.

“We found Felicity Duncan,” Roland said. “She let me question her. She said your men had already interviewed her.”

Bardon flipped through his notebook pages until he found what he was looking for. “What’d you get?”

Roland read his own notes. “When the hotel blew the whistle on Johnson’s bad credit she threw him out. That’s when he must have rented the apartment. That was early afternoon, sometime after they left the Halekulai where he met and had lunch with Em. Ms. Duncan said she joined them and met Mrs. Johnson. Then last evening the fiancée met up with a hotel guest whose son was married there yesterday.”

“He invited her to the reception last night,” Bardon filled in.

“And ended up spending the night in his suite,” Roland finished.

“She felt so bad about dumping her fiancé she just didn’t want to be alone.” Bardon almost smiled.

“She
said
that?” Em tried to see his notes.

“No. That was me being sarcastic,” Bardon said.

“The father of the groom didn’t appear to be just any guy. Did your men meet him?”

“No, they talked to her alone but they got a name. Hasigawa, a Japanese visitor.”

“Right. A visitor with a bodyguard. I’m thinking they could be Yakuza.”

Bardon nodded. “I didn’t know about the bodyguard. We’ll check it out, but for now Duncan still has a solid alibi. Hasigawa is probably here on a travel visa. We’re checking.”

“I don’t think he’d lie for her,” Roland said.

Bardon turned to Em. “Why didn’t you tell me you were taken to the Waikiki substation by Hilton security last night?”

“I wasn’t arrested. It was all a big mistake,” she said.

“I just spoke to Chun. Attempted burglary, right?”

“I didn’t burgle anything. I was looking for the stolen notebook. You can’t steal something that belongs to you. He didn’t book me.”

Bardon pulled a folded piece of copy paper out of his pocket and slid it over to Em. “This is a copy of a letter we found in Johnson’s apartment. He wrote it to you.”

“Me?” Her voice broke on the word. She didn’t want to touch it.

“Want me to read it to you?” Roland asked.

Though the detective knew what was in it, Em hated reading the letter with Bardon sitting there. There was no telling what Phillip had written. She picked it up, read in silence.

Dearest Em,

Seeing you today reminded me of all I lost because of my own stupidity. I am so sorry for ruining our lives, bankrupting us, and most of all, embarrassing you. Hurting you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but I am willing to change my life if you’ll give me another chance. I know I broke your heart and don’t deserve you, but today I got the feeling you might still love me and want to reconcile. Please, if there is any hope, just say the word.

Phillip

“
What
?” Em looked up in shock. “He’s crazy. In no way did I act like I wanted to reconcile. That’s the last thing on earth I’d ever want!” She handed the letter to Roland. He scanned it.

Bardon pushed the empty
pupu
plate aside and leaned forward. “You can both see how a prosecutor would have a field day with this one. Your husband admitted he ruined your life, bankrupted you, and broke your heart. Let’s say you did still have feelings for him. Then you met him for lunch and saw him with a beautiful fiancée. He appeared to have money again. Furious, blinded by jealousy and revenge, you tracked him down and killed him.”

Em was too livid to cry.

“How?”
She raised her voice. Roland laid his hand on her forearm. She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. “How could I have tracked him down in Honolulu after he left the Moana? Come on. That’s insane.”

Bardon wouldn’t back off. “Maybe he contacted you to tell you he’d moved out of the Moana and that his engagement was over. We’ll check your cell phone records. Maybe he told you where he moved to. Besides, you’re good at playing detective. I googled you and
Garden Island
archive articles came up. It seems you and your friends are always playing amateur detective. You all even received a proclamation from the mayor honoring you for helping solve a recent murder case on Kauai.”

“Everyone receives a proclamation from the mayor,” Roland said.

Bardon ignored him and kept badgering Em. “Maybe you thought you were so good at crime fighting that you could get away with murder.”

Roland leaned across the table and got in the detective’s face.

“Come on, Bardon. Back off. Are you even looking for Bautista?”

“Of course. We’re just not finding him. We found his car abandoned up by Punchbowl. He didn’t show up for work today.”

“Where does he work?” Roland demanded.

“He’s a line cook at La Mariana Sailing Club, a restaurant connected to a small marina near Sand Island,” Bardon said.

Yet another stop on Em’s tiki bar tour that she wasn’t going to get to research while she was here.

“Do you have men watching Bautista’s apartment at the Lokelani?”

“We already got a warrant. My men searched the place and said it’s obvious he doesn’t live there. He only uses it for a storage shed. There’s not even a bed in the place. It’s piled with boxes full of garage sale stuff and what they described as tourist information crap. Old books. Magazines. It’s a definite hoarding situation. The neighbors confirmed he doesn’t live there. Some of them never laid eyes on him until they saw him and Johnson yelling at each other in the street.

“We’re trying to find out if Bautista has any family on island. No one at La Mariana knows where he lives. He pretty much goes to work, does his job, and keeps to himself. Much like you, Ms. Johnson, the folks who work with him claim Bautista’s not capable of murder.”

“What about Felicity Duncan?” Em knotted her fingers together below the tabletop.

“As you know, her whereabouts last night are accounted for,” Bardon said.

“Her claim that Johnson misrepresented himself is certainly motive,” Roland reminded him.

Bardon nodded. “So far her alibi is airtight. We can’t place her at the scene.”

“You can’t place me there either,” Em said.

“We’re not going to stop looking for Bautista. Someone killed your ex-husband, Mrs. Johnson. Hopefully it won’t take long to find out who. As soon as I have one shred of concrete evidence, we’ll make an arrest.”

“When you find the notebook, will you let us know?” Roland asked.

“Sure.” Bardon folded the copy of Phillip’s letter along with the printout from the security camera. “But even if we find it, we’ll have to hold it as evidence.”

“Understood,” Roland said.

“I trust you won’t let Mrs. Johnson out of your sight.”

Roland assured him that he wouldn’t. After the detective walked away, Roland turned to Em and slipped his arm around her shoulder in a surprising public display of affection. “This is going to be the easiest assignment I’ve ever had.” He pulled her closer.

She found herself fighting tears. “Will you visit me in prison?”

“Sure. I know some pretty creative ways to smuggle in a key.”

32

THE SUN WAS SETTING, and the tiki torches were lit when Kiki and the Maidens, along with their new sidekicks, the Kamakanis, arrived at Tiki’s Grill and Bar on the second floor lanai of the Waikiki Beach Hotel.

The girls were outfitted to the hilt in matching red and white print skirts with black sleeveless tops. The Kamakanis stood around intimidating lingering tourists until they left, and the group commandeered eight tables.

Near the Diamond Head end of the strip, the restaurant overlooked both Kalakaua Avenue and the beach. Giant carved tikis greeted guests at the entrance and were scattered around the lanai and the inside dining room. Tiki masks and artifacts from all over Polynesia decorated the walls. Colorful rows of tiki mugs lined the bar.

A trio of young Hawaiians was playing contemporary rock/ Hawaiian tunes on a small stage the size of a slice of
sashimi
. They weren’t great, but they were loud enough that everyone had to shout to be heard. The only thing Kiki admired about them was the pattern on the fabric of their aloha shirts.

The Maidens all ordered Ocean Potions, drinks made with three kinds of rum, three liqueurs, and a splash of pineapple juice served in coconut shells. They ordered every
pupu
on the menu until their tables were littered with plates of torched
ahi
, coconut shrimp,
poisson cru
, a Tahitian version of ceviche, and prime rib
poke
.

After a couple of Ocean Potions each, the gals were cackling like a yard full of Kauai hens. Most of the newly arrived guests seated at nearby tables were tourists. They didn’t even pretend not to be watching the Maidens’ every move.

Feeling no pain, Kiki decided it was high time to call a Hula Maiden meeting to order. She tapped her fork against her water glass until she had the others’ attention. Then she leaned in close to the table and lowered her voice. “Can everybody hear me?”

Most of them nodded. Little Estelle’s scooter was parked at the end of the table. She’d spent a long day partying with the Shriners and threw a fit when Big Estelle insisted she leave the Hilton. Now she was passed out on her tray.

Precious had to kneel on her chair so that she could lean in closer.

“What’s up?” Pat wanted to know.

“We have to put our heads together and help Louie,” Kiki said.

“Help him what?” Big Estelle reached for a coconut shrimp and popped it into her mouth.

Kiki sipped on the straw sticking out of the coconut shell before she explained. “He has to get his Booze Bible back. Tomorrow’s Saturday. We leave on Sunday. There’s no time to waste.”

“Do you have a plan?” Trish wanted to know.

“Of course. I had Suzi google some info about the murder while she was laid up today. So far the police haven’t found the notebook. They haven’t found the neighbor yet who argued with Em’s ex either. The police are calling him a
person of interest
, which is police code for the sucker did it. Suzi got the address of the apartment building where it took place. I think it’s time we go undercover.”

“Em said not to do anything,” Trish reminded her.

“When do we ever listen?”

“Sounds like good advice to me,” Lillian sniffed. Her entire neck was streaked with melting foundation. No one had the heart to tell her, fearing the waterworks she’d turn on.

“We can’t go undercover anymore. We’re
the
Hula Maidens now.” Big Estelle waved her hand around, pointing out all the people staring at them.

“Going undercover is a figure of speech. We’ll get into that apartment as ourselves. We can’t just sit around and let Louie down,” Kiki said. “Who knows? Maybe if we help solve the case we’ll get a proclamation from the mayor of Honolulu.”

“Or the governor,” Flora added.

“So what’s the plan?” Four empty coconuts were lined up in front of Pat, who cradled her injured hand in her lap.

“You and I will pump Em for some info in the a.m., and then we’ll all head over to the murder scene and see if we can come up with some clue the police overlooked.” Kiki adjusted the huge faux floral hairpiece pinned near her left ear.

“We should have brought our two-way radios,” Pat said.

“Who knew we’d have to fight crime on vacation?” Trish said.

“Crime never takes a vacation,” Kiki said.

Lillian raised her hand. “I vote we don’t do this. Em has Roland and the whole HPD here to solve the murder.”

“Em’s not herself. She has too much to worry about right now to be thinking straight,” Kiki said. “Anyone who doesn’t want to go on the reconnaissance mission tomorrow, raise your hand.”

Lillian started to raise her hand until Big Estelle shot her a nasty glare, and she lowered it again.

“Great. Then we’re all in agreement.” Kiki ate the last coconut shrimp and looked around for the waitress. “Pat and I will get as much info out of Em as we can before we take off in the van in the morning. All of you need to be dressed and ready by nine.”

Flora moaned. “Nine? In the
morning
?”

“Okay, then make it ten. Now, on to our next topic of discussion,” Kiki said.

“When do we start dancing?” Flora wanted to know.

“Well . . . that’s the next topic. There could be a
little
problem,” Kiki began.

“Don’t tell me,” Trish said. “You don’t have permission from management, do you?”

“No, but after casing the joint, I’ve decided if we leave a lookout on the corner of the balcony overlooking Kalakaua, she can give the high sign if the cops leave the substation across the street and head this way.”

Kiki sent Pat over to the Kamakanis to tell them to take over the stage as soon as the rock trio took a break. Then she looked around for the waitress to order another drink. A young man wearing a black Tiki’s staff shirt walked up to Kiki with a big smile on his face.

“I’d like to order one more of those coconut bowl concoctions.” She batted her false lashes. “How much longer until these guys take a break?”

He glanced at his watch. “About five minutes. Are they too loud for you, ma’am?”

“Five minutes, that’s great. They’re not too loud, just not my style. You know what they say? If it’s too loud, you’re too old.”

“I never heard that one, auntie,” he said.

“Is your manager around? If he is, I’d like to talk to him for a minute,” Kiki said.

“I’m sorry. I hope everything is all right for you tonight.”

“Perfect, I just have a question.”

She was happy that he didn’t press her about her question. He’d no sooner walked away than an older version of the waiter came up to the table also wearing a black shirt with the Tiki Grill and Bar logo embroidered on it.