Vacations Can Be Murder: The Second Charlie Parker Mystery (6 page)

The hotel’s buildings surrounded the pool
area on three sides, the other side being the opening to the beach.
The whole courtyard was ringed by a colonnade with fat white
pillars holding up its roof. Under this roof, the non sun-lovers
could sink back into cushy upholstered couches and chairs, and get
the feeling they were at the pool without taking any chances.

Periodically, the white pillars veered from
their orderly circle to bulge out and form the roof for a bubbling
hot tub. I counted five such cauldrons.

All this nudged nicely into an area slightly
smaller than three football fields. I realized I better keep close
count of the mai tais or I wouldn't have the stamina for the hike
back to the elevators.

Three chapters into Clancy, I flipped from my
back onto my tummy, and three chapters later figured I better exit.
It would not do to let a massive sunburn ruin the evening. I
switched to a chair in the shade, and did a slow cool down before
going inside.

Back in my room, I indulged in a soothing
shower and a short nap before slipping on the green dress. By six
o’clock I was ready to meet Drake in the lobby.

He was handsome as ever in a different print
shirt and white slacks, which I gathered was standard attire here,
anytime day or night.

After ascertaining that I was game for almost
any kind of food, he took me to the Japanese Tea House. Except for
the bar just inside the front door, it was built like a real
Japanese house, or as close to one as I've ever seen.

A series of small rooms, open on one side,
faced into a small courtyard garden where small paths led over
miniature bridges to scaled-down groupings of plants. The other
three walls were those kind that look like lightweight wooden
frames with paper stretched over them. Surprisingly, it felt very
private.

The table was low with cushions on the floor
around it. My old stretched knee ligament groaned at the sight.
But, the seating was a trick. There was a pit under the table which
allowed us to sit at floor level with our legs under the table, as
if we were in chairs. My opinion of Officer Akito's forebears rose
several points.

We shared small talk over a plate of sushi
appetizers. Drake was in a good mood, I gathered because he now had
four days off. I related the gist of my meeting with the police,
leaving out a few of the choicer words.

"Akito's got it in for the helicopter
operators, anyway," he told me. "He's probably just pissed that
we're the ones who found the body."

"But, why? You helped make his job a little
easier, is all."

"Loss of face. It's important here."

I pondered that.

"Besides," he continued, "Akito and Mack had
a run-in a few years ago. I don't even remember what it was about
now. Mack and I were friends, but it was before I came to work for
him. Whatever it was though, the wound is still festering. Believe
me, there is no love lost between those two."

"Well, I can see Mack's side of it. Akito is
not exactly a warm and friendly kind of guy. I'd just as soon not
have my encounter at the police station be my strongest memory of
my week on Kauai."

His eyes held mine with a tangible firmness.
The candlelight softened his features, and illuminated his smile. I
swallowed hard. Suddenly a week wasn't long enough, even if we
could have magically created seventy-two hour days.

"Tell me about Charlie Parker," he said,
easing us away from a very intense moment.

"Charlotte Louise Parker was born in
Albuquerque, New Mexico, thirty years ago. I was the youngest of
three, and the only girl. In a situation like that, I suppose I
could have grown up fluffy and spoiled, but with two brothers as my
influence, it didn’t work out that way. I was a tough little
tomboy.”

I caught him glancing at the low-cut neckline
on my dress. He smiled. I cleared my throat.

“Seems like you outgrew the tomboy stage
pretty well,” he commented.

I could feel a red flush creep up my face. I
pulled my square wooden chopsticks from the wrapper, and rubbed
them together between my palms.

"My brothers are okay now, you understand.
They were just normal boys. Paul is married. Lives in Phoenix. Ron
is my partner in the agency. They're both good guys. I think they
took out all their childhood aggressions on me."

He chuckled. "I know. I guess I was the same
way with my sister. What about your parents?"

"My father was a physicist at Sandia labs. My
mother was a country-clubber whose family never let her forget that
she had married way beneath them. To them, even a scientist with a
PhD was still a working slob. Mother and Dad were killed in a plane
crash".

He started to say something sympathetic, but
I didn't give him the chance.

"I was sixteen, and I suppose I should have
been traumatized by it, but truthfully, the silence was kind of
nice. They left me the house, and enough money to get by on."

I didn't think it was the time to tell him
that "enough" meant a good sized portfolio of blue chip stocks.
Guys' personalities tend to undergo radical changes when they find
out you have a little nest egg. I helped myself to two more tempura
shrimp and another spoonful of some wonderfully gingery vegetable
dish.

"So now you investigate things for
supplemental income, or just for the sheer fun of it?"

"Some of each, I guess." I related the story
of how I'd saved Mrs. Higgins from her insurance agent. "She's like
a grandmother to me. Watches out for me like I was her own, and she
takes care of Rusty for me when I travel."

"Rusty? Your child?"

"My dog."

He smiled at that.

I told him a little about Rusty, and what a
softie he really is. The garden outside our little cubicle was
quiet, softly lit along its pathways. Miniature plants circled a
small pond whose waterfall flowed soothingly. Drake’s eyes met mine
and I had a strong sense that the attraction between us was
mutual.

"I've only come close to matrimony once." I
confessed. "I was engaged to my college sweetheart, Brad North. Two
weeks before the wedding, he eloped with my best friend, Stacy.
They live in a great big house in the most exclusive part of town.
Brad's a lawyer now. She drives a Mercedes, wears hunks of diamonds
on both hands, belongs to the country club, and looks absolutely
terrified whenever dear old Brad walks into the room. He’s put on
thirty pounds since I knew him; she has chronic dark circles under
her eyes, and I hear she practically lives on Valium. I shudder to
think how close I came to having all that."

He took my hand across the table. "I'm glad
Brad and Stacy eloped, too."

Dessert consisted of something white and
sticky and sweet enough to please even me.

Drake drove back to the hotel by way of the
small boat harbor. A sultry tropic breeze caressed my neck while we
stood for a few moments on the pier. Lights across the harbor shot
wavy ribbons of silver and gold out over the dark water.

Small sailboats rocked gently in their slips,
mooring lines creaking rhythmically. The barges and cargo vessels
were dark hulks, lacking activity, lit only by sodium vapor lights
lining the dock’s walkways.

In general, the area was quiet this time of
night, although we caught fragments of rock music from a club
somewhere in the distance. He put his arm around my shoulders and I
leaned into the comfort of it.

This time, he rode the elevator with me to
the seventh floor. I handed him my door key, and he graciously
unlocked it. His kiss was warm, making my insides feel the way hot
fudge looks when it slides off the ice cream and forms a puddle in
the dish. He broke away before I was quite ready.

"I'll call you tomorrow. Maybe we can take a
ride up into the mountains?"

I ran my fingers down the right side of his
face, and nodded. I stepped into my room and the door clicked
firmly between us. This was best. I'd already opened up to him more
than I usually do. Must be the tropical air.

I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and fell
into a pleasant saki-laden sleep, the faint scent of Drake's
aftershave clinging to my hair.

The ringing of the phone was harsh and
sudden, and I bounded up off the pillow before I had regained
consciousness. My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my
limbs, and it took me several seconds to figure out where I was.
The flashing red light led me to the offensive instrument.

"Hello?" My throat was thick with sleep, and
only the last part of the word came out.

"Charlie, it's Drake."

"Drake, what is it?" My fingers reached for
the lamp, almost knocking its oversized shade off. The sudden light
made my eyes slam back shut. My fingers groped around on the
nightstand for my travel alarm. Three o'clock. Ugh.

"...been arrested on suspicion of
murder."

I dragged myself back to the voice inside the
receiver. "Wait, Drake, what?"

"Mack! Mack has been arrested for the
murder."

Chapter 5

"When did this happen?" My brain cells were
finally beginning minimal function.

"Around midnight, I guess."

At midnight, he had been kissing me at my
door.

"Mack said the police came to his house late,
and took him downtown. They just now let him use the phone. Like he
was a menace to society, or something. Charlie, this is ridiculous.
I've got to help him."

I struggled to think. There wasn't much we
could do in the middle of the night, and I told him so. I suggested
that he meet me here at the hotel at six, and we'd go to the
station together. Surely, someone would be there so we could post
bond by seven or so. I could tell he was anxious to do something
right away, but he grudgingly agreed.

I set the travel alarm for five-thirty, and
fell back on my pillow, wondering how I manage to get so entangled
in other people's problems. I only wanted a vacation...

The alarm rang so quickly, I thought I had
mistakenly set the time wrong. But, no. It really was five-thirty.
I toyed with the idea of pretending I didn't live here anymore, but
gave it up.

Whether or not I got involved in Mack
Garvey's problems, I did want to see Drake again. As irritating as
it was to think of Akito and Mack and their little squabble, I
could appreciate Drake's loyalty to his friend.

He was waiting for me in the lobby, and I
suggested that we find some coffee before we tackled the forces in
blue. I reasonably pointed out that it was unlikely that we'd get
much action at the station before seven, and I don't function at
all well in the mornings without fuel. Besides, having breakfast
would give him a chance to fill me in on whatever I better know
before going up against Akito again.

Outside, the sky was pearl gray, the sun not
fully up yet. Banks of low dark clouds squatted on the horizon. It
was impossible to tell whether they would later move toward us, or
away. Rust colored mud puddles lined the uncurbed streets, the
remains of showers that had moved through sometime during the
night. The streets were quiet, traffic at a minimum in the
pre-dawn. The street lights began to shut off, one by one, as we
left the main drag and wound our way among the side streets.

A round woman in a purple flowered mumu stood
in her front yard an called to a little dog who was paying not the
slightest attention as he trotted away from her.

At the next house, a sleepy-looking man with
tousled hair padded out to the sidewalk in his rubber flip-flops.
He gazed around, perhaps searching for his morning paper. We passed
before he found it.

Drake took me to a tan cinderblock structure
called the Tip Top Bakery and Café. Paint flaked from the 50s style
building, leaving chips on the sidewalk and surrounding shrubbery
like dirty snow. Drake turned into the parking lot slowly, guiding
the truck between potholes. He assured me that it was much less
scary than it looked. I had to take his word for it—nothing else
was open.

There were only three cars in the lot at this
hour. Drake pulled his mini-pickup in beside them. They were
obviously all locals, not a red tourist convertible in sight.

There was a hulking old Plymouth Barracuda
beside me. Its door frame was intact, but not much else was. Ragged
bands of rust outlined the doors and the car's top. In its advanced
stage of leprosy, parts could begin falling off at any time. I
opened my door carefully to avoid touching it. It was probably
contagious, and I didn't want to take chances with Drake's
truck.

Inside, the cafe was one large room, divided
into a small section and a large one. The small side held a couple
of bakery cases and a shelf unit, empty now except for one loaf of
bread apparently left from yesterday. Heavenly smells from the
kitchen indicated that the shelves would soon be refilled.

A long counter with a dozen short stools
facing it ran the length of the back wall. Two of the stools were
occupied by men in work clothes. Each man had a cup of coffee, a
donut, and an open newspaper in front of him.

The remaining large section of the room was
filled with formica tables in assorted sizes. Either they catered
to big families here, or the banquet business was pretty hot.
Several of the tables were set to accommodate ten or twelve
people.

We took a booth near the windows, three
booths away from the only other patrons in the place. The vinyl
seat was cracked in a pattern like a broken windshield. The backs
of my legs were glad I hadn't worn shorts. Drake recommended the
macadamia nut pancakes and coffee and that sounded good to me.

"Okay," I began, "what evidence do they have
against Mack?"

He sighed. "Because there were no footprints
around the body, and it was nowhere near the hiking trail, they
conclude that the man was dropped from a helicopter."