Wings in the Dark (10 page)

Fanny was suggesting Kalua had considered pulling the plug on his group's financial support. If that was true, Amelia might've had a motive to murder Hank. I couldn't imagine anyone believing that slice of baloney, except maybe a cop. “But Amelia brought press from papers all across America. Aviation will get quite a boost with Amelia Earhart as the pilot.”

“Not if she doesn't make it.”

I wasn't sure whether she was telling the truth or not. “Kalua wanted someone less famous…someone like you, I suppose.”

Fanny shrugged. “As a matter of fact, he did. Hank suggested I'd make the perfect person to attempt the crossing.”

I couldn't help but chuckle. “Were you two standing when he made that suggestion?” When she didn't reply, I glanced toward the bedroom.

This time she slapped my face.

I ignored the sting like it hadn't happened. “He was just stringing you along.”

She wiped a tear from her eye with Laura's hankie.

I turned to Billy, who was staring blankly across the room. “Did Kalua say any of this to Amelia or George?”

“What?”

I repeated the question.

“I'm George's personal secretary. I'd have known if he had.”

Fanny handed Laura the hankie. “You all need to leave.”

I wasn't through. I peered out the window, hoping to get all the important questions answered in case the cops showed up. “Miss Chandler, do you own a gun?”

Fanny faced me with red eyes. A trembling hand went to her face. “What?”

“Gun, a pistol, a piece, a roscoe.”

She stepped toward the kitchen. “I keep it in the cupboard.”

I grabbed her arm and stopped her. “I'll get it.”

Fanny sank back into the chair. “It's in a box behind the coffee.”

I opened the cupboard and stared at what might be the murder weapon. I took out a pen from the inside pocket of my jacket and slipped it into the barrel of the revolver. I lifted it enough to confirm the gun was loaded. I had no idea what type of gun killed Kalua. The cops probably didn't either, yet, but they would.

Fanny covered her mouth with a trembling hand. “I keep it for protection. A gal can't be too careful.”

I put the gun back and closed the drawer. “Where did you get it?”

She stared at her hands, which began to tremble. “You probably have a good idea. You seem to know everything about me.”

Not everything, but I knew her better now than when I left the hangar a few hours earlier. “Hank Kalua gave it to you, didn't he?”

Fanny nodded.

Laura shook her head. “Oh, Fanny.”

Things didn't look good for Fanny, but she'd answered every question without clamming up. She lied plenty, but I still didn't know whether she killed her lover or not.

I checked my watch. It was after midnight. I didn't want us to be here when the cops arrived. “How fast did you realize Kalua wasn't going to leave his wife?”

“He never said, but a girl knows, right, Miss Wilson?”

Laura held up both hands. “Don't ask me.”

“Here's what I think.”

Fanny's eyes widened as I spelled it out.

“You put the screws to your boyfriend, Hank Kalua, two ways when it became obvious he wasn't going to replace Amelia with you or make you the next Mrs. Kalua. So you suggested the two of you have a talk, alone. You invited him to the hangar, knowing Amelia would be going over a last-minute checklist with her plane. When he showed up, you shot him with the gun he gave you. You hurried to your car, but before you could drive away, George appeared and saw you so you got out as if you'd just arrived.”

“If I did what you say, why would I keep a murder weapon in my drawer? I only used it once, two weeks ago at a firing range Hank took me to.” Fanny paced the room, muttering to herself.

She froze as if an idea popped into her head. “You should talk to his brother!”

I intended to, but I didn't want Fanny to know that. “Why?”

“They fought constantly. Hank was patriarch of a large
ohana
.”

“Ohana?”

“An extended family.” She poured herself another drink. “Hank and his family were concerned about the friends his brother, Ihe, kept.”

“What friends?”

“The Royalists.”

I played dumb like I didn't know anything about them. “Who are the Royalists?”

“Islanders who want the monarchy back. They blame the United States and local leaders like Hank, who made his fortune associating with American business interests, for helping overthrow the monarchy. Ihe and the Royalists are…fanatics.”

Fanatics? Fanatical enough to kill someone who opposed their political plans and smart enough to try to frame Amelia Earhart? “And they just happened to shoot him in the hangar next to Amelia's plane.”

Fanny nodded. “Sure, and make it appear Amelia shot him so the flight would never happen.”

I wasn't sure how to separate the lies from the truth, but she'd given us enough to check on. I grabbed my hat from the table.

“That's it?” Laura tugged me aside and spoke softly. “Jake, she's lying.”

“Maybe.”

Fanny's mouth dropped open as if the only person in the room who understood her had betrayed her. “I didn't kill Hank Kalua.”

It was hard believing someone who'd spent the last half hour dodging the truth. “Miss Chandler, I suggest you get your story straight before the police arrive.” I checked the time again. “Which could be any minute.”

“There's no story, Mr. Donovan.” Fanny opened the door. As we walked out, she leaned against the doorframe, showing some cleavage. “I have nothing to hide.”

I felt sorry for Billy, who walked with his head down when we left Fanny Chandler's apartment. I'd never have guessed there was a romantic relationship between Putnam's personal secretary and Amelia's mechanic.

Fanny had shattered Billy's heart. I knew a thing or two about broken hearts. Laura broke mine more than once, but things eventually worked out for us.

As we headed back to the Oldsmobile without speaking, I thought about the gun Fanny kept in her kitchen drawer, her double life as mechanic and femme fatale, her affair with a married Honolulu businessman twice her age, and her relationship with Billy, at least five years younger. She'd given me plenty of reasons to suspect she killed Kalua and tried to frame Amelia for the murder.

Fanny's lies and deceit made her appear as guilty as a little girl denying she'd shown her panties to the neighbor boy, but she wasn't the first dame with secret lovers. It was hard to picture her putting a couple of slugs into an important Honolulu businessman. However, my experience told me no one looked the part.

I'd worked cases with plenty of unlikely suspects: housewives, jockeys, and librarians who blew friends' or lovers' brains out. I also knew thick-necked bouncers who couldn't stand the sight of blood. These days one couldn't tell the good guys from the bad by looking at them. Stockbrokers looked like, and these days often were, hobos. Plenty of bankers wore frayed cuffs and ate at soup kitchens, and I'd just seen a female mechanic transformed into the girl next door.

Would someone who murdered a lover and tried to frame Amelia Earhart act so obviously guilty? Like a lot of women these days, Fanny smoked cigarettes and drank whiskey, but that didn't make her a killer. She was a dame who'd made mistakes in life and plenty of slipups in Hawaii the cops wouldn't ignore.

She'd entertained Kalua and at least one other man, Billy, in her apartment. She kept a gun, which might be the murder weapon, in her kitchen. She admitted being jealous of Amelia with little prodding and yet…

I glanced back to her front door. If Fanny didn't shoot Kalua, who did? Kalua's brother, Ihe, and the Royalists might have been motivated to kill Kalua. Until I visited their hangout, I couldn't be sure. I couldn't shake the image of a group of old guys longing for the good old days.

The killer shot Kalua in the back and put a second bullet in his head for good measure then disappeared without being seen or leaving any evidence behind. That didn't sound like someone's brother or a woman scorned. Even with one missed shot, the murder seemed like the work of a pro.

We reached the Olds. Billy smoothed his suit coat and straightened his tie before slipping into the backseat.

Laura gazed at me over the top of the car. “Why would Fanny think I've had experience with married men?”

“You've slept with a married man, sweetheart…for the past week.”

With a smirk, Laura climbed into the front seat, and I sat behind the wheel. I handed Laura her gun and she slipped it into her purse.

Billy's gloomy mood vanished. He didn't look like a kid whose heart had been handed to him on a platter. “We should call the cops and let them get the truth from Miss Chandler, but I wouldn't rule out the Royalists either. What do you think, Mr. Donovan?”

The kid's reaction didn't surprise me. It was his way of dealing with the pain of rejection.

“The cops will be here soon enough. We'll stick around to see if she leaves before that happens. I'd like to find out where she was going when she got all dolled up.”

Laura shot me a look of disapproval. Maybe I shouldn't have brought that up, for Billy's sake.

He met my gaze in the rearview mirror. “You think she was telling the truth, Mr. Donovan?”

Some of what the woman said might have been on the up-and-up, but she also told plenty of whoppers. The challenge was to separate fact from fiction.

Laura hadn't shared her feelings about Fanny, but I had a good idea what they were.

“What do you think, sweetheart?”

“I hope so.” Laura stifled a yawn. “Because if Fanny didn't do it, it means the killer's still out there, trying to stop Amelia's flight across the Pacific. Her life would still be in danger.”

If she ever got out of the movie business, my wife would make a damn good detective.

She gave Billy a sympathetic look. “I'm sorry about…about Fanny.”

Didn't she realize the kid wouldn't want to revisit what happened? Why didn't women appreciate that men weren't anxious to talk about their feelings, especially when they were hurting?

Billy stared at his hands. “We didn't want anyone to know.”

“What about Amelia and George?” Laura asked.

“Especially them. Miss Earhart would never approve, and Mr. Putnam has rules about that sort of thing. If he finds out, we could lose our jobs.”

He'd find out for sure, but I hoped Putnam wouldn't fire Billy.

Laura gave me that
say something
expression women used.

I wasn't one to give advice on broken hearts. “I'm sure it hurts finding out this way, but it's better you know the truth about a woman like that.”

Billy cocked his head. “A woman like…like what?”

A dame who made you feel like you were the only one while entertaining the rest of your football team. “Some women, like Fanny, you'll be with because they can show you a good time. Others”—I reached for Laura's hand—“are the marrying kind, like Laura.”

“I didn't show you a good time?” Laura snatched her hand back. “You make me sound like Betty Crocker.”

I'd walked into another trap. I should never try to explain relationships, especially in front of Laura. She'd shown me plenty of good times. “Of course, but you're the exception.”

Laura wasn't buying it, and I didn't think she would. She moved farther away from me.

Billy cleared his throat. “Do you mind if we don't talk about Fanny and me?”

Laura stifled a yawn and rested her head on the passenger door.

Her breathing slowed as she dozed. I checked my watch. At this hour, we should be cuddling under the sheets instead of keeping Billy company.

Back in the day, I dreaded stakeouts. They often involved long hours of staring at front doors. So far Fanny hadn't left and the cops hadn't arrived.

In the rearview mirror, I could see Billy writing in a notepad. A report for George Putnam, no doubt.

The day had been a long one, full of twists and turns. I covered a yawn.

When Billy cleared his throat, I was remembering Laura's freckles and their various locations.

“You say something, Billy?”

“No. I just thought you fell asleep.”

“I do my best thinking with my eyes shut.” Talking often kept me alert. “You did a bang-up job tonight, Billy.”

He closed the notepad. “Thanks, Mr. Donovan. I have to say I was impressed by your…insight.”

“I learned a lot about people during the Great War in Europe. I discovered men mostly fell into two categories: guys who longed to marry their high-school sweethearts and those who wanted to sleep with a movie star every night.” I glanced at Laura, who was still asleep. “It took a while, but I managed to do both when I married Laura. A chump from Queens, I'm the luckiest man in America.”

“I'm not lucky when it comes to girls.”

“How'd you and Fanny get together? I don't want to pry, but I need to understand her.”

Billy nodded. “I get it. When Mr. Putnam hired me, Fanny worked for Miss Earhart and hung out in airplane hangars. My father taught me about engines and mechanics, so whenever Mr. Putnam sent me to the hangar, I stopped by to see what Fanny was up to. Fanny's an excellent pilot. She'd take Miss Earhart's Vega up for tests before she'd let Miss Earhart climb into the cockpit. I could see right away she was an excellent mechanic…”

“So you were smitten by her mechanical ability.”

Billy laughed. “Well, she was the only one around even close to my age and she flirted with me whenever I visited. Girls in college don't flirt with me much.”

Billy, Amelia, and her husband trusted Fanny, a situation that would provide an opportunity for her to sabotage the plane.

“One night I was working late. I dropped by the hangar in Los Angeles to deliver a message from Mr. Putnam to Miss Earhart. Fanny needed a ride back to her place. She invited me in and…one thing led to another.”

“Tell me about the mechanical problems the plane has experienced since you arrived in Hawaii.”

“Little things at first. Nothing major until a week ago. Fanny replaced some hydraulic lines then took the plane up for a shakedown flight. Everything seemed okay. That afternoon, Miss Earhart took her up and lost hydraulic pressure. She nearly crashed on landing.” He glanced toward Fanny's apartment. “Fanny was…probably with Mr. Kalua, so Miss Earhart found a hose that had worked its way loose.”

Or someone loosened it, someone like the plane's mechanic. “Did anyone mention the incident to Detective Tanaka tonight?”

“I doubt it. Mr. Putnam and Miss Earhart trust Fanny completely. I don't think anyone suspected there could be a connection until now.”

There was a good chance Tanaka's investigation would eventually make the link, further sealing Fanny's fate.

“Fanny got back later that evening and felt awful. She stayed up all night fixing the problem, double-checking everything and, like she does, took the plane up the next morning. Things have worked okay since. Mr. Putnam thought the problems were caused by the voyage.”

“How'd he get that idea?”

Billy had a blank stare. “Fanny.”

I felt sorry for what Fanny had done to Billy. He needed to get his mind off her. “When did George Putnam hire you as his personal secretary?”

“He knows my father. Mr. Putnam hired me as an office gofer as a favor. Over the next twelve months, I worked hard, proved myself, and when I got into Yale I convinced him he needed a part-time personal secretary.”

“In one year.”

“I'm good at what I do, Mr. Donovan.” Billy smiled for the first time since we'd left Fanny's apartment. “Haven't you noticed?”

I had. “Why prelaw?”

“Something wrong with lawyers?”

Attorneys I met earned the nickname
shark
for a reason. “Your father must be very proud.”

Billy hesitated. “He passed away last year.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Ever hear of Thomas Thornton?”

“Can't say that I have.”

“Thomas Thornton, my father, was an adventurer who was rarely home when I was growing up. I was raised by my mother until she passed away and I went to live with my aunt. Anyway, a couple of years ago, my father teamed up with another explorer of some note, Richard Byrd. Ever heard of
him
?”

“Sure.”

Byrd was a famous aviator and Arctic and Antarctic explorer, but a year earlier things hadn't gone well in the Antarctic and he'd almost died.

“Your father was part of Byrd's Antarctic expedition last year?”

“He was. When my father returned, he was hit by a bus and killed. Oh, the irony, huh? My father died trying to…I don't know what he was trying to prove, but he made enough money to send me to the best schools. I got into Yale early, in part on the recommendation of Mr. Byrd and Mr. Putnam, who was trying to get Byrd to write a book.”

“It must have been tough losing a father at your age.”

Billy stared out the car window for several moments, then regained his composure. “I admired him, but didn't want to be like him, you know? I want to be someone a little more grounded.”

A black sedan pulled up in front of Fanny's apartment. Detective Tanaka and the other detective, Pete, hurried to Fanny's door and knocked.

She opened the door and let the men inside.

“You're pretty good, Mr. Donovan. Maybe you should've stayed a detective. How'd you get started?”

“After high school, I enlisted. I turned eighteen on the day our ship arrived in Europe. During the war, in spite of my age, I received a couple of field promotions and demonstrated proficiency with a gun. On the boat back to the States I earned a reputation in a handful of organized boxing matches and returned in good shape. My army buddy Mickey O'Brien tried talking me into becoming a cop, but I didn't want to wear a uniform again and take orders every day.”

I didn't tell him Laura turned down my proposal after I returned to Queens. A day later, I found a job that would take me far from home again. “A couple of months after I got back, I walked down to the Pinkerton office. They were looking to hire veterans. They hired me that day and sent me to their office in Omaha. That's where I met Dashiell Hammett.”

“And became a mystery writer.”

“Not right away. At the time, Dashiell was trying to get published. I used to read a lot in the army, so we talked books and writing. When a pulp magazine,
Black Mask,
ran one of his stories, he encouraged me to give it a try. The magazine didn't like any of my stories, but Dashiell kept encouraging me. Though that isn't why I stopped being a detective.”

“Why did you?”

I glanced at Laura. I hadn't even told her the reason. “I wanted to marry Laura and didn't want her having to worry about me every time I went to work.”

“You're a swell guy, Mr. Donovan.”

“I know plenty of people who'd disagree with you.”

“Then why did you want to get involved in this case?”

“Your boss, George Putnam, put the squeeze on my publisher. My publisher put the squeeze on me and…”

“I get the picture. Mr. Putnam did what he had to do.”

Fanny's apartment door opened. Tanaka and his partner led Fanny to their sedan. She wasn't in handcuffs. Tanaka opened the back door and Fanny sat in the backseat. The two detectives climbed in the front and drove off with their suspect.