Wings in the Dark (18 page)

Tanaka escorted us to the hallway. At the entrance to the lobby, Hunter Conway was talking to a well-built dame in a tight red dress. With a look of surprise, he nodded to me then tipped his hat to the woman and disappeared into the lobby.

Tanaka wrinkled his brow. “You two friends?”

“Not really.”

Laura slipped her arm in mine. “Ever since Conway told Jake about his parents getting murdered, Jake has softened up. My husband's a sucker for a sob story.”

“His murdered-parents story?” Tanaka laughed. “If I had a buck for every sap who swallowed that story…Sorry, Jake. Conway's parents are very much alive and live in Arizona. He came to Hawaii ten years ago after graduating from UCLA. He'll say or do anything to get a scoop.”

I couldn't believe the reporter tagged me as a gullible sap. I felt like a complete fool.

We reached the lobby, and Conway was nowhere in sight.

Pete, Tanaka's partner, came in with a man in tow. The man was in his mid-forties, wore a fancy blue pin-striped suit, and was freshly shaved. “Look who I found, Detective, Lyle Benedict.”

Benedict, one of the men who put up the ten grand, shook free of Pete's grip and glared at Tanaka. “Do you know who I am?”

Pete didn't care who the man was. He shoved the businessman forward. “Nice threads, don't you think? Doesn't look like something one would wear fishing.”

Tanaka thumbed toward the hallway. “Take him into my office. Jake, Laura, care to join us?”

Pete was younger and clearly less experienced than Tanaka, and he wasn't as polished and calm. I liked that in the man. He escorted Lyle Benedict into Tanaka's office. He shoved him into a seat at the corner table and uncuffed him.

Benedict straightened his suit coat. “I'd like the wine list, please.”

“Cut the crap, wise guy.” Pete's lip curled in disgust.

Benedict pulled out a small notepad and pen from his suit coat pocket. “Is this going to take long, 'cause my wife expected me an hour ago.”

“Correct me if I'm wrong, genius.” Pete set a foot on the chair beside the businessman. “Your alibi for the time of Hank Kalua's murder is a showgirl from a nightclub you own. You two were on a supposed fishing trip on a boat you own, and you're worried you might get in trouble with your wife if you show up late?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Benedict was lucky Mickey O'Brien wasn't interrogating him. Mickey would have slapped him around a little, maybe a lot.

Tanaka entered and sat at the table, while I pulled up a desk chair. The bourbon in the coffee took the edge off, but not enough to ignore Benedict giving Laura the once-over. My wife, playing a role, perched herself on the edge of Tanaka's desk, showing plenty of leg. She stuck a stick of gum in her mouth and watched the show.

“Look, I knew nothing about a murder until”—Benedict thumbed toward Pete—“this dick breaks down the door to my cabin and fills me in.”

For the next twenty minutes, Tanaka and Pete peppered the man with questions about his so-called fishing trip, but Benedict kept his cool, doodling on the notepad.

The detectives grew increasingly frustrated with Benedict's answers.

When Tanaka nodded to me, I gave it a shot. “For a man being questioned in a murder of someone he could barely tolerate, you're awfully calm.”

“ 'Cause I didn't do it, flatfoot.”

There was no mistaking Benedict's accent. “You from Brooklyn?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Queens.”

Benedict held out both hands. “Then you know I'm just a regular Joe.”

“Sure you are. How much did those diamond cuff links cost?”

Benedict glanced at the jewels on his sleeves. “Nothin'. They were a gift.” Benedict tapped his pen on the notepad. “Look, I'm sorry the bum got bumped off, but I didn't do it. If I had a buck for every enemy Kalua made, I'd be able to afford these cuff links. If I was so inclined, it would've happened years ago when he first started cheating me on various transactions.”

Pete peered over the top of his glasses and sneered. “Is that when you got into a fistfight with Kalua?”

“Check your records, dick. It was the first fistfight we got into. And he cheated at that too.”

I followed Benedict's gaze as Laura sat with her legs crossed, her dress hiked above her knees.

Laura popped her gum like some blond floozy. “I, for one, believe you, Mr. Benedict. And I think Detective Tanaka should call your wife and explain just how tight your alibi is.”

Benedict held up both hands. “Now, there's no need to bring the ball and chain into this. Like I said, I didn't kill the bum. I'll send flowers to the widow, 'cause she was a lady, but Kalua, he was a real crumb.”

I set the cup on the floor. “There's been talk of postponing Amelia Earhart's flight.”

Benedict jumped to his feet. “What?”

“Sit down!” Pete tugged on his arm.

Benedict sank into his chair. He stared at his manicure. “In hindsight, I guess I shouldn't've…gone fishing, but I planned to be back in plenty of time to see Amelia off. Marcus Taylor, Kalua, and I put up most of the dough, but nearly a hundred other businessmen supported this flight too. It's important to the future of the Islands. Why would I want to jeopardize that by killing a fellow investor in Amelia's hangar? Makes no sense.”

I reluctantly agreed. I'd have enjoyed knowing Benedict would spend time in jail. He might be a womanizing cheat, but that didn't make him a killer.

I picked up my cup and drank the rest of the coffee and let Tanaka and Pete continue the questioning. A half hour later, they let him go.

When we left the police station, Benedict followed Laura and me. He went to the streetlight and hailed a cab. The cab pulled up and stopped alongside him. He glanced back at us like we'd just left a dinner party. “Care to share a cab? No hard feelings.”

I waved the scumbag on.

He nodded toward Laura. “How 'bout you, doll?”

Laura sneered. “I'd rather walk.”

Pete drove us back. It was almost ten when we returned to the cabana. I paced the deck, thinking about Fanny pointing the finger at Hank's brother, Ihe. I had to talk to him.

Laura slumped down into a chair and grabbed my hand to stop me pacing. “I'm worried about you. You can never just let things go.”

“Amelia's life is in danger.”

“Stoddard and Reggie and the Honolulu police will keep her safe!”

I didn't want to argue. We were both frustrated, tired, and hungry. How long could we continue with so little food and sleep?

I made my way to the lobby and ordered a tray of sandwiches, the only food available at this time of night.

I filled two glasses with champagne and handed one to Laura. The bubbles were gone, but the alcohol and food made us feel better, and we went to bed. My worries about Amelia Earhart's safety vanished in Laura's arms. I helped her out of her clothes and kissed her neck.

From down the beach came music, a ukulele, then people applauding. It couldn't be. I raised my head, but Laura pulled me into a kiss.

As Shirley Temple sang, I let out a groan. The six-year-old's beach concert! The Good Ship Lollipop just sank our night of passion.

Laura chuckled and set her head on my shoulder. By the time the second song ended, Laura was fast asleep.

Before dawn, I slipped out of bed, without waking Laura. We had a day and a half before Amelia's scheduled afternoon takeoff. I left a note to say I'd gone for a walk and would bring back breakfast.

I made my way to the hotel, entered the lobby, and borrowed a pair of binoculars from the manager, who gave me a
what's a man on his honeymoon need binoculars for
look but handed them over to me. I thanked him and took the elevator to the top floor. When I got off, I walked to the end of the hallway and opened the door marked
STAIRS
. I climbed to the rooftop door.

It figured it was locked. I removed Billy's file, slipped it into the lock, and managed to open the door. I went onto the roof and walked to the edge of the building.

A soft breeze stirred the fronds of the palm trees below. Along the horizon, orange clouds with streaks of purple split the sky from the foaming ocean. I'd never appreciated a sunrise until I'd seen Hawaiian sunrises, but I wasn't there for the view.

One more day and Amelia Earhart would take off for the California coast. I had less than thirty-six hours to let go of my concerns or do something about them, like solve Hank Kalua's murder and remove the risk before she took off.

I glanced at our cabana and our private cove. Hotel workers were beginning the early morning shift. Men were staring at the backsides of women half their age, hoping someday to get a glimpse of what was under the material. Women half the men's ages were hoping to get a peek at the men's wallets, hoping to glimpse what was inside. It was the way things were in Queens, Los Angeles, and the rest of the country. Hawaii was no different.

Through the binoculars, I scanned the beach. At the outdoor bar, a half-dozen people mingled already. I focused on Sato's Bicycle Shop, which we'd come to know so well.

Fifty yards up the beach from the shop was Tony's Surf Shack. I raised the glasses and spotted a solitary surfer sitting on a board, waiting for the perfect wave. This early, it had to be Tony. No lessons, just him and the inevitable waves crashing toward the beach.

The beach ended at a path Laura and I had taken on our bike ride past Kalua's pineapple plantation. The sight reminded me that I wanted to stop by and get Ihe to talk.

Movement near the bicycle shop caught my eye. A gray pickup pulled up beside the Oldsmobile. Mikayla Sato climbed out. With a set of binoculars around her neck she went to the bed of the pickup and pulled a tarp over three bicycles and a canvas bag four and a half, maybe five feet long with a shoulder strap.

“Jake Donovan”—Laura came to my side—“I didn't know there was food available on the roof of the hotel.”

I lowered the glasses and wrapped an arm around Laura.

“What are you doing here?”

“A trick I learned during my time in the Los Angeles Pinkerton office. Sometimes a person gets so close to a case, it helps to step back and take a different look. So I'd sometimes visit a crime scene that had me stumped. I'd forget about the street view and climb to the top of a nearby building. Things look different.”

She held my arm and rested her head against my shoulder. “But this isn't a crime scene.”

“Since I woke up, I've had a nagging feeling I was missing something about our peaceful hotel beach.”

“Find anything?”

“Your surfer friend Tony is closer to Sato's Bicycle Shop than I realized. A lot of people pass by both places on the way up the bicycle path. Perhaps they've seen something suspicious.”

I lifted the glasses and watched Mikayla haul the canvas bag from the truck bed. It looked like…I didn't want to complete the thought. I wanted Laura's opinion. I handed the glasses to her. “What do you think Mikayla's carrying?”

Laura peered through the binoculars. “It looks like a rifle. Don't look so surprised. She has a shotgun hanging in her shop.” She handed me the glasses.

“I know, but this looks different.” Through the lenses, I saw Mrs. Sato sling the rifle over one shoulder, unlock the front door, and go inside.

I lowered the glasses. “What do you think?”

Laura shrugged. “Maybe she collects rifles or hunts birds or shoots skeet.”

“That didn't look like a shotgun.”

“Maybe rats have taken up residence on the beach. You just being your usual nosy self, or are you thinking that sweet woman shot Kalua?”

“Of course not. And he was shot with a handgun…like the one Fanny kept in her drawer.” I wrapped my arms around her and forced myself to forget Kalua's murder, just for a minute, so Laura and I could enjoy the sunrise. “Let's order something and have a quiet solitary breakfast on our deck before deciding what we have to do.”

Laura pointed to someone walking the path from the hotel to our cabana. “Who's that?”

I raised the glasses and focused on the man…the kid carrying a newspaper and a bag. “It's Billy.”

Laura let out a groan. “So much for our quiet solitary breakfast. Let's go see what he wants.”

Laura and I returned to the cabana. Billy sat at the deck table with a pad of paper and two phone books open in front of him. He looked up as we climbed the steps. His eyes were swollen and red as if he hadn't slept.

“Billy, what a nice surprise.” Laura greeted him with a warm smile. She'd come to really like the kid.

“I've been going over that profile of Kitsune, trying to narrow down who this person might be. And I brought malasada.” He lifted a bag from beside his chair and set it on the table.

I peered inside. Egg-sized doughnuts, Hawaiian style.

“How thoughtful.” Laura took one and devoured it in a few bites, then grabbed another before setting the bag closer to me.

I ignored the doughnuts. “You're going to find Kitsune in the phone book?”

“After you left the hangar, everyone focused on setting up security, but I couldn't shake the top-secret report that suggested the Japanese spy was hiding in plain sight.” He picked up one of the phone books. “This is three years old. I went through it, underlining every Japanese surname, then did the same to the most recent book. Before I drove here, I wrote down the name of everyone who wasn't listed three years ago.”

“Not everyone in Hawaii has a telephone.”

Billy held up one finger. “Ah, but a spy would make sure he has one, right?”

“Brilliant.”

Billy cocked his head. “You're being sarcastic.”

Laura chuckled. “Jake?”

The kid's plan made sense if a spy from Japan would blend into the population and use his real name. The kid was smart but needed more life experience. “Then what?”

“Then I take the list of the new names and begin to narrow it down.”

I picked up the notepad and flipped through the list, six pages' worth. Almost half were crossed off. “There are probably five hundred names on this list.”

“Five hundred eight. More than half were women, so I can narrow it even more by crossing them off. That left three hundred twelve men who might be Kitsune.”

Laura finished her second doughnut. “You must have worked all night.”

He stifled a yawn. “A skill I learned in college.”

The kid's plan sounded logical, but coffee would help me sort it out. “How about some coffee?”

Laura wiped doughnut crumbs from her mouth with a napkin. “I'd love some!”

Billy held up one hand. “I don't drink coffee.”

“If you worked all night without some joe, it's time you learn. You'll never make it through law school without acquiring the taste.”

I headed up the path, where a hotel worker greeted me. I slipped him a sawbuck and ordered a small pot of coffee and three cups, a half-dozen sugar cubes, and a small jug of cream.

I returned to the deck. If we had a team of workers and plenty of time, Billy's plan just might work, but there were only three of us and time was winding down. I joined Billy and Laura at the table. “How do you plan to pare down the list enough to make it useful?”

“Call them. I'll tell them I work for a radio station and we're compiling information on our demographics. The answers to age, marital status, and children should eliminate all but a few dozen. Any other questions you think we can ask?”

We?
“What's your opinion of the expansion of the Japanese Empire?”

A pretty young girl delivered the coffee on a tray and gave Billy the eye, but he didn't seem to notice. I tipped the girl, who thanked me and left.

After Laura filled three cups, I picked up the newspaper to read Conway's latest on the murder. The headline read
F
EMME
F
ATALE
F
ANNY
. That should sell a lot of papers and get that lying, manipulative reporter back to the crime desk permanently. At least my name wasn't in the article. And no mention of a Japanese spy.

The last paragraph caught my eye. “What makes you think we can find Kitsune before Amelia takes off tomorrow?”

“I know you're skeptical, but one of my professors in college gave us a similar exercise.”

I smacked the table, nearly spilling the coffee. “Exercise? People's lives are involved. This isn't some damn academic exercise.”

“But—”

“Two government agents from separate countries and the army haven't found Kitsune.” I didn't like the idea of sitting around making phone calls while the clock ticked.

Laura touched my arm. “Darling, what choice do we have?”

There was something else we could do. I handed her the newspaper. “Hank Kalua's funeral is Saturday. The family is gathering today at the plantation.”

Laura's eyes widened. “And you want to crash the party?”

I had to talk to Ihe and find out what he knew about Kitsume. “That's the plan.”

Laura looked at her tan trousers and flowered blouse. “Dressed like this?”

“It's Hawaii.”

Billy rose, banging his knee on the table. He winced. “I think you're way off base here, Mr. Donovan. My plan has sound principles.”

I was proud of the kid for standing up for what he believed. He wasn't the intimidated young man I met in Amelia's hangar. “Laura and I are going to the plantation. You can stay here with your principles or come with us.”

He held up the list of names. “I'm staying.”

“Good, then I'll expect the name and address of the spy by the time we return.”

“Wait. You want to take the car I rented?”

I shook my head.

I led Laura down the steps to the beach. We made our way toward the bicycle shop.

Laura stopped and pointed at the Oldsmobile we'd rented before. “If we're going to rent a car, why didn't you just borrow Billy's?”

“Car, on a day like this?” I swept my arm toward the billowing white clouds stirred by a gentle breeze.

“Bicycles?”

“Where's your sense of adventure?” I opened the door and we went inside.

Mikayla came out of the back room and closed the door behind her. “Aloha, Mr. Donovan, Miss Wilson.”

The shotgun hanging behind the counter reminded me of the rifle the woman had carried from the pickup to the shop. I glanced around but didn't see any signs of the canvas bag. “We'll need two bicycles this morning, Mrs. Sato.”

Behind us, the door opened. Billy came in. “Make that three.”

Mikayla nodded. “Take your pick, of course.”

We went outside and stood next to the bicycle rack with at least two dozen bikes for rent. “What changed your mind?”

“I still think my plan is sound, but I can tell you think it's a waste of time. And…” He swallowed hard. “You remind me of my father in many ways.”

“Ahhh.” Laura blinked away tears.

“Thanks.” I clapped him on the back and gestured toward the rack. “Your choice.”

He grabbed a blue bicycle.

“That's a girl's bike.”

He stepped back. “Are you sure?”

I nodded and pointed to a black one that looked like something he could handle.

Laura and I found the ones we'd grown familiar with.

Billy backed his out of the rack. “I was never very good at riding bikes. How far are we going?”

“A couple of miles.” I pointed up the path that led from Tony's Surf Shop. To my relief, the man wasn't in sight.

Mrs. Sato came outside. “What a beautiful day for a bicycle ride.”

I nodded. “See you in a few hours.”

She headed for the two cars and waved as we rode off.

Billy's front wheel wobbled as he pedaled. He headed straight for a rock, hit it, and tumbled off.

Laura and I climbed off and helped him up. “The faster you go, the easier it is to steer.”

I picked up the bike, which didn't look damaged. I glanced back at the bicycle shop; Mikayla was checking under the hood of her gray pickup.

“I can do this.” He climbed on and appeared to summon new determination as he pedaled off.

I rode behind Laura and Billy. We reached the top and Billy seemed to be getting better. A quarter mile down the path we came to the Kalua Pineapple Plantation. We turned onto a tree-lined dirt road. It led to a large white one-story house surrounded by greenery and flanked by palm trees.

A dozen cars were parked at the side of the house. Three men in black suits lingered out front, smoking cigarettes.

We climbed off and parked our bikes beneath a flowering hitachi tree.

Laura didn't look like she wanted to go through with my plan. “You really think this is a good idea? I mean, the family is grieving.”

I wasn't sure how we'd be greeted, three strangers arriving at the family doorstep, but we had to take a chance. As we approached the front door, I remembered my Pinkerton training. Act like you belong.