Wings in the Dark (8 page)

We needed to talk to Fanny. “Sex, a woman scorned, and a bullet to the heart.”

Laura's eyes widened. “Jake Donovan. Blackie Doyle returns!”

There was a chance the idea of Kalua and Fanny was fiction. I ran a hand over my forehead. “I wonder whether Amelia or Putnam knew Fanny was having a relationship with Kalua.”

Billy shook his head. “No one did, or would have suspected. I mean, I never saw her without her mechanic's coveralls on.”

I smiled. “But you wanted to?”

Billy blushed. “I didn't mean it that way. And even if she scrubbed away some of the grease from her nails, the guy was at least fifty, twice Fanny's age.”

Laura slipped her arm through mine. “Jake's older than me.”

“Not that much older.” I patted her hand. “Billy, I don't suppose you know where Fanny Chandler lives?”

“Why would I know that?”

“You knew her number.”

“Was Fanny jealous of Amelia's success?” Laura asked Billy.

“They've been rivals for at least five years in flying competitions, but always in good fun. And it was Miss Earhart's idea to hire Fanny as a mechanic for this flight.”

“But the plane has had plenty of mechanical problems since you arrived.”

“If you're suggesting Fanny might've sabotaged the plane, you're off base, Mr. Donovan. She'd never do that.”

The kid was smart, but not when it came to dames or what ran the world—lust, greed, and revenge, the really important things. “Like she'd never fool around with a rich married man?”

I sat on the edge of the desk and searched one more time for anything that would shed light on the man's activities. On the back inside cover of the calendar was an address, next to the initials
FC.
The location was not too far from Wheeler Field. I jotted the address on a notepad, tore the sheet off, and stuffed it into my jacket pocket.

I went back to the first entry, flipping through the pages, and found what appeared to be meetings with Hank's brother, Ihe, at the Kana Bar. How many other secrets could be found in the man's appointment book if I had more time?

Footsteps sounded in the corridor and someone inserted a key into a lock.

Billy leaped off the chair and ran to the window. He tugged on the frame and the window slid open with a slight squeak.

“Damn.” I wanted more time to examine the book, but we'd had our chance. I flipped off the office light. With great reluctance, I left the appointment book on Kalua's desk and hurried toward the window.

The voices grew louder. It had to be Detective Tanaka. We had maybe a minute to get away. “Go, Billy.”

He slipped through the window and hopped on the fire escape.

Now footsteps came from the lobby, then lights from the next room shot beneath the door, into Kalua's office.

Laura gathered her gown and whispered, “You want me to climb out a window in this?”

“Out,” I whispered. “Now.”

I helped Laura out the window. Material snagged and tore, but she climbed down the stairs and dropped onto the alley behind the building.

I followed, closing the window and ducking down as Tanaka entered Kalua's office and flipped on the light.

I clambered down the fire escape, dropped into the alley, slipped, and fell on my hands and knees.

I rose and wiped the black smudge from my hands with a handkerchief. My tuxedo pocket was ripped, and a plate-sized patch of sludge stained my trouser leg from my earlier slip outside the office building.

We made it just in time. I started for the car at the end of the alley, then grabbed Billy's arm. “Where's your Giants hat?”

“My giant hat?”

“Giants. The New York Giants, a baseball team. Amelia gave it to you before we left the hotel. You were wearing it when we entered the office.”

He patted his head. “I must've…”

“Son of a bitch, Billy. You left it on Kalua's desk.”

The kid glanced up at the office window, where we'd made our escape. For a moment, I thought he was going to cry. “Sorry, Jake.”

“Oh, well, as long as you're sorry, everything's just hunky-dory.”

“J-Jake.” Laura stammered and a worried look flashed across her face. “We have bigger problems.” She pointed to the car. “Company.”

I turned and faced the three teenage thugs.

The leader pointed to the top of the fire escape. “Hey, fellas. Someone's been breaking and entering.” He chuckled and gestured toward me with his knife. “We need to revisit our earlier agreement.”

Whitey stood behind Laura, and the girl stood behind Billy. She ran a hand through his hair. “Where's your cap, shark bait?”

The leader stepped toward me and stopped close enough for me to tell the brand of sausage he had for dinner. “This time, empty your wallet, Tuxedo Man.”

Facing the three teenage punks, my primary focus was to protect my wife and Billy, but I had no intention of giving them any more dough. I didn't take my eyes off the tough-guy leader as I reached into my pocket and tossed Laura the car keys. “Laura, you and Billy wait in the car. I'll just be a minute taking care of these bums.”

The leader's lip curled in disgust. “By ‘taking care of,' I hope you're referring to turning over the contents of your wallet.”

Whitey stepped between Laura and the Oldsmobile. “You ain't going nowheres, doll.”

The girl ran her fingers over Billy's hair again. He looked about as tough as a sack full of kittens.

To my surprise Billy spun away from her. “That's enough.”

Angry men, even those as young as Billy, couldn't be pushed around like frightened ones.

The girl let out a quick bark of laughter. “So, you can be a tough guy. I like tough guys. Billy? Billy the Kid. How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

The leader hawked a load of spit beside the girl's shoe. “Enough, Wahini. I'm trying to conduct business.”

“No one's stopping you. He's as cute as a bug's ear, don't you think?” She kissed Billy on the lips, her face against his like a gas mask.

Billy's arms flailed like a wounded seagull as she prolonged the kiss.

When she let go, the girl laughed, pulled something from her mouth, and showed Billy the gum he'd been chewing. “Spearmint. My favorite.” She popped it back into her mouth.

Billy's eyes widened and his hand went to his face.

I tried not to smile, but failed. Still, we were in a jam, and I had to get us out of it.

Laura didn't appear worried, but she was an actress. We both knew the behavior of teenage punks was harder to predict than that of adults, but giving in to their demands wasn't the answer.

Whitey hadn't taken his blinkers off my wife. “I've seen your face before, doll.”

She glared at him a moment but didn't reply. If they realized she was a famous actress, they'd want more than the contents of my wallet.

The leather-jacketed leader broke his silence. “Looks like you're going to need a new tux, but that's not my doing or my problem. A guy like you's got plenty of dough. We're just asking you to share some of your good fortune.”

My old cane with the blade in the handle, a gift from Gino in New York, would have come in handy now. My favorite handgun, a Colt .45, was in storage in Los Angeles. That wasn't doing me any good either. I hadn't thought I'd need one on my honeymoon. I had no doubt I could disable the overconfident leader and his two backups. I gave my odds at fifty percent for taking all three and getting out of the jam. I was willing to take the chance if I could get Laura and Billy safely into the car.

I had to talk my way out of this. I'd done so plenty of times with guys tougher than these creeps. I grabbed my wallet. “I'll cough up the dough after you let Laura and Billy get inside the car.” I nodded toward the Olds.

While the leader ran one hand over his smooth face, Whitey's eyes widened in recognition. “You're…that actress. Laura something.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “You numbskull. You heard my husband call me Laura. You have a pretty good imagination, kid.”

“No. Whitey's right.” The girl snapped her fingers. Yeah. “
Midnight Wedding
. The food fight was really funny.”

Laura didn't blink. “You and your friends need to scram.”

I stepped between Whitey and Laura and used an old trick Mickey taught me in New York. I gazed past his shoulder at a nonexistent person and chuckled. When he glanced back to check, I socked him in the chin. As he stumbled backward and collided with his buddy, I shoved the creep against the office building and smashed my elbow into his nose, feeling the satisfying crunch of cracking cartilage.

He howled, and the knife clattered to the ground, blood shooting from his nose like water from a frozen pipe.

When the girl pulled the knife on her belt, Billy grabbed her wrist. He bent her hand back, causing her to drop the knife. She looked as shocked as I was as he calmly kicked her weapon across the alley.

Way to go, Billy!

The leader wiped blood from his nose with the back of one hand. He snatched his knife and shouted, “Oh, you've done it now, Tuxedo Man!”

I stole a quick glance toward the window in Kalua's office. I had to end this quickly. The commotion might bring the cops down from the third floor. I used a boxer's move to sidestep the thrust of the leader's blade. I knocked him on his butt with a left hook then kicked him in the ribs with my polished black dress shoes.

“You kids need to scram.” Behind me, Laura's voice sounded calm.

With my left hand full of the leader's shirt and my right fist ready to deliver a final blow, I glanced behind me.

She stood in a stance I taught her on the firing range. She held a pistol I didn't recognize in one hand and her purse in the other.

Whitey and the girl helped their leader stand. They held up their paws and backed down the alley.

“Wait. You have something of mine!” Billy grabbed the girl's hand and swept her into his arms. He leaned her head back slightly. Her eyes widened as he planted a lingering kiss on her mouth. When the kiss ended, he winked at me and began to chew his reclaimed gum.

The two boys took off down the alley. The girl went after them and waved as she ran. “Aloha, Billy.”

We were lucky. So far the confrontation hadn't drawn the attention of the cops. I put off asking Laura about the gun as we hurried to the Olds. I suspected we only had seconds before one of the cops glanced through the office window.

Laura unlocked the car and slid behind the wheel. I wanted to drive but didn't have time to argue. Besides, Laura was at least my equal when it came to driving. When Billy climbed into the backseat, Laura pumped the gas and the car started. She squealed the tires as we sped past a patrol car and Tanaka's black sedan.

As Laura turned the corner, I glimpsed two patrol officers and Tanaka running into the street. I doubted whether they'd seen enough to ID us.

Minutes later, I began to relax. I glanced at the gun in Laura's lap. “Where did you get that?”

She slipped the gun inside her purse. “Gino gave it to me before we left New York. It's a vest pocket .25 and fits nicely into a purse. A girl has to have some secrets.”

There were secrets, and there were secrets. I didn't like this one. “I could question you taking a gun on our honeymoon, but let's imagine for a second I'm okay with that. Why would you bring a gun on a quiet night of dinner and dancing?”

“I carry a gun with me often, darling, and have since you left for Florida, but this was the first time I've had to use one.” Laura patted the side of my face. “We might be newlyweds, but we've been together long enough for me to know romantic dinners with you have a habit of turning into situations where a gun comes in handy.”

I thought back to the last ten years since Mickey and I opened the detective agency in Queens. She was right. “I still wish you'd let me know when you have a gun in your purse.”

“If you'd known, you might've handled the situation differently with those kids.”

“They weren't kids. They were punks. Besides, I could've handled them.” I glanced at the bloodied knuckles on my left hand. Maybe I could have.

Laura shot me a skeptical smirk. “If I'd known that, Billy and I would've waited in the car.”

Billy leaned forward from the backseat. “Mr. Donovan, with all due respect, you should get over it. I, for one, am glad your wife had a gun in her purse.”

I studied him a moment. He'd puked his guts thinking danger might be around the corner, but when the going got tough, Billy came through. “You took care of that pretty Wahini back there. Where did you learn that move?”

“I took a class in judo at Yale, but I'd never used what I learned until now.”

“Not that move. I meant taking back your gum?”

Billy blushed. He rolled down the back window and spit out his gum. “Becky Lynne Oliver, back in high school.”

I guess we all had our Becky Lynne Olivers back in school, girls who taught us what we couldn't learn in books. I was fortunate I'd married mine.

Laura smiled at Billy in the rearview mirror. “Was the Hawaiian girl as good a kisser as Becky Lynne?”

“I didn't even realize what I'd done till I'd done it.” Billy laughed. He clapped me on the shoulder like we were partners. “You handled yourself pretty well too, Mr. Donovan.”

“I told you he has many talents.” Laura smiled proudly. “Where are we going now, darling?”

Before I could answer, Billy, the man with the newfound courage, set his hands on the back of the front seat. “To see Fanny Chandler, aren't we, Mr. Donovan.”

As we raced away from the seedier part of Honolulu, I kept my eyes peeled for a tail. Laura was as good a driver as I was, but when things got tense, she sometimes lead-footed the gas pedal.

Satisfied the cops hadn't followed, I thought about all we'd learned in Kalua's office. We discovered two, maybe three possible suspects—Fanny Chandler, Ihe Kalua, or someone else connected to the Royalist movement.

I wouldn't have learned much without Laura and Billy. Laura uncovered the most important find, Kalua's appointment book, which contained key evidence about Fanny and Hank Kalua. What Billy lacked in worldly experience, he made up for in his wealth of information on Hawaii, locks, and Oldsmobile ignitions. Even more surprising, he handled himself well when trouble showed up in the form of three teenage thugs.

The most compelling evidence was against Fanny Chandler, between her illicit love affair and her being a jealous rival of Amelia's.

My instinct, however, was to find out what I could about the Royalists. For all I knew, they were a collection of old men longing for the good old days with few foreigners and a benevolent monarchy. The waterfront location of their hangout, the Kana Bar, told me to be cautious. A group of anti-American fanatics would have a motive to stop Amelia Earhart's flight across the Pacific. The failure of her attempt might set aviation back years.

Both possibilities had to be checked out. I wanted to investigate the Kana Bar, but I wouldn't bring Laura or Billy to what might be a dangerous hangout with nefarious thugs. Better to start with a visit to Fanny Chandler.

I resented being forced to work on a murder investigation, but as we sped through downtown Honolulu, I realized I'd begun to enjoy getting back into the business and the challenges of investigating a high-profile crime. I'd had little time to hone long-neglected skills, including those necessary to stand up to the thugs in the alley, even if they were teenagers.

The blast of a car horn jolted me from my concentration. As we sailed through an intersection, my eyes focused on the speedometer. “I'd be happy if you'd pull over and let me drive.”

Laura's expression of indignation reminded me of our single days. Since our honeymoon had begun, with the exception of her anger over my behavior with the reporter Hunter Conway, she'd been patient and forgiving of my occasional slipups. “Is there something wrong with the way I'm driving?”

“You're a wonderful and skilled driver, but…”

Red lights flashed through the rear window. Laura let out a sigh and slowed. “Why didn't you tell me I was going too fast?”

Like that'd ever slowed her before. “Just fess up and we'll pay the fine.”

Laura pulled to the curb and shut off the engine. With a quick glance my way, she undid the first button on her dress. She rearranged herself and showed a bit more cleavage. “How do they look?”

“Like two bald babies with flawlessly smooth scalps.” I didn't approve of my wife using her physical charms. “Laura…”

“I recognize that look of disapproval, but I've never gotten a ticket, and I'm not about to start now.” She rolled down the window and waited. “You might want to worry about yourself. You look like you've been in a barroom brawl.”

I crossed my arms and covered the torn pocket of my jacket.

The officer stood beside Laura's door. He looked like he hadn't slept since the Hoover administration.

Just pay the fine.

He spoke in a monotone like he'd done this a thousand times before. “Driver's license, please.”

“Why, of course, Officer.” Laura used the southern accent she'd perfected in
Midnight Wedding
. She kept the pistol covered as she slipped her hand into her purse. She passed her license to the cop and batted her long, dark eyelashes. “Is anything wrong?”

He gazed my way. “What's with him?”

Laura chuckled. “He always looks that grumpy.”

I uncrossed my arms, keeping one over my torn pocket. Turning the hand with the scrapes away from the cop, I managed a smile. “Good evening, Officer.”

The cop checked Laura's license. He obviously didn't recognize her, much to my wife's dismay. “Do you realize how fast you were going?”

“I must have lost track…” She thumbed toward the backseat. “You see, my nephew is ill, and I was hurrying to get him to the hospital.”

The cop glanced in the back at Billy. “He doesn't look sick.”

Caught off guard, Billy stammered, “I'm…I'm…it's been a harrowing evening. I guess the excitement was too much for me.” He fell into the act, covered his mouth, and dry heaved onto the floorboard.

The officer backed up like he might get caught in the spray then handed back Laura's license. “Just keep at a reasonable speed, all right, ma'am?”

“Of course, Officer.”

When the cop hurried back to his patrol car, Laura muttered, “ ‘Ma'am.' That's a first. It's always been ‘miss.' ” She slipped her license back into her purse. “He didn't recognize me. Maybe he doesn't go to the movies.”

“Cops prefer action movies to screwball comedies.”

Laura glanced at her cleavage. “Jake, am I still attractive?”

I'd been married for less than ten days, but I recognized one of those dangerous trap questions women sprang on men from time to time. “Of course, darling. You're as sweet and innocent as that first day I saw you when you walked by my house.”

“You could've stopped with ‘of course.' ” She re-buttoned her dress and glanced to the backseat. “Billy, do I look old to you?”

“Not really.”

Laura gasped. “What does that mean?”

I shot the kid a warning look.

He apparently recognized his
faux pas
. “Not as old as Miss Earhart, but she's out in the sun and wind almost every day.”

“Stop, Billy”—I held up one hand—“or you'll live to regret it.”

Confusion washed over his face. “How old are you, Miss Wilson? Thirty, thirty-five?”

Laura shot me a warning glare. “Thirty-one.”

She was thirty-three and had a birthday coming up, but I wasn't about to correct her.

Billy nodded his approval. “You look good for thirty-one.”

Laura pursed her lips. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I thought it was a compliment.” Billy didn't seem to receive my message to stop. “What do I know, Miss Wilson? I'm just a kid and most of the women I'm around are college girls. You're attractive for someone your…” He was just making things worse.

Laura's eyes narrowed. At least she was angrier at him than me.

As the officer drove past us, Laura pumped the accelerator like she was crushing grapes. When she turned the key, the car wouldn't start. She banged on the steering wheel.

Billy cleared his throat. “She's flooded. You'll have to wait a few minutes and try again.”

I glanced out the passenger window at a park with some kind of an A-frame temple. There was something familiar about the structure. “Billy, do you know what that is?”

“Sure. It's the Izumo Taishakyo Mission, the most famous Shinto shrine on the Islands. Too bad it's closed. That's one of the places I wanted to see before I left.”

“Thanks to Laura's getting us pulled over, you can scratch that item off your list.” I studied the Shinto shrine. “I should know this, but what's Shinto?”

Billy shook his head like I was a complete imbecile. “I realize you're a hotshot writer and all, but you should read nonfiction from time to time. Shinto is the primary religion of Japan.”

I ignored the rebuke. “Are there a lot of Japanese in Hawaii?”

“Of course there are. Japan's had an influence on the Islands far longer than America has. Why do you ask, Mr. Donovan?”

I wasn't sure. “Sweetheart.”

Laura was drumming her fingers on the dash. She looked angry at both of us.

“May I drive, please?”

“Fine.” She stepped out of the car and didn't speak as we passed at the rear of the Olds. She climbed into the passenger seat and folded her arms like I had.

I slipped behind the wheel and eased away from the curb, driving slowly through the bright lights of downtown Honolulu. “This is how one is supposed to drive when not being pursued.”

Laura looked like she might pistol-whip me at any moment; then her smile broke out and she burst out laughing. She snuggled closer and rested her head against my shoulder. “What am I going to do with you?”

I gave her a wink. “If Billy wasn't along, I'd have a suggestion or two.”