by Tyler Colins
“We need a major break. Anything notable happening on your end?”
I relayed all that had transpired over the last twenty-four hours. “But we've got nothing to arrest her with.”
“How woefully true. We have to ramp up,” he declared.
I voiced agreement. “Anything new with your friend?”
“Loretta-Lee's still out for the count and poor Angus is slipping into depression. He's at my place, drowning his sorrows.”
“That's not good.”
“So not good,” Xavier murmured. “Everything's working against him. Loretta-Lee's silence is poisoning everyone's opinion and outlook.”
“When she awakens, she may poison him more—by telling people he did it, even if he didn't. It depends on how vindictive she intends to be.”
“She could get him real good,” he said solemnly. “Here's hoping that's not on the agenda.”
We disconnected and I rolled onto my back to watch a darkening sky.
“I hear those cogs whirring,” Linda said.
“That's all they're doing, unfortunately.” I hooked my hands under my neck. “We have two urgent must-dos. One, prove Cholla's a killer. Two, prove Angus is innocent of beating Loretta-Lee.”
“In both cases, we need talking witnesses,” Rey pointed out, hugging her knees to her chest.
“Or irrefutable evidence,” Linda added.
“You'd think the heart charm would have helped,” Rey said, glowering. “It was at the scene.”
“Ald didn't think it was enough. That charm—as stated on a couple of occasions—could have been dropped at any time.”
“Let's get Xavier to send us victim and fire photos, and go over them with a fine-tooth comb. Maybe, just maybe, we missed something.” I slapped my forehead as I recalled one thing we'd talked about and not yet done.
Out came the cell phone again.
* * *
“Entrez vous.” Linda flourished an arm, directing Xavier into the condo.
He was juggling two extra-large pizza boxes, plus a large plastic bag and briefcase.
She grabbed the bag when it appeared it might canoodle the foyer floor.
“Coffee or energy drink?” I asked merrily.
“Both. It's going to be a long night.” Smiling wearily, he placed the pizza on the kitchen counter. “You look beat.”
“Sleep's been a hard-to-acquire commodity of late.” I poured coffee and grabbed a can from the fridge.
Rey assembled plates, cutlery, and napkins on the living-room coffee table. “Caffeine's keeping us gunned.”
Even Xavier looked “beat”, if not discouraged, as he slipped off a wrinkled lightweight jacket. “I've brought photos.”
“What about Yvon Malheur?” I asked, grabbing the cartons and following him into the living room. Linda took up the rear with salads and we gathered around the coffee table.
“I've got a call into a friend. Ravi'll call as soon as she's got something.”
Like famished sprinters after a 10K race, we snatched thick fragrant slices and got down to business.
“Are you sure you want to look at these while we're eating?” he asked with a salty smile.
The three of us gazed at one another, then nodded eagerly.
“They're your stomachs.” He handed them to Rey and she distributed them.
“Yuck.” Linda frowned and bit into her slice of pizza.
“The anchovies or the body?” Rey joked dryly.
Linda wrinkled her nose and returned to the photos.
“Other than being really gross, there's not much here,” Rey commented and took a large gulp of Red Bull.
“There has to be,” I murmured, peering closely.
“Because you want it to be?”
“Darn tootin', sista.”
Rey laughed.
As we ate in silence, we continued studying—and exchanging—photos. Approximately five minutes later, Xavier received a call. Excusing himself, he ambled into the lanai.
Rey grabbed another slice. “What's got you so absorbed?”
With an Ekeka-bad English accent, I declared, “By jove, I think I've got it.”
“What? A blast of gas?” she jested. “Or a slice of pepper on your chin?”
I wiped it away. “Eyeball this pic of Lolita.”
Rey and Linda slid closer and regarded it closely.
“She's looked better,” Rey said wryly. “So?”
“Check out the forehead.”
“ … Yeah, there are marks. We saw them before.”
“Describe them.”
Rey scanned my face, shrugged, and returned to the photo. “Scraped, burned skin. Largish circular hole. Distinctive curlicues around the hole.” She glanced at Linda and they stared at each other for several seconds. In unison, they somberly said, “The Borgia ring.”
* * *
Rey waved the photo when Xavier reentered the living room. “We discovered something—oh-oh. What's wrong?”
“Someone took a baseball bat to Angus. He's in the hospital.”
“What?” we asked simultaneously, stunned.
“When? Who did it?” I gaped in disbelief. “Is he—will he be all right?”
“It happened a couple of hours ago. It sounds bad,” he replied anxiously, grabbing his jacket. “I'm heading to the hospital.”
I jumped upright. “We're coming with you. Give us five.”
He nodded.
“Crap. I'm grabbing a sweater from your closet.” Linda raced into the bedroom.
“Double crap. I'm doing the same.” Rey hopped onto bare feet and hastened after.
“Grab me the denim jacket with the gold threading,” I called behind, closing pizza cartons.
“If someone took a bat to him, that should clear him of taking one to Loretta-Lee,” Linda said upon return.
“Unless a friend or relative of Loretta-Lee's wanted revenge.” Xavier slipped on his jacket. “I'm not so sure this beating clears him … yet.”
Linda pursed her lips. “Most likely Loretta-Lee's assailant is ensuring Angus is out for the count.”
“But why return to beat up Angus?” the adjuster asked, stymied. “To everyone concerned, it looked like he'd done the dastardly deed. Jail time for Angus was a pretty sure thing. Why not leave it be?”
“There's more to this than meets the eye,” I murmured, grabbing the denim jacket from Rey and retrieving my bag.
Linda agreed. “Who's driving?”
“I am,” Xavier and I said simultaneously.
He smiled drolly and motioned Rey. “You and I'll go in one car. JJ and Linda'll follow.”
“Loretta-Lee's relatives and friends believe Angus was to blame, don't they?” I asked as we headed toward the elevators.
“According to what Gail had shared, which adds weight to the revenge theory,” Linda stated.
“I'd like to know if one of them thought someone else might be to blame … and who he or she thought that someone might be.”
“Didn't Gail also say Loretta-Lee's boyfriend Bob was missing?” Rey asked as we stepped into the parking garage.
“He was missing at the time of her beating, but the police located him a couple of days later. He'd been on an overnight fishing trip with buddies. He answered questions and had an alibi.”
“Let's find out more about him,” I affirmed with a nod. “We'll call Ald.”
Rey sniffed. “Are we going to tell him about the Borgia ring?”
“Borgia ring?” Xavier asked, pulling out car keys.
“We have a theory about marks on Lolita's forehead,” I explained. “But it's only a theory.”
“The marks are similar to the etchings and impressions on the ring. It's inarguable.” Linda snorted, then sighed. “We need more, don't we?”
“We do. So for now, let's get the scoop on Boy-Toy Bob.” I unlocked the passenger door for Linda, and nodded to Rey and Xavier.
“The honor of calling Hives is all yours.” My cousin smirked and got into the BMW.
&nbs
p; Chapter Thirty-Six
Ald wasn't answering and VM appeared to be off, so I tried Gail as we trailed Xavier.
She was getting ready to meet a friend for dinner and drinks at half past eight. “That's not like Ald. He must have been called away on urgent business.” Shuffling ensued. “Sorry, just collecting my bag. The damn thing fell and everything's on the floor. Uh, you wanted to know about this Bob guy, right?”
“You didn't share much when we talked back when.”
“There wasn't much to share—at least from what Ald gave me.”
“Maybe he wasn't sharing.”
“That wouldn't surprise me.” She laughed. “Let me see what I can find out in the next twenty minutes, before I head out. What's Bob's last name again?”
I gave it and disconnected as I pulled into a fairly empty parking lot.
Linda popped a mint into her mouth. “Should I bring an umbrella?”
I peered up at a cloudy sky. Promise of rain continued to linger as spirals of silvery fog coiled across the night sky. “We should be all right. The entrance isn't that far.”
Rey hopped from the car, waved, and hastened after Xavier who was striding toward the hospital like a legal process server intent on delivering a handful of subpoenas.
“Do you think Cholla believes we'll steer clear of her place … or her, for that matter?” Linda asked, closing the passenger door.
“She knows us too well,” I replied with a dry smile.
“I wonder if she's at all worried.”
I held open the entrance door. “She has sociopathic tendencies, so that's unlikely.”
“I don't agree. She had Bayat kill Timmy-Tom and it wasn't on a lark, but because she didn't want him saying anything. So yeah, she was worried.”
“You're probably right,” I acknowledged and nodded to Xavier and Rey, who were talking to a tall, beefy fellow at Reception.
Two minutes later, they sauntered over and Xavier told us Angus was mauka (north), on the third floor.
Silently, we headed up. Outside the room stood a nurse and doctor, conversing quietly. We dropped back while Xavier hurried forward.
Tony B started singing and I quickly pulled out the cell. “Yeah?”
“I got a little on your Bob guy.”
“Hold on, Gail.”
Rey and Linda perked up and I motioned a dim niche several yards away. Holding up the cell so they could hear, I instructed our friend to go ahead.
“It appears that Robert Ira D'anger had been pulled in for assault—once in a bar and once re a former girlfriend. He was never convicted because charges were dropped. Maybe he threatened to do more harm if they persisted.”
I frowned. “When did these assaults happen? Who were the hapless victims?”
“It's been a number of years—twenty, to be exact. The bar guy was Sammie Sunng and the former girlfriend was Chrissie Foolsmore. I haven't checked to see where they live or if they're even on Oahu. But this stuff happened long ago, so I'm not sure it's worth pursuing.”
I was inclined to agree, but it couldn't hurt. “We have time, so we'll try and track them down. If we luck in, we luck in; if we don't, we don't. Anything else?”
“I left the most interesting for last,” she chuckled dryly. “D'anger was in the pokey for a wee spell in 2006 for a misdemeanor—specifically, public intoxication and disorderly conduct.”
“Sounds like Boy-Toy Bob was no prize back when.”
“From the photos I've seen, he was—still is—hunky. Women must fall for him habitually. But if he's anything like he used to be, I don't get why they'd stick around.”
“He may have changed,” I said cynically.
“Anything's possible, darling,” she intoned.
“Did you see anything about him being left-handed? Apparently, the angle of Loretta-Lee's wounds point to a southpaw.”
“I'll see what I can find out tomorrow.”
We exchanged farewells and I peered down the corridor to see Xavier stepping from the room.
We reached him as he waved to someone inside and turned, his expression tense.
“How is he?” Rey asked.
“He looks like hell.” He cursed under his breath. “He's got a broken nose, two missing teeth, and a fractured arm. Fortunately, he's drugged up. Unfortunately, he can't talk. The doc let me say a couple of words before he pushed me back into the hallway.”
“Do you think we can say a quick hello?” Linda asked.
He jerked a thumb sideward. “That's about all Doc Waters'll allow you.”
The three of us strolled inside and greeted the somber-faced, silver-haired physician, who was checking a sleeping patient in a body cast in the next bed.
He nodded once and marched from the room.
“What a mess,” Rey murmured, scanning Angus' battered face. “How you doin', you old bulldog, you?”
Bleary toad-brown eyes opened and looked from Linda to Rey, and closed again.
She patted a beefy, bruised hand and we returned to the corridor to find Xavier on his Smartphone.
When he finally strolled over, I asked if he could get us names and numbers for a couple of Loretta-Lee's closest friends.
“Give me an hour or so.” He peered up and down the quiet corridor, and sighed. “I think I'll stick around for a while.”
Linda squeezed his shoulder. “He's not likely to talk anytime soon.”
He shrugged. “I feel a need … you know?”
Rey smiled grimly. “Been there, done that.”
* * *
On a far wall, a large plumeria-shaped clock said it was just after nine. The three of us were in a busy coffee shop, watching misty rain embrace dense fog when Xavier called with numbers for two names: Hessie Tente and Fran Teak-Lee.
Rey insisted on taking one, Linda took the other, so I sipped chamomile tea and watched patrons dialog and/or text.
Appearing energized, my cousin slipped back alongside me on a hard cushioned bench. “Hessie, a high-school friend of Loretta-Lee, said she'd met Bob four times in the last couple years—two barbecues, one birthday party, and someone's wedding. She's not a fan. He likes to drink, but so does Loretta-Lee. And he's quite possessive. Always had an eye on her when he didn't have an arm around her. Apparently, he told her off on more than one occasion when he thought a guy was chatting her up or she him.”
“So that explosive temper still exists, but may not be as evident or pronounced,” I commented dryly.
“Maybe he took anger management courses,” Rey said flatly, watching Linda approach the table. “Any luck?”
“Fran thinks Bob's drea-eamy.” She rolled her eyes. “He can be fairly civil and charming, but he can also be really callous. She's heard him chastise and insult Loretta-Lee a couple of times. The impression he gave Fran was that he viewed Loretta-Lee as his property. Given he has a rich daddy and a successful boating business, courtesy of said rich daddy, I'm guessing he thinks he's privileged and all that.”
“Quite probably,” I murmured, thinking back. “Didn't Angus call him a manipulator in Ald's office?”
Rey nodded. “That would be in keeping with Hessie telling us about the eye and arm—holding his girlfriend under his more-than-protective wing.”
“I wonder if Loretta-Lee wanted out of the relationship,” Linda mused aloud.
“You mean, she developed common sense?” Rey asked sarcastically.
“If it was Bob who took a bat to her—”
“It was,” she affirmed.
“If it was Bob who took a bat to her, there had to have been a major reason—like her telling him the relationship was over.”
“Only Loretta-Lee or Bob can confirm that,” I told Linda with a sour smile.
“Is anyone actively looking for Bobby-Boy?”
Linda and I glanced at Rey, and then each other.
“Maybe we should,” my cousin answered before either one of us could respond.
* * *
It happened quickly, so much so, it
was a blur. Instead of heading home and getting much-needed sleep, the Triple Threat Investigation Agency gals decided to track down Mr. Robert Ira D'anger.
He wasn't at the boating business, Bob's Best Betcha-Dollah Boats (like really?) but, with a little coaxing from B-actress Rey, a smitten security guard provided two employee names. It was after ten, but we called anyway.
Terry Moola, a Boats salesperson, lived in the Kapahulu area. The guy sounded as if he'd been slugging back beers. “Hey babe, you as luscious sweet as you sound?”
With a flat smile, Rey looked from me to Linda and shook her head. “Sweeter, Terry hon. Way sweeter.”
“You up for a drink tonight?”
We had Moola on Jeep speaker (we'd decided to be mobile, in the event we needed to head somewhere fast).
“Maybe. First, though, I need to know if your boss is around. He's kinda like MIA.”
There were a couple of seconds of thick, tense silence. His response was preceded by a grunt. Or maybe it was a burp. “He's my partner, not boss. We own the business together.”
“Really? I heard Daddy bought it for him.”
“Daddy did,” he replied dryly. “But Bob's never been a good businessman. He nearly lost Best Betcha-Dollah Boats three years ago, so I bought in.”
“And you turned it around, I bet,” she said sunnily.
That brought a smile to the tone. “You bet right. Say, what's your name again?”
“Marilyn.”
“Ni-ice.”
“Yeah.” My cousin stuck an index finger in her mouth.
Linda snickered.
“So, Terry hon, I need to talk to him about money he owes me. Can you help out and tell me where he is right now?”
“Can you meet me for that drink?”
“Sure. Let's make it Jollie's in twenty minutes, corner of Kuhio and Kaiulani. Now, tell me where he is so I can call and get this nonsense settled.”
“Will you show?” The man sounded like a teenager filled with hope that the poster girl of his dreams might actually accept his request.
Rey glanced from me to Linda and shrugged. “I'll show.”
“Awesome! I'll get a couple of numbers for you. He just got a new number on account of someone he's been trying to avoid, but he may not be answering because he's helping a pal paint his townhouse over in Kapolei.”