Photo Finish

by Terry Ambrose

  “You have your own loss, yah? That why Kimu ask you do this. Help you remember. What else he say?”

  “Um, that he’d spoken with Roger. That Roger was with him.”

  She grabbed a tissue from a box on the hutch behind her, then wiped at her nose. Her shoulders began to shake as she buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Her body shook and she began to hiccup. She sat up straight and forced a weak smile. “Oh, no,” she said.

  I managed to get out a whisper, “I’m sorry.”

  “I was afraid maybe this so.” She glanced at Alexander. “You sure about Kimu?”

  Alexander nodded. “He very clear.”

  A knowing look spread across her face. She took a heavy breath. “Kimu never lie.”

  Alexander said, “I think Great-Grampa Kimu teaching McKenna to deal with his past. Not be so grumpy all the time.”

  She thought for a moment. “Kimu got more planned than that.” She gazed out the window, then back at us. “I be right back.”

  She stood and walked into the other room. A few minutes later, she returned, seeming more composed. Her right hand clutched something in her apron pocket. “I think you should know about someone. His name Dadrian Daniels. He know Roger and Mr. Shapiro for many years. They pretty good friends until this Daniels got into drugs. Then, they start pull apart. Roger and Daniels had argument day before Roger disappeared. Daniels say, ‘You going to pay for this. Bad things happen to people who do bad things.’”

  Well, well. Another mark on the “guilty checklist” for Daniels. Get enough of those and the cops would put him away forever. “Do you know what he was referring to?”

  She shook her head. “It hard for me to believe he do something to Roger. But he was plenty mad at time.”

  Alexander said, “You said Daniels did drugs at one time, yah?”

  “He got busted for pushing to high school kids. Did time in prison, then got paroled. When he got out, he said he learned lesson. He go straight.”

  Something wasn’t making sense to me. “Why would a guy who’d gone straight threaten your husband. Especially if they were friends for a long time.”

  “Roger never wanted talk about it. He say Daniels making things up. He kine paranoid since he get out of prison. Always think someone after him.”

  “Was there? I mean, was someone really after him?”

  “He not the one who dead, yah?”

  “Maybe Kimu want you talk to Daniels, see if he have something to do with Roger’s death?”

  Alexander nodded and grabbed Mrs. Lau’s hand. He squeezed and said, “If this Daniels killed Roger that would put McKenna in great big danger. He can’t do that.”

  “Not if he don’t accuse him. He just talk with him, maybe Daniels not even here when Roger killed.”

  Alexander nodded eagerly. He was being mighty free with my life. What if something went wrong? What if I accidentally spilled the beans? What if—the story of my life, the past few years.

  Alexander glanced at me. “I think maybe that what Great-Grampa Kimu have in mind. You were a big-time skip tracer. You’re a good liar. You gotta see this through, brah.”

  Great, now I had a license to lie. What other credentials could I compile? How about a license to skip town? Philadelphia looked good. Maybe New Jersey. Or Bar Harbor, Maine. That would give me more than 5,000 miles. I could get a place with no phone. No TV. I was wondering how well I’d adjust to freezing my ass off in the winter when Alexander seized my hand. Oh, crap, I saw a group hug lurking on the horizon.

  He squeezed, “McKenna? You going see this through? Or you going do what you always do and run?”

  “Why aren’t we turning this over to the cops?”

  Emma said, “I already call them. After you here last time. I report Roger missing. They tell me not much hope for finding him unless he return home on his own.”

  “Did you tell them to search around Sacred Falls State Park?”

  Her blank stare gave me my answer. “Why?”

  “Call them back and tell them to start looking for him in those mountains. If they ask why, and they will, tell them a friend saw a body get thrown from a plane. Have them check with CrimeStoppers, there’s a report on file already. You just can’t tell them about Alexander.”

  Alexander nodded. “Yah, that would end my business.” He turned to me. “So you gonna do it?”

  There was the missing body. The surfing, dead grandfather. The Fall Leaf Tour. I cleared my throat. “I, uh, was thinking how pretty the leaves on the East Coast are in the Fall. They have that big Tour thing you can do and—”

  “McKenna.” He sounded like my fifth-grade teacher again—right before she threatened to send me to the principal’s office.

  “Roger would be kine grateful if you do this.” Emma had teary tracks on both cheeks.

  My fifth-grade teacher had let me off the hook after I’d promised Penny Sue Kapinski that I’d never snap her training bra again. I told myself that I wouldn’t mind freezing my ass off, but the truth was that I’d settled into island style. I’d adjusted to the weather and the slower pace. And now, I was starting to feel again. I sensed an emotional bond between Alexander and Emma. And one between Meyer, Shapiro and Roger.

  The voice that spoke was mine, but the attitude wasn’t the old McKenna. To make myself feel better, I told myself it was Kimu making my mouth move, possessing me and forcing out the words. “I think I have this Daniels' phone number in Shapiro’s business records.”

  “You won’t need that.” She pulled out what she’d been hiding in her pocket.

  The expression on her face told me she was handing over her last hope of finding Roger alive. My heart broke for this woman I barely knew as I took the small scrap of paper. It was the key to her loss—and she’d entrusted it to me. Through watery eyes, I read the initials “DD” and a telephone number on the paper.

  “That his cell. You can reach him anytime with that number.”

  Yup, it was official, Kimu had taken over control of my mind and he was determined to get me a Darwin Award. I’d disappear from the human gene pool without ever making a contribution. As depressing as that seemed while I watched the bond between these two, I had to admit one thing. I’d almost forgotten about the hunt. How addictive it was. And that I was a hunt junkie.

  Chapter 24

  I admit it, I’d originally agreed to help Harris because I’d found her attractive and the thought of spending time with her perked me up. But despite my concerns, something else was driving me forward. It was the old adrenaline rush—a thrill I’d abandoned when my life imploded. But just like an alcoholic, once I’d gotten a taste of my old addiction, my resistance melted.

  I wanted the drive back to Honolulu to be a three-way planning session between Alexander, Meyer, and me. I began with, “It’s got to be one of three people using that plane. This Daniels character, he’s my first choice. He tried to rent it, got turned down, then killed Bob.”

  Alexander said, “Sounds weak to me.”

  “I agree. It’s a lousy motive. Makes no sense. Kill a guy for a stupid drug run?” I shrugged. “What about Stone or Willows? Is there anyone else who would have had access or known that it was available?”

  Alexander said, “Find out who’s using the plane and we’ve found the killer.”

  “Because they used it to drop Roger’s body.”

  From the back seat, Meyer said, “How come you two want to go see a movie thriller? I thought you was going to talk to this Daniels? I don’t like those ones with lots of blood.”

  I twisted around to face him. “Don’t you have hearing aids?”

  “Sure, but they ain’t working very good today. Why, did I miss something?” He paused. “It probably would be a waste of money for me to go to a movie today, anyways.”

  Uh, make that a two-way planning session between me and Alexander, combined with a few detours for Meyer. We finally agreed that I would, oddly enough, tell the truth—sort of. Emma Lau had asked me to con
tact Daniels to see whether he had seen Roger lately. I’d ask him where he’d been the past few days. I’d work that into asking what the bad thing was that Roger had done. And, the tricky one, why had it made Daniels angry? All that assumed he’d even talk to me.

  Alexander’s point of view was that I’d just be using my old skills. It would be easy for someone with my talents to manipulate Daniels, he said. It’d be easy to wear a dancing bear costume on Waikiki Beach, too. I wasn’t about to do anything that stupid, but I had made a promise to Emma. I also realized that if my circle of friends grew much more, I’d go broke buying Christmas cards. That move to the East Coast was looking better.

  Alexander said, “Why don’t you try Daniels right now? Maybe you can rule him out? Maybe he was gone and couldn’t do nothing.”

  I pulled out the scrap of paper from Mrs. Lau. “Sure. Let’s see where Mr. Daniels is right this minute.” I dialed the number and waited. Three rings later, I was listening to his greeting.

  “Hey, thanks for calling, but I’m busy right now. Leave a message.”

  “Uh, Mr. Daniels, my name is McKenna. I’m a, uh, friend of Roger Lau and Bob Shapiro. Can you call me when you get a chance? I’d like to ask you a few questions.” I left my number and said thanks.

  “I got to drop you off. I have a late tour this afternoon.”

  “What? You got me involved in this, and now you’re bailing out on me?”

  “Just for the afternoon. I be back on the job tomorrow, boss.” He gave me that infectious gleaming-white smile of his.

  I turned towards the rear seat and said, “Looks like we’re grounded for the afternoon, unless you drive.”

  Meyer perked up, “Me? Yeah, I can drive. What’s wrong with Alejandro?”

  “Alexander. He’s got to work and I don’t drive.”

  Meyer’s eyes got big and he practically blasted me out of the car. “What kind of manure pile is that? How do you get anywhere?”

  “I’ve got two feet and a monthly bus pass.”

  Meyer chuckled. “Yeah, and a Hawaiian taxi that looks a lot like this truck. Let’s go get my car.”

  Alexander didn’t hesitate for a second. He made the next right and we headed off to Meyer’s place. Alexander looked pretty happy that I had a new mode of transportation. Obviously, he wasn’t getting an adrenaline rush from the hunt like the one that ran through my veins.

  At Meyer’s apartment building, Alexander made a hasty exit. That left the two of us to ponder what to do next. Meyer wanted to check his messages; I suggested going to Willows Construction, the company owned by Frank Willows. Because it was almost two and it would probably take us a half-hour to drive there, we agreed to do that first, and then come back to check messages.

  As it turns out, Meyer was a surprisingly good driver. Sure, he couldn’t hear squat, but he paid attention and drove carefully. He didn’t seem to mind the horns blaring around him, probably because he couldn’t hear them. And he did motor through a slightly red light—but just once. So, basically, he did okay. We didn’t hit anything, we only got two one-finger salutes and a couple of glares from other drivers as they zoomed past us on their way to their next accident.

  I nearly jumped out of my seat when my hip began to vibrate. The ring of the phone started low, then got louder. I glanced at the display. Dadrian Daniels. I quickly reiterated the canned reason for calling. He sounded cooperative, almost eager.

  “You knew Bob, huh? Who wound up with his stuff?”

  Okay, that’s not why I said I was calling, but he hadn’t told me to take a flying leap off of a tall building, so the game was on. “Me. I’ve got it secured in a storage unit.”

  “I’m going to miss him. But, he did have something of mine that I’d like to get back.”

  I thought about the records at my apartment and couldn’t imagine what he’d want. I wasn’t interested in giving any of it away, but I did want to know what he was interested in. If he was motivated, this might be his pressure point, the thing that would make him talk. “Why don’t you come by tomorrow morning around nine? I can take you to it.”

  “Tomorrow’s not good, how about this afternoon?”

  “Oh, that could be a problem. I’m not home and don’t know when I’ll get back.”

  “How about five? Will you be home by then?”

  I checked the time. That was more than two hours from now. And I could always call and cancel. “That should be okay. If I can’t make it, I’ll call you.”

  “You’ve got all of Shapiro’s stuff, right?”

  “In storage. The landlord handed off everything that wasn’t thrown away or donated.” I winked at Meyer, who glanced at me for only a second, then focused back on the road.

  Daniels said, “Nothing’s left in Shapiro’s apartment?”

  Ah ha, he didn’t know that the apartment was empty. He couldn’t have been one of Meyer’s visitors. “Right.”

  “Great, see you at five. What’s your address?”

  I gave him the information and we disconnected.

  Meyer said, “Well?”

  “We’re going to meet him at my place at five. You know, it’s really odd. He didn’t know that Bob’s apartment was empty. If he’d have been one of the one’s who broke in—”

  “What if he was lying?”

  “Why? What would that accomplish? No, he’s not the one who broke in.”

  “I won’t have time to check messages if we have to be at your place by five.”

  “Do it remotely.”

  Meyer grumbled, “Can’t remember the damned code.” Then, added, “What if he ain’t as stupid as you think he is and goes to your place ahead of time?”

  Uh oh. I hadn’t thought about that. I called Harris.

  “Hey, McKenna. Howzit?”

  I laughed. “Getting the lingo, huh? Look, I’ve just set up a meeting with a guy who’s interested in something of his that he said Shapiro had. Can you be at my place at five?”

  “Sure. I’m just hanging out, working on my tan.”

  Sweet. “And Harris, if you see anyone wandering around or looking suspicious before I get there, call the cops right away. I don’t think this guy is dangerous, but be safe. Don’t question, just call 9-1-1.”

  We arrived at the construction company just after 2:30. The first thing I noticed was the size of the business. Willows owned a lot of equipment. There were backhoes and small caterpillars, several trucks with Willows Construction signs on the side and guys carting tools into a large storage area off to one side. I hadn’t realized it until now, but I’d seen the willow tree logo on construction jobs while gazing out the bus window waiting to get to my destination. In some perverse way, Willows having an interest in Shapiro’s small charter service made sense. He was helping to turn these islands into nothing but condos and hotels, why not get some other sources of revenue going?

  The office was a mobile home that had been hauled in and converted for business use. It had a sign over the door that proclaimed it as Willows Construction Office and it had construction-type guys wandering past. They reminded me of a bunch of kids kicking rocks as they waited for the end of their PE class. Meyer parked, then peered straight ahead as a worker crossed in front of the car. He appeared riveted by something, but I had no idea what.

  I said, “What’s the matter?”

  “That guy that just walked by? He’s one of the one’s who came to my apartment.”

  “You’ve got to be mistaken. He works here. Look, if you want to wait here, that’s fine. This is no big deal, a couple of questions and we’re out of here.”

  “He’s one of them I tell you.”

  I rolled my eyes. These guys all looked alike. Big. Burly. Did I mention big? I’d imagined this to be a fly-by-night operation, but that was obviously wrong. Anything this size would have to be a legitimate business. The best thing would be to meet Frank Willows, ask how he’d become involved with Bob Shapiro, get Meyer to realize he was wrong about the construction guy, then mo
ve our scrawny butts along before someone mistook us for vagrants.

  “Look, let’s go inside and meet Willows. I’ve got a couple of questions to ask, then we can take what we know to the cops. I’ve seen this company doing jobs all around town. He’s legit, I tell you.”

  We shuffled by a couple of workers who stood between us and the door. I smiled at them and said, “Got any openings?”

  They both laughed as they made way. We climbed the few stairs and opened the door to the office. To watch us, you might even think we knew what we were doing.

  The inside of the office was paneled in a dark wood. The walls were covered with photographs of construction jobs and awards that the company had received. A perky receptionist greeted us. She wore a blue tee shirt emblazoned with a large arrow pointing upward and text that read, “Hey, dummy, my face is up there.”

  Uh oh, mea culpa. My cheeks felt hot as I glanced up. Her hair was straight and dark with blond streaks that screamed, “Did you notice me?” At least, that’s what it said to me. It probably told the boys her age that she was hot and interested.

  “Welcome to Willows Construction, may I help you?”

  I said, “We’d like to see Frank Willows, if possible.”

  She nodded and said, “Let me see if he’s available.”

  Okay, so I committed another major faux pas by watching how her skintight jeans wiggled as she crossed the room. Even Meyer poked me in the ribs and cocked his head in her direction. I just nodded and enjoyed the view.

  A minute later, she returned, followed by a tall man with a well-tanned face and a subdued Hawaiian shirt. He had dark wavy hair and a neatly trimmed mustache. His tan was the result of either working, or more likely, playing, in the sun much of the day. He said, “I’m Frank Willows. And you are?”

  I had the immediate sensation of a spider crawling down my back. He fit the description of the man that Cousin Dijon had described. “McKenna. And this is my friend, Meyer Herschel.”