His eyes darted in Meyer's direction for a split second when I introduced him. Did he recognize the name? The sense of confidence I’d felt outside had evaporated. The tightening of his jaw and cheeks also had me worried. We couldn’t stop now though; he knew who we were, so I went on. “We’re here on behalf of Mr. Robert Shapiro, Jr. I understand you’re one of his business partners.” Just a question or two, then we could go. That’s what I’d said.
He fingered his mustache, then said, “Let’s go into my office.”
The receptionist parked her well-proportioned self back at her desk. She gave me a little wave as we followed her boss to his office. The phone rang and she greeted the caller in a cheerful receptionist’s voice. Inside the office, Frank Willows closed the door.
His desk was large and strewn with plans, papers, and other construction-boss-type detritus. I’m sure he considered his office organized, but to me it seemed like pure chaos. Photographs of projects adorned the darkly paneled walls. Framed documents, which appeared to be proclamations of some sort, were scattered throughout. I focused in on the closest one.
“That’s a pretty nice thank you note.”
Willows managed a smile. “Thanks, City Hall loves their proclamations.” He extended an open hand at a couple of chairs, where we perched while he folded himself into the big one behind his desk.
He eyed me suspiciously. “What’s your interest in Bob Shapiro?”
“We’re here regarding his estate.”
“What estate?”
“I mean, when someone dies, someone else has to take care of their affairs. That’s him.” I pointed at Meyer.
He leaned forward on the desk. “What do you mean died? I haven’t talked to Bob in a couple of weeks, but the last thing I knew, he was alive and well. We had dinner at the Pikake Terrace at the Princess Kaiulani.”
Was this an act? I said, “Never been there.”
“You can have dinner poolside, listen to some good Hawaiian music. Tourists like it. Bob did, too.”
I noticed that he used the past tense. As I reached forward and pulled one of his business cards from the little wooden holder, I said, “That was a couple of weeks ago?”
“Yeah, the—” He grabbed his PDA and tapped the screen. “The eighth. We met for drinks at 6:30, then had dinner. Finished up around nine.”
I watched his eyes as I said, “Shapiro was in a hit-and-run about nine.”
The crows feet at the corners of his eyes crinkled in recognition. Was it sorrow? Anger? Or self-satisfaction? “Really? Did he die right away?”
It wasn’t the words that struck me as odd, but the tone of voice. It was almost as if he’d wanted Shapiro to suffer. We were into dangerous territory. What to do now? Ask a question, then get out. “Were you two close?”
He shrugged. “Just business partners. It was a good arrangement for all of us.”
“All of us?”
“Yeah, me, Stone, Shapiro.”
“And what about Roger Lau?”
His jaw twitched and his tone became sarcastic. “Him? He was just the maintenance guy. Ornery little shit, if you ask me. Always pushing himself in where he didn’t belong. These Hawaiians, they. . .” When he continued, the sarcastic tone was gone and he was the businessman once again. “Well, enough of that. Can I help you with anything else?”
Arrogance is one of my hot buttons, it just irritates me to no end and makes me crazy. This disdain for the Hawaiians struck me as pure arrogance, the kind of haole attitude that gave all of us a bad name. Maybe because I’d recently been called out on that myself, I was doubly sensitive. Right now, my anger was hot enough to fry an egg. It was people like Willows who had made these islands so expensive that the locals had to work three jobs just to pay the bills. I didn’t think he had to work three jobs to survive, and I’d call the locals anything but lazy. In a snotty tone, I said, “You can tell me what you did after dinner with Bob Shapiro.”
Willows sat up straight in his chair. His nostrils flared, and I think that if he’d have been holding a pencil, he might have snapped it in half. He barked, “Who the hell did you say you were? Are you a cop? Lawyer?”
I’d one-upped him and it felt good. I calmly replied, “No, Mr. Willows, I’m just an interested party.” Meyer and I stood and turned in unison; we left him staring after us. It was a movie-perfect exit. I’d have to congratulate Meyer on his timing. And me on my calm—well, at the end, anyway. We’d been right in sync. I read the receptionist’s tee shirt again, then winked at her as we left. She smiled and appeared ready to say something cute when the color in her face drained and the smile disappeared.
“Excuse me,” she said as she pushed past us.
She closed the door as Willows started yelling. We hightailed it outside. On the landing at the top of the stairs, I turned to Meyer and we gave each other a high-five. He gave me an appreciative nod as we climbed down the stairs. I stopped and stared straight ahead. “Holy shit,” I said.
“What?”
Two cars down from where we’d parked was a black sedan. I walked to the back of the car and read the license plate—HSKYFN. It wasn’t High Sky Fan as Dijon had remembered it, but Husky Fan. The car had been hidden from us on the way in by a big pickup truck. We hadn’t seen it as we’d entered the office because we’d been facing the other direction. I began to inspect the car as quickly as I could. I pulled out a scrap of paper and wrote down the license plate number. I’d made it all the way around the car and was on the passenger’s side, just by the windshield when I spotted a parking permit. It was for the Waikiki Sands Condominiums. It was one of those permits that people hang from the rear view mirror, but had been tossed onto the dashboard and probably forgotten.
I jumped when Frank Willows bellowed behind me. “What do you think you’re doing? Get out of here, you son of a bitch. You come onto my property and start prowling around like you own the place. Get out of here before I call the cops!”
Meyer strode over to Willows and stood before him. The top of Meyer’s head was about even with Willow’s chin, but the little guy stared straight up into his eyes. Slowly, deliberately, he said, “Keep your morons away from my apartment.” With that, he turned and motioned for me to get in the car.
I opened the passenger door, but before I ducked in I called out. “Oh, about calling the cops, I’ll take care of that for you!”
Willows exploded in our direction, but Meyer locked the doors and started the engine. For a second I thought Willows might hop onto one of the big Caterpillar backhoes and hoe us to death, but he held his position and stood, arms across his chest as we drove away.
Meyer said, “I thought we were just going to ask a few questions, then get out. Now you’ve got him pissed off.”
“Me? You’re the one who threatened him with that ‘keep your boys away bit.’”
“Morons. I said, morons.”
“Whatever you say. I don’t think he likes having little guys like you stand up to him.”
Meyer chuckled. “I guess not. He didn’t much like you either.”
I read the name of the condominium complex I’d scribbled down and wondered where this would lead. I thought about the encounter. I really didn’t have an excuse for my actions other than testosterone had kicked in. Rather than using that one, I said, “Alexander’s kupuna made me do it.”
Chapter 25
I couldn’t shake the image of Frank Willows glaring at us. Maybe I’d gotten the wrong impression. His anger could be caused by an attempt to hide his involvement or by the indignation of an innocent man accused. Which was it? One thing was for sure, due to his prominence on the island, I couldn’t afford to be wrong.
It was almost 4:30 when we made it to my place. I checked with Harris first—no strangers had been around. I grabbed my mail from the box—just bills. Checked the machine for messages—none. I filled two glasses with water—one for Meyer and one for myself. We went outside to relax on the lanai. He grabbed the chair in the shade and
I took the sun, which warmed my face.
A few minutes later, Harris joined us. She, too, took a spot in the sun.
Meyer said, “You two aren’t worried about skin cancer?”
Unfortunately, the sun couldn’t warm away the cold bigotry of people like Frank Willows. “I’m more afraid of people like that jerk. He could drop you into the foundation at a construction site and you’d never be heard from again.”
“He might just be angry about being accused of something he didn’t do. You did kind of jump the gun there.”
Harris said, “Was this Willows? He was pretty upset, huh?”
“I did hit a nerve. Just wish I knew which one it was.”
“You should stay out of the sun,” said Meyer.
“Dermys do a helluva business here,” I said. “My job’s to help them send their kids to college.” Harris and I gave each other a high five. We all turned at the sound of a car door slamming in the parking lot. “What time is it?”
Meyer glanced at his watch. “Jesus, you don’t wear a watch either. Ten ‘til five. For chrissakes, he doesn’t drive, doesn’t wear a watch. Damn native customs.”
I chuckled. I stopped wearing a watch the day I quit skip tracing; it had nothing to do with coming to the islands. A man wearing a tee shirt with the familiar plumeria pattern in a wide white stripe across dark-blue material and jeans faded at the knees rounded the corner. He wasn’t one of my tenants, so he must be Daniels. His arms were well-tanned and muscular, portraying a man used to hard outdoor labor. He wore black tennis shoes and a pair of wraparound sunglasses.
To my left, I heard Harris growl. Oh, great, she sees a hunk and there goes our relationship. His phone rang just as he turned the corner. He raised his sunglasses and checked its display, then hit a button on the side of the phone to stop the ringing.
“Women,” he said. “Hey, where can I find McKenna’s apartment?”
“This is it. Meet you at the front door. Go around there.” I pointed to my right as I stood.
Harris and Meyer followed me into the living room and waited off to the side while I went to the door. “You must be Dadrian Daniels.”
“You McKenna?”
I nodded. “Guilty. Come in.” To my relief, we shook hands the old-fashioned way. His handshake was firm, yet a bit clammy. When he was through the door, I introduced him. “This is a friend of mine, Harris Galvin. And this is Meyer Herschel, the manager over at Bob Shapiro’s apartment.”
While they pressed the flesh, I dragged a couple of dining room chairs the ten feet to the living room where we all sat. We put Daniels on the couch so he could see the boxes stacked around the dining room table. Harris grabbed the other half of the couch, presumably so she could observe his reactions from the side. The expression on his face said, “I get the point.”
I started things off. “So you and Shapiro went back a ways?”
His two-day beard growth and his attitude said, “This ain’t no job interview, pal, let’s get down to business.” But we had something he wanted, so he was polite, even though he kept peering past me at the boxes. “Air Force. We trained together.”
“So you were a pilot, too?”
“I got booted out. I ran into—some problems.”
Meyer jumped in, “From what I hear that might be drugs. You do drugs, Mr. Daniels?”
Harris flinched. Daniels' attitude wasn’t one of anger, but more analytical. “I was young and away from home for the first time. Started running with the wrong crowd. Bob tried to get me to stop, but it was too late. I got busted and that was the end of my flying career.”
I said, “For one offense?”
His jaw tightened. “It was a big one. Anyway, Bob had something of mine that I’d like to get back. Can I see his stuff, then I’ll get out of your hair.”
I said, “Yah, we can do that in a minute. But first, I’ve heard that Bob was having dinner with one of his partners the night he was run down. Do you know anything about that?” During my years of skip tracing, I’d used my Third Skip Tracing Secret a lot. If I was right, Daniels would be like all the others and quite willing to talk about other people. Once the floodgates had been opened, the hard part was getting them to stop.
“About the partners? Yeah, I know a lot.”
“Like what?”
“Like they’re bad news, both of them. Willows, he’s got a temper. And Stone, he’s got an attitude. He’s a real big MySpace freak.”
Meyer said, “He like science fiction?”
Harris shook her head and hid a smile; she probably thought Meyer was cute. I winced, so did Daniels. I said, “The online service?”
Daniels corrected me, “Social web site. Stone’s a braggart and a jackass. Guy’s a real moron ‘cause he gets off on putting info out there that he shouldn’t. It was a bad deal for Bob.”
“Why’s that?”
“Cause they were taking advantage of him. That plane cost him a bundle. It also cost a lot to run it. Every time they took a flight, he lost the income from a paying customer and he had to pay to run the plane. Plus there was his lost time. Really bad deal.”
I said, “Weren’t you supposed to go on a flight with him the day before he died?”
“Yeah, it was kind of a reunion present for me and my girlfriend. He canceled me at the last minute.”
Meyer leaned forward in his chair and stared at Daniels. “He canceled you because he heard you’d been busted for selling dope and had just gotten out of jail. And you wanted to fly the plane without him.”
Daniels fidgeted in his seat, then sighed. “Shit. That was you, huh? He told me someone had run a check and found out about it. Yeah, he dropped me because of that. He was afraid that I’d try to smuggle drugs onto the plane. Said he couldn’t trust me anymore. You want to know who he shouldn’t have trusted? Look at the partners.”
Daniels was growing agitated now, but as long as I could push him for more info, I would. He still hadn’t told us what he wanted, and I intended to avoid the subject until I had more answers. “We just had an encounter with Willows. Talk about a temper.”
“Same with Stone. Though Willows is worse because he holds a grudge. And he dwells on stuff until he’s ready to blow. Guy ought to be on meds.”
“It sounds like you had a bad encounter with him also?”
He made a dismissive gesture. “Not me personally. I witnessed a blowup between Bob and those two once. Not that long ago, either.”
“When was that?”
“Two days before Bob got run down. They all met at his apartment.”
Meyer suddenly perked up. “I remember that! The two of them showed up together. I don’t remember seeing you there.”
“I was the virtual fly on the wall.” He smiled. “Bob used a webcam to record it, and I was watching from my place. It was a slick setup and I downloaded it all to disk. Bob put it on a flash drive. They never even knew they were being recorded. Assholes were so focused on being tough guys, they never had a clue.”
Meyer barked, “Why’d he choose you? He didn’t trust you!”
I was surprised at Meyer’s anger.
Daniels worked his lower lip between his teeth. “Bob and me, we had an understanding. At least, until he heard about my arrest. That’s all I’ll say.”
My instincts told me to move on. “What was the argument about?”
“I told you, Stone was taking advantage of the agreement. Lots of inter-island flights that chewed up tons of Bob’s time.”
“But he just runs a music store.”
“He runs a chain of music stores.” He began ticking off locations on his fingers. “Maui, Kauai, two on the Big Island, and one here. He was using Bob as a way to move stock between stores.”
Harris, who had remained silent until this point, leaned forward and crossed her legs. The movement was slow and subtle, but it instantly shattered the male domination of the conversation. She said, “What do you mean, stock?” Her tone was slow, sensuous, and made the last wo
rd sound almost dirty.
Daniels wet his lips and I noticed perspiration forming on his forehead. Whatever he wanted, he knew he wasn’t going to get it until we were done. I said, “What stock?”
“Musical instruments. Mostly violins. He teaches violin also.”
Meyer and I exchanged a glance. Harris sat back on the couch and nodded to herself. It seemed so innocent on the surface. But, how many violins did you need on a little island? I said, “Violins? How many of those can you sell here?”
“They’re, uh, valuable. Kind of like collector’s items. You know how people are these days, anything and everything.”
“That’s BS and you know it.”
He shrugged. “That’s what he did. And, uh, actually, that’s what I wanted to get from Bob’s stuff. There was a violin.”
I blinked. “What?” I turned to Meyer. “You know of any violin in his stuff?”
Meyer’s brow furrowed, then he asked, “How big is it? Is it in a box?”
Daniels nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah. The boxes are about this long by this high.” He motioned with his hands to indicate size.
I remembered the shipping label from the plane’s cargo hold. Now, we knew what Stone had been moving. Or at least, what Daniels was willing to tell us Stone was moving.
Someone’s cell phone began to ring. Harris reached for her hip and silenced hers. “Sorry, I have another appointment. I’m going to have to go in a few minutes.”
We all nodded our understanding, not that she needed our approval.
Meyer said, “Brown cardboard?”
Daniels nodded again.
Meyer’s wrinkled jaw worked back and forth. “Nope. Didn’t see nothing like that. And I cleaned out his entire apartment.”
The blood rushed to Daniels' face and he glared at us. “What do you mean you haven’t seen it. I left it with Bob. It was his insurance. Besides, you just described it.”
“No, you did,” said Meyer. “I just asked if it was in a cardboard box. Sorry, Mr. Daniels, but I didn’t see anything like that. I don’t have any use for a violin anymore. I can’t hardly hear.”
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