"Fine. Keawe surfed into the courtroom with Kai.”
“Wait—he surfed . . .”
“Trust me. It was weird. The rest of it is nothing more than Kimu messing with my head."
"So you say. What else?"
It was time to fall back to McKenna's Ninth Skip Tracing Secret—when you're cornered, create a distraction. Right now, I had just the bait I needed. "You assumed the killer was a woman. Yah?”
“Sure. In my PI course, Mr. Marlowe covered the differences in how men and women commit murder.”
“He’s wrong. Look at this.” I showed him the screen of my laptop with the statistics. He read, blinked, then reread the page. “Oh, man. That kind of blows my whole theory.”
“Which was?”
“One of the nannies did it. I was leaning toward Maisy—you know, the quiet ones can be the most dangerous. She lost it when she thought her boss was going to find out she wasn’t straight. What made no sense was that it would be a lot easier to find a new job than kill someone.”
I sneered at Chance. “Let's see you try to find a job on this island.”
He turned his gaze to the floor and sighed. “It’s always been easier for me to find jobs than keep them. Anyway, we still don’t have a motive for a surfing instructor to kill off a woman he didn’t know.”
“How can we be sure of that? Let’s start by looking for connections.”
We each searched online for anything linking Keawe Ferguson with Trinity Kraft and found a big, fat nothing. An hour into the search, we agreed we were wasting time and needed to go to the North Shore. We broke for breakfast. For me, breakfast was always a production involving a bowl of gluten-free cereal topped with raisins, shredded coconut, gluten-free granola, and fresh fruit. When I'd downed the last of my breakfast, I called June. She answered while I was in the middle of a sip of orange juice.
“June Palakiko.”
“Hey, June, this is McKenna. Are you working already?”
“I’m never free of my job, McKenna. What can I help you with?”
“Keawe Ferguson. What can you tell me about him?”
There was a long pause. She sounded incredulous when she asked, “What could he possibly have to do with this?”
“I know, it seems far-fetched. But, let’s just say I have a hunch.” There was no need going into my reasoning—or the dream. That path would net me nothing more than a finger circling June's ear. Crazy-man-on-the-loose. Only a danger to himself. “How did you find him?”
“He came recommended by a friend. We asked around when Kai started showing promise and two friends told us he was the best.”
“Would you mind giving me their names?”
“You must be serious about this guy.”
“It’s a strong hunch.”
She paused. “It’s been a few years, but if my memory serves me, it was Cousin Carl. You know, Carl Lum. Kira Kapono recommended Keawe, too. You can't suspect either of them—they’re both good people.”
“No, no. I’m just looking for connections between Keawe and Trinity Kraft. It’s the old six degrees of separation thing.”
“I guess . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Was she uncertain? Definitely not the norm for an attorney.
A moment later, she was back, a barracuda on the attack. “You can’t make accusations. I’m warning you, if word gets out you're accusing them of something, they'll sue you for slander.”
“I don’t think they’re involved. Well, no more than you or I. They may, however, have made an introduction. What happened afterward would be nothing more than fate and attraction between the sexes. Look, I also heard the police are going to arrest Juliana.”
“I heard the same thing.”
“She’ll need an attorney.”
“I can’t take her case, it’s a conflict of interest.”
“Is it? Or is that just an excuse? I’m sure it would mean a lot to Kai.”
“Did you have any other questions?”
“Would you consider it, please?”
“Goodbye, McKenna.”
Our conversation was over and Carl’s shop wouldn’t open for at least another half hour. Time to man up, beat down my fear, and call Kira. In the past, I’d classified my exchanges with her as akin to being in a big-game shooting match. Each of us always tried to out-snark or outmaneuver the other. Lately, it felt as though we had settled into some sort of détente. It almost felt as though we were making an effort at being less confrontational. Like that would last.
“Howzit, McKenna? Alexander gone already.”
“That’s okay, I called to talk to you.”
“You not comin’ over talk story or nothin’, yah?”
“Are you inviting me?”
“You might be making’ you way into the ‘ohana, but we don't gotta be making nice all the time. You still working the murder for Kai?”
“I didn’t get fired yet. I called because I’ve got a question about Keawe Ferguson. I heard you recommended him as a surfing instructor to June.”
“Yah, a couple years ago June wanted to get Kai a bettah instructor. I asked around and someone told me about Keawe. He didn’t do nothin’ did he?”
“You don’t know him? Personally, I mean.”
“Nah, I only read about him. Wish I could remember who recommended him.”
“It wasn’t Carl Lum by any chance, was it?”
She thought for a moment. “You know, I think maybe so. Carl knows maybe more people than Alexander. I think he was the one. Yah, I’m sure of it.”
Mission accomplished. No casualties. Détente maintained. “Thanks, Kira, I’ll call Carl. I need to find Keawe to ask him if he knew Trinity Kraft.”
“He knew her. They was hanging out a couple weeks ago.”
“How do you know that?”
“It’s on her Facebook page.”
The little voice that’s my conscience—the one I call Bad McKenna—starting chanting in my ear. “Woohoo! You screwed up now.”
The other voice, Good McKenna, tried to counter Bad, but it was hopeless. Bad was right. I’d been to the page, seen the pictures, yet not found out who the people were.
I brought up Trinity Kraft’s Facebook page and asked Kira which photo she was talking about. Trinity had dozens of shots at the beach—always with a different hunky guy. Now that the possibility of the killer being a man was on the table, we needed to take a closer look at the men in Trinity Kraft's life.
“He the one wearing the dark blue shorts.”
Of course, it was the guy in the picture at the Tiki Trade. The one behind the bar. “And she’s feeling up his bicep.”
“Very hot, yah?”
I called Carl a short while later. He confirmed he had made the referral to June Palakiko. When I asked him if he knew whether Keawe and Trinity were seeing each other, he said he wasn’t sure. He also told me Keawe surfed and gave lessons in the mornings; he thought it would be easy to find Keawe at the Halei‘wa Surf Shop in the afternoon.
I went to Chance’s apartment. He was at his computer. I told him to bring up Trinity’s Facebook page and he swatted his forehead with his palm when he saw the picture. He raised both eyebrows and said, “What are we waiting for, McKenna?”
Good question.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Chance was frazzled by the time we arrived in Hale‘iwa. We'd had heavy traffic on the H-1 back in Honolulu, but there was something else going on with him. Whether he realized it or not, I suspected Chance was adjusting to the slower pace of island style.
On the other hand, I was pumped up. I’d had plenty of time to think during the drive, during which Chance and I had worked through the scenarios. He'd even loaned me his phone because he had a handy app which let me peruse Trinity’s profile and pictures. Once I had the hang of navigating, I started finding more photos of surfers Trinity hung out with. Unless I was mistaken, we had to be on the verge of breaking this case.
“You know, Chance, it appears Trin
ity had quite a fondness for bronzed skin, big pecs, and surfboards.”
“She was pretty hot, herself. I could see why they’d all get along—at least for a while.”
“I think you’ve hit the nail on the head. I’d bet one of these guys is the jealous type.”
We were just entering the business district in Hale‘iwa. This little two lane road was not Ferrari friendly. The car surged like a thoroughbred racehorse waiting for the starting gate to open each time Chance touched the gas. The poor guy was way too wound up from the drive. If this kept up, he'd be taking the bus, too.
I looked out the passenger's window, hoping Chance was okay. As we passed the entrance to the North Shore Marketplace, I said, "You know, I haven't been up here in a while. That's quite the upscale shopping center for this little town. Lots of galleries, surf shops, and restaurants."
Chance didn't respond. It looked like he was deep in thought. "Are you okay?" I asked.
“Yeah, I was just thinking out our conversation with Carl. Didn't he say he only sold the Aconitine to Juliana?”
"That's how I remember it. You know, there's something about Keawe as the killer—it didn't make sense. Why would a guy married to the girl of his dreams get involved with another woman?"
"Maybe it wasn't romantic. Maybe they were doing something else?"
"Either way, if they had a falling out, that's not necessarily a motive for murder. Why would he be the lead from my dream? It doesn't make sense, but Kimu hasn’t steered me wrong so far.”
“I thought you said he was obtuse.”
“Reminding others of what they’ve said is an unbecoming trait, Chance.”
“You do it.”
“That’s not becoming either. There’s the shop. Park the car, and stop reminding me of my faults.”
The Halei‘wa Surf Shop was in a small center with bright teal paint and white trim. Large display windows showed off the usual assortment of beach paraphernalia. The store had all the major North Shore sports covered—from surf and boogie boards to snorkel gear to bicycles. Of course, they also had clothing. It was everything a tourist would need to make their vacation memorable. If someone couldn’t find a way to spend money in this store, they just weren’t trying hard enough.
When we entered, a chime sounded and the woman working behind the counter looked up. She wore a striped blue-and-white sundress and had her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her friendly smile encouraged us to stay awhile, feel free to ask questions, and keep our wallets handy. Her slippas clipped and clopped across the store as she approached.
“We were hoping Keawe would be in.”
“Oh, so sorry, yah? He won’t be here for maybe half an hour.” Even her eyes smiled behind her black-framed glasses.
It was hard not to be captivated by the island lilt in her voice and her breezy style. “I’m McKenna. This is my friend, Chance Logan.”
“Penny Marshall.” She tilted her head from side-to-side and glanced upwards. “I know, I know. Like the actress. How can I forgive my parents for doing that to me, yah? I got called LaVerne all through school.”
“Ouch. Still better than what they called me.”
Penny didn’t even crack a smile.
I had an overwhelming urge to call her LaVerne just to break the ice. Instead, I gestured at the phone on Chance’s hip. “Show her the picture.”
“Did this woman ever come in?” He showed her the screen.
She rolled her eyes, then sneered, “That slut? What you got to do with her? This ain’t a paternity test thing, is it?”
Uh, no Laverne, it hadn't been. Not before this minute, at least. I could only hope Keawe would be so cooperative. Then again, the way his coworker was blabbing, we wouldn’t even need to see the man himself.
“We’re not here about the baby,” I said.
Penny’s eyes widened. “Oh, Jesus. It’s true. I told him she was big trouble, yah? She’s pregnant? If it’s not Keawe’s—whose is it?”
“We can’t really say,” Chance said, deadpan.
I owed the kid a high five for that one. He’d used the truth as a lie. Very impressive. “Do you know who else she might have been—um—friendly with?”
“Trinity would roll over for any guy with tight abs and a tan. Poor Keawe. She kept throwing herself at him.”
“Keawe’s not the jealous type, is he?” I asked.
Penny bit her lower lip. “He can be pretty hot-blooded, yah? Don’t tell me he did something.”
A man’s voice broke our mini-interrogation. “Something happen, fo’ sure. She dead. Who are these guys, Penny?”
Well, poop. It was Keawe. Just when we were getting somewhere, too. Even worse, he was a lot bigger in person than he appeared in Trinity's pictures. He had to stand over six feet tall and outweighed Chance by...a lot. He was ticked off to boot. “Right,” I said. “We’re investigating her murder.”
“What?” Penny squeaked. “You said she had a baby! You didn’t say nothing about her being dead, yah?”
“Actually, you’re the one who mentioned a baby,” Chance said.
Uh, not the right approach. Now they were both angry. We needed to salvage this catastrophe. Fast. I guess it was time for me to play peacemaker.
“I think what my friend meant to say was that we’re sorry we mislead you, Penny. We meant no harm, but we need to gather as much information as we can to help our client.”
“No, McKenna, that’s not what I meant.”
“Huh?” I stared at him. “Are you out of your mind?”
I have to admit, my apology was all a load of politically correct crap. I didn't buy it either, but I also didn’t want Keawe beating us into pulps of poi.
“We came here to find out if Keawe killed Trinity Kraft and I’m not leaving until I find out one way or another.”
Penny began pushing Keawe toward the door. “You go. Now. Come back after these two are gone.” How interesting, the friendliness and island lilt had been replaced by an angry undercurrent.
Keawe, however, only took about two steps backward, then stood his ground. “I ain’t going nowhere. These two gonna leave, not me.”
“No way, man." Chance stood his ground. "You’re answering questions about Trinity Kraft.”
“I ain’t answering no questions.” Keawe balled his fists. His biceps, which were about the size of tree stumps, tightened further. The veins in his forehead pulsed. He wanted a piece of Chance…bad.
He took Penny by the shoulders and physically hoisted her aside. Penny was not a small woman. She was my height and I would guess outweighed me by at least twenty pounds, but Keawe had moved her as though she were a table lamp. He was looking forward to pummeling my friend, probably taking him down in a single punch, then beating me into unconsciousness. My only hope was that I’d pass out before he caused me too much pain.
This was so unlike the dream. There, Keawe had been—what? He’d been surfing with Kai. Coming to the rescue. He'd been a hero—or had he? “Keawe, Chance is a surfer, too.”
“Good.” He smiled as he took a menacing step forward. “Then he gonna know not to cross my path again—especially on a wave.” He sneered at Chance. “Understand, brah?”
“What I know is that you’re going down and will answer my questions.” Chance's voice was calm. He nodded in my direction. “And McKenna’s.”
Keawe lunged. His fist flew in a wide arc at Chance’s head. Chance sidestepped. Reached out. Grabbed the arm. Pulled downwards.
In less than two seconds, the fight was over. Keawe lay on the ground, face down, his arm pinned high behind his back. Penny and I blinked at each other. I think we were both dumbfounded.
Calmly, Chance spoke to the larger man. “You ready to answer a few questions? Brah?”
Keawe reached backward with his free hand, but Chance pushed upward on his other arm. Each time Keawe tried to strike Chance or right himself, Chance applied more pressure. Finally, he said, “I really don’t want to break it.”
Kea
we’s fist slammed into the floor and tears rolled down his cheeks. “Okay! Stop!”
With his gaze focused on the man he’d pinned to the floor, Chance eased Keawe's arm down a fraction of an inch. “I’m going to ask a question and you’re going to answer. If you lie, I’ll be able to sense it because your body will tense up. At that point, I’ll do this." He raised Keawe's arm ever so slightly. The larger man yelped in pain. Chance continued, "Too much pressure and you won’t be in the water for a long time. Understand?”
I noticed Penny slipping away and followed her. In the background, I heard Keawe’s voice grinding out answers to Chance's questions, but I had my own quarry.
What was Penny up to? I could tell from the tone of the conversation she wasn't calling the cops. She was being secretive and whispering to someone on the other end of the line.
“Those two guys you told me about—they’re here. What should I do?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I inched forward in full snoop mode. Penny had her back to me. If I could pick up more of the conversation…
My shoulder brushed the doorjamb.
Penny barked. “I have to go.” She whirled around to face me, now all sweet smiles and helpful. “You getting everything you need?”
“Who was that?”
“Oh, just a—a supplier. I needed to find out when he wanted me to pick up another set of shirts.”
“You pick up your inventory? That’s pretty unconventional.”
“We’re a small store. It’s a small supplier. You know, things get done different here in the islands.”
I stepped forward, staring straight at her. “I don’t believe you.”
Penny’s cool exterior cracked. Sweat beaded on her brow, and she began to fidget. “No, no. It’s the truth. You’ve got Keawe, why don’t you take him away?”
So much for being a loyal friend. She was ready and willing to toss Keawe to the sharks, which meant she needed to save her own skin. “Can I borrow your phone for a second?”
Her eyes grew large, a pair of saucers staring at the device in her hand. All she had to do was say "no," but she was too freaked out. She’d been caught holding the smoking gun and couldn't think clearly. She shook her head, but it was half-hearted. She had such a guilty conscience.
North Shore Nanny Page 10