CHAPTER SEVEN
I stumbled down the hall to the living room. Liam sat at the table, staring at his laptop and typing on the keyboard.
"Here's a shocker. Silas Ridgemoor of Georgia doesn't exist," he said without looking up from the screen. "But Silas Morton of Memphis, Tennessee does, and he's a fugitive from justice. Here's a picture, and I'm sure it's the same man."
"That's nice," I said as I plopped myself down on the couch.
"Darling, what's wrong?" he asked as he joined me.
"Everything. I miss my friends and my mom. I want to go home. I've been clicking my heels, and it doesn't work," I said.
"You don't have ruby slippers, and you can't leave until the case is solved. It will hang on you, and you could be called back here at the police's whim. You planned to be here for another week at least. Pump up your résumé and add catching an escaped prisoner to it," he said as he put his arm around my shoulder.
"Silas is dangerous?"
Never randomly flirt with an older man in a hotel lobby was a good rule of thumb.
"Probably, and I don't think he's here by accident. There's a reference to a drug-dealing charge in Ohio twenty years ago."
If I was an on-the-run drug kingpin searching for hidden treasure, I'd definitely start in Hawaii.
"Do you think he knew Elliott?" I asked as this circle of suspects got tighter.
"I believe he employed Dominick Carroll, aka Elliott hyphenated name."
Six degrees of separation was a joke including Kevin Bacon or how this case continued to evolve.
Dominick's demise led to his rebirth as Elliott. Did he steal money, drugs, or secrets? If so, where are they?
The bank statements the police had found in Elliott's apartment listed amounts and account numbers. Did the money signify old or new illegal dealings? Who had paid him to keep quiet or expose someone else's dirty laundry? I hoped Elliott had enjoyed the work because he'd paid for it with his life. Twice.
One question led to too many new questions, but all points led back to Elliott's shrouded past. Silas held a possible explanation and my ticket out of here.
"We need access to Silas's hotel room," I said as I stood. Liam smiled at me. "You probably figured that out an hour ago."
"Before we left the hotel parking lot, but who's counting. The police appreciate my help, but not my actual questioning or detaining suspects. Like a trained hunter dog, I point and then step back and give them a wide berth," he said as he hurried back to his computer.
I pulled up a chair and peered over his shoulder. Open tabs of websites sat in a nice row on his browser. They included an airline, the Aloha Lagoon Resort, the Blue Island, the FBI, and Dominick Carroll.
"You're not hacking into anything, are you?" I asked.
"Such a sweet child," he said after he kissed my cheek.
"I might be dumb, but I know it's against the law."
"I never break the law—just bend it to my liking and interest. Silas is in Room 321 and registered to stay through the weekend," Liam said as he closed the little computer windows.
I sat back in my chair, remembering I would be the bait. The sooner this ended, the sooner I was sleeping on Lizzie's couch. I'd have to give up my apartment, sell my car, and hit the pavement to look for a job. Or be Liam's baking apprentice.
I wondered if the Aloha Lagoon Resort hired disgraced guests.
"I'll brush out Ellen's blonde wig and find something inappropriate to wear," I said as I shrugged.
"That's the spirit. If we run into Silas, pretend he told you to meet him there," Liam said as he stood.
"What if he's angry and tries something violent?" I asked out loud instead of to myself, hoping for a better answer.
"Then he'll deal with me," he said as he hugged me.
Who would be scarier to meet in a dark alley, Silas or Liam? Silas was probably a hired brute with a weapon. Terrifying to a wimp like me, but Liam inspired true fear. Silent and stalking a victim, Silas wouldn't even know what hit him. Liam's bare hands should be registered as deadly weapons. Scone forming was serious work and required a very particular set of skills.
Wonder if he had ever considered becoming a masseuse? I'd volunteer to be his practice subject, noun, and predicate.
I trailed down the hall and dragged through my play clothes. I needed a tight outfit and a bust boost. All I could find was my cute, little pineapple dress. It would have to do. I went old school and stuffed my bra with tissues until I couldn't see my feet. My hair rebelled against the wig. My scalp had a scratchy and sweaty flashback and didn't care for a repeat. Eventually, I had shoved every strand under the cap, drew makeup on my face, and put on sensible shoes. My fight-or-flight instinct was stuck on run as fast as possible.
Liam hid a smile when I strolled into the living room.
"If I look that bad, tell me," I said as I rested my hands on my hips.
"You're adorable and pure sin in one sweet package. Don't take this the wrong way, but you could make a fortune as an escort."
There was a right way to take that remark?
"Great to know employment opportunities abound before me," I said as I headed for the door.
"Of course, I would forbid it."
Nice to know he was a sexist and a chauvinist, probably an economist too. I stopped and pivoted toward him.
"You'd what? Hey, fella, you're not my father. No one's the boss of me. If I want to shake my tail feathers for singles, I will," I said as I wagged my finger in his face.
I hoped it wouldn't come to that, but money was money, and my coffers were sand dry.
"My apologies. I didn't mean to offend you. Since you're playing a part, I meant to compliment you on your appearance. Also, an escort doesn't mean sex with a client. Many times it's being seen with him. Having you on a man's arm bodes well for him with his peers. For me, the wig detracts from your natural beauty. Your flawless skin, generous lips, and all the glorious points extending from your nose to your toes is female perfection. My personal favorite is your red hair because it hints at the fire within," he said as he took my hand.
I forgave him as he kissed my fingers one at a time. How much did he charge an hour? Did he have a layaway plan? I meant that in every way possible.
Where were we going again?
"Remember, you're the lookout if Silas's room is empty and the lure if he's there. I need ten minutes to give the place a thorough going over," Liam said as he opened the door.
Exactly what I had hoped he would say. Our killer suspect had information to incriminate himself or a baseball bat aimed at my head.
Was this a good idea? No, but it was the only way to find out the truth. Being able to handle it was my problem.
We hiked out to Liam's car, and he went over his plan as he drove to the Blue Island Motel. He parked around the back, and a door opened. We were waved in by a member of the staff.
"He's not there," the man said as he palmed a key card to Liam.
"Thanks, Jimmy," Liam said and handed him a few folded bills before he left us.
We walked down a darkened hallway, past the bar and lobby, to the elevators.
"Do you know everybody around here?" I asked.
"No, everyone knows me," he said as he pressed the up button.
Ego much?
I guessed in Liam's case it was a given. We rode up to the third floor, and I pretended my knees weren't knocking. My mind raced through every horrible scenario from every slasher movie ever made. Quick recap—first the girl died. Being the only woman at this party, all fingers pointed to me as the next corpse.
I wasn't questioning Liam's ability to find evidence and be out the door in ten minutes, but I doubted my non-fainting or screaming reaction. I never claimed to be a superhero or even a regular run-of-the-mill hero. I was the innocent-but-framed fool sent to the electric chair. One jolt and my hair would frizz into knotted steel wool. With that cheery thought, we arrived at Silas's room.
"If you see Silas, remind hi
m that he asked you to meet him here for a drink," Liam said as he slid the card through the lock.
The light flashed green, and he disappeared inside. I paced the hall and hoped no one would join me. Ten minutes in normal time would pass without notice or incident. Waiting for disaster to strike, each second ticked away in my head. I heard the elevator doors slide open and waited. A young couple carrying sleepy children stepped out and headed in the opposite direction.
I had forgotten to wear a watch, but an hour must have passed. I was ready to pound on the door and demand we leave. The elevator doors shook open again. Another platinum-blonde wigged woman stepped out with an older bald and overweight man.
Silas had scored another babe? I'd be insulted—if it was him. Luckily, they veered away from me too.
I exhaled my held in breath.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Silas asked from behind me.
He'd used the stairs? Who worried about getting ten thousand steps on vacation?
If it was possible to physically jump out of my skin, my skeleton would be on its way to the moon. I regained a slim bit of my purpose for being there, plastered a smile on my face, and turned to greet him.
"I've been waiting. I thought you forgot about me," I said in a pouty tone.
"What are you talking about?" he asked with a sneer.
A pretty girl stood outside his hotel room, and Silas was pissed. Plan B hadn't been mapped out, but I'd wing it. I took a step closer to him.
"You asked me to meet you here for a drink. Remember this afternoon, before we were interrupted?" I asked as I reached out to touch him.
"Who sent you?" he asked as he snatched my hand and dragged me to his door.
"You did," I said as I tried to remain calm.
"I'll place a call to security after…"
He didn't get to finish as all the wrath of the natural world stood in the doorway of his room.
"Unhand her immediately," Liam said as his eyes filled with fury.
"Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my room?" Silas asked as he pushed me away.
I tripped and fell into the wall. Instantly, Liam had Silas on his knees, arm bent behind his back.
"Somebody call security," Silas said.
"Don't fret, Mr. Morton. The police are on their way," Liam said in a low, menacing tone.
Silas paled as the muffled sound of sirens got closer, and the elevator doors opened. Detective Ray Kahoalani strolled toward us.
"Good evening, Simone. Liam, I see you've been busy. Who's your friend?" Detective Ray asked as he put his hand out and helped me up.
"You're the police? Got any ID?" Silas asked with a grunt.
"Do you have ESP? I was about to ask you the same question," Detective Ray said as he flashed his badge.
A small crowd had gathered as people opened their doors. Ray motioned to another officer to clear the gawkers. If I had heard a commotion in the hall, I'd have made sure the dead bolt was in place. I'd never get involved, but maybe common sense rules didn't apply on vacation.
Detective Ray nodded as Liam pulled Silas to his feet and led him to his room. Two other officers joined us. Liam deposited Silas in a chair and put his hand out to me.
"You were so brave," he whispered to me as he enveloped me in his arms.
I shook as my nerves unbundled, and I melted into him.
"This is an illegal search. You don't have a warrant," Silas said.
Obviously he had a lot of practice dealing with law enforcement.
"Liam, if you please," Detective Ray said as he held out his hand.
Liam settled me into a chair, pulled a paper out of his pocket, unfolded it, and presented it to Detective Ray.
"He's a cop? He didn't identify himself as the police," Silas objected.
"Freelance only, due to budget concerns," Liam said.
Who was Liam Bentley? Full-time baker, part-time policeman, retired spy, spare heir to an English estate? No butcher or candlestick maker?
"A search warrant with the name Silas Morton listed on the top. It includes electronic devices and your car too. A few of my men are tending to the vehicle as we speak. The rental company sent over a spare set of keys," Detective Ray said as the other officers conferred with Liam. "I'll take your cell phone and password now."
Liam pointed them to a small pile of items on the dresser and then stood sentry next to me. Silas reached in his pocket and set a phone on the bed.
"All of them," Liam said, pointing to a bulge at Silas's lower calf concealed by his pant leg. "If it's a weapon, I suggest you move very slowly. I get nervous around guns and tend to break people's bones purely by accident."
Silas leaned down and removed another cell phone.
"You have the wrong man. My name is Silas Ridgemoor, and I'm from Atlanta," Silas said as he picked an imaginary piece of lint off his shirt.
"You may live there at the moment, but you have a string of known aliases. I'll add Ridgemoor to the list," Detective Ray said.
"I'd love to stay and chat, but unless you're charging me with something, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Silas said as he folded his arms across his chest.
"Fair point," Detective Ray said as he picked up a picture from the assembled stack and held it up. "Can you identify this young woman?"
It was the same head shot of Martha that had been slid under Ellen's door. I gasped and got everyone's attention. Silas stared at me until his eyes became slits.
"You're the redhead," he said.
"Mr. Morton, I asked you a question. Do you know this lady?" Detective Ray asked as he dangled the picture closer to Silas.
Silas exhaled and slumped down in his chair.
"I think it's time we drove down to the station for questioning. I've taken the liberty of contacting the county, and a public defender will meet you there," Detective Ray said as he handcuffed Silas.
"What's the charge?" Silas asked as he stood.
"First-degree murder of one Elliott Smythe-Wilkes, aka Dominick Carroll," Detective Ray said as he tucked his hand in Silas's elbow.
"You have no evidence and no case," Silas said.
"But we have you, an escaped convict living as a fugitive from justice for eleven years. It's a good start," Detective Ray said with a smile.
There was a knock at the door, and one of the officers answered it. Two more policemen came in followed by a hotel security guard.
"We bagged some disguises we found in the trunk. And he's looking for an escort," one of the officers said as he motioned toward the guard.
All the men in the room looked at me.
"Men can be prostitutes too. It's an equal opportunity profession," I said after I had peeled off the head vise, I mean, blonde wig. "I believe the room you seek is two doors down."
Liam swallowed a smirk as the men filed out into the hall.
"If you needed money, you could have asked," Detective Ray whispered as he passed me.
If he was serious, I needed a complete makeover. If he was kidding, I'd slap him into next week. Everyone left the room and took the elevators.
Outside, we got into our cars and headed in different directions.
"Will Silas admit he killed Elliott?" I asked as I buckled myself in.
"I'm not sure he did. But the question is did he witness the actual murder? Somebody fished Elliott out of the pool and dropped him on the beach. Silas seems strong enough, but lifting dead weight is a two- or three-person job," Liam said as he stopped at a red light.
"Deborah would disagree with you. She can lift two hundred and fifty pounds over her head. Weight training has become an obsession with her."
"I'm sure she's a wonder to behold."
"And then some. So do you think Silas hired others and then killed them too?"
I didn't like my line of questioning because it multiplied the murders. What had the homicide rate been here before I'd had arrived? I hoped no one would look up that statistic.
"No. Something is off
here. Silas wouldn't murder someone without a good reason. He's a fugitive and would never willingly step into something that would put him on the authorities' radar and send him back to prison. My guess is Silas was here to meet someone and stepped into the pool area at the wrong time," Liam said as he merged the car into the left lane.
"Why did he take Martha's picture and send it to me?" I asked, telling my bladder it had to wait to explode.
"You've been in the news. Maybe he was trying to scare you into giving him money or thought you and Martha killed Elliott."
"But if he had my phone, that means he was there when Elliot died and knows I wasn't. Is he trying to frame me?"
"I'm not sure," Liam said as he made a U-turn and headed back into town. "I want to hear from Silas, and I know a good spot to listen in on the interrogation."
"Is this against the law?" I asked as I gripped the bottom of the seat.
"Several."
"Can we stop somewhere first? I need to use the ladies' room," I said.
Or a vodka-spiked punch bowl and a spill-proof ladle.
"Of course. I apologize," he said as he pulled into a fast food parking lot.
I shot out of the car and headed in before him. Thankfully, there was no line, so I hurried through and washed my hands. I stepped out into the restaurant.
I caught a glimpse of Liam standing in the back, perusing the menu board. Every woman there had joined in. Believe it or not, that gorgeous hunk of male waited for me. I took my time getting over to him. The smile grew on his face as I got closer. He held out his hand to me, and I heard a woman sigh. It may have been me.
"Did you want something to drink?" he asked.
"Yes, an iced tea please."
We moved up to the counter, and Liam ordered a coffee and my tea. We took our cups and headed to the exit.
"I owe you a candlelight dinner. There's a family-owned restaurant on Maui. It takes fine dining to a whole new level," he said as he opened the door.
"Is it the dinner theater where Garrett performs?"
"He gets paid to act on a stage?" he asked with true surprise.
Deadly Bubbles in the Wine (Aloha Lagoon Mysteries Book 4) Page 12