Hunting Houston

by Sandy Steen

  He did as she asked, but only because he didn’t know what else to do without an explanation.

  Abby knitted her fingers together and brought them to her lips for a moment, then lowered them and took a deep breath.

  “To begin with, I didn’t come to Maui on vacation. My employer sent me. I work for an investigations agency that specializes in insurance fraud.”

  She waited for him to absorb what she had just told him. And from the look in his eyes, he hadn’t gotten it. “I came to Maui to investigate the accident that killed Shelley Leland, and almost killed you.”

  “I don’t understand. The insurance company already investigated. It was declared an accident, and the claim was paid.”

  “Yes. It was declared an accident. Until a man confessed that he had been hired to blow up your boat.”

  “Hired?”

  She nodded. “The kind of person we call a ‘torch.’ “

  He was entirely too calm. Why didn’t he shout, rage, do something? “This torch confessed so he would get a lesser charge on another crime. It happens all the time. The, uh, insurance company felt there might be a basis for a case of fraud, and my company was hired to investigate.”

  When he started to speak, she stopped him. “It would be better if I finished before you start asking questions.” She took another deep breath and continued.

  “We…I found the piece of fiberglass you described in your interview with Mr. Daly.” When his eyes widened, she pointed to the stack of papers. “Everything from the original investigation is here. Your examination under oath. Leland’s. And a lot more. What we didn’t know was whether or not the explosion was accidental. Today—” she picked up the top piece of paper “—I received a report from the forensic lab that tested the fiberglass. That explosion was detonated by a timer. It was deliberately set, Houston.” It was the most difficult thing she had ever done, but Abby struggled to keep her voice steady, and as emotionless as possible.

  “In cases like these, the most important factor is motive. Usually, it’s money. I believe that’s the case here. And I believe I know what that motive is, or was.” Oh, God, she had to do this. She had to. There was no turning back now.

  “I believe the person with the strongest motive was Gil. I think his gambling debts got out of control, and he had to find a way to cover them. I think he took money out of the company—your company—to do it. And if you check the books, I think you’ll see for yourself-”

  Houston shot up from the sofa, his hands fisted. “Have you lost your mind?”

  There was so much pain in his eyes—so much she could barely look at him. “No.”

  In desperation, he grabbed her by the shoulders. “Abby, tell me I’m having a bad dream. Tell me this is some kind of hideous mistake, but—”

  “There’s no mistake. That boat was blown up, and in the process Shelley Leland died, and you almost did. There’s no mistake.”

  He blinked, stared at her, then she saw his jaw clench. Abruptly, he pushed her away from him. If she hadn’t been standing only a few inches from the table, she would have fallen.

  “You lied to me.”

  The bitterness in his voice ripped her soul. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I—I couldn’t tell you who I was because at first we didn’t know which one of you—”

  “You thought I was responsible?”

  “Houston, you don’t understand. In an investigation, everyone is suspect.”

  “Now you think Gil did it?”

  “Yes, I do.” He turned away, almost as if he couldn’t bear to look at her.

  “You have to look at all of the evidence, Houston. By your own admission, he has a problem with gambling. It’s an addiction, and addictions have to be fed. Where do you think he gets the money that he bets on horses and cards? You told me yourself he goes to Las Vegas several times a year. The money has to come from somewhere. Again, from your own mouth, he has always done the company’s books. He has a knack with numbers. You said so, yourself. Have you ever asked to look at the books? Have you? Or have you always trusted Gil without any questions? You can check it out for yourself, Houston. He may be clever, but even a clever embezzler makes mistakes. Leaves notes in certain columns, marks unusual places—”

  He whirled around to face her. “I have always trusted Gil. And I still do. You’re lying. I don’t know why you’re lying, but you are. You’re trying to make me believe a lie, turn against him. I did that once before, but not this time.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Years ago, a woman tried to convince me that Gil was untrustworthy. I believed her, and it was a lie. It almost ended our friendship. I promised myself it would never happen again.”

  Abby stared at him, stunned. How could he deny the evidence? “So you choose not to believe me because of some misguided sense of loyalty?”

  “Loyalty? You don’t even know the meaning of the word. I thought I had found a woman I could trust. I thought I had found a woman I could love for the rest of my life.” His eyes glinted with disgust. “I found nothing.”

  “I know I’ve hurt you.”

  “No. You didn’t hurt me. You cut me up into little pieces and left me to bleed to death.”

  His words were like a whiplash to her heart. “I wish it could have been different. I wish we could have met under different circumstances.”

  “Why? Instead of getting paid to lie, you would have done it for free?”

  She wanted to touch him, to make him see that she had very little choice in this. “Houston—”

  “And was sleeping with me part of your job, Abby?”

  She drew back as if he had struck her. In effect, he had. She had suffered a blow to her heart that would be a long time, if ever, healing. “No. I made love to you because I…” She knew he wouldn’t believe her, but she had to say it. “I love you.”

  “You what? Love? You don’t know what love is. And trust?” He laughed, but the sound was cold, humorless. “You aren’t even familiar with the concept.”

  “You’re right about one thing. I didn’t know what love—real love—was until I met you.”

  “You still don’t.”

  “Can we please just sit down, and talk about this? Maybe then—”

  “Maybe then I’ll believe you? Believe that my best friend, the man who sobbed at my bedside while I recuperated in the hospital, tried to kill me? That he did kill his own wife?”

  The incredulity in his voice was devastatingly real. So real that Abby realized that for the moment, at least, he couldn’t believe her.

  “For what it’s worth, I don’t think Gil set out to kill anyone. Certainly not his wife.”

  “Just me.”

  “I think he only wanted to get rid of the boat for the insurance money. And I think he intended for the explosion to take place after the boat had docked and you were safely off. There was no way he could have known Shelley would decide to come along at the last minute. Or that you would stop to help that other boat in trouble.”

  “So, he’s just an accidental killer?”

  “If that makes you feel better, yes.”

  “You are insane. Go away, Abby.”

  “They’ll only send someone to take my place. There will be a full-scale investigation, and the company’s records will be subpoenaed. This isn’t over, Houston. It won’t be over until they have the person responsible in custody.”

  “Fine. At least someone else won’t be biased against Gil. We got a clean bill of health from the insurance company. You even paid the claim, for God’s sake. Now you’re here on the word of some hopped-up thief? Did this jerk say that Gil was the man who hired him?”

  “Not exactly. I’m hoping he will be able to ID Leland’s voice.”

  “You don’t even have a positive identification to connect Gil to this…this torch, but you expect me to accept your word?”

  “It’s more than that. If you would look for yourself-”

 
“I see all I need to. I see that you’ve worked real hard to destroy a man’s reputation. And you won’t quit until you do.”

  “It’s putting pieces of a puzzle together, and these pieces fit. It’s my job, Houston, and I’m good at what I do. This time, I wish I wasn’t—”

  “Oh, you’re good, all right. Good at lying. Good at manipulating, suckering me in. And I was worried about telling you I was a coward. Worried that I wasn’t good enough for you. That’s rich, isn’t it? I can’t believe I poured my guts out to you so you could use it against my best friend.”

  “He’s not the man you think he is.”

  “Just like you aren’t the woman I thought you were. I want you out of here,” he said, his voice cold as ice. “Off this island and out of my life. Now.”

  Then he turned and walked out the door.

  Abby stared at the door he hadn’t even bothered to close. Empty. She had never felt so empty in her life.

  Houston didn’t realize how fast he was driving until he looked down at the speedometer and saw that he was doing eighty along Highway 30. He eased back on the accelerator. Wrapping himself around a light standard wouldn’t prove anything except that he had no business behind the wheel of a car in his condition. His hands were shaking, and his body was covered in sweat. He pulled off on a side road leading to Royal Kaanapali Golf Courses and killed the T-Bird’s engine.

  The world had gone stark raving mad in the past hour. His world, at any rate.

  Abby. The woman he loved. No, not anymore. The woman he had trusted. No. She couldn’t be trusted. She had lied.

  She wanted him to believe that Gil had hired someone to blow up his own boat. Impossible. Gil couldn’t do something like that. He wasn’t capable. They had been friends almost their entire lives. There was no way he would ever believe his friend and partner had that kind of larceny in his heart.

  Abby had to be wrong.

  And there was only one way to prove it.

  “Where’s Gil?” Houston asked when he walked into the shop.

  “Lonnie had some trouble with the boat trailer, and Gil went down to Kihei boat ramp to see if he could help, or at least haul the tourists back here.”

  “How long has he been gone?”

  “Hour. Maybe hour and a half.”

  “Tell him I’m upstairs when he comes in.”

  Stuart eyed him curiously, but didn’t ask questions. “Sure thing.”

  In the office, Houston went to the desk, opened it, and found the key to the file cabinet where the receivables and payables ledgers were kept. He unlocked the cabinet, removed the ledgers, took them to the desk and opened them. Scanning a page or two, he found nothing out of the ordinary. Granted, he wasn’t totally certain what all of the little marks and symbols meant. Gil had his own system, and it had worked well for him all these years.

  “Abby has to be wrong.”

  “Wrong about what?”

  Houston looked up to find Gil standing in the doorway. “Come on in and take a seat. You’re not going to believe what I have to tell you.”

  He proceeded to tell Gil about the torch’s accusations, the piece of fiberglass that had been found and tested, and, of course, Abby’s allegations that the motive behind the crime was Gil’s gambling debts.

  “Is she out of her mind?” Gil asked when Houston finished.

  “Apparently.”

  “And you decided to go over the books to prove her wrong?”

  “Something like that.”

  “So—” he pointed to the ledger “—go ahead. That way you won’t have any doubts.”

  “I don’t have any doubts.”

  “Don’t you? You sure she hasn’t made you even the least bit suspicious? Go ahead, take a good look. I don’t want any doubts.”

  Houston looked at the man he had known almost all his life, then looked at the open ledger in front of him. “No.” He slammed the book shut. “I don’t have to. I trust you.”

  “Thanks, man. For a couple of seconds I thought you might have believed her. Just a little, anyway.”

  “Now you’re the one who’s out of your mind. I came straight to these books because I knew that was the one sure way to prove all of Abby’s so-called evidence was worthless.”

  “Well,” Gil said, exhaling a deep breath. “Of course, you’re right. You know what this reminds me of, don’t you?”

  “Connie.”

  “You got it.”

  “I thought about that earlier.”

  “What was her last name, anyway?”

  Houston grinned. “Beats me. All I remember is what a mess she made of our friendship.”

  “Six years.” Gil rose from his chair and walked to the window. “You were pretty crazy about her,” he said over his shoulder.

  “And now I can’t remember her last name.”

  It wouldn’t be the same with Abby. Six years, sixty years from now, he would have no difficulty remembering her name, the way she smiled, laughed. The thought of her betrayal was like a laceration to his soul. He knew it would be a long time, if ever, before the pain of loving her and losing her stopped.

  Gil heard the pain in his friend’s voice. He walked over to the desk, perched himself on the corner. “Hey, slick. I’m sorry. I thought she might be the one for you.”

  “Yeah. So did I.”

  “Well, at least you know what she is now. And we’ve seen the last of her.”

  “Unfortunately, Abby was right about one thing. The information she’s gathered is enough to warrant another investigation. That means they probably will subpoena our records. It’s a waste of time, and money.” He picked up one of the ledgers. “Because one look at these, and they’ll know how far off base they are.”

  “Yeah,” Gil said. “One look at those, and they’ll know.”

  Abby knew there was no rush for her to leave Maui today. She had apprised Brax of the situation. He had been upset at first, telling her she should have waited to confront Houston, but finally, he relented. She could have spent another night and caught a flight out tomorrow morning, but she had decided not to wait. Why wait? There was nothing here for her. Why not get back to the world she had left? The one that didn’t include Houston.

  She would have to file an extensive report once she returned to the main office, but otherwise she had done all she could on Maui. Professionally, everything was in order.

  Personally, everything was a mess.

  Packed and ready to leave, she took one last look around the condo. She was glad she and Houston had never made love here. It was hard enough to leave as it was. At least that was one more memory she wouldn’t have to deal with. One more piece of her heart she didn’t have to leave behind. What heart? she thought. Hers was in tatters. Every beat felt as if it was pumping out her life force, draining her of hope.

  “Aloha,” she whispered to the empty rooms. Then she picked up her bags, walked out and closed the door behind her, wishing with all her tattered heart that she could as easily close the door on her pain.

  As she drove south on Highway 30, headed for the road that would take her across the island to Kahului and the airport, she promised herself that she wouldn’t look as she passed the turn-off to Houston’s neighborhood. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry.

  She failed on both counts.

  In a few short hours she would be on her way back to Los Angeles. Tomorrow would be business as usual.

  Who was she kidding? Certainly not herself. Tomorrow wouldn’t be business as usual, because she was done with business. The investigation business, anyway. She didn’t know if the decision had come as she packed, or possibly after she’d talked to Brax. Maybe even as soon as while she watched Houston drive out of her life. Whenever it had happened, Abby knew the decision to leave was the right thing for her. If she had been concerned about having lost her edge before she started this case, there was no question now.

  She was done. Through. Finished. All that remained was to turn in her resignation. Brax wo
uld go through the roof, but he’d get over it. Too bad she couldn’t say the same for herself, Abby thought, as she pulled into the rental-car agency at the Kahului airport.

  She had done her job. She had her ticket—and what was left of her heart. She was going home.

  Houston decided to go home.

  But when he got there, he realized it was a bad idea.

  Everything reminded him of Abby. When he sat on the sofa, he remembered the night she had helped him deal with his guilt over Shelley’s death. When he walked into the kitchen, he remembered seeing her kissed by the morning sun after an incredible night of lovemaking. And his bed. Lord, how was he ever going to sleep in that bed again without being tortured by memories of the two of them together? It was his house, but she lived there. She was in every room, every corner.

  No, coming home was definitely a bad idea. But where did he go? Where could he go that he could outrun the memories of her? It didn’t make any difference if he was in his home, at the shop, or on another planet. She was still with him. He hated what she had done, but, God help him, he still loved her.

  Deciding he might as well try to be productive in his melancholy, he drove back to the dive shop. Maybe he and Gil could go to dinner and have a few drinks. Anything was better than being alone.

  Stuart was behind the counter signing up customers for a dive the following day when Houston walked in the back door.

  “Is Gil around?”

  “Not sure. He went out for a while, then came back. I haven’t seen him in about thirty minutes. If he’s here, he’s upstairs.”

  “You need any help?” Houston asked, since Stuart was the only employee in sight.

  “Naw. Got it covered.”

  “Sing out if you need me.”

  In the office Houston sat down at the company’s recently purchased computer and began to enter information for a data base he was creating. The computer system had been his idea, and since he was the most knowledgeable about both hardware and software, the entire project had become his baby. Entering the data was boring, but it had to be done. As distractions went, it wasn’t much, but at least it would keep his mind off Abby.