Wings in the Dark

by Michael Murphy

  Laura leaned forward. “Jake, maybe Amelia would be safer with us.”

  “Safer?” Amelia raised one eyebrow. “Why would I not be safe?”

  “Safer?” Billy echoed with a high-pitched chirp.

  Amelia nodded. “I get it. You think the killer might’ve targeted me.”

  Laura tried to assure her friend. “We have to consider the possibility.”

  Amelia shrugged. “You’re suggesting the killer followed me to the hangar and waited around until everyone else left. When Mr. Kalua arrived, he interrupted the shooter’s plans, so the shooter shot him.”

  That was just one of many possibilities.

  “Laura’s right. I’m safer with you two.” She patted Billy’s leg. “You three.”

  Billy rolled down the window and stuck his head out. “Would you pull over? Please!”

  I yanked the wheel and stopped on the shoulder of the road.

  Laura patted my hand. “Don’t make him feel bad. He’s just a kid.”

  “Son of a bitch!” I got out stood beside the back bumper.

  Behind the car, Billy was retching into a clump of grass at the side of the road. I waited until he finished.

  When he straightened up, I tossed him a handkerchief. He wiped strings of vomit from his mouth and handed the handkerchief back.

  “Keep it.”

  Billy stuffed the cloth into his pocket. “I’m sorry, Mr. Donovan. I just…that talk about danger. I’m only a student and a secretary.”

  I handed him a stick of gum. I felt bad for the kid. He didn’t want to come along any more than I wanted him to be there, but at this point, we were both working for George Putnam. “All that talk about danger was to get Amelia to go back to the hotel. I laid it on pretty thick.”

  He cocked his head, trying to figure whether I was blowing smoke. “You’re not just saying that?”

  “You think I’d let my wife come along if there was any chance we’d encounter trouble?”

  “No, I guess not.” A sheepish smile crossed his face. “I’ll be all right.”

  I gestured toward the car.

  When I climbed in, I tried again to get Amelia to go home. “I promised George I’d take you back to your hotel.”

  Amelia scoffed. “And you have to keep your promise or it will jeopardize your friendship?”

  Laura stifled a chuckle.

  At a traffic light, Amelia met my gaze in the mirror. “I understand what’s going on back there. Detective Tanaka thinks I killed Kalua and hid the gun. It’s my life, my career that’s in jeopardy.”

  In the backseat, Billy cleared his throat. “Mr. Donovan, logically, I think Miss Earhart’s right. Don’t forget she knows a lot more about the deceased than you do.”

  I turned and shot him a look. Traitor.

  It was time to set Amelia straight. I pulled to the side of the road again and kept the engine running. “Laura and I will do what we can to get you out of a jam, but if your husband hadn’t put the squeeze on my publisher to get them to pressure me, Laura and I would be back at the Mambo Club sipping champagne.”

  “But you’re not. You’re investigating the murder, and I can help.”

  I wasn’t going to back down. “Laura and I can handle ourselves if things get dicey. If something happens to you, the papers will be all over it. We would take the heat. How do you think our careers would play out?”

  Amelia seemed to be weakening. She let out a long sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “We play it safe because you’re along, and we’ll be less likely to find out what happened back there.”

  Amelia nodded. “We’re at the Moana Hotel.”

  Laura smiled. “It’s not far from where we’re staying.”

  With that settled, I turned and drove to the hotel in silence. We pulled up, and a doorman opened the door. Amelia removed her hat and set it on Billy’s head. “You look like a Giants fan.”

  She got out and nodded to a hotel security officer, then walked around to my side. “Where are you planning to start?”

  I pulled out the slip of paper with Kalua’s address. “We have to find out where he was earlier—and if we’re lucky, who saw him last. We might find the answers at Kalua’s office building. A man keeps secrets in his office.”

  Laura cocked her head. “Oh, really?”

  “I misspoke. I meant to say some men keep secrets in their office.”

  Amelia gave me directions to Kalua’s building. “It isn’t in the best part of town. But it’s where he got his start and, after business dropped off, offices closed. When things picked up again, he wanted to develop the area.”

  “Thanks.”

  Amelia was clearly reluctant to let us go. She pointed to the sky. “Up there, I’m in charge. It’s hard to…to depend on others.”

  “We’ll do our best.”

  Billy grabbed the door handle. “I guess you probably want to drop me off as well.”

  The kid was getting scared again. “I’d like nothing better, but I promised your boss.”

  He remained in the backseat and, after Laura said good-bye to Amelia, we drove off. Relief untwisted the pain in my gut. I’d talked Amelia into returning to her hotel. I didn’t like the idea of having Billy along either, but Putnam left me no choice.

  The kid leaned forward and set one hand on the front seat. “You really believe the cops suspect Miss Earhart?”

  “I do. Look, kid, Laura and I can use all the help we can get, but you’ll have to follow my lead. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  “Hurt? I thought you only said those things for Miss Earhart’s benefit.”

  I glanced at Billy in the rearview mirror, hoping Putnam hadn’t been blowing smoke when he raved about the kid’s smarts. “What’s the skinny on Hank Kalua?”

  “Skinny?”

  For a moment I forgot I didn’t attend Yale.

  Laura chuckled. “Information, Billy.”

  “Sorry. I’m not familiar with detective vernacular.”

  “Is he being a wiseass?” I turned to Laura.

  “I don’t think so, darling. Are you?”

  The kid looked perplexed. “Oh, gosh, no. Mr. Kalua comes from—”

  I corrected him. “Came from.”

  “Oh, right. He came from a wealthy island family. For generations they grew sugarcane and pineapples. After his father died, Hank inherited the estate, while his younger brother, Ihe, received squat. Hank made a lot of enemies when he expanded his plantation. Other growers thought he’d drive the price down, but he also used his inheritance to purchase a ship so he could export pineapples to America at cost. Prices went up instead of down because of increased demand. He and the other growers made plenty of money. Kalua became rich and powerful and politically active.”

  George Putnam hadn’t exaggerated about the kid one bit. He was a walking encyclopedia. “Why didn’t his brother inherit anything?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  The kid didn’t know everything.

  Following the directions Amelia had provided, we began to enter an older, more run-down part of Honolulu.

  Laura gazed out the window at the neglected buildings. “Maybe the murder has nothing to do with Amelia. A man like Kalua might have plenty of enemies.”

  Laura was right. My old man told me a businessman wasn’t doing his job if he wasn’t making enemies. “Anything else you know about Kalua, Billy?”

  The kid seemed to be searching his memory. “He was born Haku Kalua. It wasn’t until college he decided to go by Hank. I’m not sure if this is important, but as a young man, he was involved in efforts to overthrow the monarchy.”

  I had no idea Hawaii had been ruled by a monarchy so recently. That could definitely be important. “Monarchy? How do you know all this?”

  “I read a lot. On the trip over, when I wasn’t getting seasick, I read several books about the Islands, and also the Hawaiian newspapers. The last monarch was Queen Liliuokalani. Forty years ago, American and Hawaii
an businessmen engineered the coup. Supporters are still around. Ten years ago Kalua’s house was burned down by people loyal to the queen.”

  I was beginning to appreciate the kid—assuming he was right. Could people still embrace the idea of a Hawaiian monarchy? Could they have shot Kalua? Why do so in Amelia Earhart’s hangar?

  Laura was giving me the look I remembered well. “You’re doing it again, darling.”

  “What?”

  “Various scenarios are swirling through your brain, like a paddle through butter. Care to let us all inside?”

  “I’d rather you both keep an open mind, unencumbered by my speculation.”

  We turned down another street of abandoned warehouses and office buildings. It was a nice neighborhood, unless you preferred windows with glass and gutters without garbage.

  The area had seen better days, like the rest of the world, and was struggling to recover from the Depression. A third of the warehouses and office buildings were boarded up. In an alley across the street, a stray dog dug through the contents of an overturned trash can.

  These were tough streets, mean streets, the kind where thugs smashed a liquor bottle over your head just for the fun of it.

  I pulled up alongside Kalua’s office building and let the engine run. I didn’t want to park in front of the place, in case Tanaka and his men decided to pay a visit. I just wanted to get inside and out again with something that might point me in the right direction.

  I drove into the alley and shut off the engine. The car sputtered and died. This was hardly the kind of place I would’ve expected Kalua, a man who’d helped finance Amelia’s transpacific flight, to have his headquarters.

  “Come on, Billy.” I glanced into the backseat.

  “You sure? Because maybe I could stay here and keep a lookout.”

  “A lookout for what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Someone rapped on my window.

  Three thugs in their teens stood beside the car.

  I glanced at Laura. “You and Billy stay inside and lock the doors.”

  “We’re not going anywhere,” Billy said.

  I climbed out and faced the three. The one in the middle was nearly my height, a tad over six foot. He wore a leather jacket, and a sheathed knife hung on his belt. “You want us to guard your car while you go inside? Rates are reasonable.”

  “So, you’re the neighborhood valet.”

  The kid to his right, a short stocky teen with a pale complexion, sort of laughed. “Valet.”

  The leader slapped him upside the head. “Shut up, Whitey.”

  He held out both arms. “See, this is unofficially our alley, but there are a lot of undesirables who might break in and see what they could take, or just mess things up, if we didn’t stop them.”

  I glared at the kid, but he held my gaze.

  “Judging by how much your tuxedo must’ve cost, a Jackson ought to do it. Fifteen for watching the car”—he glanced toward the office building—“and five for forgetting that all the offices are closed this time of night.”

  I wasn’t going to hand over twenty bucks for them to promise not to damage the car. “A sawbuck.”

  The third teen, a slender kid in a white T-shirt, removed a black hat and long hair tumbled to his shoulders. A dame. “Take the dough, Stan.”

  Stan, the leader, held out his hand.

  I pulled a ten from my wallet, careful not to reveal how much I was carrying, and paid the man. “Take real good care of it.”

  Stan raised one hand. “Scout’s honor, Tuxedo Man.”

  Whitey and the girl laughed until they snorted.

  Chapter 7

  Tuxedo Man and the Return of Blackie Doyle

  Laura climbed from the Oldsmobile and ignored the three punks like I hoped she would.

  Whitey made eyes at Laura and let out a low whistle. “You should’ve asked for more dough, Stan.”

  The teenagers laughed when Billy stepped out of the car. None of us was appropriately outfitted for the neighborhood, but he looked ridiculous in a three-piece suit and Giants cap.

  I took Billy’s arm and led him and Laura away from the Hawaiian teens. I shot the leader a warning glare as we made our way to the front of the building.

  The girl with the long hair fluttered her fingers at Billy. “Aloha, shark bait.”

  At the entrance to the alley, Laura stepped around a stream of brown sludge that stank of something dead. Billy leaped over the muck, stumbled, and almost fell. An athlete he wasn’t. Intending to show him how it was done, I jumped and splashed some of the gunk on my trouser leg.

  Laura chuckled. “Not as agile as you once were, huh, darling?”

  “Marriage is taking a toll on me.” I took a final glance at the three teenagers, who were walking away from the car. The sawbuck was worth it to get rid of them.

  I led the way to the front door of the building. Billy had mentioned Kalua’s office took up most of the third floor. We climbed the stairs and made our way down a narrow corridor that reeked of cigarettes and better days gone by.

  The last door on the right had an etched glass sign: KALUA ENTERPRISES. I tried the door but, as I expected, it was locked.

  “I guess that’s that.” Billy took a step back down the corridor.

  Laura felt along the top of the doorframe for a key. “Sorry, darling, you’ll have to do your thing.”

  Billy clamped his eyes shut. “What thing?”

  Laura smiled proudly. “Jake has many talents.”

  I wasn’t sure I still possessed the tools I needed. I searched through my wallet. The narrow file I kept from the old days was someplace back in Los Angeles.

  “Pardon me.” I plucked a hatpin from Laura’s silver beret.

  “You’re going to break in?” Billy let out a deep breath. “This…this isn’t legal.”

  “No, it’s not.” Guided by just a dim corridor light behind me, I slipped the pin into the lock and tried to trip the tumbler. I felt like a sap when the pin snapped in two.

  “Mr. Donovan.” Billy tapped me on the shoulder. “You need something stronger. That lock’s a cast-iron rim latch.”

  “I know what kind of lock it is.” The kid’s wealth of knowledge was starting to get on my nerves.

  When I shot him a look, Billy swallowed hard and grabbed his neck. “I swallowed my gum.”

  “You’ll live.”

  He fished around in his trouser pocket and pulled out a small manicure kit. He handed me what I needed, a thin nail file.

  I noticed his manicured nails for the first time.

  “What?” Billy’s face took on a blank expression.

  I ignored the question and slipped the file into the lock. The tumbler gave a satisfying click. I opened the door and bowed toward Laura, then dropped the file in my trouser pocket in case I encountered any more locks.

  “Isn’t he wonderful?” Laura asked Billy. “He’s also an accomplished pickpocket.”

  Billy smiled for the first time since we left the hangar. “You must be very proud.”

  I poked my head inside, then entered and let the others into the small outer office of Kalua Enterprises. “Don’t turn on the lights.”

  The corridor light illuminated a wooden desk with a brass spittoon I hoped the receptionist used as a trash can. A brass coatrack stood beside the door. A shiny brass lamp sat in the center of a table littered with magazines. The man had a lot of brass.

  Billy took off his cap and wiped his damp brow. “You have any more gum?”

  I pulled the pack of Wrigley’s from my pocket and tossed it to him.

  “Thanks. Chewing gum keeps my asthma from taking over when I’m nervous.”

  “Don’t be so jumpy.” I searched through the top drawer of the reception desk.

  “If there’s nothing to be worried about, why are we prowling around in the dark?”

  Billy stuffed two sticks into his mouth and chewed, then stuffed the gum wrappers into his trouser pocket. “What are y
ou looking for?”

  “A flashlight.” I slid the drawer closed and tried the next one.

  Billy snickered. “You really think a receptionist keeps a flashlight in her desk?”

  I pulled one from the desk and aimed it at Billy’s face, then swept the beam toward an open door at the end of the lobby. We followed the light and entered a room crammed with more than a dozen desks, each with a covered typewriter and notepad, but no personal items. The place was spotless and about as warm and inviting as a museum of crystal plates.

  I shined the beam around the room, searching for Kalua’s office—a corner one, no doubt.

  As we crossed the room, Laura shook her head. “What’s so special about this place that Kalua would invite Amelia and George here?”

  I still held special memories of the office in Queens where I grew my detective agency and earned a reputation with authorities and tough guys. Maybe Kalua felt the same about the place where he built his empire.

  Billy shrugged. “He called Mr. Putnam a week ago and invited them to lunch at a swanky beachfront restaurant. I heard that later, he had a couple drinks too many, started talking about the good old days, and explained he wanted to show them where he got his start and expanded his business empire.”

  Laura nodded toward a closed door in the corner. “That must be Kalua’s office. Have you ever seen anything like that door?”

  Not in an office. The window was stained glass, something that belonged in a church. Two knights with crosses on their armor, one riding a black stallion, the other a white horse. The two men were on a quest of some kind. Kalua had been religious or he enjoyed quests.

  A secretary’s desk sat outside the door. While the desks of the typists and bookkeepers were sparse, the secretary kept a few personal items on display, including a picture of a young boy and presumably herself, a pretty Hawaiian dish with long dark hair.

  Laura slipped behind the desk and eased into the chair. “If you want to know about a person, find his wife’s secrets, or his secretary’s.”

  “Billy’s a secretary. Why don’t you stay here with Laura?”

  The kid snorted. “I’m not that kind of secretary.”

  “Then follow me.” I tried the door to Kalua’s office. Locked, of course.