Laura unlocked the car and slid behind the wheel. I wanted to drive but didn’t have time to argue. Besides, Laura was at least my equal when it came to driving. When Billy climbed into the backseat, Laura pumped the gas and the car started. She squealed the tires as we sped past a patrol car and Tanaka’s black sedan.
As Laura turned the corner, I glimpsed two patrol officers and Tanaka running into the street. I doubted whether they’d seen enough to ID us.
Minutes later, I began to relax. I glanced at the gun in Laura’s lap. “Where did you get that?”
She slipped the gun inside her purse. “Gino gave it to me before we left New York. It’s a vest pocket .25 and fits nicely into a purse. A girl has to have some secrets.”
There were secrets, and there were secrets. I didn’t like this one. “I could question you taking a gun on our honeymoon, but let’s imagine for a second I’m okay with that. Why would you bring a gun on a quiet night of dinner and dancing?”
“I carry a gun with me often, darling, and have since you left for Florida, but this was the first time I’ve had to use one.” Laura patted the side of my face. “We might be newlyweds, but we’ve been together long enough for me to know romantic dinners with you have a habit of turning into situations where a gun comes in handy.”
I thought back to the last ten years since Mickey and I opened the detective agency in Queens. She was right. “I still wish you’d let me know when you have a gun in your purse.”
“If you’d known, you might’ve handled the situation differently with those kids.”
“They weren’t kids. They were punks. Besides, I could’ve handled them.” I glanced at the bloodied knuckles on my left hand. Maybe I could have.
Laura shot me a skeptical smirk. “If I’d known that, Billy and I would’ve waited in the car.”
Billy leaned forward from the backseat. “Mr. Donovan, with all due respect, you should get over it. I, for one, am glad your wife had a gun in her purse.”
I studied him a moment. He’d puked his guts thinking danger might be around the corner, but when the going got tough, Billy came through. “You took care of that pretty Wahini back there. Where did you learn that move?”
“I took a class in judo at Yale, but I’d never used what I learned until now.”
“Not that move. I meant taking back your gum?”
Billy blushed. He rolled down the back window and spit out his gum. “Becky Lynne Oliver, back in high school.”
I guess we all had our Becky Lynne Olivers back in school, girls who taught us what we couldn’t learn in books. I was fortunate I’d married mine.
Laura smiled at Billy in the rearview mirror. “Was the Hawaiian girl as good a kisser as Becky Lynne?”
“I didn’t even realize what I’d done till I’d done it.” Billy laughed. He clapped me on the shoulder like we were partners. “You handled yourself pretty well too, Mr. Donovan.”
“I told you he has many talents.” Laura smiled proudly. “Where are we going now, darling?”
Before I could answer, Billy, the man with the newfound courage, set his hands on the back of the front seat. “To see Fanny Chandler, aren’t we, Mr. Donovan.”
Chapter 9
I Should Read More Nonfiction
As we raced away from the seedier part of Honolulu, I kept my eyes peeled for a tail. Laura was as good a driver as I was, but when things got tense, she sometimes lead-footed the gas pedal.
Satisfied the cops hadn’t followed, I thought about all we’d learned in Kalua’s office. We discovered two, maybe three possible suspects—Fanny Chandler, Ihe Kalua, or someone else connected to the Royalist movement.
I wouldn’t have learned much without Laura and Billy. Laura uncovered the most important find, Kalua’s appointment book, which contained key evidence about Fanny and Hank Kalua. What Billy lacked in worldly experience, he made up for in his wealth of information on Hawaii, locks, and Oldsmobile ignitions. Even more surprising, he handled himself well when trouble showed up in the form of three teenage thugs.
The most compelling evidence was against Fanny Chandler, between her illicit love affair and her being a jealous rival of Amelia’s.
My instinct, however, was to find out what I could about the Royalists. For all I knew, they were a collection of old men longing for the good old days with few foreigners and a benevolent monarchy. The waterfront location of their hangout, the Kana Bar, told me to be cautious. A group of anti-American fanatics would have a motive to stop Amelia Earhart’s flight across the Pacific. The failure of her attempt might set aviation back years.
Both possibilities had to be checked out. I wanted to investigate the Kana Bar, but I wouldn’t bring Laura or Billy to what might be a dangerous hangout with nefarious thugs. Better to start with a visit to Fanny Chandler.
I resented being forced to work on a murder investigation, but as we sped through downtown Honolulu, I realized I’d begun to enjoy getting back into the business and the challenges of investigating a high-profile crime. I’d had little time to hone long-neglected skills, including those necessary to stand up to the thugs in the alley, even if they were teenagers.
The blast of a car horn jolted me from my concentration. As we sailed through an intersection, my eyes focused on the speedometer. “I’d be happy if you’d pull over and let me drive.”
Laura’s expression of indignation reminded me of our single days. Since our honeymoon had begun, with the exception of her anger over my behavior with the reporter Hunter Conway, she’d been patient and forgiving of my occasional slipups. “Is there something wrong with the way I’m driving?”
“You’re a wonderful and skilled driver, but…”
Red lights flashed through the rear window. Laura let out a sigh and slowed. “Why didn’t you tell me I was going too fast?”
Like that’d ever slowed her before. “Just fess up and we’ll pay the fine.”
Laura pulled to the curb and shut off the engine. With a quick glance my way, she undid the first button on her dress. She rearranged herself and showed a bit more cleavage. “How do they look?”
“Like two bald babies with flawlessly smooth scalps.” I didn’t approve of my wife using her physical charms. “Laura…”
“I recognize that look of disapproval, but I’ve never gotten a ticket, and I’m not about to start now.” She rolled down the window and waited. “You might want to worry about yourself. You look like you’ve been in a barroom brawl.”
I crossed my arms and covered the torn pocket of my jacket.
The officer stood beside Laura’s door. He looked like he hadn’t slept since the Hoover administration.
Just pay the fine.
He spoke in a monotone like he’d done this a thousand times before. “Driver’s license, please.”
“Why, of course, Officer.” Laura used the southern accent she’d perfected in Midnight Wedding. She kept the pistol covered as she slipped her hand into her purse. She passed her license to the cop and batted her long, dark eyelashes. “Is anything wrong?”
He gazed my way. “What’s with him?”
Laura chuckled. “He always looks that grumpy.”
I uncrossed my arms, keeping one over my torn pocket. Turning the hand with the scrapes away from the cop, I managed a smile. “Good evening, Officer.”
The cop checked Laura’s license. He obviously didn’t recognize her, much to my wife’s dismay. “Do you realize how fast you were going?”
“I must have lost track…” She thumbed toward the backseat. “You see, my nephew is ill, and I was hurrying to get him to the hospital.”
The cop glanced in the back at Billy. “He doesn’t look sick.”
Caught off guard, Billy stammered, “I’m…I’m…it’s been a harrowing evening. I guess the excitement was too much for me.” He fell into the act, covered his mouth, and dry heaved onto the floorboard.
The officer backed up like he might get caught in the spray then handed back Laura’s li
cense. “Just keep at a reasonable speed, all right, ma’am?”
“Of course, Officer.”
When the cop hurried back to his patrol car, Laura muttered, “ ‘Ma’am.’ That’s a first. It’s always been ‘miss.’ ” She slipped her license back into her purse. “He didn’t recognize me. Maybe he doesn’t go to the movies.”
“Cops prefer action movies to screwball comedies.”
Laura glanced at her cleavage. “Jake, am I still attractive?”
I’d been married for less than ten days, but I recognized one of those dangerous trap questions women sprang on men from time to time. “Of course, darling. You’re as sweet and innocent as that first day I saw you when you walked by my house.”
“You could’ve stopped with ‘of course.’ ” She re-buttoned her dress and glanced to the backseat. “Billy, do I look old to you?”
“Not really.”
Laura gasped. “What does that mean?”
I shot the kid a warning look.
He apparently recognized his faux pas. “Not as old as Miss Earhart, but she’s out in the sun and wind almost every day.”
“Stop, Billy”—I held up one hand—“or you’ll live to regret it.”
Confusion washed over his face. “How old are you, Miss Wilson? Thirty, thirty-five?”
Laura shot me a warning glare. “Thirty-one.”
She was thirty-three and had a birthday coming up, but I wasn’t about to correct her.
Billy nodded his approval. “You look good for thirty-one.”
Laura pursed her lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I thought it was a compliment.” Billy didn’t seem to receive my message to stop. “What do I know, Miss Wilson? I’m just a kid and most of the women I’m around are college girls. You’re attractive for someone your…” He was just making things worse.
Laura’s eyes narrowed. At least she was angrier at him than me.
As the officer drove past us, Laura pumped the accelerator like she was crushing grapes. When she turned the key, the car wouldn’t start. She banged on the steering wheel.
Billy cleared his throat. “She’s flooded. You’ll have to wait a few minutes and try again.”
I glanced out the passenger window at a park with some kind of an A-frame temple. There was something familiar about the structure. “Billy, do you know what that is?”
“Sure. It’s the Izumo Taishakyo Mission, the most famous Shinto shrine on the Islands. Too bad it’s closed. That’s one of the places I wanted to see before I left.”
“Thanks to Laura’s getting us pulled over, you can scratch that item off your list.” I studied the Shinto shrine. “I should know this, but what’s Shinto?”
Billy shook his head like I was a complete imbecile. “I realize you’re a hotshot writer and all, but you should read nonfiction from time to time. Shinto is the primary religion of Japan.”
I ignored the rebuke. “Are there a lot of Japanese in Hawaii?”
“Of course there are. Japan’s had an influence on the Islands far longer than America has. Why do you ask, Mr. Donovan?”
I wasn’t sure. “Sweetheart.”
Laura was drumming her fingers on the dash. She looked angry at both of us.
“May I drive, please?”
“Fine.” She stepped out of the car and didn’t speak as we passed at the rear of the Olds. She climbed into the passenger seat and folded her arms like I had.
I slipped behind the wheel and eased away from the curb, driving slowly through the bright lights of downtown Honolulu. “This is how one is supposed to drive when not being pursued.”
Laura looked like she might pistol-whip me at any moment; then her smile broke out and she burst out laughing. She snuggled closer and rested her head against my shoulder. “What am I going to do with you?”
I gave her a wink. “If Billy wasn’t along, I’d have a suggestion or two.”
Chapter 10
A Nice Fanny
A sign across from Fanny Chandler’s apartment read FIVE MILES TO WHEELER FIELD. I checked my watch: almost midnight. The simple one-story structure had a dozen apartments. The only light on was the one in Fanny’s, Apartment 7.
I parked down the road behind a flatbed trailer stacked with crates of sugarcane. I didn’t want the cops to see our car in front of Fanny’s apartment, in case they had glimpsed the Oldsmobile when we sped away.
As we climbed from the car, Laura took one look at me and ripped the torn pocket from the jacket.
“Sweetheart, not in front of Billy.”
With a smirk, she straightened my tie, trying to make me look more presentable. “That’ll have to do.”
“Fanny’s a mechanic.”
“Don’t be such a snob. You need to be presentable wherever you go.”
I held out my hand. “Maybe you should give me the vest gun.”
“I don’t know…”
It didn’t carry much of a pop, but Laura’s gun would fit my purpose. “I may want Fanny to see I’m armed.”
When she handed the pistol to me, I stuffed the piece in the back of my trousers and led Laura and Billy to the apartment, where a jazzy Bing Crosby tune was playing.
We reached the front door, where Billy licked his palm. He slicked down his hair and straightened his tie, then noticed me watching. “What?”
Even in the dim light from a bulb above the door, Billy’s blush showed.
“You have a Fanny crush.”
“Fanny? A crush? I work with her, that’s all.”
Laura smiled. “Methinks he doth protest too much.”
I gestured to the door. “Go ahead.”
He rapped on the door. “Fanny, it’s Billy…Billy Thornton.”
The clang of a chain being removed from a lock came from inside. Fanny opened the door a crack. “Billy, what a pleasant surprise.” She flashed a smile.
Billy gestured toward Laura and me. “I guess you’ve met Jake and Laura.”
I couldn’t have been more shocked if I’d stuck my hand in a toaster. A freshly scrubbed Fanny wore a simple cotton dress, brown pumps, and a necklace of pearls. She looked like the girl next door instead of some grease monkey.
Her smile vanished as she stepped back and let us in. “Of course.”
Billy never took his eyes off her. She was quite a bit older than he was, but the look in his eyes revealed more than a crush.
Fanny lifted the record from the turntable that sat on a wooden cabinet. With great care she slipped the record into a sleeve and set it on a stack with a couple dozen others. She shut off the record player, a brand-new RCA Victor.
When Billy dropped onto her couch as if he’d been there before, I knew he had. No wonder the kid was speechless when Laura discovered Kalua’s relationship with her.
The sparsely decorated room smelled of cigarettes and coffee. The kitchen, which consisted of a cabinet and a one-burner stove, sat in the far corner next to a wooden table and two chairs that didn’t match. The rest of the room was furnished with a chair covered in plaid fabric and an uncomfortable-looking leather couch. On the wall alongside the kitchen was a doorway leading to a bedroom.
The only personal items hung on the wall beside the front door, seven framed photos of Fanny as a pilot or mechanic. Three of the pictures included Amelia. The photos reflected the hardworking dedication I’d noticed earlier.
The place looked like the kind of dive someone without a lot of dough would rent, except for the expensive phonograph—and her pearl necklace wasn’t cheap either.
I hadn’t interrogated anyone in a while, and I wasn’t sure how to approach the situation. Should I question the shaken mechanic I met in Amelia’s hangar or the sweet girl in front of me? I tossed my hat next to an ashtray on a table beside the door. “Sorry to bother you, Miss Chandler. I have a few questions…”
“What’s this all about, Mr. Donovan?” Her pursed-lipped frown reminded me of our prune-faced high school librarian, Miss Morehead, a
puritanical woman who kept pictures of her four cats on her desk.
“Jake used to be a Pinkerton. George asked him to look into the shooting tonight.” Laura’s voice was soft and soothing. She was obviously going to play the role of the kindly cop, freeing me to question Fanny more aggressively.
“I already told you what happened.” Fanny broke eye contact and took a seat in the one comfortable-looking chair in the whole place. When she sat, her dress slid up enough to show plenty of leg, for Billy’s benefit, or mine.
Behind the innocent look was something I couldn’t quite figure out, but I intended to.
Laura joined Billy on the coach. Perched at the edge of the cushion, they both seemed anxious to learn what the woman would reveal about her relationship with Hank Kalua.
I unbuttoned my jacket and turned to make sure Fanny would glimpse Laura’s gun and realize I was in charge, that I wasn’t going to waste my time or hers. “I’m hoping you can clarify something that’s troubling me.”
She set her hands primly in her lap. “What about?”
“About why your name, address, and phone number showed up in Hank Kalua’s appointment book several times, next to the names of restaurants and nightclubs. Though sometimes the location was left blank.” I glanced toward the open bedroom door.
Fanny’s air of confidence crumbled. She buried her face in her hands and let out a mournful groan. When she looked up, tears danced in her eyes.
Laura jumped up and handed Fanny a hankie.
Fanny dabbed at her eyes and crumpled the hankie in one hand. “Thank you.”
Maybe Fanny was the kind of dame who could turn tears on and off when it met her needs. Laura could do that for a stage or movie role, but in our personal lives, tears were rarely shed, at least in front of me.
Fanny struggled to regain her composure. “He needed my address because he wanted to send me flowers…for my birthday.”
Even Billy didn’t believe that. His eyes narrowed. “Your birthday isn’t until March.” He noticed my surprise that he knew her birthday. “Mr. Putnam has me mail birthday cards to employees.”
Wings in the Dark Page 8