Aloha Means Goodbye

by Robert W. Stephens

  I turned to Sally and found her smiling at me.

  “That was fun. Wasn’t it?” she asked.

  “The best.”

  “We should do it again soon. William makes a lot of trips to Oahu.”

  “Aren’t you worried he’ll find out?” I asked.

  “It wouldn’t be the end of the world if he did. It’s not like our relationship is going to last forever.”

  I really enjoyed my evening with Sally. I found her easy to talk to and her body was unbelievable. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Alana. Would I be able to repair things with her or was Foxx’s predicament too much of a wall between us?

  CHAPTER 25

  Blinded By Bad Fashion

  I awoke the next morning the exact same way as the previous one: face down on Foxx’s sofa and Alana banging on the sliding glass door. I rolled off the sofa and stumbled over to unlock the door. She came inside the house this time.

  Alana looked around at all of Lauren’s paintings.

  “She did incredible work,” she said.

  “Yeah. I feel kind of weird staying here, surrounded by her art.”

  “Why?”

  “Every time I look at one of them I think of her, and then I picture her lying dead on that cold concrete. I can’t get the image out of my mind.”

  “You probably never will.”

  “Thanks. I needed to hear that,” I said.

  “It will fade in time. I remember the first time I saw a murder scene. I couldn’t sleep for two weeks.”

  “Maybe we should change the subject. Can I get you something to drink?” I asked.

  “No thanks. I just came by to see how you were doing. You looked pretty shaken last night.”

  “Still am.”

  Alana put her hands on her hips. I knew there was something awkward coming. “Listen, I don’t want there to be any conflict between us.”

  “I don’t want that either,” I said.

  “I’ll concede that I slightly overreacted to the issue with the photographs if you’ll concede that I had a valid point.”

  “I never thought you didn’t have a valid point. I just didn’t understand why you were accusing me of withholding evidence.”

  “I was kind of freaked. I’ve never done anything like that before.”

  “Like what before? Accuse someone of withholding evidence?”

  “No, like having sex on the beach, especially on the first date.”

  Okay, time to poll the readers. How many of you have heard the phrase, “I’ve never done anything like that before?” The problem with using that old cliché is that it’s an old cliché. Am I supposed to believe her, or is she just saying that to protect her reputation? Does it even matter? It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone about us. Of course, I told all of you, but that doesn’t count, does it?

  “By the way,” she said, “I ran a background check on Sally. You need to be careful around her.”

  “You ran a background check on Sally?”

  “Yeah, she has two convictions for minor drug violations and one count of driving under the influence.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would you run a background check on her?” I asked.

  “Because she’s a possible suspect.”

  “Possible suspect? But you already have Foxx in jail. Are you telling me you think Foxx might not be guilty?”

  She didn’t answer me right away. I knew what she was doing, and I wasn’t sure if I was turned on because she was jealous of Sally or if I was turned off because she was jealous of Sally and had misused her police authority. Okay, I didn’t really care about the authority part of the equation. Jealousy is a weird thing though. There’s a fine line between showing you’re emotionally involved and Fatal Attraction.

  “I just want you to be cautious, that’s all.”

  “So, what did you think of Sally?” I asked.

  “I couldn’t get past the initial blinding.”

  “Initial blinding?”

  “Yeah. I was blinded by bad fashion.”

  I didn’t know how to respond. So I didn’t.

  “Who wears an outfit like that to a séance?” She said this more as a statement than a question.

  “I guess she didn’t realize there were etiquette rules for a séance.” There was no hiding the venom in my voice.

  “Why are you being all defensive?”

  “I’m not,” I said rather defensively.

  “You sure sound like it to me.”

  “I just don’t understand why you’re giving her so much crap. So she wore revealing clothes. Who cares?”

  “I could tell you didn’t mind.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  “You couldn’t take your eyes off her breasts all night.”

  “What is it with you? First you give me the cold shoulder. Then we’re having sex on the beach. Then you’re giving me the cold shoulder again. What do you want from me?”

  “I guess nothing.”

  She turned and headed away from me.

  “Alana.”

  “What?”

  “For the record, you’re a thousand times hotter than Sally.”

  “That’s a lame attempt to get back on my good side.”

  “I wasn’t trying to get back on your good side. I was just speaking the truth.”

  “For the record, I was never worried about it.”

  Alana stormed out, almost breaking the sliding glass door as she slammed it shut.

  I was reminded of another quote from my father: “Some days you just can’t win.”

  CHAPTER 26

  The Big House

  Do you want to hear something terrible? I was absolutely dreading visiting Foxx. I knew it was incredibly selfish of me. But I just couldn’t bear to see that look on Foxx’s face. Still, there were questions that demanded answers, so I made the drive out there, the entire time wondering if I would run into Alana — actually, hoping I would run into her. She clearly came by the house to make up, and I had blown it royally.

  Foxx must have sensed my discomfort at my visit, because he seemed to be going out of his way to appear happy. But Foxx probably wasn’t doing this for me. He was probably doing it for himself.

  “So, Poe, how are you and the beautiful detective getting along?” he asked.

  “I would have thought you’d want to know how the investigation is going.”

  “It can’t be going that great or else you wouldn’t have come in here with that sour look on your face. So do me a favor, please tell me some pleasant news,” he pleaded.

  “Things were going okay between us, the keyword being ‘were.’ We had dinner at this little restaurant in Paia. Then we had sex on a secluded beach afterwards.”

  “You did what?” he asked, completely shocked by the casual way in which I had snuck that into the conversation. That’s a world famous technique of mine.

  “But the next morning everything fell to pieces when she accused me of withholding evidence. So I ended up having lunch with this exotic dancer named Sally and last night had sex with her in a tree house.”

  “Listen, Poe, I said tell me some pleasant news not make shit up.”

  “I’m not Foxx. I swear on a stack of Bibles that I’ve had sex with two hot chicks over the last two nights.”

  “Hell, Poe, it’s been less than a week and you’ve gotten more tail in Maui than you’ve gotten all last year in Virginia. You said one of them was an exotic dancer?”

  “Absolutely.” I gave him my best mischievous smile.

  “I hope you at least wore a condom. You don’t know where that dancer’s been.”

  “She had one for me. Of course that’s not something you think about bringing when you visit someone’s tree house. But after the lap dance-”

  “She gave you a lap dance in a tree house?”

  “Yeah, then she started giving me a blow-job and before you know it-”

  “Oh God,” he groaned. “You didn’t blow your
load, did you?”

  “Hell no, Foxx. I was about to say, before I was so rudely interrupted, that before you knew it she had slipped a condom on me and mounted me.”

  “In a tree house?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, “in a tree house.”

  “Thank you. You have no idea how much I needed that story, even if it was pure bullshit.”

  “It wasn’t bullshit, Foxx. And when I get you out of here, I’ll introduce you to the young lady.”

  “She sure doesn’t sound like a lady to me.”

  “She’s a decent person, Foxx. At least I think she is. I’ve only known her for a couple of days.”

  “Do you know what you are Poe?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “You’re a world class slut.”

  “Yeah,” I smiled. “I guess I am.”

  “So, dare I ask how the investigation is going?”

  I hated bringing up the subject, but I needed answers. So I told Foxx about the nude photographs George showed me. How we all thought Bernard took them but then he turned up with a broken neck at the bottom of the stairs. Then I told him about the séance in the pyramid and Queen Hatchepsut’s proclamation that Five Beers killed Lauren. Foxx hung his head low. I wasn’t sure if he was devastated about the possibility that Lauren was cheating on him or that Xavier seemed to dig an even deeper hole for Foxx to climb out of.

  “Did you ever tell Lauren about your nickname?” I asked, praying to God that he had.

  “I don’t think so. But hell, I’d been with her for so long that I could have easily let it slip. But I doubt it. How the hell did the Pharaoh know about that one?” he asked.

  “That’s what I’d like to know,” I said. “Foxx, had you ever seen any nude photographs of Lauren? Did she ever talk about having posed for some?”

  “No to both questions. But it wouldn’t surprise me if she did. We used to videotape ourselves having sex all the time. She’s definitely not shy about her body.”

  “I wish I could get you to look at those pictures so you could tell me if they were fairly recent or not.”

  “Do you think your detective friend would let you show them to me?” he asked.

  “I doubt it. But it’s worth asking.”

  “Well, you can always look at her nose. That will at least tell you if they were taken in the last five years.”

  “Her nose?” I asked.

  “Yeah, right after I met her she had a surfing accident. Board popped up and broke her nose. I was after her for the longest time to get her nose fixed, but she kept putting it off.”

  I remembered the Halloween parade and how I had wondered if her bent nose was the real thing or part of her witch’s costume. Somehow I would have to get a hold of those photographs again.

  “Do you think you can get me out of here, Poe?”

  I looked him straight in the eye. “I know I can. That’s a promise.”

  “Just do me one favor.”

  “Name it,” I said.

  “Don’t tell the detective about this exotic dancer. I don’t think she’d be too happy.”

  “She sort of already suspects something’s up.”

  “I knew it,” he said.

  “Knew what?”

  “That you’d feel all guilty and go and blab to the detective.”

  “I didn’t blab at all. I said she suspected something was up. She doesn’t know anything for sure.”

  “Well, you do feel guilty, at least I got that part right.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I feel guilty.”

  “Do me another favor, Poe.” Suddenly a wave of sadness and regret washed over Foxx’s face. “Tell her you’re sorry. You never know when you’ll see someone for the last time.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Punk-Ass Kid

  I was depressed and in desperate need of something to cheer me up, so I decided to return to the sight of my date with Alana and try to tackle one of those larger-than-life pancakes. When I pulled into the parking lot I spotted George’s motorcycle.

  There comes a time in all our lives when we reach our breaking point. I had reached mine. I decided to confront George. Sure, he might laugh at me, but I had to give it a shot, even if it meant making stuff up to try to shake him. If I had any advantage over him, it was his youth and inexperience. Of course, I’ve lived a pretty sheltered life. So perhaps it was George who really had the experience edge on me. But maybe, just maybe, I could scare him into letting something slip.

  George was sitting alone at an isolated booth in the back of the restaurant. He had dark circles under his eyes. Was the stress getting to him? So far, so good.

  “Mind if I join you?” I asked. I sat down, not waiting for or really wanting an answer.

  “What the hell do you want?” he growled.

  “I want the truth, George.”

  “You’ll get out of here if you know what’s good for you.”

  He happened to be holding his dinner knife when he made this proclamation. I immediately thought of Lauren lying on the ground, her body riddled with knife wounds. Had George done this to her? Was he about to do it to me?

  In my book there are two types of people who make threats: people who intend to back up those threats, and bullies. We all know what a bully does when you actually have the courage to confront one. The problem was I didn’t know which category George fit in to. I didn’t think he was a bully. I really thought there was a good chance he would respond with violence when I hurled my accusations his way. But George was a small guy, and I was pretty sure I could take him. Sure, he had youth on his side, but I had about a fifty-pound advantage, not to mention the fact that all I had to do was picture Foxx rotting in that jail cell, and I would get all the determination and courage in the world.

  “I think it’s time you came clean, George.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I know you were screwing Lauren.”

  This brought a smile on George’s face.

  “Nice bluff, mister. And how did you determine that?”

  “Oh come on, George. Do you really think you were anything special to Lauren? The woman was a nymphomaniac. She was banging everyone on Maui.” I hated to say this about the dead, and the truth was I didn’t think Lauren was sleeping with anyone other than Foxx and George. But I wanted to make George feel common, anything but special, which I knew he so desperately wanted to be.

  “I don’t think you knew Lauren as well as you think,” he muttered.

  “You’re absolutely right, George. I didn’t know her that well. In fact, I only met her a few hours before she was murdered. But would you like to know who did know her well? My best friend, Foxx. You see, she admitted her affairs to Foxx the night she was killed, and she named you as one of them.”

  George didn’t immediately respond. But he didn’t have to. I could read the truth in his eyes. By the way, did Foxx tell me about the affairs? Absolutely not. If he had, you’d have been the first to know.

  “So she admitted the affairs, so what,” he said.

  “Why do you think they got into such a heated argument at the art show?”

  “So that’s what that was all about. All the more reason to think he killed her.”

  “I know you took those nude photographs of her, George. What I couldn’t figure out for the longest time was why did you show them to me?”

  “Hey, I didn’t take any pictures of her.”

  “You had done a superb job of framing Foxx. Granted, the fact he panicked after seeing her body didn’t help his case any. So I kept asking myself the same question, ‘Why would George want those photographs to surface?’ Then it finally dawned on me: because you’re a punk-ass kid.”

  I smirked, trying to rub the insult in even more.

  “Fuck you,” he snarled.

  “Nice, George, nice, why don’t you just build the case for me even more. You see, not only are you a punk-ass kid, but you’re also a greedy punk-ass kid. And a vengeful one. You
told me you had been doing all of Bernard’s work the last few years. And after meeting Bernard, I can certainly believe you. So here’s what I think happened. You took those photographs, intentionally copying Bernard’s style. Then gave them to a sucker like me, hoping I would bring them out in the open and try to drag Bernard’s name through the mud even more.”

  “You’re crazy, man.”

  “Wait, kid, I’m not finished. That’s the whole part that confused me. Why would you try to destroy a man who had done a pretty good job of that himself? The answer’s money. Bernard had fired you, and you had no immediate prospects for making cash. So you tried to blackmail Lauren with the nude shots. But when that didn’t work, you moved onto Bernard. But he was too wasted to give a shit. So what did you do? You started selling yourself to Nick James.”

  George didn’t respond. There was a look of terror on his face. Had I gotten everything right or just parts?

  “How long have you been screwing Nick for money?”

  “Fuck you. I ain’t gay, and I sure as hell didn’t take those pictures.” He banged his fists on the table. Patrons at the bar started to look at us.

  “You still expect me to believe Bernard took them? The guy was so wasted he probably didn’t no which end of the camera was the lens.”

  “Look, I don’t know who the hell took them. I thought Bernard did.”

  “The game’s over. We’ve already established the fact that you took them.” Why did I keep using clichéd lines like “time you came clean” and “the game’s over?”

  “I did steal them. I took them from Lauren’s house,” he said.

  “I don’t believe you for a second.”

  “We hooked up one afternoon, while your friend was out deep sea fishing. Afterwards, she went to take a shower. I started nosing around her studio. I found the pictures, so I grabbed them.”