Aloha Means Goodbye

by Robert W. Stephens

Alana’s apartment was decorated in traditional Japanese décor or at least how I imagined that would look. It was very charming and quite peaceful if I do say so myself. The main living room was long and narrow. Alana had placed two silk screens in the center of the room to create a recreation area on one side and a dining area on the other. The dining area was complete with a small table just big enough for two people. I particularly enjoyed the mini water fountain by the window. There’s just something about the sound of running water.

  “I take it either one or both of your parents is Japanese,” I said.

  “Father is. Mother’s Hawaiian.”

  So I had guessed right when I first saw her at the Halloween parade in Lahaina.

  “Do you speak Japanese?” I asked.

  “Fluently.”

  The woman was multitalented.

  We sat in silence for several moments, just looking at each other.

  “We found a saved message on Nick’s answering machine. It was from George. Pretty harsh stuff,” she said.

  “What did he say?” I asked, part of me not really wanting to know.

  “Admitted to Nick that he was using him to benefit his career. Made fun of Nick’s sexuality.”

  “Made fun of Nick’s sexuality? So do you think George was implying he wasn’t really gay and was only playing a part with Nick?”

  “Maybe. It wasn’t just what he was saying though. It was how he said it. He was angry, cruel, but rambling, too, like he was on drugs or something.”

  “Maybe he was. God, I still feel terrible. I can’t help thinking that if I hadn’t been so confrontational with George, he would still be alive today,” I said.

  “How can you say that? George was a seriously disturbed young man. He was playing everyone for the fool. Besides, you didn’t make him tie that rope around his neck. Maybe it was suicide. Maybe it was an accident. But whatever it was, it was the result of George’s decisions, not yours.”

  This woman had it all. Beauty. Intelligence. I was falling for her hard, but part of me didn’t want to be. I don’t know why. Maybe it was the recent break-up with Dorothy. Maybe it’s my annoying habit of not wanting people to get too close. Either way I was having a hell of a time not professing my love for this lady.

  “How’s your shoulder doing?” she asked. “You should probably lay off the pain pills tonight. You’ll want to be sharp.”

  “No problem. The shoulder only hurts when I move.”

  “Then we better go easy on you tonight. I’m gonna go make dinner. You can watch TV if you like.”

  What did I say about the perfect woman?

  “Would you like some help?” I asked, not really meaning it.

  “No, you need your rest. Besides, dinner will only take a few minutes.”

  “TV dinners?” I asked.

  “Now would I invite you over to my apartment just to serve you a TV dinner?”

  Alana slipped into the kitchen. I turned on the television and leaned back in the chair. I was determined to milk this injury thing for all it was worth. I watched about half an episode of the World’s Strongest Man Competition before Alana returned with a small stack of pancakes.

  “Does this mean another trip to our private beach is in store?”

  “I thought we decided not to wear you out before the séance?”

  We ate our pancakes and went over the plan for the evening. Alana had finally bought into my theory on the killer’s identity. Our plan was simple, almost on the level of elementary. That way there would be less chance of things going wrong. Or so I thought.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  I looked at my watch.

  “Seven.”

  “I need to get down to the station soon,” she said. “But I should be able to put that off for another thirty minutes.”

  She motioned to the hallway leading to the rest of her apartment.

  “I haven’t given you the full tour,” she said.

  She led me back to her bedroom. It was a small room and the Queensized bed took up 90% of the space. I lay down on the soft pillow top. With a full stomach and the cool breeze blowing through the open window, I could have gone to sleep faster than you can say aloha.

  Alana slipped off her skirt, and I was wide awake again. A fantastic meal and sex with a beautiful woman - if this wasn’t the last wish of a man going off to meet his fate, I didn’t know what was.

  CHAPTER 34

  The Return of Queen Hatchepsut

  Like I said before, the plan was simple. Alana would wire me with a small transmitter and a mini digital recorder. Two other detectives in a van at the entrance to Xavier’s driveway would be operating a back-up recording device, which would pick up everything that was said during the séance. Alana and three police officers would be hiding in the thick tropical growth surrounding the pyramid. Alana would have a headset that would also be receiving the audio feed from my transmitter. If anything were to go wrong, they could be in the house within seconds. I should have nothing to worry about, she said.

  But I was still worried. What worried me was the time it would take Alana and the officers to storm the pyramid. Just seconds, she said. But I can tell you from practical experience that it only takes one second for a bullet to hit you. Still, there was no turning back now. Either I found the courage to go through with this or Foxx spent the rest of his life in jail. There really was no question about it. I was going into that pyramid.

  “It’s only going to be the three of us,” Gina had said, completely ignoring the sling on my arm. All of her previous warmth and hospitality was gone. It was like she was in a daze, too unemotional to care about anything. Or was she so emotional that she had simply shut down?

  I thought Xavier needed the energy of a large group to summon the queen. Maybe they suspected what I was there for, and maybe they had a plan for me that they didn’t want anyone to see. Xavier kept me waiting again. This time for four hours. I grew extremely sleepy and even dosed off a few times. Gina was of no assistance. I had hoped we could spend the time talking. Maybe I would have been able to learn some piece of valuable information before the séance. But it was not to be. Gina spent the entire four hours in her private library. Reading, I imagine, but I didn’t really know. The door had been shut.

  Gina had given me the run of their kitchen. After the second time I fell asleep, I decided I needed an injection of caffeine. Before I knew it, I had drunk three Diet Cokes. Now, time for a little quiz. What’s wrong with drinking three Diet Cokes? Well, there’s only one calorie per drink, so it can’t be that. Give up yet? Here’s the answer. There’s nothing wrong with three Diet Cokes. Unless you happen to be wired and you come to the sudden unfortunate realization that you have to take a piss.

  I found the bathroom and had little time to think. I was about to explode. Should I try to disconnect the transmitter so they won’t hear me urinating? Too risky. I unzipped and let it fly. I could only begin to imagine Alana’s reaction.

  “Sorry about this Alana,” I said into the transmitter. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea to enter a séance with a bladder about to burst.”

  Within minutes of my bathroom break Gina appeared.

  “Xavier’s ready,” she said.

  It was amazing how she said this with such little fanfare. Before she had been so dramatic, looking up to the heavens to proclaim the commencement of the séance. But now she was coming across like a receptionist who’s letting you know the dentist is ready to fill your cavity.

  I followed Gina down the narrow hallway, past the torches and into the round séance chamber. Xavier was in the same position as before, rocking back and forth, chanting like there’s no tomorrow.

  Gina motioned me to sit on the side of the table opposite Xavier. She sat down beside him. I had the same sensation I do at job interviews. Each party separated by a large table. One side has something the other one wants, and that side probably already knows if the other one is going to get it.

  The shri
ll voice appeared as before. We made it past the high priestess again and got back to the calm, sophisticated voice of Queen Hatchepsut.

  “Who seeks Queen Hatchepsut?” Xavier asked, still swaying back and forth.

  “We do.” Gina replied.

  “What do you ask of her?” Xavier asked, his voice growing louder.

  “We want to know who killed Lauren Rogers,” Gina said.

  “Why do you ask what you already know?” Xavier asked.

  “Actually, Queen,” I interrupted. “May I call you Queen?”

  Gina looked shocked by my intrusion. I didn’t know if anyone but she had ever spoken to Hatchepsut. But I certainly wasn’t about to let Gina run this show. Xavier didn’t respond to my question, so I went on.

  “Queen Hatchepsut I respect your wisdom and knowledge, so I wanted to run a little theory of mine by you and see what you thought of it.”

  Neither Gina nor Xavier made any indication they wanted me to stop, so I continued.

  “I’ll freely admit that when I got back to Foxx’s house the night Lauren was killed, I was terrified. Foxx was crying. There was blood all over his pants and his hands. There was definitely a part of me that thought he might be guilty. But still, I had to have faith that my friend was telling me the truth when he said he didn’t do it.”

  Xavier’s swaying started to slow down, and I got the distinct impression he started to worry. Gina stayed calm, but she wouldn’t make eye contact with me.

  “For the longest time I thought Nick James was the guilty party,” I continued. “He had reasons to kill Lauren. Millions of reasons, actually, all in the form of dollar signs. When I first met Nakia at the art show, she told me about the competition and jealousy between the artists. Nakia’s one of the video producers, Queen Hatchepsut, in case you didn’t know. Anyway, I had assumed Nakia was referring to the actual art. But now I believe she was talking about the personal relationships between the artists.”

  I paused to see if this got their attentions, but they gave no indication that it did.

  “This whole case revolves around George, a greedy young man in way over his head. George was hired by the video producers to work on the shoots. The interviews gave George the opportunity to hear the backgrounds and secret thoughts of all the artists. It’s amazing what the video camera will do to some people. All of a sudden they start telling you their innermost thoughts. George is a smart guy. He starts to realize the depth of hostility within the Maui art community. George is also a realist. He’s been busting his butt for the last couple of years working for Bernard, and he’s getting nowhere fast. He’s broke, and he’s desperate for a career of his own. Along comes Lauren Rogers, who offers George industry connections as well as her bed. Of course Lauren isn’t really interested in helping George’s career, so when George finds the nude photographs of Lauren in her house, he sets out on a quest for blackmail.”

  “Five beers did this,” Xavier screamed. “Why do you search for a killer who is already behind bars?”

  I ignored his outburst and continued. “What I couldn’t figure out was why George would attempt to blackmail Bernard, his employer. Who cares if Bernard was having an affair with Lauren? Bernard would have nothing to lose if that secret came out. Sure he might get punched in the nose by Foxx, but that would be about it. But then I started thinking about George. He’s a smart guy. He was bound to know Lauren wouldn’t spend time with a drunk like Bernard. But George thinks Bernard would know who took those photographs. He’s a skilled photographer, after all, and Maui is a small island. So George shows them to Bernard, and indeed Bernard recognizes the work. And why wouldn’t Bernard recognize the work? He had stolen that style years ago.”

  At this point Gina looked up at me. Her eyes were filled with rage.

  “I think Bernard stole his style from Xavier. Ray London had told me that many artists on Maui owed their styles and their careers to work that Xavier had conceived and then dropped out of boredom. My guess is that’s why there’s such a similarity between Xavier’s photography and Bernard’s.”

  “Everyone steals from him,” Gina proclaimed. “He’s a genius, and they all know it.”

  “I know about you and Bernard,” I said to Gina. “He was crushed when you left him for Xavier. When George showed Bernard the nude photographs, Bernard realized at once what it meant. Xavier had taken the photos and was probably in love with Lauren. Bernard could use this information to destroy Xavier’s marriage to you and finally get his revenge.”

  Gina looked away from me, and I knew I was right about it all. She started to cry softly. I felt sorry for her, but not enough to let Foxx stay in jail.

  “Of course, Xavier wasn’t going to let that happen, so he pushed Bernard down the staircase. It wouldn’t be hard to believe that a poor drunk like Bernard had simply fallen to his death.”

  Xavier finally stopped swaying back and forth. Had I finally gotten the queen’s attention?

  “Everything revolved around George. When I put the pressure on him, accusing him of blackmail and murder, George panicked and pressed down hard on Xavier, now armed with the suspicion that Xavier killed his mentor Bernard. Xavier had no choice. He’d already committed two murders. What’s one more?”

  “No,” Gina yelled. “He didn’t do those things. He couldn’t have.”

  “I know Xavier is a murderer three times over, Queen Hatchepsut. And you know it too. But the question is, how could he possibly think he could keep killing after Foxx was in jail? Didn’t he realize that so many deaths in one week, even if two of them looked like accidental deaths, would raise the suspicions of the police? Didn’t Xavier realize it was only a matter of time before someone discovered his love affair with Lauren? But here’s what I really want to know. How does a freak like Xavier manage to land a chick as hot as Lauren?”

  Well, I probably didn’t need to throw out the personal insult at the last second, but I wanted to enrage the man. Throw him off balance as much as I could. This was the moment of truth. I had laid all my cards on the table. My theory made perfect sense, at least to me anyway. But the sad truth is that I didn’t have one single shred of proof. All Xavier had to do was keep quiet. There wasn’t anything I or the police could do to touch him. But would he realize that? Especially at a time as stressful as this when some smart ass like me comes into his sanctuary and uncovers the truth he was no doubt desperate to keep locked away in the confines of his stone pyramid? Then the strangest thing happened. I got my answer, but not from the person I expected.

  “The day Lauren Rogers left my husband’s studio was the happiest day of my life,” Gina said. “I didn’t know why she left. I didn’t really care. I knew Xavier was having an affair with Lauren. He was devastated when she left. I knew I would never completely have his heart as long as she lived. But I learned to deal with it. Then ten years later she shows up at our doorstep once more. She said she’d hit a wall with her art, and she needed Xavier’s help again. But I knew what was really going on. It was that damn lawsuit by Nick James. She would have to switch her style if she was to survive, and she needed Xavier’s help to do it.”

  Even stranger was that Xavier had no reaction to his wife’s comments. He just sat there with his eyes closed, and his body started to sway back and forth again.

  “Lauren Rogers used people. She destroyed marriages. She destroyed lives,” Gina said.

  “You killed her,” I said, the truth finally revealing itself. I had been so certain it was Xavier. But I was wrong.

  “Then one day Bernard calls me,” Gina continued. “Tells me Xavier and Lauren were having an affair. Says he knows Xavier killed Lauren. And he has proof.”

  “So you pushed him down the stairs,” I said.

  “Like you said, Poe, there wasn’t much to it. No one would have expected murder. No one except you.”

  “And George. You killed him too.”

  “I don’t know anything about George’s death.”

  “What about the knife?
How did you manage to use the knife without smearing Foxx’s fingerprints?” I asked.

  “Does it matter?” she asked in return.

  Something was wrong here. Obviously, you’re probably saying. A woman’s just admitted to killing two prominent artists, and she admitted this during a midnight séance in a pyramid. Isn’t everything about that wrong? What happened tonight that could possibly be construed as right?

  But that wasn’t what I was talking about. Gina was too calm. Much too calm. Her little speech came off completely void of emotion. Does that sound like someone who’s just admitted to murder? Lauren had destroyed Gina’s life. Where was the venom when talking about her death? Hell, she had shot me the evil eye just a few moments ago, and now she was acting like she was simply reciting something as insignificant as a weather report. It was a speech, and I mean that literally, for that is exactly the way it came across: like a speech, one that had been rehearsed for four hours in the library before the séance. She knew why I had come there, and she wasn’t going to let her husband be led away in handcuffs. She loved him too much, despite his affair. She was more than willing to fall on the sword.

  “You didn’t kill them,” I said. “You’re covering for your husband. You love him, and you’ll do anything to keep him out of jail.”

  I turned to Xavier. He opened his mouth, but the voice that came out was not his own, and not even Queen Hatchepsut. It was the voice of another man, deeper and more powerful than Xavier’s.

  “My Queen, I cannot let you do this. You are innocent,” Xavier said.

  “Who am I talking to now?” I asked.

  “My queen could not have killed anyone. Her heart is too pure.”

  “So you did kill Lauren,” I said.

  “No,” Gina cried, finally breaking her calm, “Don’t you understand. Xavier’s killed no one. It was Ramses. Ramses killed her.”

  “You want me to believe another personality of Xavier’s killed Lauren?” I asked. God, I hoped Alana was getting all of this.

  “She was so beautiful,” Xavier said, still in the different voice. “How ironic that a slave girl should be the most beautiful woman in all of Egypt. I took her as my consort and loved her like no other. My queen was filled with so much jealousy, so much hate.”