"Okay, maybe I'll see you tomorrow. Get some rest, hon."
I clicked off as Brad entered the room. He closed and locked the door behind him, strode over, and gave me a kiss on the top of my head. "Hey, babe. Anything to eat?"
Nice to see you too. "Didn't you get my message?"
"Hmm." He stripped off his shirt and deposited it on the floor. "I've got to take a shower. I'm all sand and sweat."
I rose from the couch and blocked his way to the bedroom. "Do you think you could listen to me for a minute?"
He sighed with impatience and then stroked his finger down the side of my face. "You're cute when you're mad."
"I'm being serious."
He glared at me. "Can't we talk later? I'm beat."
Gee, join the club. Brad was all about himself these days, and I was growing tired of it. "You didn't even read or listen to my messages, did you?"
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and then stripped his shorts off, throwing them on top of the shirt. Even now, with anger surging through me, it was difficult to look away. His body was as close to perfect as one could get, and it was easy to see why women stared at him whenever we went somewhere together. To make matters worse, Brad knew how good-looking he was. If his job had required that he come to work naked, he wouldn't have had a problem with it.
Brad examined the screen. "Oh, sorry. I didn't know you needed a ride. We had a party down at the beach after work. Good thing I got a lift home. Had one too many." He grinned. "But don't worry. I'm all yours for the night, babe."
I sighed in frustration. "Read the next text, please."
He stared at the phone, and I watched as his expression changed to shock, then mild amusement. "No kidding. Well, no great loss. The guy was a major tyrant. I went in there once, and he was ticked off at me for getting sand all over his precious floor. Doesn't he know the customer is always right?"
"Brad, I found his body! They're looking at me as a possible suspect."
He examined his face in the mirror above the bathroom sink and frowned. "Nah. You just started there. Why would anyone think that? You worry too much, dollface."
"Maybe, but I do need a job, and after only two days, I might find myself unemployed again. You did remind me that I'm a freeloader, after all."
He put his arms around my waist and nuzzled my neck. "I'm sorry, baby. Are you okay?"
I let out a long breath. "Yeah, I'll be fine."
He drew back, lifted my chin, and kissed me, but nothing stirred inside for me like it used to. My mother had always told my sister, if you really want to get to know a man before marriage, live with him. It was the one useful piece of advice she'd ever given.
Brad's hands made their way up inside the back of my shirt, and I stiffened. He stopped and looked down at me, a confused expression on his face. "What's the matter now?"
"I told you—I found a dead body tonight. I'm not exactly in a romantic mood."
Brad released me and reached for the glass-enclosed door of the shower. "Yeah. Whatever." He removed his underwear, winked at me, and flung the briefs across the room, where they landed at my feet. "Care to join me?"
I gave him what I hoped was an incredulous look. Brad closed the door behind him, and I heard him chuckle over the spray of the water.
I went outside to the small porch we shared with the other first-floor tenants. The sky was dotted with stars, and a warm breeze drifted in from the water. I watched the nearby palm trees swaying in the breeze as they softly whispered amongst themselves with their own stories to tell.
I leaned against the pillar and closed my eyes. Where had things gone wrong for us? I thought my moving here to join Brad would make everything perfect in my life. Instead I had started to realize that I was living with a man oblivious to my needs and who didn't care about me as much as I'd originally thought. So what am I doing here?
I glanced at my cell phone. It was after midnight, six o'clock back home. The new day was not lost on me. At the very least, I could call and wish her a happy birthday. What harm would it do?
Defeated, I scrolled through the contacts in my phone and dialed the familiar number. She'd be heading off to work soon—well, if she hadn't been hitting the bottle all night. Might as well get it over with.
A scratchy female voice answered after the second ring. "Yeah?"
"Happy birthday."
She gave a snort. "How nice of you to spare a moment for me."
There was never any winning with this woman. "What do you have planned for the day?"
She ignored my question, like she'd been ignoring me for most of my twenty-four years. "I thought you were going to send me some money?"
I shut my eyes tight. "I just got a job. I'll send some when I get paid."
She blew into the phone, an indication that she was sucking the life out of a cigarette. "I need it for rent. Thank God for Penny. Your sister is the only one who's ever cared about me."
"That isn't true, and you know it." We were almost five thousand miles apart, but as I listened to her cold, uncaring voice, I knew it wasn't far enough. It would never be far enough.
"Was there anything else you wanted? I'm very busy here. Some of us can't afford to run off to paradise. Some of us have responsibilities."
"No, that's all." Tears filled my eyes, and I brushed them away. I wasn't crying because of the way she'd talked to me, because after all these years I was finally used to it. It was the realization that I was cutting off all ties with this woman. I'd send the money because I made a promise, but that would be the end of it. You couldn't help someone who had no desire to be helped.
I thought of Keanu and what he'd said earlier. The man barely knew me but had surmised that I wasn't here for palm trees or to escape the white stuff back home. Keanu wondered if there was another reason, and he'd been correct.
She still blamed me for my father leaving all those years ago. I'd tried in vain to make her love me and pay attention to me, but the efforts had been useless. I wondered if the dull ache in my chest would ever completely go away. The two words that I was about to speak held more meaning than she knew.
"Good-bye, Mother."
CHAPTER SIX
As I'd suspected, the voicemail message on my phone turned out to be from Detective Ray. He wanted me to come by the Loco Moco at 12:30 the next afternoon for further questioning. I mentioned it to Brad that morning before he left for work.
"You know," Brad said as he worked his finger around the inside of the peanut butter jar while I still lay in bed after a restless night of sleep, "that's how they do it on the cop shows. This way you can't hear what the other suspects are saying and vice versa." He tapped the side of his head. "Maybe I should have been a cop."
Okay, as long as we were indulging in fantasies, I wanted to be Julie Andrews. "Sorry. I can't see it."
"Hmm." Brad nodded in agreement. "Who wants to get shot at all the time anyway, you know?"
As I approached the café for my appointment, I spotted Keanu sitting by himself at one of the tables on the patio. He caught sight of me and waved me over.
"Get any sleep last night?" Keanu asked. He was wearing black cargo shorts and a dark blue Loco Moco Café T-shirt. The pleasant smell of his cologne drifted through the air to me—a crisp fragrance that was a combined woodsy and musky scent. His blue eyes shimmered in bright sunlight that surrounded us.
I shook my head and wished I'd taken some aspirin. My head was pounding. "Not really. How about you?"
"Not much." Keanu gestured toward the patio door of the café. "Detective Ray's not done with Vivian yet, but when he is, go through the patio entrance. We're trying to avoid attracting more suspicion inside the resort itself."
"Have you spoken to the detective yet?" I asked.
Keanu nodded. "Yes, I was the first one. I've been busy for most of the morning trying to keep people away." He took a healthy sip from the Starbucks cup in front of him. "You missed the earlier crowd."
"What crowd?"
<
br /> "The 'lookie-loos' is what we call them," Keanu explained. "People who heard about the murder and are curious for more details. There were tons of them standing at the café's entrance off of the lobby this morning. All resort guests, I think. Anyway, when Alana decides to reopen the restaurant, the place will be jam-packed, and we'll all be running our tails off. Poncho's a fantastic chef, but they won't be coming here for the food—believe me."
The patio door opened, and Vivian appeared. She looked delicate and pretty in white shorts and a pink lacey tank top. She waved and walked over to us.
"Hey, Care. Are you up next?" she asked.
I nodded. "Should I go in?"
Vivian shook her head. "Detective Ray's gathering his notes together. Better wait till he calls for you. If you ask me, the guy's pretty disorganized. I'm not sure that he could find a K-cup in a Keurig machine. No, he'll come get you when he's ready, like he did to me when he finished with Poncho."
I glanced around. "Where's Poncho now?"
"Gone home, I guess." Vivian took her sunglasses off the top of her head and adjusted them on her face. "He didn't speak to me on the way out, but I will say that he wasn't looking happy."
"What did Detective Ray say?" Keanu asked.
Vivian lowered her face toward the ground. "Uh, he said I wasn't allowed to discuss it with anyone. Oh shoot, I don't see why I can't—"
The door to the patio opened again, and Detective Ray stuck his head out. He frowned when he saw the three of us talking. "Miss Jorgenson, I'm ready for you."
How I dreaded this meeting. What was the point? Hadn't we been over everything last night?
"Good luck," Vivian whispered.
Keanu watched me without a word, the expression on his face intense. I trudged slowly toward the door, wondering what the man was after. And why was he questioning us here instead of down at the police station?
Today Detective Ray was wearing a green Hawaiian shirt with little blue flowers and tan-colored khakis. I wondered if he owned a police uniform—or even a suit—for that matter. He pointed toward the table where his coffee cup and pad were strategically placed. "Make yourself comfortable, Miss Jorgenson."
To my surprise, there was no crime scene tape, like I'd always seen on television shows. Even though I could no longer physically see Hale's body, the vision of him lying on the tiled floor, with blood splattered on the walls, would be forever ingrained in my head. I even knew the exact spot he'd been lying in.
As soon as I sat down, Detective Ray picked up his pen. "Did you happen to notice anything of interest about Mr. Akamu's body last night?"
"Other than his being dead, you mean?" Shoot. I hadn't meant to sound so insolent.
He shot me a grim look. "The sheet of paper from the server's pad. Were you able to get a good look at it?"
"No, Detective. I wasn't thinking about it at the time." My mind had been filled with the image of blood—and pineapple. Panic set in. "Wait, was it mine?"
"It had a number six on the bottom," Detective Ray said. "Vivian said it wasn't hers. Did it belong to you?"
Keanu's. "No."
"Do you know who it belonged to then?"
Uh oh. I didn't want to get Keanu in trouble. I was having a difficult time believing he might be a killer. "I'm new here and not sure who it belongs to."
He gave me a shrewd look. "Miss Banks said that it belonged to Keanu Church."
Well, so much for trying to help a fellow out. This man was deliberately trying to trip me up, and I was starting to get annoyed with him. "If you already knew who it belonged to, then why ask me?"
Detective Ray shifted in his seat. "So you didn't see anyone else on the premises when you found Mr. Akamu's body?"
I thought I'd already answered that question last night. "That's right. The lights were off, and the café was dark when I came back with Hale's drink."
Detective Ray checked his notes. "You came in through the patio entrance?"
"Yes."
"What did you do then?"
"I called out to him. When he didn't answer, I decided to leave the drink on the counter and go home. So I went around behind it, and that's when I saw Hale's shoe propped against the door."
Detective Ray scribbled some more notes on his pad. His handwriting was atrocious and resembled that of a doctor writing a prescription. "Mrs. Akamu said that she found you upstairs with her husband earlier that evening. He told her he was assisting a new employee. Was that the truth?"
My eyebrows rose slightly in disbelief. I had found a dead body. I was new in town, had no ties to the victim, and it was only my second day of employment. Did they honestly think I could have been the one to do this? "No."
He frowned. "Please explain."
I blew out a breath. "Well, Hale told me he didn't think I was cut out for the job. I had spilled some drinks outside, and there was an incident in the café with coffee too. I'm a bit of a klutz sometimes. I asked him for another chance, and then Hale said that he wanted me to go to dinner with him—the next night, I mean, tonight."
Detective Ray's eyes widened. "I see. What did you say?"
Man, this was uncomfortable. "I explained that I had a boyfriend, but Hale didn't seem to care. I had no interest in Hale romantically." Who could? "Then Alan—er, Mrs. Akamu came up the stairs, and I left the room right away. After that they started throwing things and shouting at each other."
The detective's smile was thin. "Getting back to when you found Mr. Akamu's body. Did you notice anything else about it that seemed off?"
"Well, the word pig was written on the paper," I said. "But you already know that." Was this another trick question?
He gave me a sharp look. "Miss Jorgenson, do you have any idea why I'm doing the questioning here instead of down at the police station?"
Clueless, I shook my head. "No, sir."
He started doodling on his pad. "Sometimes people who are present at the crime scene—like you—can offer certain insight to things we might normally miss. For example, the pineapple that was sticking out of Hale's mouth. I checked the fridge after you and Mr. Church left last night. There was a pineapple in there that had a small chunk missing from one side. It was about the size of the piece that was found stuffed down his throat. Did you open the fridge last evening?"
What was he getting at? "No. I had been told that Poncho didn't like the rest of the staff messing around in the kitchen, especially with his fridge. Lola was allowed to use the fridge since she helped with the cooking sometimes."
"Really." Detective Ray made another note.
Oh good grief. I clamped a hand over my mouth. Now I was throwing Poncho and Lola under the bus. "Um, I didn't mean…"
Before I could say anything further, the doors of the kitchen were pushed open, and Alana Akamu barreled in, a five-foot fireball on stiletto heels. She click-clacked her way angrily over to the table where we were sitting and thrust a finger at Detective Ray.
"I need to speak with you, Detective."
Detective Ray rose to his feet. "Please, Mrs. Akamu, you need to wait outside while I finish questioning this woman."
Alana folded her arms across her chest. "No. I need to talk to you this minute, and it can't wait." She shot me a look of defiance. "I'm sure Miss Jorgenson would be willing to wait a few minutes—if she wants to keep her job here, that is."
Why was this woman so nasty to me?
Detective Ray gave me a resigned look. "I'm sorry, Miss Jorgenson. Would you mind waiting outside for a second?"
"Sure, no problem." I rose to my feet and walked past Alana, who raked her eyes over me, nostrils flaring. Jeez. Maybe I shouldn't plan on staying here. Then again, if I left, that might make me appear even guiltier.
Keanu was using a handheld calculator and jotting some figures down on a ledger. I slid into the chair across from him. "Balancing the payroll?"
He smiled. "I'm trying to help Alana out as much as I can regarding the daily receipts. She knows nothing about running a restaura
nt. So how'd it go? That was pretty quick."
"I'm not finished," I said. "She stormed right in and gave me the evil eye. Why does she hate me so much?"
"Because she's aware her husband was interested in you." A muscle twitched in Keanu's jaw. "Alana's no fool. She knows exactly what Hale was capable of."
Great. A woman scorned and out to get me. "But she's okay with my working here?"
Keanu nodded. "I had a talk with her earlier. I explained you have a boyfriend and had no designs on her husband. She agreed to let you stay on. Try to take what Alana says with a grain of salt. She's grieving and doesn't know what she's doing."
I thought about what Vivian said yesterday. Was she really grieving though? My gaze locked on Keanu's, and his mouth formed a thin, hard line.
"I can guess what you're thinking."
"She was nearby last night," I volunteered. "Maybe…"
He held up a hand. "Don't get involved, Carrie. Let the cops handle it."
I pointed at the café. "Detective Ray was asking me questions and deliberately trying to trip me up. He thinks I could have killed Hale."
Keanu nodded. "He did the same thing to me. That's what the police have to do, Carrie. They can't assume anyone is innocent. Stay calm, and don't give them any reason to suspect you. In the meantime Detective Ray said we can reopen for business again tomorrow. Alana was all for it, especially since it's a Saturday, and that's the biggest moneymaking day of the week."
Interesting. Alana had to be sitting pretty right now. I wondered how much in life insurance policies Hale might have had as well.
As if her ears were ringing, the door slammed, and Alana trotted toward us at a rapid pace. I half expected to see her tiny legs topple off those five-inch heels. She glanced at Keanu. "Do the receipts look okay?"
He nodded. "Don't worry. I'll put everything in order."
Alana's face softened. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Keanu." Then she noticed me watching, and her expression immediately soured. "The café will open late tomorrow, and we'll have a staff meeting with everyone first. Carrie, plan on coming in at ten thirty. We'll open at eleven. Customers will be allowed to order breakfast until noon."
Death of the Big Kahuna Page 6