“No problem, Natalie. I was consulting with Marty Soli about Miriam’s autopsy when you called. Nothing unexpected to report on that front; her body will be released for burial in a day or so.”
“That’s good. I’m sure that will help to bring some closure to her Ladies, along with whatever the attorney has told them this morning.”
“You know that the issue of ‘closure’ is overrated….There really is no such thing. Now, what’s come up where you’re concerned?”
“Listen John, before we get into that, I want to clarify that what I’m going to say is not connected to my vision, or anything I’ve found in Miriam’s journals.”
“Okay.”
“And, if I hadn’t already established some credibility with you, I don’t know how I could tell you what I think really happened to Miriam.”
“All right, Natalie. I’m ready for whatever you’ve got to tell me.”
“Simply put, it was a mistake: Miriam was killed by mistake. She wasn’t the target. Samantha was.”
After a sharp intake of breath, John asked, “And what makes you think that’s so?”
“Well, before this morning, I’ve always seen Samantha with her hair in a braid or coiled on top of her head. But today, just as I finished reading a letter Miriam had left in case of her death, I looked up to see Samantha standing in the doorway of Miriam’s bedroom, with her long, blond hair flowing over her shoulders…and it just hit me.”
“Hmm,” said John, after a pause. “I’ll have to say there’s nothing about Miriam that has emerged to make her a likely target for a hit man. And it’s clear that the killer was a pro. I’ve run all of The Ladies through preliminary background checks and nothing of interest emerged, except that Samantha’s husband is a scumbag.”
“I was pretty sure that was the case. She’s never divulged anything about her situation, but she wouldn’t have been at Hale Malolo unless she needed to get away from him.”
“I’d better set some things in motion here regarding him. Then I think I need to hurry over your way for a little chat with Samantha about her marital situation. I’ll give you a call when I’ve got everything set. Do you have the time to join us this afternoon? There’s no telling what might emerge and I want you present for several reasons—if only because of how emotional she can get.”
“That’s no problem, John. I only left Miriam’s because I was afraid to say anything to her without talking to you first. Call me when you’ve decided what you want to do.”
“Okay. I’ll check back with you soon. By the way, what’s up with Joanne and Izzy? When was their appointment with Miriam’s attorney?”
“This morning. They’re due back now and I’m sure they’ll be home by the time you get here,” I replied.
Disconnecting, I quickly ate my lunch, checked Miss Una’s supplies and tidied my hair and makeup. Knowing that some serious details regarding Samantha’s life and marriage would be discovered that afternoon, I called Nathan to check on her mental state.
After telling him what was on the agenda, I said, “I know you can’t divulge anything Samantha may have said in consultation with you, but do you think she’s strong enough to undergo an in-depth interview about her marriage?”
“I can easily answer that question, since she’s not a client. From what I’ve observed of her, both before and after Miriam’s death, she is emotional and subject to abrupt tears, but she’s really quite stable underneath. She’s solid in her decision to leave her husband Luke and she hasn’t been overly secretive about his being a creep who is a borderline criminal at best. Yes, I think you and John can interview her. But, I’m appalled to think that Miriam’s death may have been a total mistake.”
After John called to confirm a meeting with Samantha at Miriam’s cottage that afternoon, I tried calling Keoni again. When he did not pick up, I left a message telling him what I had learned and where I would be for the rest of the day.
When I arrived at Miriam’s cottage, Izzy and Joanne had returned from their morning of legalese and were excited to tell me about what they had learned.
Not knowing what John had revealed to Samantha, I thought I should be careful about what I said. “I see I’m ahead of John.”
“Yes,” returned Samantha, with her usual lack of detail.
“Why don’t we all enjoy a cup of tea or coffee until he arrives,” suggested Izzy, who was bustling about the kitchen.
“I had more than my quota of caffeine this morning,” I said. “But I could go for an herbal tea.”
“Hm. I know we’ve got mint and maybe chamomile as well,” she offered.
“Okay, mint it is. I’m not big on chamomile, even though it’s supposed to be good for you.”
“That’s for bedtime,” said Joanne entering the kitchen with a laundry basket. “I’ll have mint as well when I get back from hanging this to air,” she said continuing on out the back door.
Within a couple of minutes, the four of us were seated at the kitchen table with Miriam’s beautiful blue and white cups in hand.
“I don’t usually use Miriam’s good china, but I think we deserve a celebration,” said Izzy, passing a plate of her yummy macadamia and white chocolate cookies.
“Good call, Izzy,” affirmed Joanne. “We have a lot of reasons to celebrate, and Miriam is, of course, at the center of it all.”
“It’s so exciting. She always told me that I’d be taken care of,” said Izzy with a big smile on her face.
“Yes. Caring for women and children was Miriam’s great goal in life, and it appears she has continued to do so past her death,” said Joanne. “We’ve been declared official tenants of Miriam’s home for as long as we wish to remain. It even includes Samantha, since she was here prior to Miriam’s death. The maintenance, upkeep and monthly operational expenses are paid for by the trust Miriam set up.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said in honest admiration for what Miriam had done.
“I still can’t believe it. I’d just come to join them,” chimed in Samantha.
“New, or long-term, it didn’t matter to Miriam. She wanted all of her Ladies protected, throughout their lives,” explained Joanne.
“And whenever we have all left or passed, the remaining assets will be gifted to UNICEF,” said Izzy.
I paused for a moment, trying to absorb the enormity of Miriam’s generosity. “I’m so happy for all of you. It looks like her Trust encompasses everything Miriam believed in.”
“Yes. Graças a Deus,” said Izzy. “When Lieutenant Dias called about coming over, he said the Medical Examiner’s office is releasing Miriam’s body soon. So we need to start planning for her funeral or memorial.”
“We’re so glad you’re here, Natalie. We sure would appreciate your helping us with the memorial arrangements,” proposed Joanne.
“Could you join us for lunch tomorrow?” asked Izzy.
“I’d love to, but I’m waiting to learn if my new car is ready for pickup and I may not know about my schedule until the morning,” I answered.
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” said Joanne. “We’re still getting resettled, so just let us know if you can come, even if it’s at the last minute.”
“And if tomorrow isn’t good, why don’t you and Keoni let us take you out for margaritas and pūpūs at Haleiwa Joe’s Seafood Grill at Ha`ikū Gardens at sunset tomorrow,” offered Joanne.
Not knowing where they stood financially, I hesitated to accept the invitation.
“We even get a monthly stipend for entertaining,” announced Izzy. “It begins immediately, so you’ll be our first guests.”
Obviously, with The Ladies’ life-changing—or perhaps I should say stabilizing—news, the cost of cocktails and hors d’oeuvres would not be a problem. Therefore, I accepted the double-pronged invitation on the proviso that Keoni did not have a scheduling conflict.
I was glad John had suggested interviewing Samantha at home. If there was reason to worry about her husband looking for her, it was good that we were not downtown at police headquarters. And, if she needed physical reassurance, I would be there to comfort her.
In Miriam’s bedroom, John gestured for Samantha to sit in the rocker and for me to sit on a chair someone had set next to it. After placing a few items on the desk, he pulled its chair out for himself. Striving to put her at ease, he said, “Thanks so much for helping us, Samantha. There’s no way of knowing how the tiniest piece of information might help us in solving Miriam’s murder—let alone any other crimes that might surface as we go along. So I want you to feel comfortable to say whatever comes to mind.”
She did not respond verbally, but nodded and stared straight ahead as she rocked slightly back and forth.
“While facts will aid us in running down the specifics, your inner thoughts and feelings can also be useful—not to mention any suspicions you may have.”
“I’m glad to help.”
He nodded. “Now, before we begin, is there anything I can get for you ladies to be comfortable for might be quite a while?”
“Uh, maybe some water would be good,” I suggested.
He rose to go back down to the kitchen and I looked at Samantha. “Are you okay about this, Samantha,” I asked.
“Yes, Natalie. With everything Miriam did to help all of us, I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
John reentered the room with a couple of bottles of water. Accepting one with a simple “Thank you,” Samantha eased back into the rocker. I set mine on the floor beside my chair, where I was glad to see a box of tissues at the ready.
“Well, then, we’ll get started,” said John. “I’m going to be recording our talk, Samantha. That way I can concentrate on our conversation and not worry about taking notes.”
“Okay.”
As he prepared to turn on his voice recorder, John said, “I don’t know where your information might lead the investigation. But I’ll be grateful for anything you can give me now, or even after our conversation today.”
Samantha nodded and he proceeded to enter the day, time, location and our three names. Although I had to be identified as being present in the room, we had agreed ahead of time that except for offering Samantha a supportive nod or pat on the shoulder, I would remain silent during her interview.
“To put things in perspective, I think it would help for you to tell us about how you first met your husband, Luke Turner.”
Samantha looked confused. John looked calm; like he was accustomed to interviewees who said nothing. I wondered how I could help to get things on track.
“My husband? I don’t understand. I thought you wanted to talk about Miriam.”
“That’s right, Samantha. Miriam is our focus. But I need to understand a little bit about everyone in her life. I know that you came to her home from Hale Malolo, where you sought shelter from your, ah, husband.”
“Yes.”
At the rate we were going, it would be midnight before John learned anything that might help his investigation. “Samantha, why don’t you tell the lieutenant what you told me about Luke…and how you came here.”
“It seems so long ago.”
“I first met Luke, when I left a detox program.
John’s left eyebrow went up, but he continued to write notes in his little blue book.
“I tried to make my parents happy most of my life, but college was very hard for me.”
Samantha paused and drank some water. She then placed the bottle on the floor. Looking down, she began to rock slowly back and forth. With a sigh, she stared into space and resumed her recollections.
“I’d been sick as a teenager, and was late in getting a high school diploma. After a couple of years of jumping from job to job, I studied really hard to make it into the University of Denver. Even though I really tried, I barely made it to the end of my freshman year. Stubborn as always, I didn’t want to confess that I couldn’t keep up. But from the beginning of my sophomore year, I just kept slipping—one class at a time…one beer at a time.
“After two months, I had dropped all but two classes. That weekend I joined my roommate for a weekend party at a frat house. About the last thing I remember is her leaving with her boyfriend and me remaining at the party with one of his buddies. I don’t know what happened after Chantel left. Eventually, I woke up at the door of a hospital’s emergency room. Without any ID, I ended up staying two days until someone noticed I was missing. Finally my mother showed up to claim me.
“Unlike other weekends when I’d simply had too many beers, someone decided it would be funny to give me roofies. Not only had I never done any pharmaceuticals, I’d never even smoked pot. I’d done binge drinking before, but the combination I had that night was too much. The doctor told my Mom that my system also had an large amount of tequila on top of the beer and drugs. But the main reason I was in the hospital was because I’d been raped multiple times and had wounds of several types I won’t mention.
“It was painful, but my parents recognized I wasn’t college material—and that my drinking had gone beyond the weekend party scene. They insisted I go into rehab. After that, I went home and spent some time just chilling out. I’d never been much of a party girl in high school and was so embarrassed about all my failures that I didn’t want to see any of my friends.
“I spent a couple of months of doing nothing except helping the staff with the cleaning and gardening. Then, one day, an unusual opportunity came up with a family in the neighborhood. I had always thought my good friend Bethany had lived a life that was fairytale perfect. She had been a cheerleader; was high school homecoming queen; and had gotten an associate degree in culinary science. Finally, she had married Doug Adams, her longtime sweetheart. Recently, she had moved to Japan where Doug had a job with an international conglomerate. Unfortunately, Bethany was lying in a coma after a car accident caused by her being drunk. Her husband declared he couldn’t care for their son and was calling relatives stateside to find someone to assume responsibility for the boy.
“Since Doug’s parents were on a mountainside in South America, Bethany’s Mother was looking for someone to bring the child to her. I agreed to play escort to the toddler, and within a day I was in Hamamatsu, Japan. The next morning, I boarded a high-speed train to Tokyo. Travelling in any foreign country can be a challenge. Travelling with a two-year old is even worse. That day I was lucky to meet Luke, who insisted on our joining him in his limo for the trip from the train station to the airport. I don’t know how I would have managed all the toys, bags, and the child without Luke’s help.
“Mid-day I was on a plane with a boy I’d only met once as a baby. Because I was a Caucasian and an American, everyone thought he was my son and Luke was my husband. Except for the fact that my days of drinking champagne were over, I enjoyed the perks of flying first class. By the time we reached Honolulu, where Luke deplaned, he’d promised to call about a job he thought I might enjoy—involving lots of first-class travel, and no toddlers.
“That’s how I became a courier for Luke. At first it was like the job I had performed for Beth’s mother. My first assignment was to escort the teenage daughter of Luke and his wife Renée to boarding school in Switzerland. Their need may have been real, but on the way back, a man identifying himself as one of Luke’s colleagues took me to an elegant lunch in Paris. As we parted, he gave me the traditional kisses on both cheeks, plus a surprise birthday gift for Renée that I was to pass on to Luke to on my return to Hawai`i.
“I believed everything Luke told me without ever che
cking on him, his business, or anything he told me. He described himself as the CEO of an international firm specializing in a wide range of services for clients investing in art, jewelry, and antiques that often needed to be picked up or delivered by courier. I asked why they didn’t use one of the large international shipping companies. He said that would draw too much attention. His clients preferred discreet and personalized delivery services.
“It was all very exciting for several years. I got to go to exotic places and meet beautiful people. My parents thought I’d found the ideal job for a young woman without a college degree. I remained clean and sober, had a great wardrobe and frequently showed up for family celebrations. I even had money to give nice gifts to my relatives and friends.
“Since I was on the road most of the time, I never fully settled in one place. What I didn’t keep at my parents’ home in Denver, I put in a studio apartment in Pearl City, near the Honolulu airport. Although their Wai`alae Iki Ridge home was quite a distance from my apartment, I was happy to attend the gatherings Luke and Renée invited me to whenever I was in the Islands.
“The Turners’ staff and guests were multi-ethnic, reflecting the nations of my overseas junkets. I often saw the same people at their home that I met when on assignment. At the time, it didn’t seem unusual that Luke’s clients repeatedly showed up on his A-list for social events. The one thing that did seem odd was that I made a lot of trips to a single destination in Marseilles, France. Since Renée was French, I thought the Marseilles clients might be friends of her family. As I look back today, it seems surprising that all the clients I met were men—since I’ve found that women are usually the purchasers of jewelry, antiques, and art.
“Several years after joining the team, I received a text from Luke informing me that Renée had drowned at their estate in Playa de Carmen in Mexico. I immediately expressed my condolences and asked how I could help him. Overnight, my schedule changed drastically. I was spending a lot more time in Hawai`i, where Luke often asked me to perform as the hostess of his social gatherings. In less than six months, I’d gone from being a minor member of an international organization to being the wife of its chief executive.
Murder on Mokulua Drive Page 19