"Sure. Break a leg, hon." She disconnected.
"What gives?" Tad's catlike green eyes shone in the sun with curiosity.
I held up a hand while I checked my voicemail. Call me crazy, but I already had a premonition of who'd left me a message and it turned out that I was correct. When I heard the deep male voice on the other end, a rush of cold air blew through me, even in the hot Hawaiian sun.
"Carrie, this is Detective Ray Kahoalani. I realize you're in a production tonight, but I'd appreciate your stopping by the station afterward so we can have a little chat. I'll be here quite late—waiting for you."
CHAPTER EIGHT
"This guy is really starting to piss me off," Keanu muttered between clenched teeth as he gripped my hand tightly, and we walked toward the police station.
It was after eleven o'clock at night, but lights still shone from the single-story stucco structure in the middle of town where Detective Ray could be found lurking. For some odd reason, I found myself wondering what color Hawaiian shirt he would be wearing tonight.
I'd texted Keanu before the show and told him about Ray's voicemail. He'd insisted on coming along and was waiting for me outside when the show had ended. The entire cast was going out for drinks afterward, but I'd explained to Jeff that I needed to take a rain check since real life was calling.
Keanu didn't swear often but had muttered a few expletives on the phone as he wondered aloud why Detective Ray was determined to destroy me and his family's livelihood.
I only wanted this awful day to end. My arms still ached, although the ointment I'd been using had started to help. Plus, I couldn't remove the image of Randolph drawing his last breath from my head.
Exhaustion had seeped into my bones, and my performance tonight had been nothing short of terrible. On top of everything, Jeff had been in a real crappy mood as well. This was becoming the new norm in my life—everyone around me either seemed to be irritated or disliked me for some reason, such as Terry, Jeff, and Coral. The disgruntled mood had also transferred itself to Keanu, although I knew his anger wasn't directed at me.
Jeff had come backstage after the performance to tell me and Jennifer—the woman who played Amy March, my character's little sister—that our performances were two of the most God-awful ones he'd ever witnessed during his entire career. To say that we'd both been stunned was an understatement. In fact, Jennifer had broken down in tears while Jeff was still there ranting, and then he'd merely walked away without another word. Needless to say, I wasn't exactly heartbroken that we would not be chatting together over drinks tonight.
I relayed the story to Keanu as we walked into the station, and he was furious. "I can't believe that jerk is giving you such a hard time. Did you tell Jeff that you found a dead body this morning? That's bound to affect anyone's performance."
"No. The first thing you learn as an actor is that there is no excuse for a bad performance. If you're suffering, the performance should be all the better." My high school director had quoted those famous words to me when I'd portrayed Laura in The Glass Menagerie, and they'd stuck with me ever since.
Keanu rubbed my arm. "Stop beating yourself up. Jeff needs to get over himself. It's not like he's directing a Broadway production."
I knew he was trying to make me feel better, but nevertheless, the words still hurt. Like any other show I'd ever been in, this one meant something. For me, acting was a passion. It must be similar to the way a writer felt about their book, or an artist about their painting. Keanu thought this was merely a hobby for me when in fact it was so much more. He didn't understand how consumed I was. No one did.
"It doesn't matter if it's Broadway or a rundown theater in a back alley somewhere," I replied. "An actor should never give less than his best performance."
Keanu blew out a sigh and pulled me against him. "I'm sorry, Care. I didn't mean it to come off like your show isn't important. You know how proud I am of you."
I kissed him on the cheek. "No worries. I understand." We were both worn out and frustrated with the events of the day. Neither one of us was jumping up and down at the thought of visiting the great detective either.
Keanu opened the door to the station. "Let's hurry up and get this over with. After we're done, let's go across the street to the coffee shop. When's the last time you ate?"
I didn't even remember. "Breakfast maybe?"
He looked startled. "No wonder your performance was off tonight. We've got to get some food into you."
"I just want to be with you. That's all that I need."
Detective Ray was at the front counter, talking in earnest to the man stationed behind it. They both glanced up as we entered the building, and Ray watched us approach with unbridled interest.
"Carrie, you made it." He nodded at Keanu. "I see that you decided to come back for more too."
Keanu's jaw stiffened. "I didn't want Carrie to come alone. She's had a long day."
"We all have," Ray said wearily as he motioned for us to follow him down the hall to his office. When we reached the doorway, I stared inside with equal parts of fascination and disgust. Detective Ray was a major slob. The desk was piled high with papers and a paper plate that held a half-eaten sandwich that had seen better days. Discarded paper coffee cups filled the overflowing trash can in the corner, and a file cabinet situated against the wall was buried underneath assorted books and papers. A philodendron in the opposite corner of the room looked like it hadn't been watered in weeks and was destined to die a slow death.
He nodded at the two padded chairs in front of his desk then stepped forward to clear a stack of papers off one of them. "Have a seat. Can I get either of you some coffee? Water?"
We both shook our heads.
"Okay, let's get down to business then." Ray leaned back in his chair. "First, there's the matter of that text you sent to Vivian."
"What text?" Keanu asked.
Detective Ray cleared his throat and read from a sheet of paper in front of him. "'Tell Poncho that the jerk said the coffee's not hot enough. Have a new carafe ready to go when I get back. It's a wonder no one has killed this guy yet.'"
Keanu sucked in a breath while I gripped the arms of my chair. "I didn't kill him, Detective. What would have been my motive?"
Detective Ray tapped a pencil laced with teeth marks on the desk in front of him. "Maybe the blog comments he left about your boyfriend's café, which also happens to be your place of employment? Such a post could prove to be detrimental for their future business and your career."
"This is crazy," Keanu growled. "Carrie had nothing to do with Randolph's death, and neither did my parents. She already told you someone else had been in the room with Cremshaw."
"The mimosa glasses," I put in. "Were they checked for fingerprints?"
Detective Ray shook his head. "We found one glass, and only Mr. Cremshaw's fingerprints were on it."
"That means the person who killed Randolph took the glass when they left so they wouldn't incriminate themselves." I was thinking out loud again, another bad habit of mine.
Detective Ray deftly raised one eyebrow. "I guess I'd better watch my back. Looks like you're gunning for my job, Carrie."
Keanu frowned. "Are there cameras in the hallways at the resort?"
"Nope. Only by the elevators, and we already checked the footage." Detective Ray scratched his head. "Mr. Cremshaw's room was located directly next to the stairwell. Whoever did this chose the stairs as their exit route and managed to avoid the camera in the process."
I snapped my fingers. "What if they poisoned the mimosas? Have the drinks been tested yet?"
Detective Ray pressed his lips together tightly. "Miss Jorgenson, if you don't mind, I'll do the questioning. I'm the law, not you."
No need to be rude, Detective.
Ray sighed, almost as if he'd heard me. "The toxicology tests on Mr. Cremshaw haven't come back yet, but we're pretty certain we know how he died."
"Which was?" I prompted.
He
stared at me thoughtfully. "It seems that the coffee you served Mr. Cremshaw held something a bit more powerful than just cream and sugar. We found cyanide in it."
"So Dr. Yoshida's assumption was correct." An uneasy feeling swept over me. Whoever had been in that room with Randolph had slipped the poison into his coffee, I was certain. But how could I prove that it hadn't been me?
"Detective, I didn't do this. Was there cyanide found in the carafe as well?"
Detective Ray shook his head. "Only in the cup he'd been drinking out of. Miss Jorgenson, I'm afraid that I have to insist you don't leave town until we have further details regarding this case."
Keanu's face reddened. "Ray, how could you possibly think that Carrie is involved? She was the one who discovered Hale's killer a few months ago."
Detective Ray gave him a small sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, but she had opportunity, and she had motive. What happened in the past doesn't count." He cut his eyes to me. "Don't worry. There isn't enough evidence to arrest you—yet."
What a cheerful thought. How could I prove to Ray that I was not involved with this fiasco? I racked my brain for something else to say and thought about the method of death again. "Detective, where could a person buy cyanide? I'm speaking figuratively, of course."
Ray shifted in his seat. "I don't know all the possibilities, but there's a chance it can even be bought online. At least it used to be possible. We're currently checking into some different theories."
I would have loved to know what he meant, but it was pointless to ask. Detective Ray was not about to take Keanu and me into his confidence, especially since he considered us suspects.
"Mr. Cremshaw must have made quite a few enemies," I said. "He didn't have a very likeable nature. All you have to do is look at his Twitter or Facebook accounts. He was always nitpicking about something or ready to start a fight."
My observation drew a smile from Ray. "You've been doing homework on Mr. Cremshaw, I see."
Eagerly, I leaned forward in my seat. "Does his wife know about his death?"
Detective Ray gave me a disbelieving look and shut his notebook, as if suddenly afraid I'd see what was inside. "I'm sorry, Carrie, but I can't tell you anything."
Jeez, I'm only trying to help. "All right, what else do you need to know?"
Footsteps could be heard in the hallway, and someone cleared their throat behind us. I turned around. The young man who had previously been stationed behind the receptionist counter was standing in the doorway. "Sorry, Boss, but can I see you for a second?"
Detective Ray nodded and eased himself out of his seat. "Excuse me for a minute, kids. Be right back."
As soon as he left the room, I rose from my chair and walked around behind his desk. I wasted no time in flipping through his notepad.
"What do you think you're doing?" Keanu hissed.
I put a finger to my lips. "Keep an eye out for him."
"Carrie!" he whispered. "If Ray finds you snooping through his things, it's only going to make matters worse."
"Well then, you'd better make a great lookout, mister," I retorted.
Keanu stared at me for a moment, mouth open in amazement, then flashed his dimple. He shook his head and went to stand in the doorway. Keanu poked his head out around the corner and tried his best to act nonchalant by placing his hands inside his jeans pockets and whistling. Ugh. I had my work cut out trying to teach my boyfriend the basic art of snooping.
Too bad Ray hadn't become an artist. Some of his doodles really had potential. I stared down in fascination at the words Carrie and cyanide intertwined around what looked to be a coffee cup design. How nice. I flipped another page. "Ah. Here we go."
Keanu looked over in my direction. "What is it?"
I pulled out my phone and took a picture of the page. "B Davenport, Monday at 10:00 am. Room 707. Does that mean she's at Aloha Lagoon? Could they be meeting there instead?"
"I think that's doubtful, especially with all the reporters that have been hovering around the place like vultures since Cremshaw's death." Keanu glanced out in the hallway again and then started toward me. "He's coming!"
Before I could even react, he pulled me around to the front of Ray's desk and started to kiss me passionately.
"Ahem," Detective Ray said in an irritated voice. "I hate to interrupt you lovebirds, but this is my office."
We broke apart, breathless, and Keanu grinned sheepishly at the man. "Sorry, Detective. We got carried away in the moment. You know what it's like."
Well played, Watson. There might be hope for him after all.
Detective Ray cocked a finely arched eyebrow at both of us then reached onto the desk for his notepad, which I had remembered to close, thank goodness. "That's all for tonight. It's late. Go home. But I'll be seeing you both soon."
"That was close," Keanu murmured as we left the building. "Good thing I can think fast on my feet, huh?"
"You were magnificent." I leaned my head wearily against his shoulder, and his strong arm went around my waist to support me as we walked across the street to the coffeehouse. "How do you feel about the dynamic duo teaming up to find another killer?"
His eyes sparkled in the semidarkness around us. "What did you have in mind?"
"Detective Ray is looking at your parents and me as possible suspects in Randolph's murder. Maybe you as well, so what other choice do we have? The sooner we know who did this, the sooner the restaurant can get back to normal." Not to mention our lives. "Vivian read that Randolph and his wife were having problems. What if we found Belinda and questioned her before Ray does tomorrow?"
He stroked his chin thoughtfully, where his normal five o'clock shadow had turned into a wild midnight stubble that I found quite sexy. "Don't you have a show tomorrow?"
"A matinee, but I don't have to be at the theater until noon. We could go to the Aloha Lagoon about nine o'clock and try to find out if she's staying there. Then we could track her down before she leaves to meet with Ray."
We took our seats in a bright red booth, and the server handed us menus. I studied mine without really seeing it. "So are you game?"
Keanu glanced at me in amusement. "There's never a dull moment with you. Sure, I'm game. But there are several other hotels on the island that have floors which go up to seven, so she might be staying there as well. I know almost all of the Aloha Lagoon receptionists, so we'll ask around in the morning and see if someone's willing to help us out."
I took a healthy sip from my water glass. "Are you working tomorrow?"
He nodded. "I was supposed to be off but told Dad I'd come in for a few hours. Poncho will open, so I'll go over after we get done with our sleuthing. Seems like I work every day lately." He blew out a long, ragged breath and glanced up at me. "I'm not sure that I'm ready for all my parents have planned for me."
I reached across the table and covered his hand with mine. "Maybe you should talk to your father. Tell him how you feel."
Keanu made a face. "As you know, my father isn't a very good listener. But it's worth a shot. He'll be at the restaurant tomorrow afternoon, so maybe I'll try then." He snapped his fingers suddenly. "Hey, I know."
"What?" My appetite was back, and I couldn't decide if I wanted pancakes or a gooey grilled cheese sandwich.
His mouth turned upward into a teasing smile. "Maybe you should join me and Dad tomorrow."
I wrinkled my nose. "Right. Why would I do that?"
Keanu winked. "You could jump out of the closet and surprise him while we're busy discussing how he's going to run my life."
"For some reason, I think that's been done already," I remarked.
CHAPTER NINE
"What does Belinda look like? Do you have a picture of her handy?" Keanu asked as he held the front door of the lobby open for me.
It was shortly after nine o'clock on Sunday morning, but the Aloha Lagoon Resort's main lobby was already bustling with activity. I'd been inside the resort several times for various reasons in the past few months, but its
immaculate condition and elegance never failed to impress me.
The entire hotel with its various shops and the restaurants—the Loco Moco and Starlight by the Lagoon respectively—was the size of a small town itself. There was a line of people who seemed mildly depressed standing in front of the reception area, and I surmised their time in paradise was up. Others were disheveled and weary looking, perhaps ready to begin their vacation after a long, tedious flight.
One of the best things about living in this beautiful state was that I didn't ever have to leave and wasn't even contemplating such a thing. I had no desire to return to Vermont and had already accepted the fact that I would probably never see my mother and sister again.
Area throw rugs in muted colors covered the polished tile floors while people relaxed on brightly colored fabric couches for taxis to the airport or buses to various excursions. The floor was so clean and spotless that it shone in the morning sunlight. Two bellmen were busy at another desk, organizing luggage to take to vacationers' rooms.
I studied the text that Vivian had sent me a little while ago and showed the picture to Keanu. "This is Randolph's wife, Belinda Davenport."
Keanu's eyes widened as he stared at the voluptuous looking blonde in a barely there bikini. I quickly moved the phone away, and he grinned. "She's beautiful, but I know someone who's got her beat."
My ego now appeased, I placed the phone back in the pocket of my shorts. "Okay, you're forgiven."
"She's a model, right? What would she want with him?"
"He was worth a lot of money," I said.
"It can't be as much as she made," Keanu protested. "Food critics make a decent living, but they're not rich. Plus, he wasn't exactly in Anthony Bourdain's caliber. There had to be something else."
"Well, Viv sent me some other information too." How I loved that girl. She was a celebrity groupie who was always fascinated by the lives that they led. Her apartment was chock full of copies of People and the National Enquirer. "Apparently Belinda hasn't had any modeling gigs in a couple of years. Not sure what that's about. Maybe her age? Randolph inherited a small fortune when his father died last year. His mother passed away right before his father, leaving Randolph as the sole benefactor. Viv said his brother and parents didn't get along. The will still hasn't gone through probate, and Randolph's brother is contesting it."
Aloha Lagoon Mysteries Boxed Set Volume III (Books 7-9) Page 47