“Then let’s find out where Peter and Glenna are instead.”
I went to a phone on an end table; it had an automatic-dial feature and the card on the handset listed several numbers. There was no answer at the Moris’, but Peter picked up at Pali House.
“Tanner and I are at your cottage,” I told him. “We located what I think is the missing camera and brought it to show to Glenna.”
“Russ is with you?” He lowered his voice.
“That’s right.”
A pause. It sounded as if he’d covered the mouthpiece. “You two might as well come up here. Bring the camera.”
I replaced the receiver. “He wants us there.”
“Both of us? That’s a surprise. I haven’t been allowed to set foot in Pali House for years.”
“Maybe now that Celia’s gone the ban’s been lifted. Anyway, he sounds stressed.”
“That whole goddamn family’s permanently stressed.” He hesitated. “Sharon, before we go, we ought to talk.”
“About what?”
“You and me.”
“This isn’t the time for that.”
“When is?”
“I don’t know. Maybe never.”
He moved closer, put his hand to my cheek, brushed back a strand of hair with his fingertip. I felt the heat of his body, the heat rising in mine.
He said, “We can’t ignore what’s happening here.”
Oh, Christ, he wasn’t going to let it go! And Hy wouldn’t, either. Why was I the only one of the three of us with any sense?
“Look, Sharon, maybe we could’ve willed it away if Hy hadn’t forced the issue. But he did, and now—” His hands grasped my shoulders, pulled me toward him.
“No!” I jerked free, stepped back. “We won’t do this, we won’t go there. If we talk about it, we may say things we can’t take back.” I spun around, heading for the door. “Come on. We’re expected at Pali House.”
“Stop—”
“No, you stop! I didn’t ask for this to happen. I have a life, I have a future planned. Don’t you interfere with that.”
For a few seconds he didn’t move or speak. Then he picked up the camera and followed me. As he shut the door behind us, he said softly, “I’m not the only one who’s interfering.”
Peter met us at the door of Pali House, looking haggard. When he saw Casey—Tanner had insisted on bringing her along—he seemed surprised but greeted her warmly.
Tanner said, “I’m sorry about your mother, Pete.”
“Thanks,” he replied, slapping him on the shoulder.
It occurred to me that the two of them seemed more like real brothers than Peter and Matthew did. Some kinship of spirit there, a curiosity about the world and what it had to offer, as well as a willingness to take risks. Compassion, too: Peter noticed that Casey looked uncomfortable and took her hand as he led us into the central patio. Good that he did, because the tension there was so thick it would have taken more than the proverbial knife to hack through it.
Stephanie and Ben sat side by side on a wicker sofa, stern and watchful. Looking out for business, I supposed. Glenna perched on a nearby hassock, surveying the scene as if she were about to start filming. I half expected her to raise her hands to her eyes and frame it. Matthew was pacing in jerky strides along a row of decorative aquamarine tiles set amid the terra-cotta. His brow was knitted in concentration, and he appeared to be having an intense conversation with himself. When we came out of the house he stopped and turned, hands balled into fists at his sides.
“Who the hell’s that?” He pointed to Casey.
Tanner touched her head in reassurance. “Relative of yours, Matt—my daughter, Sarah.”
This time Casey didn’t object to his use of her “too missionary” name. She did stand her ground, however, as Matthew scrutinized her rudely, looking him in the eye with a directness unusual in one of her age.
Russ added, “Guess you know her momma was Liza Santos.” There was a needling quality to his tone.
Matthew’s cheeks colored, and his eyes jerked to Russ. For a moment he glared at him, compressing his lips as if guarding against saying something he might later regret. Bad history there, I thought, watching Tanner return Matthew’s look with a level stare.
Matthew broke eye contact first. “Well, Russ,” he said, “this is an adult conference.”
Peter asked Casey, “How’d you like some ice cream or a soda?”
She looked to Tanner for direction and, when he nodded, said, “I would. Mahalo.” Peter told her the cook’s name and gave her directions to the kitchen. As she left the patio, she threw Matthew a parting glance that said she found this relative seriously weird.
Glenna cleared her throat. “Sharon? Is that the camera you recovered?”
I nodded, and Tanner took it to her. She examined it, checked the serial number. “Yes, it’s the one that was stolen. Where’d you find it?”
“I’d rather go into that later, if you don’t mind.”
“Whenever.”
At Peter and Stephanie’s urging we sat down—all except Matthew, who had resumed his pacing. Ben said, “We asked you here, Russ, because a situation’s come up, and you seem to be part of it.”
Tanner waited, looking only mildly interested.
“The situation concerns… Let me start at the beginning: Elson’s and Celia’s wills were in the safe here, and I delivered them to our attorney, Michael Blankenship, this morning. They were drawn up in the early eighties. Very similar to each other, except for specific bequests to charities, with the bulk of the estate going to the surviving spouse and to be divided among Stephanie, Peter, Matthew, and Drew at the time of that party’s death. A codicil to Celia’s, dated 1990, removed Drew as an heir.”
Tanner shifted in his chair. “Must’ve been hard for you to deal with such matters, in your grief.”
Ben flushed. “Look, Russ, if you’re going to start on me, you can wait to hear this from Michael!”
“Sorry. Go on.” Tanner glanced at me, his eyes glinting mischievously. I couldn’t blame him for baiting Ben.
“All right. Michael called me this afternoon. The situation is irregular: Celia’s property goes to Elson. But as we all know, Elson’s missing and by now could very conceivably be dead. Sharon’s probably told you that we’ve already set the machinery in motion for getting him declared legally dead.” He nodded at me. “But since the estate will be in limbo until we can do that, Michael wants to petition the court to have one of us declared conservator.”
“Ben, will you get to the point?”
“Dammit, Russ, stop interrupting! This is a complicated situation.” Ben looked around for help from the others, but none was forthcoming. Stephanie and Peter sat very still, their eyes on Tanner, and even Matthew had stopped pacing. Glenna perched expectantly on the edge of the hassock. Now I could feel their collective tension infecting me. Only Tanner seemed at ease.
Ben grimaced, began speaking again. “In the course of our conversation, Michael pointed out that the copy of Elson’s will that I delivered this morning is no longer in force. He has in his safe the original of a later will, drawn up in 1990. It differs from Celia’s in only one significant point: the estate is to be divided among Stephanie, Peter, Matthew”—he paused dramatically, pointed at Tanner—“and you. Certain provisions would make it extremely difficult for Celia—or for us, now—to challenge the bequest.”
Tanner nodded. “That’s correct.”
Ben’s eyes widened. Stephanie, Peter, and Glenna made astonished sounds. And Matthew, who had been standing several feet away, strode over to Russ. “You knew about this?” he demanded, his voice shaking with anger.
“Your father gave me a copy of the will after he made it.”
“For God’s sake, why?”
“I assume so I could protect my interests.”
“No, I mean why were you included at all?”
“He had his reasons. And they’re private.”
“G
oddamn it, all your life you’ve been sucking up to us—”
Peter said, “Matt, there’s no point in rehashing old resentments.” To Russ he added, “I can’t believe you’ve known about this since 1990 and never told any of us. Did my mother know?”
“She found out a couple of years later.”
“When she threw Father out of the house.”
Tanner nodded.
Ben said, “What I want to know, Russ, is what these so-called private reasons of Elson’s were. He’s dead, so you can tell us.”
“You know,” Russ said, “for somebody who’s only a relative by marriage, you seem awfully eager to get your hands on the Wellbright fortune.”
“Russ!” Stephanie exclaimed. “That’s not fair!”
I glanced at Peter; he was nodding slightly in agreement with Tanner.
“Sorry,” Tanner said easily. “I guess we’re all on edge. But in answer to Ben’s question, no, I can’t talk about Elson’s reasons. I will tell you one thing: I am not his illegitimate son.”
The silence that followed held both relief and surprise. Apparently they’d bought into the rumor.
Ben exclaimed, “This is outrageous! You owe us an explanation!”
“I owe you nothing.”
Matthew said, “Russ is right.”
Even Tanner stared at him. Then comprehension flooded his face and he smiled. “Good call, Matt.”
Matthew nodded weakly, said with an effort, “We’ll proceed as Father wished.”
Ben’s face twisted in rage, and he gripped the arm of the sofa till his knuckles went white. Stephanie closed her eyes and put her hand to her mouth, shaking her head. Peter and Glenna fixed analytical eyes on Matthew.
Tanner stood and extended his hand to me. “Sharon and I need to be going. Sarah’s tutu will be wondering where she’s gone to.”
I hesitated. Part of me wanted to question him about this turn of events, part of me wanted to get as far away from him as possible. Finally, without taking his hand, I stood. Said to Peter and Glenna, “I’ll see you later at Malihini House.”
I waited till we were walking along the gravel track to the house and Casey had run off toward the chopper. Then I said, “All right… what about this bequest from Elson?”
“You heard what I told them.”
“That’s it?”
“So far as it goes, that’s the truth.”
“And the rest of it?”
“Nobody’s business but Elson’s and mine.”
We turned off the driveway, onto the grass by the springs where the ginger plants emitted their fragrance. Tonight it seemed to hint at corruption and decay. I looked up at the lighted house, thought of Hy and the confrontation we’d have there.
It was as if I were being pulled at from all directions: by Glenna, by Peter, by the rest of the Wellbrights. By Hy. By Tanner. I didn’t want to continue with this investigation. I didn’t want to go up to that house and face my lover. I didn’t want to get on board that chopper again—not with this man, whose pull was strongest of all. I didn’t—
God, everything was in negatives!
I stopped walking. Just stood there, tired and confused.
Tanner kept going, noticed I wasn’t with him, came back, and put his arm around my shoulders. His touch only deepened my sense of being cut off from everything that was sane and familiar. I let him lead me away from the lawn, into a stand of palm trees. Offered no resistance when he leaned against the thick bole of one and pulled me close. Stood passively in his arms as he kissed me, feeling wretched beyond belief.
“I’m not good with words,” he said.
“You do all right.”
“I mean the kind of words that’d make you feel better about all this.”
“Words won’t help.”
“What will?”
“I don’t know. Nothing, probably. I’m just all of a sudden so damned tired.”
“Then let’s take you back to Waipuna so you can get that car. Something like this, it’s better if you sleep on it.”
Sleep on it? Next to Ripinsky? I don’t think so.
He released me and we started for the chopper, walking a couple of feet apart. A figure was coming down the hill from the house. Hy, carrying his travel bag.
Oh, God, now what? A call from RKI? A crisis situation in some far-off place?
He set the bag down next to the chopper and waited for us.
“What’s happenin’?” Tanner asked.
“I need you to run me to Lihue to catch a flight to Honolulu.”
His voice was level, even pleasant, but he wasn’t looking at me.
“Sure. Some problem?”
“Yeah. Let me talk to McCone for a minute, would you?”
“I’ll preflight.”
Hy took my arm, steered me uphill to the lanai.
“What’s the trouble?” I asked.
He looked down at me and, in the flickering light of the citronella candles, I saw his eyes were somber and pained. “You and me.”
“If that’s what’s making you leave, don’t go. We can talk—”
“I don’t think this is a good time.”
A replay of my earlier conversation with Tanner, but now I’d assumed his role. “Then when will there be a good time?”
“I don’t know. When you’re ready.”
“When I’m ready?”
He put his hand on my shoulder, held me at arm’s length, as if he was afraid his resolve might weaken if I came any closer. “Look, McCone, all three of us know exactly what’s going on here. He saw you and wanted you. The two of you connected. Rules of attraction. I could see it coming from the beginning.”
“So why didn’t you—”
“Stop it? I can’t tell you what to do. Can’t tell you what to feel.”
“I don’t know what I feel!”
“Exactly. That’s why I’m giving you the space to sort it out. You need to do that. But I don’t need to sit around here and watch you do it.”
I grabbed his arm, feeling as if he were threatening to cut a lifeline. “Where’ll you be?”
“Honolulu, for a day at least. I need to meet with our people there.”
“And then?”
He shrugged.
“How will I know where to find you?”
Gently he took my hand and removed my fingers from his arm. “I doubt we’re so far gone that you won’t be able to find me when you’re ready. You’ve always known how to do that.”
The night was warm and silent, except for the murmur of the surf. The scent of ginger drifted on the breeze. It made me want to throw up.
Finally I rose from the chair where I’d been sitting since Tanner’s chopper lifted off, went into the house, and fixed myself a gin and tonic that was mostly gin. Wandered back to the bedroom, turning on all the lights as I went.
The unmade bed confronted me. It bore the imprints of Hy’s body and mine, where we’d lain after making love that morning. It had been oddly unsatisfying; his mind seemed elsewhere, and mine had been unfocused. Well, at least I now knew what was bothering him.
I took off my T-shirt and shorts, pulled on the long black-and-gold cotton dress I’d worn to the Wellbright party a century ago. Its primary color suited my mood. Then I went back to the living room, sipping my drink and turning on more lights. They did nothing to brighten my outlook.
Hy and I had never owned an easy relationship. We weren’t like Rae and Ricky, who agreed so completely on the most minute details that it seemed spooky. Or Anne-Marie Altman and Hank Zahn, the attorneys who shared my suite of offices at Pier 24½. They believed in compromise—whether by negotiation or by flipping a coin. Hy and I disagreed frequently and fought spiritedly over our differences. If we’d flipped a coin to settle an argument, the loser would have made off with it and spent it.
We probably lived apart too much: I at my house in San Francisco, he at his ranch in Mono County, both of us often away on business. But we always came together at the pla
ce we loved most, the coastal cottage we’d named Touchstone. And while separated we felt an intuitive connectedness that to others might have seemed as spooky as Rae and Ricky’s complete agreement.
When I met Hy I’d felt that connection almost immediately. And from the day I was first with him, I’d never given a serious thought to any other man.
So what had changed that?
Maybe you’re having a midlife crisis, McCone.
I don’t believe in them.
You’re forty. As Ricky said in one of his songs, it’s an itchy age.
And what does Ricky know? He’s only thirty-seven!
I set my glass down on the breakfast bar, reaching for the gin bottle. If I was to spend the night holding inane conversations with myself, I might as well do it drunk. My eyes rested on a newspaper—the Sunday edition of the Garden Island—and a headline below the fold on page one. Quickly I slipped onto one of the stools and scanned it: “Body Found at Salt Pond Beach, Police Seek Leads to Identity.”
The article said that the shark-mangled body of a male had washed up at a county park beach early yesterday morning, and the remains had been flown to the forensics lab at the Honolulu Police Department so that the skull could be reconstructed and artist’s sketches made. Anyone with information as to the victim’s identity should contact the Kauai County Police Department.
I got up and rummaged through the drawer of the kitchen desk till I found a map. Salt Pond Beach was between Hanapepe and Waimea, on the south shore. From what I’d observed of the sea’s current, it seemed possible the man who’d been tossed in at the cane lands would have ended up there.
Out of kindness to Tommy Kaohi’s family, I knew I ought to go to the police in the morning and tell them what I’d witnessed. But how would I explain why I’d held off so long? As an investigator unlicensed in this state I’d be on pretty shaky ground, even with RKI’s sponsorship. Perhaps it would be better to make an anonymous call—
Voices outside. I went to the lanai, saw Glenna and Peter walking along the driveway. They seemed to be arguing, and when they saw me they fell silent. I waved and went back inside to freshen my drink. Hesitated, wondering if that was wise. Said, “The hell with it,” and freshened it liberally.
The two of them came into the house, and Peter joined me at the gin bottle. “Jesus, what a day!”
A Walk Through the Fire Page 13