The lid popped open and she was grabbed by her ankles. With her legs hanging over the edge of the trunk, she was forced into a sitting position. A second later, she was hauled to her feet.
Again, her captor made her walk, this time over uneven ground covered with roots and leaves. Around her, the dense tropical jungle gave off a rotting smell where wild mangos and liliko’i fell, left to ferment on the ground. She was pushed down onto the wet, muddy earth.
Her captor sawed at the tape around Em’s wrists and stopped just short of completing the job. Em was given a final shove and then there were sounds of receding footsteps. Em struggled to pull the tape apart. It was loose, but holding.
The footsteps were a ways behind her just before she heard the car door slam. The engine started up again. The Honda—she was sure it was Sophie’s car—turned around a few yards ahead of Em and then passed her without stopping on its way back. She lay there for a few seconds, waiting for the next shoe to fall.
She soon recognized the high-pitched chirp of a cardinal. A rooster crowed nearby. Another answered from a short distance away. She heard the surf pounding against the shore. Beneath her, the ground was spongy and damp. Full of insects. A centipede bite would pack a hell of a wallop—but that was the least of her worries now.
On the verge of hysteria, Em forced herself to calm down.
After everything, she was still alive. If she survived she would create a cocktail to commemorate her ordeal.
Something green—the color of the jungle. Crème de menthe. A little coconut syrup. Some vodka. Lots of vodka.
She rolled to her knees, tugged on the loosened tape at her wrists. Finally it gave way and she fought the tape at her mouth. Then she yanked it away from her eyes with a cry and discovered she was somewhere near the end of the highway on an unpaved, overgrown side trail surrounded by huge trees and dense undergrowth. She struggled along the rocky dirt trail just wide enough for a car, walking slowly toward the highway.
Jungle Juice. If she lived to see another day, she was going to mix up a batch of Em’s Jungle Juice inspired by her miraculous escape from the jungles of Kauai.
32
Sophie’s Regret
After the Maidens’ emergency meeting, Sophie caught a ride back to the Jungalow with Trish in the photographer’s pink and white VW bus.
“I’m going to change and then I’ve got to hustle up to a wedding reception at the Princeville St. Regis,” Trish said.
Sophie gazed out the window, watched the dense green foliage flash by.
“You’ve had a lot of work lately. Do you ever get tired of it?” Sophie found it was easier to ask questions than answer them.
“I love it. I mean, I go to parties and receptions and weddings and take pictures and people pay me. Some folks have to work real jobs.” Trish slowed for a van full of tourists ahead of them. “Bobble heads.” She laughed. “Can’t blame them for looking around. It’s not every day you see fantastic scenery like this. Besides, they’re our bread and butter.”
“Yeah.” Bobble heads. Sophie liked that.
Trish turned on the tape player. The mellow sounds of Carole King’s “Tapestry” filled the bus.
Sophie wished she’d told Sharpe someone had hit Em on the head sooner. It was a crucial piece of the puzzle. Holding out this long only cast more suspicion on her. Dumb move, Sophie.
At least she’d tossed Em’s husband’s name into the calabash of suspects. She should have thought of that sooner. Even if Phillip Johnson was still in Newport Beach, he had been harassing Em for at least a month now. Em’s cell phone records would prove it. Em had tried to brush off how upset she was after talking to him, but surely someone else must have noticed. Maybe Louie.
Trish seemed content to sing along with Carole at the top of her lungs. Sophie rested her elbow on the edge of the open window, leaned her head on her palm thinking about the bone in Louie’s office. Seeing it had been a real shock. If Louie knew anything about it, he was one heck of an actor. Maybe that’s where Em had found it in the first place. Maybe Louie had hidden it in the drawer himself. Sophie wished Em had confided in her. Things might have played out a lot differently if she had.
Trish flipped on her turn signal as they neared her place. If you didn’t know the driveway was there, it was easy to miss. She said as long as her friends knew where to find her, no one else needed to know where she lived. Huge red hibiscus bushes framed both sides, camouflaging an old newspaper box with the address on it.
The house was late 80’s Haena style, sky blue and built on pilings twelve feet high to comply with the planning department’s tsunami codes. A matchbox on stilts. Trish had enclosed the open area beneath the house, turned it into a one-room studio decorated with island motif cast offs. She named it the Jungalow and only rented to friends of friends.
Nobody had to tell Sophie how lucky she was to have landed an affordable room on the North Shore. She wondered how much longer she’d be able to stay.
Trish turned onto the ground coral drive, parked the VW bus, grabbed her camera equipment.
“Hey, where’s your car?” Trish pointed at the empty space on the drive.
“It’s gone.” Sophie stared at the empty parking space while Trish started digging in her purse for her cell phone.
“Do you know where it is? Did someone come get it to repair it? If not, we’ve got to call the police right away,” Trish said.
“I have no idea where it went. We should look in the house though, make sure everything’s okay before we call the cops.” The last thing Sophie wanted was to be on Sharpe’s radar right now. “Maybe someone borrowed the car and left a note inside.” She reached for the door handle.
Trish grabbed her arm. “What if somebody is still in there? We’re not going in without a cop. Besides, almost everyone you know was at the meeting this morning. Who would have taken it?”
“Do you really think someone stole the car and left an accomplice in the house to wait for us?”
Trish finally found her phone but paused before dialing. She looked at Sophie. “I thought you said the car wouldn’t start.”
“It wouldn’t. I hitch hiked to the Goddess.”
“Then where is it?”
“I have no idea.” Sophie said. “But whoever has it probably won’t get very far.”
33
Em Holds Court
Em was propped up in her hospital bed. Kiki, Flora and Suzi had just come barging through the door of Em’s room—which was half the size of her closet on the mainland.
Tears unexpectedly filled her eyes. Em told herself she was feeling emotional because of the trauma she’d suffered. Surely it wasn’t the sight of the three older women bearing armloads of flowers that started her crying the minute they rushed to her bedside. They wore their concern as openly as they wore fake flowers in their hair.
Kiki was flushed. Flora was without her Gatorade bottle. Tears were streaming down Suzi’s moon shaped cheeks. The Realtor immediately went to work filling all the available containers in the room, including the bedpan, with water. Best of all, Kiki was toting a MacDonald’s Happy Meal. The smell of greasy fries permeated the room instantly.
“Here,” Kiki said, shoving a box festooned with Ronald MacDonald at Em. “The food in here sucks. I should know. I was here for my second thigh tuck.”
“Second?” Flora stared at Kiki. “Did you do one leg at a time?”
“No. Both legs twice.” Kiki tapped her temple. “Think, Flora. Think about it.”
The tray on Em’s bedside table was full of empty chocolate pudding cups. It was the only palatable food in the place.
“Hey, hel-lo. I’m starving.” Em waved, reminding them she was still there.
Suzi festooned the room with flowers and then stood at the foot of the bed. Flora shoved the empty pudding containers aside and started rooting through the Happy Meal box. She pulled out the hamburger and then the fries and set them on the tray.
“Mind if I keep this?�
�� She held up a miniature plastic Shrek.
“Please do.” Em was alive and feeling generous. “Sure.”
“Da shake,” Flora held out her hand.
Kiki had forgotten she was holding a second Golden Arches sack. She handed the bag to Flora. Em’s mouth watered the minute Flora slipped the chocolate shake out of the bag, impaled a straw in it and set it beside the food on the tray.
“There you go,” Flora said. “Chow down.”
“We thought you were dead.” Suzi sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“I didn’t,” Kiki said. “I knew she was all right.”
“Thanks, Kiki,” Em popped a couple of the greasy, skinny fries in her mouth. Pure joy. She smiled. “How did you get here, anyway?”
A police officer stationed outside the door was there to keep Em secluded until Detective Sharpe showed up. Apparently Roland wanted to talk to her before anyone else. The police hadn’t counted on the Maidens.
“Same way we found out you was here,” Flora said. “My ex-sister-in-law, Bunny, has a cousin with an uncle on the KPD. He heard it on the scanner and it got around on the coconut wireless. She called me on my cell and…”
Kiki picked up the thread. “We were in Walmart next door. We carpool in once a week to save gas—”
“And money,” Suzi added. “We can only fit so much stuff in the car when there are three of us together. What with Flora’s ass taking up the whole back seat, we can’t buy that much.”
Kiki shushed her so she could go on. “When we heard the news we started screaming and jumping up and down. Nearly gave the Walmart greeter a coronary. We left our carts full of stuff and were running for the exit when Suzi suggested we get you some grinds. So we got your Happy Meal and the flowers.”
Em unwrapped the burger. Savored the smell. No matter what happened in life, no matter where you ended up in the world, a Mac hamburger and fries always smelled like a Mac hamburger and fries; comfort food in a sack.
“We didn’t know what to expect,” Kiki said. “Whether or not you were even conscious. We called the other girls. They’ll be here as soon as they can.”
Suzi finally smiled. “We thought we’d dance for you. Cheer you up.”
Sooner than later Big Estelle would hobble in on her crutches and Little Estelle would roll in on the Gad-About. Trish would be snapping photos. Em tried to picture all of them wedged into the room and wondered if Sophie would dare to show up acting innocent as always.
Then what? She desperately needed to talk to Roland.
“Is Sophie coming?” Em tried to hide her anxiety.
“We don’t know if she’s coming or not. Her car broke down,” Kiki said.
Em stared at her hamburger.
“I think we should dance Aloha Kauai,” Suzi suggested.
“Dumb idea. What does that have to do with being in the hospital?” Flora groused.
“What do you suggest?” Suzi shot back.
“A song about flowers. You bring sick people flowers—”
“Hey, I’m not sick,” Em reminded them around a mouthful of fries. “I was kidnapped.”
They ignored her. She sucked on the shake to wash down the heavenly grease.
“I don’t have any flower songs recorded.” Kiki produced a new iPod and a small speaker set from her huge black leather purse. She was setting it up on the bedside table when the uniformed officer knocked on the door and stuck his head into the room.
“Detective Sharpe is on the way up. You folks gotta go.”
“Uh oh,” Flora quickly reached for Em’s tray.
Em clamped onto it. “Hey, Sharpe’s not a doctor. Leave my Happy Meal alone.”
Kiki grabbed her iPod set up. “Let’s go girls. We’ll make a surprise appearance at the Long Term Care Ward and sneak back in here later.”
“Yeah,” Flora agreed. “They love us there. Nobody ever walks out.”
Suzi sighed. “Most of them are strapped into their chairs.”
Kiki kissed Em on the cheek and headed for the door. Suzi and Flora hustled after her.
To Em, it seemed the door had just closed behind them when her uncle walked in trailed by Roland Sharpe. Poor Louie looked as if he’d aged overnight. He rushed to her bedside, took her hand, looked her over with tears in his eyes.
“Are you all right?”
She tried to smile but even that hurt. The skin around her mouth and lips was raw and red from duct tape. There were abrasions on her wrists and ankles.
“I’m fine.” She had no way to explain that it was her heart that had been battered again.
“I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you, kid.”
“Thanks, Uncle Louie, but you were getting along fine before I got here.”
“Was I?” His forehead crinkled. “No one else thought so. Except Marlene, but the girls don’t like her very much.”
Roland walked over to stand beside Louie. He stared at Em assessing her condition as carefully as he might read a map. Em wished she’d asked Kiki for a hairbrush.
“Thanks for bringing Louie,” she said softly.
“I was heading back from Hanalei when the call came in that you were at emergency. It was on the way to stop and pick him up. I had a few questions for him anyway, but he was pretty upset about you. Thought I’d wait until he could see you for himself. I hope you can help, if you’re up to it.”
“Do we need a lawyer?”
“Not if he’s innocent.”
She looked at Louie and then tuned her gaze back to Roland. “What’s this about?”
“About the femur I found in the file drawer at the bar,” Sharpe said.
“Oh. That.”
“Yeah. That.”
“How’d you find it?” She wondered who had been snooping through the drawers.
“The professor came into the Goddess and told me all about it.” Roland turned to Louie. “You were coming back from Harold’s house when I drove up today. Why were you over there again?”
Louie slowly pulled a folded piece of notebook paper out of his pocket and handed it to Roland. The detective read it without comment and handed it to Em.
IOU $1500 dollar. Need for one telebision set.
It was signed by Harold Otanami and dated two months ago.
“I was looking for the money,” Louie said. “I was looking for it the day I went over and Sophie came after me. I knew Em would be upset if she found out I’d loaned Harold fifteen hundred dollars. He said he was going to pay me back within a week but he didn’t. The morning that he told me he finally had the money, he ended up dead. I hated to think my money burned up with him.” Louie stared at the floor tiles and shook his head.
“I thought you two didn’t get along. Why would you loan him money?” Roland asked what Em was wondering.
“Irene would have wanted me to.” Louie shrugged. “I loan a lot of people money. Not so much now that Em’s here, though, because she goes crazy when the nightly receipts and the cash drawer balance don’t match up. But people fall on hard times, you know? They usually pay me back.”
“Usually?” she said.
“Do you keep any record of these loans?” Roland wanted to know.
Louie reached into the baggy pockets of his baggy linen pants and pulled out a handful of creased, folded papers. He handed them to Roland who glanced at them and handed them to Em.
IOU $300. I need for light bill. Charlie D.
IOU $50 I need gas. Buzzy
IOU $150. Get one car insireance. Flora
Em sighed. Uncle Louie was using the Goddess cash drawer to bankroll the community.
Roland shook his head. “You charge these folks interest, Louie?”
“That wouldn’t be right. People are working two and three jobs now just to make ends meet. Paradise doesn’t come cheap.” Louie held out his hand for the receipts. Em sighed again and handed them back.
“You should have told us what you were after at Harold’s a long time ago. W
hat makes you think the money is in the house and not his bank account? If you had given this to Leilani, I’m sure she’d have covered it,” Roland told him.
Louie shrugged. “Harold had a little gambling problem. Besides, I was afraid if I told Em about the loans, she might get upset and go back to the mainland.”
“I’m not going anywhere anytime soon,” she assured him. At least now she knew why Louie was always broke; he wasn’t inept, he was too generous.
“Now that you’ve seen that your niece is okay, would you mind leaving us alone, Mr. Marshall?” Roland asked. “I’ve got a few questions for her before she’s released.”
“Kiki, Suzi and Flora are entertaining at the long term care ward.” Em said. “Maybe you can find them.”
“What would I want with them? I see those nuts all the time. I’ll wait down the hall where there are real pretty nurses at the nurses’ station.” He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and was about to leave the room when Roland stopped him.
“Mr. Marshall?”
“Call me Louie. Everybody does.”
“Louie, when I was looking for you earlier, your door was wide open so I went inside. I hate to give you bad news, but I think there’s something wrong with your parrot.”
“Something happened to David Letterman?”
Roland nodded. “I’m pretty sure he’s dead. He was lying on the bottom of his cage.”
Em bit her lips to keep from laughing. Louie dismissed the news with a wave.
“That’s nothing,” he assured Roland. “Just the usual hangover.”
Once her uncle was out of earshot, Em indicated the foot of her bed to the detective.
“You’re welcome to sit.”
Roland leaned against metal footboard instead with notebook in hand. “Okay. How about we start at the beginning?”
She polished off the last fry. The sugar rush from the chocolate was making her giddy.
“I was born in Pasadena in 19—.”
He cut her off. “Start with what happened at the memorial. When you were abducted.”
Mai Tai One On Page 18