This was all the analysis I could cope with prior to playing dress-up and make-believe that evening. I had a couple of hours before I needed to get ready for cocktails with Pearl, and even though I was tired, I was too agitated to sit around the apartment.
What could I accomplish in two hours? Before anything else, I should phone Margie and Dan O`Hara. I needed to let them know I would not be attending tonight’s cocktail party for some of the RIMPAC Naval exercise organizers and their friends. I hated to disappoint the O`Haras. I had delayed in calling them until the last minute in case I could go. As it was, I had neither the time nor the inclination to go to a celebratory party attended by military, political, and business powerhouses. My call to Margie’s cell phone immediately went to voice mail, so I was not able to set up contingency plans for seeing them while they were in Honolulu.
Now what? I could go online and work on the research that had brought Keoni into the forefront of my schedule on the night before Ariel’s demise. Or I could recolor my nails, or… No, the logical thing would be to do a load of laundry. I quickly assembled a basket of delicates and went to the kitchen for laundry soap and some quarters from my emergency cash box. In a few minutes, I was ready for today’s interpretation of R & R. As I held the door open with my foot to pick up the laundry basket, I saw a flash of fur fly past my ankles. Good Lord, no!
“Get back here,” I cried dropping my laundry basket and closing the door. Rushing down the walkway, I caught sight of Miss Una’s tail joining the rest of her body in a dash for freedom down the stairs. Considering the shortness of her legs, it was amazing to see how fast that half-grown cat could fly when motivated.
Running to catch up with her, I changed verbal tactics. “Oh, Una, sweet Miss Una. Natalie has a treat for you.” I was already out of breath, but determined to sound calm and soothing. “Wouldn’t you like to have a little dried chicken? Mmm, it’s awfully nice…”
As I rushed around the last turn in the stairway, I glimpsed Miss Una charging toward the back of the property. It was clear I would not be able to match her speed, and there were any number of places she could hide. I slowed my pace to catch my breath and looked around the courtyard. Even from a distance, I could see the door to the laundry room in my building was closed. That was one less place to consider as a feline hideaway.
Glancing across at Building A’s ground floor apartments, I noticed a couple of open doors. As they had screens, I did not think she would be able to get into them. If she had dashed inside, their occupants would be clamoring. I crossed the courtyard and began walking along the pathway between the left side of the volleyball net and Building A. I looked toward the picnic area and the tree line at the back of the property, but saw no sign of a retreating tail. As I approached the end of the walkway, I debated the choices that might appeal to my four-legged roommate.
At that moment, I noticed the last screen door jiggling ever so slightly. Too bad it was the entrance to Al Cooper’s apartment. I had seen him pulling out of the parking lot when Keoni and I drove in a short while ago. Not knowing Al’s intentions, I did not want to confront him with either my cat or my suspicions. Quietly, I approached the door hesitantly, looking around to see if anyone was watching me.
I knew I should not go any farther. In fact, if I were a cop, I would be prohibited from doing anything at all. But I am not an officer of the law or the courts. I am merely a tenant looking for her cat. “The screen was open, sir.” I could say to a police officer. “I thought I saw her tail sweeping from view around the edge of the door.” Hmm, what next? “The screen was already open, I thought if I peeked in, I could call her and she’d come running back to me.”
Accordingly, I called out, “Miss Una, are you in there?” Again I looked around and upward to the walkways and higher apartments. There was no sign of humans or their animal companions. I did not want to leave any indication that I had been there, so I reached into my pocket for the hanky I always keep handy. It had been one of my mother’s the last gifts to me. It had served me well in many situations over the years—although never on what an unkind official might label an exercise in Breaking and Entering.
Regardless of what I might learn from another afternoon of detecting, I would eventually have to let Keoni in on my activities. At least the door was open. I would not be charged with breaking into the property. Of course, a charge of “illegal entry” remained a possibility. I could honestly say I was hoping to prevent Miss Una from bothering Al Cooper—since he had expressed concern initially about her being a nuisance. After one last glance around me, I gingerly pulled the screen’s handle outward and looked into the living room. No sign of Miss Una, but there was no telling where she might have run to find cover.
To latch or not to latch, that was the question of the moment. If I left the screen door open, I could say that was how I had found it; but if I left it open, the cat might sneak out again and resume her flight around the complex. One thing was certain: I could not afford for this adventure to last much longer. And if I did not find Miss Una soon, I would be late to cocktails with Pearl, and that would not do at all. Of course, the primary question of the moment was how long it would be until Al returned. The single positive aspect of my current situation was that I had seen the man depart in Pearl Wong’s truck. That probably meant he was off doing her errands, which could take a long time. Or not.
Hmm. My reason for being here is Miss Una. If I did not find her, I would have lost the excuse for my presence. And if Al returned to find her in his apartment, I could not predict what he would surmise by her presence. It certainly would not be good. Considering his temper, there was no telling what he might do to her, or me. After a few seconds, I made my decision. I softly pulled the screen to the door jam, without latching it.
I decided that I would take a quick look around while I was inside the apartment. From what friends in law enforcement have said—and from what I have seen on detective shows—the first thing to do is get a general sense of the layout. Therefore, I began by walking through the living room. It was the mirror image of my own. The unit was sparsely furnished and neat, though a bit dusty. Maybe Al should trade places with Pearl’s nephew Richard Bishop in the rotation of apartments. This one did not look like it had seen the lick of a paint brush in the years Al had lived here.
Since the doors to each room stood open, there would be no short-cuts in my hunt for little Miss Una. First I checked the guest bathroom and finding it empty, closed the door. If I did that with every space, there was no way she could sneak behind me—but I would have to remember to re-open the rooms before leaving. My memory is never very good when I get rattled, so I was grateful Al had been consistent in leaving every door open. Next, I walked into the guest bedroom and pulled the door almost closed. No sign of her under the bed, and fortunately, there was nothing but a couple of suitcases and an old overcoat hanging in the closet.
I pulled the door to that bedroom closed behind me and walked back into the living room. After checking under the couch, I walked through to the kitchen that smelled of burnt toast. With no open cupboards, my search in that space was quickly completed. Returning to the living room, I tiptoed up to the front door and looked out. There was no sign of anyone in the courtyard or across on Building B’s walkways. That was a very good thing, as Martha Stewart famously says.
I was glad that the apartments are small. Only the master bedroom remained to be checked. I walked into the room, again pulling the door close to the jam, but not closing it completely. As usual, I was not wearing my watch, so even with Al’s bedside clock radio, I could not be sure how long I had been in his apartment. I moved into the adjoining bathroom that smelled of cheap cologne and toothpaste. Brushing the shower curtain aside, I quickly determined there was no cat. Creeping back into the bedroom, I carefully bent down and lifted the bedspread that, conveniently for a cat, dragged on the floor. Again, there were no obstructions and the clear view veri
fied that my little darling was not there.
Straightening up, I looked across the room. There was a well-used oak dresser, but all the drawers were closed. There were nightstands that matched the dresser, but they were too close to the wall for Miss Una to have hidden behind. That left the desk and closet. The chair at the desk was positioned awkwardly, leaving a bit of space in the kneehole at the center. I walked softly up to it and wiggled the chair a bit. Looking down, I verified there were only four chair legs in that space.
Glancing across the top of the desk, I found a large and worn Bible lying open. Leaning over, I saw that a brass bookmark highlighted a passage in Romans, Chapter One, Verses Twenty-six and Twenty-seven. Underscored were the words, “for even their women did change the natural use into that which is against nature.” Beside the Bible was a lined notepad. In one column were citations from the Old Testament and printed in bold block letters in a second column were the words evil women, vile affections, lasciviousness and depravity. I cringed as I read a final, single sentence that said it all, “So, that was why she had to die!”
Obviously, Al had been doing his homework. But it appeared superficial. I am not that great on biblical chapter and verse. However, the major themes had been covered in my courses in history and classic literature and it looked like a key point was missing from Al’s research. Clearly, the man had overlooked St. Paul’s declaration that homosexuality was not a behavior chosen to offend God, but a punishment thrust by God upon sinners who practiced idolatry. Setting that issue aside, Al had found biblical support for his belief that Ariel had not deserved to live. The overriding question remained whether Al had acted upon his judgment of her. Of course, I was still trying to figure out why he had concluded she was gay in the first place.
While my mind tried to absorb all this, the phone on the desk rang loudly and I jumped close to the ceiling fan that was rotating at a slow speed. At least I had the presence of mind to clamp my hand across my mouth to stifle the scream that was about to emerge from my throat. Although my discovery made me wonder if there might be any evidence lying around Al’s apartment—like an earring and a cell phone—I knew I had to get out of the place quickly.
My reason for being on the premises was Miss Una, and there was only one other place to check. I approached the closet softly and pulled the door knob toward me. Sure enough, in the back right-hand corner, draped over the recently polished toe of a black Johnston and Murphy dress shoe, was the extended paw of Miss Una. Without absorbing its possible significance, on the wall above her body, I noticed a rough rectangular patch—just like as it is in my closet.
“Gotcha,” I declared. Carefully closing the closet door to keep her contained, I walked back through the apartment and opened every door I had previously closed. Returning to the closet, I pulled the door toward me and reached down to pick up the culprit who had launched this leap into the land of Agatha Christie. Unfortunately, she was not where I had left her. While my eyes were adjusting to the dimness of the closet, Miss Una shot out like a heat-seeking missile. I flew after her into the living room, in time to see her bolt out the screen door into the bright sunlight.
Since she was on the loose again, I decided to take the time to check whether I had left Al’s apartment as I had found it. After a quick glance, I determined I was in the clear—at least if I could get back out the door without anyone noticing my departure. If someone saw me, there was no point in pretending I had been visiting with Al, because someone might mention it the next time they saw him. I needed to remain as invisible and silent as possible.
Pressing my nose to the screen, I looked across the courtyard and up at Building B. Luckily, I did not see anyone. Taking a breath, I pushed the door outward, and gave a quick look to the left and the right before slipping out of Al’s apartment. Again using Mother’s hanky, I re-positioned the screen.
Safely back in public territory, I looked around for a hint of where Miss Una might have disappeared. At the back of the property I heard someone giggling.
“I’m going to open my eyes in a minute, so you’d better have hidden really, really well.…”
With that lovely drawl, it was clear to whom that voice belonged. Ashley Lowell. She must be playing a game with her son Cory. Thank goodness I had been lucky and we had not bumped into each other as I was entering Al Cooper’s apartment.
Sure enough, below the fragrant plumeria trees, I saw a whirlwind of fallen flowers beside a large wheelbarrow that was turned on its side.
“One, two, three, here I come,” Ashley called out.
I watched their play for a moment while scanning the horizon for another small character, equally fleet of foot. I figured I should at least greet Ashley, while continuing my search of the grounds.
“Hi, Ashley,” I called out. “I see you’re looking for someone too. Maybe you could help me find Miss Una when you and Cory are through with your game.
Suddenly a small figure in shorts and suspenders, but no shirt, peeked out at me. “You mean the kitty? That’s Miss Una, right?”
I laughed and squatted down to his level. “Yes, Cory. Miss Una’s my kitten. She’s a lot smaller than you and she ran away today and I’m worried.”
“I’m sorry your kitty is gone, Miss Natalie,” said Cory throwing himself into my arms.
Ashley had her hand over her mouth, to cover a laugh that was clearly dying to escape. I stood up and after swinging Cory around, carried him to his mother.
“You look pretty comfortable with Cory on your hip. Am I right that you’ve had a couple of children of your own, Natalie?”
We moved toward the picnic tables. “No, Ashley. That wasn’t in the cards for me. But I’ve had plenty of practice with my brother’s son and granddaughters.”
“Uh, that’s right. Your husband passed when you were pretty young.”
“Yes. We were in our twenties and had only been married five years. I must confess I almost married a handsome stranger I met on assignment in the Middle East many years later.”
“So what happened, if you don’t mind my being personal?” Ashley queried.
“Not at all. Gary and I dated for several years, but I kept getting overseas assignments and he wanted to settle down. He was a great guy, but I just couldn’t give up my work.”
Cory started squirming, and I knew I needed to hurry things up.
On cue, Ashley said, “Cory and I would be delighted to help you look for Miss Una, Natalie. What does she look like?”
“Well, she has the usual whiskers and a very long tail for a kitten her size. She has a white patch across her nose and down the side of her face and splotches of brown, and gray and black all over her fur. That’s why she has the name Miss Una; Una is Hawaiian for tortoise and she is a tortoise shell kitty. Do you think that will help you tell her from all the other kitties we see running around, Cory?”
Cory looked rather serious as he stared up at me. “Oh, yes Miss Natalie, I’m sure I’ll know her. Come here, Miss Una,” he called out, looking around.
“If you really have time to help me, maybe we’d better spread out.”
Ashley nodded. “I’ll take the trees, in case she scooted past us.”
“And I’ll go look under the cars,” volunteered Cory.
I looked at Ashley. Before she could express her concern, I said, “Uh, Cory, why don’t we all stay together in the courtyard. You can look in the flower beds. Everything is so overgrown, if she’s hiding, you might get her to come out to play hide and seek with you.”
Ashley smiled appreciatively at me, and turned to scan the ground under the trees. “She’s pretty small, right? Do you think she could have climbed into the trees?”
“No, I don’t think she could climb any of these old trees. She’s still a kitten, so she isn’t very big. And since we live in a condo, I keep her claws closely trimmed.”
“With the chain link
fence at the back, she wouldn’t have gotten very far going this way,” offered Ashley.
Intent upon his task, Cory prowled around in the dead flower beds. “Come here, kitty, kitty. Would you like to play? I have a ball,” said Cory with his most enticing voice. It was probably the same tone his mother used to lure him from something he was not supposed to be doing.
Reaching into his right front pocket, he brought out a small red ball that looked like the companion to a set of jacks. Wondering if kids still played the game, I watched him throw the ball back and forth between his hands.
“Are you watching, Miss Una?” The boy tossed the ball toward the front of the property. It did not have much thrust, but after landing a short way from him, it continued rolling. When it reached the back edge of the fountain, I saw a brown fur-ball fly out of the weeds.
“Well done, Cory,” I exclaimed and went running after the cat. Calling back over my shoulder I said, “Thank you both for helping, I’d better catch her while I can.”
“Good luck,” answered Ashley.
Knowing she was being pursued, Miss Una flew past the ball that had come to a boring stop. Hanging a left at the volleyball net, she continued on to the stepping stones along Building B.
“Oh, please don’t go out in the parking lot,” I pleaded.
As though she understood the implications of imminent danger to her person, Miss Una dashed to the stairway. With barely a pause to look back at me, she began running up the stairs.
Watching her ascend to what was hopefully a safer environment, I slowed down. While climbing the stairs myself, I became aware of the toll the day was taking on my body, if not my mind. Reaching the top floor, I looked to the right toward apartment B406. There she was, sitting at the door, daintily washing her whiskers, as though she had just awakened from a nap in the sunshine.
Prospect for Murder (Natalie Seachrist Hawaiian Cozy Mystery 1) Page 20