“Could we go out to the elevators?” Corky asked.“That's probably the best place to start. Despite his lament, Norman Kurohara was actually proud of the Nikko Arms. Standing in front of the double elevators, he said, “The building has ten stories, actually eleven, if we count the parking lot below us. This floor is office space. The other floors are all condominiums. Some have been sold, and some rented.”
His voice turned gloomy. “Because of the fire, the second and third floors are vacant. There's no work going on there today, of course, since it's Saturday. Repairs resume on Monday. It's a dreadfully slow process. We have some vacancies on the other floors. I'm sure that's because of the fire, and here I was positive there'd be none by year's end.” Again he shook his head.
Corky surveyed the two elevators which were in a block at the end of the lobby. Kurohara seemed to pick up on her thoughts. “The hotel was built around a large center shaft which is the elevator well. These are the two passenger elevators. On the other side of the well,” he started around the block of elevators as he spoke, and Corky followed, “is the service elevator. We don't use it much now, but back when this was a hotel the workers would use it for all the cleaning equipment, laundry and that sort of thing. It's about the size of the other two elevators combined.”
“Can anyone use it?”
The manager shook his head and pointed to a keyhole in the door. Corky became immediately alert. “Who has a key?” Kurohara shrugged. “Several people do: the cleaning women; securityoh, yes, and the repair crew. I didn't want them going up and down in their dirty overalls in the regular passenger elevators, and they used it to haul up their equipment.”
“Sounds as though there weren't really any restrictions on who had keys.” Again, the manager shrugged. “There's no reason why there should be. This elevator's much slower than the others. I can't imagine anybody wanting to use it unless they had to.”
Unless they had to, Corky thought. Maybe someone had to this morning. *** On her return from interviewing Kurohara, Corky caught Hank as he was leaving his office, the projection room of the old, defunct movie theater which served as headquarters for the police department. They walked out of the building together. “I'm open to suggestions,” Corky said.
“ Get in early tomorrow,” Hank said and grinned when Corky groaned at the suggestion. He was well aware Corky was a night person who regarded morning as the time for sleeping, and not for getting up.
“Aw c'mon, Hank! Tomorrow's Sunday.” Hank ignored her protests. “I had Anton's apartment and office sealed. Check his apartment as soon as you can. I can catch his office on the way to the airport in the morning. Except for a part-time bookkeeper, it was just a one-man office, so I should be able to go through it in short order. See if you can run down whoever it was the Japanese couple was going to see. Hey! I almost forgot. Guess who's already representing Wayne Harlan?”
“Smith, Chu, Yoshinobu and Correa.”
“Right on target. I just talked to Qual. He says Harlan will be in before noon tomorrow to sign a statement, and there'll be one of the attorneys along with him.”
“Why are you making him come in on a Sunday?”
“It was his idea. I figured we might as well get him to go over all of it as soon as possible.”
“Do you think he hired someone?” “ Fits. We already had an assault charge on him for trying to do in Figueroa. From what I can make out, Harlan was the one who made this appointment with Figueroa. It sure sounds like Harlan was setting him up, but there are a lot of craters to fill in.”
“Like why Anton would have been fool enough to keep the appointment?” Hank nodded. “It beats the hell out of me. I talked to Jerry. He was one of the officers who showed up at the Malalani fight scene. He says he never saw anyone so mad in all his life as Harlan was. Harlan tried to strangle Figueroa, and it took four of the waiters to pry him lose. As far as Jerry's concerned, Harlan would have hired a hit man only as a last desperate measure.”
“Why so?” “Because he would have wanted to kill Figueroa all on his own.”
“That's the other problem, Hank. If Harlan did hire a hit man, why would he have been so stupid as to be right in the building when the contract was being carried out?”
“Jerry had the explanation for that. He says Harlan wanted to see Figueroa die.”
*** Long after Wayne Harlan had left, Sid, Qual and Kay were still discussing the case. Qual had just finished talking to Hank and announced, “At the moment, our client isn't being charged.”
Kay was looking thoughtful, while Sid said, “I'd feel a little better about it if Figueroa's wallet were missing but, even so, it sure looks like a mugging and nothing more. What did Hank have to say about it?”
“He's leaning in that direction,” Qual said, “but don't think he isn't thinking about the hired killer possibility.”
“Aren't we?”
Qual and Sid both laughed. “Sounds as though you don't trust our new client,” Qual said.
Kay laughed in return.“Have we ever had a client we fully trusted? Besides, I'll bet the both of you were pretty dubious about some of the stuff he was feeding us.”
Sid nodded. “The reconciliation scene with Figueroa was just too much. All I can say is that Anton must have been pretty stupid to have kept the appointment.” Qual disagreed. “It wasn't as though Anton was going to meet Wayne in a parking garage at midnight. This was the middle of the day and right in the building where Wayne was living. Besides, Wayne can be pretty smooth,” he added. “I've heard him give talks to community groups, and he can sure be convincing.”
“Then why was he so unconvincing today?” Kay said.
Qual grinned. “That's because he was dealing with three professional skeptics.”
“He's covering up something,” Sid said. “That's obvious.” “ Just generally, he baffles me,” Kay said. “Here I thought he'd heave a sigh of relief when I came up with an explanation for why the police wouldn't suspect him of hiring the killer, and instead of being relieved he acted almost disappointed.”
“Come on, Kay!” Sid said with emphasis. “I know he's rattling our chains, but I can't believe he wants to be suspected.”
“Maybe not, Sid,” Qual countered,“but you have to admit he's strange. Even so, we know his money's good, and we're working for him.”
“I hope you're talking about you and Kay when you say 'we.'“ Sid said. “I've got my hands full with the Kealoha assault case.” Qual nodded. “It looks like this is going to have to be all Kay's. I've got two trips scheduled for Honolulu next week, so I won't even be around to give moral support. Which means you'd better start scaring up some character witnesses in case he's charged, Kay. Maybe Laura can give you some help.”
“From the way he talks about himself,” Kay said, “it's not going to be easy to find anyone to say kind words about Wayne.” “ Actually,” Qual commented, “he has a good reputation. No shady business deals, no bribing politicians, nothing like that at all. While he's no pillar of the community, his company has given out scholarships and contributed to charity walks and such.”
“ That helps,” Sid said, “but I'd feel better about him if he weren't so evasive. We seem to have a knack at finding clients who enjoy watching us stumbling around in the dark.”
“Well,” Kay said, “that's his business. He's paying us to defend him, and if he won't tell us what's going on, I guess we'll have to find it out for ourselves.” Sid groaned. “Here we go again. No wonder you're so pleased at getting this case. I think you're always happiest when you're snooping. One of these days you're going to investigate the wrong person.”
“ I'll let Kay be the investigator,” Qual said as he picked up his briefcase.“Today I have a date with some artichokes. I'll do Sunday duty by going down to the station with Wayne tomorrow but, after that, it's all yours. Have a good weekend.”
Sid shook his head. “The weekend's half gone, and guess what Kay is going to want to talk about all day Sunday.”
>
“Maybe not all day,” Kay said. “Remember, we're having company for supper.”
“Who are the lucky guests?” Qual asked as he opened the outer office door on his way out.
“Sid's favorite judge, Lisa Raines, and our favorite real estate agent, Ron Crockett.” “Great,” Qual said, “Ron must know Wayne. Maybe Ron can be your first character witness.”
Chapter 6
Sid was still packing his briefcase as Kay was heading for the door.“Hurry up, Sid,” she said. “Saturday afternoon can be crowded at the courts.” The courts Kay was referring to were not judicial. Both Kay and Sid had become tennis buffs over the years and, with the Civic Park Center close by the office, they usually managed a set, two or three times a week. Ordinarily, they would have played singles, since they were evenly matched, and this guaranteed them the strenuous exercise which was part of their reason for taking up the sport.
Today, the courts were crowded, and they settled for doubles with a young Filipino couple they had never seen before at the Center. Talking to them before the game, Sid realized they weren't locals. There was no hint of pidgin in their English. Instead, they spoke the language with the curious melodious quality typical of the Ilocano speakers newly arrived from the Philippines.
Sid expected the worst. Though he took tennis less seriously than Kay did, he enjoyed a game with near equals, and both he and Kay were far better than the average tennis player making use of Napua's public courts. That had been the reason for Sid's and Kay's preference for singles over doubles.
The worst happened, only not the way Sid had expected.
On the way home, still aching from his exertions, he said to an equally tired Kay, “Hell! I didn't even know they played tennis in the Philippines.”
Kay gave a weak smile and replied, “You know now.”
*** Clutching her mug of hot coffee, Corky was struggling to wake up as she sat in Hank's office watching him empty out the plastic sack containing the personal effects of the late Anton Figueroa.
“There has to be a new rule around here,” she said. “No homicides between Friday and Monday. Alan and I had big plans for this morning.
Hank looked up from the pile on his desk. “Were you going somewhere?”
“Uh-uh. We were going to stay in bed until noon.”
“Honeymoon hasn't worn off yet, huh? There'll be no time for morning hanky panky when you have a couple of kids roaring into the bedroom at six A.M. on Sunday.” “There may be one on the way.”
Hank looked up again, his eyes wide with surprise. “No kidding. When's the big day?”
“Can't be exactly sure. We have to check with immigration officials.”
“Immigration officials? Since when does the stork have to go through immigration?” Corky broke into a laugh. “No way are we going to add to the burdens of the world. We're dickering with a Korean adoption agency. There are all sorts of kids over there who need parents. Besides, it's silly to o through all the agony of whelping when you can get 'em ready made.”
Hank's reaction to the news convinced Corky she had found another blind spot in the lieutenant's personality. Adoption ranked along with women's liberation in his mind. Deciding a war on two fronts would be even less successful than the battle she sporadically waged on one, Corky turned to the matter at hand, the contents of Anton Figueroa's pockets on the day he was murdered.
*** “ Up!” Kay was leaning over the bed, and Sid was doing an unsuccessful job of feigning sleep, still feeling the muscles he had put to a severe test the day before. “There's a big day ahead of us.”
“ Not even Sunday's sacred around here,” Sid grumbled as he struggled up and started searching through his bureau drawers for underwear. As he spoke, a poster he had attached to the wall with transparent tape slipped unceremoniously to the floor.
Kay laughed at the expression of disgust on his face. “Sid, you're going to have to give up and use thumb tacks. Every single poster you've stuck up with tape has fallen down.”
Sid glared at the fallen poster. “There must be something that'll hold them to the wall but won't leave a mark.”
Kay shook her head and went off to the kitchen, leaving Sid in the middle of yet one more futile attempt to tape up the poster and to make it stay. Two of their three cats were waiting for breakfast. Sheena, the matriarch of the group, was generally the least demonstrative one, but she maintained her special and unchallenged post next to the refrigerator. Cross-eyed John Samuel, a white mixedSiamese and now neutered tom, was much more active, greeting Kay at the bedroom door and following her into the kitchen, rubbing happily against her legs as he did so. Bluebeard, produced by the other two cats prior to their operations, came crashing through the cat door from the outside at these signs of activity around the food source. Feeding the cats was one of the first steps in the morning ritual.
Sid and Kay lived part way up the ridge stretching north and east of Napua. They had recently built their new home there on an acre of ground looking out on the Pacific. After an initial period of adjustment to the quiet of the rural area, they agreed the setting was ideal, and both wondered why they had not long before moved out to this peaceful area.
Today, two additional converts to rural living were coming to dinner. Lisa Raines, one of the two circuit court judges on Elima and Ron Crockett, the real estate man who had sold Sid and Kay the property, were the guests. Both had voiced interest in moving out to the area and had recently bought some land nearby. Kay and Sid had invited them to dinner to give them their own firsthand description of what the change from a downtown apartment had meant to them.
*** “ What's on the menu for tonight besides the kalua pig?” Sid asked, while looking for an appropriate breakfast choice among the boxes of cereal lined up in the kitchen cabinet. By then, the cats had settled down to demolishing the food mounded up in three saucers next to the refrigerator.
Kay was eating a half grapefruit as she read the mail she had opened the night before and set aside. “Remind me to go to the League of Women Voters meeting this week, Sid.”
“When is it?”
“Wednesday night. It might be interesting for a change. The lieutenant-governor's going to be there to answer questions. I've got one or two of my own to ask her.” Sid grunted as he checked through his own mail. “You better write the date down or you'll forget it for sure, and good luck on trying to get a straight answer to anything from that cipher.”
Kay put aside the notice and picked up her menu for the evening's meal. “If you take care of the pork, I think the rest is pretty much under control. Miso soup, Chinese cabbage salad. I'm going to try broiling some eggplant slices this time. Rice, of course. Lemon carrots. I'll have sliced tomatoes on the table, too. There isn't enough color, otherwise.”
“How about dessert?”
“I've already made up a guava custard. We can put out a lot of fruit slices like pineapple and soursop.”
“Lots of pupus?” “ Uh-uh. Just some light snacks. Maybe crackers and cheese. I'm following Craig's lead. No hard liquor beforehand.” She grinned, and mimicked Craig's voice and intonation, “The palate must not be insulted with before-dinner drinks if the dinner is worth eating at all.”
“It was Craig's idea for me to get a couple of bottles of special white Burgundy. We had it once at his house, and it's ono good.”
“How well does Ron Crockett know our new client? Any idea?” Sid looked up from his cereal bowl. “I wondered how long it would be before we got around to the Harlan topic. In a town this size, I imagine everyone in real estate knows every other agent inside and out.”
“I hope so, because I have a lot of questions to ask Ron about Wayne Harlan.”
“Wayne is your client, remember, not our client. My plate's overflowing as it is.
*** “ Nothing spectacular here,” Hank said as he inspected the small pile on his desk. “One wallet with most of the usual in it: a driver's license; three credit cards; a half-dozen gas receipts; twenty-one
dollars in bills; some miscellaneous ID, including a Chamber of Commerce membership card; and a foil-wrapped condom. Only thing strange about it all is he still had the wallet on him.”
“So now you're figuring it was a mugging.” “ Looks more and more like a mugging. Clyde's convinced me it couldn't have been a suicide, and the elevator's too much of a public place for anyone to commit a premeditated murder. If you're going to use a butcher knife on someone, a kitchen is a much more suitable and likely place. Who ever heard of a hit man using a butcher knife to carry out a contract anyway?”
“ Yeah. I can't feature anyone planning to kill someone and lugging around a knife with a ten-inch blade to do it. And I sure can't see the average citizen just happening to have a butcher knife handy in an elevator and using it to settle a private dispute. It's much more likely to be a threat weapon.”
Hank was amused at the thought. “You mean a 'money or your life' approach?” “ Uh-huh. Anton didn't want to give up the money. Which fits with the wallet still being on him. The guy who did it never intended to use the knife and fell apart right after he did. All the blood and gore made him think of only one thing, getting the hell out of there.”
“ I'll buy that. The butcher knife is the kind of item a dope-head would pick up if he's desperate and wants to try his hand at a mugging. The only problem is Victorine says it was one hell of a blow, which doesn't quite fit with a nervous mugger's attempt to shake down a victim.”
Corky agreed and added, “Another problem is it was an overhand thrust. Can you picture even an amateur mugger raising his hand over his head with a knife in it? It kind of bothered me when I found Anton. Ninety percent of the knife wounds I've seen have been up and into the belly. Even the drunks in barroom brawls know enough to handle knives underhanded.”
Hank shrugged. “So we've got a real amateur, here. It just has to be some doper who was getting frantic to find enough money for a fix.” Corky was only half listening to Hank's objections and continued, “A chest wound doesn't sound like anyone was striking out in panic. That makes it look as though whoever stabbed Anton wanted to finish him off. But until we have something better to go on, I guess we'll have to treat it as a mugging.”
The Yoshinobu Mysteries: Volume 2 Page 20