Kay had her legal pad in front of her and was scribbling notes. Without looking up, she said, “Lets assume were right and Joe is covering for Zoe, then he must have some pretty convincing evidence shes guilty. What might it be?”
“He found traces of dynamite in her compact,” Craig said, a broad smile covering his face.
“You may not be too far off the mark, Craig,” Kay said, adding the idea to her notes. “If he stumbled across any evidence shed been handling explosives, it would have been rather convincing. A trout in the milk tends to raise ones suspicions?”
“Huh!” Craig said.
Qual patiently explained. “Thats from Thoreau. He used to get his milk from the local farmers who were sometimes suspected of watering down their product.” Turning to Kay, he added, “I didnt know you had such a literary streak, Kay.”
“I dont,” Kay said, amusement again in her voice. “I picked the trout notion up from my shoplifting colonel, and didnt know until now that Thoreau had ever said it.” Looking back down at her notes, she went on, “So were assuming he had good evidence. But he must have had some notion about her motive. Anybody have any ideas?” “The simplest one,” Sid suggested,“is the one he applied to himself.” “You mean she was having an affair with Charlotte?” Craig asked.
“Its a possibility,” Kay said. “Anyhow, it should be an easy one to check off. If she is gay or bi, someone in her own circle of friends should know about it.”
“Not necessarily,” Qual said. “When youre in the closet, you can keep the door closed awfully tight. Only a few gay friends may know about it. And most of the HH crowd circulates on Oahu a lot more than over here.” He paused,“You know, Craig and I were planning on going over to Oahu this week for one of Bill Weatherfields concerts. No reason why we couldnt go over there tomorrow.”
“And see Frieda?” Craig asked.
“Right,” Qual answered, then explained. “Frieda Epstein runs a gay bar in HonoluluFriedas Bottoms Up Lounge, no lessand if theres anyone who knows every gay and lesbian on Oahu, it would be her.
“Great,” Kay said. “Thats a beginning. Weve still got a problem, though. Who killed Charlotte Dyer? Assuming she was killed and didnt just trip and fall on that lamp. Sid and I are convinced OHearne didnt do itcouldnt have done it. He simply wouldnt have had enough time. So who did?”
Craig had been trying to speak, and now took advantage of the pause. “Maybe we should go back to the zebra, Kay, instead of talking about the horse.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why couldnt Joe have killed OHearne and Charlotte Dyer?” The others looked puzzled, and Craig went on to explain. “Sure. Joe could have killed Charlotte in a jealous rage,then saw OHearne coming in for a visit and decided to finish him off too. But right then Joe didnt have the timeor the weapon.”
Sid and Qual looked at each other and smiled. Kay looked serious. “You know Craig, you may have something there. It makes alot more sense to assume were dealing with just one murderer rather than two. Youve just applied the principle of Occams razor to this case.”
Craig looked puzzled. Qual stood up, saying, “This ones too complicated for now, Craig. Ill explain about Occams Razor on the plane tomorrow.”
***
Leilani was getting up from behind her desk when the conference ended. “I was just going to get you, Kay. Do you know what time it is? Youve got a one oclock hearing with Judge Wong, and you know how he treats lawyers who dont show up on time.”
Kay looked at her watch in dismay. “God! Where did the morning go? I wont even have time to stop by the cafeteria.”
Leilani reached into a brown bag on her desk. “Here, Kay. Ive finished lunch and I have a sandwich left over.”
“What kind is it?”
“Spam.” Leilani decided the expression on Kays face reflected too little enthusiasm. “Hey, sistah, I raise four keikis on Spam. You no lift your nose at it. Its onospecially with my marinade.”
Kay accepted the offering, deciding Spam would beat having her stomach growling in Judge Wongs presence. Before leaving, she glanced into Sids office and said, “Will you call Ramon Santiago? Fill him in on what we want him to do for us on the mainland.”
“Sure thing. Well let a professional do the investigating this time. Right?” Kay was out of earshot before the question was asked.
Chapter 13
Ramon Santiago was no James Bond. Small, dark skinnedRamon could have passed for any of the hundreds of Filipino farm workers on the island and, as he insisted, it was what made him the ideal investigator.
“Id be willing to bet most people haoles, anywayseeing me for the first time, figure I cant speak English or understand anything but Illocano. Thats a handy quality to have in my business.”
As a matter of fact, Ramon was a third generation mainland Filipino-American with an advanced college degree and a thorough mastery of English, which included the argot of the Chicago streets as well as the proper jargon of academia.
“ I thought it would be better if I dropped by and filled you in on all the details. Ive also got a photo to give you.” Sid had settled himself down in one of the wicker chairs adorning Ramons modest office.
“ Fire away,” Ramon answered. “Its always a pleasure to work for you folks. It sure beats the hell out of keeping records on motel room rendezvous.”
Sid grinned. “This involves a million dollars, but we dont expect to get it, so dont you count on getting rich for these services.”
Ramon sat back in his swivel chair with his hands behind his head, and said, with an answering grin, “Remember, Im just a working slob. Crowley Investigators, Inc. owns this munificent office and everything else in it. I never see the bills, nor the check you send to them in Honolulu. But I am curious. Fill me in on this million dollars.”
Sid quickly explained, saying, finally, “So the best guess is Morton Dyer had a frienda close friendon the mainland, who sent the money back. Our client wants to know who the friend is. So heres your job. Find the friend.”
Ramons eyes narrowed. “You said, „best guess. Whats the next best guess?
Sid shrugged in annoyance. “The next guess is Kays, and you know the wild ideas she gets. She thinks its possible Morton Dyer wasnt on the plane, even though the airlines had him listed, and the seat count checked out. Anyhow, we dont want your investigator over there to get confused about what hes supposed to do. We have several leads where he can make a startplaces where Dyer was shortly before the crash and a picture of him to show around.” Sid picked up his briefcase and took out a three by five studio photo of Morton Dyer.
“Its an old one,” Sid said, handing it over the desk, “but the people we checked with said he was the kind who didnt age much. The main thing is for your investigator to ask around about any friends Morton may have had. The picture is for storekeepers, motel owners and the likepeople who might not have known Morton, but may have seen him around. You got anyone over there whos good at this sort of thing?”
Ramon looked at the photo for a moment, then said, “Yeah, I know just the guy for this kind of investigation. He has his own agency in Chicago, and we farm work out to him from time to time.” Ramon looked over at his coffee machine which was obviously defunct. “Time for a coffee break. Join me at the greasy spoon next store, and we can work out the details over a cup and some dunkers.”
***
“Wheres Lieutenant DeMello? He isnt back there in his office.” Corky was asking the question of the desk sergeant.
“Hes over talking to Chief Yamada. If I were you, Id stay clear of the lieut, today. Hes acting like an alligator with a toothache.” Glumly, the desk sergeant added, “Its just generally been a pisser of a day. Why in shit we should have been so lucky as to get two Manuel Medeiroses on the same day in the same cell is beyond me.”
Corky, whod been born a Medeiros and having heard of the morning mix-up, grinned at the sergeants discomfiture. “Knowing what my relatives are like, and with so many of them o
n the island, and with half of them named Manuel, I wouldnt have been a bit surprised if theyd found a half dozen of them in the lockup at the same time.”
The information made the desk sergeant no happier as he slouched down in his chair, only to straighten up suddenly when Hank stepped through the front door. The desk sergeant hadnt been far wrong. Hank looked grim.
Corky didnt expect much more than a growl from him, and it was what she got as she said, “Lieutenant, Ive got the final report on the OHearne explosives. Want to go over it?”
Hank moved his head in the general direction of his office and went stalking off with Corky following a few feet behind. Instead of going in immediately, Corky made a detour to the office coffeemaker saying, “Want me to get you a cup, Hank?”
The answering grunt was quite evidently a“No.”
When she finally made it to his office with her steaming coffee, Hank was sitting behind his desk staring glumly at a side wall containing a large mural photo of the battleship Missouri, taken during the signing of the peace treaty in Tokyo harbor.
Corky broke the silence. “Whats up, Hank? Chief Yamada on the peck?”
At first, Hank seemed not to hear, then he slowly swiveled around to face her. “You know, Corky, if it werent for my daughter, the decisions would be easy.”
“Daughter?” Corky had almost choked on the mouthful of coffee shed had in her mouth. Coughing her way back to a normal voice, she asked,“Whats your daughter got to do with anything?”
“Well, if it werent for her, I wouldnt be worrying about this damn captaincy. I could tell the county to shove it. But I cant, because of her.”
“O.K., Hank. Youve lost me completely. The only thing I know about your daughter is shes one hell of a nice kid and is probably the brightest math student theyve ever had in Kennedy Elementaryat least according to our neighbors who have a kid in the same class.
“Thats exactly the problem. Her teacher says shes doing advanced high school problems, and hereshes just in seventh grade. And shes already talking to me about the college she wants to go to.”
“Oh, oh. Im beginning to get the picture. Shes got an expensive one in mind.”
“Right. M.I.T., no less. Tonis been in talking to her teachers, and all her grades are tops. Everyone at school says shell be able to take her pick of colleges if she keeps going the way shes going.”
“You might as well relax, then. If shes a math whiz, shell get a scholarship for sure.”
“Sure. Theres a police scholarship shell be eligible for, but it wont go far at a place like M.I.T. And even if she gets a good one, theres still a lot of other expenses. And my boys got his heart set on going to some mainland college too.”
“Cheer up, Hank. If she gets a degree in engineering, shell be hired by some high powered outfit, and shell pay you back in a few years. You should be able to borrow more than enough to see her and your boy through.”
Hanks lids half closed over his eyes. “Do you know how Toni feels about borrowing? You know her Dad almost lost everything he owned because he borrowed to make his truck farm a going enterprise, and then he died leaving all those debts behind. Uhuh, its either a captaincy, or Ill have to go on night shift at the plantation.”
Corky guffawed aloud at the thought of Hank doing anything else besides police work. “Did the chief give you any hints?”
“Hes as much in the dark as everyone else, except the budget has to be in within a week. So the positions will have to be known before then, even if they dont fill „em right away.
Corky made a face. “So this makes for double waiting. First it will be whether or not the mayors going to budget for those positions, and then it will be who will fill them if she does include them in the budget. Ugh!”
Hank shook himself out of his reverie. “To hell with it. Lets get back to business. What did Newman have to report on the explosives?”
Corky opened her notepad, took out a folded sheet of paper and handed it over to Hank. “I can summarize it for you,” she said. “The lab says the fragments in the car and in OHearnes body are exactly the same as the dynamite in the box we found out at the mac field. Joe wasnt lying about that, anyway.”
Hank sat up straight in his chair, looked at his watch and said, “Hell! Its almost four. Raines is having the bail hearing for Joe right at four, and I dont want to miss that. Come along and see the show.”
***
Whether it was the caffeine, or simply the chance to talk to someone after long hours of boring work, Sid couldnt be certain, but Ramon seemed to be in an especially expansive mood as he sat over his coffee and donuts.
Sid, using the horrible-tasting cup of instant decaf mainly to warm his hands, spent little time drinking and a lot of time listening.
“Yeah, this guyhis names Frantishek Krocsanyis primo. His specialty is stakeouts. You know, thats the toughest part of this business. Its bad enough here in Hawaii, but can you imagine what its like in mid-winter in Chicago?”
Sid couldnt imagine it, and Ramon went on to describe it. “Youre standing hour after hour in some dark doorway, with an icy wind coming off the lake, cold enough to freeze the balls off a polar bear, and nothing happens. And you cant so much as light a cigarette to keep your nose warm.
“There was one guy who used to figure out how much he was earning while standing there. John something-orother, I cant remember his name. A little Irishman from Boston. He was earning six dollars an hour, which was big money back then. He figured out how much he was earning per second, and hed keep ticking it off every second and adding it up in his head. He said he used to hate being relieved because it meant he had to stop adding.
“Then there was this other guy, a big Swede from up in farm country. He said he could make his mind go completely blank and think about nothing at all. It didnt bother him if he staked out for four hours or forty, just so he didnt drink too much coffee before going on shift. I tried blanking out my mind like that, but no way could I do it.” Ramon seemed to be pondering those attempts, then said, “More and more, I think he was just jerking my chain when he told me that.”
A pause gave Sid a chance to comment. “Yeah, it must be hell just watching when theres nothing to watch.”
Ramon washed down the last of his donut and said, “It can be even worse when theres something to watch. Some of those motel scenes are wilder than any X-rated movie. Theyre enough to give Jesus Christ himself a hard-on. We had one guy in the agency I was working in who broke a leg because of what he saw.”
Sid looked completely baffled.
Ramon grinned. “Hed climbed a tree to look in a second story window. It all got so exciting he started jacking off and fell out of the tree. The boys at the agency had a field day with him after that. Ramon broke into a loud laugh which Sid joined.
“Getting back to Frank,” Ramon said, after the laughter subsided, “Ill see he gets a copy of the photo right away. Faxes are pretty good these days, but Ill see if I can copy it on my flimsy scanner and send it off to him by email. In any event , Ill back it up with an air express of the original. Ill paint the broad picture for him and have him call you or Kay to get the details. Hell report right to you when he finds anything.”
“You mean if he finds anything.”
Ramons face broke into a confident smile. “I mean when Frank finds anything. Hes the best in the business, with a nose like a bloodhound.” Ramon paused.“Come to think of it, he kind of looks like a bloodhound.”
***
At first, Sid thought the crowd had turned out for the Demos hearing, then recalled the case just before theirs was a pakalolo bust. Expecting to find a dealer, the police instead had found a party going on and had ended up by bringing in nine smokers but no dealer.
Judge Raines entered the courtroom moments after Sid arrived. Even before Sid had a chance to sit with his client and the accompanying officer, the bailiff had everyone rise.
The crowd was a rag-tag, bob-tailed outfit. Each of the defendants had an acc
ompanying public defender or assigned attorney. The professionals were clearly distinguishable from their clients. The attorneys wore suits. The clients wore anything and everything from cutoffs and sandals to long wrap-around saris. One of them had a cheek stud. Another, purple dyed hair. A third was completely bald, with even his eyebrows missing.
They dont know how lucky they are to have Raines and not Wong presiding, thought Sid. The thought triggered off another one: how two, truly fair and impartial justices could sometimes arrive at completely different decisions though dealing with essentially the same offenses. Wong would have taken umbrage at the motley dress and ornaments of the defendants and, if anything, he would have been even more disturbed by the nature of the crime involved.
Lisa Raines, on the other hand, probably didnt even notice the strange costumes, and she was notoriously lenient in drug cases. The prosecutor has his job cut out for him, Sid mused.
The decision was swift. Bail was set at twenty-five dollars apiece, over the assistant prosecutors vehement protests. Several of the defendants began to grumble, but their accompanying attorneys soon quelled the murmurs. Theyre probably telling their clients how damn lucky they are, Sid decided.
The court soon cleared, and the Court Clerk called out, “State of Hawaii versus Joanilos Demos.” Emil Bautista, the young prosecutor, was obviously uncomfortable with this case. Sid knew why. Joe Demos might not have spent much time on Elima, but he had spent a lot of cash there. His money bought tons of macadamia nuts from local farmers; his own farms, processing plant and retail outlet provided jobs for over a hundred of Elimas residents; and he was notoriously generous in his contributions to various fund drives and local charities.
It was now Sids turn to think of himself as being lucky. No stray vagrant would have gotten so swift a bail hearing. Justice may be blind, Sid thought, but class still counts.
The Yoshinobu Mysteries: Volume 2 Page 62