Kay and Sid listened to the ongoing flow of pleasant reaction to the new status of the clinic, neither of them interrupting, since they were both hoping the aura of good feeling building up might help produce a positive response to a rather touchy subject.
Finally, after a pause in the description, Kay said, “The reason we came was we thought you might be able to supply us with information which could help one of our clients.”
“I got that impression from your phone call. What kind of information are you looking for?”
Kay had rehearsed the approach she had intended to take, but was still uncertain about the best method of introducing the topic. She finally settled on a brief description of Joes confession and the reason they felt it was false.
Agness eyes narrowed, and the tone of enthusiasm disappeared from her voice. “So youre going to try to push it off on his wife?”
“Not necessarily,” Sid said quickly, “She may have had nothing to do with OHearnes killing. Were just convinced Joe has some reason for suspecting her. Were not going to find out from him what it is, so were doing some background checking.”
Kay was watching Agnes closely while Sid was talking. She could see the wheels turning and knew Agness quick mind had already spotted the direction they were heading. Agnes swiftly confirmed Kays conclusion.
“And youve come to me for background on Mrs. Demos,” Agnes said, her voice now completely flat.
Sid nodded, knowing there was no point in either denying or pushing. In the past he had questioned Agnes on the witness stand in two cases involving wife beatings. He had been defending the suspected batterers. Agnes had testified for the battered. Sid had never come close to shaking her testimony.
The tense lines which had appeared in Agness face slowly disappeared. She brought up the one instance in which Sid had represented a badly beaten wife who had been accused of her husbands murder. She then broke into a laugh. “If you hadnt worked so hard to get Naomi Owen off, Id probably kick you out about now.” Then she shrugged her shoulders. “I guess gay bashing isnt the favorite sport it used to be, andhell! theres no reason lesbians cant be criminals too. Ive known at least a couple who were. O.K. Ill help, if I can. But I dont even know the Demoses, so I cant tell you much about Mrs. Demos sexual interests. Whats her name, by the way?”
“Zoe.”
“Thats unusual enough so I should remember it. But I dont. What was her maiden name? Maybe she used a different first name back then.”
Kay flipped through her notes. “Her maiden name was Johansen, but she lived on the mainland back then. Then she married a navy man, name of Sutherland. So far as we know she always went by the name of Zoeno middle name or initial.”
Agnes shook her head. “Nope. None of those names ring a bell.”
Kay described Zoes appearance, but the answer was still negative.
“Sorry. If she was gay, her circle never crossed mine. But, from what Ive heard of their boat and house, Im not surprised we never met.”
“What about Charlotte Dyer?” Kay asked. Her maiden name was Beaudoin, but that was back when she was living on the mainland too.”
Again, Agnes shook her head. She smiled and said, “Guess Im not much help today.”
Sid checked his watch and began to rise, “Thats O.K. You cant win „em all,” he said.
Agnes held out a hand, palm up. “Wait a minute,” she said, “Demos! Hes the owner of Hawaiian Harvest, isnt he? You never said. Why, of course. Now, I remember. It was in the paper. It was some executive in the company who got killed in the air crash on New Years Day, and his wife was found dead here in Napua the same day. Of course! Sit back down. I do have some information for you. But its about Isobel Kim. Interested?”
They were.
***
The Fat Priest had weighed in the neighborhood of four hundred pounds when Hank and Corky had last seen him. Today, when Hank heard he would be out at his farm supervising the work there, the lieutenant fully expected to see the short but massive mestizo Filipino lumbering around uncomfortably through rows of coffee beans or guava trees. The reality was quite different from expectations.
The farm consisted of some two acres of two-foot high A-frames, to each of which a colorful fighting cock was tethered. Smooth asphalt walkways crisscrossed the layout. As Hank and Corky got out of their car in a parking space at one end of the farm area, an electric wheelchair, custom made to accommodate the bulk of its occupant, came zipping down one of the paths. Deafening crows from the myriad of roosters filled the air.
“Ah! Lieutenant DeMello and Sergeant Honda. A pleasure to see you both again.” The chairs occupant had put on at least an additional fifty pounds. The smooth, unblemished face housed two pinpoints of eyes with barely visible eyelashes, the merest hint of eyebrows, a small cupids bow of a mouth, and nostril openings of a nose almost lost in the massive, fleshy background. Triple chins hid any neck holding up the massive head. And, today, even the small ears were lost in the shade of a large straw hat. To his visitors he held out a dainty hand hanging from a fragile wrist.
“I hope you will excuse this concession I have made to the infirmities of age.” He tapped one arm of his wheelchair. “But, come, I must offer you a place to sit comfortably as well as some refreshments. Also, conversation there will be somewhat easier.” The last was shouted over the raucous crowing. So saying, he wheeled his chair around and headed for what looked like a large shed. As he rolled up to it, the doors, controlled by a photoelectric cell, slid back into their pockets, closing after the three of them had entered. The interior of the shed consisted of a large room with a door at the back evidently leading to additional rooms. The Fat Priest waved them to two raffia chairs which turned out to be more comfortable than their appearance had indicated.
In a moment, the same Filipina who had served them on their previous visit to the Fat Priests home, someone he identified as his niece but had never introduced, slipped into the room with a dolly loaded with cakes, cookies, fruit, coffee and tea. Quickly and silently serving her uncle, she wheeled the dolly within reach of the visitors and left as unobtrusively as she had entered.
Corky,remembering the Fat Priests coffee was superb, poured herself a steaming cup. Hank sampled a cookie. Their host took a sip of his tea, then said, “I am always honored to have members of the Napua Police Department visit me.”
Hank doubted the statement, especially since many of those contacts in the past had been something less than benign. In recent years, however, the Fat Priest had managed to stay mostly within the law, had quite evidently prospered, and had dealings with police mainly of the kind represented by their current visit.
Hank allowed the talk to drift off into matters of little importance and trifling interest. Corky was happy to prolong the discussion, since it gave her an excuse to pour herself a second cup of the delicious coffee. But, finally, Hank broke off the flow and got down to the reason for their visit.
The Fat Priests head nodded almost imperceptibly as Hank described the explosion. “Yes,” their host said, “I saw the results on the news. I fear many local residents are quite upset at such an indiscriminate method of sending a person on from faith to knowledge. And I must say I share their distaste for actions which may have such dire consequences for completely innocent bystanders. Dynamite is so impersonal.”
Neither Hank nor Corky said anything as the Fat Priest paused for almost a minute, then continued. “Since you are undoubtedly here hoping I might perhaps be able to shed some light on this incident, let me assure you that it seems to me to be something of a private or, let us say, a personal matter. Im certain you have already explored the relationship which existed between the late Mr. OHearne and the late Mrs. Dyer. I regret to say I can make no other connections for you. I have never counted the owners and managerial staff of Hawaiian Harvest among my circle of acquaintances.”
“Were reasonably certain the two deaths are connected,” Hank admitted. “But we want to keep an open mind on t
he subject, so we were wondering if this killing of OHearne might not have been a professional job.”
For a moment, the dark pinpoint of eyes opened larger. “I respect your readiness to consider all possibilities, Lieutenant, but in this instance I feel you are wandering down the garden path. There are what I suppose we could label “explosive experts,” among the more criminal elements on Oahu, but I know of none who are permanent residents of our own lovely island. And, certainly, it seems unlikely any of them who might have had a reason to dispose of Mr. OHearne in such a fashion would have gone to the trouble of coming over here to do so.
“Since the victim of this tragedy was undoubtedly due to be soon returning to Oahu, it would have made far more sense to await a return to where the necessary paraphernalia would be nearer at handand would not require transportationan activity which greatly increases the possibilities such materials will be discovered by the authorities.”
Hank admitted to himself the Fat Priests reasoning made good sense.
Corky nodded in agreement and reached again for the coffee pot. As she did so, she caught what she took to be the barest hint of amusement in the fleshy face. At first she thought it had been instigated by her own unabashed display of appreciation for the coffee, then a word from the Fat Priests monologues suddenly struck her. Why did he say“permanent” resident, she wondered.
Having interrogated him on several occasions, she knew he enjoyed springing surprises, and she suspected there was one hidden behind “permanent.” She now wondered if the amusement wasnt the prelude to such a surprise, one she and Hank would perhaps have to go fishing for.
Having poured her coffee, she took a wild stab at this elusive target and asked,“Do you think its possible OHearne blew himself up?”
The massive face suddenly broke into a broad smile, something which a few moments before it had seemed totally incapable of exhibiting. “You are very astute, Sergeant. I doubt, however, that Mr. OHearneif I remember the expression correctlydid himself in. He was far too familiar with the nature of explosives to have made such an error.”
Corky stopped her cup in midair. The cookie Hank was bringing to his mouth remained unbitten. The two of them waited for the next words their host was obviously savoring before casting forth.
“Oh, yes. He was very familiar with explosives. I believe you people would refer to the likes of him as a „professional bomber.”
It was Hank who broke the silence following the announcement. “That explains it! He probably did blow himself up by accident.”
The Fat Priests almost imperceptible eyebrows moved up a few millimeters. “Have you positively ascertained the nature of the explosive?”
Hank nodded. “Dynamite.”
“Then I very much fear dynamite renders your theory untenable, Lieutenant. Beethoven would have been as likely to compose for the harmonica as Leonard OHearne was to apply his not inconsiderable skills to such a crude and lowly substance as dynamite.”
***
Agnes sat forward in her chair, placed her elbows on the desk and put the index fingers of her folded hands to her lips in a prayer-like gesture, while her eyes focused on something far off in the distance. It was evident she was thinking over what she planned to say. As she spoke, it was even more evident she was choosing her words carefully. “Isobel Martin and I came to Hawaii together. It must have been tenno, now its over twelve years ago.” She looked across at her visitors, and smiled. “Time does fly.”
After a pause, she added.“We were housemates back then. Both from the same small town in Colorado. I dont know if you know what Colorados like. Worse yet, small towns in Colorado. And bad as things are there now for anyone whos gay, they were even worse back then. Isobel was teaching business courses in the high school, and I was a clerkin the administrative office. I wasnt much older than the high school students myself, and a lot more naive than most of them. Isobels about ten years older than I amchronologically. Back then, she was centuries older in experience. And, as I look back at it, I didnt really know what she was like because I couldnt compare her to anyone else. She was my first lover.
Kay was tempted to ask her what she was like, but decided not to interrupt. As it turned out, Agnes seemed to read her thoughts.
“Maybe what attracted me most was her sophistication. Thats really not the right word. It was her coolness. Maybe even her cruelty, though I didnt see that side of her then. Once, much later, she was driving, and she ran down a cat. I dont mean she deliberatelydid it. She could have easily avoided it though, but didnt even try. When I got sick over what happened, she was just amused. But, back when I first met her, I thought she was wonderful. It wasnt long before I was practically worshipping her. It was myfirst real crush. We moved in together, and thats when the talk began in the town.
“Neither of us wanted to fight the age-old battle, so we decided to go as far away from Colorado as we could get, which is what brought us to Hawaii. Isobel knew she wasnt about to get any kind of recommendation from the old Baptist principal back at the high school. She ended up going to work for Dole Pineapple over on Oahu. As for me, clerical work was scarce back then for anyone with as little experience as I had, so I had to settle for a hashing job.”
Kay broke in to ask, “What restaurant?”
“The Yoshi over in Kaimuki.”
Kay decided not to mention that the Yoshi was her fathers second restaurant, perhaps his most successful one. Instead, she decided there was now one more item for her family to report on.
“I worked there for maybe a year, even after Isobel and I broke up.”
“What happened?”
Agnes shrugged. “How do you fix blame? Maybe we were drifting apart already. Anyhow, a regular customer at the Yoshi, a womana married woman, if that makes any differencebecame interested in me. The tips got bigger. We talked story. One night she drove me home, and things got hot and heavy in the car. Its funny, but I think Isobel suspected something right from the very beginning. As I look back at it, she must have known someone at the restaurant, another waitress maybe. The night of the car incident, she confronted me…and hit me. She didnt really seem angry, she just did it in her usual cold and impersonal way. But I suppose she was angry, and I guess I brought it on myself.”
Agnes stopped, her mouth flew open in amazement. “My God! Thats exactly what these women say who come here. Word for word. I cant believe I still feel that way after all this time.”
Where she had been speaking very slowly before, the words now came out in a torrent. “We kissed and made up, but Isobel became insanely jealous. She wanted me to quit work, but I wouldnt. There were more fights, and she beat mebadly. Even then, I would probably have hung on except she started going out with men. One of them was the man she later married…a politician named Kim. So it really wasnt the battering, it was her shift away from interest in me which sent me off to the womens crisis clinic in Honolulu. I was completely shatteredemotionally.
“Its hard to believe now, looking back at it. But I thought the world had come to an end. I tried to commit suicide. The only thing that saved me was the woman in charge of the clinic. She wasnt gay, by the way. She was just the most bighearted person Ive ever encountered. I guess she became my role model. I stayed there and worked for them. The pay was minimal, but Ive never been much into money. Then, about six years ago, I heard about this job. The woman I was living with at the time, and still am, had a chance to come over here too. So we made the move.”
“Did you ever meet Isobel again?”
Agnes nodded. “Funny, but I thought Id never be able to see her without having all of the past, all the love and hatred and fear and ambivalence well up and overwhelm me if I ever ran into her. Actually, it wasnt like that at all. We met one dayabout six or seven months agoin Uchimas market, for the first time since the break-up. We stopped and talked for a few minutes. I wouldnt have recognized her if she werent so tall and distinctive. In fact, I think she didnt recognize me at all until I started sp
eaking to her. And that was it. I doubt she had any more reaction to me than I did to her.
“So I cant tell you if shes still gay or bi or straight or nothing at all. I know I haven't been much help.”
“Not at all,” Kay said, “You've really been a lot of help.”
Sid wondered how much truth there was to what Kay was saying.
Chapter 15
It wasnt until they were sitting in their car eating a hasty lunch of burritos at a nearby drive-in before Sid mentioned his planned afternoon meeting with Joe Demos.
“What are you going to ask him?” Kay said, as she coaxed more sauce out of the small plastic bag.
“I have no idea. I never remember being so atsea as I am in this case. Ive had plenty of clients who lied when they said they were innocent, but Ive never had one before who lied when he said he was guilty. Any suggestions?”
Kay managed to catch a sudden dribble of sauce from her burrito in a scanty paper napkin. Shifting her concentration back to what Sid was saying, “Its obvious you won't be able to make him change his story, so well have to find out more about what happened, in spite of him.”
Sid finally gave up on the last unmanageable piece of his lunch and crammed the rather large chunk into his mouth. It took him moments to recover from the effects of the hot sauce. When he did so, he managed to ask, in a choking whisper, “How do you plan to do that?”
The Yoshinobu Mysteries: Volume 2 Page 64