“No, ma’am. Not without authorization.”
“Would you call Detective Bardon? Please?”
She could tell by his expression he was wavering, so she turned up the heat.
“It’s really, really important that I get up there.”
He pulled his two-way radio off his belt and clicked it on. His rapid fire pidgin was almost unintelligible, but she heard enough to know he’d asked if he could escort the blonde haole lady with the Kauai guy upstairs.
She heard Bardon loud and clear when he answered no.
The officer clipped his radio on again and shrugged. “Sorry.”
“We tried. Mahalo.”
Em wandered over to a low wooden bench and sat down. She thought about crowding to the front of the line and charging a ticket to anywhere just to get upstairs but then thought better of it. Last minute ticket, one way, no bags, traveling alone. Bad idea. With her luck she’d get flagged as a terrorist.
A party of eight tourists with enough bags to field a safari for a month rumbled by. She was always amazed by how much stuff people thought they had to take on vacation. Then again, the Hula Maidens not only packed flowers, frozen fish, and poi but costume changes for impromptu appearances.
Em was wondering how long she’d have to sit and cool her heels when her cell suddenly vibrated. It caught her unaware, and she nearly fell off the bench. It was Roland.
“We have her,” he said. “We’re on the way down.”
Em worked her way over to the interior exit from the upper level and waited. Within three minutes she saw Felicity walking between Roland and Bardon as they escorted her through the glass doors and into the main lobby.
As much as she would have loved to have seen Felicity in handcuffs, she wasn’t cuffed. She was only going in for questioning, but as far as Em was concerned, the woman was as guilty as hell. Why else would she have lied about leaving the Moana the night Phillip was murdered? Em very much doubted Felicity had run out to an ABC Store for some last minute necessity. Besides, when she’d returned to the suite she hadn’t been carrying anything but her purse and a key card.
She was staring straight ahead. Even with sunglasses on, even flanked by two detectives, Felicity gave off an aura of hautiness. Without thinking, Em stepped right in front of the trio and they were forced to stop. When Felicity recognized Em she couldn’t hide her anger. She looked down her nose at Em, and her posture stiffened.
“Em.” Roland’s tone held a warning.
Em was too upset to listen. “You lied when you said you hadn’t left the hotel the night of Phillip’s murder.”
“I didn’t lie.”
“You left Hasigawa’s suite that night,” Em said.
“I went to my room.”
“That’s easy enough to prove on the video surveillance, but we both know that’s a lie.”
“Em . . .” Roland said again.
Bardon took a hold of Felicity’s elbow as if to steer her past Em, but Felicity shook him loose. That obviously didn’t sit well with the detective.
“You wanted revenge because Phillip conned you into believing he was wealthy, because you were humiliated and embarrassed. Phillip was a player and a liar, but he didn’t deserve to die.”
“What makes you think I hated him enough to shoot him through the heart?” She faced Bardon, made certain her fake breasts were front and center and pointed at Em. “She had more reason to want him dead than I did.”
Bardon reached for the cuffs in his back pocket and in a split second snapped them around Felicity’s wrists.
“Felicity Duncan, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”
“What are you doing?” Felicity tried to tug her hands free, but it was too late. Roland held her firmly by one elbow as Bardon took hold of the other. “What’s going on? Why are you doing this? I thought you were only taking me in for questioning.”
“We’ve never publicized that Phillip Johnson was shot in the heart, just that he died of a gunshot wound.”
“Let me go!” Felicity cried. “I’m calling a lawyer. We’ll see about this. I’m calling my lawyer. I’ll sue this city for every penny I can get. I’m innocent.”
“That’s what they all say,” Bardon said. He nodded to Em, and she took it as a compliment. At least he wasn’t frowning for a change.
“Mahalo, Ms. Johnson,” he said.
“My pleasure, Detective. I had to get myself off your persons of interest list so that I can go home.”
He actually smiled. “Just to be on the safe side, I’d say you will probably be able to leave by tomorrow afternoon at least. Will you spend one more night here in Honolulu?”
She glanced at Roland. He looked perfectly happy about her staying another night. Suddenly the inconvenience seemed worth it.
“Sure. You have my cell number,” she said.
Bardon pulled Felicity toward the exit. Roland hung back with Em.
“You have to go to the station with him,” she said. “I’d give anything to hear what Felicity says. You can tell me later.”
“How will you get back to the hotel?”
“Believe it or not, I’m a college graduate. I know how to catch a cab. There are plenty lined up outside.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m positive.”
She thought for a minute he was going to kiss her goodbye. There were still officers milling about in the lobby and beyond the front door, so she urged him to go.
Just as the doors closed behind him, her cell vibrated again. This time it was Louie.
“Em!” He sounded as if he were in a crowd. “Where are you?”
“Right now I’m at the airport, in the United Terminal.”
“We checked out of the hotel, everyone but Kiki and Pat, that is. A detective called and told them to stay over tonight just in case he needed another statement.”
“Same with me. Hopefully we’ll all be home tomorrow sometime.”
“What are you doing at United?”
“It’s a long story. Where are you?” she asked.
“We’re at the Hawaiian terminal waiting in the TSA line. It snakes all the way out the front door.”
“I’ll walk over and say goodbye.” She hung up and hurried outside.
47
BUSSES, CARS, TAXIS, and vans circled the airport beneath the concrete overpass in a never-ending dance as they dropped off departing passengers and picked up new arrivals.
Em spotted Louie and the Maidens once she crossed over from the mainland and international flight terminals to Inter-island. The gals were all wearing their “YES! We are the Hula Maidens” T-shirts while standing in a long TSA line inching its way toward the terminal doors.
Precious was perched on her new tiki. Big Estelle was fanning herself with a woven lau hala fan. Little Estelle was on her Gadabout busy scribbling in a composition notebook while Trish moved up and down the line documenting their departure with her camera. Suzi sat in a wheelchair with her crutches resting across the arms of the chair. Lillian was digging in her purse, completely oblivious to what was going on.
As Em drew closer she noticed that Louie was holding his Golden Swizzle Stick trophy. A small group of fans had gathered to stare at the Maidens. People passing by snapped phone photos. Occasionally someone asked for autographs.
Em walked up and gave Louie a hug and wished she could fly home with them. “Where’s the cooler?” She looked at the heap of baggage around them.
“Pat and Kiki will bring it back.” Louie’s brow wrinkled. “What if they don’t clear your name by tomorrow? What if they lock you up?”
“They
’re not going to lock me up,” she assured him. “There’s been a late-breaking development.”
“Bautista confessed?”
The others heard him and turned around.
“No. Another suspect has been apprehended. The authorities are confident it’s the murderer this time.” If they weren’t, she was.
“We sat on Bautista for nothing?” Big Estelle snorted.
“Most likely,” Em said.
“The paper said he had three broken ribs. How does that make you feel, Big Estelle?” Trish wanted to know.
“Darned proud. He might not be a murderer, but he stole Louie’s Booze Bible. He should have to pay.”
“Actually, he stole it from the thief,” Em said.
“Speaking of my notebook, I’d sure appreciate it if you could get it back before you come home, Em,” Louie said.
“That’s probably impossible, but I’ll do what I can.”
“Is Roland staying over too?” Precious asked.
“Yes. He’s at the interrogation right now.” Em felt herself blushing. Thankfully no one but Louie seemed to notice. He winked at her.
“I sure hope you find a room,” he said.
“I have one. I made a reservation this morning before I joined you for brunch.” She didn’t add that if she got a better invitation she still had time to cancel it.
The line moved a foot, and so they scooted their bags along the walkway. Late Sunday afternoons when locals were heading home from visits to the outer islands were the worst time for interisland flights.
“You don’t have to wait with us,” Louie said. “Go on back to the Hilton, and maybe you can get a swim in.”
Nothing would be better. A dunk in salt water was the perfect way for her to rejuvenate. She pictured herself floating in the Pacific thinking about Felicity Duncan behind bars. Em was about to tell him that was a great idea when the image of the Hilton pools and gardens flashed through her mind, and she thought of Alphonse swinging through the palms.
“Louie! What about the monkey? Did anyone ever round him up so you could return it?”
“I did.” Little Estelle looked up from her notebook.
“You did?” Em stared down at her. “Was it easy?”
“Sure, it was easy. He never missed a wedding reception, so all I did was figure out what all those receptions had in common.”
“Besides Japanese brides and grooms,” Precious laughed.
“Champagne and sushi,” Little Estelle said. “And cake.”
Big Estelle explained. “We all went down to the Hilton Hau Tree Bar. It’s on the beach right out in the open.”
“I remember,” Em said. “Where you were arrested that first night.”
“Either management is a lot more mellow on Sunday afternoons, or the online petition worked. Anyway, we took the cage along. The Kamakanis started playing the “Hawaiian Wedding Song” over and over, and sure enough, pretty soon we spotted Alphonse in the trees overhead, listening. We ordered a plate of sushi and slid it into the cage and left the door open.”
“Alphonse was hanging out right over our heads,” Little Estelle added. “We bought some champagne, some dessert cake, and made a big deal of the wedding song. We popped the champagne, filled a plastic cup, and slid it in the cage with the sushi and cake.”
Precious added, “I was hiding under the table next to the cage.”
“We waited and waited and pretended to be partying,” Lillian said.
“Pretended?” Big Estelle laughed.
“Pretty soon Alphonse sneaked down and darted into the cage, and Precious slammed the door shut.” Little Estelle brushed her hands together as if brushing off sand. “Voila! One manic monkey to go.”
48
EM HUGGED THEM all goodbye, said she’d see them on Kauai, and caught a cab back to the Hilton. Phillip was dead—may he rest in peace—his murderer was hopefully confessing at that very moment, and all Em wanted was to live the dream pictured on Waikiki postcards. She wanted to experience the balmy trade winds, salt water drying on her skin, a beach towel on the sand, and a frothy cocktail in her hand.
She collected her carry-on from the porter and headed for her new room to change into her swimsuit. There wasn’t a Shriner or a fez in sight. They’d departed as fast as they’d descended. Hilton handymen were hanging a new banner near the bar: WELCOME PACIFIC INK ARTISTS. She pictured a gala art show in the lobby until a man literally covered in tattoos strolled by, and she realized what “ink” artists were.
She decided the hotel business wasn’t that different from running the Goddess. The one constant was the tourists who kept coming and going. Every day there were new faces, new experiences, and behind the scenes the staff and the loyal locals made the place what it was.
She was on the beach in record time. She swam out through the smaller surf, bobbed around in the salty water, and floated around on her back staring up at the clouds until all the tension soaked out of her and she decided on a thick, yummy Danno Bannao cocktail.
The sun was warm, the trades gentle, and the tropical concoction worked its magic. Em stretched out on her beach towel and fell asleep to the sound of the waves underscoring the sound of kids squealing the first time they ever dipped their toes into the ocean.
When she opened her eyes, Roland was sitting beside her in the sand. Her sunglasses hid the fact that she was awake, so she enjoyed watching him without his knowing until she couldn’t wait to hear what happened at police headquarters any longer. She stretched, sat up, and shook out her hair. It was almost dry.
The sun was low in the sky. Sunset wasn’t far away. He’d been gone three hours.
“Please tell me Felicity confessed,” she said.
“Finally. She shot him, but claims it was in self-defense.”
“What do you think?”
He shrugged. “Her story made sense, but she’s had time to figure it all out. It’ll be up to a jury to decide if they believe it or not. Bottom line is she won’t be running around free any time soon.”
“I hope she looks good in orange. Details, please.”
“After he left the Moana Phillip kept texting her incessantly. He said he had to see her. He wanted her to hear him out. He threatened to go back to the Moana and make a stink until she listened to him. She didn’t want to blow her chances with Hasigawa, figured he was good for some gifts and jewelry in exchange for her time, so she slipped a sedative in his drink. She exited out the side entrance at midnight and walked next door to catch a cab.”
“Smart.”
“Right, none of the valets saw her leave the hotel.”
“She got to Phillip’s place, saw where he was living, and realized he was more desperate than she’d suspected. He tried to convince her that he was coming into a hundred thousand right away, and he’d be back on his feet in no time.”
“The extortion money.”
“Right. In the meantime, while he’s talking, she notices a gun on the table and a letter beside it. She thought he might be contemplating suicide and started to feel sorry for him and asked about the gun. He told her it was for protection and that he’d been in a beef with one of the neighbors already. Then she took a look at the letter and saw that he’d written it to you, declaring he still loved you. She blew.”
“She was mad enough to shoot him?”
“No, but she was furious. Called him a bastard. He said he was desperate, and you were his last option if she didn’t help him out. He had nothing left after spending everything to impress her. He was up to his eyeballs in debt.”
“I knew that letter was a lie. He wasn’t in love with me, and he hadn’t been looking at me as if he was in the restaurant that day, either. Why would she say that?”
“To put the blame on you and take the heat off of her. She knew
the letter would be found in the apartment with the body.”
“So she did go there to kill him.”
He shook his head. “No. Everything went down when she tried to leave. Phillip got between her and the door and demanded she give him back the engagement ring so he could pay off some of his debt. He said that was the least she could do and reminded her that she broke up with him.
“She told him to get out of the way, that she was leaving. He said he’d take the ring if she didn’t hand it over. She grabbed the gun off the table and told him to move. He wouldn’t. His anger escalated. She was frightened. He took a threatening step, and she shot him.”
“Through the heart? What are the chances?”
“At a close enough range, better than you’d think.”
“If it was self-defense, her mistakes were not calling the police, wiping off the gun, and fleeing the scene. She ran a couple of blocks over to a busy corner, caught a cab, and walked back into the Moana. More video tapes will provide the time line. If she’d have reported the shooting and claimed self-defense at the scene then her fate wouldn’t be in the hands of a jury.”
Em sighed. “Only she knows if she acted in self-defense or if she walked in, saw his gun, and decided to pay him back for what he did to her.”
“She could get off, you know. A beautiful young woman, a few alligator tears, and she walks.”
“I know.” Em took a deep breath, stared at the ocean, and let it out. “But at least she’s admitted she shot him. What happened to Bautista?”
“He’ll probably get off with probation since he has no record. Not even driving citations. According to Bardon, Bautista figured he wasn’t actually stealing the notebook. Phillip didn’t need it anymore.”
“So I’m free to go home?” She’d never felt so relieved.
He looked at his watch. “If you want to catch the last flight to Kauai we could probably make it happen. By the way, Bardon had me call Kiki and tell her she and Pat could take off if they wanted. She said they were going to scramble to get on stand-by and said to tell you goodbye.”
Too Hot Four Hula: 4 (The Tiki Goddess Mystery Series) Page 27