by JoAnn Ross
“Not a damned thing,” he muttered. “It appears the aloha spirit hasn’t quite reached The Blue Parrot. At least not when it comes to a mainlander.”
“Haole,” she murmured. “Perhaps I can help.”
Before Donovan could stop her, Lani slid off the stool and made her way to the end of the bar, where a group of dockworkers were standing in front of a flat-screen, playing a video game that appeared to involve a great deal of gratuitous violence.
“Hey, brah,” she said in a silky, sultry voice that made Donovan, as he came up behind her, want to drag her right out of the bar. Now. “Any of you know where I can find da kine scuba man, Ford Britton? Haole here wanna take diving lessons.” She jerked her tawny head in Donovan’s direction.
“Wasetime to look for him here,” an affable giant with arms the size of tree trunks answered in the relaxed pidgin English Donovan had been hearing since entering the bar. “Mo’ betta you find his ipo, Wainani… girlfriend,” he elaborated for Donovan’s benefit.
“Taylor Young’s scuba man’s ipo,” Lani corrected.
“Scuba man been makin’ fastime with a new ipo,” the man insisted. “Dat lady got mo’ dolla than can count. Scuba man buy drinks for the house udda day. He say by’m’by he be a fucking rich man.”
Lani couldn’t believe Ford would leave Taylor for another woman. Even a rich one. “ Mahalo ,” she murmured absently as she considered this new aspect of Ford’s disappearance.
As the man’s dark eyes skimmed down Lani’s body with unmistakable interest, Donovan slipped a folded bill into the pocket of the dock worker’s flowered shirt. “Thanks,” he said.
After checking out the denomination of the bill, the man’s face lit up in a broad grin that was missing a front tooth. “Hey, brah, mahalo yourself.”
When he noticed two guys at a nearby table watching them closely, Donovan grasped Lani’s bare upper arm. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s time to go.”
“But I haven’t finished my drink.”
“Yes, you have.”
“Really, Donovan,” she complained as she found herself being unceremoniously hauled out of the waterfront bar. “Has anyone ever told you that you can be very bossy?”
“All the time. And I do my best to live up to it. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get out of here before those Feds come to the mistaken conclusion that we know more about all this than we do.”
“Feds?” Lani looked back toward The Blue Parrot as Donovan practically dragged her across the parking lot. “As in FBI?”
“Not the IRS,” he agreed grimly. “Although at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that they had a hand in all this, too.”
“Had a hand in what?” Lani asked, clearly confused.
“Give me the keys to the Jeep. We’ll come back for the rental car later.”
“Okay,” she murmured distractedly as she dug the key ring out of her purse. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” he said as he shoved her ungently into the Jeep. “But I’m sure as hell going to find out.”
They drove for a while in silence, immersed in thought.
“By the way,” Donovan asked, “where the hell did you get that dress?”
Lani smoothed the skirt of the red sarong-style strapless dress that could have been sprayed on. “I borrowed it from a friend who dances in a show at one of the resorts on Maui. I didn’t have anything that looked appropriate for a place like The Blue Parrot,” she added as an afterthought.
“That’s a relief.”
“What’s the matter? Don’t you like it?”
“You look freaking amazing. Even if you did look as if you were trolling for Johns,” he tacked on. “The guy sitting next to me practically fell off his stool when you strolled in the door.”
Lani’s face lit up with a bright smile. “Why, Donovan Quinn, I do believe that you’re jealous.”
“I just don’t like you looking like the sort of woman who belongs in that kind of place,” he muttered.
She leaned over, running her fingers through his hair. “Hey, brah,” she murmured silkily into his ear, “you wanna come over to my place, find out da kine woman you got?”
Donovan caved, as she’d known he would. He ran his hand up the long expanse of leg bared by the deep slit in her skirt. “Lady,” he growled seductively, “thassa mo’ betta offer than I get all day.”
18
“It’s a boat,” Donovan said suddenly as he and Lani lay together, arms and legs tangled, in her bed after having, what she’d assured him, was primo, number-one sex.
He’d also discovered that the Hawaiian pidgin could sound really sexy coming from those luscious lips, especially when she used dirty words that didn’t need any translation.
It was the first time they’d been together in her place and the minute he’d walked into the beach house, he’d decided it definitely suited her. The bleached wood floor reflected the light of the Orchid Island sun, bathing everything in a warm yellow glow. The furniture was light and airy white wicker and rattan, the cushion covers printed with a brilliant tropical print.
Flowers were everywhere—scarlet and gold hibiscus blossoms floated in a pair of bright blue ceramic bowls, and branches of purple bougainvillea and snowy-white oleander were stuck haphazardly into colored, one-of-a-kind bottles. On the sunshine-yellow walls, a veritable garden of oversize tropical flower prints bloomed within the borders of narrow aluminum frames.
The entire atmosphere in the small house—the furniture, the flowers, the whimsical goddess figurine made from the leaves of the hala tree—was as free-spirited and unpretentious as its owner. As different as it was from his modernistic Portland apartment, Donovan was surprised to find himself feeling at home.
“What’s a boat?” Lani asked, snuggling up against him, her head on his chest.
“ Wainani . She’s not Britton’s new girlfriend. She’s a damned boat.”
She looked up at him. “How on earth did you come to that conclusion?”
“It only makes sense,” he argued. “Look, he’s a scuba diver, right?”
She nodded. “Right.”
“And he knows these waters pretty damned well.”
“Like the back of his hand.”
“Let’s say, just for argument’s sake, that while he’s out diving one day, he runs across a sunken wreck.”
“One with treasure on it,” Lani said, warming to the idea.
“Exactly. So he concocts a plan to get the loot off the boat without anyone knowing.”
“But Taylor finds out and turns him in to the FBI?” she asked skeptically. “I’ll admit she appears to be lying about what she knows about all this, but a woman can tell when another woman’s in love. And Taylor is definitely in love with Ford. She’d never do anything that would risk getting him arrested. No matter what he’d done.”
Lani shook her head firmly. “I’m sorry, but that piece just doesn’t fit at all, Donovan.”
“Sure it does.” As his eyes gleamed with enthusiasm, Lani decided that she loved watching Donovan’s detective mind work. “Let’s assume that Britton told Taylor about the ship,” he continued patiently. “Or that she got suspicious enough about all his absences to break things off.”
“She told me she’d considered calling off the wedding,” Lani allowed.
“Which underscores my point. So, taking the matter one step further, let’s also suppose that the cargo, whatever it is, belongs to the U.S. government.”
“All right. So far I’m with you, but…”
Lani’s voice trailed off as comprehension suddenly dawned. This must be like how Nate felt when he was plotting a book. “Next chapter…
“Since Taylor loves Ford, she doesn’t want him to go to prison. So, without telling him what she’s doing, she goes to Oahu to talk to the FBI, and without giving any details, trie
s to find out if they’d be willing to pay a reward.”
“A finder’s fee,” Donovan agreed. “That way—”
“Ford gets more money than he’d make in several lifetimes with that diving business of his, he stays out of jail, he and Taylor get married, and both of them live happily ever after,” Lani said.
“That’s a workable scenario. It would also explain why she never contacted the local police yesterday,” Donovan agreed. “She’s obviously trying to protect him and figured the Feds pull more weight.”
That last was certainly unwelcome news to Lani. “Taylor didn’t contact the police?”
“Nope. Chief Kanualu didn’t know anything about the vandalism.”
“Yet another piece of the puzzle pointing to Taylor knowing what’s going on,” Lani admitted reluctantly. “But I still don’t believe she knows what’s happened to Ford. Otherwise, why would she involve you? And go to the FBI?”
“Good question.” He reluctantly pushed aside the top sheet that was barely covering her tan body. “Come on, sweetheart, we’re wasting time. Let’s go check the harbor records.”
“For sunken ships?”
He ruffled her hair with an easy familiarity. “You are not only one drop-dead sexy wahine, you plenny primo detective, Lani Breslin.”
* * *
“Where did I ever get the idea that police work was exciting?” Lani complained on their second day of searching through the stacks of leather-bound journals, seeking some record of the Wainani . Unfortunately, Orchid Island hadn’t yet digitized all their records, which dated back to the 1700s.
“Despite what you’ve seen on television, most of it is painstaking detail work,” Donovan said. “Like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack.”
“Well, we couldn’t have found a dustier haystack if we’d tried,” she complained, wiping at a smudge on her pink T-shirt. “Whatever happened to the computer age?”
“You’re the one who pointed out that things are a little slower here,” he reminded her as he skimmed through yet another thick journal.
“I know.” Lani sighed. “But it seems so hopeless, Donovan. What if it turns out that the Wainani isn’t a boat, after all? We will have wasted two valuable days of your vacation.”
“It’s a boat,” he reassured her confidently. “And as for my vacation, I’d never consider any time spent with you wasted.”
She managed a weak smile. “Sometimes you can say the nicest things. Thank you. I needed that right now.”
She sounded tired and uncharacteristically discouraged. Reminding himself that Lani was not used to spending her days in dingy basement storage rooms, searching for the single key that might unlock an entire case, Donovan put the heavy book aside and went over to her.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you look terrific with dirt on your cheeks?” he asked as he ran his knuckles over her cheekbone.
“You’re just prejudiced.”
“Probably so,” he agreed easily. “But you still look gorgeous in dirt.”
“If you find this appealing, you should see me covered in mud.”
A flame sparked in Donovan’s dark blue eyes. “Now that’s an interesting idea. Have you ever considered taking up mud wrestling?”
She arched a brow. “With you?”
He bent his head to kiss her. “Of course. You don’t think I’d let you go rolling around in the mud with anyone else, do you?”
“Mud’s awfully messy,” she murmured as his lips brushed enticingly over hers.
“I know. That’s precisely why it’s supposed to be fun. And why guys like it.”
When she tilted her head back to look up at him, the familiar dancing light was back in her eyes. “And exactly who’s going to clean up all the muck afterward?”
Donovan laughed. “There you go again, revealing that surprising practical streak,” he complained good-naturedly. “Want to go home and take a long shower for two?”
She twined her hands around his neck. “Funny you should bring that up. I was just thinking the same thing.”
Feeling the now-familiar stir of desire, Donovan kissed her long and lingeringly. “Later,” he said reluctantly.
“Later,” she agreed with a lack of enthusiasm that mirrored his own.
They had been back at work for less than ten minutes when Lani found it.
“Donovan!” she called out excitedly. “Here it is! The Wainani ! She went down in a tropical storm nearly fifty years ago on a trip from Oahu to Orchid Island. You were right.”
“So she was a cargo barge,” he read over her shoulder. “Let’s see what’s on the manifest.”
“Just the usual,” she murmured, reading through the lengthy list. “Tools, hardware, cars—” As she turned the page, Lani drew in a sharp breath. “And the sugar cooperative’s monthly payroll in the vault!”
“The cooperative shipped two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash?”
“It wasn’t all that unusual,” she explained. “The workers, many of whom were transitory, didn’t really trust banks. Most of them preferred to get their pay in cash. And continued to until after 9/11, when the island tax department got stricter and started cracking down on untraceable payments.”
“No wonder Britton was jazzed,” Donovan mused. “A quarter of a million tax-free dollars, while not exactly the kind of loot that was on the Titanic, would still make a nice nest egg for anyone to start a marriage with.” He frowned as he continued to read the record. “This is interesting.”
“What?”
“The Coast Guard received a distress signal right before the Wainani went down.”
“What’s so unusual about that?” Lani questioned. “They probably receive a lot of SOS calls during storms.”
“Probably do,” he agreed. “But how many of those ships do you think report that they’re being boarded by pirates?”
“Seriously?” Every vestige of fatigue vanished as Lani’s eyes filled with excitement. “Pirates?”
“Pirates. But don’t get that excited because I seriously doubt we’re talking Captain Jack Sparrow… It’s time we had another little talk with Taylor.”
“This is getting more thrilling by the minute,” Lani said as they returned up the coast. “Imagine the Wainani being boarded by pirates only minutes before it went down with all that cash on board!”
“Now all we have to do is find out who hired the pirates.”
She glanced over at him. “And you can do that, can’t you, Donovan?”
He grinned as he patted her thigh. “Piece of cake.”
Her face was flushed, her eyes bright, reminding him of the way she looked when they were making love. Although Donovan had been dragged into this case, he wasn’t feeling so bad himself.
After being cooped up behind a desk for so many years, coming in after crimes had been committed, he’d forgotten the thrill of the chase. Only two things dampened his enthusiasm: the first being that he still didn’t have a clue as to Britton’s whereabouts and the second was the nondescript sedan that had been following them all day. A quick glance in the rearview mirror confirmed that it was still there.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“It seems Dempsey knew a lot more than he admitted to me,” he said. “Because we’ve been followed all day.”
“By the FBI?”
“Hopefully. And don’t turn around,” he said when she began to shift in the seat. “I’d rather it be the Feds than whoever’s after Britton.”
* * *
“Pirates?” Taylor stared at Donovan as if he’d suddenly started speaking Martian. “The Wainani went down with pirates on board?”
“The fact that you know the name of the ship suggests you also know what your fiancé’s been up to,” Donovan said.
“Only some of it,” Taylor insisted. �
�I knew he’d found the ship and intended to salvage it. But I didn’t know anything about pirates. And I certainly don’t know where he is! Pirates?”
The last was said with a wail, and her hands shook as she attempted to light a cigarette. She’d finally managed to quit last year, but Lani decided it wasn’t surprising that this situation would have kick-started the habit again.
“Here,” Donovan said, taking the matches from her hand. “Let me.”
Taylor gave him an appreciative look as she inhaled deeply. “I was afraid you’d find out about the Wainani ,” she said on a flat voice. “Especially after Lani told me all about you being recruited for the FBI.”
“I thought you wanted Donovan to find Ford,” Lani objected.
“I did. Because I was getting desperate. He was my only hope. I just didn’t want him to find out about the Wainani at the same time.”
Lani was clearly confused. “Why? Surely you don’t think Donovan would steal the money?”
“Of course not.” Taylor was on her feet, pacing nervously back and forth across the floor of the candy shop that looked a lot tidier than it had just two days ago. She’d locked the door and turned over the Closed sign as soon as they’d arrived. “But I was afraid if he knew what Ford intended to do, he’d arrest him.”
“My jurisdiction doesn’t cover Orchid Island,” Donovan pointed out.
“So?” She shot him the stink eye. “All you’d have to do is tell Chief Kanualu what you know, and Ford could end up in jail.”
“Donovan wouldn’t do that,” Lani said quickly. “Would you, Donovan?”
“I’m a lot more interested in keeping the guy alive than in putting him behind bars,” he confirmed. “Speaking of which, what, exactly, did you tell the Feds?”
“I didn’t think you’d bought that story about the hookup,” Taylor admitted. “I knew it wasn’t very convincing, but I had to make up the story on the spot. How was I to know that you’d find out I’d been to Agent Dempsey’s office?”
“I told you he was brilliant,” Lani put in.