“I can’t confirm or deny that.”
“Thanks, Mara. I understand.”
I ended the call and turned to Alana.
“Did you hear all that?” I asked.
“Everything. You think the new will is legit?”
“I’d say yes, or at least it initially appears that way to Mara, and I’m sure it caught her completely by surprise.”
“If it’s real, when did it get made?” Alana asked.
“Better yet, why did it get made? When I met with Charlotte Chambers and Mara, she told me she had to know who had threatened her because she didn’t want to leave them anything.”
“Does that mean she thought both Mill and Bethany were behind the letters?”
“She was gone all day after we left her house. Maybe she figured something out.”
“And got killed for it,” Alana said.
“Does that mean we scratch Joe Chambers off the list?” I asked.
“I’m not willing to take anyone off the list, not yet.”
“What’s next then?”
“The funeral is tomorrow. Is that right?” Alana asked.
“I think so.”
“Theoretically everyone will be there interacting with each other.”
“So we wait for the new will to emerge so Mill and Bethany can shit their pants. Is that how Joe put it?” I asked.
“I believe so, but will Joe even show up tomorrow? The guy seemed pretty out of it.”
“I’d say yes. He seems to really have cared for his mother. Plus, I think he can’t wait to shock Mill.”
“You think he’d do it at a funeral?” Alana asked.
I didn’t answer her. I was too busy thinking about Joe going to see Mara Winters and presenting her with a new will. His mother wasn’t even in the ground yet, and he was already laying claim to her money and property.
Chapter 7
Funerals, Fights, and Cheap Scotch
There was a huge turnout for the funeral, as I expected there would be. The sun was shining, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was a hot day, which felt even hotter since I was dressed in a dark suit. I’d brought it with me from Virginia. At the time, I felt rather silly for packing it. Foxx had told me khaki pants and a collared shirt were considered dressing up by Hawaiian standards. I’d paid a decent amount of money for the suit, though, so I didn’t want to just give it away. I figured it would sit in the back of my closet at Foxx’s house and might not ever make its way out of the dry cleaner’s plastic bag. Here I was, though, pulling it out just a few months after moving to Maui.
I went to the funeral by myself. Alana didn’t think it appropriate to mourn with the family when she was about to launch a full-scale investigation into those very same people.
I usually drove with the top down, but I decided to put it up and crank the air conditioner. It broke after blowing somewhat-cool air for a couple of minutes. I wasn’t sure if I’d be somewhat cooler by keeping the top up to keep the sun off of me, or if the air flow from the top down would be better. Unfortunately, I was sitting in the long, slow funeral procession. There wasn’t going to be much airflow today.
We all parked on the side of the main road that ran through the center of the cemetery. I got out of the car and walked to the burial plot. The funeral home had put up a small tent for the immediate family. Friends and acquaintances stood behind them. I stayed on the outskirts of the group. I was barely close enough to hear the minister.
I walked to the side of the crowd, so I could get a closer look at the family. I saw two young men sitting beside Mill and Jen. It was obvious they were their identical twin sons. One of them wore a black suit and the other was in a dark blue one. That was the only difference I could tell between them.
There was a woman, about my age, maybe a few years older, who sat beside Bethany and Barry Williams. I guessed she was their daughter, Olivia.
Joe Chambers sat beside Olivia on one the end of the front row. I knew he didn’t have any children, and he hadn’t brought anyone with him, at least no one he felt needed to sit with the family. I didn’t know if it was obvious Joe was the outcast, or if I just had that impression because of what he’d told me during our interview the day before.
The minister was an older man, maybe in his early seventies. He spoke of Charlotte Chambers in general terms. The comments seemed taken out of some funeral-service template book. I guessed he didn’t really know her. I wasn’t sure if she’d been a religious person or not. It’s possible he hadn’t even met her before.
After the funeral, I drove to the Chambers Hotel for the wake. They held it in a large ballroom just off the lobby. It was a practical choice in terms of parking and size, but I wasn’t sure how the vacationing guests would respond. Who wants to walk past a massive group of mourners all clad in black as you make your way to the pool to sunbathe and drink a pina colada?
I walked around the ballroom for several minutes and eventually ran into Patricia, Charlotte Chambers’ personal assistant. She was standing alone in the corner of the room.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
“Not well. I just can’t stop thinking about her. I still can’t believe it happened. Have the police made any progress?”
“Not that I know of. What are you going to do now?” I asked.
“Mill offered me a job here at the hotel, but I don’t think I’m going to take it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s in event planning, which I think I could handle. I certainly did enough of that for Mrs. Chambers to know what I’m doing, but I’m thinking of moving back to California.”
“I didn’t realize that was where you’re from,” I said.
“I grew up in southern California, but I came out to Maui a year ago with some friends. They eventually moved back, but I stayed since I had a good job with Mrs. Chambers.”
“Are you getting island fever?”
“Somewhat. I love Maui, but I’m a bit tired of the slow pace.”
“Is it okay if I ask you a few questions about Charlotte?”
“Sure.”
“I was just wondering if any of her children have keys to her house?”
“They all did. They would just let themselves in when they came to visit. Sometimes I’d turn around, and they’d be there in the room with me. It always kind of freaked me out.”
“Do you think it’s odd they wouldn’t knock?”
“Maybe not. I don’t knock when I go see my parents, but I grew up in the house my parents live in.”
“Did Charlotte drink wine every night before bed? I believe she told me that she did.”
“Every night and every day at lunch. She usually went through a bottle a day. She always had the same brand, too. She was never willing to try anything new. Some of the restaurants she frequented would stock that wine just for her. She’d even bring her own bottle if she didn’t think they had it.”
“Is it a safe bet then that all of her kids knew her favored wine?” I asked.
“I don’t see how they wouldn’t. Anyone who was around her for more than a day or two would have picked up on it.”
“Where did she get the wine? Did she buy it at the same store every time?”
“I would always buy it. I’d go grocery shopping for her once a week - Monday mornings. She’d make a list for me, and a case of the wine was always the first thing on the list.” Patricia laughed. “I told her I didn’t need a list. It was always the same things, but she always insisted on giving me one.”
“No family members ever showed up with a bottle?” I asked.
“Not that I ever saw. I guess that’s not good for me since the wine was supposedly drugged, and I’m the one who always bought it.”
She was right to a certain degree, but her alibi for the time of Charlotte’s death was solid. I never seriously suspected her anyway. She had nothing to gain from Charlotte’s murder.
“How was Mrs. Chambers when she returned to the house that day?”
/>
“Like I told you before, she seemed fine. She was in a bit of a bad mood, but she often seemed like that. The hotel really stressed her out.”
“Do you know why?” I asked.
“She’d always complain about how Mill and Bethany were running things. Actually, she never really complained to me directly. It was more like she was just talking to herself out loud, and I happened to hear.”
“What would she say about them?”
“That Mill didn’t know what he was doing, and Bethany couldn’t sell. She was always complaining about Bethany and Barry not booking enough events.”
“Did she ever talk to you about the offer she got on the hotel property?”
“No, I wasn’t even aware she’d received an offer until this mess happened.”
Patricia and I spoke for a few more minutes. I appreciated her willingness to help, but I didn’t learn anything new beyond the fact all of Charlotte Chambers’ children had a key to the house. It wasn’t like they really needed one to do the deed anyway. She would have undoubtedly let them inside.
I left Patricia and went to the bar to get a drink. I ordered a scotch on the rocks and nursed it as I made my way around the room. It was actually quite harsh and burned the back of my throat. I didn’t get a good look at the bottle when the bartender served, but I assumed they were serving the cheapest kind available. It was my own fault. Who orders scotch at a wake anyway?
I tried to make my way over to Mill and Jen or Bethany and Barry, but the four of them were constantly surrounded by well-wishers.
I finished about half of my drink and walked toward one of the corners of the room to place the glass on a large tray. I stood beside the tray for a few minutes and looked around the room until I spotted Joe Chambers talking to a thirty-something woman. She was dressed in a black dress that looked a bit on the tight and short side. It wasn’t exactly the most appropriate attire for a funeral. Joe whispered something in her ear and then walked away. I paused a moment and then approached her.
“Hello, I’m Poe. I’m a friend of Joe’s.”
“Hi, I’m Candi, with an i.
I paused a moment and then realized she was referring to her name ending with an i instead of a y. I wasn’t sure why she felt the need to point that out - but to each their own.
“How do you know Joe?” I asked.
“We’re dating,” she said.
“That’s nice,” I said.
She smiled.
“Terrible thing about his mother, isn’t it?” I asked.
“Yeah, it really sucks, but these things happen,” Candi said.
I’d probably have choked on my bad scotch if I’d still been drinking it.
“How long have you known Joe?” she asked.
“Not that long. I really just met him for the first time the other day. We met at his mother’s party.”
“You’re not really his friend then, are you?”
“No, I guess you could say we’re more acquaintances than anything else.”
Candi didn’t say anything, and we both reached that awkward point in the conversation where we were trying to figure out an escape route without being obvious.
“I was wondering, Candi, if it would be okay for me to get your phone number? There are a few questions I’d like to ask you, but this isn’t really the time or place.”
Candi looked for Joe, but he’d disappeared into the crowd. I wasn’t sure if she felt like she needed his approval before talking to me, but she told me her number, and I typed it into my phone.
“Give me a call anytime,” she said.
Then Candi walked away. I assumed she left to go find Joe. I thought about going back to the bar and getting another drink - maybe a beer this time - but I decided not to. I needed a clear head for the drive home. I was deeply depressed and had no idea how to proceed with the case.
I walked around the room some more and saw who I had assumed to be Olivia, the daughter of Bethany and Barry Williams. She looked nothing like her parents. Have you ever seen photos of models with their parents, and sometimes the models are quite striking while the parents’ looks leave a lot to be desired? A similar case could be made with Olivia’s beauty. Whereas Bethany and Barry were rather round and plain, Olivia was slender and stunning. She was talking to another woman. I walked up to her after the woman had left.
“Are you Olivia Williams?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“My name’s Poe. My condolences on your loss.”
“Thank you. How did you know my grandmother?”
“I worked briefly with her, but long enough to be impressed by her.”
Olivia nodded.
“I believe she mentioned to me that you were in the wedding-planning business. Is that correct?”
Before Olivia could answer, we heard a loud argument break out behind us. I turned and saw Mill Chambers shove his brother, Joe.
“You son of a bitch. You really think this is going to make a difference,” Mill yelled.
Mill snatched a piece of paper out of Joe’s hands and tore it in half.
“Go ahead. I made copies. You can’t tear them all up.” Joe said, and then he laughed. It was the same out-of-control laugh Alana and I had witnessed at his house.
Mill tossed the two torn pieces of paper to the ground.
“Shut up. Shut the hell up,” Mill ordered, but it only made Joe laugh even more.
I wondered if Joe was drunk at the wake. Based on the way he was acting, my guess was yes.
Mill pushed Joe a second time. This time Joe pushed back. Then Mill punched Joe in the face. It wasn’t a direct hit, and it didn’t knock Joe over. Joe tackled Mill, and they both fell to the ground. Jen screamed, at least I thought it was Jen.
Three guys, none of whom I recognized, got involved and tried to pull the two brothers apart. It was a pretty vicious fight. They were both really going for blood. I used the chaotic opportunity as a chance to take a sneak at the paper that was still on the ground. I grabbed both pieces and walked several feet away from the crowd. Fortunately, the tear was across the middle of the page, and it was fairly easy to read. It was a photocopy of the new will as I expected. It was only one paragraph long - Charlotte Chambers, being of sound mind, declares that all of her possessions go to her son Joe Chambers. This will is her final decree and replaces all other wills before it.
Charlotte’s signature was at the bottom, along with two witness signatures. I immediately recognized one of the witness’ names - Candi with an i.
Chapter 8
Candi with an i
I called Candi the morning after the funeral. I asked her if I could meet her, and she agreed. I called Alana to invite her to join me, but all I got was her voicemail. I left a message for her to call me and took off for Kihei.
Candi lived in an apartment complex a few miles from Joe’s house. If I had to rate the complex, I’d give it one star. It wasn’t a crack den by any means, but it wasn’t the kind of place I’d expect Joe Chambers to be visiting. On the other hand, drugs do have a way of bringing people from different economic backgrounds together - ah, drugs, the great equalizer.
I walked the stairs to the second floor and knocked on Candi’s door. She answered within a few seconds.
“Hey there,” she said.
It was difficult to keep my eyes from going directly to her chest. She was wearing all black, maybe she was still in mourning, but her black shorts were quite short, as was her tank top. The only way she could have flashed more cleavage was if she hadn’t been wearing a shirt at all.
I entered her apartment, and she led me over to a sofa. I sat down, and she sat beside me rather than the chair off to the side. The inside of the apartment was sparsely furnished, but it was clean - thank God.
“I was hoping you would call me,” she said.
“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” I said.
“I hate to do this, honey, but we need to get the money part out of the way. I charge two hund
red an hour.”
I almost burst out laughing. Candi with an i was a prostitute. How in the hell did I not see that? I felt like I was in a sitcom where two people have a colossal miscommunication and hilarious situations ensue.
“I’m afraid you’ve misinterpreted my intentions, or maybe I should have done a better job of explaining what I wanted,” I said.
“Are you into something weird?” she asked.
I paused for a second, wondering what “weird” things she thought I might be in to.
“I don’t think I’m into anything weird,” I said. “I actually didn’t come here for that. I’d like to ask you a few questions about Joe.”
“What? Is he in some kind of trouble?”
“Not that I know of.”
“You don’t find me attractive?” she asked, and she rubbed her hand across my leg.
I know those readers who read my first two tales are well aware of the fact I am always honest, perhaps too honest. Nevertheless, I’m not about to stop that habit now even if it causes me some embarrassment. To say I was not tempted by Candi would not be an accurate statement. The woman had an incredible body - one that she was showing off with a skimpy outfit - and she was rubbing my leg. A guy would have to be dead to not feel something. I must admit that I did feel a certain stirring. However, I managed to lift her hand off my leg and maintain my dignity.
“It’s not that. You’re quite stunning, but I am deeply in love with Alana Hu. I could never betray her.”
Candi said nothing. I knew she didn’t care one iota about my commitment to Alana, or any other woman for that matter. Right now, she was just thinking about the lost revenue and how quickly she could replace me with a real-paying customer.
“How about this? I feel quite bad for not making my trip here clearer. I’ll pay you fifty dollars to ask just a few questions.”
Candi hesitated and then said, “Let me see the money.”
Smart woman. I reached into my wallet and removed two twenties and a ten.
Blood like the Setting Sun: A Murder on Maui Mystery Page 8