by Kay Hadashi
“Bet what? I don’t need anything you have,” she said.
“Not need. More like want. I want that stupid gold medal of yours. If I win, you have to turn it over to me.”
Of everything she had accomplished in her life, Melanie’s Olympic gold medal was fairly far down the list. When she competed in the Olympics fifteen years before, she was past her prime and failed miserably in her two solo events. By a twist of fate, she was able to swim on a relay with the best American women, and they had barely eked out a win. That moment was so far from her memory that she hadn’t seen the medal in years and didn’t even know where it was.
But there was little chance of her losing that medal. She knew she could dogpaddle with cramps in both legs faster than he could swim downstream.
“And what are you putting up?” she asked.
He wiped the water from his face and pushed his curly hair back. “Whatever you want. I can say that because I know I’ll win.”
“Anything?”
“Anything,” he said.
“Okay. You have to quit coming to the pool. Forever.”
“What?” he asked.
“You heard me. No more cruising chicks at the pool.”
“What if I did? You’d beat me up?”
“As easy as that would be, I don’t need to resort to violence to hurt you, Andrew. All I have to do is start the rumor at the hospital that you lost a race to a girl.”
He looked away. “As if you’ve ever been a girl.”
Melanie stood to her full height, out of the water from the waist up. “Is there something not feminine about me, Andrew? Because I don’t recall you ever complaining during the heat of passion.”
He called her a name before pushing off the wall to start swimming. He bobbed to the surface and stopped to put his goggles over his eyes before swimming again.
“I have exactly two words for you, also, Andrew,” she said, restarting her workout. Once again, the butterfly trick worked and Andrew soon left.
After a long swim, she showered and dressed in her linen skirt and silk blouse and went to the resort near her home, with just enough time for a quiet walk. Strolling along the shaded walkways lined with bougainvillea and hibiscus, she gave Georgie a call.
“I just got home with Thérèse, Miss Kato. Sorry, Mrs. Kato. Or Doctor Kato?”
“Please call me Melanie. Everything is okay so far? You haven’t got lost?”
“Totally easier to drive here on Maui than in Honolulu. Only one way to get anywhere. To take Thérèse to school, go to the ocean and turn left. To bring her home, go to the ocean and turn right. Pretty hard to f… Sorry. Mess that up. And before you ask, the baby and Thérèse are fine. Melanie, you don’t have to keep calling me. The kids are fine.”
Melanie knew she was being a nervous mother. She also knew Detective Nakatani wouldn’t have suggested his niece as her nanny if Georgie wasn’t responsible. “I guess.”
“Thérèse sure likes to sing, huh?”
Melanie followed the walkway into the bright sunshine. “Yes, but doesn’t know the words so well. We just let her make up her songs. Did she eat her lunch?”
“Her little lunch box is empty.”
“That’s something that needs to be checked before leaving home. She’s sneaky in being able to take her lunch out and pack toys in there. Half of them never come home again.”
“I found something in her pocket this morning. I wasn’t sure if she was allowed to take it with her, so I made her leave it at home.”
“That’s the right idea. Josh should be home soon and I’m sure he’ll run through a few rules.”
Even though she wanted to go check on the kids and make sure Georgie had them under control…or maybe it was a matter of checking to see if Georgie was under control of herself…Melanie knew she had only one afternoon that week to herself. Ending the call feeling somewhat satisfied her new nanny was keeping the kids out of trouble, she went to a familiar park bench with a view of the ocean framed by palm trees. It was also the same bench she’d been sitting on when she met the dead honeymooners.
“Mom, are you around?”
While Melanie waited for what might be nothing, she turned to face into the sun and picked the snags from her hair. That led to a lifelong nervous habit of forming a narrow braid, this one down one side in front of her ear.
“Mom, I really need to talk.”
Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she closed her eyes and let her cheeks soak up the sunshine. Soon, a gust of warm wind blew past her.
“What, Honey? It’s hard for me right now.”
There was nobody on the bench with her but her mother’s voice was loud and clear.
“We got a new nanny today. Just her first day but I think she’ll work out.”
“I noticed. You’ve always liked having rapids in the stream of your life.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Melanie asked.
“It means you’ve never liked being bored.”
“Whatever.” Melanie tried not to sigh with exasperation over one of her mother’s little jabs. “Speaking of being bored, there was a pair of deaths here a few days ago, and they might’ve been murdered. Do you know anything about them?”
“You ask because their souls have come to my side?” her mother’s voice asked.
“Well, yeah. And because you seem to be here a lot.”
“I’m here because you call me here. Or I want to see the kids. Otherwise, what am I supposed to know about resort guests on a honeymoon?”
“So, you do know about them?”
“I can’t help with things like that, Honey. You know that.”
“There’s nothing you can tell me about them?” Melanie asked.
“Only that simple matters are often much more complicated than what they seem on the surface.”
Melanie tisked. “Same old answer. It’s for the living to solve mortal crimes.”
“You asked and that’s the best I can do.” There was a strong gust of wind that ruffled Melanie’s blouse. “You’ve lost a lot of weight. Are you getting enough to eat? And enough rest?”
“Never enough of either. I live in a house of bad cooks and the kids are like alarm clocks too tightly wound up.”
“You weren’t so easy,” her mother said.
“But I’ve got two. And in-laws. It would be nice if there were fewer of them. I swear, Josh and I have spent more time dealing with his parents than we have with the kids. Not that he pays much attention to any of us anymore. Just once, I’d like to go home to a house without some new drama being played out.”
“Be careful what you ask for. You might get it much sooner than you expect.”
“Another one of your ciphers.”
Melanie heard her mother laugh.
“How’s Dad? Do you ever get to see him, or however it is for you guys…on that side, or whatever it is? This has always been so weird talking to you like this.”
“He’s fine. Exactly where he’s supposed to be.”
“And Grandma and Grandpa? And Amy?”
“They’re fine. Amy has had a hard time adjusting, but she’s making it hard on herself.”
“I don’t suppose they could…”
“Come and visit you? No. They don’t have the same attachment to you and this bench as I do.”
Melanie sat quietly for a while, watching the gentle waves break on the beach not far away. “We can’t keep doing this, can we?” she finally asked.
“I’m afraid not.”
A tear formed at the corner of Melanie’s eye. “Why not?”
“This is something very special that we have. Very few people get this. As much as I enjoy getting glimpses into your life, we’ll have to say goodbye eventually. You must realize that.”
“I always knew you’d say that someday, but I’ve always prayed I’d never hear it. Is today that day?” Melanie asked.
“No. You’ll know when it comes, I promise you.”
When a gust of
wind blew through, Melanie knew her meeting with her mother was done and that it was time to go home.
***
There was one extra car in the driveway when Melanie got home. Even before she went in the back door to the kitchen, she smelled a pleasant aroma of Asian food being cooked, with garlic as the prominent scent. Inside, Georgie was at the stove, working with two woks, stir-frying batches of vegetables. Thérèse was at the table, writing in one of her language learning books. Melanie gave Thérèse a tickle at the same time she kissed the girl’s cheek.
“That smells good. You can cook, Georgie?”
“A few things. No meat, right?”
“Right,” Melanie said, inspecting the sizzling woks. “You know you weren’t hired for cooking. Usually Josh or I cook. Or we bring home takeout.”
“I wasn’t sure.”
“The way it works is, the first person up in the morning turns on the coffeemaker and puts water on to boil. I’ll make Tay’s lunch. Then planning for dinner, there’s usually a dozen text messages flying around Maui, all of us trying to figure out what we want for dinner and who’s responsible for making it. Where’s Josh, anyway?”
“Talking to Uncle Nate outside.”
After checking on the baby, Melanie quickly changed clothes and went out to see why Detective Nakatani had come by, if it was about the investigation or to check up on his niece.
“A little of both,” he said. “If Josh doesn’t mind, I could fill you in on a few things I’ve learned about that couple.”
Josh took his empty beer can and retreated for the house.
“Okay, first, what’s the deal with your niece?” Melanie asked.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” the detective asked.
“Nothing happened. She knows how to take care of a baby, has Thérèse doing homework, and knows how to cook. I want to marry her.”
Nakatani chuckled. “Just wait. But I do have some info on that couple. It seems they’re not as crystal clean as we’ve been thinking.”
“Oh? Why?”
“First, we got back the FBI results from their fingerprints. They aren’t Millicent Gubler or Allen Steinhoefler of Ames, Iowa. They were Dan and Betty Taylor of Chicago, Illinois.”
“What? Wait a minute. The couple I met said they won a trip to Maui on some game show. Did they give it away to someone else?”
“We’re trying to figure that out. But there’s more about the Taylors. They were grifters well-known to law enforcement in Chicago and throughout the Mid West.”
“Grifters as in con artists?” Melanie asked.
“Right. I’ve been on the phone to Chicago PD several times in the last two days. They figure the Taylors knew they were too hot to work anywhere in the Mid West, so they brought their show on the road to Hawaii. What I can’t figure out is why they came to Maui and how they found out about the game show winners.”
“How were the people from Ames involved in it? Were they part of some scam? If so, what did they get out of the deal if the other couple got the Maui vacation?”
“Still trying to find the pieces to the puzzle, Mayor. We’re hoping we can uncover a few more layers to this thing.”
“But were the con artists killed because they got the game show prize? I just can’t imagine that nice people from Iowa would kill to get their prize back.”
“The rest of us doubt that also. We’ve been looking for the couple from Ames and can’t seem to locate them anywhere in Iowa or surrounding states. Both Ames PD and Story County Sheriffs have been to the house several times, and have talked with the neighbors. The neighbors are able to verify Gubler and Steinhoefler won a trip to Maui on a local game show, and left on the scheduled day. They remembered quite well because it was such a big deal, even making the newspaper there. There is no question Gubler and Steinhoefler were supposed to be here right now, not the Taylors. But we can’t find them, not here in Hawaii or back home in Ames.”
“But how did the Taylors check in at the resort? They would need photo ID,” Melanie asked.
“I went back to hotel reception and asked about that. They showed me the photocopies of their IDs that they keep on record. Somehow, the Taylors ended up with the Ames couple’s driver’s licenses. Comparing the little pictures on the licenses, they look close enough to be siblings. Unfortunately, since they’re missing and this grifter couple had their IDs, I think the Steinhoefler-Gublers have met with foul play.”
“Okay. Let me see if I understand,” Melanie said. “The couple I found in the little rowboat were well-known con artists named Taylor from Chicago?”
“Right.”
“And it looks as though they somehow stole or got the prize trip from Gubler and Steinhoefler?”
“That’s the way it looks. The Taylors checked into the Ames couple’s room using their names and IDs.”
“But nobody knows where Gubler or Steinhoefler are?” she asked.
“Right. Somewhere along the way from the moment the Ames couple got in the taxi for a ride to the airport to come here, to the time the con artists checked into their room late that same day, the prize and the IDs transferred from Gubler and Steinhoefler to the Taylors. When and where the Taylors got involved is one question, and the where-abouts of Gubler and Steinhoefler is the other question mark. Once we find them, we’ll be able to figure out what happened.”
“You think they’re…”
“Dead?” he asked. “That’s anybody’s guess. We’re approaching this as though they are still alive but only in a different place than here or at home in Ames. But I think everyone involved from Ames to Maui needs to be prepared for bad news.”
“Sure is easy to think the worst,” she said.
“But con artists generally don’t stoop to murder. Grifting is all about getting money the quickest and easiest way possible. If the con looks like it won’t work, they simply walk away and try someone else. That way they minimize the potential trouble they could get in. Muscling marks into being agreeable is nowhere on a con artist’s radar. Far from it.”
Thérèse came out just then to tell them dinner was ready.
“You’re staying to eat with us, Detective?”
He stood. “If there’s one thing my sister can do it’s cook, and Georgianne learned from her.”
Chapter Seven
After dinner, Melanie walked Detective Nakatani out to his car. She still had a few questions about the investigation. Since a light evening rain had started, she sat in the passenger seat so they could talk.
“Okay, so the whole dead con artist investigation is still up in the air. What about the meth that was found inside the teddy bear? Any idea of who put it there and why? And why the heck was that in the rowboat with the dead couple? I’m completely confused by that.”
“So are the rest of us, Mayor. We’ve collected a few partial prints from the bags and have run them, but don’t get any conclusive IDs. We sent samples from several of the bags to the police lab in Honolulu for testing. They can determine not just quality, but the exact portions of chemicals that were used when the stuff got cooked, and even the quality of those chemicals.”
“I hate to sound ignorant, but it’s not all the same?” Melanie asked. “I guess just like any other drug, it gets cut with other useless substances for a higher profit?”
“Not so much as you might think with meth, mostly because it’s so cheap to make. But, depending on the chemical makeup and the quality of the ingredients used, the lab can often determine who made the stuff, or at least on which island.”
“How can they possibly know which island it comes from?” she asked.
“From the availability of the ingredients. Most of the ingredients are found in common over-the-counter products like brake fluid or ammonia. All ammonia products are essentially the same, so following that leads us to a dead end. But not all brake fluids are the same. They often have highly varying chemical compounds, and comparing what we find in the final product of meth, we can link th
at to a specific brand of brake fluid. Then all we have to know is what stores on which islands sell that brand of brake fluid.”
“I get it. If Bob’s Auto Parts Store on Maui sells ABC budget brake fluid and nobody else in the islands does, you know the meth was most likely made here. Did you find that with other ingredients?”
“Yes. Three in all, so that gives us a very high assurance the meth that was hidden inside the teddy bear was cooked right here on Maui. Plus, what the lab found with the samples we sent was that they were all the same, giving us a high probability they were all made by the same maker.”
“So, you know who it is?” Melanie asked.
“Not exactly. As you know, I’ve been with Maui PD for only about a year, but MPD has been trying to find the maker of this specific stuff for longer than that. Apparently, this guy is by far the largest maker of the stuff, aggressively protecting his business. We’re hoping that once we find him, we can shut him down once and for all. That would put a big dent in the trafficking and use of meth, not just on Maui, but all over Hawaii.”
“I’ve read about it but I’m not sure of what goes into the stuff. I had patients during my residency in San Francisco that were users, but fortunately I’ve never had any users here on Maui.”
“The problem in stopping the manufacture is that all the ingredients are easily obtained almost anywhere, except one.”
“The ephedrine?” she asked.
“Right. Without that, nobody gets high. As you know, it’s available only in small amounts in cold medicine, so a cooker needs to buy a ton of it over-the-counter in drugstores. We’ve asked druggists and pharmacies to keep watch for people who buy large amounts, more than just a couple of boxes, and to keep the sales receipts so we can track the purchasers. But we run into ethical and legal constraints when doing that.”
“What constraints?” Melanie asked. “If someone buys out the entire stock of cold pills in one go, can’t you go lean on him?”
“As much as we’d like to, no. We can’t knock on the door of everyone who buys cold pills and expect cooperation. Those guys are smart enough not to buy large batches all at once. They send their brothers and sisters in, friends, anybody, to buy a package or two. Same with the chlorine, brake fluid, everything else. Purchasing the stuff in small batches by numerous people makes it impossible for us to track.”