And he did.
Without his father's help.
If he stepped on someone's toes along the way, so be it; they should have kept their damn feet out of the way, as his father would have said.
By age twenty-three, Ben owned five houses, using other people's money and coming away with plenty of his own.
His flourishing career in real estate was put on hold when he enlisted in the military, deciding to follow in the footsteps of three generations of Crawford men. And maybe to prove to his father that he was just as tough as he was any day of the week, including in the U.S. Air Force, where he made it to Captain.
Four long years stationed in Honolulu was tougher than he'd thought, but it was not without its thrills. He had bedded a number of women, including one who had gotten herself pregnant.
Damn! That stupid bitch!
He offered to pay her to get rid of it, but she refused.
To hell with her.
He had his whole future ahead of him and wasn't about to commit himself to a woman he barely knew, let alone loved.
The best thing that ever happened to him was when his stint ended and he went back to the mainland.
He did not look back.
Ben's career in real estate picked up right where it left off. He acquired property after property, investing and reinvesting, and developing. By age thirty-two, he was a millionaire several times over and the owner of several impressive properties, including a resort hotel in Phoenix.
A year later when he met Melody Sue Harlow, the very lovely twenty-six-year-old former state beauty queen, Ben's priorities shifted. For the first time in his life, he knew what true love was. So did Melody.
Two months later, she became Melody Sue Crawford.
Two years later, she gave birth to Leigh Crawford.
One year later, Melody became ill unexpectedly. The doctors said it was congenital heart failure.
One month later, she was dead.
Ben was left alone to care for his one-year-old daughter.
She, along with his business interests, would have to fill the emptiness that Melody's untimely death left.
Although they did, Ben knew deep down inside that nothing could ever take Melody's place in his heart.
And he was right.
* * *
The plane touched down at Kapalua Airport in West Maui. As usual, the flight had been flawless. Ben had taken up flying as a hobby years ago, and developed it further while in the Air Force.
He'd recently begun teaching Leigh to fly.
Now he wanted to teach her something else that he considered extremely important—how to run a business. After all, one day everything he owned would be hers lock, stock, and barrel. And that included his most recent purchase, the Kaanapali Palms Hotel. She would need to learn how to hang on to her investments. He knew full well that the sharks out there would wrest them from her if she gave them even an inch. If she had been a boy, Ben admittedly would have felt more secure in Leigh's ability to handle anything thrown at her. Of course, he would never tell her that.
Ben shook off his thoughts, realizing he was getting ahead of the game.
Right now, he was still in charge of his holdings and intended to be for many years to come.
He was especially happy to finally get a piece of the action in Hawaii after trying for years. So what if it was not Honolulu. He had a feeling that in no time at all, Maui would be the new economic kingpin of the islands, and he planned to be right in the thick of it.
At the moment, he was here to supervise the last minute preparations before the grand opening of the hotel in two weeks; and, of course, to thank all his friends, investors, and associates for their support by staging a big celebration to mark the occasion.
* * *
A limousine was waiting for them when they got off the plane. The dark-haired Hawaiian chauffeur, who was in his thirties, tall, and superbly built, greeted them.
"This is my daughter, Leigh," Ben said to the man in a condescending tone.
The chauffeur gave her a quick once over and nodded, then smiled. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Crawford."
Leigh displayed a pearly white, toothy smile that she had perfected over the years, and thought: It's so like Daddy to not even bother to introduce the hot, sexy guy by name, as if it was totally irrelevant. She was sure that during his many recent trips to Maui he had gotten to know the man's name.
In spite of her attraction to him, she decided with sudden disinterest that maybe it wasn't all that relevant.
The chauffeur grinned at her as he opened the car door. "I'll get your bags."
After he was several feet away from the limo, Leigh blushed and again found herself interested in the man. "Daddy, what's the chauffeur's name?"
"I have no idea," Ben said.
"Oh, Daddy," she said, pouting. "Well, I think he's cute."
Ben regarded her with a slow, less than accommodating smile. "Isn't that what you say about every young man you meet?"
Only if they look like him, she thought mischievously. She could already tell she was going to enjoy her month long stay on Maui.
* * *
Three months shy of her twentieth birthday, Leigh Crawford was already a beauty of stunning proportions. Tall, tan, and lovely, she needed neither makeup nor to be made up to be the envy of most other women—and men. She was the sum of her mother's and father's parts. Her bold, long-lashed, green eyes, small shapely nose, and wide mouth were direct gifts from the mother she never knew. Whereas her broad shoulders, long, lean legs, and chin dimple belonged expressly to her father. The rest of the package was all her own: long, natural blonde hair, burgeoning round breasts, and a shapely figure second to none.
As the only child of a wealthy widower businessman, Leigh had the best and worst of all worlds. She was the beneficiary of enormous generosities including the best clothes, the best cars (her first car at age sixteen was a Jaguar), the best house, the best horse, plenty of money, and the adoration of a loving father—and she basked in every moment of it.
Who wouldn't?
On the flip side, however, were a series of boarding schools, long and frustrating absences by her father, and a considerable amount of loneliness thrown in for bad measure.
How did she offset the price of wealth, a busy father who had a wandering eye, and the lack of maternal care and guidance?
By experimenting with alcohol, drugs, and, sex.
Her first real sexual experience was at age fourteen. The boy, fifteen, was also a product of super-rich parents and he had considerable experience in sexual matters. He taught Leigh the ins and outs of sex during a weekend when they were both supposed to be on a home break from boarding school; but instead they crashed at a five-star hotel where cold hard cash eliminated the need for nosey inquiries.
Leigh loved the experience, if not the teacher.
It was the beginning of a string of relationships that went nowhere. She could never be sure if her lover was more interested in her or her money, and didn't really care. In her eyes, it was only for fun, and the pure enjoyment of making out and hooking up with good-looking guys. It never occurred to her that someone might try to blackmail her with an eye on a big payday from her rich, proud father.
That notwithstanding, she still knew the meaning of statutory rape, or rape as the case may be, and made sure her sex partners knew the same before and after the fact. Aside from being arrested and thrown in jail, incurring the wrath of her powerful and overprotective father would not be a walk in the park.
In truth, although she had never sat down and talked to him about it, Leigh suspected her father knew full well that she was not a virgin, as evidenced by him saying one night totally out of the blue:
"Honey, sex doesn't really have to be messy, as long as you make sure you're protected at all times. Unwanted babies or sexually transmitted diseases can ruin a female for life."
The statement struck Leigh as peculiar. Was he trying to tell her something? Did he an
d her mother not want her? Was he suggesting that her mother's heart failure was brought on by an STD?
Or maybe she had a sister or brother out there that Leigh knew nothing about.
She decided the answer was no to questions A, B, C, and D. He had never given her any indication that he or her mother did not want her; and had never claimed her mother's untimely death was caused by anything other than what the doctors said.
As for having a sibling, she couldn't rule that out altogether, knowing her father had more than his share of sex partners over the years. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she had a sister or brother to hang out with, share secrets, and even fight with.
Leigh thought back to her father's comment. She was sure it was his way of telling her indirectly that what you do behind closed doors is fine as long as you make sure you don't suffer the consequences.
She had made sure.
She had been taking birth control pills from the very start.
If and when she found the right guy to spend her life with, she supposed she would have a child one day.
If not, then she would know it was not meant to be.
Motherhood.
The very idea of being a mother petrified Leigh for some reason and she was not sure why.
Maybe it was because she never had a mother, for all intents and purposes, and wasn't sure if she would be a good mother.
Or maybe it was because she resented the fact that her mother left her at the tender age of one to fend for herself in a male dominated society; and she feared someday she might do the same to her own child.
Invariably Leigh would cry and tell herself she would give up everything: the money...the role she played very well as a spoiled rich girl...the sex...maybe even her father—if she could only have her mother back to comfort her and cuddle up with on rainy nights.
* * *
During the drive, Leigh silently admired the profile of her strong, handsome father who appeared to be deep in thought. As usual, he was wearing an expensive suit—this one dark blue. She was more comfortably dressed in attire befitting the islands: a loose fitting print shirt and jean shorts.
Her father—the wealthy real estate developer.
But what did she want out of life? She had tried a year of college and decided it was too boring and unfulfilling. Who needed it anyway when she had more money—or the promise of it—than she could possibly ever use.
Right now she was more than content to be Daddy's little girl as well as her own view of being a big girl, while enjoying all the benefits that accompanied both distinctions.
Suddenly, feeling a bit restless and seeking the type of attention she was used to (both around her father and others), Leigh tucked her arm under his and cooed:
"The first thing I'm going to do is go for a swim. Do you want to join me?" She could see the nameless chauffeur's interested eyes peek at her through the rear view mirror.
Ben's eyes crinkled. "Sounds inviting... There are three pools, you know," he boasted, virtually ignoring the mighty Pacific as the place to go for swimming in Hawaii. His eyes sharpened regrettably and his voice dropped as he said: "But I can't, darling. I've got a meeting to attend damn close to the moment we arrive. But you have some fun. I promise I'll find time to join you later."
She gave him a knowing, disappointed look. "I'm counting on it."
Leigh smiled at the driver and thought: He might not be a bad substitute. And from his shifting and desirous eyes, she could tell that he was ready and more than willing.
The drive down the tree-lined Kaanapali Parkway exhibited not only luxury hotel after hotel and a line of cars—many of which seemed to part the way as the limo passed through—but a flock of tan, taut, beautiful bodies walking or jogging by. Leigh was certain now that the fun had only just begun.
The limousine turned onto a street and Leigh looked up in awe. There it stood before them, the hotel her father had bought, renamed, renovated, and dedicated to her: the Kaanapali Palms Hotel. If she knew her father, it was touted as the biggest and best resort hotel on the island. From where she sat, it looked like it.
* * *
The meeting took place in the Sunset Palms Ballroom—one of ten meeting rooms in the Kaanapali Palms Hotel. The seats were set up auditorium style and the hotel staff was perched in them like zombies as they listened to the owner. He stood before a podium, flanked by the hotel's executives, and introduced himself to those who had not met him during his earlier visits. Then he proceeded to tell them what he expected from each and every one of them as employees and how customer satisfaction must always be their number one goal.
Standing at the back of the room, two housekeepers paid particular attention to the monologue—or the man responsible for it.
"I hear he's widowed," Maggie Webb whispered excitedly to the other. "Maybe he's in the market for a forty-year-old who's all woman. And she can even clean—a little." She giggled childishly at her fanciful words.
Yoshiko Pelayo, thirty-two, managed a slight smile as she looked at the woman who had befriended her since she joined the staff. She whispered back with unaccustomed candor, along with regret: "I'm sure Mr. Crawford considers himself much too important to be bothered by the likes of us."
Maggie frowned. "Don't sell yourself short," she warned softly. "Certainly don't sell me short. No one is so big that they can't be taken down a few pegs, not even Mr. CEO up there—"
But Yoshiko had returned her ears and eyes to Ben Crawford. This was the first time she had seen the great real estate mogul in person.
She had waited a lifetime to do so.
He seemed so eloquent, so in control standing up there—a master before his slaves.
She was not a slave to him or any other man, but especially not to him.
Yoshiko could feel her heartbeat quicken as she peered over the crowd at the one who employed them.
Why am I even here? she asked herself. I don't belong.
But then she thought: Of course I do. I have every right to be here. More than any of these other people do.
Her eyes started to water.
She hated this man she had never met.
He had taken away everything dear to her.
He was responsible for the rage she felt.
The bastard was her father...
* * *
Nearly thirty-three-years ago, Honolulu native Nahoko Pelayo was an attractive, nineteen-year-old aspiring dancer. Nahoko, who had hoped to someday reach Broadway, worked as a waitress to afford dance lessons and to help her parents supplement their meager earnings. One day while serving a group of soldiers, Nahoko met the enormously handsome Captain Ben Crawford, who immediately wooed her as no man had before.
That was when she made the mistake that would cost her for the rest of her life.
He deflowered her.
She believed she loved him, and he her. So she let him have his way with her again...and again.
Birth control was a foreign word in those days.
Abortion was not.
Both figured into what happened next.
She got pregnant.
She wanted marriage.
And her parents wanted marriage.
But Ben had other ideas.
Her religion forbade abortion. Further, Nahoko loved Ben. She would not destroy his baby's life—not even for him.
He conveniently disassociated himself from responsibility as he returned to the mainland.
Nahoko was left to have her baby alone, which she named Yoshiko after her grandmother.
Her dream of a career on Broadway died along with everything else. Disowned by her parents, abandoned by her community, and disgraced by the father of her baby, Nahoko fled to Maui, where she hoped anonymity would allow her to at least live in peace.
It did not.
A young Hawaiian mother with a half-Hawaiian, half-white illegitimate daughter made life very difficult on the islands, as most native people believed that the white man took their land, their pride,
and now their women.
Yet Nahoko could not afford to leave Hawaii. So she worked in the sugar cane fields, then as a waitress, and even a hula dancer, doing whatever she could do to support her daughter.
Dreams died hard. One dream she held onto was the hope that she, Yoshiko, and Ben might someday come together as a family.
Early on, she had followed Ben's career and felt a strange pride for what they once had. She even tried writing him a few times, hoping he would at least acknowledge his child.
The letters always came back, unopened.
When Nahoko learned the only man she ever loved, and still loved, had married, and further, had another child, Nahoko knew she and Yoshiko would never again be a part of Ben Crawford's life.
And yet Nahoko felt her daughter had a right to know who her father was.
She finally got the courage to tell her when she turned ten.
Yoshiko, embittered by her mother's betrayal at the hands of the soldier, nonetheless took up where Nahoko left off and followed from afar the life of her father—a life she should have been a part of—and watched her mother suffer all the while until she went to her grave at the relatively young age of thirty-nine. It hurt even more that Yoshiko was only nineteen at the time—the same age her mother had been when she got pregnant.
For years afterwards, Yoshiko carried the burden of feeling responsible for her mother's ruined life and knowing her father was out there somewhere, having never acknowledged her. Finally, she decided she could not be held accountable for something she had no control over. She had to try to pick up the pieces of her own life as best she could and try to make something of it.
But having grown up poor, she knew the task would be that much harder. She became determined, though, in memory of her mother, and as a knock against her father.
After spending most of her life on Maui, Yoshiko returned to Honolulu, where she worked her way through college, receiving a degree in journalism and graduating with honors. She was also blessed with extraordinary good looks. Yoshiko had the same long black hair, smooth golden skin, and small bosomed slender features of her mother; and as her mother told her often enough, she had the thick eyelashes, straight nose, and full mouth of her father. Her entrancing brown-gray eyes came from both parents.
Murder on Kaanapali Beach Page 24