by Liz Dodwell
“So, Wayne or Dodo next?” I asked Finn as soon as Eli left.
Resting his chin on cupped hands he closed his eyes and was silent in thought for a while. “Let’s bring them in together. It might not be a bad idea to see how they react to each other.”
They were already together when I went for them; Dodo now so shrunken she seemed in danger of being swallowed by the chair she was in. In contrast, Wayne’s posture was tense and inflated, like a wild animal warning predators away.
“Dodo.” I squatted before her, gently taking her hand. “Dodo!” I repeated her name with more urgency, but like smoke from a chimney her senses had dissipated and she showed no reaction to her name.
“Let her be,” Wayne said. “She’s in shock.”
Wayne Gregory, I thought, looked like a man whose emotions had been buried alive and could erupt at any moment. It was easy to believe that he had loved this woman for all these years, quietly and perhaps in a suffering sort of way. And now she needed him. Had he made that happen? Was he the killer? I chose my words carefully.
“I promise you Finn will be nothing but considerate. He’s the kindest man I know and he’s helped many people in times of bereavement. You can come, too. Let’s try and put this awful business to rest so Dodo will be able to heal.”
Slowly he nodded and spoke Dodo’s name, stroking the hair from her face. In an instant, some embers of comprehension returned to her and she gave Wayne a token of a smile.
“Sweetheart, we’re going into the study to talk to Finn. OK?”
Mechanically she began to move and we made our way past the other guests who sat still and silent, their eyes following us through the doorway.
An hour had passed. With gentle yet persistent probing and cajoling Dodo had roused herself to answer Finn’s questions. And once she and Wayne knew that their conversation in the bedroom had been overheard, their story had been told.
As a Private First Class in the Marine Corps, Wayne had been stationed in Hawaii. There he met the young Dodo and fell in love, but she was already engaged to Ken Kinimaka.
“My parents had pushed for the match. Ken’s family had wealth and status and embraced their Japanese roots.”
“Just a minute,” I said. “Kinimaka isn’t a Japanese name.”
Dodo continued. “Ken’s mother was Japanese but his father had a Japanese mother and Hawaiian father. My situation was similar, and as an obedient Japanese daughter, even though I cared very much for Wayne, I would never have disregarded my parents’ wishes.”
“Was it a happy marriage?” Finn asked.
“At first it seemed so. Please understand, this was never a love match but Ken was kind to me. I thought when children came along I would have someone to love and who would love me, and everything would be fine. But there were no children. Ken never accused; I just knew he believed it was my fault and for a long time I believed it, too.”
“How long?” I asked.
“Six or seven years.” Talk about unemancipated.
“Finally, I decided to get tested and, guess what? There was nothing wrong with me. When I told Ken he simply refused to accept it and from then on things got steadily worse. We shared a house though not a home, and not a bed.”
At this Dodo glanced briefly at Wayne and a little flush of color rose to her cheeks.
“I’m so sorry, Dodo.” Finn cleared his throat. “I understand what a terrible shock this has been to you….”
“No, you don’t understand. You don’t understand at all. The reason I’m so upset is because a part of me is glad. When I first realized it was Ken who was dead the first thing I felt was relief. For years my life was not good but it wasn’t really bad either. I could lose myself in writing and art. I knew Ken had other women – paid prostitutes - and that was fine because it meant he left me alone. All I had to do was play the part of dutiful wife in front of his colleagues. Then this past year I became afraid. He would have wild mood swings, forget whole parts of the day then be angry at me because of it. I wondered if he might have Parkinson’s disease because his hands would shake. If I so much as hinted he visit a doctor he’d become enraged. He became obsessed with his ancestry and the supreme role of the male in Japanese society. I…I started to barricade myself into my room….”
Her voice trailed into nothingness.
“Dodo,” Finn’s voice was low, “you realize this gives you motive?”
Wayne surged to his feet. “That’s enough! There’s no way she could have wielded that sword. I saw the cut. His belly was sliced open; that took strength.”
“The kind of strength you have, Wayne?”
Wayne’s jaw dropped. At the same moment Dodo’s eyes rolled back in her head and she passed out cold.
EIGHT
“So what do you think?” Finn asked.
“I think I need a drink… and something to eat.”
Finn gave me his “Why am I not surprised” look.
“Hey! All this drama gives a girl an appetite.”
Finn had spent another 15 minutes questioning Dodo and Wayne. They claimed that neither of them knew the other would be at the dinner. Dodo said Ken wanted to attend for the chance to rub elbows with some of the local “elite.” Wayne came because he was a strong supporter of the charity.
Wayne had followed Dodo into the guest room to talk to her when everyone split up to look for clues. She’d become very emotional and run out to the patio and on into the garden. Wayne went after her but lost her. Both denied seeing anyone else until they returned to the house separately.
“So far, that means that neither Dodo nor Wayne, nor the Westgates, have an alibi.”
“Include Eli Shain in that list,” Finn added.
“So what do you think?”
“I think we need a floor plan of the house. How about you find Bert and see if he’s got something.”
“Good idea. And I’ll see if he’s got something to eat.”
I was bombarded with questions and complaints as soon as I left the study. Not surprising really. It was closing in on one in the morning. The incessant whine from the wind raging down the chimney would drive anyone crazy. Add to that the threat of a murderer being in their midst. No-one had managed to sleep and I figured perhaps we all could do with a break before everyone lived up to their pirate alter egos and we had a mutiny on our hands.
After I found Bert and sent him on his mission I grabbed Teresa – I knew I was safe with her – and we headed into the kitchen where we found cold cuts, cheese and other fixings and set about making sandwiches. Rain was hitting the windows with a sharp slapping sound and we had to raise our voices to be heard.
“I’m not surprised you got pulled off your feet.” I nodded in the direction of the door to the patio. “Didn’t you realize how windy it was?”
Teresa suddenly looked stricken. What the hell?
I frowned and fixed my gaze on her. “OK. What gives?”
She bowed her head and mumbled something I couldn’t understand. “What?”
“I was supposed to meet Eli there.”
“Are you saying you already knew Eli?”
She nodded; then her words came tumbling out. “Eli is my boyfriend. He’s here because of me - I work for the catering company that prepared the dinner. When I told him about it he figured if he came he could find out something about Bert or the Westgates or…or even Finn,” here she had the good grace to look ashamed, “and write an expose and make a name for himself.”
“Yeah, well I’ve certainly got a name for him.” I was pissed. “No wonder he was hiding in the closet; he really was eavesdropping. Why didn’t you tell this to us earlier?”
“He didn’t mean any harm. He wouldn’t hurt anyone. He had to max out his credit card to pay for this. I don’t know what he’ll do if he can’t get a story out of it.”
“I don’t care. He doesn’t deserve a story. And I’m disappointed in you, too. Obviously you were a willing accomplice.”
“No,” s
he began to sniffle. “I really didn’t want to do this, but he said if I loved him I would help.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. Get a grip… and get a new boyfriend.” That said, I snatched a plateful of food and some sodas to take to the study and shoved Teresa ahead of me with the rest of the sandwiches for the hungry pirates.
Bert was with Finn as I re-entered the study, hunched over a blueprint spread on the desk. They looked like they were playing Clue. They had little cutout figures they were moving from room to room.
“I’ll take Miss Marple in the dining room with a knitting needle,” I said.
Bert looked pained. He held up one of the cutouts. “We’re plotting where everyone was at the time of the killing. Each figure represents one of the players.”
“And how’s that going for you.”
“So far, it’s not telling us anything new.”
“Well, I have something new to tell you.” I proceeded to recount my conversation with Teresa. “She seemed genuinely contrite, but it was really stupid of her to get involved.”
“It certainly was.” Finn grabbed one of the sandwiches and a ginger ale. “It also suggests a motive for Eli.”
“You mean he could have killed Ken just so he would have a sensational story to write about?” Bert’s face expressed skepticism. “That’s pretty far-fetched.”
“Agreed. But at this juncture I’m not ruling anything out.” Finn pinched the bridge of his nose. He’s a five-time cancer survivor and this kind of stress can be really tough on him, but I knew he wouldn’t rest until he felt he’d made a breakthrough. He bit into his sandwich and chewed a few times. “What is this stuff?”
“It’s called potted shrimp. We found a jar of it in the fridge.”
Bert explained. “Monks makes it with small brown shrimp he gets from England, cooked in clarified butter and seasonings. He says it’s a British classic.”
“It’s actually quite tasty.”
“I hope our Shrimp is OK,” I said, at which Bert looked puzzled.
“Shrimp is our cat. She’s back at Stock Island on Time Voyager. She’s probably upset with us being gone during this storm.”
Finn snorted. “Time Voyager is completely secure, and Shrimp has plenty of food and her choice of beds to sleep in, which is more than we have.”
“I guess you’re right,” I said, and chewed on another sandwich thinking how nice it would be to cozy up next to her warm, fluffy little body and be lulled to sleep by her throaty purr.
NINE
“I assure you, sir, I was not the one who spilled the wine.”
“But you apologized for doing so.”
“Of course, sir. As butler, one of my primary concerns is to ensure the comfort and pleasure of guests. If that means I take responsibility for an accident caused by a guest then so be it. However, in light of Mr. Kinimaka’s unfortunate demise, I feel it incumbent upon me to inform you it was Mr. Kinimaka who spilled the wine. I had noticed earlier that he had an occasional involuntary tremble in his right arm. He had reached for his glass just after it was filled. His hand jerked and sent the glass rocking: enough to spill some of its contents, though without falling over.”
Idly, I wondered if it was a requirement at butler school to speak “posh.”
“Tell me about the coin, Monks.”
“There is little to tell. It’s a family token that was given to me by my father, who had it from his father and so on.”
Finn held out his hand. “May I see it?”
With some reluctance Monks removed the chain from around his neck and placed it in Finn’s hand.
“The date is 1842, which means it could be part of the horde from the Spec.”
“I don’t know its origin, sir.”
“You know more than you’re telling us. It was clear when Ken mentioned his family finding the cache of Gold Eagles that it resonated with you. Speak out, man.”
“Go ahead, Monks,” Bert urged. “No-one here is going to jump to conclusions.”
“Alright, sir. Here’s the story that’s been told in my family.
“About five generations back my ancestor was a sailor on board the Spec. With two other men he was charged with guarding a chest of coins – payment for a delivery of opium – while the rest of the crew and the captain were ashore, living it up. One of the men forced my ancestor at gun point to help him steal the treasure after he’d drugged the third sailor. The man had an accomplice who rowed out to the schooner with a bunch of ballast rocks that they exchanged for the coins.
“They gave my ancestor the choice to stay on board or come with them to the island. He knew, of course, if he stayed he’d be lynched when it was found the coins were missing, so he took his chances with the thieves. Once they reached land, the thieves tossed him a single coin and told him to keep his mouth shut or they would find him and kill him. He took the coin and ran. When morning came, in spite of warning skies, the Spec’s captain decided to sail. Perhaps his judgment was impaired by the previous evening’s alcoholic intake; at any rate, as Ken told you, the ship was caught in the storm and went down in 700 fathoms. My ancestor came forward and said he’d been on board and managed to swim to safety. Strangely enough, the other crewman, the thief, did the same. They were believed to be the only two “survivors.”
“Both men later gained passage on another schooner from Honolulu to the Malay Peninsula. My ancestor just wanted to get away; the thief presumably was laying a cover story and planning to return and claim his booty. What happened after that I have no idea, except my family used the coin as a talisman to remind us that hard work and honesty is always best.”
Finn sat back, stroking his beard; a habit he had when deep in thought. It seemed a hell of a coincidence that two men whose ancestors had been involved in a crime more than 160 years ago should now find themselves in the same place at the same time, and one of them would be killed.
“Fifty million dollars is a hell of a motive for revenge,” Finn said.
“My ancestor was not a thief. And, in fact, his coercion into the deed was a stroke of luck - he would otherwise have been on board when the Spec sank. My feelings toward Mr. Kinimaka would naturally be gratitude rather than revenge.”
“Alright, Monks. That will do for now.”
The man gave a curt nod, turned smartly and exited.
“Well,” I said, “it looks to me as if he had motive but did he have opportunity? He was seen in the great room and the den but we can’t pinpoint a time. Maybe he took the sword down before we got here. I looked at the collection but I couldn’t tell you if the katana was there or not.”
“I have to say something.” Bert was agitated. He took a deep breath then let it out slowly before continuing. “Apart from the fact that I know Monks and I know he didn’t do this, there would be no reason for him to use a sword to kill anyone. He’s ex-SBS. That’s Special Boat Service, the British Naval Special Forces. They’re among the best of the best. Monks could kill someone fifty different ways with just his bare hands.”
“How does an ex Special Forces man come to be working for a reclusive multi-millionaire?” Finn asked, while I was trying to come up with just ten ways to kill a person bare-handed.
“Believe it or not, people with Monks’ skill set can have a tough time finding work when they leave the military. He went to the Butler’s Academy, which is where I found him when he graduated. Making a lot of money also makes you a target for a lot of freaks and Monks, with his abilities, was just what I needed.”
“And yet he let a murder happen,” I murmured.
“Yes.” Bert hung his head. “He’s pretty angry with himself about that – and with me. He was against this event from the beginning. Said it would be impossible to perform his butling duties and at the same time keep an eye on ten strangers who had the run of the house. So he concentrated on my safety and Ken got killed. Monks really can’t be blamed for that.”
“I just had a thought.” Why hadn’t this occurred to me befo
re? “Could Bert be the real target? After all, he’s the one with the big bucks. Maybe Ken saw something and the killer had to shut him up.”
Finn’s hand came up to stroke his beard again. Then he uncovered the pictures and looked intently at them. Bert was about to speak but I shook my head at him. When Finn is like this it’s best to leave him alone, so Bert and I shoved figures around on the blueprint hoping something new might jump out at us. It didn’t.
TEN
“I’m missing something.” Finn practically growled. “There’s something there but I can’t quite see it.”
He turned from the photos. “Who do we still have to talk to?”
“Only Dilly.”
He rolled his eyes. “OK. Before we bring her in, let’s have a quick recap. I don’t think Bert was the intended victim. Everything about this smacks of a crime of opportunity. Why would someone plan to kill a person when they’re on a small island with a dozen people around? Better to wait for Bert to come to the mainland, use a high-powered rifle from a distance or run him down with a fast bike. There are lots of better ways to do it.”
“Thanks,” Bert said.
Ignoring him, Finn went on. “So let’s continue on the premise that Ken was the killer’s target. Who had motive. Phill?”
I took my cue. “First off, there’s Dodo. Her marriage was a sham and Ken had become threatening of late. Maybe she stands to get a nice insurance policy on his death.”
“Who else?”
“Wayne, of course. He suddenly finds the love of his life again, sees how unhappy she is and decides to take matters into his own hands.
“Then there’s Monks. Sorry, Bert.” I gave him an apologetic look. “We only have his word that his family never wanted the treasure.”
“But we don’t know that the thief was actually Ken’s ancestor. Ken said his family found the coins. It’s quite possible the thief never came back to Hawaii to claim his fortune,” Bert was pleading hard for his protector, “so why would Monks want to harm an innocent person?”