Isle Be Seeing You (Islands of Aloha Mystery Book 9)

by JoAnn Bassett

  I balk at admitting I’m jaded, but there you have it. Been there, done that, and teetering far too close to the abyss of my own failed marriage to be worried about “messing up” Alex and Kat’s simple two-hour event.

  Steve was rearranging photography gear in the trunk of his car when I came back from the Gadda with the flowers.

  “You sure you’re gonna be okay?” he said. “I’m sorry about dumping bad news on you right before show time.”

  “I’m not going to think about it until I can talk to Doug. The police are simply doing their job, but I’m sure once the facts come out, Doug will be released.”

  He opened his driver door and slid inside. “See you top side.”

  I’d put on a good face for Steve, but as I got underway I ran through a long list of what-ifs concerning Doug and Lani. As much as I wanted to believe my sifu lacked the motive, means or opportunity to be responsible for his wife’s death, events of the past week niggled at the edge of certainty.

  Had I completely misread this man I’d known and believed in for ten years? First Hatch, then Finn and now Doug? My confidence in trusting the males of my species was at an all-time low. And with good reason. My current standing was pretty much zero for three.

  CHAPTER 12

  As luck would have it, I got behind a school bus going through Kula. High school kids, who never seem to be in much of a hurry for fear of appearing “uncool,” sauntered down the steps of the bus, and then milled about waiting for malingering friends to make their way out. Finally, the door closed and the bus trundled a few blocks further down the road. Red flashing lights came on, the brakes whooshed to a halt, and the whole process began again.

  I kept checking the time. Each bus stop burned at least three or four minutes. Mercifully, at last the bus turned left and I was able to get back up to speed. I was sailing through the curves a few miles from ‘Ulupalakua when my Bluetooth went off.

  “Aloha,” I said.

  “Don’t you ‘aloha’ me, Pali Moon.” It was Farrah.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Ono told me what you said last night.”

  “Okay.” I scrambled to come up with whatever I may have said that I’d have to apologize for.

  “I don’t dig you calling me names behind my back.”

  I couldn’t recall any name-calling.

  “What names?”

  “Ono said you called me weird.”

  In high school, Farrah had worked hard to be accepted into the Goth crowd, a weird bunch if there ever was one. Now she’s offended?

  “I think Ono misunderstood. I simply said the kahu thing might be a little weird.”

  “You don’t dig it? Because if you saw the dude’s website you’d totally get that he’s for real.”

  “Farrah, I’m on my way to a wedding. Can we talk about this later? ”

  “Now you’re ditching me? Great. See ya around, Pali.” The line went dead.

  I arrived at the winery at a quarter to four and Steve was already deep into photo shoot mode. He’d posed the couple under a towering tree at the center of the garden area and was instructing Alex in the finer points of exactly how his hands should be placed on the bride’s shoulder. Off to the side, the officiant was chatting with Bobby. I breathed a sigh of relief as everything looked delightfully under control.

  Bobby beckoned me over.

  “Any problems?” I nodded toward Alex, who was starting to look a bit shopworn with Steve’s fussing.

  Bobby said, “None that I know of.” He looked over at the officiant who shrugged his agreement.

  “I’m afraid the groom had a small issue with holding the ceremony here,” I said. “I’m glad to see he’s gotten over it.”

  “Issue?”

  I waved it away. “Nothing major. His religion forbids alcohol, so there was some concern over this being a winery.”

  The two men exchanged a glance, and Bobby spoke up. “Seems he’s experienced a religious epiphany.”

  The officiant smiled. “Yes, facing down matrimony can do that to a man.”

  “I’m not following,” I said.

  Bobby reached over and picked up an empty champagne flute from a nearby table. “Your teetotaler groom has already enjoyed two glasses of our Lokelani sparkling wine. And his blushing bride has guzzled at least three.”

  “What?”

  “Yes. Looks like they’ll have to repent tomorrow.”

  The officiant excused himself so he could get the ceremony under way.

  I dug through my purse. “I brought payment for the wines I’ll be buying.”

  “Good. But you’re already more than covered. The bridal couple ordered a case shipped home.”

  “Did they pay for it?”

  “On his Visa card.”

  “Go figure.”

  The ceremony went off without a hitch. Steve snapped away while the couple exchanged rings and vows, and the witnesses—a couple Kat and Alex had recruited from their hotel—beamed at the wedding couple as if they’d been close friends for years.

  “Now, by the power vested in me by the State of Hawaii, I pronounce you husband and wife,” intoned the officiant. “You may kiss the bride.”

  At this point, both couples—Alex and Kat, and the two witnesses—locked lips as if the men were about to go off to war.

  Bobby nudged me and nodded at the witnesses who were still enjoying a lingering lip lock. “Is that customary?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  At that point, the male witness came up for air. “We had a no-frills courthouse ceremony back home, so we’re pretending this is our wedding, too. We’re hoping to upload a few shots to Facebook.”

  Kat reached up and pulled the flower wreath and attached veil from her head. She hugged the other woman before carefully setting the veil in place. “There you go. Now take some snaps that’ll make your friends jealous.”

  Just when I go getting jaded about putting on weddings, someone does something that reminds me Hawaii can bring out the aloha in anyone.

  ***

  We went across the street for brisket sandwiches and cake and everyone was fed and getting back in their cars by six o’clock. I’d left my phone in my car and checked it as soon as I climbed in.

  The screen showed I had three voicemails. I figured the calls were probably from Farrah, anxious to make things right.

  I was wrong. All the calls were from the same number, but it wasn’t Farrah. It was James Kanekoa, Doug’s brother and the family lawyer. In the first call, James was circumspect, only saying he needed to talk to me. In the second message, he added a bit more context. His brother was in jail and had asked James to get in touch with me. By voicemail number three he was sounding anxious.

  “Pali, sorry to bother you again but I really need to talk to you. I don’t like to discuss sensitive information on cell calls, but you need to know this is serious. My brother’s threatening to confess and I’m desperate to hear from you. Call as soon as you get this.”

  Confess? Doug was going to tell the police he killed Lani?

  It took much less time to go down the mountain than it had taken me to go up. And it wasn’t just because there was no school bus.

  As I pulled in my driveway I called James. I hadn’t wanted to risk Bluetooth coverage on the mountain, and I wanted to hear the whole story without interruption.

  “James, it’s me, Pali Moon.”

  “Thank God you’ve called. I was beginning to think you didn’t want to get involved.”

  Tell that to Detective Wong, I thought. He accuses me of meddling when I simply ask, “How are you?”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t call sooner but I was at a wedding up in ‘Ulupalakua.”

  “No problem. Are you in a place where you won’t be overheard?”

  I’d planned to sit outside and enjoy the sunset, but went inside. “Yep, I’m inside my house. Nobody here. My roommate may come in soon, but for now I’m alone.”

  “I’d rather discuss
this in person, but I don’t want to come to your house if you’re expecting your roommate to show up. Douglas is being arraigned tomorrow and he wants to plead ‘guilty’”

  “Okay. I appreciate the heads-up, but I don’t understand why you’re telling me this.”

  “Because I can’t allow him to do it. If he pleads ‘guilty’ or even ‘nolo contendre’ it’s over. He’ll have no shot at providing a defense, no chance to tell his side of things.”

  “I still don’t understand where I fit in.”

  “Here’s the deal. I don’t want to discuss this on the phone. Can I ask you to come to my office in Wailuku?”

  “Now? It’s after seven. It’d be close to eight o’clock before I could get there.”

  “I know it’s late, but my brother’s life is at stake.”

  “Would you mind meeting me at my shop in Pa’ia? It’s about halfway between us.”

  He agreed and we hung up. He still hadn’t answered my question about why he thought I could make a difference, but I was flattered he’d asked.

  I got to my shop in record time since there’s never much traffic on Baldwin after dark on a Tuesday night. Never many speed traps, either. James arrived a few minutes after I’d turned on the lights.

  I let him in and headed for the back room. “Would you like tea?”

  “Love some. I don’t suppose you have any of Doug’s famous blend?”

  I stopped in my tracks and turned around. “You know about that?”

  “Doesn’t everybody?”

  “But you’re a lawyer.”

  “All the more reason I should know. How do you think my brother’s managed to stay out of jail all these years?”

  I filled the electric kettle. “Well, he’s in jail now.”

  “Yeah. And I appreciate you meeting me so late. If I can’t talk sense into him before his arraignment tomorrow, he’ll be shipped off to Halawa before the ink dries on the warrant.”

  Halawa, Hawaii’s maximum security prison, is on O’ahu. This makes it difficult for family and friends from the neighbor islands to visit inmates since the only way to get there is by air. Visitors without family on O’ahu usually have to come and go the same day since prices for rental cars and hotel rooms are geared to well-heeled vacationers, not local people with loved ones in prison.

  I pulled out two cups, teabags, and sugar. Steam rolled out the spout of the teapot. As I reached for the pot my hand slipped, sending a stream of boiling water onto my bare foot.

  “Ow, ow, ow.” I hopped around for a few seconds, then hoisted my burned foot into the sink and turned on the tap. The tepid water didn’t help much.

  “You should get some ice on that,” James said.

  “My mini-fridge gave out about a year ago.”

  ‘Then I’ll make this fast so you can get home.”

  James filled me in on how Sifu Doug had shown up at the main police station in Wailuku and turning himself in. “It was nuts. He walked in and said they could stop looking for whoever killed his wife. I’ve been doing criminal law for ten years and I’ve never heard anything that stupid.”

  “Did he do it?”

  “Who knows? When he called from the jail he told me he and Lani had had a fight and when she went out to the garage he followed her.”

  I screwed up my face, contemplating this implausible scenario. “So? That doesn’t mean he killed her.”

  “I know, but that’s how he phrased it.”

  “None of this sounds like Doug, does it?”

  “No. And here’s where you come in. He said you’d be able to back him up.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. He said he was counting on you to corroborate his story.”

  My foot was throbbing, making it hard for me to think. “I need to get some ice on this. But before I go, I need you to know I won’t be supporting Doug’s story. How can I? I wasn’t there, and he never said anything to me about planning something like this.”

  “Are you willing to say that to his face?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then come with me to the jail in the morning. We can get in to see him after eight. I’ll tell them you’re my paralegal.”

  “When is the arraignment?”

  “The judge usually rolls in around ten.”

  “That gives us plenty of time to get Doug to change his story.”

  He smiled. “No wonder Doug thinks so highly of you.”

  We shook hands. I limped out to my car, hoping I’d remembered to flip the little wire thing up in the ice-maker. Then I remembered Steve was staying with me. One of the great things about sharing space with a fussy roommate is you can always count on there being ice.

  Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well. Work was going fine, even though I didn’t have another wedding for a couple of weeks, but my personal life was up in flames like a divorcée torching her ex’s midlife crisis sports car. My best friend was fuming over me calling her “weird,” even though I’d given her a thousand bucks for something that had “woo-woo” written all over it. My husband hadn’t called back, so I hadn’t had a chance to explain why I’d been unable to take his calls earlier, and I was worried about his safety. Leave it to the military to sugar-coat a dangerous mission and then leave the family back home agonizing.

  Worst of all, a good friend was in jail for a capital crime I was hoping he didn’t commit, but was admitting he had. Why would Doug say that? And what about that shattered window in the back door? Had it been smashed during the fight, or had an intruder actually broken in? And if there was an intruder, why was Doug taking the fall?

  I hate it when there are a dozen questions and not even a handful of answers. And I really hate it when it keeps me up at night so I’m drowsy and dull-witted the next day.

  At four, I got up and called it a night. No sense staying in bed if I wasn’t going to sleep. I had four hours until James picked me up to go to the Wailuku jail. If things went right, James would convince Doug to plead “not guilty.” Then the police would have to get back to work finding Lani’s killer. If things went wrong, my sifu would probably spend the rest of his life in prison.

  Regardless of which way Doug chose to go, there was no way I could wrap my head around him killing his beloved wife, not even by accident. He was a man of integrity. And that left me wondering, if he didn’t do it, why would he lie?

  CHAPTER 13

  At five-thirty a.m. the sun still wasn’t up. I paced the kitchen floor, not looking forward to wearing footwear on my burned foot. James had instructed me to dress as if I worked in a law office which I assumed meant wearing something other than my usual crop pants, t-shirt and rubba slippas. I’d put on a black knit A-line dress and tried on a pair of strappy sandals but the burn on the bridge of my foot had begun to blister. I bandaged the wound and when I tried on the sandals again they were too tight. I dug in the back of my tiny closet for a pair of flats I couldn’t remember the last time I’d worn, and slipped them on before going out to my car.

  When I got to the Gadda, Farrah still hadn’t flipped the “closed” sign to “open” but my relentless banging brought her out from the back. I’d gone to the front door since the back door doesn’t have a window and she’s still spooked from the time a guy broke in and attacked her. Things were already tense between us; no use making it worse by creating unnecessary anxiety.

  “It’s you,” she said, stepping back without even so much as a pat on the arm. Farrah’s a hugger, so when she failed to make physical contact I was pretty certain the chip on her shoulder was still firmly in place.

  “I called but you didn’t pick up,” I said, explaining my hammering on the door.

  “Duh. Maybe you shoulda taken the hint.”

  She pointed at my feet and snorted, “What’s with the mainland shoes? You expecting snow?”

  I explained I’d burned my foot and was attending a meeting that morning. I didn’t go into specifics about going to the jail because I didn’t want to be a source of pote
ntial gossip.

  “What’re you doing here, Pali? You want your money back?”

  “C’mon, Farrah. This is crazy. We’ve been friends forever. If you want me to say I’m sorry, then I’m sorry.”

  She turned and walked behind the counter. “Yeah, so you said last night.”

  “But you’re still mad.”

  “It was so uncool to dis me to my man. After all the crap-o-la we’ve been through, I thought you were the one girl I could count on.”

  “You’re right, I was totally out of line. And I’m really sorry. Ono was mad at me for giving you the money so I just said what I thought he wanted to hear.”

  “You think he wanted to hear you call me a weird-o?”

  “No, I thought he wanted me to agree with him that a thousand bucks is a lot of money for something he doesn’t believe in.”

  “Okay, so he doesn’t dig it. But I do. And I know this kahu is gonna make things right for our family.”

  “Well, tell that to your husband, because he jumped all over me about it. But I’m not here to argue my case. I’m here to make up with you.”

  She quickly trotted around the counter. I wasn’t quite sure what would come next. Farrah and I have been friends for decades, but I still find her outlook on life a mystery. She’s been known to pout or fume over the smallest slight, but other times she’s done some pretty heavy lifting on my behalf and shrugged it off as if it were nothing.

  Her scowl remained as she leaned in and grabbed me in a tight hug. “No way I can be mad at my bestie for long,” she said. “And besides, I’m feeling real bummed about something.”

  “You mean about Doug and Lani?” I hoped Doug’s confession hadn’t been leaked, but I knew if it had, Farrah would be among the first to hear about it.

  “No, about you.”

  Just then, Ono came out from the back. “Well, look who’s here. Miz Money-bags. You come to pick up your first payment on the loan?”

  “Of course not.” Why on earth were these two people, both self-described “free spirits,” so obsessed with money?