It was time to face this head on. I would not do the “Mirror, mirror on the wall” routine. I did my business, washed my hands, all the time being careful to not look at my image again. No sense in tempting whatever this was. I jumped at the knock on the door. “Just a second.”
Was it him?
A kid's voice. One I didn't recognize. “Can you hurry? I gotta go bad.”
I unlocked the door, swung it open, and stepped around the miniature Batman who rushed past me while frantically struggling with his black tights. I closed the door and Kimu's voice returned.
“Talk to da director. She know what going on.”
I scurried down the hallway, nearly knocking down a princess as I cut around the corner. I steadied myself and looked at her. “Are you okay, Sadie? I didn't hurt you, did I?”
“I'm fine, mister. You look scared.”
“I'm okay.” It came out as a strange kind of croak, sounding more frog-like than human. I cleared my throat. “No worries.”
Sadie shrugged, one of those kid things where they simply accept what you've said and move on. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
I pointed down the hall. “Yours is the second door on the left.” I turned and nearly bumped into Chance and Sandra. Involuntarily, I took a step back into the hallway.
“You okay, McKenna?” Chance peered at me. He chuckled. “You look like you've seen a ghost.” He gestured around him. “We've got plenty.”
Other than my best friend's long-dead great-grandfather? No, no ghosts. “Maybe I'm just tired.” The truth was, right now I couldn't sleep if I tried. And I needed to get out of this hallway. I glanced over my shoulder and jumped when Sandra touched my arm. It was definitely time to get away.
“Let me get you some water.” She rushed away, her flaming red mane bouncing like a hair conditioner commercial with each step.
“Isn't she great?” Chance asked.
His gaze was fixed on Sandra as she bent over the water cooler and filled a cup. Uh-oh, older woman, younger man. Was Chance having second thoughts about Lexie?
“How does she know your dad?” I asked.
“They went to college together. She was always into art and history. They only had a few overlapping classes—you know, the general requirements. They just stayed in touch. She's worked all over the world.”
Maybe Sandra was older than I thought. “That would make her about fifty?”
“McKenna, what are you…oh, I get it. No, I'm not attracted to her in that way. I'm impressed by what she's accomplished despite the odds. A woman working her way up past the clerical level in museums around the world? It's a huge accomplishment.”
I smiled as Sandra handed me the cup. Took a sip. The pounding in my veins had settled down. Was it because I wasn't near him? Or was there something about being around people—living people? “Thanks. Chance says you've worked in different countries.”
“Stop bragging about me.” She giggled and shook her head. “I have been fortunate. Yes, I've worked in some of the best. This, however…” She stopped and gestured around the room. “This is a labor of love. I don't ever want to leave here. Nobody's taking this away from me.”
There was a slight edge to her voice, which made me wonder if someone had already tried.
“Anyway,” Chance said, “I told Sandra we'd find you near the restrooms.”
“Me, too.” The voice. Kimu's voice. It was faint. “Glad you here. You gonna get me out, yah?”
“What?” This was impossible. I couldn't be hearing Kimu, he was dead. And he didn't live in a museum. And…and…
Sandra's face flushed and she crossed her arms over her chest. “You found the case for our missing pōhaku.”
I swallowed hard. Missing pōhaku? How did a rock go missing? And how was Kimu involved?
Sandra pointed at the exhibit where I'd been hearing Kimu's voice. “We had to move it out of the main room because we were having new lighting installed before we opened.” Her cheeks were growing redder by the second. “I can't believe someone would steal a priceless artifact.”
“What da kine? Dat rock ain't priceless.”
I shook my head. Rubbed my temples. What did Kimu mean by that crack? Oh, crap. People were staring at me. Blank faces. Nobody else heard him.
“Are you sure you're okay?” Chance asked.
I glanced at the…for lack of a better term, the talking case. I wanted Kimu to shut up, and willed him to leave me alone.
“McKenna, you gotta take my case. Tonight's da deadline. This got to be done by midnight.”
What deadline? This was Halloween and he wanted me to steal a piece of furniture? I had to get out of here. I gulped, but couldn't leave before I satisfied my curiosity—was I crazy or not? “Why did you need new lighting?”
“Maile had to work it out with the donor.” She sighed. “Apparently, the family was unhappy because they felt the pōhaku wasn't properly featured.”
“What wrong wid you, McKenna? You don't believe me?”
Between Kimu's chatter and the hum from many conversations in the room, I could barely focus on anything. The world had coalesced into a deluge of sounds and images. There were people milling about, but the noise was…deafening. “Can we go outside?” I asked.
“McKenna? You can't leave! They stole the pōhaku and locked me in here. I only got until midnight!”
Maybe this was a joke. But there were too many other people. It could only mean…what? I was crazy? Kimu was inside my head? Killing myself wasn't an option. He'd probably be waiting for me on the other side. I breathed a sigh of relief when Sandra took my arm and led me to a side door marked “Staff Only.”
We stepped out to a small garden with a miniature waterfall surrounded by tall palms and hibiscus. The air, despite the humidity, refreshed me. No voices. No noise. No Kimu. The weight I'd felt on my chest inside the museum was gone.
I went to one of the chairs in the shade and slumped into it. “Close in there.”
Sandra took the other chair in the shade. “Our A/C went out. Worst thing possible for a museum.”
Oh no, don't tell me Kimu had screwed with the air conditioning.
Chance seemed content to stand. He took a deep breath, then frowned. “All the equipment was supposed to be new.”
“It is. Wiring, plumbing, heating, and air conditioning. We replaced it all. Spared no expense. We never wanted a problem like this. Even the security system is state-of-the-art. For all the good it did us.”
“What, uh, happened?” Threes. Bad things happened in threes. Was this related to my garbage disposal? What was next?
Sandra took a long, slow breath. She glanced in all directions. “Keep this just between us, okay? Chance, the reason I called your dad and asked for you to attend is because of the stolen pōhaku. We need to get it back before something really bad happens.”
Chance stared at Sandra, probably not fully comprehending what she was asking. But, I had a pretty good idea. O‘ahu was known for its paranormal activity; Hawai‘i for its myths and legends. Had it all converged here?
I chose my next words carefully. If I said the wrong thing, they'd both think I was a nut case. Which I probably was. At least for the time being I was a free man and not locked in a padded cell. “Sandra…are you saying…a spirit is…angry and wants to come home?”
She laughed. “Who knows? Maybe you're right. It's a rather crude analysis, but it may be true. I'm not a big believer in paranormal activity, but so many things have happened lately.”
The incident with Kimu felt far behind me, but I knew it wasn't. At least I could think out here. I could look at the facts analytically. “What things? Did it start when the pōhaku was stolen?”
“Two nights ago.” She licked her lips. “Eleven forty-four p.m.”
“You know the exact time?” I glanced up at Chance. My pulse quickened. I couldn't feel the presence as I had inside, but I had a strange longing to return to the talking display case. “Do you have it on the s
ecurity video?”
She shook her head. “That's when the video went out. It's also when the guard says I asked him to let me in.”
“You…” Chance stared at Sandra. “You were here? He let you in?”
Sandra shook her head. “I was home. I'd started working at six that morning and left at eight p.m. I was dead tired and nowhere near the museum. HPD is investigating, but there are no clues. It's like someone committed the perfect crime.”
“Let me guess, you were home alone and nobody can verify your whereabouts,” Chance said.
I groaned. Kimu. Screwing with my life again. Now he wanted me to investigate a robbery? The old surfer was known for his love of helping the underdog and so far the old guy had only shown up when I needed help solving a murder. And now he was trapped in a museum display case by some weird sort of Hawaiian voodoo woowoo?
“So you want help in solving the theft,” I said.
“Yes. Will you two do it? I'm desperate.”
“That depends,” I said. “Are we returning the pōhaku to its rightful owner?”
Sandra chewed on the red lipstick covering her lower lip for a moment. Red smudges covered the tips of her front teeth. Finally, she said, “Yes.”
Why had it taken her so long to decide?
Chapter 4: The Video
Once Chance and I had agreed to help Sandra return the missing pōhaku, we told her we needed to see the video footage from the night of the robbery. The video was stored by Red Hat Security in a facility with power and data backups. She also explained the facility was manned around-the-clock every day of the year. We couldn't physically go there, but she had the next best thing on her computer—a feed from the data center. We adjourned to her office for a look-see.
There were sixteen camera views of the museum. Four on the outside, twelve scattered around the inside. There was a camera pointing down the hall with the restrooms. When Sandra zoomed in on the scene, we saw the pōhaku in its case. The time stamp was 11:32 p.m. on Wednesday.
Throughout the museum, security lighting was the only source of illumination. A guard sat at a desk in one of the views. Sandra pointed at the screen. “That's Art. His brother is the president of Red Hat.”
At precisely 11:42 p.m., Art the Guard pressed a button and spoke into a microphone on his desk. A few seconds later, he stood and walked away, crossing through the various views until he was at the front door. At 11:44, he turned the key and the video footage turned to a snowy gray.
There was nothing for the next seventeen minutes. We checked every camera for the entire time. Nothing. Every camera was out for exactly the same period of time. At 12:01 a.m., the video came on and all cameras resumed normal operation. This time, however, Art was at his desk, slumped over. His hands were tied behind his back and he was sound asleep. The front door was closed, and there was nobody else in the museum.
We scanned the video for the next thirty minutes. Everything was normal. Someone had been in and out in seventeen minutes. “Pretty sophisticated operation. What else was missing?”
Sandra shook her head. “Not a thing. We inventoried every piece the next day. It took almost all day and threw us way behind schedule, but the pōhaku was the only piece taken.
“So they knew exactly what they wanted and how to get it.” Chance glanced at me, his brow slightly wrinkled. “You thinking what I'm thinking, McKenna?”
Probably not. I was trying to figure out how someone could steal a rock and trap a ghost in a museum display case in seventeen minutes. Forget the how, why would you even do it at all? Better to save those questions for later. I chose a safer route. “What did you have in mind, Chance?”
“I was thinking it had to be an inside job.”
I nodded. “Had to be.”
“All of the security personnel work for Red Hat.” Sandra ran a hand through her thick hair. Her frustration was apparent. “They're all vetted. And Art, well, like I said, he's the owner's brother.”
I tapped my fingers on the desk. Unbelievable. There had to be more to this. Some kind of clue. “Is there a recording of the conversation between the guard and the person who came in that night?”
“No. I wish there was.”
So did I. “Chance, any ideas?”
He seemed lost in thought. “I think we have to go back to who would want the pōhaku. We need a motive. Sandra, you said it's priceless, but what's its resale value?”
“Red Hat and the police are on alert to see if someone tries to sell it, but so far they have no leads. As for value, who knows? Sometimes priceless doesn't translate into dollars and cents.”
I thought back to Kimu's plea. Whether it was him or just my mind playing tricks on me, it raised another question. “What if the motive wasn't money? Maybe someone wants to keep it.”
“If that's the case, it might never be found.” Sandra shook her head. Her green eyes misted over. “I really wanted to be sure it was displayed properly.”
Chance reached out and took Sandra's hands in his. “What else is bothering you?”
There was more going on in her head than just the theft. Anybody could see her angst.
She sat up straight. “Nothing you should be concerned about. Finding and returning the pōhaku is my top priority right now. They say bad things happen when it's not happy.”
“And you believe that?” Chance asked, a slight smile on his face.
Sandra forced a nervous laugh. “No, of course not. I just want to be sure it's returned.”
Although Chance seemed willing to let things be, I wasn't satisfied with her response. “Sandra, if there's something else bothering you about this, you should tell us now. Sometimes it's the little things that lead to a big break.”
“No, it's nothing. I'm just having some personal troubles right now. It's just bad timing, that's all.”
Chance patted her hand. “It's okay. We understand.” He glanced sideways at me, then back to Sandra. “Where can we find the guard who was on duty? Can you get us contact information for him?”
Sandra gave us Art Hattenread's home address. We went down the stairs and came out smack dab in the middle of a small band of hula dancers from a local hālau. The hula school had brought an entire class, which consisted mostly of girls dressed in bright green tropical-print cotton tops and grass skirts worn over shorts that matched the tops. Two boys, one skinny as a post, the other quite chunky, rounded out the group.
We worked our way through the crowd and went to the front door. Just before I walked out, I thought I heard my name and peered back into the museum. Foreboding washed over me. The party atmosphere seemed out of place and time. Almost involuntarily, my gaze was pulled to the hallway where the Wahine Pōhaku display case stood. From here, it looked lonely and sad.
Before I turned and rushed out the door, I whispered, “I'll be back, Kimu.”
Chapter 5: Art
It was 1:14 p.m. on Halloween afternoon when we pulled up in front of Art Hattenread's apartment. We'd left the hustle and bustle of Honolulu behind for the smaller setting of Wahiawa in the middle of the island. Having never been in this particular neighborhood before, we'd been forced to rely on the GPS. Fortunately, it hadn't failed us.
The apartment building was on a small street with no other outlets. The street looped around and was lined with a mixture of small and large complexes. The road here was only two lanes, but the residents still parked on the streets, making the drive part obstacle course and part navigation test.
The complex in which Art Hattenread lived consisted of just a dozen units. Chance parked in an end spot right next to a “Slow” sign and a patch of browning grass.
I spotted Unit 9 on the second floor and pointed. “Good job. Let's just hope he's home.”
We climbed the steps and no sooner had we gotten to the door, than we heard a man's gruff voice. “Come on in.”
Chance entered first and I shuffled in behind. Standing on the far side of a kitchen counter with a mug in one hand and a coffee pot
in the other was a bull of a man—receding gray hair, wide facial features, and stocky. It took him no more than a few seconds for his intense, dark eyes to assess us.
“Mr. Hattenread?” Chance stepped forward, his hand extended.
“You got it. Sorry if I seem a little groggy.” He huffed and finished filling his mug. Hattenread's face was a roadmap of experience. Creases lined his forehead and his cheeks, which were slightly pudgy with excess fat and carried the baggage of worry.
He took a swig from his mug and continued. “Had to fill in again last night for one of our slackers. Getting harder to find people with a good work ethic anymore. The kids were never taught anything by their parents, the parents are tired of working, and the retired feel like they're entitled and have no interest except for marking time. Sorry, it gets to me sometimes. You must be Chance Logan. Sandra called and said you were coming.”
Hattenread extended his hand. He and Chance exchanged one of those long, power handshakes in which both tested the other. When it came my turn, I chuckled. “I give. You're stronger.”
He flushed and then laughed. “Sorry. My old man always got ticked off at guys who shook like a girl. I forget not everyone was raised like that. No worries. Can I offer you some coffee?”
We both declined.
He gestured at the dining table chairs and seemed inclined to consider his hosting duties satisfied. He took a seat and said, “Now, what can I do for you two gentlemen? Sandra said something about you investigating the robbery. That right?”
“Correct, Mr. Hattenread.” Chance pulled out the closest chair and sat. “Sandra showed us the video footage. She said you opened the door because she asked you to. Are you sure it was her?”
Hattenread pursed his lips and shook his head. “I don't know if it was her or not. The person on the other side said she was Sandra, but the voice was garbled. Anyway, the second I opened the door, someone sprayed me in the face and the next thing I knew I was tied up and bent over the desk. My back was killing me.”
“Your back?” I asked.
Happy Homicides 4: Fall Into Crime: Includes Happy Homicides 3: Summertime Crimes Page 51