She laughed. “Carmen’s suckered you, McKenna.”
A whiff of cigar smoke assaulted me. “Something stinks,” I said.
“Totally correct.” She glared at the source of the odor, a man standing on the edge of the pathway lighting.
Around us, lovers strolled, stopped, kissed. A family who had been picnicking on the grass was in the process of packing up. To our right, the waterfront shops and restaurants cast their beacons over the ocean. Iridescent surf crawled toward shore. A soft breeze on my face refreshed my resolve. “Tell me why you’re so upset with me. Please?”
“I’m not as upset with you as I am with myself. Carmen hasn't changed one bit. She’s been trouble since we were in high school.”
“Is this one of those family secrets? Something you guys locked away in a closet for a generation?”
“Too bad you didn’t see that before.”
I groaned. “Why didn’t you brief me?” Her grip tightened. Wrong, McKenna. You just stepped back into the quicksand. “Scratch that. I’m such a doofus. Why didn’t I pick up on your signals?”
“No, you’re right. I should have given you the 4-1-1. That's on me, and now you’re committed to helping her. I guess you might as well know the whole story.”
A couple who had been sitting on the pony wall stood. They took one last look around and strolled away, arm-in-arm.
“Let’s sit.” I motioned at the spot they'd vacated.
We took their places, and Benni watched the ocean for a few seconds. I waited. I’d screwed up enough for one night. I wouldn’t rush her, no matter how antsy I might get. I had to let this unfold in Benni’s own time.
“Carmen’s always been a total tech-girl. It was prom night. We were juniors. We both had dates, but she came down with ‘the flu’ at the last minute.” Benni made quotation marks in the air.
“Were you double dating?”
“Just like tonight. But that night, Carmen’s the one who broke it off. Since my date hadn’t made arrangements for a car, we had to get a ride with my parents. I was never so embarrassed in my life. My dad was a total disciplinarian.”
“Alexander said the same thing.” In fact, her brother had also revealed how much stricter their father had been with Benni.
“I spent the whole night feeling terrible after my dad told me how selfish I was. I went to see Carmen the next day. I was going to ask her how she was feeling or if she needed anything. It was weird because my dad guilt-tripped me into visiting her even though I was still angry. She was totally fine. When I said something, she told me she’d been banned from prom because one of her teachers had it in for her. She said he was coming on to her.”
Uh-oh, that sounded familiar, but I'd play this straight for the time being. “It must have been traumatic. Losing out on your prom night because of sexual harassment.”
Benni shook her head vigorously. “That wasn’t what really happened. Carmen only told me part of the story. I suspect she’s doing the same thing again.”
“What part of the story did she leave out? Teacher gets out of line, takes revenge. Sounds realistic.”
“That’s the key. It only sounds realistic. The truth was Carmen had made false allegations against the teacher and the incident was under investigation.”
“The allegations were false? How do you know?”
“Because the cops determined the teacher had done nothing wrong. You see, Carmen was taking revenge on the teacher. She totally lied.”
“Okay, I’m lost. The teacher wasn’t harassing her, but Carmen said he was. Why would she lie about something so important?”
“Because she was hiding something. It was all swept under the rug at the time, but Alexander eventually got the real story. Carmen got one of her friends to say she caught the teacher in the act, but it was all bogus. Her friend eventually confessed. She made up the story because Carmen paid her. There were no advances. No inappropriate conduct. Unless, of course, we’re talking about Carmen.”
Benni’s hand, warm and soft, slipped into mine. She gazed at me. My breath caught.
“Oh man, am I in over my head.”
“More than you can imagine.” Her eyelashes fluttered.
“We still have to walk back to the condo.”
“I hope you won’t be too tired when we get back.”
I forced down the lump in my throat. “I can, uh, muster some energy.”
We strolled slowly along the walkway. It suddenly occurred to me I hadn’t asked what terrible deed Carmen committed. Did I care? Yes. If she’d lied to Benni, she’d lie to me. There was only one way to find out.
“You said she paid her friend. Why? What could she have done that was so terrible?”
“You’re going to see this through?”
“My curiosity has gotten the better of me.”
Benni squeezed my hand, nodded. She sighed. “She was busy running a fairly lucrative business. She was fixing grades in the school’s computer system.”
My jaw fell and I stopped to look at Benni. “Carmen was a hacker?”
“A good one, too.”
James
Birds chirped outside the bedroom window. Morning light filled the room with its soft glow. Benni’s breathing at my side reminded me of where I was. I rolled onto my back and watched the ceiling. The owner built this condo “Bali style.” The only glass used on any of the windows was in the bedroom. All of the others had only screens for protection from the elements.
I lay there, staring at the clerestories above, wondering if there was a way to keep out the driving rain in severe weather. Maybe they had shutters or something. It definitely wasn’t as simple as closing a window. It had taken a day to adjust to the idea of no real protection from severe weather or burglars. But, why not? This was paradise.
Soon, the morning sun cast enough light to create distinct shadows. The air was fresh from last night’s rain, which had been a pulsating melody alternating between a gentle patter and the steady drone of a downpour.
I slipped from bed. Padded into the kitchen. Eased the bedroom door shut. Armed with the three C’s—coffee, computer, and curiosity—I set up shop on the lānai at the glass-topped table. I also grabbed a piece of the gluten-free coffee cake the manager had brought us from Maui Bakery.
The lānai was covered by a large overhang from the house. Part of the overhang was wood, part was a ribbed, translucent plastic. The final part was made of crisscrossing lattice, which created dappled shade in the afternoons. The table, with its weatherproof chairs, had become our favorite spot. On the long side, the lānai shared a wall with the living room. The glass-paned bedroom window looked out directly over the table and chairs. The koa wood couch, with its comfortable padding, beckoned. It was too early for a nap and I had work to do.
My search began by looking for James Pennant’s name. Not surprisingly, there were thousands of responses. I started reading through the list, but stopped when Benni appeared in the doorway. I winked at her.
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
“You just got up about fifteen minutes ago. Don’t give me that.”
“Coffee?”
She snickered. “You had your way with me and now you want me to make you coffee?”
“No, no. That’s not what I meant. I made some. Why don’t you…” I stopped when she burst into giggles. Had she just played me again? “I think you just had your way with me, didn’t you?”
“You can contemplate the mysteries of love while you search for James Pennant.”
“What makes you think that’s what I’m doing?”
Benni narrowed her gaze. Shook her head. “Seriously? I’m getting in the shower.” She bent over and kissed my cheek. “You’re way too easy.”
I didn’t hear her, but as she walked away, I was sure she was singing quietly. It was one more way in which we were different. How did a beautiful, former singer hook up with…well, me?
James Pennant quickly became more than just a name. First off, I learned he
was a Cubs fan. At least he owned one of their shirts. He also wore a fleece-lined jacket and a wool hat in his Facebook profile photo. Not your typical Hawaiian attire, which meant he’d probably moved here recently. From Chicago maybe?
According to his profile, he was twenty-five, single, and detested authority. He ranted about the Maui cops and how they'd singled him out for harassment with an assortment of parking tickets, traffic violations, and a misdemeanor charge. James was not your average upstanding citizen and, depending on how much truth there was in what Benni had told me about Carmen, he might be the perfect Clyde for her inner Bonnie.
Benni padded out onto the lānai. She was barefoot, had slung her damp hair over the bronze skin of her shoulder, and wore a “Lahaina” tank top and board shorts. She had a coffee mug in one hand, laptop in the other.
“Hey, island girl. You’re looking incredible.”
“And you’ve got a bad case of bedhead.” She propped the door open behind the other chair. “You turn up anything?”
I recapped what little I’d found. “Looks like you’re right, Carmen likes the bad boys.”
“Told you.” She stuck her tongue out at me.
Well, that was unexpected. And maybe a relief. We seemed to be back to normal. “I need more coffee. My next step is to check public records. There was a misdemeanor charge James was complaining about. He said it was all a setup by his landlord and the cops.”
“I’ll bet I can find the details before you’re done in the shower.”
“What’s the wager?”
“Loser has to do dishes.”
“You’re on.” I was up and in the door before she sat down. Within a minute, I was under the water freezing my butt off and praying for the hot water to kick in. I moved at lightning speed. This could be the fastest shower on record. And one of the coldest. The water temperature changed just as I was reaching for the faucet. I paused to absorb a small amount of the warmth, and the bathroom door opened.
“Petty theft. You lose.”
“Crap.” I heaved a sigh, stuck my head back under the hot water, and let it run. Why not? I’d already lost. If there was anything I hated more than washing dishes, it was losing.
When I returned to the lānai, Benni was sipping from her cup, a smug grin on her face, and had her feet propped up on my chair. “How was your shower?”
“You really know how to rub it in, don’t you? How’d you get the information so fast?”
“McKenna, I background check all my new clients.” She removed her feet from the chair and patted the cushion. “Sit. I’ll show you.”
I groaned, overly loud, rolled my eyes, and took my seat. Benni snickered and exaggerated each word of her explanation. It turned out James Pennant was accused of stealing from his former landlord. The initial accusation was that James had swindled Nicholas Hansen out of $1,295. After some sort of legal wheeling and dealing, James pled to the lesser charge of petty theft in exchange for probation.
“We’ll have to find out where this Nicholas Hansen lives.”
Benni slid a piece of paper toward me.
“Let me guess, Nicholas Hansen’s address.”
“And we can go there right after you finish the breakfast dishes.”
Nicholas
It was nearing ten when we pulled off the Lahaina Bypass onto Lahainaluna Road. Set in the foothills just outside the West Maui Forest Reserve, the neighborhood was like newer housing developments anywhere in the US. Paved streets. Sidewalks. There were some differences, though. Many of the plants growing in yards would die in colder climates. The retaining walls were made of lava rock. And, unlike the days when lava rock walls were constructed of pieces hand-matched to the one adjacent, these used mortar in the seams and crevices.
We had no trouble finding Nicholas Hansen’s address, an unremarkable home for the neighborhood. Two stories. Pale pink paint with white trim. Like many of the others in this development, he had a second-level lānai. It faced the street and was an outdoor extension of the bedrooms. Like the other homes, he had a carport but no garage. A silver Chevy Tahoe nearly filled the single-car space. Hopefully, Mr. Hansen was home.
“Are you sure this is the right address?” I pulled the paper from Benni’s hand and compared the numbers.
Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. “Let’s go in.”
Oh, good grief, she had the bug. I always called it the thrill of the hunt. I was sure she would have hated this. I smiled. “Why not? It’s the right street and the address matches. Besides, we drove all the way down here.”
Benni lowered her sunglasses on her nose and peered at me. “Seriously? All the way down here? It took us, what? Fifteen minutes?”
“Eighteen, but who’s counting? Come on.”
I knocked and a man answered the door. He looked to be in his sixties and in decent physical condition. There was a twinkle in his eye, the kind you see when someone loves life. Cordial was my goal as I greeted him.
“Good morning. We’re looking for Nicholas Hansen. Does he live here?”
His brow wrinkled. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want it.” Then he peered past me and his eyes widened. He smiled, not at me, but at Benni, who slipped by me. She reached out to shake his hand, but he took only her fingers and rotated her hand so it was palm down. “Nicholas Hansen, at your service.”
Benni flushed when he kissed the back of her hand. “Why thank you, Mr. Hansen. I’m Benni Kapono, and my friend is Wilson McKenna.”
“Oh no, my dear. Call me Nicholas. No formalities here. How may I help you?”
Who was this guy? Don Juan?
With her fingers still in Hansen’s grip, Benni leaned forward slightly and giggled. “Why Nicholas, I’m looking for a man!”
The old geezer at the door laughed like an underweight Santa Claus. Between the gray hair flowing gracefully to his neck, his sparkling eyes, and his charm, he was the picture of good cheer—and irritating as all get-out. Benni was my girlfriend, and he was trying to horn in? And she was flirting back?
“Come in.” He bowed and stepped to the side, sweeping his arm in a gesture of welcome.
I fully expected him to slam the door in my face, but he tilted his head a couple of times to indicate I would not have to wait outside. “Mahalo.” I held out my hand. “You can call me McKenna.”
“Ah.” He smiled. “One of those. Welcome, McKenna.”
One of what? I suppressed the growl in my throat. This wasn’t a dog park and we weren’t two mutts squaring off. Although it was feeling more like it by the minute.
The interior of Nicholas Hansen’s home was the picture of elegance. Almost-white marble tile everywhere. Pale beige paint, except the far wall which was done in a marbled combination of darker earth tones. A signed and numbered Anthony Casay print hung on the nearest wall. We’d seen the same one in a local gallery. If that sucker was real, the print alone cost more than our entire vacation.
“May I bring you coffee? Tea?” He let out another little ho-ho-ho laugh and lowered his voice. “Perhaps something stronger? It’s five o’clock somewhere.”
“Water would be fine,” Benni said.
“I’m good with water, too.” I glanced around the room while our host hurried away.
A baby grand piano filled one corner of the room. Two guitars hung on the walls. Were the instruments just an ego boost or was this guy the real deal, some kind of Renaissance man?
I had my answer when he returned carrying a silver tray with three glasses, a pitcher of water, ice, and sliced lemon. I wanted to stick my hand down my throat and throw up on his floor—but that would have been childish—and Benni would hate me for it. I’d been way too close to the doghouse once already on this trip, so I opted to remain cordial. “Lovely.”
Benni gazed around the room with wonder in her eyes. When she heard my comment, she began to gush. “Oh, Nicholas, you shouldn’t have.”
“Fortunately, I am having a small party this afternoon.” He placed the tray on
a glass-topped coffee table and glanced up at me. “I see you were eyeing the instruments. Do you play?”
“Only the radio.”
Neither the geezer nor Benni laughed. Man, talk about having an off week.
“A shame,” he said. “However, we who perform appreciate our audiences.”
Cut the crap, Chopin, we’re here on business. I cleared my throat, but my attempt to break up our little music-appreciation session was unnecessary.
“My dear, you said you were looking for a man. I would be flattered if I were so lucky, however, my sense tells me you may be looking for James Pennant. Am I correct?”
“Yes.” Benni stared at our host, her lips in a bewildered smile. “How did you know?”
“Alas, the pattern has become all too tedious. Since James left, my door has seen a steady parade of police, attorneys, and reporters. Which might you be?”
“Door number four,” I said. “None of the above. His girlfriend asked us to find him.”
His lips formed an “O.” “Which one?”
“Which one what?” I asked.
“Girlfriend.” He smiled at Benni. “Mr. Pennant was quite popular with the ladies. Quite popular, indeed.”
Benni glanced at me. Lost. Overhead, ceiling fans whirred in silence.
“Carmen Tyrell asked us to find James,” I said.
Nicholas pursed his lips. “That is not a name with which I am familiar. Carmen Tyrell, you say. Well, add another to his list.”
Benni’s earlier light mood was long gone, but my curiosity level was riding the express elevator. And Nicky boy had just pushed the up button. Carmen’s half-truths were stacking up faster than shells on the beach at high tide. Maybe James wasn’t her boyfriend after all. In that case, why would she want us to find him?
“Nicholas,” I said, “James was accused of stealing from you. He pled to a lesser charge, but we haven’t learned much about the crime. Would you tell us about it?”
“I don’t see why not. I’ve told the story many times. James moved in about six months ago. He immediately fell behind on his rent. He’d paid first and last, so when he said he couldn’t make the second month, I gave him the required thirty-day notice. He said he would go, but the following day he paid what he owed in cash.”
Happy Homicides 4: Fall Into Crime: Includes Happy Homicides 3: Summertime Crimes Page 87