Sleuthing Women II

by Lois Winston

  “Then why are you grinning like the Cheshire cat? It sounds like the chair could have come from anywhere.”

  “Except…” He raised a finger in the air for emphasis. “…except the marina puts a small sticker with their name on each of their lounge chairs. Then there’s no confusion about who owns the chair, with so many on the island.”

  I thought back. “A blue sticker, right?”

  “Right.”

  “I remember seeing one on the back of the chair. I didn’t think anything about it at the time.”

  “Me, either. But I noticed it, too, Lee.”

  “Hmmm. So the chair came from the marina, for sure.”

  “Originally, yes. But it could have been taken from there as long ago as five years.”

  I looked at Gurn in surprise. He smiled.

  “That’s when the marina started buying these particular chairs. So it’s a clue, but not a strong one.”

  “So we’re still going to dinner tonight as Nick and Nora Charles,” I said.

  “I thought we were Nancy Drew and Joe Harding.”

  “I like Nick and Nora Charles better.”

  “Whatever you say, darling.” He leaned in. “But we’ve got an hour until dinner.”

  I leaned in, too. “Oh? Any ideas on what to do until then?”

  “Let’s just see what transpires.”

  We kissed. On to whatever transpired.

  SEVEN

  Robin and Ken Margolis and the Henrys, Don and Anna, sat with us around the elegantly dressed dinner table. A linen tablecloth, sparkling silverware, candles flickering in the soft breezes, and the moonlit ocean served as a backdrop for what would have been, in any other circumstances, a fun and sumptuous meal.

  The partners of each of the two couples were as different as Mutt and Jeff. Robin was a tall, angular woman, tan with a short, no-nonsense hairdo, spending most of her days in Hawaii as a surfing instructor. Her husband, Ken, was a pasty-looking, short guy with a paunch, who spent the bulk of his days as head cataloger for the local public library.

  Then there were the Henrys. Don resembled his sister, and could well have been an actor playing the mature, all-American hunk; rugged, muscular, skin burnished from years of exposure to the sun. His was a quick, ready smile or sassy comment made at every turn. He had what is called charisma. I am very suspicious of charismatic people. In the past, they have been known to sell snake oil.

  By contrast, Anna, his wife, was a small, shy woman, contributing little to the evening’s conversation or fun. She sat in her brown, plain dress, steel-grey hair pulled back in a bun, looking more like an attendee at a New England funeral than a vacationer in Hawaii.

  I was reminded once again how opposites supposedly attract. Glancing in Gurn’s direction, I thought, maybe not always. Gurn and I had so many similar traits, likes, and dislikes it was almost frightening. Did that mean our marriage was more likely to last than others? Or was it doomed because of it? Adjusting the small cluster of fragrant, pink Plumerias in my hair, I vowed the next time I was in Greece to ask the Oracle of Delphi what her take on it was.

  Dinner was nearly over and I’d asked a lot of questions, but tried to keep my interrogations light and breezy. All six of us chose after dinner cordials, Gurn’s and mine were cognac, and we sipped and conversed like old friends. But we weren’t. We were strangers. And there was a murder to solve.

  “What drew you to Northern California from Wyoming, Don?” I looked across the table at the attractive man, probably in his early forties, and smiled as ingenuously as I could.

  “Just like my sister, I hated the weather in Wyoming,” Don said. “Especially the winters.”

  Everyone laughed, as expected.

  “You’d really like the weather here, Don,” His sister, Robin, said covering his hand with hers. She turned to us, with a laugh. “I’ve been trying to get him to move to Hawaii for years.”

  “I know, Rob,” Don replied. “But I’ve got a good business going in El Dorado.” Don turned to Gurn. “And someone’s got to put out the forest fires when they happen. Right, Gurn?”

  The two men smiled and I was struck by how much they resembled one another in stature and coloring, especially from a distance. Both tall and well built, Gurn’s hair was sandy brown with streaks of sun-washed blonde, and Don’s was light brown with specks of grey. Even though Gurn was six or seven years younger, it would be easy for someone to mistake one for the other, especially, as I say, from a distance.

  “That’s right, Don,” said Gurn. “Imagine my surprise after seeing you at the blaze in Sacramento to find you here on the beaches of Kauai. Small world!” He raised his glass in a toast and smiled, but didn’t mean it, any more than he’d meant it with Detective Kim. That’s when I knew Gurn noticed the physical similarities, too.

  Ken Margolis, the quietest of the men finally spoke up, looking from Gurn to me. “I didn’t want to say anything during dinner, but you two had quite a morning, didn’t you?” He shook his head. “That poor woman.”

  “What poor woman?” Robin, his wife, looked at him.

  Anna Henry shocked me by actually speaking. “Lee and Gurn found a dead woman on the beach. Dead! It’s all so horrible. I don’t want to think about it.” She shivered. Even though it was a warm eighty degrees, Anna drew her dark shawl around her.

  Color, color! The woman needs color. And some lipstick! Where are the fashion police when you need them?

  “We heard about that on the news driving to the restaurant,” said Don, unaware of my mental wanderings. “Janet somebody or other. I didn’t get her last name.”

  “Janet Bernstein,” I said, easily. “She was from Sacramento.”

  “Janet Bernstein,” Don repeated slowly. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

  “Her company catered the breakfasts for us during the wildfire in Sacramento last summer,” said Gurn.

  “No kidding,” Don said. “Man, it is a small world. What was she doing in Kauai?”

  “On vacation with friends,” I said.

  “Did you ever meet her?” Gurn’s green grey eyes took on a steely glint as he watched Don’s reaction.

  Don looked down and thought for a moment. Was he really thinking or was he avoiding eye contact with Gurn? I couldn’t tell. Finally, he answered.

  “I don’t know. Did I? If so, I can’t remember. It was so crazy, so many people coming and going. And I was dead on my feet. Remember how we had to sleep in our planes until they set up the hanger for us? What a mess. But we put that fire out.” He raised his glass in a toast to Gurn.

  “We did, indeed,” Gurn responded, smiling genuinely now. He raised his own glass to return the toast.

  EIGHT

  “Okay,” said Gurn. “So after an evening of eating, drinking, and asking every question we could get away with, what have we got?”

  Gurn turned the key in our bungalow’s door, opened it wide, and stood aside to let me pass. I pulled out my phone and stepped inside.

  “Not much. We can’t rule Don out, but we can’t say for certain he’s the one, either.”

  “Should we turn everything we have over to the police? Leave it in Detective Kim’s trusty hands?”

  He put his arms around me and drew me closer to him. I nestled into him for a moment then looked up into his face.

  “With Richard doing his thing on the mainland? He would be insulted.”

  Gurn threw back his head and laughed. “I was hoping you’d say that. We forge ahead then.”

  “We do.” I pushed away from him and concentrated on my phone. “Speaking of Richard, I’ll check my texts to see if I got anything further. Oh, great. A missed call from Mom. She’s probably going to have to have extra Botox injections to erase the frown lines from all this worry. I’ll call her back in a minute.”

  “Your mother does Botox?”

  “Forget I said that, Gurn. File it in the need to know bin.”

  I scrolled through my text messages. “I knew it! My brothe
r comes through again. Here are five messages from him.” I read the first one. “According to what he dug up on Larry Karlston’s airline history, Larry made six trips to San Francisco in the past eighteen months, ostensibly on business. Plus, this hotel is owned by his wife’s parents, free and clear, and Killer Carla is their only child.”

  “She’s a force of nature, isn’t she?” Gurn let off a small laugh.

  “Is that southern for one nasty broad?” Gurn hails from Charlotte, North Carolina. Like all of us, his roots are firmly planted, even though his accent has gone with the wind.

  “A gentleman never says anything derogatory about a lady,” Gurn said, with a wink. “But let’s add Larry to the top of the suspect list.”

  I went to the next message from Richard and read aloud again.

  “Don Henry has a very successful crop dusting service, according to his tax return. Richard says his return has been made public record, because Don’s running for mayor and wants to be above board.”

  “With political aspirations, it doesn’t do well to have a mistress on the side,” said Gurn.

  “If that’s the case,” I added.

  “If that’s the case.” Gurn grinned his lopsided smile at me. “Not every man going into politics has a mistress on the side. Just the ones who make the papers, right?”

  I laughed and read the next message, which sobered me instantly.

  “Wow!”

  “Wow what?”

  “Five years ago Anna Henry was a social worker and left her job under a cloud. It seems that one of her male clients registered a complaint that she struck him. She said he’d made unwarranted advances to her and she slapped him in self-defense. But before it went any further she quit her job, and spent the next three months in therapy. Some sort of breakdown. She’s had several breakdowns in recent years.”

  “Good luck to Don if that ever comes out. Voters don’t like any kind of mental health issues. And Anna seemed like such a quiet, bland woman.”

  I became quiet, myself, reading further. “Well, well. Caroline Osborne’s ex-husband had a fling with Janet Bernstein a couple of months ago. He met Janet after he showed up at Royal Bites one day. That’s a big no-no.”

  “What ‘s a big no-no?”

  I looked at Gurn in surprise. “Never fool around with another woman’s man, even if he’s her ex. Unwritten law.” I looked down again and continued reading. “When Caroline found out about it, she went to her ex’s apartment and had a knockdown, drag-out with him. The neighbors called the police and it wound up in the papers the next day.”

  “And yet,” Gurn said, “Caroline still came on this vacation with Janet.”

  “The two women might have patched things up, at least on the surface. Possibly Caroline made plans to get revenge here in Kauai.” I thought for a moment before saying, “I wonder how easy Strychnine is for any of these people to get ahold of?”

  “I’d say easy enough. Larry Karlston has access to a number of pesticides here at the hotel, including rat poison. I saw some in their storage rooms when I did a little snooping.”

  “Did you? Nick Charles to my Nora.” I kissed him lightly on his left cheek.

  “Always,” He said, pointing to his right cheek. “You forgot this one.”

  I gave him another brush of a kiss before I mused some more. “Don Henry must use all kinds of pesticides in his crop dusting business. Who would notice if an ounce or two went missing?”

  “And don’t most food preparation businesses keep pest control products near at hand for unwanted night visitors?” Gurn went on. “I’ll bet Caroline Osborn would only have to reach inside the Royal Bites’ larder for something lethal.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Four strong suspects with possible motive, opportunity, and means.”

  “I can only think of three. Let’s see, Larry Karlston, Don Henry, and Caroline Osborne. Who are you thinking of? Carla Karlston?” Gurn stopped, thoughtful himself. “I’m thinking no on Carla. She strikes me as the type who’d kill both of them in broad daylight.”

  “And probably with a hatchet,” I added. “But we need to consider Anna Henry. You can never tell about people. If she’s unstable, who knows what could have happened? Especially if Don had a fling with another woman and she found out about it. She could have just as easily taken pesticides from his business as he could.”

  “Well, let’s leave it for now.” Gurn looked at me and yawned. “We’ve done enough for one day. Time for bed.”

  “In just a minute, darling. Thinking something through.”

  “Well, I’m going to bed,” Gurn said, giving me a quick hug. “Don’t stay up too long.”

  I nodded vaguely, mind already searching inward. Five minutes later, I speed dialed Richard’s number. I drummed fingernails on the table waiting for him to pick up. It felt like forever. When he finally did answer, I was almost churlish.

  “You sure took your time getting to the phone.”

  “Well, excuse me.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “But I was asleep. It’s two o’clock in the morning.”

  I heard a rustling sound, as if he was getting out of bed. I looked at my watch and felt a guilty flush spread over my face.

  “Oh, Richard. I didn’t even think about the time. And for you, it’s two hours later. I’m so sorry. But this is important, I swear,” I added.

  “Hold on,” he muttered.

  I waited, hearing further movement. Then he spoke in a more normal tone.

  “I’m in the hallway now. Thankfully, I had the phone on vibrate, so Vicki and the baby slept through. What’s up?”

  “Richard, I’ve been looking at it all wrong.”

  “What? Janet’s Bernstein’s death?”

  “Yes.”

  “Go on.”

  “I’ve got an idea, but I need you to dig up a few facts.”

  “Now or in the morning?”

  “Now.”

  “Okay.” His groan came long and loud. “Who needs sleep, anyway? Shoot.”

  NINE

  There was a knock at the door. The morning’s sun was bright and warm, streaming in the opened sliding glass doors of the lanai.

  “Come in.” I sat in my usual chair with my bound ankle up in its usual position on the ottoman. This ankle thing was so old.

  Kim entered wearing his hipster fedora, jauntily set at an angle. A smile flickered across his face, as he walked closer to me.

  “Good morning, Ms. Alvarez. You left a message to call you?”

  “Good morning, Detective Kim. And it’s Lee.”

  “Lee.” Kim removed his hat and his smile became full out. “I thought I’d drop by, instead, especially when you said you had more information on the Janet Bernstein murder.” He looked around him. “Where is Mr. Hanson?”

  “He went on a sunrise cruise this morning. He should be back in about an hour, around eleven.”

  “You didn’t go?”

  “Not with my ankle. Besides, I don’t like boats. You have one, though, don’t you? Tied up at the marina next door. Gurn watched you board a rather nice sized motorboat last night. Sit down, won’t you?”

  I gestured to the sofa. He sat. I noticed his wedding ring glinting in the morning’s sun, as he took off his hat.

  “I see you’ve been checking up on me, Lee. May I ask why?” He tossed his hat on the coffee table in front of him. His smile never wavered.

  “Turnabout’s fair play. By the way, I like your wedding ring. Rose gold. Not a common choice in gold tones. The same hue as Janet Bernstein’s anklet.”

  “Many people like rose gold, Lee.” He cleared his throat. “So what did you want to tell me?”

  I didn’t answer, but said, “I didn’t realize how successful your wife’s law firm was until I looked her up on the Internet. She has one of the biggest firms in Hawaii.”

  “Ah! The Internet. The investigator’s best friend.”

  “I also found out that you make frequent trips to San Francisco, and have done so, for ne
arly three years.”

  “My wife and I often fly in to see the San Francisco Opera. It’s a chance to get to the mainland and see good opera. Do you like opera, Lee? We have a yearly subscription.” His broad smile revealed gleaming teeth.

  “I do,” I said, smiling myself and matching him tooth for tooth. “But you haven’t always gone with your wife.”

  His smile wavered. “Ah! More checking up. What brought this on?”

  “Initially, something small. The first time you mentioned Janet Bernstein’s name, you called her Jan. It didn’t strike me as odd at the time, but I came to find out later only people who knew her well did that.”

  Kim threw back his head and laughed. “Is that all? You are making a fool of yourself, Lee. I thought you were a better investigator than this. This is a pathetic attempt to take the focus away from your husband’s guilt.”

  “Or one could say you are using my husband to take the focus away from your guilt.” I settled back in the chair. “Once I was on to you, it was fairly easy to go back and find your own motive, opportunity, and means.”

  He picked up his fedora and began to twirl it in his hands. “This is ridiculous, but go on.”

  “Let’s go back to the opera. Janet Bernstein was a volunteer at the San Francisco Opera Shop. Knowing her style, I suspect it was worth it to her to travel from Sacramento to San Francisco on the chance she’d strike up an acquaintance with a rich man. She was there for a few of the operas you attended. You met her and one thing led to another.”

  Kim stopped twirling his hat and was silent. I went on.

  “You bought her nice things, like that diamond and gold anklet.”

  “You can’t prove that,” he interjected.

  “Yeah, I can. A San Francisco jeweler was shown your picture and remembers you, not just from the hat you’ve got in your hand, but that you paid in cash. An odd thing in this day and age. I’m thinking your wife probably goes over the monthly credit card bills. But back to Janet. She thought you were rich. You’re not. Your wife is. But something like that wouldn’t stand in Janet Bernstein’s way, though, not the woman I’ve been researching.”