The Scent of Waikiki

by Terry Ambrose

  “Surely she wouldn’t fire you for telling her the truth.”

  “You don’t know Skye.”

  “Oh, I know how she can be,” Chance said.

  “And you have to be caught in a tough spot,” I added. “I’m sure you don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but on the other hand you don’t want to be the one who covered up something important, either. Yah? Why don’t we keep this conversation between the three of us? You said she has enemies. What if we agree to not tell Skye what you tell us—would that work?”

  “What’s in it for me? Skye’s got this sixth sense and always finds people’s pressure points.”

  I doubted if she really had such supernatural powers of observation. It appeared she didn’t even know someone might have stolen her formula. “Don’t you think that Skye will be angrier if you hide this from her?”

  She sucked in a deep breath, stood, and walked around the front of the desk. Of course, Angela wore stilettos. And in my day, the length of her dress would have been cause for men to gawk and women make catty remarks. A hemline well north of the knee was apparently no big deal here at Island Passion.

  “Oh, I’m not going to hide anything.” Angela batted her eyes and smiled. “I’ve decided to let you tell her. Follow me.”

  CHAPTER 9

  In many ways, Angela was a younger version of her boss. She had a strut any runway model would envy and the looks to have easily found a career as a fashion model. And yet she’d chosen to work behind the scenes in the fragrance industry. Her personality seemed more consistent with being in front of a camera than behind a desk, but maybe there was a part of her I wasn’t seeing. If she was Skye’s personal assistant, there had to be a lot more to Angela Keating than a pretty face and a killer figure. I’d bet she also had a healthy amount of cunning.

  Angela stopped at an open doorway and rested one hand on the doorjamb. "Skye, there are a couple of guys here who want to talk to you about Primal."

  "I'm in a meeting, Angela."

  "It's Chance Logan."

  "Really? Wait...he doesn't have some old guy named McKenna with him, does he?"

  Angela nodded. "They want to know about the missing shipment."

  “Send them in."

  Stepping to one side, Angela seemed to pull into herself as she made way for a black woman dressed in jeans and a tank top. No stilettos. No pretense. This woman had a street-hardened look and never even gave us a sideways glance as she exited Skye’s office and strolled away. Angela leaned against the doorjamb, one leg crossed in front of the other, and feigned indifference toward the black woman, even though she couldn’t take her eyes off her as the woman headed toward the front entrance.

  "Thanks for your help,” Chance said as he passed within inches of Angela.

  Chance’s comment seemed to jar Angela out of the head space she’d been in just moments before. “My pleasure," she cooed. Even with her stilettos, she stood half a head shorter than Chance. Maybe it was just my imagination, but it looked to me like Angela melted when Chance passed her. When it came my turn to pass, it was as though the ice princess had regained her full power.

  By the time I entered the office, Skye was engaged in an overly friendly embrace with my partner. When he pulled away, she held his hands and said, “Oh, honey, you still look fantastic.” A moment later, she glanced my way and grimaced before returning her oh-so-adoring gaze to Chance. “How long has it been?”

  "Only a few months. But a lot has changed," Chance said.

  "You haven't changed a bit." She winked and laid a hand on Chance's chest. "Everything is still in all the right places."

  As far as I was concerned, one thing wasn’t in the right place—me. I might be persona non grata in this office, but I wasn’t about to shirk my wingman duties. Being dissed was never fun, but my reception here was better than the greetings I received when I was collecting money. The objects of my attention then typically showed their “enthusiasm” at treating me in ways even Angela or Skye might not have imagined.

  When I cleared my throat, Skye huffed and glared at me. I responded with a smile and a simple, “Good afternoon to you, too.”

  “Oh. McKenna, right?”

  “You remembered,” I said with just a hint of sarcasm. Personally, I thought I'd restrained myself quite well. "I hope we're not interrupting."

  "Nothing for you to be concerned about."

  I shot a glance over my shoulder at Angela. She still stood in the doorway, watching as though she expected something to happen. My expulsion, perhaps? When I turned back to Skye, she skewered me with a razor-sharp sneer, then grabbed Chance’s hand and started toward the conversation area.

  “Come. Sit.” She sounded positively giddy.

  Chance held his ground and it was obvious Skye could do much with her looks and attitude, but she could not move the mountain. I gave the kid credit, he appeared immune to her perfectly applied makeup, hair cut so it fell provocatively over one eye, and the low-cut blouse that left little—or perhaps a lot—to the imagination.

  "Nice office," I said. "Very modern."

  Skye pursed her lips and looked around. "It suits me."

  Indeed, it did. The room was over-the-top dramatic with a desk made of a glass slab on chrome stilts and equally ultramodern chairs with red leather seating that reclined at an unnatural angle. The entire office looked like it had come off a sci-fi movie set.

  “We’re here on business,” Chance said.

  I wanted to add—not monkey business—but resisted the urge.

  “Something to do with Primal.” She shot a glance at Angela, who shifted uncomfortably as she leaned against the doorjamb. Skye took a deep breath, let it out, and gestured at the two chrome-legged oddities in front of her desk. “Have a seat, gentlemen.”

  This was a side of Skye I hadn’t seen before—professional and to-the-point. It would seem we’d been accepted as a necessary interruption in her work schedule. In that case, why was Angela still hanging around? She held my gaze, but there were little frown lines around the corners of her eyes. Someone should tell her it was a very unbecoming look and made her look needy, not spunky.

  Skye waved away her assistant. “I’ve got this.”

  Angela wilted under her boss’s gaze. The confident, flirtatious young woman who’d greeted us stood twirling a long strand of hair between her fingers. She looked upset—or worried—when she finally darted away.

  Rather than parking myself in one of the horrible excuses for a chair, I really wanted to talk to Angela and find out what was going on with her. Not only that, but getting into a seated position would be easy. Back up? That was going to be a challenge. I grimaced as I practically fell into the stupid thing.

  When Chance sat, he glanced at me as though he expected me to take the lead. This, however, was his show. “Go for it,” I said.

  He shrugged and gazed coolly across the desk. “One of McKenna’s tenants came to him recently about a scam she’d fallen for. She lost everything and it appears Primal may have been used as the bait.”

  “Oh, Chance, you are so adorable when you get on that white charger of yours. You still want to save the world. How hot is that?” She fanned her face with one hand.

  Aha, this was the Skye we knew and feared. The seductress. Where had the businesswoman gone? And then I realized she’d gone nowhere. Skye knew how to blend sex and business. She’d turned the old game of sleep-with-me-or-else on its head and used it to her advantage.

  Chance leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. His smile was cool and confident. “I like helping people. That’s why I’m here.”

  Skye took the rebuke in stride, shaking her head as she gazed at my friend with parted lips. “So intense. You know how much I love intensity in a man. Don’t you?”

  "Let's stay on point, shall we? I'm engaged these days and very happy about it. Let's not make this more difficult than it needs to be."

  Engaged? Since when? An hour ago? I made a mental note to c
ongratulate him—on the engagement, or a brilliant lie—after this meeting. Knowing he could hold his own with the barracuda, I considered making an excuse about needing a restroom. If I got out of here, I could go back and talk to Angela, whose tongue might be a touch looser after the way Skye had dismissed her so abruptly. Then again, I couldn’t get out of here. Not without help.

  Skye winked and batted her eyes. “I’m open to sharing, honey.”

  Chance sighed as though he were dealing with a recalcitrant child while staring straight at her. “Let me be blunt—I’m not. Now, have you lost any bottles of Primal?”

  Her eyes turned hard and cold enough to freeze steel. Her lips pulled together as the muscles in her jaw and cheeks tightened. All flirtation and pretense evaporated into the ether. The businesswoman, the seductress, the wealthy divorcee—all were gone and had been replaced by an angry vixen who might lash out in any number of ways. Thank goodness we had that massive slab of glass she called a desktop between us.

  “What do you know about that?” Skye demanded.

  Chance leaned back in his seat and looked past her out the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the back wall. I wasn’t sure if he was ignoring her question on purpose or figuring out how to respond. Skye grew more impatient by the second.

  “Well?” The color in her cheeks deepened to a bright scarlet as she glared at Chance.

  The kid was playing with fire. I was sure he knew it. Why? I had to trust he knew what he was doing even though the stall tactic could blow up in his face. He rubbed his jaw and turned his attention from the million-dollar view to Skye. His tone remained cool and calm as he spoke. “You haven’t answered my question.”

  “Yes, I’m aware. Now tell me how you know about it.”

  “Just one bottle?” Chance asked.

  “No.”

  Chance looked at me, and that’s when I saw it. The look I called his black-belt face. Calm. Controlled. In a zone of mental focus capable of blocking out all distractions. I’d seen it before—right before he pulled some super-ninja martial arts move that took down his opponent.

  “I’ve come into possession of a bottle we believe to be either stolen or pirated. Based on your response, I take it you’re aware of the problem. Did you have an entire shipment stolen? Maybe the first one?”

  Skye’s breathing quickened. Double wow. Chance had just told another whopper with master precision. Skye had fallen for the lie, and now she was in a box with only one exit.

  I flinched when she slapped the glass desktop with one hand.

  “I want that bottle back!”

  Chance pursed his lips as he shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “Where is it? Where’s my shipment?” she seethed.

  “How many bottles were stolen?” Chance gave her the ninja stare.

  Instead of answering, Skye stood and planted her hands, palms down on the desktop. Her fingers squeezed against the glass surface as though she were going to rip through it. I found myself gripping the chair seat with the same intensity. Not because Skye was upset, but because I had a major survival problem going on—I couldn’t get out of this stupid chair.

  Skye snarled, “If you don’t turn that bottle over to me right now, I’m calling the police!”

  “I don’t think you will.” Chance shrugged and stood.

  My breath caught as I slipped into a moment of panic. If Skye did call the cops, I’d still be stuck when they arrived.

  CHAPTER 10

  The meeting with Skye ended in what could best be described as a stalemate. She wouldn’t reveal details about the missing bottles, and Chance never let on how little we knew. Angela wasn’t at her desk when we let ourselves out, which was unfortunate because I still wanted to talk to her. Even if we had seen Angela, there was still the complication of Skye—if she’d have heard us with her assistant, I’m sure she would have intervened.

  Unsure if Chance might be feeling depressed over having gotten nothing from the meeting, I remained silent as we left. At one point it looked like he was about to say something, but we both waited for the elevator in silence. Not until after the doors had closed and we were on our way down did Chance speak.

  “Do you think I blew it?”

  I shook my head and gazed at him. He was worried; for that matter, so was I. “I don’t know, buddy. I was surprised at how good you’ve gotten at lying. But did it work? No clue.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have told her I have a bottle?”

  “Nope. It was a good move. The problem is, I expected her to be grateful it showed up. Something strange is going on at Island Passion.”

  “Very perplexing. I’d liked to have talked to Angela again,” Chance said.

  “Me, too, but I was stuck in that ridiculous excuse for a chair.”

  Chance chuckled and gazed at me. “The look on your face when you sat down.” He snickered again and winked. “Priceless.”

  “Worthless,” I shot back. “That’s what they were. Just like that meeting.”

  The doors slid open, we exited the elevator, and Chance stopped. He looked at me and shook his head. “I’m not so sure about that, McKenna. We discovered something up there. I’m just not sure what.”

  “Me either.” We made our way to the Ferrari, then headed home, both of us seemingly lost in our respective thoughts. Our dour moods hadn’t lifted by the time we reached the Sunsetter Apartments. Chance told me he needed a little time to think, and I wanted to check in with Benni. We agreed to regroup in about an hour.

  The front door to my apartment was open and there were lilting voices coming from inside. I recognized both. One was Benni’s—high-pitched, playful, melodic. The other contained a hint of gravel. A note of authority— definiteness. It was a schoolteacher’s voice. That of a woman once used to ruling the roost over a flock of unruly fourth graders.

  It was Mrs. Nakamura.

  I looked over my shoulder, but Chance had already disappeared into his apartment. While he could head out to surf or practice his kung fu voodoo moves while he figured things out, I had nowhere else to go. Time to make nice with Mrs. Nakamura, even though she made me feel like one of her most difficult students.

  Benni, of course, had no such issues with the old woman. I opened the screen door, entered, and waved. They sat at the dining table, coffee cups in front of them. Knowing Mrs. Nakamura, there was no coffee in those cups. They were probably filled with green tea.

  “Hey, McKenna.” Benni rose, approached, and gave me a quick kiss.

  I let my hand rest on her back as she leaned in, breathed in the scent of ginger and plumeria she wore today, and savored the moment. “I can’t wait until this whole thing with Grace is over,” I whispered.

  She nodded, smiled, and kissed me again. My euphoria evaporated at the sound of Mrs. Nakamura’s gravelly voice.

  “Mr. McKenna, you have been working with young Chance?”

  Heat rose into my cheeks. What was it about this old woman that scared me so? Even Chance called her Auntie. She and I were the only ones who had not dropped the formal pretense.

  “We went to follow up on a lead.”

  “Grace should not have allowed her desperation to rule her thoughts. She is now paying a high price. It is my hope you will be able to assist her.”

  I cleared my throat. Okay, now I was under orders from Mrs. Nakamura to help Grace. “Chance and I are doing our best.”

  “Young Chance has much to learn. He has enthusiasm; you have experience. Together they are a formidable instrument.”

  What was the old woman saying? Find the dirtbag who scammed Grace…or else? “Mrs. Nakamura, these types of scams are quite difficult to solve. It appears someone really did steal a shipment of the perfume Grace thought she would be getting. We have no idea how big this thing is.”

  “I see.” Mrs. Nakamura lowered her gaze, slowly, patiently. She gestured at one of the empty chairs. “Please, sit. We have much to talk about.”

  Oh, great. Detention, again. In my own home.
I hated it when she took control like that. It gave me the feeling she knew something I didn’t, but was unwilling to reveal her little secret. I glanced at Benni with raised eyebrows.

  She went back to her seat, took a sip from her cup, and smiled. “Auntie and I were discussing the wedding. She knows an excellent musician she says would love to help.”

  Wedding talk? As long as the subject of Sarah the Chaplain didn’t come up it was way better than Grace’s problem. “That’s great. Music has been one of our sticking points. Who’s this musician? Anybody we’ve heard of?”

  “Eb and Flo,” Benni said.

  I blinked at her. “They’re huge. How are we going to get—afford—them?”

  “It will be my contribution.” Mrs. Nakamura bowed slightly.

  I stared at her, then stammered, “But…but…”

  “It is done, Mr. McKenna. They were both students of mine. It was I who introduced them to music and each other. They have always been very accommodating when I have a special request. Now, enough of the wedding planning. I have also spoken with Grace this morning. It is why I am here.”

  “I figured she must have said something to you.” They’d spoken this morning? Knowing Mrs. Nakamura, she now knew a great deal about Grace’s little fiasco.

  The old woman paused and sighed. Her bony fingers, looking much like an eagle’s talons, curled around her cup. She took another breath. “It is possible I may have caused Grace to take an unwise action.”

  “You?” I gawked at her. “That’s hard to believe. You’re so…” I was going to say rigid, but that felt harsh. “Deliberate. In your advice, that is.”

  “You are kind, Mr. McKenna. However, this old woman is finding it increasingly difficult to remain true to her course.”

  Benni reached across the table and clasped Mrs. Nakamura’s hands. “Oh, Auntie, you’re still as sharp as ever.”

  “No, child. I am not.”

  A wave of sadness washed over me. Even though she made me nervous, Mrs. Nakamura was a rock. A fountain of knowledge. I cleared my throat at the realization she would not live forever. “What did you say to Grace that might have caused so much trouble?”