The Scent of Waikiki

by Terry Ambrose

  “For sure, brah. Both her and Stephen are on tonight.” He glanced at his watch and scrunched up his face. “One thing about Stephen is he’s always early. I don’t know why he ain’t here yet.”

  I took a sip of my pina colada, savored the sweet coconut milk and rum combination. For years, I’d avoided rum drinks because I hadn’t realized plain rum was gluten-free. Since I’d learned which rums wouldn’t cause a reaction, I’d decided to enjoy this island delight whenever I could. And since Chance was buying, this was one of those times.

  “Good job.” I gave Henry a thumbs-up, then winked at Chance. “Make sure you tip well. I don’t want this guy thinking we’re cheap.”

  “We?” Chance glared at me and snorted. “No worries, McKenna. I won’t make you look bad.”

  “Too late for that.” Henry winked at me and smiled.

  Great. I had something in common with Skye—a reputation that preceded me. “What about Bootsy?” I asked.

  “That girl don’t know the meaning of being on time.” He stopped, looked at the front door, and his eyebrows went up in surprise. “Guess I was wrong. She just walked in.”

  Chance and I kept our backs to the door. I think we both had the same thought. Bootsy had been reluctant to talk at her apartment. If she saw us before she got into the restaurant, she might leave. The clip-clopping of someone’s slippahs came closer, and then I heard Bootsy’s voice.

  “Hey, Henry.”

  He acknowledged her with a hand gesture, then pointed at the two of us. “These guys want to talk to you.”

  When we turned, the expression on her face fell.

  “Remember us?” I asked.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at me. “What do you want?”

  I considered pulling out my phone and showing her the photo of the business card for Club Mystique and asking her if the writing was hers or Stephen’s. But if I did that, she’d know we’d broken in. “So what do you do here?”

  “I’m a server.”

  “We were here last night for dinner,” Chance said. “I don’t recall seeing you.”

  “I’m off Tuesdays and Wednesdays.”

  “Why are you so defensive about what went on at Angela’s onTuesday night?”

  Bootsy’s forehead wrinkled ever so slightly. She grabbed a strand of her dark hair and twirled it, eying me as the creases in her forehead deepened. “What are you implying? Do you think I had something to do with it?”

  It? As in murder? She definitely had to be holding back.

  “Not at all,” Chance said. “We’re trying to figure out what you might have ‘forgotten’ to tell us when we talked to you this morning.”

  Henry had been eavesdropping and polishing the same section of the bar for the last couple of minutes. What did he think, that we couldn’t see him there? That we mistook him for one of the houseplants?

  “Hey, Bootsy, you can trust these guys. They part of my ‘ohana.”

  Okay, I had to admit it. That was a nice touch. Chance started to say something, but I stopped him with a small head movement. Bootsy stared at the same spot on the floor for a minute, her arms crossed, the creases in her brow deepening. When she looked at Henry, her expression softened. “For real?”

  I waited until Henry nodded, then said, “We’re not trying to cause you trouble. We think Angela’s death was suspicious. I think you’d agree, wouldn’t you?”

  There was a long hesitation before she answered. “Yes.”

  “Then help us understand what was going on with her.” I pressed my lips together and hoped she would corroborate what Claire and Stephen had told us. “You said earlier that Joseph was a mean guy. Do you think he was abusing her?”

  Bootsy shook her head. “I don’t know for sure. Those two argued a lot. At least, that’s what Angela told me. And they did get into it that night. I was angry this morning, but from what Ang told me, Joseph loved her. She said he had proposed, but she didn’t want to accept because there might have been another guy.”

  Chance seemed satisfied, but it wasn’t good enough in my opinion.

  “Do you know who this other guy is?” I asked.

  She nodded, glanced around the room, and sighed. “Is Stephen here yet?”

  “Ain’t seen him,” Henry said with a somber expression. His brow wrinkled as he looked at me. “Like I said, brah, he’s always on time.”

  I nodded quickly and looked back at Bootsy. “Were they arguing about this other guy?”

  “Angela never told Joseph…”

  “Then what were they arguing about?” I snapped. Enough of this dancing around. Bootsy was starting to annoy me.

  Her dark lips formed a thin line and her eyebrows, fine and well-manicured, came closer together. Something was troubling her. Something deep.

  “Well?” I demanded.

  “Emily in 204 called me because she heard them arguing. I run errands for her sometimes, and she asked if I could check on Angela. Angela had left the front window open, so it was easy to hear them. It didn’t sound violent, so I just left.”

  Henry was again trying to look invisible as he listened in. He also had that look on his face that people get when they’re biting their tongue.

  “What’s up, Henry?” I asked.

  “Come on, Bootsy. Tell ‘em the whole thing.” He glanced up as a young couple approached and acknowledged them with a tilting of his head toward two empty spots further down the bar. Then he drifted away to take their order.

  “The argument? What was it about?” Chance leaned toward Bootsy, his patience obviously growing as short as mine.

  She hung her head, shook out her hair, and looked up. “This whole secret’s been eating at me. Look, I made a couple of mistakes back in LA. The judge gave me a suspended sentence, but if—I think Angela stole something from work. Joseph was in a full-on rant about how she could lose her job and go to jail if she didn’t return…whatever it was.”

  “They had to call it something,” I said.

  “A box. They just kept talking about some box Angela took. He wanted her to return it. I don’t know what it was and I didn’t want to be involved. Just hearing the conversation—doesn’t that make me like an accessory or something?”

  “You’re a witness, that’s all,” Chance said.

  “As long as you tell the truth,” I added.

  “McKenna’s right. If you withhold the information, that’s when you could get in trouble.”

  Bootsy swallowed hard several times. She had a slender neck, which she stroked with her fingers. “I look terrible in stripes,” she croaked, then gave us a weak smile.

  “You won’t go to prison,” I assured her. “You just need to come clean. What are you not telling us?”

  “Joseph was demanding that Angela give him the box. He said he could return it undetected. I don’t know how he was going to do that, but that’s what he said. It sounded like they were getting to some sort of agreement, so I went next door and told Emily they’d worked it out.”

  “And there was no mention of this other man?” Chance asked.

  “Not while I was there.” She shook her head, then glanced around the bar and called to Henry. “Have you heard from Stephen yet?”

  He drifted toward us, frowning. “Kinda unusual, yah?”

  “I hope he’s okay.” Bootsy shot another glance toward the elevators.

  Why was she so worried about Stephen? Unless—did she think something might have happened to him? Did she know for sure? I peered at the pretty girl with dark hair dressed all in black. “We’ve heard you introduced Angela to Stephen. Is that true?”

  “Who told you that?”

  I ignored her question and pressed harder. “Is it true?”

  “Yes,” she nodded, then hung her head. “We came here for happy hour one night. Stephen was working. Actually, I got Angela to come here as a favor to Stephen. He wanted to get into the business, and she worked for Island Passion. I don’t know; it seemed like they could be
friends.”

  “Just friends?” Chance asked.

  Bootsy laughed. “I don’t know. Maybe there could have been more. Stephen’s a great guy, and they hit it off. He even gave her a bottle of perfume he’d made.”

  I sat up straight and looked at her. Was one of those unmarked bottles I’d found in Angela’s apartment from Stephen? Maybe both of them? “So he knew you were bringing her here?”

  “Stephen gave all the girls a bottle of custom perfume. When he gave me mine, that’s when I told him about Angela. He asked if I could introduce them. He said he wouldn’t hit on her or anything like that. Everybody deserves a shot at their dream job, right? So…I kind of set it up.”

  “They sat right over there,” Henry said as he pointed at a table for four over by one of the palms. “You shoulda heard them. They was rocking the bar.” He chuckled and began polishing the already gleaming surface again.

  “Henry, you’re going to wear out that towel,” I said.

  He smiled sheepishly, but didn’t stop. “Occupational hazard,” he said with a chuckle. “You gotta do what you gotta do, yah?” He exchanged a glance with Bootsy, then added, “Be right back.”

  As Henry walked away, I turned back to Bootsy. “Did they see each other again?”

  “Several times. In fact, Stephen said they were having lunch a couple of days later. It sounded like they were both getting something they wanted out of the relationship.”

  I craned my neck forward, hoping Bootsy would get the message—do tell. Instead, it looked like she might start to shut us out again. It was time to be less subtle. “What was Angela getting out of it?”

  “A friend. Someone to talk to.” She shrugged and smiled weakly. “Actually, I wondered if Angela might have had a crush on Stephen. Whenever I saw her, she talked about him and wanted to know what he was doing. It was…kind of weird. I mean, she said she was with Joseph, but then she talked about some ‘other guy’ and I always wondered if she was referring to Stephen. It never made sense.”

  “Do you think she saw Stephen as a way out of her relationship with Joseph?” Chance asked.

  “Could be. I don’t know, maybe she saw Stephen as a safe harbor. You know, so desperate for someone she’d settle for whatever he’d give.”

  Henry approached us again, this time he looked perplexed and had his cellphone in his hand. “I just called Stephen. No answer, brah.”

  I huffed and looked quickly at the other three. “Let’s hope he hasn’t skipped town. I have a bunch of questions for Mr. Brantley.”

  CHAPTER 28

  As five o’clock drew nearer, the atmosphere in Club Mystique changed from laid-back, deserted beach to a bar hopping with action. All of the stools were now occupied, as were many of the tables. Henry had cranked up the background music, which was making conversation difficult.

  Chance seemed perfectly at home with the transformation. From what I knew of his past, he’d spent many a night in clubs far more manic than Club Mystique. We alternated between listening to the music, sipping our umbrella drinks, and occasional comments about the case. It took me by surprise when he put his elbow on the bar and looked at me so seriously.

  “McKenna? Can I ask you a question about you and Benni?”

  I shrugged. “Sure.”

  “You two seem so happy together.”

  “As do you and Lexie.” Was that what this was really about? The kid wanted advice about his love life? “You know, I’m a terrible source for relationship advice.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “No, this is not about me and Lexie. It really is about you and Benni.”

  I picked up my glass, took a sip, and turned back to him. “Okay. My bad. I just assumed—never mind. What is it you want to know?”

  “Lexie told me something. I don’t quite know how to say this, but I guess when they were at the bridal shop, Benni…well, she had a little breakdown.”

  A chill of fear forced me to sit up straight and stare at Chance. “What? Is she okay?”

  Chance put a hand on my arm and held my gaze. “She’s fine. It wasn’t much, just one of those little moments when she got overwhelmed by everything.” He smiled at me. “You know how people get sometimes.”

  “What I don’t get is what you’re alluding to. Spit it out, kid. What was this little ‘breakdown’ about?”

  “Let me begin by saying I may not have the whole story.”

  “You may not have a head if you keep running me in circles.”

  “Benni wants you to be happy.”

  “And?”

  He took a deep breath, then continued. “And she wants you to help Grace. But she also is worried I’m going to drag you into some deep dark investigation. The bottom line is she doesn’t want to go through another Maui.”

  Just the mention of the island’s name still gave me chills. I shivered and held his gaze. “I have no desire to go through something like that again either. Bargaining for my life is not in my DNA.”

  “It’s not in anybody’s,” Chance said, his voice flat. “You did what you had to do.”

  “Is that what she thinks this is? This is nothing like Maui. Grace got scammed. That’s all.”

  “No, McKenna, this has been exactly like Maui. We thought it was one thing, then it turned into something else. The problem is, when things got really bad, you didn’t ask any of us for help.”

  I raised my hand and nodded. “I’ve got it. She and I already had this talk. I’ll explain what’s going on to her—in detail. Is there anything else?”

  “There is.” Chance frowned and gazed at me. “I keep wondering what Angela Keating’s death has to do with Grace. They’re two totally different issues. And yet, here we are.”

  I contemplated my drink for a moment, then looked around the bar and caught sight of Bootsy. She was serving at a nearby table. The girl was young, attractive, and vivacious—and I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of ‘mistake’ she’d made that had landed her on the wrong side of the law in LA. Given her level of paranoia, it must have been more than she let on.

  “What are you getting at, Chance?” I thought I knew, but wanted him to say the words. Actually, I wanted him to prove me wrong.

  “You once told me you loved the thrill of the hunt.”

  I swallowed hard and felt my heart sink.

  “I think you’ve been bitten by the bug again. Face it, McKenna. You’re addicted to it. If someone dangles that carrot out there, you can’t help yourself. I feel terrible for getting you involved in this.”

  “You feel terrible, or Lexie does?”

  He winced, averted his gaze, and stared off into space. When he looked back at me, he sighed. “Okay, maybe I feel terrible that Lexie’s ticked off because Benni’s upset because you’re doing something she thinks could be dangerous and might involve keeping secrets from her. Is that convoluted enough for you?”

  “How much therapy did you go through as a kid?”

  “Actually, I was pretty well-adjusted. As I got older, things changed. In fact, I was twelve when my dad started pressuring me about schools and career choices. It became a continual source of aggravation between my parents. Why?”

  “Because your analysis is too spot-on.”

  “I dealt with a lot of shrinks. None of them did me any good. It was when I got here that I started to feel more grounded. You helped me with that.”

  I sat back on my stool and laughed. That was rich. I’d helped him? Henry picked our little mutual-admiration moment to ask if we wanted refills.

  “Not for me.” I glanced at Chance. “I need to be getting home.”

  “Agreed,” Chance slipped an obscenely large bill across the counter. “Keep it.”

  Henry stared down at the money. “It’s only ten bucks for the drinks, brah.”

  “I know,” Chance said. “Before we go, would you answer one more question about Stephen?”

  “For this, I’ll answer ten questions.” He snatched up Chance’s money, grabbed our glasses, an
d pulled out his handy white bar towel. He dried and polished the surface where our glasses had left wet circles as he waited expectantly for Chance’s question.

  “What do you think is going on with Stephen?”

  Henry shook his head and stopped polishing. “I don’t know, brah. This ain’t like him at all. He’s always on time.” He tilted his head in Bootsy’s direction. “Her, not so much. She been working here since she moved from the mainland. That girl goes from one crisis to the next. But this thing with Stephen? It’s got her freaked out and she’s worried about something.”

  I watched Bootsy engage with another table of customers. She looked like someone who was enjoying herself—laughing, talking, twirling her hair.

  “She looks fine to me,” I said.

  Henry’s face turned somber, and his cheek twitched as he watched her. “No way, brah. That thing she doing with her hair—Bootsy don’t do that unless she’s nervous. She’s got something on her mind. Something big.” He smiled at Chance. “Anything else you want to know?”

  “We’re good,” Chance said absently.

  As Henry left us to deal with his other customers, I watched Chance’s face. Something was bothering him, too, and I didn’t think it was remorse over having gotten me involved in a little question-and-answer excursion.

  “You laid some big news on me, buddy, but now you seem to be bothered by your own issues. Are you worried about Lexie? I’m sure we can smooth this over with the girls. I’ll just go back to the wedding plan stuff and let you finish this out.”

  “I don’t think it’s that simple. You’re not a water boy, McKenna. You always want to be the quarterback and are never going to be happy on the sidelines.”

  “Are you saying I like to boss people around?”

  “I’m saying you don’t always have to be the man with the plan.”

  Deep down, I knew he was right. I’d enjoyed these last few hours. Far more than I had visiting Sarah the Chaplain. Or going to see a florist, or any of the other dozen tasks Benni was lining up. “I’ll get over it,” I said.

  “No, I don’t think you will.” Chance looked morose as he said the words.