“Him,” she said again. “A black man watches her. Quite often, actually. I’m quite sure he’s a Peeping Tom.”
Steward huffed behind us and grumbled, “He’s not a Peeping Tom, Emily. He’s a spy. And he was watching Claire, not Angela.”
I spun around. Steward stood in the doorway of the bedroom, his complexion nearly matching the white of his beard and mustache. I narrowed my gaze and watched him closely.
“What kind of spy and why do you say that?” Was this another of Steward’s delusions or a new wrinkle? I continued to scrutinize him, looking for signs such as too much or too little eye contact, fidgeting, or pauses that could indicate he was making up a story instead of remembering it. “Well?”
“After you busted me and sent me back to Robert, I had to sit there on my stupid chair doing nothing. It was either that or get locked up in some mental ward. My boy took my keys away, McKenna.” He paused, glared at me, then quickly added, “You ought to look guilty.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to get you busted. But you got here. How’d you pull that off?”
“I drove, of course. Had to steal my own keys from Robert’s desk. I pretended I needed a nap, so he left me alone in his office for a while. Boy never did have a lick of sense about security. Anyway, after I had my keys, I went back to my post. The longer I sat, the angrier I got.”
Emily had disengaged from the conversation and was busy looking out the lānai with her hands clasped in front of her and her lips pursed. She appeared to be off on some enjoyable mental sojourn.
“You listening, McKenna?”
“Yes, Steward. I am.” Returning my gaze to him, I asked, “So what did you do with all this anger? Hop in your car and come over here for tea?”
“Don’t you remember what Claire said? Joseph visited Angela during the day sometimes. But I told you Joseph didn’t have this route. So one of the things I did while I was in Robert’s office was look at Joseph’s delivery logs. There’s a lot of blank spots.”
“What does that prove other than he might have been taking time out of his route to come here and visit his girlfriend? Big deal.”
Steward started blathering on about what a mistake a relationship between Joseph and anyone would have been and how he was ‘not the marrying kind.’ But while he was going on, Emily was busy tapping her lips with a finger and muttering to herself. “I wonder what he did with the box?”
“Who, Emily?” I asked. “And what box are you talking about?”
“The contraband, McKenna,” Steward snapped. He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded at me. “That’s what box. Angela and Joseph were dealing in contraband.”
“Just hold on, Steward. Let’s take this one step at a time. Who are you talking about, Emily?”
“Well, Joseph, of course.”
She blinked several times, but didn’t continue. Obviously, the pregnant pause tactic was not going to work on her. “Can you describe the box?” I asked.
Steward started to say something, but I shushed him with a slanting of my eyes and a raised hand.
“It was a regular brown cardboard box. About so-by-so.” Emily held up her hands to indicate something large, perhaps twelve-by-eighteen inches.
“Did this box have any writing on it? Any logos? Decorations?”
“No,” she said, stretching out the word and pursing her lips. Then, her gray eyebrows knitted themselves into a fine line. “There was one thing about it, though.”
“What was the one thing, Emily?”
She did the finger on the lip routine again, then muttered, “It wasn’t full when Joseph took it out.”
“How in the world do you know that?”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you that part. Sorry.” She tittered, then continued. “Joseph made Angela pack the box while they were out on the lānai. When she told him there was one bottle missing is when he became the most angry. I suppose that could be when he threatened to move out…”
I groaned at a new possibility. Our box of ‘contraband’ could have simply contained Joseph’s personal belongings. “So you’re telling me there might have been bottles in this box—or it could have been his underwear.”
“Well...” Emily frowned and chewed on her lower lip. “When you put it that way…”
But Steward was having none of this wishy-washy crap. “I’m telling you it was contraband, McKenna.”
“So what kind of contraband is this?” I shot back. “Bottles of perfume?”
“Come on, McKenna, keep up. Angela stole the perfume from her work, gave it to Joseph, and he distributed it. She kept one bottle out for herself and he got mad. I wouldn’t be surprised if he killed her. Never liked the guy, myself.”
Good grief. These two had to be making this up as they went along. Each time I thought I had one of them under control, the other hit me with something new. Time for reinforcements. “I need Chance to hear this.”
Steward narrowed his gaze at me. “You brought him? That rat?”
“He brought me. I don’t drive. Remember?”
“Most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Man not driving.” Steward glared at me. While only flecks of color were returning to his complexion, his brown eyes showed no sign of his tea overdose.
“It’s the way it is.” I glared right back at him, then added, “And for the record, I’m getting tired of your facts-on-the-fly.”
“Now, now,” Emily sputtered. “I cannot tolerate this type of behavior. You two act like my boys when they were six and arguing over a…what was that, anyway?”
We both stared at her as she tapped her finger on her lip and gazed out the lānai. To my surprise, Steward immediately apologized to her, then me.
“Sure,” I said, echoing his apology. “I’m sorry, too. That doesn’t change anything. I still need Chance.” Without waiting for Steward’s approval, I pulled out my phone and dialed.
Chance answered on the first ring and was through the front door within thirty seconds. As he entered, Emily bustled forward, then turned to face us.
“Oh, what a nice looking young man.” She turned back to Chance. “Would you like some tea?”
CHAPTER 36
Emily had her back to us, which left me free to shake my head vigorously. To my side, Steward was doing the same. Finally, we had a real point of agreement. Do not drink the tea.
Chance transitioned his gaze from me to Emily and focused solely on her as he clasped her hands in his. Only once did he let his gaze flicker in our direction, and even then it was so fast Emily probably hadn’t noticed.
“Thank you for the lovely offer, but I’m doing quite well and don’t have time to visit. I’m Chance Logan.”
“Emily Cole,” she gushed, then looked over her shoulder at me and winked. “Oh my, he is so handsome.” She turned back to Chance and continued. “If you change your mind about the tea, let me know. It’s a lovely blend of Japanese milk tea and coffee.”
“Unfortunately, Emily’s out of milk today,” I said.
Chance nodded knowingly and smiled at her. “I’m sure it’s still very good.”
“Well, it is on the strong side today,” she admitted. “Won’t you come in?”
I gave Chance the abbreviated version of what I’d learned, making sure to include both the alleged spy and the box of contraband. When I finished, he thought for a moment, then went to the lānai and looked across the alley.
“We’re going to need to visit that apartment, McKenna. It could be the only way to figure out who he was really watching.”
“Claire!” Steward boomed. “He was watching Claire.”
“Why are you so convinced of that, Steward?” I asked.
He sputtered a couple of times, then shot back a quick, “Can’t say.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?” I asked.
“Tsk tsk.” Emily shook her head and smiled at Chance. “These two bicker more than my boys ever did. And I thought they fought like cats and dogs. I want you two to put your differences aside and
play nice.”
“Well said, Emily.” Chance winked at her, then put one hand on my shoulder and his other on Steward’s. “Now boys, let’s work this out. Okay?”
Steward grumbled something under his breath, but did nod his agreement. I, on the other hand, still had the same question. “Maybe I was a bit terse,” I said. “Steward, would you explain to me why you said, ‘can’t say?’” I followed it up with a sickly sweet smile, hoping that would make Emily feel like she’d mothered us into submission.
“Well, McKenna.” Steward smiled right back at me. “I said can’t say because I’m forbidden to. Can’t is therefore the most accurate wording, McKenna.”
“Thank you, Steward, it was very kind of you to fully answer my question.” I launched another salvo in the smile war, then gestured at his empty cup. “Perhaps you would like another cup of tea?”
Steward’s smile fell away and he glared at me. Then, he snickered and picked up my cup. He held it out and grinned. “After you…McKenna.”
“No…thank you.” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and resigned myself to ending this pointless and unproductive little smile war. The best solution was to go all professional on him. “Who’s forbid you to say what?”
“Can’t tell you that, either.”
Great. Stonewalled.
“Oh, nonsense,” Emily chirped. “It’s Claire. These two are trying to help solve a murder, Steward. They’re not spying on Claire.” She huffed, then continued, “I’m sure there’s no problem in telling you this. Claire has some clients that require her to sign nondisclosure agreements. She’s forbidden to talk about their travels, but she has told me a few things in general.”
“Claire? From two doors down?” Chance asked.
The kid looked lost, which, I suppose, he was. “She’s Emily’s daughter.” I also explained how Steward and Claire had once been involved, or not involved, depending on who you talked to.
When I was done, Chance raised one hand and massaged his temples. “I can see why you called me.” He turned to Steward. “So you think the guy across the way has been trying to learn about Claire’s clients. Is that why you’re so…concerned?”
Steward made some kind of grunting noise. I wasn’t sure if it was agreement or a carryover from the tea. He finally said, “Yes.”
“And this spy across the way has nothing to do with Joseph, Angela, or the perfume. Is that correct?”
Another grumble. “Yes.”
“We certainly do not want to create problems for Claire,” Chance said.
“I agree.” I turned my full attention on Steward. “But I think we also need to figure out what was in that box—and where it went. If Joseph was delivering it, wouldn’t you have a record?”
“Of course.”
“Unless he really was delivering contraband,” Chance said.
I gawked at him. What? Don’t tell me he was buying into that line of BS. “Back up the bus, Chance. You believe this whole contraband theory?”
“I’m exploring all possibilities, that’s all. If Steward is correct, Joseph may not have wanted that box to go through the normal channels. If that were the case, since he’s a delivery guy, why would he need to pay for shipping? Why wouldn’t he just toss it on his truck and then deliver it?”
Steward looked pleased as punch with Chance’s analysis and, to be truthful, his reasoning made sense. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Maybe you’re not as sneaky as you used to be.” Chance smiled, then added, “That was a compliment. I think.”
I wasn’t sure how to take it either, but went with the island way and flipped him a shaka sign. Turning to Steward, I said, “Can you go back and check the delivery logs? The idea is to find out if there was a box picked up from this address.”
“We need three pieces of information,” Chance said. “First, we need to know if that box was truly some sort of off-system delivery.” He looked at Steward. “It seems like a safe bet that he’d send it through All Day Delivery and not some outside company.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Steward said.
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Would you check that for us? See if there’s any kind of record of the package? Better yet, do it for Claire. If there really is someone watching her, we’ll find a way to deal with it.”
He nodded. “I’ll do it.”
“Excellent!” Chance clapped Steward on the back. “Good man. Second, we need to pay a visit to this alleged spy.” Chance paused, then looked at Emily. “Is he still there?”
“No, dear,” Emily said. “He’s been gone for a day or so. Oh, this is so exciting! I haven’t felt so energized in years.”
“Yes, Emily, it is exciting.” I looked over at Chance. “Coincidence?”
He sighed. “I think the only way we’ll know is to get inside that apartment. But if we know which unit it is, we can find a way in. Right, McKenna?”
“Right.” As long as he didn’t mind dipping into his trust fund again. If Chance ever did become a licensed private investigator, I suspected he’d run the most unprofitable business on the planet. On the other hand, he was filthy rich and he didn’t mind exercising his ATM rights. “What’s number three, buddy?”
“We need to know what was in that package.”
“And you intend to find that out by…?”
I let my question hang in the air as I gazed at him with raised eyebrows. Instead of an answer, he screwed up his face and shook his head.
“No clue.” The poor guy looked deflated.
“You were on a roll, kid. We’ll figure it out.”
“If there is a record for the package, there might be some indication of what’s in it,” Steward said.
I glanced at him, shocked that he’d actually volunteered to help without being prodded verbally or physically. There was no way I wanted to complain about his sudden spirit of volunteerism. While Steward returned to All Day Delivery, Chance and I went next door to the Driftwood Breeze. This might have once been one of Waikīkī’s highest buildings, but now massive skyscrapers dwarfed it.
As we stood outside the front entrance, I stopped and pulled out my phone. “Hang on, buddy. I need to send Benni a text and let her know what’s going on. Full disclosure and all that.”
“Good idea, McKenna.” He said as he began doing the same thing.
A couple of minutes later, we’d both sent our messages and were entering the lobby, which had a dated appearance and wasn’t nearly as flashy as its recently constructed or renovated competitors. There was the requisite island ambience, including indoor palms and planters, but the real indicator was the elevator. The carpet was old and dingy. No matter how crooked the crow flew, this building was only a couple of blocks from the beach, which gave it a huge advantage from a location perspective. It also gave it a challenge in the form of beach-weary tourists returning to their hotel room with dirty feet, sandy shorts, and who knows what else.
By the time the elevator reached it’s final destination at the fourth floor, we’d both received quick replies from the girls. Thank goodness I could proceed without fear of another Benni meltdown.
“It’s the fifth unit from that end of the building,” I said.
But Chance wasn’t paying attention. He was staring straight ahead.
“What’s up?” I asked, but the moment I followed his gaze I had my answer. Maid service was here. “Oh crap,” I muttered.
“Ditto.” We rushed down the hall and stopped in front of the doorway. The maid had it propped open with a doorstop. “What the heck?” I poked my head inside.
A petite Asian woman was in the process of mopping the tile floor. She jumped back a step and put her hand over her heart when she glanced up. “Oh my God. You scare me.”
“Sorry,” Chance said. “We were hoping to catch the person who had this room.”
“They gone.”
Chance and I groaned simultaneously.
“We’re too late,” I said.
“When did t
hey check out?” Chance asked.
The woman, who had her hair tied up in a loose topknot, shrugged. “My boss tell me the room empty. Go clean. It stink in here like it been locked up for days.”
She was somewhere in her thirties, had dark hair, and barely topped five-feet. Based on her accent, I assumed she’d lived here her entire life. She might never know anything other than cleaning rooms, much as Grace might never know anything other than running customer purchases through a scanner.
“And you never saw the guest who stayed here?” I asked.
The woman shook her head. “I need get back to work, yah?”
My walking ATM reached for his wallet and extracted a fifty-dollar bill. “Do you mind if we take a moment to look around?”
Her eyes practically bugged out as she gaped at the money Chance held out to her. “Should be okay. You can look around, just don’t mess nothing up.”
“We’ll be careful,” Chance said as he handed her the money.
We walked around the apartment, sorely disappointed by the fact that everything was spotless.
“You do a good job in cleaning,” I said, feeling a wave of disappointment as I scanned the apartment. “This is a waste of time, Chance.”
He nodded and went to the balcony. I followed him and we stood together at the lānai railing looking across the alley.
“This place has a better view of Angela’s apartment than Claire’s,” he said.
“I’m pretty sure Steward was wrong.” I turned around, and gazed back into the apartment. This was turning into a lost cause. The only witnesses or sources were nut jobs and, with the exception of a business card in Angela’s apartment, we’d found no clues whatsoever. I sighed and watched the maid as she did a last inspection of the room.
Then, she picked up a small plastic bag that had been on the kitchen floor and carried it out the front door. I jabbed Chance in the ribs and rushed after the maid.
As I ran, I called out, “Miss! Wait, my friend wants to buy your trash bag!”
CHAPTER 37
The maid was at her cart with the bag in her hand when I caught up to her in the hallway. She stared at me. “Excuse me?”
The Scent of Waikiki Page 21