The Scent of Waikiki

by Terry Ambrose

  “I what?” Chance yelped as he came running.

  “How much for my friend to buy the trash from the apartment?”

  Chance narrowly avoided bumping into me as he came to an abrupt stop. He looked momentarily caught off guard as he frowned. “I do?”

  “You do. Get your wallet out.”

  He did as I’d instructed and winced as he looked inside. “I’m low on cash.”

  The maid eyed me for a moment, then Chance. A sly smile spread across her lips and she said, “How much you got?”

  Still apparently in shock that his wallet had drained itself of cash, Chance pulled out a hundred dollar bill. “All I have is this.”

  The maid’s eyes widened and she snatched the money from Chance’s hand. “For a hundred bucks, you can have the whole cart.” She turned and picked up another bag. “How much you want?”

  “No, no.” I took the negotiated bag from her hands and shook my head. “We only want the one.”

  She shrugged and muttered, “Crazy haolies.” Then, she stepped past us and removed the doorstop. With the room clean and Chance’s wallet the same, she shrugged and rolled the cart around us. One of the wheels squeaked slow and loud as she inched her way down the hall.

  “They need to do some maintenance on that thing,” I said.

  “I paid a hundred bucks for that?” He pointed at the flimsy white plastic bag I gripped in my right hand.

  “It was kind of a lot. You should have smaller bills on you.”

  “This is my fault because I only had a hundred in my wallet?”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s not your fault. I tell you what, why don’t you go talk to the maid? You could ask her for change. She’s got your fifty.”

  “Shut up, McKenna.”

  “Okay, but it’s your money. Well, not anymore. Now it’s hers. So, what do you want to do next? Hit an ATM?”

  Chance groaned as he looked up and down the hall. The maid’s cart was three doors away now and she’d gone inside. “I want to check the rooms on either side. Maybe somebody saw something.”

  “Good idea. Why don’t you go that way? I’ll go this direction.” He started to move away, but I stopped him with a touch on his arm. “I’m sorry about the money, Chance. I didn’t know I was on a budget.”

  He rolled his eyes and brushed at the air to wave away my comment. “Don’t worry. I just hope we get something worthwhile out of it.”

  A minute later, I was knocking on the door next to the supposed spy’s room, still gripping that little white plastic bag. A middle-aged woman with platinum blonde hair opened the door.

  “Yes?” She peered at me with a questioning look. Her smile was friendly enough, and she seemed not the least bit curious as to why I was standing at her door carrying a bag of trash.

  “My name’s McKenna. I’m investigating an incident from Tuesday night for one of the apartments across the alley. Over at the Honolulu Sands.”

  “Oh?” The woman’s thin eyebrows went up a fraction with interest, then down as she frowned. “Are you a policeman?” She fingered the collar of her white blouse as though she were suddenly growing nervous.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you. I’m the landlord over there,” I lied. “I’m in a bit of a pickle. You’ve probably heard about the girl who fell from her lānai?”

  After so many years of telling tales to find people who’d skipped, the shift to liar mode was easy. I also didn’t have a fancy fake badge like Chance. For me, this was straight seat-of-the-pants—and it felt good.

  “Yes, I heard. Actually, I saw the pandemonium. Terrible thing. All the police…and the gawkers…oh, God, they’re awful.” She paused and gazed at me. “What is it you’re trying to find out?”

  “Well, Miss…”

  “Murray. Connie Murray. I’m a commercial sales rep and I’m over here for a month catching up with clients.”

  “Ah, great job. So you rent here for the entire month?”

  “No, this unit is privately owned. I convinced my company to buy it years ago. I’m here a few times a year and it saves a huge amount of money.” She removed her hand from the edge of the door and took a small step back. “Would you like to come in? I have a few minutes before I need to leave.”

  “That would be very helpful, thank you.”

  The inside of the unit had been decorated in a popular island style. Flowered couch. Matching side chair. Glass coffee table. Lots of koa wood with a beautiful dark sheen.

  “You’ve done a magnificent job in decorating,” I said.

  “Mahalo,” she said as she led me to the living room. Then, she stopped and went around the breakfast bar into the kitchen. “I forgot my coffee.” She raised the mug to her lips and smiled.

  Positioned on the opposite side of the breakfast bar from where I stood was, in my opinion, a defensive move. If I was correct, I had to make myself as nonthreatening as possible to get her to talk.

  “You said you were the landlord for the Honolulu Sands? That’s your building?”

  I nodded. “It’s a way to make a living. Being a landlord has its ups and downs.” This was easy—no lies needed. “When the tenants behave, life is good.”

  Connie seemed to evaluate my response for a moment, and apparently gave me a passing grade. “So what are you trying to accomplish in this building?”

  “I’m trying to figure out if I have other tenants who are causing problems for the guests here.”

  “That’s very proactive.”

  “I try to keep things under control and have always felt dealing with a problem before it’s a problem is easier. Don’t you agree?”

  Connie pushed her hair to one side and nodded. “It’s that way with my clients, too. If there’s something wrong, I like to fix it right away.”

  I turned and gazed out her slider. She had a good view of Angela’s apartment and was directly across from Claire’s. “So has there been a lot of noise? Anything that would disturb you?”

  She shook her head slowly. “Tuesday night was pretty bad. That girl who died was arguing with people all night long. How do people live like that? All that anger? Do you know what happened?”

  “That’s not quite resolved yet. You’re saying she had multiple arguments? More than two? Do you know what they were about?”

  “No. When she starts up, I close my slider and try not to listen. I don’t need that in my life. I don’t need somebody else’s baggage messing up my mental wellbeing.”

  “Good attitude,” I said. And unfortunate for me if she was telling the truth.

  “It’s like when this guy next door was making noise that night.”

  “Really? Over there?” I pointed at the wall adjoining the unit Chance and I had just been in.

  Connie fingered the collar of her blouse and nodded. Her smile relaxed as she brushed back her hair again and looked directly at me. It appeared we were about to share some juicy secret.

  “I think he was moving out in a hurry after all the ruckus over there.” She pointed in the direction of Angela’s apartment. “She might not have been the best tenant, but she certainly didn’t deserve to die so young. How old was she, twenties?”

  “Good guess.” I matched Connie’s posture by leaning against the counter. It appeared Connie knew more than she wanted to admit. The fact that she’d accurately guessed Angela’s age indicated to me that she’d been paying close attention. She had to know more, I was just sure of it. “I heard about two incidents over there—both with men. Yah?”

  She frowned and placed her hands on the counter. I did the same.

  “No,” she said. “One was with a man, the other was with a woman. There could have been a third, I suppose. I had my slider closed so much thanks to all the noise.”

  “Could you describe the woman?”

  Connie pulled on a strand of platinum-blonde hair and twirled it. “She was a blonde. Hair not quite this color. She wore it down, cut to the shoulder. It definitely looked like a professional cut, not
what you’d get at some walk-in place.”

  It wasn’t the note of disdain in her voice that stopped me. It wasn’t the fact that I was sure Connie most likely paid a bundle for her haircuts. This was news we hadn’t heard before. Maybe a solid lead to a new suspect.

  I pointed at her hair. “By the way, that’s a very nice cut for you.”

  She blushed, then twirled that strand of hair again as she glanced down. When she looked up, she smiled. “Thank you. It’s nice someone notices.”

  “Well, whoever isn’t noticing should.” I winked at her, then continued. “So, you were saying about the woman who visited Angela?”

  “She had that look. You know, the sultry siren who never knows when or how to turn it off.”

  It couldn’t be. Was she describing Skye? I took a steadying breath. “Was she dressed nicely?”

  “Her dress was cut mid-thigh.” She dropped her hand to her side and indicated the height with her fingers. “Low-cut blouse. Lots of cleavage.” Her voice hardened. “In her defense, I’d have to say the dress was quite cute and it looked like an original. She had the figure for it, but it was all very over-the-top.” She craned her neck forward and peered at me. “Does that help?”

  “Tremendously.” It had to be Skye. “I’ve heard these arguments were over a box. Did you see anything?”

  Connie moved to her right and poured herself a glass of water from a pitcher on the counter. “Would you like some?”

  “No, I’m fine. But thank you.”

  For a moment I thought I might have lost her, but Connie had shifted into full-gossip mode and apparently only needed to moisten the pipes.

  CHAPTER 38

  Connie ran her fingers over the granite countertop and took another sip from her glass. She had the look of someone torn between telling all and wanting to stay out of other people’s business.

  With pursed lips and a forced smile, she said, “To answer your question—yes, there was a box. That was the first argument. With the abusive boyfriend.”

  I made a mental note to come back to that comment, but for now wanted to let her talk, so I raised my eyebrows and waited.

  “This was at about eight. He showed up and all of a sudden they burst into this knock-down-drag-out about stealing perfume. There was all this yelling about going to jail and having a record—it sounded like he had personal experience from the way he was going on about it. I guess he was there until about eight-thirty. ”

  “I’m pretty sure he has a record,” I said, hoping to fuel Connie’s little rant.

  “I thought so. He just had that hard look about him. It’s pretty classic. Nice girl meets bad boy.”

  “So what was he telling her to do?”

  “He wanted her to pack up the stuff she’d stolen so he could return it.” She paused for a moment and pointed at the reaction on my face. “I know. Trust an ex-con to do the right thing? I don’t think so. But Joseph was pretty intimidating. He was even going on about getting married and settling down.”

  “What?”

  “For sure. He proposed. Kind of.”

  “In the middle of an argument?”

  “It was the strangest proposal I’ve ever heard. It was more like a statement of fact. Like there was no doubt in his mind they’d get married.” She stopped and laughed. “Angela was dumbstruck. She stopped him and asked if he was serious, and Joseph said he thought she knew. Next thing I know, they’re making out on the lānai and packing up the box. Joseph left right after that.”

  It hadn’t escaped my attention that the longer Connie talked, the more she’d revealed—especially when she slipped and started calling Joseph and Angela by name. “So Angela did it? She gave him everything?”

  “Weird, right? All I can figure is she had it bad for him. I was involved with a guy like that once and learned the hard way.” Connie’s shoulders fell and she gazed toward the lānai slider. “I guess I got lucky. Poor Angela learned an even harder lesson. The only thing I lost was my dignity and some money.”

  I held her gaze. She had blue eyes set wide apart and a heart-shaped face. “I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged. “We all learn, hopefully. Right?”

  “Exactly. So what was in this mysterious box? Did you see?”

  “Bottles. I guess it was the perfume they’d been arguing about.” Connie seemed to realize she’d revealed herself as a bit of a busybody and sucked in a quick breath. “I don’t really know.”

  Rats. Shutdown. “That’s okay.” I smiled. “You said there was another argument with the woman. Did you see what happened for that one, too?”

  “After that first argument, I was pretty ticked off. All that angst. It was just too much so I closed up and came inside. Between the heat and the noise, I was not in a good place, so I went for a walk. When I came back, I had a glass of wine, opened up the lānai, and went to sit outside.” She stopped and sighed. “That’s when the woman showed up.”

  “So she was there after Joseph left? And you never saw a second man?”

  “It was a long walk. I went down to Kalākaua.” She winked and held up her hand. “Retail therapy.”

  A black pearl ring on her fourth finger sparkled in the light. She smiled at it and held her hand out with all fingers extended.

  “Very nice,” I said. “It looks expensive.”

  “I do have a weakness for Maui Divers Jewelry.”

  I nodded knowingly. Maui Divers was the kind of place you could spend some serious cash—assuming you had serious cash to spend. In fact, it was where I’d wanted to buy Benni’s engagement ring. However, they’d easily exceeded my meager budget.

  “I shopped there for an engagement ring,” I said.

  Connie’s face lit up. “Oh! Did she like it?”

  “I couldn’t find anything I thought was going to work,” I said.

  “I’m sure you found something she loved.”

  Thank goodness, Connie was letting me off the hook without further discussion. “Yes, I did. So when did the woman leave?”

  “I don’t really know. The next day was a big day ahead of me, so I popped a sleeping pill and went to bed. I was pretty irritated because it was a hot night and I really wanted to cool the place down.”

  “You don’t have air conditioning?”

  “I do, but I hate those things. All that noise and blowing dry air. Ugh.” She scrunched up her face and shivered slightly.

  “I feel the same at times. My place is close to the water so the trades work their magic most of the time. What about over here?” I pointed again to the apartment next door. “You said he made a lot of noise around…?”

  “One forty-eight. AM. Jarred me out of a sound sleep.”

  “That stinks,” I said. But it explained the closed up room. And it put me one-up on Chance.

  Connie shook her head and sighed. “The only good thing about that one was it woke me and I was able to open up again. Otherwise, that was pretty irritating, too. There was a lot of banging, like someone was in a hurry to get out. Then the door slammed a couple of times like he’d taken a load to the car and had to come back for another. Come to think of it, it must have been three loads.”

  “What happened then?”

  “It was quiet until someone found the body the next morning.”

  “Connie, when you started telling me about Joseph earlier, you called him abusive. Did you witness any kind of domestic violence between him and Angela?”

  “I don’t think he ever hit her, but he was not an accommodating kind of man. If she didn’t do things his way, he’d really come down hard on her.”

  “In what way?”

  “Nobody knows how to conduct a civil disagreement anymore. I call it verbal abuse, but maybe it’s just the way things get done these days. Angela and Joseph could both be very aggressive.”

  “So you never witnessed any physical actions? They just argued.”

  “Yes. They did shove each other one time. In fact, it was right out there on the lānai…middl
e of last week. He pushed her and she pushed him right back and then she told him to get out. She said she never wanted to see him again, but he was back a day later and they were all lovey-dovey like nothing had happened. You sure have a lot of questions for a landlord.”

  My phone pinged. It was a double chime, the ring I used for Benni. I let it go. “I used to find people for a living, so asking questions is an occupational hazard. Maybe more of a life hazard.”

  We both laughed politely, but it was obvious I’d exhausted my source. Whether Connie had grown tired of answering my questions or suspicious at how many I had, my time was up. I thanked her for the information and started toward the door.

  “What’s in the bag?” Connie asked as I turned to say goodbye.

  “Oh, I was on my way to the trash when I saw you on your lānai. Guess I’ll have to hit the big can on the way back.”

  “But I haven’t been on my lānai this morning.”

  “Huh,” I said. “Imagine that. Thank you for your time.”

  I left Connie Murray’s apartment with just as many questions as when I walked in. The difference was, now I wondered what had happened to the stolen perfume. Had Joseph returned it? Had Angela been killed over the theft? Maybe I was simply insane for pursuing this.

  Chance was in the hallway just outside of the apartment we’d been through, looking dejected.

  “No luck?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Only one person was in and she threatened to call security if I didn’t leave her alone.” With a nod, he indicated Connie’s door. “You must have gotten some information.”

  I did a quick recap of what I’d learned and when I finished, we both came to the same conclusion—the missing box was at the center of Angela’s death. What we didn’t know was if finding it would lead us to her killer.

  “Do you suppose the front desk would give us any information about our alleged spy?” I asked.

  “Probably not, but we can try. Come on. Let’s see what they say.”

  Chance led the way to the elevator. We went to the lobby, spoke to a very unhelpful desk clerk, and were threatened with a call to the police if we insisted on causing a disturbance. On our way out the door, Chance’s phone rang and he glared at it.