Burned

by Carol Higgins Clark

  “She probably didn’t even know what she had. And she probably didn’t steal it. Apparently she claimed that she had never been to Hawaii before three months ago, and she was a teenager when it was stolen.”

  “That girl over there”-Regan pointed to Jasmine who was posing at the bar-“knew Dorinda Dawes in New York.”

  “I’ve noticed her in here before,” Mike said. “Something tells me she’s a real player.”

  10

  B ack at the Waikiki Waters, Will Brown kept himself busy with paperwork all night. He called Kit and Regan’s room a number of times to see if they were back yet. No luck. He wandered out to the reception area for about the twelfth time when he saw them get out of a Land Cruiser.

  “Hello,” he said as he ran to greet them.

  “Hi, Will,” Kit called out. “You’re burning the midnight oil.”

  “No rest for the weary,” he joked. “As you know, it’s been quite a day around here. I’d love to buy you two a drink.”

  “Actually,” Regan began, “I’m a little tired.”

  Will lowered his voice. “I need to speak to you about a professional matter.”

  Noticing how anxious Will looked, Regan acquiesced. “Maybe a quick one,” she said and looked at Kit who nodded in agreement.

  “Thatta girls!” Will boomed too forcefully.

  This guy is definitely on edge, Regan decided.

  Will led them to an airy and spacious outdoor bar that was situated between two of the largest towers. Lilting Hawaiian music was being piped in through speakers hidden in the palm trees and hibiscus plants surrounding the tables and chairs. Everyone must be resting up for another day of sitting on the beach, Regan thought as she glanced around the nearly empty lounge.

  “Here we go.” Will indicated a table that was off to the side, under a large palm tree lit with small white lights. A waiter, upon seeing the big boss, hurried over.

  Regan and Kit ordered glasses of wine while Will decided on a vodka and tonic.

  “Coming right up,” the waiter announced cheerily and hurried off.

  “Thank you, girls, for joining me.” Will looked around cautiously to make sure no one was within earshot.

  Kit looked at Regan and raised her eyebrows as if to say, “What gives?”

  Regan shrugged.

  After making sure the place was secure from eavesdroppers, Will cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair, which only made his anxiety worse. It somehow felt thinner than it did an hour ago. Maybe I am tearing my hair out, he thought. “Regan, Kit…” he began. “The Waikiki Waters Playground and Resort is a very reputable hotel. We just did a big and expensive renovation. We have many repeat customers every year. We pride ourselves on our service and our accommodations-”

  “What’s wrong?” Regan asked quickly. May as well make him get to the point, she thought.

  “Right.” Will nodded as beads of perspiration rolled down his forehead. He cleared his throat. “I feel there are people out there who are intent on ruining the good name of this hotel. There have been lots of little things going wrong. Maybe it’s some of the employees. And the drowning today of Dorinda Dawes…I just don’t think it was an accident.”

  Regan leaned forward. “What makes you say that?”

  “I saw her before she left, and she said she was going straight home.”

  “Did you tell the police that?”

  “Yes. But they knew she often walked along the beach to get home. They said she could have decided to stick her toes in the water. It was pretty warm last night.”

  “But you don’t believe it?”

  “No.”

  “Regan,” he continued, “I know you have a great reputation as an investigator.”

  “You do?”

  “I looked you up on the Internet.”

  “Oh.”

  “I was wondering if I could hire you to spend the next couple of days talking to people around here. See if you pick up on anything unusual. Lately we’ve had more than our share of petty thefts. We’ve had tubes of suntan lotion dropped into the public toilets, which caused several floods. Several people got sick at the salad bar, which is unusual because we’re very careful about our restaurants. We pride ourselves on the quality of our food. Now Dorinda’s drowning. It’ll be all over the local papers tomorrow. I’ve already had calls from stringers for national papers-all because of that royal lei around her neck and the coincidence that it matches the lei that will be auctioned off at our ball Saturday night. That ball has to be a success!” Will picked up his glass and took a large sip of his drink.

  Regan waited. She knew he had a lot more to say.

  “I hired Dorinda to work here. I know she got on people’s nerves, and now I feel somehow responsible for her death. If she hadn’t been working here, she would have been someplace else last night. And if there is a murderer at the Waikiki Waters, who’s to say he or she won’t strike again? There’s something going on around here, and I would be grateful if you could help me out. Maybe her killer is in one of those rooms right now.” Will gestured to the towers in the distance.

  Wow, Regan thought. He might be overreacting, but who knows? “I understand your concern,” she assured him quietly as the waiter approached and served them their drinks.

  “Can I get you anything else, Mr. Brown?”

  “Thank you, but no.”

  The waiter tapped his tray with his fingers and retreated to the bar.

  Regan took a sip of her wine. “If there is someone who is responsible for Dorinda Dawes’s death, that person might have had nothing to do with her personally. Her death may have been a random act of violence. It may be related to the stolen lei. I’d love to help you out, Will, but I’m only going to be here until Monday.”

  “That’s okay. I’d just like to get your read on things. And you’ll be here for the ball. Who knows what someone might pull that night? We have a security staff, but I’d like to have someone around who isn’t obviously checking things out for the hotel. I don’t know what else to do. You can probably get people to talk. Just play the nosey tourist-or whatever it is you do. Maybe Dorinda did accidentally drown. I don’t know. But did you ever get the feeling that there’s something that’s not quite right but you can’t quite put your finger on it?”

  “Sure,” Regan replied.

  “Sometimes when you’re the boss, people don’t want to tell you things. You, I bet, will get people to talk. I just don’t know who to trust anymore.” Will took another swig of his drink. “I’ll be frank with you, Regan. I’m also afraid I’ll lose my job. This all happened on my watch, and the big boys are not happy at all. Dorinda Dawes made herself known around town, not always in the best way, and they feel her life and death reflect badly on the hotel. And on me in particular because I hired her.”

  Kit looked at Regan with a raised eyebrow.

  He knows more than he’s telling me, Regan thought. “Do you live at the hotel?” she asked him.

  “No. My wife, Kim, and I have a little house up the coast. It’s about forty-five minutes away.”

  “Your wife?” Regan tried to keep the surprise out of her voice. He wasn’t wearing a wedding band, nor did he have the aura of a married person. Whatever that aura was.

  “Yes. We’ve been married for two years. We visited her mother in northern California for Christmas. She stayed on for a few extra weeks with our son. They’ll be back tomorrow night.”

  This is getting more interesting, Regan thought. Did he have a personal interest in Dorinda Dawes? Maybe he’s afraid his name will come up in an investigation, and he wants me to help prove he’s not involved.

  Kit had listened throughout. Regan had noticed that Kit also seemed surprised when Will said he was married. But Will did seem genuinely anguished. He has a wife and child to support, and he has a good job. If he loses it, he could be out of luck. Regan knew it wasn’t easy to find another job like his in Hawaii. There were too many people who wanted to fill those �
��executive” spots and live in paradise.

  Regan was interested in pursuing the case, but she had come out here to be with Kit. As if Kit could read her mind, she said, “Regan, I know you want to do this. I don’t mind. As long as we can spend some time together.”

  “Ain’t love grand?” Regan asked.

  Kit laughed. “Yes, it does help that Steve suggested he come over and join us at the beach tomorrow.”

  “Lucky for both of us.” Regan turned to Will. “All right. I’ll help you out. But right now I need to get some sleep. I’m still on Los Angeles time. Should I meet you in your office tomorrow morning?”

  Will looked as if some of the weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you, Regan. I’ll pay you whatever your rate is. And your next trip here is on me.”

  “Fine,” Regan agreed quickly. “Nine o’clock okay?”

  “Perfect. Just tell them at the front desk that you have an appointment with me. They won’t question it.”

  “Good enough. I’ll be there at nine.”

  Will pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his brow as Don Ho’s famous song “Tiny Bubbles” floated through the air.

  11

  “Y ou take me to the safest places,” Regan teased Kit as they headed back to their room.

  “Leave it to me,” Kit muttered. “But it is a little scary to think that there could be someone at the hotel who murdered Dorinda Dawes.”

  “Let’s take a quick walk on the beach,” Regan suggested.

  “I thought you were tired.”

  “I am. But now my mind is focusing on this case. I want to see what it’s like out here at night.”

  They walked past the Grand Pool where a hula show was performed every few nights and stepped out onto the sand. The Pacific Ocean lay before them. The waves lapped gently at the shore. Palm trees swayed softly in the breeze. The moonlight reflected on the water, and the lights from the Waikiki Waters and hotels down the strip made for a beach that was not too dark at all.

  Kit followed Regan out to the water’s edge. Regan kicked off her sandals and walked into the water until it covered her ankles. She then turned left and started walking, staying close to the shore. Kit did the same. The beach curved around, and they hit a dark cove that couldn’t be seen from the hotel. Just beyond it was the jetty that Regan figured must have been where Dorinda would stop and sit on her way home.

  A couple was sitting there on the rocks in the cove, kissing. They pulled away from each other when they felt the presence of Regan and Kit.

  Kit watched in amazement as Regan said, “Excuse me. Could I have a word with you?’

  “I just proposed to my girlfriend on a moonlit beach, and you gotta interrupt?” the guy asked Regan incredulously.

  “I guess you weren’t here last night then?” Regan prodded.

  “It was too cloudy last night. I always wanted it to be a moonlit night, so I waited. Tonight there’s moonlight, so I proposed.”

  “I assume she said yes,” Regan quipped.

  “I did,” the girl cried happily. She held out her hand to Regan and displayed a diamond ring.

  Regan stepped toward them and leaned down. “It’s beautiful,” Regan said sincerely. “I just got engaged, too.”

  “Let me see your ring,” the girl enthused.

  Regan held out her left hand.

  “Wow! Yours is gorgeous, too!”

  “Thanks.”

  “Where did your boyfriend propose?” the guy asked. He seemed to be thawing.

  “In a hot air balloon.”

  “That must have been real special,” the girl cried. “A hot air balloon!”

  The guy frowned. “I should have thought of that.”

  “No, sweetie. A moonlit beach is perfect.” She leaned in for a little kiss. He gave her two.

  “Were you by chance out here at all last night?” Regan asked.

  “No. I walked out to see if the setting was right to get engaged, but it was too cloudy. So we went dancing.”

  “What time was that?”

  “Just after ten.”

  “Did you notice if there were many people on the beach?”

  “I didn’t see too many people. People wander out from the pool area sometimes, but the pool closes at ten. The outdoor bar is open late. We had drinks there the other night and saw a few people stroll out to the beach and take a quick look at the ocean before they went to bed. But most of them are on the beach all day, so they’ve seen enough. You know what I mean?”

  “You didn’t see anyone swimming?”

  He shook his head. “No. You’d be crazy to swim at night. There are riptides and strong currents around here. You get sucked under, and nobody’s around to help. We stuck our feet in here and felt the swirling.”

  “We did, too,” Regan told him.

  “You trying to figure out how that lady drowned?”

  Before Regan could answer, he continued, “I find that a lot of people take a walk on the beach at night when they’re very upset.”

  “Jason!” the girl protested.

  “It’s true, Carla.” He turned to Regan. “I woke up at three in the morning last night, and she’s gone. I was a wreck. Where is she? I got dressed, and she walks in the door. She told me she couldn’t sleep and went for a walk on the beach. At three in the morning! I said it would have been nice to leave me a note. Now she tells me she was upset because she was sure I was going to propose last night and didn’t. It was our anniversary yesterday. Ya know, the day we met. Ten years ago.”

  Ten years, Regan thought. I’m glad Jack didn’t take that long.

  “She transferred to my school in the middle of the seventh grade.”

  “My father’s job required a lot of moves,” Carla explained. “But I didn’t walk far on the beach. It felt a little scary. I figured if he was never going to propose, then so be it. There are other fish in the sea.”

  “Thanks a lot, honey.”

  She hit his arm playfully. “You know what I mean.”

  “Did you see anyone out here at that hour?” Regan asked.

  “Not a soul! That’s why it was scary. I ended up running back. And to think that body washed up just a few hours later. Oh, my God!”

  Her fiancé pulled her close. “Don’t leave me like that again.”

  “I won’t.” They started to kiss again.

  “We’ll leave you two alone,” Regan said quickly. “But if you recall seeing anything even a little bit odd last night, could you let me know? Anything at all, even if it seems insignificant, might be important. The hotel just wants to ensure the safety of the guests. You can never be too careful.” She gave them her name, room number, and cell phone number.

  “Sure,” the girl said. “I can’t think of anything now. I’m kind of too excited. But if I think of something, I’ll give you a call. My name is Carla. We’re in the Coconut Tower.”

  “Thanks, Carla.”

  Regan and Kit walked back to their room. Kit flopped on her bed. “You’re amazing. Only you could interrupt a couple in a clinch who just got engaged and end up being their pal.”

  “I don’t know whether I’m their pal or not,” Regan replied, “but if they call me with anything that might help explain what happened to Dorinda Dawes, then they’ll be my pals. And something tells me that when the excitement of their engagement dies down just a little, she’ll want to talk. Believe me, I’ll be hearing from her.”

  12

  N ed and Artie were in their room. It was decent-sized but small for two adults, particularly two adults who didn’t want to spend much time together during the day, never mind those vulnerable hours at night. Artie liked to play tapes of his mystical healing as he drifted off to sleep, which drove Ned crazy. Ned always had the television turned to the sports channel, which drove Artie nuts.

  Roommates.com would never have paired them up, but the twins had snapped up the opportunity to save money, so Artie was stuck. He couldn’t complain too much since
the trip was free, and as Gert and Ev pointed out, everyone shared a room and you should only be in the room to sleep when you’re in a beautiful place like Hawaii.

  Ned loved his job at the Waikiki Waters. Because they’d given him a room, he was on call almost all the time, but he didn’t mind. His personality was such that he needed to be on the go continually. His colleagues thought he was intense. Some called him crazed.

  It was now midnight, and Ned was doing a set of one hundred sit-ups. Artie was in bed, with his earphones plugged into his CD player. The light was on. Artie had his eyes shut tight, with the sheet over his head. Finally he pulled the earphones out of his ears.

  “Ned, could we please turn out the light? I need my rest.”

  “I’ve got to finish my sit-ups,” Ned said, breathing heavily.

  “I thought it wasn’t good to exercise right before you went to bed,” Artie whined.

  “It relaxes me.”

  “Last night you took a swim in the pool. Why don’t you do that again?”

  “Why don’t you take a walk on the beach, Artie? You’ve been doing that every night. But you didn’t tonight. Something tells me you need it.”

  “I like to think things through at the end of the day when I walk on the beach, but tonight I’m tired.”

  “What do you think about?” Ned asked as he kept count of his sit-ups.

  “Like whether I should move on from Hudville.”

  “Move out of Hudville?”

  “Yeah. Too much rain and not enough people willing to pony up the money for a massage. I’m thinking of moving to Sweden. I hear people like massages there.”

  Ned rolled his eyes. “They must have plenty of masseurs. Maybe you should move to Hawaii. That’s what I did. I moved here when I separated from my wife last year, and I feel much better.”

  “I don’t know,” Artie said as he clenched and unclenched his hands. “I feel restless. I feel as if there are new things out there that I should be doing.”

  “Those relaxation tapes aren’t helping you much,” Ned noted.