Burned

by Carol Higgins Clark

  “It wasn’t that hard,” Ned protested to the television.

  “…The owner did not get a look at his assailant but says he’s sure he saw a flash of some sort of yellow. It’s not a lot to go on, but the police are determined to track down and put the coward who perpetrated this horrendous act behind bars.”

  Ned went white. My yellow knapsack. I left it in the alleyway. Did it have anything in it that would identify me? He raced out of the room and, too impatient to wait for the elevator, took the stairs to the main floor two at a time, and once again jumped into a cab. I can’t get caught, he thought. No matter what, I can’t get caught.

  40

  W ill arranged for a driver from the hotel to take Regan and Gus to Dorinda’s apartment. It was located several blocks from the beach in a two-story pink building with a small parking lot right in front.

  “Not exactly glamorous,” Gus declared when the car stopped, “but the price is right.”

  This guy is classic, Regan thought. He’s about to enter the apartment where his dead cousin has been living for the past couple of months, and all he’s thinking about is that he can stay for free. The driver offered to help with Gus’s bag, but Gus had a suitcase with wheels and seemed pleased to cart it himself. He rang the super’s bell and identified himself as, once again, the cousin.

  The super handed over the keys and shut the door.

  “She lived on the second floor,” Gus proclaimed cheerfully.

  There was no elevator, so he lifted his suitcase, and Regan followed him up the steps. On the second-floor landing Gus turned and announced, “Here we are!” He unlocked the door to 2B and pushed it open. He reached for the light switch and flicked it on. A small but cozy living room lay in front of them. Straight ahead a round diningroom table was pushed up against a bay window. The table was covered with papers. A desk against the wall was also overflowing with clutter. Photographic equipment was scattered around.

  “From the way it looked out front, I expected worse,” Gus declared, “but this place is kind of cute.”

  “It is,” Regan agreed, wondering if the bright blue couch was a Bernadette Castro special. A multicolored area rug, two beige over-stuffed chairs, and a coffee table filled with Hawaiian knickknacks filled the room. Framed prints of various sunsets covered the walls. Regan glanced briefly in the bedroom, which was tiny. The bed was made, but some clothes were thrown on a chair. In the bathroom, toiletries filled the shelves. A compact kitchen was located just off the dining area. The place was clean but messy. Dorinda had clearly made her mark.

  Gus walked around. “I have to say it is a little depressing to think that Dorinda is dead. Now that I see her things, I wish we’d seen each other a little more.”

  “I can understand. I’m sorry.” Regan walked over to the desk and looked at the framed pictures. One was a group shot obviously taken at a party. A beaming Dorinda was gazing up with adoring eyes at a tall guy in a tuxedo. Regan picked it up, inspected it closely, and was shocked to realize that the guy Dorinda was gazing up at was Steve! I can’t believe it, she thought. She looks like she’s in love with him.

  “No family photos,” Gus commented as he looked around. “Well, everyone except me is dead, and Dorie was hardly the sentimental type.”

  “You don’t mind if I go through a few of the things on her desk?” Regan asked.

  “It’s all the same time to me. I’ll bring my suitcase into the bedroom and start to get settled. I’m going to need to lay down soon.”

  “I won’t be long.”

  “Take your time,” Gus practically ordered in his booming voice. He took out his handkerchief and heartily blew his nose. “I get so stuffed up on planes,” he commented. He waved his handkerchief around and then crammed it back in his pocket.

  He must have driven Dorinda nuts, Regan mused. She turned and picked up the photo once again and looked at Steve and Dorinda. He obviously knew Dorinda but hadn’t said much about her. Regan sat down and sorted through the papers that were all over the desktop. There were scribblings on various sheets of paper. Notes to do errands and take pictures. She pulled open the top drawer where she expected to find a jumble of pens and paper clips. Instead there was a lone tan file marked PROSPECTIVE DIRT. Regan’s heart skipped a beat. She opened it. The first thing she saw was a last will and testament of someone named Sal Hawkins.

  Who’s that? Regan wondered as she started to read.

  “I, Sal Hawkins, being of sound mind and body, do hereby leave all my earthly possessions, including cash and the proceeds from the sale of my house, to the Praise the Rain Club for future trips to Hawaii.”

  That’s the group at the hotel, Regan realized as she read on. He’d left two sisters in charge of the money with instructions to lead five others to Hawaii every three months. Sal Hawkins had left an estate valued at $10 million. That should cover a lot of trips to Hawaii, Regan imagined. She looked at the date of the will. It was only four years ago. If he died soon after, there should be money for trips for years to come. But Will had been talking about how cheap the tour organizers were.

  Regan found a blank piece of paper and took a few notes. She looked through the rest of the file and almost missed another picture of Steve, this time by himself. She turned the photo over. The caption read, “Retired from WHAT?” Oh, boy, she thought. What’s this all about? He was standing in a bar smiling at the camera. Regan wasn’t sure whether it was a bar at the Waikiki Waters or not. So what’s the prospective dirt on him? A newspaper clipping about Claude Mott Enterprises was also in the file. It was one paragraph long and said that he was attempting to launch a line of leisure clothing. Stapled to the back of the article was a picture of Jazzy.

  Well, Regan thought, she really seems to have zoned in on that group. But why? Did Steve spurn her advances? Regan could certainly understand why Dorinda and Jazzy wouldn’t have gotten along; they were too much alike. And what about this tour group?

  “How are you doing, Regan? Did you find anything interesting about my cousin?” Gus reentered the room. He was drying his face with a hand towel. “It feels so good to freshen up. I can’t wait to get a swim tomorrow. Now that will really feel good.”

  “There are a few things here, Gus. Do you mind if I take this file with me?”

  “Go ahead. It looks like it’s going to be some job sorting through Dorinda’s things. I’ll probably give most of it away to whatever Hawaii’s version of Goodwill is.”

  “I know you want to rest, so I’ll get out of your way. If you don’t mind, I might give you a call tomorrow.”

  “I’d be delighted. And I’ll see you at the ball tomorrow night, right?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Marvelous. Shall I call you a cab?”

  “I’ll head out and start walking. I could use the exercise. I’m sure I’ll be able to hail one on the street.”

  “Be careful out there, Regan. This doesn’t appear to be the best part of town.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Two minutes later Regan was out on the street. She walked toward the beach and decided to take the route to the Waikiki Waters that she had been told Dorinda had taken many times. The route Dorinda was supposedly taking a couple of nights ago, the night she didn’t make it home.

  As Regan walked, she wondered at what point Dorinda had steered from this path. When Regan approached the jetty, she stared out at the rocks. A couple, hand in hand, emerged from the base down at the very end, out by the water. They started walking slowly back toward the beach. Oh, Dorinda, Regan thought. Was this where you met your fate? Regan shrugged. I’m afraid it’s something we might never know.

  41

  “I just got out of a relationship,” Francie declared to Artie as the two of them meandered along the beach. “He always had me on the back burner. I don’t think of myself as back burner material, you know?”

  “Sure,” Artie answered absentmindedly. He was thinking about the way Ned had run out of the room today. All of a
sudden Ned seemed to have something important on his mind, and it was obviously distracting him.

  “I’d really like to meet a guy,” Francie admitted. “And I’m sick of being hit on by men who just want a little fun on the side. If you can believe it, that Bob tried to put the moves on me the other night. Can you stand it? His wife had gone to bed, and he’s writing the chapter in the book about how to keep a relationship exciting. If his wife catches him, it will really be exciting. She’ll throw a vase at his head.”

  “He made a pass at you?” Artie asked.

  “I’d have to say yes. He said that his wife was really boring and wished he could have a little extra fun in Hawaii.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Dorinda Dawes came up behind us and snapped our picture. Bob got upset. End of conversation.”

  “And now she’s dead.”

  Francie stopped in her tracks and grabbed Artie’s arm. “Do you think there’s a connection?”

  Artie shrugged. “You never know.”

  “The Mixed Bag Tour group would never be the same.”

  “Who cares?” Artie answered as he picked up a stone and threw it into the water. “Gert and Ev are nothing but two big cheapskates. It’s hardly fun. Can you believe that I have to share a room with Ned?”

  “He seems nice,” Francie said coyly.

  “You like him, don’t you?”

  “Well, at least he’s the right age. But it doesn’t matter. We’re leaving in a couple of days anyway.”

  Joy was approaching them from the opposite direction. She was jogging.

  “Here she comes,” Artie grunted. “Little miss lifeguard chaser.”

  “She’s just a kid,” Francie said. “I wish I were her age again. Sometimes.”

  Huffing and puffing, Joy ran toward them. She finally stopped a few feet from them and struggled to catch her breath. “Gert and Ev called my cell phone,” she said. “They’re not going to make it back for cocktails or dinner.”

  “They’re not? How many hotels could they be looking at?” Francie asked.

  “I don’t know. They never let me ask questions.” Joy wiped her brow with her hand. “They said the five of us should go to dinner together in any of the restaurants here at the hotel and sign it to their room.”

  “Let’s all order caviar and champagne,” Artie suggested, “and then move on to prime rib and lobster.”

  “Did you tell Bob and Betsy?” Francie asked.

  “I called their room, but there’s no answer. I left them a message.”

  “It’s so unlike Gert and Ev not to be here breathing down our necks and watching everything we order,” Artie commented. “Something’s up with them.”

  “Let’s make the most of it,” Francie cried gleefully. “We’ll eat, drink, and spend money.”

  “When are our fearless leaders going to be back?” Artie asked.

  “Later tonight. They plan to be on the morning beach walk tomorrow.”

  “You know, it seems that everyone is going to the ball except us,” Francie noted. “I think we should order tickets for the group and charge them to their room, too.”

  “They’re sold out,” Joy declared. “I don’t want to go anyway.”

  “Well, I do,” Francie said. “They’re going to have hula dancers, two bands, dinner, and dancing. I don’t want to just sit through another boring group dinner. I feel like Cinderella.” She turned to Artie. “What do you think?”

  “If I don’t have to pay for it, I’ll go.”

  “Well, you don’t,” Francie said with conviction. “I’m sure Sal Hawkins would have wanted us to have some fun. Let’s go to the manager’s office and see if we can order tickets. Joy, you’re sure you don’t want us to get one for you?”

  “Positive.”

  “What about our exciting couple?” Artie asked.

  “Let them fend for themselves. We’ll get tickets for you and me.”

  “I can’t wait to see the expressions on Gert and Ev’s faces when they find out you charged expensive tickets to their room,” Joy said mischievously.

  “I don’t care,” Francie declared. “Artie, let’s go. Joy, how about if we meet at the pool at seven for cocktails and then we’ll go eat?”

  “Fine.”

  “Where could Gert and Ev possibly be?” Artie asked as he and Francie headed for the reception area.

  Francie laughed. “Maybe they got lucky.”

  42

  “W hy did you have to follow us?” Ev asked Jason and Carla. “Why? You should have known that that was a very bad idea.”

  Jason and Carla were tied up in the basement of Gert and Ev’s newly built, nearly finished home on the Big Island. The smell of sawdust was still in the air. The house was up in the hills, twelve hundred feet above sea level, nestled in a rural wooded section of the island. Gert and Ev planned to move in lock, stock, and barrel by early summer. They figured they’d have lots of privacy on their six-acre lot. The next-door neighbor could only be reached by taking an overgrown path though the woods. But Gert and Ev could stand on their deck and see the Pacific Ocean way off in the distance. They had a large swimming pool and a hot tub for cold mornings in the mountains. It was their dream home purchased with Sal Hawkins’s money that should have been spent on waterlogged Hudville residents.

  “You couldn’t mind your own business, could you?” Gert asked. “You followed us out of the restaurant and thought you were being sneaky. Or did you just happen to come up this way? Our long, winding driveway is not exactly a busy thoroughfare.”

  “You were so rude to us at the airport,” Carla snapped.

  “Since when is being rude a crime?” Ev retorted. “Gert, did you know being rude is a crime?”

  “No, sister. I certainly didn’t.”

  “Then what crime did you commit?” Carla asked with more bravado than she felt. “Just because we drove up your driveway, you don’t have to hold us against our will. You could have just told us to get lost.”

  “You were getting into our business,” Ev declared. “And now you’ve made us miss our flight back to Oahu. We’re not happy about that.”

  “I hate missing my dinner,” Gert said as she blew on the pistol she had in her hands. The sight of the pistol was the only reason Jason did as he was told.

  “Let us go,” Jason implored. “Let’s just forget we ever ran into you.”

  Ev shook her head. “I don’t think so. We know that you’ll go and tell everyone about our hideaway. Right, Gert?”

  “Sure enough, sister.”

  “Then what are you going to do with us?” Carla asked, practically choking on her words.

  “We have to figure that out. But I don’t anticipate a very pleasant outcome for you. Gert and I have a lot to look forward to, and we don’t want anyone to ruin our plans.”

  “So do we,” Carla cried. “We just got engaged. I want to get married!”

  “Gert can marry you. She’s an online minister.”

  “I’d rather die!” Carla spat.

  “Maybe you will, my dear,” Ev answered. “Let’s go, sister. We have to see if we can get a later flight back to Oahu. We have to be there first thing in the morning or else our tour group will start to wonder.”

  “Are you just going to leave us here?” Jason asked. His hands were tied behind his back, and they ached. Ev had tied them so tightly, his circulation was being cut off.

  “We’ll be back to take care of you tomorrow night when it’s dark and no one is around. But first we have to make sure you don’t try to make too much noise.” Ev pulled some torn sheets from a bag on the floor. “Here, sister.” She nodded to Gert.

  Quickly the two of them tied gags around Carla and Jason’s mouths.

  Gert pointed the gun at the couple. “Don’t try anything funny. You’ll be sorry if you do.” She turned, followed her twin up the steps, and flicked off the light.

  43

  G lenn the bellman took a quick break shortly after Ned had
handed over the shopping bag. He went into a tiny staff lavatory off the package room where they stored all the suitcases, packages, surfboards, and golf clubs that were waiting to be delivered to guests’ rooms. It was a Friday afternoon, large groups of people were checking in, and it was a madhouse. Glenn was sure he could slip away for a couple of minutes and not be noticed since there were several other bellmen on duty.

  The bathroom rated high on the gross-out scale. In fact, gas station latrines were more inviting.

  But Glenn didn’t care. He’d chosen it because of that. He knew that he’d have more privacy here. Girls wouldn’t come within ten feet of this place, and even the guys preferred to use the decent bathrooms down the hall from the bell station, as opposed to this little box that had somehow escaped the renovation process. It also seemed to have escaped attention from any maid for the last twenty years.

  Glenn’s conversation with Ned had sparked his curiosity. Ned had seemed nervous. What exactly was in the box? What kind of toys was he talking about? It looked like a pretty sloppy wrapping job. He was sure that he could take a peek at the box’s contents, reseal it, and leave it for Ned’s friend to pick up.

  He locked the door and flicked the seat cover down on the toilet. It landed with a bang. He sat down and pulled the box out of the shopping bag. The hula girls on the wrapping paper were smiling at him, as if they knew what he was up to. Glenn shook the box. It rattled.

  A piece of tape had become unstuck, and the wrapping paper that had covered a side of the box spread open. Glenn laughed. “This is too easy.”

  Glenn was something of an expert at fishing around people’s bags and packages, and at slithering in and out of rooms at the hotel. He was able to appear and disappear without people taking much notice, and if they did, he could say he was doing something for Will. He had really pulled the wool over Will’s eyes and used it to his great advantage. Will thought that he was Glenn’s mentor. Huh! I could mentor him on a few things, Glenn thought.