"Mrs. Page is in the hospital." He was practically whispering now.
"What?"
"She was mugged last night," he said. "Right here in the hotel, although that is not public information. You didn't hear it from me."
Fine. Whatever. "You said she's in the hospital?"
"Kauai General. She asked us to get word to you. She would like to see you, if possible."
I thanked him, and said I'd get by to see her this morning. This certainly added a new wrinkle. I had planned on getting right out to the airport to talk to Willie Duran, the security guard, but maybe I ought to see Catherine first.
She was in a private room on the third floor, I discovered. Cautiously, I entered, unsure what to expect. She was sitting up in bed, dressed in a filmy apricot peignoir with a border of down. The way it framed her face made her look soft and delicate. There was a gauze square taped to her left temple, and beneath it an ugly purple bruise had begun spreading down her jaw.
Her eyes welled up at the sight of me. "Oh, Charlie," she said, her voice breaking on the last syllable. I submitted to a hug. The apricot feathers tickled my nose, almost triggering a sneeze reaction.
"What happened, Catherine?"
"I don't know exactly," she sniffed. "I came back to my room after dinner last night."
"What time was this?"
"Oh, about eight, I guess. Anyway, I walked into the room, and something attracted my attention toward the bathroom door. I turned toward it, and that's the last thing I remember. Apparently, the night maid found me a few minutes later, and called the paramedics. I came to while they were working over me, but I felt so dizzy."
She must have been attacked about the same time my room was broken into. I had to believe it was all connected somehow.
But how?
And why?
"Do you know if anything was stolen from your room?" I asked.
"No, I was too out of it. I couldn't even stand up without feeling faint. One of the paramedics was a woman, and she got my gown and cosmetics case for me."
"I'm sure whoever was hiding in the bathroom was long gone by that time."
"Oh, yes. It all happened so fast I never even got a look at him."
She looked like she was about to cry again. Her hands trembled. I wondered whether it was from emotional trauma, or the fact that she hadn't had a drink in several hours.
"Charlie, I was supposed to fly back to California this morning. I have to get back. Gil's funeral is tomorrow."
She touched the bandage gingerly. "I'm quite a sight, aren't I?"
"What has the doctor said about releasing you?"
"He checked me over this morning, and said I could go any time. I'm just nervous about it. What if the person who hit me comes after me again? Charlie, can you help me find out who did this?"
I thought about that. I was supposed to be working for Mack, and I wasn't ready to tell Catherine that she was still one of my suspects. However, I felt certain that the mugging would tie in somehow to the rest of the case. It also moved Catherine a little further down the suspect list.
"I'll see what I can find out," I told her.
"Thanks." She looked relieved as she reached for a small leather case on the table beside the bed. I noticed again that her hands shook as she held a gold lighter to the tip of her cigarette.
Something was still bothering me, and I decided I wouldn't get anywhere unless I came right out with it. "Catherine, what are your ties with Joe Esposito?"
She leaned back against her pillow and closed her eyes, taking a long pull on her cigarette. I sensed a debate going on inside. Finally, she exhaled deeply. Her eyes opened, but she kept them fixed on the ceiling.
"Joe thinks he's in love with me," she said.
Her voice was so quiet I had to practically lean over the bed.
"Three years ago, when Gil first loaned Mack the money for his business, we came over here to see the operation first-hand. Gil rarely involved me in his business deals, but I did go out to the heliport with him a time or two. I've never been brave enough to take a ride in one of those things, but they fascinate me.
"Joe was working on the helicopter, and Mack introduced us. Joe's reaction to me was the weirdest thing. He acted like a star-struck groupie. I mean, he stared, he got flustered when I spoke to him, he told me he thought I was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. It was almost spooky. I've never had a man react to me like that—ever.
A few days later, Mack and Gil had a meeting at our hotel, and Joe somehow managed to be invited along. I found it most disconcerting the way he stared at me. I was afraid Gil would notice. He was extremely possessive and insanely jealous. But, I guess Gil's mind was elsewhere because he never seemed to notice Joe."
"Did you ever see Joe alone?"
"No! I would have been frightened to, Charlie. His interest in me was almost fanatic."
"Did Joe ever show animosity toward Gil? Jealousy?"
"Not outwardly. Around Gil and Mack, he usually kept his eyes lowered, acting rather subservient."
"You said not outwardly. Did you see any indications privately?"
"Well, as I said, I really wasn't around him much. But, there was one time. I think it was during that meeting they all had at our hotel. Gil said something rude to me. I don't even remember what it was now, it was just his way. But, as I was leaving the room, I caught Joe staring at Gil with almost open hatred.
"I guess I remembered it because it was different from the reaction most people usually had. When a man is rude to his wife, most people will turn away, look embarrassed. I was used to that. But Joe looked ready to jump to my defense. Sort of a Latino machismo, you know."
I digested that. If Joe Esposito fancied himself in love with Catherine Page, he might have taken it upon himself to permanently fix her marital problems. Or, there was still the possibility that Catherine and Joe had cooked up the plan together. She might have implied favors to come if her husband was out of the way.
Right now, she seemed in control and sure of herself, but I had seen her after a few drinks, too. Who knew what might run through her head when she loosened up a bit?
However, those suppositions didn't help answer the question of who might have hit Catherine last night. Surely, Joe wouldn't do that to the woman he said he loved? Unless, of course, something in the little romance had gone awry.
Catherine was sitting up in bed now, looking better after lightening her burden.
"Charlie, I need to get out of here. Could you help me get checked out, and take me back to the hotel?"
I wasn't really up for becoming her babysitter, but I supposed I could do at least that much. I told her to get dressed while I walked down the hall to the nurse's station to see about the paperwork. When I got back to her room with a wheelchair, which the hospital insisted on, Catherine was dressed.
She looked somewhat overdone in last night's attire, a black cocktail dress with a gold lamé ruffle over one shoulder. She had slipped on her black satin pumps without hose, and her legs looked white and skinny with small blotches of varicose veins showing.
She was still a little slow on her feet when we got to the hotel, but made it to her room all right. I got on the phone to see what could be done about changing her plane reservations, while she went into the bathroom and changed from her evening dress to a lightweight jogging suit. She gathered her few belongings and put them into her suitcase.
The soonest flight I could get for her didn't leave until seven that evening, so I suggested she use the time to sleep. After putting in a wakeup call for five-thirty, I told her to lock all the deadbolts behind me. I waited until I heard them click into place before walking off down the hall.
I felt increasingly uneasy as I walked out toward my car. The chat with Catherine had only solidified my nagging thoughts about Joe Esposito. Now I knew he had motive.
My next move would be to talk to Willie Duran. He should be able to confirm when Joe had come and gone from the hangar last Fri
day night. He might have even seen Joe removing the body.
That, coupled with the fuse found in my room, and Catherine's statement, might be enough to get the heat off Mack. The problem was still the disposal of the body. If I couldn't prove my boat theory, the suspicion would still be on Mack and his helicopter.
I felt like something was about to break, and I didn't like not knowing what it would be.
I was concerned, too, about Drake. If Joe really was our man, he could be dangerous. He must know we were getting close to something if he took the trouble to ransack my room last night. He also must know, too, that Drake and I were involved with each other. If Joe wanted Drake out of the way, it would be a simple matter for him to sabotage the aircraft.
I thought of the miles of treacherous coastline where an emergency landing would be difficult, if not impossible.
I drove slowly past the helipads. Mack's helicopter was out. It didn't ease my mind any. I parked near the maintenance area, locked the car and approached the gate.
Willie Duran was a cocky little rooster of a man, twenty-eight or -nine, his black hair slicked back on the sides, low in front like a young Elvis. He watched me approach the gate with an appreciative gleam in his eye, like I was doing a strip-tease just for him. I guess his attitude was supposed to be a turn-on, but it's not my style.
He wore his uniform about a size too small, so it fit like a glove. The short sleeves of his shirt were rolled up several turns to impress the world with his biceps. Sleazy. I thought of the poor girl staying home with kids hanging all over her.
"Hey, doll," he said, "what can I do for you?" His voice was low and he probably meant it to sound provocative.
Doll is among the list of names, including honey, baby, and sweetie, which I do not take well to. I tend to become cool, if not downright frosty. I pulled out my card and notebook, not bothering to explain the limits of my duties with the investigation firm. His puffed-out pectorals dropped perceptibly when I didn't warm up to his bait.
"I have some questions for you pertaining to last Friday night. I understand you were on duty that night from three to eleven?"
His weight shifted from one foot to the other; his flashy smile disappeared. I could tell he was discomfited dealing with a woman in authority. I loved it.
"Is that correct?" My voice sounded sharp but I wasn't going to cut this creep any slack.
"Uh, yes, ma'am."
Ma'am. That's more like it. "You are aware that a man was murdered that night, over in the Paradise Helicopters hangar?"
"Yes, ma'am. I've already talked to the police."
Ma’am. That’s more like it. “You are aware that a man was murdered that night, over in the Paradise Helicopter hangar?”
“Yes, ma’am. The police, they already been here.”
"I'm representing an innocent man who is under suspicion. I may have to ask some of the same questions over."
He nodded, peering toward my notebook. I tilted it away from him. Nosy little jerk.
"How did the victim get into the hangar? Did he have a security badge?"
"Well, he walk up to the gate with Mack Garvey. I stop him, and ask to see his badge, but Mack say it’s okay. I tell him I'm supposed to see a badge, but Mr. Garvey get real irritated. It was late, and no one around, so I went ahead and let them both go through."
"Was Joe Esposito around?"
"His truck was in the lot. Been there all afternoon."
"Was Joe in the hangar when the other two arrived?"
"I don't know. He goes back and forth between the hangars a lot. He does maintenance for Mack, for Bill Steiner, some others, too, so he's all over the place."
"Did he leave during the evening?"
He shuffled a little, and avoided eye contact. "I'm not sure. Most times he takes a dinner break, but I can't remember if he did that night."
"After Mack and his visitor got here, did you hear an argument between them?"
He grinned. "There's so much noise around here, I don't pay attention. You know, planes taking off and landing, helicopters, the wind, the surf."
It was probably a dumb question. Even standing three feet apart, we were having to raise our voices slightly just to converse. But Joe had said he overheard the argument. It was worth asking.
"Willie, did you see Mack and the visitor leave? Either or both of them?"
Again, the lack of eye contact. "Nope. Neither one."
"How could that be? Mack says he had an argument with the other guy, then he got mad and left. How could he have got past you without your seeing him?"
He shrugged.
I watched him shift from one foot to the other. His eyes darted around, connecting everywhere except with my gaze, which I kept steadily on his face.
"Willie... you left your post that night, didn't you?"
"Look, don't tell, please." The cockiness was all gone. I was looking at a scared overgrown teenager. I waited for him to continue.
"Clarissa, that's my girlfriend, she came by that night. She was crying and carrying on, said she had to talk to me. Said she just found out she was pregnant, and what were we going to do about it.
"I had to get her out of here. I got a wife and kids at home, too. I had to calm Clarissa down before she did something stupid."
A girlfriend? Wow, he was a busy little dude.
"I took her back to her car, and we drove down to Ahukini Landing. It's only a quarter mile or so away, but at least it's private. I was only gone maybe a half hour."
"Did you lock the gate when you left?"
"I think so, but I'm not really sure. I was busy worrying about where I was going to come up with abortion money, when my wife takes every paycheck of mine straight to the bank."
He looked like he might burst into tears.
"Look, I can't let Jack Akito find out about this. His wife and mine are cousins. He'd kill me."
I almost felt sorry for the little jerk. How do people manage to get themselves into these things? I wondered if he had ever considered the merits of keeping his pants zipped.
I left him standing there looking considerably less sure of himself than he'd been when I arrived.
Chapter 16
Back in my car, I looked at my watch. It was still only two o'clock. Drake wouldn't be through with his last flight until around five. A glance at the date told me that, unless I changed my plans, I only had two more days here on the island. I really should buy some gifts to take back home.
Besides, distancing myself from the case for a few hours might help snap something into perspective that was still missing.
Willie had told me that Joe did maintenance for both Mack and Bill Steiner. Could he somehow be involved in their legal scrapping? If he had a grudge against Mack, that would certainly be one way to fuel the fire. I wondered how I could find out more about the ongoing battle.
I had started the car, and put the gearshift in reverse, when I heard the distinctive boom-boom-thud, boom-boom-thud of a stereo behind me. Joe Esposito's top-heavy looking red pickup truck was just pulling into the lot. He parked two spaces down from me and cut the engine. I backed out, and headed back toward the road.
As I drew even with his truck, I felt him watching me. When I looked out at him, he quickly averted his eyes. The little glass fuse, down in my pants pocket, rubbed against my leg.
Joe walked on past me, without a backward glance. In my rearview mirror, I saw him present his security badge to Willie Duran, and pass through the gate. Willie said something to Joe, and they both looked up at me.
The Mack Garvey/Bill Steiner question continued to nag at me. Here was one man who made no secret of the fact that he'd like to put Mack out of business.
Seeing that Mack went off to jail would be a quick and inexpensive way to do it. A lot less expensive than a legal battle.
I debated whether to try and track Steiner down and question him. Assuming I could, though, what would I ask him? Hey, Bill, ever think about killing some guy you don't know, jus
t to put one of your competitors out of business?
Somehow, I didn't think I'd get too far with that.
The traffic light at Ahukini and Kuhio took forever to turn green, but I finally got my chance. I was wandering, I had to admit, a little at a loss for what to do next, halfway looking for somewhere to buy a few tourist goodies.
On my right, I suddenly noticed the newspaper office just ahead. On an impulse, I pulled into the parking area, almost getting rear-ended in the process.
If they had copies of back issues, I might be able to find something about Steiner's and Mack's lawsuit. Mack's file only presented one side of it. I wondered if the battle had ever made the local news.
On the outside, the newspaper office looked about the same as many other small businesses on the island—cinderblock building with peeling paint, weeds growing up through cracks in the parking lot. Inside, though, it was clean and well-lit. A half dozen people worked at computer terminals.
The girl at the front desk had skin the color of toffee, and straight black hair that was so long I wondered how she avoided sitting on it.
She showed me to the microfiche reader, and demonstrated how to work it. I asked to see the issues from one to two years old.
According to Mack's file, the lawsuit had started about a year ago. I hoped to find something right before that time that might have precipitated it.
Steiner's name wasn't difficult to locate. He was obviously one of the more vocal helicopter operators on the island, frequently quoted on one issue or another. I went back fourteen months, and didn't find anything linking his name to Mack's. I kept looking.
Another month or more passed with no mention of either name. When I next came across Steiner's name, I stopped with a jolt.
Steiner had been arrested fifteen months ago for assault and battery on one Gilbert Page.
According to the article, the California tourist, Page, had become verbally abusive after having a few too many at a local night spot. Apparently, an exchange had begun between the two men, the subject of which was the cocktail waitress who had served them both.
Vacations Can Be Murder: The Second Charlie Parker Mystery Page 15