Lana'i of the Tiger (The Islands of Aloha Mystery Series)

by JoAnn Bassett

  Things were starting to fall into place. I recalled Wong’s comment to Darryl that ‘things aren’t always what they seem.’

  ***

  We drove Ono’s VW bus back to Lahaina and I gassed it up. Kate insisted on paying for the gas, which I appreciated, since I’d used the last of my White Orchid earnings for my ferry ticket. I parked and took the keys back to the Maui Happy Returns boat slip and hid them in the dock box marked with the slip number.

  We got back to the ferry waiting area with plenty of time to spare before the twelve-forty-five departure to Lana’i. As we waited, Kate and I reviewed what we’d learned.

  “Okay, so Marta’s got a twin sister here on Maui,” Kate said. “And she’s legal because she married an American. How great is that?”

  Kate seemed way more concerned about saving her job than solving a murder, but I couldn’t blame her. She’d never met Deedee Diamonte or Tyler Benson.

  “So let me see if we’re thinking alike,” I said. “You’re going to ask Maria to come to Lana’i and pretend she’s Marta?” I said.

  “No, I’m going to ask the security guys to come over here to Maui. They already know Marta left Lana’i and she doesn’t want to work for us anymore. We can meet at the Four Seasons in Wailea. They’ll take Marta’s statement and leave. They’ll probably alert the police, but that’s up to them. I’ll tell Maria if she’ll impersonate her sister for me I’ll make sure Marta gets paid for the week she worked at the Lodge.”

  “And, by coming forward, Maria will also make it possible for her sister to come back to the U.S. for visits,” I added. “But what if they ask Maria questions we didn’t ask Marta? What if they try to trip her up?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Marta’s already quit. It’s not as if she could get fired. And when Maria talks to the police she can just say she doesn’t remember. What’re they going to do? She’s a witness, not a suspect.”

  By now the ferry was pulling into view. I was sad to be leaving Maui so soon, but I was anxious to get back to Lana’i and find the last piece of the puzzle before Wong caught up with me.

  “Can I go back to the Lodge with you?” I said. “I’d like to look around for whatever it was that George Romano threw off that lanai,” I said.

  “I think the police probably searched the area pretty carefully,” Kate said.

  “Yeah, I’m sure they did. But if our chubby jumper had a pitcher’s arm, you never know. Whatever it was could’ve landed outside the search grid.”

  She didn’t say anything. Maybe now that Kate had her own problem solved, she wasn’t that interested in delving any further into mine.

  I went on, “But you know what really bugs me? How did Tyler Benson’s prints get on that knife?”

  “Yes,” said Kate, sounding like she was warming to the notion of playing Nancy Drew with me. “And why wasn’t there much blood?”

  “Yeah. That doesn’t make sense. Unless…” I tapped my finger against my chin to signal brain cells at work. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “I am if you’re thinking maybe Ms. Diamonte didn’t die from a knife wound,” she said.

  ***

  It was tough for me to watch Lahaina disappearing off the stern of the ferry. But at least I knew I’d be coming back soon. Eluding Wong meant I hadn’t heard any updates on our trip to ‘Disney World.’ But regardless, even waiting until the first of the year meant I only had a couple more weeks to go.

  We docked at Manele Bay and Kate and I walked to the parking area and climbed into her Corolla. On the ride up to Lana’i City we formulated a plan.

  She drove past the Hotel Lana’i, past Dole Park, and on up to the Lodge at Koele. Even though it was her day off, she still parked in her marked spot in the employee parking lot.

  “I don’t want to go past the front desk,” she said. “Everyone knows me and they’ll ask why I’m here.”

  We skirted the outside of the building and came to a spot where the immaculate lawn had been trampled and torn up. The police tape was gone, but the area under Deedee Diamonte’s lanai was going to need a few more days of water and sunshine to erase the signs of a police investigation.

  “So that was her suite up there?” I pointed to a lanai above the sloping roofline of the extended first floor. “Seems like the first floor roof should’ve broken Romano’s fall.”

  “Yes, it’s pretty wide, but from what I hear so was Mr. Romano,” said Kate.

  “I guess a guy that big and out of shape wouldn’t land on his feet like a cat.”

  “Apparently not,” she said.

  We started searching the bushes for the ‘wad of paper.’ After about ten minutes I’d come across very little—a stray golf ball, a yellow crayon, and a Tic-Tac box.

  “How’re you doing?” I yelled to Kate.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “But I just found something you might want to see.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Kate was crouched down, pointing to a knotted lump about the size of a hen’s egg. It was under a cluster of small bushes at the base of a palm tree.

  “What is that?” I said.

  “I’m not sure, but it looks like gloves.”

  “Gloves?”

  “Yes, see? I think those are fingers there. It looks like a pair of gloves tied together.”

  All I saw was a knot of dirty rubber. I hated to think what it might be if it turned out to be something other than a pair of gloves. I squatted down beside her to get a better look. It could have been a trick of the light, since the knot was well-hidden in the shrubbery, but I thought I detected dark brown smudges on the beige-colored rubber.

  “We use latex gloves like these in housekeeping,” she said. She reached in and turned the lump over using a pen she’d taken from her purse. On the underside, a thumb and forefinger were clearly apparent.

  “Those are gloves all right,” I said. “We better leave them here, just as they are.” I’d learned the hard way about messing with evidence. “The police will probably want to take pictures of where they were found before they bag them and send ‘em to the lab.”

  “Now what do we do?” said Kate.

  “Well, now I’m going to go inside and make a quick call. I’ll tell the Four Seasons security guys that I just remembered something. I’ll say Marta said she may have seen a man on the lanai toss something over toward the palm tree.”

  “But isn’t that risky? I’m sure they’ll call in the police to investigate,” said Kate. “What if they demand that you come in and talk to them again? Or they step up their search for Marta? And what if Romano didn’t throw these gloves? What if they just turn out to be some trash that fell off a housekeeping cart?”

  “Where’s the risk? Marta’s on a jet to Manila and these gloves will be checked out at the forensics lab. I think the security guys and the cops will be way more interested in looking into some possible new evidence than tracking down a couple of out-of-work hotel maids.” I stood up to leave.

  “I can’t believe how brave you are,” said Kate. “First your husband’s military career makes you go into hiding, and then you help me save my job and get to the bottom of this horrible murder. When you can, please email me and let me know how you’re doing.”

  She handed me her Four Seasons business card. It read, “Kate Abaya, Housekeeping Supervisor.” It had numbers for the front desk, her extension, and her Four Seasons email address. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough. I don’t know what I would’ve done if…” She let it trail off, as if losing her job in the Four Seasons housekeeping department was not only unthinkable but unspeakable.

  ***

  I went into the lobby and asked the perky desk clerk if I could use their telephone. I flashed her Latham’s card and she smiled and pointed to the concierge desk. “You’re welcome to use that phone over there,” she said. “Just dial nine to get an outside line.”

  I dialed the number on Latham’s card.

  “Eric Latham,” he said when he answer
ed.

  “Mr. Latham? It’s me, Stella Marquez from the housekeeping department at the Lodge at Koele. Do you remember me?”

  “Of course. Have you located your co-worker yet?”

  “Yes, it seems she went to Maui to calm down after all the commotion. If you want to talk to her you’re going to need to do it quickly because she’s planning an overseas trip to visit her mother. She said she won’t be coming back for a while, maybe never.”

  “Is that why you’re calling, Ms. Marquez? To tell me Marta’s leaving?”

  “Yes. And, she remembered something I think you should look into.”

  “What’s that?”

  “On the night of the incident Marta said she saw a man in Miss Diamonte’s room throw something off the lanai.”

  “I thought you told us you didn’t see a man.”

  “I didn’t see him, but Marta swears she did.”

  “And now you say he threw something?”

  “What I’m saying is it might be something you’ll want to look into. She said she thinks whatever he threw probably landed around the palms trees.”

  “How would she know where it landed? Look, we need to interview this Marta. The police are looking for her, too. I’m obligated to give them all information we uncover during our internal investigation. Where can we reach her?

  “Kate Abaya is already making plans for you to meet with Marta before she leaves. Oh, I’m sorry, but I need to go. You told me to call if I thought of anything, and so I called. Aloha.” I hung up and thanked the desk clerk on my way out.

  The doorman whisked the door open as I approached. I went outside and saw the shuttle bus roaring up the long driveway. The time had come to take my lumps from Detective Wong.

  ***

  While the shuttle made its way down to the Hotel Lana’i, two cop cars screamed past. I couldn’t be sure, but I figured chances were good they were on their way to the Lodge to beat the bushes out near the palm trees.

  The sun was getting low in the sky. I got off the bus and strolled through shadowy Dole Park on my way to the police station. I mentally bid aloha to the kind people I’d met on Lana’i. There was Mr. Ho in the greenhouse who’d dropped everything to take me down to the ferry to get Auntie Cora. And the guy at the café who’d offered to do the fancy pupu platters for Tyler and Deedee’s wedding. And Stella, who’d given up a good job to protect a co-worker from getting deported. I nodded toward the lights of Auntie Cora’s little yellow bungalow, and then I slowed to a stop as I came to the corner of Kua’aina Street, the home of Darryl and Ewa and now little Ekana.

  I approached the modern one-story Lana’i Police Station. The lobby was ablaze with fluorescent lights and Detective Wong was leaning on the reception desk.

  “I’ve been expecting you,” he said, looking up. He didn’t look as furious as I’m sure he felt.

  “Yeah. Sorry about that.” I looked around. The room was beige on beige on beige. Funny how all government buildings seem to use the same color-blind interior decorator.

  “Do I need to get out my cuffs?” he said.

  “No. What I needed to get done got done,” I said.

  “Excellent,” he said with more than a hint of sarcasm. He led me past the front desk and into a tiny interview room. After he closed the door, he said, “I guess you’re probably aware of what’s going on up at the Lodge.”

  “Not really. What’s happening?”

  He looked sorry he’d mentioned it. “We got a tip on some possible new evidence,” he said. “Sounds promising.”

  “That’s great.” I glanced toward the door. “Is Tyler Benson still in custody?”

  “He’s in Wailuku.”

  “In jail?”

  “In jail.”

  “Have you charged him with the murders?”

  “I said he’s in jail,” said Wong. “I’ll leave the rest up to your vivid imagination.”

  “I have a theory about what happened that night,” I said.

  “Although I’m respectful of your opinion, Ms. Moon, I really don’t want to discuss an on-going investigation with you.”

  “You called me by my real name.”

  “There have been some developments.”

  “Really?” I said. “What’s going on?”

  “Way I see it, your little disappearing act left me cooling my heels here. Why should I tell you anything?”

  “Cooling your heels? Gimme a break, Wong. You were called to Lana’i to work this murder investigation. My taking off had nothing to do with you still being here.” I paused to allow him time to silently agree with me. “So, tell me the news.”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he shot me a smug look and shrugged.

  “C’mon, Detective Wong,” I said, but truthfully I couldn’t blame him. I’d been the object of a police BOLO for almost forty-eight hours. No doubt he’d lost a lot of face by not being able to round up a haole-looking out-of-towner on an island with fewer people than you could fit in the bleachers at Maui High School.

  “I’ve got to check on something, Ms. Moon,” Wong said. “You sit tight and I’ll be right back.”

  CHAPTER 29

  No surprise, I was left staring at the walls of that interview room for more than an hour before Wong returned.

  Without a word of explanation for his prolonged absence, he set a Diet Pepsi and a packaged sandwich on the table. “Hungry?”

  I nodded and ripped into the tuna salad on wheat like a cheetah on a limping gazelle. When I finished, Wong gestured for me to get up and follow him.

  “May I ask where we’re going?” I said.

  “Sure, asking’s free.”

  “But you’re not going to tell me?”

  He stood in the doorway. “Does it really matter, Ms. Moon? You’re here at the behest of your government, for your own safety and to maintain the security of a federal action against a high level illegal drug operation. Where you go or how long it takes should be the least of your concerns. What you should be focused on is what an honor it is for you to be of service to your homeland in ridding our islands of the criminal element that’s destroying our next generation with their meth, their crack and their heroin.”

  What I thought was, Quite a speech Detective Wong. You should consider running for political office. What I said was: “I was just curious if we were leaving tonight or if you had to stick around to finish up the Diamonte murder investigation.”

  “There are no ferries or planes out until morning,” he said. “We’ll be leaving first thing tomorrow. That’s all I’m at liberty to say.”

  “Well, are you at liberty to let me know where I’ll be staying tonight? From what I hear, the jail here is barely adequate.”

  “I’ll be staying at the Hotel Lana’i,” he said.

  I waited.

  “Okay, you did turn yourself in. I guess it’s only fair to catch you up on a few things.”

  And with that Detective Glen Wong began filling me in on everything that had happened in the past couple of days. Seems the grand jury members in Los Angeles had been notified they’d be sworn in two days after Christmas. Subpoenas had already been issued and I wasn’t on the list. Not being on the federal witness list meant I was no longer eligible for witness protection. Which meant I was free to come and go as I pleased. However, it also meant if the scumbag drug dealers on Maui hadn’t gotten the memo, there was probably still a price on my head.

  “You’re welcome to stay here tonight in a holding cell,” he said. “But, as you pointed out, the accommodations are barely adequate.”

  I didn’t want to impose on Auntie Cora again, especially since now I was truly a safety risk. But I also didn’t want to spend my last night on Lana’i on a two-inch mattress in a tiny outbuilding with a dog run for an exercise yard.

  “Or,” said Wong. “You could come up to the hotel with me. I’m sure I can get the department to approve an additional room for just one night.”

  “Mahalo, detective. I’d really appreciat
e that. I’ll reimburse you when we get back home.”

  He shot me a thin smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Wong said we’d have to walk to the hotel since all the cop cars were still up at the Lodge.

  “Have they found anything?” I said as we started out. “You mentioned something about additional evidence?”

  Wong looked at me and shook his head. “You never stop, do you? Why’d you leave your job at Homeland Security? Seems someone as unrelenting as you would’ve risen right up the ranks.”

  “Well, Detective Wong, as I’m sure you know, things aren’t always what they seem.”

  ***

  We checked in and I went down the hall to my small guestroom at the back of the building. The bedroom window looked out on a wide sloping lawn and an enormous Cook pine. After a month of smelling the tang of pine every day I was getting used to it. Maybe in future holiday seasons I’d remember my time on Lana’i and I’d wax nostalgic about the scent of Christmas trees in the air. Or maybe not.

  I got into bed but I couldn’t sleep. I was finally going home. Home to my little clapboard house in Hali’imaile, my newly-refurbished wedding shop in Pa’ia, and the kung fu gym where I’d work out nearly every day. After over a month I’d be reunited with my friends. For me, my friends were my ohana—my family. The only “real” family I had was my half-brother, and I hadn’t laid eyes on him for more than two years.

  I pictured each of my friends’ faces. My gay roommate, Steve; my ‘cake lady’ Keahou; and my kung fu instructor, Sifu Doug. I thought of Ono Kingston, sleeping on his boat down in Lahaina Harbor.

  But try as I might, I couldn’t get to sleep. Maybe it was because I was trying to pull a fast one on myself. Maybe it was because as much as I loved all the people I’d pictured, there were two faces I kept pushing away—my boyfriend, Hatch, and my best friend, Farrah.

  ***

  On Sunday, I awoke at six and hopped out of bed. I went straight into the shower. I put the few belongings I’d brought with me into my beach bag purse and went out to the lobby to find Detective Wong.