by Jane Preston
Again, Maureen found herself impressed with the warmth and sincerity of the woman’s broad smile. People here are certainly open and friendly, she thought, recalling how a few strangers in one of the long lines she’d waited in today as a tourist saw nothing wrong with striking up an animated conversation with each other.
You’d have thought they were long-lost friends.
Maureen didn’t have to think twice before accepting the lovely invitation. Not being the most enthusiastic of cooks, she looked forward to sharing a few laughs and a homemade dinner with a couple of neighborly folks.
“That would be wonderful! May I bring something?”
“Just yourself. We’re having Pina Coladas and Pineapple Chicken with Jasmine Rice.”
“Sounds delicious. Thanks, Mary. I’ll see you and Bob in an hour.”
Maureen was cheerily singing to herself as, gliding into the master bedroom, she approached the spacious, walk-in closet to pick out something to wear for her very first dinner invitation in Hawaii. Should I go casual or exotic? Mary was dressed casually, but with a touch of classy island elegance.
Twenty-five minutes later, after selecting a pair of crocheted, high-heeled white sandals to complete the look of her fitted, black, scoop-necked silk top, featuring splashes of wild flower patterns edged in white and filled in with vivid yellow, over a long, sleek black skirt, Maureen considered her reflection in the full-length mirror.
I look like a native, she decided, and breezed out of the bedroom into the kitchen to quickly fix herself a nice green tea – Hawaiian-style, over ice, with a stalk of fresh golden pineapple - before leaving to walk to the Bly’s.
***
“This just in, Captain,” Billings said as he laid the hastily-scribbled notes on Lewis’s crowded desk. “One of the administrative officials at the Lakeview Mental Health Facility in Emerald Heights called. He read today’s news story and claims Sylvester Wilde has been a long-time, minimum security in-patient of theirs.”
“Go on.” Lewis sat down slowly to take in the startling bulletin, delivered in Billings’ characteristic even-toned, low-key voice. Lewis had rarely seen Billings excited about anything, even when the two of them had been in the gravest of danger.
Billings continued. “Apparently, Joel Gold says Wilde slipped away from a group leader while out with other patients on a field trip a few days ago. According to Gold, he’s a quiet, benign sort of fellow, with a history of depression but also exemplary obedience.” Billings shrugged. “They think he just got confused and wandered away. They’d been trying to locate him at the homes of family members, two of whom are still on vacation.”
“What about the house-sitter who spotted Wilde on the beach near where Lucy Troppe’s body was found?”
“I mentioned that, Captain. Gold said Wilde’s been to that beach before. In fact, he’s asked to be dropped off at the Clark hotel there to have lunch. He’d been no trouble in the past so the staff complied.”
Here, Billings paused meaningfully, zeroing in on Lewis’s intense expression. “But get this. Wilde was officially checked back in at the mental health center and in his room by 8:05 p.m. on the night of Lucy Troppe’s murder. The front desk confirms this.” Billings took a deep breath and went on. “Captain, he couldn’t have killed her if the coroner’s right about the time of death.”
“Oh, he’s right, all right. James Black is one of the best in the nation.” Lewis cocked his head as he turned to stare unseeingly out the window of his office, absentmindedly tapping a pencil on his chin. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check with Black. I’m no authority on homicides that involve a dip in the drink. The salt water could make things tricky.”
Lewis scratched his head, and then stood up.
“We probably still have our man. But, Billings, get Black on the phone as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir.”
***
Sterling’s heart beat with sweet anticipation. His travel agent had been notified and was busy lining up the earliest possible date for him to leave for Hawaii, provided that Sterling could tie up a couple of loose ends in the next few days, like making certain Candace kept her mouth shut while he was gone.
Money was no problem. He’d go first-class all the way. In fact, he’d already decided to stay at the five-star Sheraton Waikiki Hotel, at least until he made his first connection with Maureen on the island.
She’d be impressed that he was obviously trying not to crowd her by booking a room in Honolulu.
Visions of the hard-to-win Maureen Beckley, and the way she looked in her one-piece scarlet suit that hugged her every dimension, danced in his head.
Sterling Matthews had been to Hawaii many times before.
But this time, he knew, would be unforgettable.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The gentle strains of the background Polynesian music soothed Maureen’s spirits as she graciously accepted a tall, cold Pina Colada, topped with a maraschino cherry and a small yellow paper umbrella. The haunting essence of Hawaii was doing its native magic on her; the palm trees on the beach moved in unison, bidden by a kindly breeze, while the sun began its unhurried descent low in the western skies.
Here and there, brightly-colored birds cried out with what sounded to Maureen’s ears like joy; everything seemed to be joyful here, she thought, as, contented, she sipped slowly on her island cocktail, savoring the tropical classic flavors of rum, coconut milk and pineapple juice.
She was caught up in a spell, with absolutely no desire to ever leave this slice of heaven.
Mary and Bob Bly were the quintessential host and hostess, eager to see that she was enjoying her drink and the Hawaiian puu-puus of Taro chips, Papaya-Mango Salsa and Grilled Ahi Tuna before dinner was served. Two couples had also been invited to the occasion and Maureen was already exchanging pleasantries and laughter with them.
But it was the man, soft-spoken and very attractive, arriving 15 minutes after the other guests, who caught her eye. Introduced as an architect who lives in Southern California, Jim Coleman took on added appeal for her. He looked to be in his mid-thirties and genuinely nice as he shook her hand in a firm but friendly way.
If only I could find a nice guy, she thought plaintively, her voice getting momentarily caught in her throat during the brief introduction. “I’m also from there. What part?”
And thus began their first conversation. Maureen found herself liking this man more as the nighttime grew near, gravitating to his calm, assured – but not cocky – voice and unassuming looks from his crystal clear green eyes. He seemed honestly interested in her life as a novelist, politely asking all of the pertinent questions. She especially appreciated that Jim Coleman never once came on to her, like other men she’d met.
By the time dinner was served, Maureen was fully engaged. During their one-on-one conversation, Jim Coleman had mentioned he was a divorcee of four years with an adorable son of eight who visited him every other weekend. They were buddies and she liked that: this man is a good, loving father.
Another brownie point for Jim, she thought, as she easily agreed to a second Pina Colada and another helping of the most delicious chicken she had ever tasted in her entire life.
***
It wasn’t until Maureen was safely escorted home by the gentlemanly Jim Coleman that she realized she hadn’t conversed much with her host and hostess. I’ll make up for it, she told herself, silently promising to call or stop by in the next couple of days to thank them for the lovely dinner, but also to invite them to spend more time with her.
Mary Bly had mentioned that they would be leaving their beachfront rental and heading back home to Michigan in a little more than two weeks, which easily allowed for at least one more get-together.
After Jim made his courteous departure, Maureen kicked off her high-heeled sandals and went into the kitchen to fix a quick cup of hot tea before heading off to bed. The tropical winds outside lulled her senses and made her feel warm and cozy. It was going to be an
other exquisite night in Hawaii, where she would hear the constant and comforting sounds of the ocean waves right outside her partially-opened bedroom windows on the second floor.
Maureen felt perfectly safe in this upper-class neighborhood as she padded silently across the Tahitian-patterned tile floor with its handmade straw mats to fetch the ubiquitous tea kettle.
It would soon be time to return Mary and Bob Bly’s neighborly favor.
A half hour later, as she slid under the covers of her spacious, cool bed on that star-filled night, Maureen was certain that, in less than a week, she’d be the hostess of an unforgettable pool party at her lovely beach home, complete with Polynesian Barbeque, Tiki lanterns, table-top palm fronds and carved monkey tree pod serving platters.
The works.
And the kindly Jim Coleman would be invited.
***
The coroner was sticking by his original statement: Lucy Troppe had died somewhere between the hours of midnight and 3 a.m. And, like Billings, Capt. Lewis had received confirmation from the front desk, as well as two orderlies, that Sylvester Wilde had been in his room by 8:05 p.m. that same night.
Was there any chance Wilde could have slipped out in the early morning hours to commit the murder? the police officers asked. No, the facility's officials answered, explaining that all windows and doors are routinely secured throughout the night once the residents are checked in.
All of which meant the killer was still free as a bird. With nothing else to detain him, Wilde was slated to be returned to the mental health center.
Lewis’s thoughts immediately turned to the suave and debonair Sterling Matthews.
He was my first choice, Lewis thought. Something definitely unseemly about that guy. Now if we can just get the evidence we need, even if it's circumstantial. Convictions had been made on purely circumstantial evidence before.
As he stood up from his desk to put on his hard-earned, time-honored officer’s jacket, Lewis was reminded of his first and foremost commitment: To get, and keep, dangerous people off the streets. His track record as a venerated police officer had proven his noble devotion to that duty.
***
Standing in the check-out line at Barry’s Grocers, Sterling Matthews ticked off the final items on his shopping list: travel-size tooth paste and tooth brush; shaving cream; and a small bar of his favorite soap. He had everything he needed for his trip to Oahu. With his flight leaving at 7:25 a.m. the next morning, Sterling felt like he was walking on air.
Soon, he’d be flying in the air, free as a Bird of Paradise to pursue the woman of his dreams.
Just the thought of Maureen and his lustrous red hair gave him goose bumps. Had he ever met a woman quite like her before in his entire life? Apparently not, he thought with a silly, lopsided grin, or he would have been happily married by now.
He’d tried her on as his wife in his fantasies and she always rated a perfect score. In fact, the thought of living without this particularly elusive woman seemed unfathomable: he simply had to have Maureen Beckley as his own.
At that moment, his cell rang. Digging his phone out of his pants pocket, Sterling answered on the second ring.
“Hey, Dad, thanks for returning my call. Listen, I’m leaving for Hawaii tomorrow for a 10-day vacation. Sun, sand and surf. I really need the break.” Just then, Sterling realized how very tired he was; the persistent tension in his neck and shoulders had been relentlessly building for weeks.
“I hear you, Son. Sounds great. Where will you be staying?”
“The Sheraton Waikiki. Hey, why don’t you join me for a few days? You know, Mom could use a little down time. She wouldn’t have to fix your usual 'he-man' dinners.” Sterling laughed, thoroughly enjoying himself now that he was on his way. His troubles would soon be a distant memory.
“Believe me, Son, I would if I could. But the Bauler shipping contract, our biggest account, is being renegotiated and the boss wants me to cover all the marketing angles. You know me. If nothing else, I’m good at pitching.” Now the older man laughed.
“You’re good at everything, Dad. Always have been.”
“Thanks, Son. But, keep me posted on my cell. I plan to live vicariously while you sweat in the gorgeous Hawaiian sun, sipping on Mai Tai’s and watching the hula skirts sway.”
Sterling giggled loudly. “Ok, Dad. I’ll be in touch. Bye.” Every now and then, we actually get along, Sterling thought as he pocketed his cell. Too bad it’s not most of the time.
In far too great of a mood to have even a moment of his day ruined, Sterling softly whistled to himself as he reached the check-out counter. The female clerk, 20-something and platinum blonde, looked fetching, especially when she fastened her wide, cornflower blue eyes on him.
Sterling drew a deep breath and looked down. Not anymore, Sterling, Ol’ Buddy. You’re a one-man woman now.
In fact, Maureen Beckley has her name written all over you.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Sheraton Waikiki, with its majestic views of the turquoise and teal-green ocean, was even more visually stunning in real life than it was in the color-enhanced photos on its website. It was the first time Sterling Matthews had ever been to this resort and, already, he was impressed as his eyes scanned the gold-veined marble floors of the expansive lobby while he waited to be assisted during check-in.
Life is good, he thought, breathing deeply, taking in the fragrant smell of the clean, salty sea air. Already, he knew from experience that the waters lapping against the shores of Hawaii were temperate, like lukewarm bath water. Not like Southern California’s coast, where a dip in the chilly waves could literally take your breath away. His thoughts turned momentarily to the actors on Bay Watch, who had been so good at making their romps in the surf look easy - and warm.
Sterling grinned. Maureen is only a 30-mile drive away. Just the Pali Mountain Range stands between us now.
But first things first.
This habitual visitor to Hawaii had every intention of swimming in the two drop-dead gorgeous beachfront outdoor pools, one an infinity pool, surrounded by native rocks and mature palm trees, Sheraton Waikiki-style.
It was going to be sun, sand and surf for Sterling Matthews, as he’d told his father.
Enjoyed eventually, he heartily reassured himself, with the perk of Maureen Beckley’s unrivaled charms.
***
Back in his 420-square-foot bedroom at the Lakeview Mental Health Facility, Sylvester Wilde couldn’t help but grin. He strolled over to his bedroom window and looked out on the familiar terrain of the man-made lake and weeping willow trees, a soothing, artificially-constructed campus intended to keep wackos like him calm and in line.
All the women I've killed. And everyone still thinks I’m innocent.
He wondered what kinds of homes those women had grown up in. Had they been loved? Or had they experienced childhood the way he had - brutalized and resented?
Life had not been good to him, he reflected, as he practiced a few deep breathing exercises which he’d learned in the stress reduction class at the facility.
Of course, no one knew he'd been involved with those deaths. No one at all. He’d never bragged to a single, solitary soul how he'd literally gotten away with murder all these years.
Now, he was content to simply go on living in his own little world. Sylvester Wilde laughed quietly to himself, as his dancing eyes followed a red-breasted robin hopping from branch to branch, the little creature seemingly without a care.
He'd be out wandering around his favorite beach in no time.
I’m a psycho all right, he thought. But I’m a free psycho.
***
The day before throwing her first-ever pool party, Maureen was feeling a bit anxious. There were still a number of important things to do. Luckily, two days before, during a trip to Honolulu, the romance novelist had stopped in to an adorable tourist gift shop and purchased a hand-carved, pineapple-shaped Monkey pod wooden salad bowl, individual serving bowls, for
ks and spoons, condiment set trays, and snack bowls, topped off by leaf-shaped serving trays, platters and dishes.
At least the tables would look good. And authentic.
Now to choose the right table cloths and centerpiece adornments from the storage unit located in the basement. The owners of the house had thought of everything, right down to supplying the necessary and decorative items for a party. Clearly, they’d had experience with that sort of thing, unlike Maureen.
Admittedly not a genius in the kitchen, Maureen had wisely secured the services of a nearby, highly-recommended caterer to provide the other essentials: Beef Teriyaki, Hawaiian Chicken, Sweet and Sour Meatballs, Shrimp in Coconut Sauce, and Hawaiian-based seasonal vegetables.