I felt the tears sting. Was this what Casey wasn't telling me? And if so, why not?
Detective Ray looked down at me, putting his notebook back into his pocket.
"I'm looking at all possibilities at the moment, Samantha, but Casey Dalton is top of my list of suspects."
"Why? Why are you questioning him?"
"He's admitted to bad feelings between him and Ryan, giving him motive. We have witnesses to his hostility with Ryan the previous night in The Lava Pot, and he had opportunity. He also has a history of a GBH charge against him. We're still looking for the murder weapon, but when we find it, I'll be checking for his DNA."
"History of GBH charges?"
"Grievous bodily harm."
"I know what GBH is. I just don't understand how you can say Casey is guilty of it."
"I didn't say he was guilty of it. The victim withdrew the charge before it went to a court."
My mind was reeling. Detective Ray had to have the wrong person. Casey wouldn't hurt a soul. Depends what's pushing them. Casey's words swirled through my mind.
"Do you know what the murder weapon was?" I asked, nausea starting to mix with the anxiety.
"Not yet. The body is with the coroner, Aimi Yoshida. Once I get her report, I'll know a lot more than I do now. All I'm doing at the moment is gathering facts."
"Well, the facts are that Casey wasn't the only one in the forest. Casey said he saw Lori there. And what about the guy with the biceps?"
"Guy with biceps?"
"Yes! The man I saw in the bar the night before. I saw him again in the forest."
"What did he look like?" he asked, retrieving his notebook from his pocket.
I gave the detective a rundown of what the man looked like, including a description of his oversized biceps.
"I see. Why did you not mention him before?" He narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously.
"Because I forgot about him."
"Yes, well, Aloha Lagoon has a lot of visitors."
"But we weren't anywhere near Aloha Lagoon at the time we found Ryan. Surely that's not a coincidence?"
Detective Ray shifted from one sandal-clad foot to another. "Maybe not. If you see this man around again, please let me know." With that he once again closed his book and placed it in his pants pocket.
"What about the treasure? What if Ryan was killed for that?"
Detective Ray smiled. "I think the treasure is a myth, Samantha."
"But…but Ryan had the journal stating where it was. What if someone knew he had it? I mean, he was pretty up front to us about it. He could have told the wrong person, and they killed him for it."
"What journal?"
"It was the ship captain's journal, telling where the treasure was buried. Ryan told us about it in The Lava Pot."
As I spoke, Detective Ray's phone rang in his shirt pocket. He retrieved it impatiently, held his finger up to me directing me to hold that thought, and stepped away, answering it as he moved.
I wasn't sure if he believed my theory or not, but I needed to get his search away from Casey. Sure Casey hadn't told me about a woman or the GBH charge, but he must have had his reasons. And even though Casey hadn't been in my life all that long, I knew he wasn't capable of murder. Casey was kind, considerate, and caring. Detective Ray just had it wrong.
Caught up in my thoughts of Casey, I almost didn't notice that Detective Ray's face was getting redder the longer his phone call continued.
"Of course I need to speak to the British police," he said, sounding very frustrated, "but he'll just have to wait…now?…well I'm about to conduct a search of the deceased's hotel room…okay! I'll come back to the station. Take his number, and I'll call him back…no I can't call him from my cell. The information I need is sitting on my desk." With that, he finished his call. Turning to me, he didn't look happy.
"Duty calls so…Aloha, Samantha."
CHAPTER FIVE
I thought about why Ryan had come to Aloha Lagoon and about who knew the reason he was here. My bet was that his death was connected to the treasure, which meant I needed to see that journal before Detective Ray. Once he had his hands on it, I would never know what secrets it held. It sounded like Ryan's room hadn't been searched yet, so maybe the journal would still be accessible. True, Detective Ray thought the treasure was a myth, and I didn't know whether he was correct or not. But if I could see the journal, then maybe I could do some more research into it and find out if Ryan's death was connected to it or not. I also needed to know more about Ryan. Detective Ray was very good at his job, but he worked on island time, and I didn't like how he was looking at Casey in regard to murder.
I didn't have another surf lesson until after lunch, so I had quite a bit of time up my sleeve. I made a plan. Probably not a great plan, but it was a plan. I wrote a gift certificate addressed to Ryan, slipped my work polo and shorts over my swimsuit, flipped my sunglasses down over my eyes, pulled my hair under a cap, and made my way towards Ryan's room, number 1207—I'd remembered him telling it to Casey that night in the bar.
I walked passed the Loco Moco Café and across the grounds towards my destination. The outside of the resort was just as beautiful as the inside. It was large, lush, and defined luxury. But I didn't stop to admire any of it. My time was limited, and I was hoping I could get in and out of that room before my next lesson and definitely before Detective Ray came to search it. I also hoped I could find what I was looking for.
All of the rooms in this part of the resort opened to the outside, so I smiled at the guests I passed, hoping to look unsuspicious. The reality was my heart was pounding and I was sweating from nervous tension, but they all seemed so preoccupied with their vacation that they paid me no attention whatsoever.
Rounding the corner, my eyes scanned the room numbers as I went. They stopped on 1207. I looked around for a housekeeping trolley, hoping housekeeping had been instructed to stay out of Ryan's room. Thankfully I found one a few passages away.
"Hi ladies," I called, making a big deal out of my resort uniform while simultaneously making sure my name badge was covered. "I was wondering if I could ask a big favor." I asked as I stepped into the room they were presently working in.
The younger of the two stopped polishing and looked at me, the sound of the vacuum drowning out most of what I was trying to say.
"What can I do for you?" she asked me. Her name badge said Nora. She looked about eighteen, had light brown hair tied into a neat bun, and had a slight sheen to her skin from the effort of the polishing.
"I was hoping you could let me into a room. I just need to leave a gift certificate for one of the guests," I explained, once again going for a look of innocence.
"Push it under the door, and I'll deal with it when we get in there."
Bugger.
"Well the thing is, the guest is a friend of mine, and I wanted to leave a message with it."
She didn't look convinced. The Aloha Lagoon Resort took the security of their guests seriously.
"Nora!" yelled the older lady, turning off the vacuum.
I'd seen her note my uniform. If I'd have been a guest, she wouldn't have spoken to Nora in the tone that she did. The staff were well trained in how to behave in front of guests.
"You need to keep moving. We have a lot of rooms to get through. There's no time for chatting."
Nora blushed. "I wasn't chatting!"
"Well whatever you call it, stop. You need to get that bathroom cleaned. We have to get on to the next room."
Nora checked her watch as her co-worker glared at her.
"Please," I said to her. "I'll be quick."
Her eyes darted from her co-worker to me. Thankfully Mrs. Bossy Boots had continued with her work and had stopped watching us.
"If I can just borrow the master key, I'll return it almost immediately," I pleaded, waving my gift certificate around for good measure.
Nora's eyes darted between mine and my uniform. I think she was assessing if I was trustworthy or not
.
"Fine. But you'd better not be long! I don't want to be in trouble for this."
"You won't be. No one will know you loaned it to me." I accepted the key she pulled from a fob attached to her uniform. "Thanks," I said before sprinting back to Ryan's room.
Swiping the key, the door opened. It was dark in the room, so I ran to the blinds and opened them just enough to let some light in. I then found one of Ryan's shoes, pushed it into the door jam to keep the door open, shoved the gift certificate into my back pocket, and ran to Nora, thanking her profusely.
I checked the corridor before once again entering Ryan's room, kicked the shoe out of the door, and entered, closing the door behind me.
I thought my heart rate would have slowed once I was safely on the inside, but it didn't. It just picked up intensity. If I got caught in here, I'd lose my job. Well in that case, I'd better make it quick.
From my position behind the entrance door, I could see the room was neatly made up from the day before, the bed made, the towels rolled perfectly and placed on the granite bathroom countertop. The walk-in wardrobe held empty hangers, so Ryan hadn't unpacked. Except a small suitcase sitting tidily on the luggage rack, the only personal possessions I could see were a pair of jeans slung over a chair and a half-empty bottle of scotch. Moving rapidly to the suitcase, I slipped off my shirt to use over my hands. I didn't want my fingerprints to be found anywhere in this room. Which reminded me that I needed to wipe the door handle on the way out.
Carefully searching the contents, I looked for the journal, my eyes alert for anything else that could be useful. The only thing I learned though was that Ryan went commando. There was not a single piece of underwear in sight.
But the clock was ticking, and I knew I didn't have a lot of time, so I moved to the bedside tables, opening the drawers, wondering if he had placed the journal in there. But the drawers were empty. I straightened up and thought of where I would have left it if I were Ryan. The safe sprung to mind.
It was located inside the walk-in robe on the second shelf, and just as I had thought it would be, it was locked. Thankfully a quick YouTube search gave me 70,100 options on how to open it. It was easy. So easy, in fact, I was never going to trust a hotel safe again.
I followed the instructions, and my heart skipped several beats as I pulled the door open and saw an old leather-bound book, gold scrolled writing across the front cover: Captain James Carnavon III. I was about to grab the journal when I heard sounds at the door.
I needed to get out of there. Quickly! Quietly sliding the safe door closed, I looked at the windows, wondering if I could get out that way. As it overlooked the pool, I didn't think I would be able to without anyone noticing. My eyes scanned the room once more, only this time searching for a place to hide.
I pulled the skirt up from around the bed and noticed it was an ensemble. Not enough room to hide under there. The wardrobe was my next choice, but as it was a walk-in, it held nowhere to hide either.
The sound of a card being inserted into the door mechanism filled the air and caused my panic to go on an upward spiral.
I ran into the bathroom, hoping there was somewhere that could hide a twenty-eight-year-old surfing instructor.
The resort bathrooms were divine. The counters were granite, the towels were plush, and the toiletries were worth stealing. Not that I would steal them of course, but they would be worth it if I did.
The door to the room jiggled. My heart literally stopped for a few seconds as I wildly looked around me, wondering what to do. A tall, thin cupboard behind the bathroom door came into view. Typically the cupboard held spare towels, an ironing board, iron, etc. I pulled the handle on the cupboard door, squeezing myself inside of it. I said a quick prayer it wasn't housekeeping, because if it was, I was never going to be able to explain myself out of this one.
My blood pressure pounded in my ears, and I held my breath, needing to be as quiet as possible. I waited for the voices of Nora and her co-worker to fill the air. Instead, all I heard was the muffled sound of footsteps as the room door was closed quietly. The bathroom was pretty soundproof, and whoever was there made their way further into the room. I closed my eyes and strained my hearing. It felt like an eternity, my legs cramping from the awkward position I was squatting in, but finally I heard the room door open and then quietly close again. I counted to a hundred, straining for any more noises to indicate that whoever was in the room was still there. Silence rang back at me.
I let out the breath I'd been holding, my nerves jittery and my breathing ragged, praying that I wasn't about to come face-to-face with Detective Ray standing in the bathroom waiting for me. Even though, if it had been Detective Ray, surely he wouldn't have been that quiet or quick. He would have searched the room much more thoroughly than whoever had been there did.
Pushing gently on the inside of the cupboard door, I slowly stuck my head out, my senses on full alert. Once I was satisfied I was alone, I made sure my finger prints were wiped from every surface. I gave one last scan of the room. It was only as my eyes landed on the open safe that I realized the journal was no longer there. Damn!
But I couldn't dwell on it. As voices passed outside, I slipped my shirt back over my head and waited until I could hear nothing but silence. I then got the heck out of there.
I had my head down and was in such a hurry to distance myself from that room that I didn't even see the man striding down the passageway towards me. I squealed as I bumped into him.
"I'm sorry," I spluttered. "I'm so sorry." Other than noting his blond hair and beer gut, I didn't pay him much attention. I just forced my eyes to look at the floor and picked up my pace. It was only after I was a good few hundred meters away from room 1207 that I dared to even breathe again.
* * *
I still had an hour before my lesson started, so I took some time to clean up the surfboard shed. It allowed my blood pressure to drop back to normal and the nausea I'd been feeling since my B&E to settle. Breaking into that room was so unlike me. It wasn't something I had ever done before, and judging by the shaking I still had in my legs, it wasn't going to be anything I would ever do again. I needed to just leave all of this to the police. I was sure they would find who was responsible for Ryan's death, and they would find it wasn't Casey. I was sure of it. So what was with the anxiety gnawing its way through my stomach lining?
This morning, head surfing instructor Brad had a private lesson booked, and he must have been running late, as he'd left quite a few things just lying around from his earlier lesson. I found peace in placing the boards in the racks against the far wall, putting the board wax away, and hanging the wet towels over the handrail. I was just closing the door behind me when Brad walked up.
"Sam," he called, grabbing my attention.
Brad's gym-toned abs glistened in the Hawaiian sun, and water dripped from his dirty blond hair as he shook his head. He held a board under his arm, and I guessed his lesson had been held on the other side of the lagoon where the open water gave a much bigger swell.
"Hey, Brad. What's up?" I asked. I didn't really want a conversation with him at that moment. My mind was still stuck on what the detective had been saying about Casey and on my total ineptitude when it came to being a sleuth.
"Did Juls talk to you about the extra lesson I've thrown at you?"
"No. What extra lesson?"
Brad sauntered closer. He was good-looking with the style of a seasoned surfer, and he knew it. Ego oozed out of his every movement.
"One of the guys I've been teaching asked me to teach his kid. The kid's a brat, so I sent him your way," he said, getting the conversation back on track.
"Geez, thanks."
"It's cool. You know I'm happy to share anything with you, Sam." He smiled, and his pearly white teeth nearly blinded me. "Just say the word."
Brad was always offering to give me anything I wanted, and I knew exactly what he meant by that.
"Thanks," I said, ignoring his innuendo. "I'll f
ind Juls and ask her about it."
He shrugged. "Sure. Whatever. You know where to find me if you need me." He flashed me with his smile once more as I walked away.
I figured now was as good a time as any to ask about the extra lesson, and I still had time up my sleeve. Plus a walk might just calm my nerves just that little bit more, so instead of phoning her, I headed towards Juls Kekoa's office, hoping that today she'd actually be there instead of running around the resort attending to the many things on her to-do spreadsheet.
This time as I walked around the resort, I actually took notice of it. It was a beautiful place. The size and luxury of it should have made it feel unfriendly, but it didn't. The color of the terra-cotta roofs and the aqua blue of the swimming pools reflected on the rendered cream walls gave it a feeling of peace and tranquility. Add to that the stunning ocean and lush green backdrop, and the resort was like no other place I had ever seen. I took a deep, calming breath, letting go of this morning's tension.
I reached Juls' office and found the door closed. I gently knocked. No answer. I knocked again. As I waited, I looked down the Ramada Pier and made a note to attend the Ohana Luau one evening. I'd been told the soft music of Nani's ukulele and the Aloha Lagoon Ahi Fire Dancers were amazing, and a luau was still number one on my list of Hawaiian things to do. I was embarrassed to say I hadn't attended one yet, but I needed to change that ASAP. In fact, I'd talk to Casey about it and grab some tickets for us both to attend.
Juls still hadn't opened her door, so I moved to the window that overlooked the walkway and peered inside. I could see the basket-style chairs neatly placed in front of her glass-topped desk and her laptop closed on top of it. I knew it wasn't her day off, so I figured she must have been busy elsewhere around the resort. I'd just have to keep my eyes open looking for her or come back before I finished work for the day.
I gave up and made my way back to The Lava Pot, taking the most scenic route past the fishpond where Harold the Turtle lived. Harold had been named by resort guests. I think at first it was just a fun nickname they gave him, but the name stuck and had since become official. He even had a nameplate screwed to a rock on the front of the pond to prove it.
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