Moonlight Cocktail

by William Cassidy

  “But what’s the connection with Kulani?”

  “Maybe he was at the cast party and suspected that Kulani saw him, maybe even saw him do something suspicious. If so, Kulani could bring him to the attention of the police. So why not eliminate the bartender, the one person who had a view of all the people at the party and the one person who could have seen him slip poison into a drink that was bound for Derek Reynolds?”

  “I see. But what’s his motive?”

  “I don’t know, but that photograph suggests he’s got some kind of relationship with Derek’s wife. And there’s one other thing.”

  “What?”

  “The guy smokes.”

  “And you found a Camel under the ‘Akia bush out in Kailua.”

  “Yep, and Dave McNeil found one in the ashtray of the Ford Taurus that Reynolds’ production company rented, the one that ran Kulani off the road in Kailua.”

  “Does anybody else in this group you’ve assembled smoke Camels?”

  “I didn’t see any ashtrays at the Lanes’ house, but George Lane’s right hand is covered with tobacco stains. Unfortunately, I didn’t see what kind of cigarette he smokes. But his house is not far from Kailua.”

  “I doubt that he’d steal a car from Reynolds’ production company, Jack.”

  “I agree, but he could have been careless and left a cigarette butt on the field out in Kailua.”

  “But he would have gone there only if the ‘Akia that grows in their garden is the non-poisonous kind and he had to go out there to get the high test stuff.”

  “Or if they didn’t have enough of the strong stuff in their garden to produce sufficient poison.”

  “Jack, you don’t think they’d use ‘Akia from their own garden, do you? That would be too obvious and incriminating.”

  “I would agree with you, Katherine, except for that empty patch of freshly turned soil I saw next to their ‘Akia bushes. And they’d sure know where to get the high-test variety because they know everything there is to know about Hawaiian plants. Plus, George was out at a nursery yesterday afternoon when I arrived at the Lane’s for lunch, buying a new shrub, probably to cover that empty patch of soil next to the ‘Akia bush.”

  “One more question, Jack. Does Jennifer smoke Camels?”

  Smiling, Jack replied, “I don’t even know if she smokes cigarettes, but I’d like to find out.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  Jack arrived at Police Headquarters in downtown Honolulu at one-fifteen and was standing outside Dave McNeil’s door two minutes later.

  “Come on in, Jack”, Dave said while holding his hand over the phone. “I’m just finishing a call. Grab some of Honolulu’s finest supermarket coffee. It’s only been brewing since seven this morning.”

  Jack smiled and passed up the opportunity to test the dark and ever-thickening liquid from Dave’s electric drip coffee maker. Dave nodded his head as he said ‘yes’ into the phone twice before hanging up.

  “That was Derek Reynolds’ executive vice president, who accompanied Mrs. Reynolds to Honolulu. They’ve arrived at their hotel, the Oriental, and will be attending a memorial service there for Derek early this evening. It looks like I don’t have much time to gather my troops for an interview with her.”

  “Is this the first time you’ve had an opportunity to talk to Mrs. Reynolds?”

  “I spoke with her on the phone early Tuesday morning but she was a bit upset and not in a frame of mind to talk to me or anyone else from the Police Department.”

  “And, of course, you didn’t know then what you know now.”

  “No, we didn’t. And by that look on your face and the tone of your voice, you’re about to tell me more that I don’t know.”

  “I am.”

  Jack summarized everything he had learned during the past twenty-four hours about Jennifer’s interest in Hawaiian plants, the Lanes’ gardens, Derek’s philandering, Loretta’s response, the two screenplays set in Hawaii, the use of ‘Akia as a poison in one of the screenplays, and the man in the Hollywood party photograph with Loretta. Dave listened attentively and asked to see the In Style magazine.

  “I see what you mean about this guy in the photograph. He does fit the description Kulani gave us of the driver of the car that ran him off the road. And it does look like he’s a smoker.”

  “He probably also knows Loretta Reynolds, Dave.”

  “The question, Jack, is how well he knows her. She seems quite unlike someone who would direct the murder of her husband.”

  “How’s your crime scene search team coming with their analysis of the Ford Taurus? Have they found any fingerprints they can identify?”

  “They were able to lift several discrete sets of prints, Jack, but they haven’t been able to identify all of the hands that belong to them. Some were obviously left by employees of the car rental company and those we have identified. Others we simply haven’t been able to match with any prints in the national data base.”

  “How about the cigarette butts? Is there enough DNA on them to identify the smoker?”

  “Yes, but as I thought, we don’t have any DNA characteristics in the national data base that match the DNA we got from the cigarette butts. So we’re in the same boat that we are with the fingerprints we lifted from the Taurus.”

  “I guess what you need is a suspect whose fingerprints you can compare with the prints from the car and who can give you some saliva to compare with what you’ve got on the cigarette butts.”

  “That would do it, Jack. And with all due respect for the fine work you’ve done to date, I’m not sure we’ve got a case right now against any of the suspects you’ve identified.”

  “I agree, but I’ve got an idea.”

  “Shoot.”

  “I’m going to do a little prospecting, for suspects rather than gold.”

  “I don’t want you putting yourself in harm’s way, old buddy. That’s my job. That’s why I get paid the big bucks.”

  “I hear you. The only harm that can come my way is the threat of a defamation suit, and I know how to avoid that.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m going to attend the memorial service at the Oriental, and I’d like you to have a few of Honolulu’s finest there, in plain clothes of course, but ready to act if I give you what I think I’ll be able to.”

  “Jack, this isn’t a television series. If there’s a murderer at this service, he may decide that you’re an inconvenience he can do without.”

  “Or she. Or he and she.”

  “Yes, depending upon which of your suspects gets the most agitated with your accusation.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to accuse anyone. I’m just going to have a few conversations.”

  “And then?”

  “We’re going to honor the memory of Derek Reynolds and see what happens.”

  “Okay. I’ll go with you on this one, because of your instincts as much as your evidence. And I’ll have some officers stationed inside and outside the Oriental. We’ll just characterize it as security to keep the public from interfering and making a spectacle of the memorial service.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Jack, do you mind my asking what the hell kind of conversations you’re going to have with these people?”

  “They’re going to be very social, Dave. That’s the kind of guy I am.”

  “Do you plan to record them?”

  “No, I don’t think that will be necessary. But I would ask you to have a crime scene lab technician remain on duty tonight. I may have some work for him.”

  “Okay.”

  “And one other thing, Dave. I know you’ll do this, but would you be sure to explore this screenplay issue with Mrs. Reynolds, if you can do it without jeopardizing the rest of your investigation?”

  “I will. I’m as curious as you are to see her reaction to the news that her husband died of acute poisoning from an ‘Akia plant.”

  “That will tell us a lot, Dave.”

 
; “That it will. Now, I’ve got to organize my troops for that interview. I’ll see you at five-thirty at the Oriental.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Jack left Police Headquarters at two-thirty for the Diamond Head Canoe Club. Along the way, he called Katherine, told her he would be attending the memorial service for Derek, and that he needed her magazine a little longer. He also left a voicemail message for Arthur, letting him know the exact time and place of the service. Jack had decided that Gordon Grant was right. He needed some time with Neptune to clear his head and prepare for the unusual Sunday evening that lay ahead. As Jack drove toward Kalakaua Avenue, his cell phone rang and a familiar voice greeted him when he answered his phone.

  “Jack, this is Maile.”

  “Maile, how are you? Have I forgotten to return a book to the Bishop Museum’s library on time?”

  “No,” Maile said laughing.

  “Thank God. I was afraid the library police would be knocking on my door.”

  “No, Jack, you’re one of the most trustworthy users of our resources. But I am calling you about your research, sort of.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you remember when you asked me about the procedures for logging visitors in and out of the library?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I checked, and we do have fairly strict procedures for using the library.”

  “Good. That protects the Museum.”

  “There’s just one problem, Jack.”

  “What’s that?”

  “While we require everyone to log in, it seems that someone logged in recently and wrote a name that is illegible. We’re not sure who it is.”

  “Are any books missing?”

  “No, but there is something I thought you should know.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I checked with the librarian who was on duty at the desk those days, and she remembered a man asking where the books on Hawaiian plants and traditions were located, just like you did. So I thought you’d want to know that someone else was recently interested in these subjects. I just had a feeling it was important to you.”

  “It is, Maile. Does the librarian remember what the man looked like?”

  “I didn’t ask her, Jack. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s all right. Maybe I’ll drop by and talk to her.”

  “She’ll be at the library tomorrow morning. And, by the way, Papa David called me and wanted your phone number so I gave it to him. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not, when did he call?”

  “Just before I called you, so I better hang up. He may be trying to reach you.”

  “Okay, Maile. Thanks for calling.”

  Just as Jack reached the Diamond Head Canoe Club, his cell phone rang again.

  “Jack, this is Papa David.”

  “Good afternoon sir, how are you?”

  “I’m fine, Jack, and I have some information for you that may be important.”

  “What is it?”

  “I had lunch today with another practitioner of herbal medicine, and we got talking about the recent spate of poisonings from the Angel’s Trumpet flower and Oleander, and he told me the strangest story.”

  “I think I know what’s coming. Go ahead.”

  “About recently, he received a telephone call from a man who wanted to come in to see him but first wanted to know what herbal medicine could do for his ailment, which he described as arthritis. And in the course of discussing his condition with my colleague, he began to talk about plants that were used in ancient Hawaiian rituals, and one he brought up was ‘Akia. My colleague was quite surprised, because ‘Akia is not a plant that herbal medicine professionals would use to treat any medical condition, much less arthritis.”

  “Did he ask where he could find ‘Akia.”

  “Yes, and my colleague told him to be careful not to use the poisonous kind for any purpose.”

  “Did your colleague also tell him where the poisonous kind grows, so that he could avoid contact with it?”

  “He did. He told him about the field that you and I visited.”

  “Would I be presumptuous, Papa David, if I concluded that this caller never actually visited your colleague for treatment?”

  “Jack, he never heard from the man again.”

  “I’m not surprised. Thank you, Papa David. That is very helpful.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The Pacific surf was barely breaking on the reef when Jack cruised through its narrow opening on his outrigger canoe. As soon as he cleared the reef, he pressed the right foot pedal and turned the boat toward the Waikiki hotels. He took long and smooth strokes with the black carbon fiber paddle that propelled the white hull through the blue water swiftly enough to throw an aquamarine bow wave forward and leave a gurgling white wake behind.

  Jack increased the rate of his strokes and began to plan the conversations he would have at the memorial service for Derek Reynolds. As he had done in preparation for so many trials, Jack catalogued those he would have conversations with, then settled on the substance of each conversation, and finally determined the order in which he would have those conversations. He was confident that he would have enough information when he finished to convince Dave.

  The Oriental was only ten minutes from the Diamond Head Canoe Club, but Jack knew he could not take any chance that he would be late. He paddled hard for fifteen minutes, until he was just past the Natatorium, then turned his canoe back toward the jetty that marked one end of the Club’s beach. The Pacific remained calm this Sunday afternoon and, fifteen minutes later, Jack was passing through the opening in the reef, riding the crest of a gentle wave that carried him to the beach.

  After a quick shower, Jack stopped in to see the Club manager, Noa Watson, and the two of them walked to the bar to talk to Kulani.

  “Kulani, I think I know where we can find the guy who ran you off the road,” Jack said, “but I need your help to tell me whether or not you see him when I take you where I think he might be.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Our distinguished Club Manager has graciously agreed to take over the bar for a couple of hours while you and I go on a little expedition where we just might spot the bird that tried to do you in.”

  Kulani looked at Noa, who nodded his assent and broke into a broad grin.

  “Kulani, you could perform no higher service for the Club than to help identify the criminal who tried to run Honolulu’s best bartender off the road.”

  “Thank you, Noa. I will do my best.”

  Jack thanked Noa for his indulgence and left the Club with Kulani at his side.

  “What do you want me to do, Mr. Sullivan?” Kulani asked as the Jeep wound its way along Diamond Head Road, around the base of the Diamond Head crater, toward the Oriental Hotel.

  “I want you to stay with the car in front of the hotel until I come to get you. Then I want you to come into the hotel with me and tell me if you see the guy who ran you off the road.”

  Jack reached the semi-circular driveway in front of the Oriental Hotel ten minutes later and noticed two very plain white sedans parked at the edge of the circle. Shaking his head and laughing quietly to himself, Jack recalled his days as a prosecutor and images of the markedly bland sedans that metropolitan police departments regularly employ as “unmarked” police cars. As he approached the hotel’s entrance, Jack also noticed four uniformed members of the Honolulu Police Department standing beside two clearly marked police cruisers. Dave had covered the hotel with his troops just as Jack had asked, but Dave was nowhere to be seen.

  The Oriental Hotel was very elegant. Jack thought it had a New York feel about it. He was not surprised that many cast members and Derek Reynolds, as well as other executives of his production company, had chosen the Oriental as their residence for the duration of filming on Oahu. As the many photographs of movie stars on its lobby wall attested, the Oriental was a favorite of the Hollywood set.

  T
he hotel’s ballrooms were located one level below the lobby, and Jack could hear the low buzz of muffled conversations as soon as he reached the staircase that led down to the Wailae Room. The only security at its entrance was an attractive public relations representative who smiled at everyone who entered the room.

  The Wailae Room’s rear wall was composed of black volcanic rock. Heavy glass chandeliers surrounded by green metallic maile leaves hung from recessed squares in the ceiling. A mahogany bar occupied the right rear corner of the room, and an elevated stage with a podium was on the left side of the room. The chandeliers cast a warm glow on the turquoise and brown carpet below.

  Jack estimated that there were about a hundred and fifty people in the room, most of whom he did not recognize and thus categorized as members of the cast and employees of the production company. Gordon Grant was there, representing the Club. The Mayor of Honolulu was standing with the President of the Hawaii Chamber of Commerce. Arthur Fairbanks was engaged in animated conversation with the Lane’s. And Hypatia and Jennifer Adams were standing alone in a corner of the room. As soon as Gordon saw Jack, he made a beeline for him.

  “Man, am I glad to see you,” Gordon said with obvious relief. I was hoping you’d be here. I didn’t want to go through this without my lawyer.”

  “Can I bill you for this representation?”

  “Absolutely. You can charge me your full east coast rate too. Just don’t leave early or wander off where I can’t grab you.”

  “Don’t worry, Gordo. Nobody’s going to accuse the Club of anything.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I’m sure on this one. So just relax and enjoy the show. I’ll be back later.”

  Jack walked toward Hypatia and Jennifer and, as he approached, Hypatia greeted him.

  “Jack, we had such a wonderful visit with Katherine. Please tell her how much we love her things and can’t wait to have her design dresses for us. We’ll be sure to stop by again before we leave Honolulu.”

  “Thank you, Hypatia. I’ll do that, and I know she’ll be thrilled. By the way, she loved the plants and flowers you sent, Jennifer. They really improved the decor. I’m afraid that, for all of her other artistic talents, my wife’s thumb is not green.”