Honolulu Blues

by Larry Darter

  “The potential reward is tantalizing,” I said. “But, I’d have to have some time to consider your offer, before giving you my answer. Based on what you’ve told me this afternoon, I’m leaning towards the belief that my chances of winning the lottery might be greater than my chances of earning that reward. And, while working for you for two-hundred-seventy-five a day, I could miss out on as many as a half-dozen cases or more, cases where I’d be paid my usual rate.”

  “I do understand, Mr. Malone,” Wilkins said. “This assignment is not without its challenges. I could give you a few days to decide, but no more than that. There is a board meeting scheduled for next week, and I’m expected to inform the board that I’ve hired someone for the job. Not only that, but the reward offer expires in less than a month. The board has already told me there are no plans to renew the reward offer. Every day of delay makes it less certain you would have the chance at claiming the reward.”

  I drained the last of the beer from the bottle. “What the hell, Wilkins,” I said. “A dollar has always looked as big as a bed sheet to me. I’ll take the case for two-hundred-seventy-five dollars a day, plus expenses.”

  “Reasonable expenses,” Wilkins said.

  “I’m certain we can come to an equitable agreement on the definition of reasonable,” I said.

  “There is only one more question I need to ask,” Wilkins said. “The board will want to know the answer to it.”

  “What’s that?” I said. “If you’re going to ask how long it is going to take, I can’t answer that. Until I start, there is no way for me to even fully know what I’m up against.”

  “It isn’t that,” Wilkins said. “I expect it will simply take the time it takes. But, here is my question. If you begin this case, but haven’t found Murray and haven’t recovered the diamonds by the time the reward offer expires, can you be counted on to continue or will you quit?”

  “It not in my nature to quit once I’ve taken on a case,” I said. “If things get tough, I tend to become more persistent. If things go that way, even if the reward is forfeit, I’d continue the case. But, only as long as there was some rational reason to believe I could get your diamonds back. As I said earlier, if I reach a point where I feel there is no real chance of finding Murray or of recovering the diamonds, I won’t keep taking your company’s money. That’s the point where I’d throw in the towel, because it wouldn’t make sense to continue, no matter what you were paying me.”

  “That’s acceptable,” Wilkins said, “you may consider yourself hired.”

  “Thanks,” I said, “but to satisfy my curiosity, I have one last question.”

  “Yes?”

  “You said that an even dozen diamonds weren’t recovered from the robbery. And now, you’ve apparently recovered one of them, leaving only eleven outstanding. Why over 15 years later, is Great Western Marine and Casualty willing to spend money to recover them. You said your company paid out a large claim, but even so, I’m sure a profitable, international insurer like your company has long since overcome the loss. What makes these stones so special?”

  “The inherent value,” Wilkins said. “These are blue diamonds, Type IIb diamonds, which are extremely rare and of very high value. All blue diamonds are rare. But, blue diamonds with the very high color intensity these gems possess are the rarest. They are the most valuable. They are also all of significant size and carat weight making them even more valuable.”

  “Then why would someone even bother stealing diamonds like that, much less trading a 15-year prison sentence for them?” I said. “Besides being so unique, you said that a microscopic serial number was etched on them. How could you ever hope to sell diamonds like that?”

  “It would not be possible to sell gems like these diamonds to any reputable, legitimate diamond dealer,” Wilkins said. “Assuming that Kyle Murray did indeed sell the diamond in Toronto, undoubtedly he received in payment only a tiny fraction of what the stone is worth. Perhaps Murray only received a few hundred thousand dollars for the stone or less. And, yes, these diamonds do have serial numbers etched into them. But, anything that can be put on a diamond can be removed by someone who knows how to do it. There are unscrupulous diamond dealers around the world, in places like Dubai as one example. Dealers willing to pay a fair price for diamonds like we’re discussing stolen or not.”

  “But, how would they get their money back out of them? It seems even if the serial numbers were removed, the information in the database you mentioned would reveal that they were stolen diamonds.”

  “Only if a dealer attempted to sell them on the open market in their original condition. They wouldn’t do that, however. These diamonds are all of substantial size. An unscrupulous buyer could have them re-cut, altered in some way. They could then obtain new certificates of authenticity for them. Then they could resell them with ease. Even if the altered stones didn’t bring quite as much, the loss in value could be quite minimal.”

  “What are these eleven diamonds worth then?” I said.

  “I can tell you this much, Mr. Malone,” Wilkins said. “Great Western Marine and Casualty paid $67.5 million on the claim in 2003. Today those diamonds are worth far more than they were over 15 years ago.”

  “Whew!” I said. “Now I’m already regretting I let you haggle my fee down to two-hundred-seventy-five dollars a day. If I do recover the diamonds, in spite of the reward it seems Great Western Marine and Casualty will realize a windfall profit.”

  “True, if you recover them we will recuperate the cost of the claim and then some,” Wilkins said. “But, of course, there is no iron-clad guarantee that we will get the rest of the diamonds back.”

  “I’ll need a letter from your company stating that I’m acting as your representative in the attempt to recover the diamonds. I’ll need to visit the Toronto police to see what their investigation yielded. Without the letter, I doubt they would feel inclined to give me the time of day. I also need a $3,000 retainer to get started. Once the retainer has been earned, my secretary will send over a bill monthly until I conclude the case.”

  “That’s satisfactory,” Wilkins said. “I’ll have my secretary draft the letter and have our accounting department issue a check for the retainer. I’ll have them both couriered over to your office tomorrow morning.”

  “Let her buck,” I said.

  “Pardon?” Wilkins said.

  “It’s a technical investigative term,” I said. “It means I’m on the case.”

  TWO

  Sara and I stood at my kitchen counter in my new digs, at the Crestview Apartments on Laurel Canyon Boulevard as I stirred dried thyme, salt, and pepper into the heated olive oil in my large skillet.

  “Five-hundred thousand dollars?” Sara said. “Are you serious?”

  I added about a pound of red new potato halves and tossed them with a fork until the potatoes had an even coating of oil. I covered the skillet and set the timer on the stove for 12 minutes. Some investors had purchased my previous apartment building. When I received notice the new owners were increasing the rent, I decided that if I would be paying more for a place to live anyway, I wanted something with a little more class. The Crestview Apartments was an older brick building behind the Hollywood Bowl, but before I moved in the apartment renovators had gutted and remodeled it into an open floor plan with fresh paint, new fixtures, and hardwood floors. Outside the French patio doors, I had a nice view of the Hollywood Hills.

  “That’s what the man said. If I can find Kyle Murray and recover the diamonds, I’ll collect a half-million dollar reward.”

  “My, oh my,” Sara said. “If you get the reward, you could at long last afford to take your sweetheart on the trip to Paris we’ve been talking about for years.”

  “I suppose we could,” I said. “But before committing to such an expensive vacation, I’d have to discuss it with my financial planner first.”

  “You have a financial planner?”

  “No, but if I got my hands on that half-milli
on, I’d sure get me one.”

  Sara laughed. “Yes, I suppose you should.”

  I lifted the lid off the skillet and stirred the potatoes a second time. Then I pushed them to one side of the skillet, added another two teaspoons of oil, and placed two chicken breasts in the skillet alongside the potatoes. After browning them, I sprinkled garlic and another half teaspoon of dried thyme over the chicken breasts. I arranged lemon slices on top and then covered the skillet again to let the chicken cook for another ten minutes. I put a pat of butter into another skillet and put the skillet on the stove over medium heat to melt it.

  “Being realistic, what do you feel the chances are you will recover the diamonds and get the reward?” Sara said.

  “Being realistic,” I said, “a little better than my chances of being struck by lightning.”

  “So, I shouldn’t get my hopes up over a dream trip to Paris just yet?”

  “You might want to avoid any irrational exuberance for a while, at least until I get started on the case and learn just how difficult it will be to locate Murray.”

  “Hope for the best, but expect the worst then?” Sara said.

  “Something like that,” I said.

  I added a pound of fresh asparagus to melted butter in the second skillet, stirring it on and off until it was crisp-tender and browned. I transferred it to a serving platter, added a little fresh-grated lemon rind, lemon juice, and salt. Then I tossed the asparagus until it had an even coating of the mixture. When I removed the lid from the first skillet, I found the chicken browned to perfection, and the potatoes were tender. I plated the chicken and potatoes and carried them to the dining room table. Sara followed with the asparagus and took her place at the table. I pulled the cork on a chilled bottle of Chardonnay from the Sonoma Coast and carried it to the table with two glasses.

  “Would you care for wine, mademoiselle?” I said to Sara.

  “Oui, s’il te plaît, merci,” Sara said.

  I filled her glass and then mine. I lit the single taper candle in the holder setting on the table, dimmed the lights, and then went into the living room and slipped a Norah Jones CD into the stereo. Then I sat down at the table, and we ate dinner while Norah sang about taking a long way home.

  “At least you will be earning your daily fees while you’re looking for Mr. Murray and the diamonds,” Sara said. “You might earn enough for our vacation that way.”

  “But, alas, you know not of the most unkindest cut of all,” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “To have the chance at the reward, I have to agree to accept less than my usual daily fees until I find Murray and the diamonds, or decide Murray isn’t findable.”

  “Less than your usual rate?” Sara said. “Then why in the world did you accept the case?”

  “What makes you think I already accepted it? Maybe I told Wilkins I needed to think it over. Maybe I’m mulling it over now, examining it from every conceivable angle to make sure taking the case is in my best long-term financial interests?”

  “Oh, please,” Sara said. “I know you’ve already accepted the case because I know you. It’s a foregone conclusion. The moment your client waved the possibility of a $500,000 reward under your nose, there is no way you would have said no.”

  “Well, in my defense Wilkins plied me with liquor during lunch.”

  “I know you drink nothing stronger than beer at lunchtime because when you do it makes you sleepy.”

  “All right, if you insist on being technical he plied me with beer,” I said. “But, It was still alcohol, five percent by volume.”

  Sara rolled her eyes at me. “Can you even afford to do this, Ben? Won’t you have to give exclusive focus to this case? Won’t that make it your sole source of income for the foreseeable future? You took on higher monthly rent when you moved to this place. You’ve got office rent, Rhonda’s salary, and utilities to pay.”

  “And, beer to buy, don’t forget that,” I said.

  “I’m serious, Ben. You are only just making ends meet as it is.”

  “I can handle it,” I said. “I’ve got a little rainy day fund in the bank I can tap if I need to.”

  “Sure you do, the money you’ve been saving the last two years toward the vacation to Paris,” Sara said. “That trip seems less likely all the time.”

  I took another bite of chicken and washed it down with a sip of Chardonnay.

  “It seems the bard was right, the truth will out,” I said. “All I am to you is a potential free vacation to Paris.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” Sara said, with a smirk. “You are also quite useful for taking care of my needs in the boudoir.”

  “There is that,” I said.

  “I like this,” Sara said.

  “The garlic and thyme chicken and asparagus or the stimulating dinner conversation?”

  “I meant the view,” she said, “the hills outside the patio doors. It certainly beats the scenic view of the parking lot we had at your old apartment. And it seems so roomy here, so open and uncluttered.”

  “Yes, I like it here,” I said, “plus I have a shorter commute to the office.”

  “You were welcome to move in with me,” Sara said. “We could have made it work.”

  “I’m sure we could have,” I said. “But, I refuse to be a kept man, and things work well the way they are. You know my philosophy has always been if it isn’t broken don’t try to fix it.”

  Sara smiled. We ate for a bit listening to Norah.

  “Why do you think Wilkins came to you?”

  “Besides the fact I’m an unstoppable investigative machine with a nose like a bloodhound?” I said.

  “Yes, besides that.”

  “He said he had received a stellar recommendation from someone he knew whose opinion he trusted,” I said.

  Sara nodded, as she lifted another microscopic piece of chicken to her mouth on her fork. A wide grin blossomed on her lips and touched her eyes.

  “You don’t care about money,” she said. “It’s the challenge you enjoy. You know it will be difficult to find that man and recover the diamonds. You only want to prove that no matter how difficult the case, you are equal to the challenge.”

  “Sure, I welcome a challenge,” I said. “But, I always like getting paid too.”

  “How will you begin?”

  “I thought I’d have Rhonda look up Murray’s criminal records in the morning and see what prison they released him from. Then I will call the warden’s office there to see if I can interview Murray’s last cellmate. Cellmates spend a lot of time together and talk to each other. If I can talk to Murray’s former cellmate, maybe he will have an idea where Murray skedaddled off to.”

  “Skedaddled?” Sara said. “That’s a quaint term. I don’t recall hearing that word used in a while, or maybe never.”

  “It means to depart in a hurry for parts unknown,” I said.

  The definition earned me another eye roll.

  “I know what the word means, thank you very much. I meant only that the term is rather dated.”

  “There isn’t any reason to give up on a perfectly good word, just because it has a little wear on it,” I said.

  “What makes you think a convict will tell you anything about Murray, assuming he even knows anything that might be helpful to you?”

  “I plan to offer to put in a good word for him with the warden if he is cooperative,” I said.

  “You think that will loosen his lips?” Sara said, looking skeptical.

  “I’m kidding,” I said. “I will offer to deposit a hundred bucks in his commissary account if he tells me anything useful.”

  “Yes, I suspect that would go further than the offer to put in a good word with the warden.”

  “Exactly,” I said.

  It always struck me as nothing short of miraculous that Sara somehow finished her dinner taking such small bites which she chewed the requisite thirty-two times, but once again she had cleaned her plate.

>   “Let’s clear the table, and then let’s sit on the patio while we finish the wine,” she said. “It’s a lovely evening.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I said getting up from my chair.

  “Afterward, may I count on you to satisfy my needs in the boudoir before I leave to go home?”

  “Oui, as always it would be my pleasure, mademoiselle,” I said.

  “Merci beaucoup mon amour,” Sara said.

  THREE

  The old Security Bank Building at the northeast corner of Hollywood and Cahuenga looked like what it was, a seven-story mid-rise of Italian Romanesque architecture built in 1922. It had gone through many renovations and a lot of tenants since the early twenties. My old friend and mentor Jack Bright had his private investigation agency offices there on the second floor until a man Jack was helping me investigate murdered him. At the insistence of Jack’s sister, I had inherited Bright Investigations. While business had been picking up the last few months, without Jack’s contacts, the agency hadn’t yet prospered under my direction. After the first year, I had moved the offices to a smaller suite on the fifth floor to save on rent.

  Rhonda, my secretary, and Jack’s before me, was at her desk pounding away on her keyboard when I stepped through the door with the pebbled glass window that had my name lettered on it in gold leaf. Rhonda looked up from the keyboard when I walked in. She had silver-gray hair done in a pixie haircut and wore an old-fashioned pair of those black plastic half-rimmed glasses she kept perched on the end of her nose as a matter of habit. I’d never told her but in appearance Rhonda sort of reminded me of Sister Agnes from back in the third grade when I attended Catholic primary school. Sister Agnes always used to scare the hell out of me. Rhonda sometimes did the same thing, another reason she reminded me of Sister Agnes. At least Rhonda had never cracked me across the knuckles with a wooden ruler.

  “What’s the special occasion?” Rhonda said. “You’re here at nine o’clock. It’s a miracle.”