I glanced sideways at Chance. “Why do some people get so much bad thrown at them, Chance?”
He kept his eyes forward, but he grimaced. “I’m not sure, McKenna, I’ve been wondering the same thing. I thought maybe you would know.”
“In all the years I had to track down deadbeats, I’ve only seen a few who got such a raw deal.” I gazed out at the ocean, but even the diamonds reflecting off the water’s surface couldn’t lift my spirits.
One part of Kimu’s message was perfectly clear. Bad things were coming. We passed the rest of the trip in silence.
Chance parked in his usual spot and we walked slowly to my apartment. Why couldn’t all this hurt go away? Was that my job? Was that why Kimu communicated with me?
“You know, Chance, life is just plain unfair at times. I suppose Paddy Merlin has gotten that unfairness in spades. Nothing can bring his wife back. And, he can’t undo the hurt he’s caused to people he helped swindle. The only good thing is maybe telling his story will mitigate some of his mistakes. Are you up to taking another look at Victor’s files.”
“After what we saw? Oh, yeah. I want to fix this. Bad.”
The jumble on my dining table was still nothing but a mass of data we somehow had to turn into meaningful information. But how? Cody Stellon-Woodham was high society. A big philanthropist. Victor’s exact opposite.
“There’s so many things about this situation that don’t make sense, Chance. Was Cody one of Victor Durisseau’s girlfriends? Maybe you had it right. Maybe she was a victim of deceit like Paddy Merlin.”
Chance gestured at the files on table. “Victor was a thief and a liar.”
“Don’t forget that he was good with the ladies. Or so Monty the Squealer said.”
“You call him Monty the Squealer? Have you got names for everybody?”
Uh oh. One part of my personality Chance didn’t need to know about. I waved off his question. “If Cody really was having an affair with Victor, we’ve got to get something concrete. See if you can find out anything else from Lexie. Meyer’s depending on us.”
Chance picked up one of the files, stared at the first page of the papers inside, then dropped it back into place. “I know what I’ve got to do, McKenna.”
His voice held a sharp edge I’d never heard from him before. Was he realizing how this first step might send him into a world where relationships were filled with deceit? It pained me to be the one who’d brought him to that crossroad in life.
“What are you up to while I’m gone?” he asked.
“I want to verify information. You don’t have to take this too far. You know, tell her you want to go slow. That’s not a lie.”
“McKenna, I’ve been on dates before. I totally know what to do. Believe me.”
“Uh, right. My bad. One suggestion, though. Only quiz her about this a little bit. Don’t let her think you’re just using her for information.”
Chance picked up one of the red folders. He flipped through, skimming the contents. His brow furrowed when his eyes came to rest midway down the page. “This guy had a huge business, didn’t he?”
“What did you find?”
With a shrug of his shoulders, Chance closed the folder—and avoided answering my question. What was that all about?
“I’ve got so much to learn. I sure am glad we’re working together.” He licked his lips and began to fidget. “I was thinking of taking her to the Hau Tree Lanai.”
“That’s a pretty swanky place, yah?”
“It’s supposed to have fabulous food and ocean views. I don’t want to come across as too extravagant. You think it will be okay?”
“I’m not a good one to ask about that kind of thing, Chance. I don’t go out much, so the only place I know is Lulu’s.”
“Been there. It’s got a great view of Waikīkī Beach.” His voice was flat, almost disappointed.
“Hey, the Hau Tree Lanai is probably perfect. Just ask her though, okay? Who knows, maybe she’ll have a suggestion for someplace else.”
Chance brightened, then excused himself. I’d expected the kid to be Mr. Suave, but he was nervous as a cat. When you added in driving time, I figured I had at least a couple of hours before my protege would be back. Until then, it was time for some heavy-duty research.
I began with a web search for Cody Stellon-Woodham. Her name showed up in conjunction with about a dozen Honolulu charities. All of those were well-known and reputable. There were also news stories from a number of online publications as well as the Honolulu Star-Advertiser. After nearly an hour of combing through results, I concluded that Mrs. Woodham was cleaner than squeaky clean. Nothing negative. Nothing even remotely derogatory.
It was odd how she and her husband were seldom seen together. In press interviews, if she spoke of her husband, she always sounded like the proud, but not necessarily loving, wife. An interview with Mrs. Woodham about their upcoming tenth anniversary was what made me curious about the pattern.
When asked if the couple planned to do something special to celebrate the event, Mrs. Woodham had said, “My husband and I are celebrating our 10th anniversary in a very special way. We’re breaking ground on a new building for the Trenton Woodham Community Center.”
I read the line three times. Breaking ground on a building wasn’t what I would consider even remotely romantic—especially if only her husband’s name was on the building. Why not a weekend getaway? A big party? I may not be an expert on relationships—okay, I’m a 65-year-old newbie—but that just seemed plain wrong. Way too much professionalism, way too little love.
In fact, all of the quotes followed the same pattern. Never, during the two years of press clippings I read, was there an affectionate or personal comment. Not once. Never did she say she loved her husband. It struck me as odd. Was this a PR guy’s doing? These two were at the forefront of the fight for family values. Wouldn’t it make sense for them to show signs of—well, affection? Why remain so publicly distanced? Maybe I was off base, but I had a sudden, burning curiosity about Trenton Woodham’s other role in life, that of husband.
The reverend’s name was synonymous with high-powered religion in Honolulu. Had the man been born 200 years ago, I could envision him as a missionary determined to convert barbarous Hawaiians to Christianity, traipsing through tropical jungles, a pistol on one hip, a bible on the other, denouncing the ways of a thousand-year-old society. Today, instead of a pistol, he had a microphone. Instead of a single tattered bible, he had an online presence rivaling the largest employers in the islands. Yes, indeed, Trenton Woodham, the “preacher man” as Meyer had called him, was a man with whom one did not trifle.
The reverend’s capacity for performing good deeds was matched by his marketing savvy. Multiple articles about the building dedication attested to his marketing influence. “Tenth Anniversary Celebration Woodham Style” had dominated the news a few years ago—and raised more questions.
On October 11, 2012, Reverend Trenton Woodham and his wife, Cody Stellon-Woodham, will celebrate their 10th anniversary by breaking ground on a new community center in the Kūhiō Park area.
The Trenton and Cody Woodham Community Center will provide after-school programs for children to promote literacy and family values. The Woodham Trust is currently seeking grants from technology companies to incorporate a state-of-the-art Internet learning center.
Why had Cody used only her husband’s name when she talked about the building? It couldn’t have been a slip. I suspected it meant something, but didn’t know what and filed the question away for later. The article went on to describe how the project had been funded by grants from a number of Honolulu’s wealthiest citizens and large companies, and a million dollars from the Woodham Trust, the nonprofit organization created by the couple to carry out their good deeds.
Either the Woodhams were the cleanest of the clean, or they were damned good at hiding their dirty laundry. They also had the kind of money that Victor Durisseau would kill to get. The question was, how f
ar would they go to keep it?
Trenton and Cody both had Facebook pages. There, too, however, they were models of perfect living. I hadn’t yet looked to see if Victor had a profile, so that was the next thing to check. Not only did he have a personal profile, but he also had a FutureProof Investments for Veterans page. The social media information was sparse, just enough to lend credibility to Victor’s operation. But, it was a photo on the business page that stopped me cold and convinced me the Woodhams might not be as clean as the public image they portrayed.
The surroundings in the picture were unmistakable. It was the glass-walled conference room from Victor’s virtual office. Victor and Cody were seated together at the table. They leaned into each other. Cody smiled as though Victor had said something funny. The biggest shock was what she wore—a slinky green dress.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The picture on my laptop captured one of those intimate moments a woman with Cody Stellon-Woodham’s reputation would never want others to see. Gone was her overly formal exterior. This woman was enjoying herself. Having fun. Not promoting. Not…pretending. “I can’t believe he put it on social media.” I closed my eyes. “Now I’m talking to a ghost. Or the furniture.”
In the dream, two women had stood out—one wore red, the other green. I’d been convinced Cody was the woman in red because of her hair color. Could she instead be the woman in green? I continued combing through Victor’s Facebook pages. His posting pattern was very consistent. He posted only one photo of any given person, and all of the photos were taken in the conference room. All were taken from almost exactly the same angle.
I’ve always been a huge fan of candid photos. In my younger days, back when film and processing costs controlled how many photos I took, I’d always had people avoid smiling for the camera. No “watch the birdie” BS. No, I liked catching people unawares because I felt the end result was better. But these were different. Nobody looked directly at the camera, but to get such consistent results, Victor would need a professional photographer—or a hidden camera. Had any of them known what was going on?
The online search for a solution didn’t take long. Bluetooth camera remotes were less than twenty bucks. Once Victor paired the remote with his phone, he could take a shot of anyone from anywhere without their knowledge. Would Cody have sat so close if she’d had any inkling?
My phone rang. I glanced at the display. Chance. “Hey, how’s lunch?”
“I just dropped Lexie off. We’re having dinner on Saturday.”
Now, if the kid had just gotten some new intel I’d be really impressed. “What’d you learn?”
A loud roar drowned out his voice, but I thought Chance said, “Hang on.” A moment later, the thunder was gone. “Darn busses. Anyway, Lexie told me why Victor was going to lose his virtual office space. Someone from their corporate office suspected that Victor was engaged in illegal activities. Be there in five. We’ll talk then.”
Chance hung up before I could tell him we now had enough to visit Cody. While waiting for him, I cranked up the ceiling fan a notch, drank a glass of water, and contemplated how to approach the reverend’s wife.
It was only a couple of minutes before I heard the familiar rumble in the parking lot. It was quickly followed by someone whistling. The someone was Chance and he was whirling his Ferrari key fob in little circles. When he saw me, I motioned for him to take a seat. “You look happy,” I said.
He stuffed the keys into his pocket and stammered, “Yeah, it was fun. Lexie’s…a nice girl.”
Who’s got you flustered, I thought. “You said Victor was going to lose his office space, yah?”
“She was much more talkative outside the office. Lexie’s worked there for about six months. The girl who handled the desk before her left on maternity leave, but never came back. It took a few months, but once Lexie had been there for a while, some of Victor’s clients started complaining to her. At first, she thought they were just people who didn’t understand the risk of investments and got upset when they lost a few bucks.”
“Nothing earth shattering, so far,” I said.
Chance settled back in his chair. His grin said he had something juicy, but wanted to drag this out.
As pleasant as the room was with the sea breeze drifting through the open slider, we needed to move this along. I wiggled my fingers, motioning for him to hurry the process. “Give. We haven’t got all day.”
“Okay, okay. Another one of Victor’s clients came in. He had a notice that he was being investigated for benefit fraud. She told me she’d gotten to know this guy over a few visits. He had three grandkids and a service record he was always proud of. Real sweet guy.”
“Not Meyer, huh?”
“Different guy. Anyway, she said he was always bringing in these newspaper clippings from his hometown back in Iowa where he was totally a big deal. The point is, Lexie got to know him and couldn’t believe he’d commit any kind of crime. She wasn’t surprised when he told her he was going to fight the charges. She figured he was innocent.”
“Just like Meyer. The difference is, he’s not exactly sugary sweet. More like a bitter pill.”
Chance stifled a laugh before donning a somber face. “Your words, not mine.” A second later, he lost it and snickered again.
I waved away his comment. “You ever tell him I said that and I’ll deny it. Not that he’ll hear me, of course. Let’s move on. So Lexie befriended this old vet and felt sorry for him. So what?”
“She played it up real nice with that dude you were talking to in the office. He thought she was coming onto him and started giving her all the dirt.”
It was my turn to laugh. “A pretty face and a smile. A short skirt. Yeah, I could see Monty turning snitch for even a remote chance at getting laid.”
Chance’s face flushed. Oops, my bad. He liked Lexie. I’d better keep my snarky comments to myself.
“Turns out Monty’s been suspicious of Victor for about a year,” he said. “Stalwart entrepreneur that the guy is, he kept his mouth shut to avoid screwing up his business.”
“How come I didn’t get any of this?” I grumbled.
“You don’t have the right assets.” Chance snickered.
“And you do?”
“For Lexie, maybe so. You know, McKenna, she’s the first girl I’ve ever met who seemed interested in me—not my dad’s money.”
“Uh oh, you’ve got it bad, kid. Take my advice, don’t blow it. I wish we didn’t need the information so much.”
Chance shook his head. “It’s okay. She started logging the complaints and even went back to when she first started. She wants to help.”
“It would be great if we could cross-reference her list against Victor’s files. There may not be anything new, but we’d at least know who was the most vocal. Did Lexie tell you anything else about Cody?”
“She confirmed it’s the Reverend Woodham’s wife. When I asked her if there could have been a romantic relationship with Victor, she got real quiet. She said she didn’t ever see anything happen.”
Had Chance’s online classes taught him the difference between proof and suspicion? How could they not? Then again, this was the kid who had no idea he was getting his private investigator’s license from a crook. “Did you ask her if she suspected anything?”
He shook his head, then smiled. “I didn’t have to. I used that pregnant pause thing you do and she fell apart like a Robert Hall suit.”
“A what?” I stared at him for a moment, trying to grasp what the expression meant. It was probably some rich-kid clothing store in LA. The kind of place I’d never walk into.
“You like it?” Chance beamed at me. “It’s an old expression about a retailer who manufactured shoddy men’s clothing. I’ll bet Mr. Herschel knows it. He’s got some great old ones. I can’t wait for the right time to hit him with it.”
I had to nip this trend in the bud. Meyer tried my patience enough. He did not need a cliche-cheering section. “Look, Chance, I don’t
need a Meyer-wannabe hanging around. I get enough of his sayings—right from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”
Chance held up his open hand, palm facing toward me. “Good one, McKenna. High five.”
I ignored him. “You start complaining about me mumbling and we’re done.”
The kid stuck out his lower lip and pouted.
“Drop the kicked puppy face, too. Neither condition applies.”
“I’m sorry, McKenna. I promise not to try your patience again. I know how you old guys can get.”
Despite the gentle air movement created by the overhead fan, my neck prickled. “Are you comparing me to Meyer?” I snapped.
“Well…you do seem younger in some ways.”
I fought back the urge to argue. Wouldn’t that just prove Chance’s point? “Age comments are a subject best not mentioned, even in jest. For instance, Meyer and I are almost twenty years apart in age so you can see how I might not appreciate the comparison.” It wasn’t a complete lie—I did say “almost.”
Chance pursed his lips and worked his jaw from side-to-side. “I just keep making things worse, don’t I?”
“Look, kid, this isn’t one of my Skip Tracing Secrets, but I did finally figure out there’s a reason to quit while you’re ahead. The best thing you can do is get back on topic. Now, about Victor. You didn’t by any chance ask Lexie if he was taking pictures of clients, did you?”
“How did you know?” Chance stared at me, his mouth agape. “No, I didn’t ask, but she made a comment about it. She said she had double-booked the conference room one time. Victor was already in there when five people showed up for a meeting with a different tenant.”
“Oops,” I said.
“It wasn’t a problem for Lexie because Victor’s client was a no-show. When she tried to help him move out and get the others settled in, he yelled at her and told her to leave his stuff alone. She’d already moved a few things and found his cell phone hidden on the other side of the room. If he hadn’t totally overreacted, she probably would have forgotten all about it.”
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