Honolulu Hottie

by Terry Ambrose

  This time, the gulping I heard was definitely my own. “Is your beach private?” I blurted.

  Skye glanced at me with a condescending smile. “The beach? No beaches here are truly private.”

  Chance glared at me. “The beach? What does that have to do with our case, McKenna?”

  “Nothing. I just think we need to focus on Victor. Skye, how long were you and Victor seeing each other?”

  “A couple of months. We met through a mutual friend.” She turned her full attention to Chance. “Are you busy later? I have some...needs...that haven’t been met since Victor died. I think you could be just what the doctor ordered.”

  “Dr. Morph?” I asked.

  Skye stared at me. “Dr. Morph?” She laughed and put a hand over her mouth. “He’s nothing more than a small-time quack who did some work for Victor. I gather from your visit that you’re looking for Victor’s killer. Well, I had nothing to do with it. In fact, I was quite ready to drop Victor because he’d become so...predictable.”

  When Chance nodded, Skye leaned closer to him. “You do like variety, don’t you?”

  “Yes!” he blurted.

  How could I get him out of here? He was ready to do something he’d regret—eventually.

  “He’s predictable, Skye. Boring. Very dull.”

  Chance sat up a bit straighter. “I think Mr. McKenna and I need to get our questions answered first, then we can—explore our options.”

  Skye’s manicured eyebrows went up a couple of times. “Oh, sweetie, I’m all yours.” She let out a sigh and looked into my eyes, suddenly all business. “What would you like to know?”

  “When did you last see Victor?” To my surprise, the voice was Chance’s, not mine.

  “The day he was killed. We had breakfast on the lānai before I sent him home.”

  I raised one hand to interrupt Chance. “You said you were getting rid of him. Why was that?”

  “I told you. He’d become predictable. My ex-husband was remarkably predictable. We both knew from the beginning how long the marriage would last.” She laughed. “We even had a prenuptial agreement spelling out the terms of our divorce before we said, ‘I do.’ My ex-husband regards his wives as more of a lease agreement than an outright purchase. In any case, Victor knew exactly how much money I had when we began.” She winked at Chance. “If nothing else, Victor was thorough.”

  “Did you know Victor was a con man when you began your relationship with him?” I asked.

  I didn’t think women like Skye snorted, but she did. She clamped her hand over her mouth for a second, then waved off my question with a dismissive hand flip. “Of course. I’m the one who had to tell Cody what he was.” She rolled her eyes. “That innocent girl actually thought he loved her.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The whisper of the sea breeze through the open sliders sounded like a roar. No kidding. This situation was wrong on so many levels. Skye knew Cody? And she knew the preacher’s wife was in love with a con man? Pregnant was one thing, but love was—wow.

  Skye glanced between the two of us. “Oh,” she said. “You weren’t aware.”

  “I think my brain’s going to explode,” I mumbled.

  Skye frowned, her head cocked to one side. Chance raised both eyebrows as if he needed a repeat. In the distance, ocean waves cast their spell of serenity. This was one time I was happy to repeat myself—sort of.

  “I said, tell us what else you know.” A moment later, I added, “Was Cody okay with you taking away Victor?”

  “Not exactly,” she said. “It was for the best, though. Cody will see that eventually.”

  Which was the clue? Skye’s red blouse? The green crystal on the table? Cody’s hair? Why did the colors have to mean anything? Pfft. Kimu was a master of the obtuse. They had to.

  Our little cooperative witness upped the ante. She brushed her hair to one side and stroked the neckline of her blouse. Chance’s eyes widened once again. She had the kid right where she wanted him and I had no desire to spend a few hours walking the beach while these two worked on kinky relaxation techniques. And, as nice as this room was with its fancy Hawaiian artwork, potted palms, and oiled koa furnishings, I definitely wouldn’t want to be within earshot when the—action—started.

  I shifted position enough to catch their attention. They both peered at me. Neither was too happy about it either, I’d guess. “Skye you said Cody wasn’t okay with losing Victor. Did she know it was you who encouraged him to—wander?”

  “Let’s be clear about one thing. Cody and I have known each other for years and I would never hurt her by revealing my relationship with Victor. He’s the one who dumped her when he thought he’d found a better meal ticket. He’s the one who told her about me. Sadly, I didn’t find out what he’d done until afterwards. When I realized he’d hurt her, I wanted to avenge his insensitivity and boorishness and told him I never wanted to see him again.”

  Avenge? Sounded a lot like motive to me. Also, I’d never read the Girl Code manual, but doubted if “kiss as long as you don’t tell” was in the “It’s okay to…” section.

  Chance leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He gazed at Skye from under his Tigers cap. “So what did Cody say when she found out about you and Victor?”

  “She’s refused my calls since.”

  “She never mentioned you when we spoke,” I said. “If she’s so angry, why isn’t she accusing you of killing Victor?”

  “More than anything, I think she’s envious. She knows she’s stuck with that hideous husband of hers and sees me living freely. We talked several times about how she might get away, but Cody would rather live with a bad situation and money than the opposite.”

  Please, no. Not another option. Now the green was about envy? Kimu, what are you doing to me? What other perverse options do you have planned?

  “Why do you think so little of Trenton Woodham?” asked Chance.

  “Other than him being a stuffed shirt and a pain in the ass? Few people know this, but when Cody first met him she was fresh out of an abusive relationship. Trenton was the one who actually extricated her from it. He got into a fight with the boyfriend and put him in the hospital. Trenton didn’t go to prison, but Cody told me Trenton visited her ex while he was recuperating and threatened to kill him if he ever approached Cody again. Cody claims Trenton felt so bad about what he’d done he turned to God. He’s the most self-righteous ass I’ve ever met.”

  “Do you think that’s why Cody liked Victor? He was the anti-Trenton?”

  “Cody always talked a good game, saying how she wanted to be wild and free again. She kept saying how much she envied my lifestyle. When it came right down to it, though, it was all just talk. She wanted the security of marriage—no matter how tedious it might be.”

  Chance leaned toward Skye and put his hand on her shoulder. He looked straight into her eyes and she shuddered.

  All of a sudden, I saw Skye in a different light. Gorgeous blonde. Beginning to show her age around the edges. A lustful lifestyle having more to do with seeing an end in sight than actual enjoyment. Even if Cody was locked in a terrible marriage, why would she envy this woman?

  “Did Trenton know about Victor?” Chance asked.

  Skye shook her head. “I doubt it. He would have divorced Cody. His principles are quite rigid.”

  The question of the crystal still plagued me. It was nearly a foot tall, about six inches in diameter, and had been mounted on a polished koa pedestal. I knelt next to the table and rubbed my finger over the wood. It rotated. “Nice. Very expensive, I’ll bet.”

  “It was a divorce present from my ex-husband.” She winked at Chance. “We’re still on friendly terms.”

  “He bought you a divorce present?” Chance gawked at Skye. “That’s...unusual.”

  “It was a very amicable arrangement.” Skye inched closer to Chance. “I detest parting on bad terms.”

  I wasn’t about to let her get away with that lie. “You said you never wanted
to see Victor again.”

  “There’s an exception to every rule.” Her voice turned cold. “Victor received what he deserved.”

  Not a confession of murder, but one nasty streak buried deep. How could I get Chance away from her? “Why a green crystal?”

  Skye raised one eyebrow and cocked her head. “I have two favorite colors. This is one of them because it symbolizes balance and growth.”

  “And envy,” I said.

  “Oh, you like looking at the negative side of things. Yes, it does. And don’t forget possessiveness. I am very demanding.” She stroked Chance’s knee. Leaned forward. “And I do love to dominate.”

  Chance winced. He glanced down at her hand. We had to get out of here before I ended up walking home.

  “I think we should be going now. Chance, you agree, yah?”

  Glassy-eyed, Chance started to stand, but Skye moved her hand up to his thigh. She whispered, “We have so much to learn about each other.”

  The kid’s ability to resist temptation was somewhere in the near zero range from what I could see. No wonder his dad had stepped in to save him from himself. His willpower sucked, but at his age, he probably had more testosterone than brain cells. I looked straight at Chance. “You have to drive me back.”

  He indicated he’d heard me, but Skye’s hand on his knee had sent his restraint subzero.

  Skye uncrossed her legs and stood in one languid movement. “One second. I have a solution.” She swayed out of the room.

  I hissed, “You don’t know this woman, kid, she could be a cold-blooded killer!”

  “I totally know what I’m doing, McKenna. It would be better if we split up. Besides, she might have secrets I can uncover.”

  “Yeah, there’s going to be a whole lot of uncovering going on. I don’t think any of the lady’s secrets are going to remain hidden for long. You have no idea what you’re doing. You have to get out of here before you regret this for the rest of your life.”

  “I regret crashing the helicopter. I’m not going to regret this.”

  “What helicopter?”

  “It’s how I got kicked out of Hollywood. I got drunk one night and snuck onto the set. I stole the stuntman’s helicopter and crashed it. There, now you know why I’m here. Anyway, I’m doing this for Meyer. Mr. Marlowe says we have to follow all leads. It’s my duty to see this through.”

  Before I could tell him what a crock this whole Phillip Marlowe thing was, Skye returned. It was almost as though she’d been listening from outside the room and timed her entrance. She handed me two fifty-dollar bills. “You don’t mind catching a cab, do you sweetie? I think this should cover about anywhere you want to go. Keep the change.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Skye Pilkington-Winchester had effectively turned my friend against me. For what? Sex? And Chance, my supposed new friend, had willingly gone along and justified his actions with that crap of needing to follow leads? Alexander would never have abandoned me. Not that I could call Alexander because he’d tell Benni about what I’d been up to. Ugh. I had to admit defeat and take a cab.

  When the car arrived, I gave the driver the address, pulled out my phone, and immediately dialed Benni’s number. It rang three times, then went to voicemail. Was she angry and avoiding me? Or just busy? My message was short and to the point. “Benni, I’ve screwed up. Please call me as soon as you can.”

  Every turn through the streets of Honolulu just made things worse. Skye had dismissed me as though I were nothing more than a dating-service employee. I might as well be for all the good I was doing Meyer. I had to wrap this case up without Chance. I had to show him abandoning his partner was a major screw up.

  The cab rolled to a stop. The driver pointed to the meter. Thirty-six dollars and forty-two cents.

  I got out of the cab and handed him one of the fifties.

  “Keep the change.”

  He rolled his eyes as he pointed at the sign next to the meter. “Don’t carry no change, brah.”

  “Right. Thanks for the lift.”

  He pulled away, leaving me all on my own. White house. Big driveway. Killer view of the Pacific.

  I faced the Woodham home.

  I had no choice but to prove Meyer’s innocence on my own.

  On my last visit, the driveway had been empty, the garage door open, and only a black BMW on the right side. The BMW was still there, but a blue, Sebring convertible was parked under the front overhang. Cody had company. Who might it be and how would they affect my visit? I gazed over my shoulder at the departing cab. Crap, I didn’t have a phone number for my trip home.

  Gray storm shutters on the windows were the ideal accent to the flawless white paint. This house was, yes, perfect. But, angry voices coming from inside told a different story. The structure might be sound; the lives inside were not. The voices were definitely those of a man and a woman, but their words were unintelligible. I’d come this far, I wasn’t about to blow off my other fifty bucks without having something for my troubles. I rang the bell.

  A man answered the door. His aloha shirt appeared to be freshly pressed or dry cleaned, ditto for his linen slacks. Leather sandals. No socks. He wore wire-rimmed glasses, from behind which he gazed at me impassively. In his right hand, he held a piece of paper. It looked like someone’s letterhead, but I couldn’t tell whose.

  “Wilson McKenna.” I extended my hand. “Are you Trenton Woodham?”

  He ignored my introduction and my hand. “Your purpose in calling?” For a man who’d been yelling at his wife moments before, he was remarkably composed. Breathing normal. No red face.

  “I was talking to Cody earlier and had a few more questions for her. May I come in?”

  “My wife is not feeling well at this moment. May she reach you later?”

  A shadow moved on the wall behind him. I called out, “Mrs. Woodham? It’s me again, McKenna!”

  Cody staggered into view. She stood behind her husband. “Come on in, Mr. McKenna. Join the party. Move over, Trenton!” she chirped.

  Glassy eyes. Half-finished martini. She was drunk? Was she crazy—or oblivious?

  Trenton gritted his jaw and held tightly to the door. “This is not an appropriate time for my wife to answer any inquiries. She’s under the weather.”

  There was no way past hubby unless he chose to let me in. I needed him to want me inside the house. “Mr. Woodham, I understand how badly your wife is feeling at this time. It likely has something to do with some distressing—rumors—I’ve heard. This could reflect negatively on you and Mrs. Woodham. I’d really like to clarify the facts before I turn the information over to my editor.”

  “Your editor?”

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mention that I’m working on a story for the Star-Advertiser.” Given the number of lies I’d been telling lately, I’d probably burn in hell. What was one more lie? The reverend wouldn’t know my editor sent me packing after nearly getting myself killed on my last unofficial assignment. “My editor, Melanie, well she wants your side of the story so we can put the appropriate spin on it. You know, support your efforts in the community and all that.”

  His eyes flickered in recognition, then he glanced over his shoulder at Cody, who was contemplating the glass in her hand. She swayed slightly as she spoke. “Trenton is very concerned about his image, Mr. McKenna. I’m sure he’ll want to spin the facts for you.”

  Trenton went and stood next to his wife, then grabbed her by the arm. “Why don’t you go to bed?”

  “I thought that’s what caused this whole problem.”

  Whoa, did that mean Trenton knew about her affair with Victor? How much did he know? What did a prominent clergyman do with a promiscuous wife? Was she? This was no time for niceties. I stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. Let the blood spill on these immaculate granite floors. “How long did you know about your wife’s affair with Victor Durisseau, Mr. Woodham?”

  He spun to face me, the letter still clutched firmly in his hand. “How the�
��never mind.”

  “Show him the letter, darling.” Cody slugged down the last of her martini.

  She took a few steps, then tripped over her own feet. Trenton watched as she crumpled to the floor. Her glass shattered on the tile. Ice cubes skittered away, leaving little trails behind. Trenton stood by, wavering. I rushed to her side. “She’s not bleeding.”

  Cody moaned as I eased her onto her back. Her husband still hadn’t budged.

  “Is she okay?” For the first time, he sounded worried.

  Or, was he hopeful? I looked up at him, hoping for the best. “She should see a doctor. There’s nothing obvious, but who knows.”

  “No doctors. She was drunk when I got home. I can’t believe what she’s become.”

  “And what would that be?” I remembered how Cody had broken down earlier. Her perfect life of philanthropy had shattered as quickly as the glass in her hand. Another rich one had bitten the dust.

  I cringed at the thought of how easily I’d let Chance fall into Skye’s clutches. What had I left him? I pulled my phone. Dialed his number. Voicemail. “Chance, call me the minute you get this.” When I looked up, Trenton was on his cell phone, talking in a low voice. What was that about? He sure wasn’t calling 9-1-1. So, who? His PR guy? Someone who could clean this up for him?

  “We need a wet washcloth.” I went into the bathroom, turned on the water, and prepared to shoot video with my phone. A few seconds later, washcloth in one hand, cell phone recording in the other, I returned to the hallway. Trenton was standing over Cody. He still hadn’t knelt by her side, nor had he expressed genuine concern.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he bellowed.

  “Insurance.” I knew this guy could easily tear me apart if he wanted to. What I didn’t know was whether he would do it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Trenton Woodham took a step toward me, but despite his menacing appearance and what Skye had told me, I held my ground. Kept the phone recording going. He’d turned away from violence. Was I testing his faith? Or mine?