“Insurance?” he barked. His eyes bore into mine. “For what? You mean blackmail.”
The old house’s entryway led straight into the living room. He could chase me around the furniture for a while, but he’d catch me sooner or later and I had no way to leave. My cab was long gone. I pushed past him, knelt next to Cody, and positioned the cool washcloth over the reddening spot on her forehead.
I glanced up at Woodham. “Your wife needs a doctor. Are you calling or should I?”
“Who are you? What are you doing in my house?”
Skye had been right about this guy. Was every day All About Trent Day? “I have no desire to make your life more complicated.” But, the investigator in me sure had an itch to see the letter in Woodham’s hand. Was that what triggered this argument? Why she started drinking? “You and your wife are somehow linked to Victor Durisseau’s death. You knew about him, so it seems to me you had a very good motive for murder.”
Woodham held his head high. He spat, “You know nothing.”
I pointed at Cody. “Think about someone else for a change.”
He pulled a different cell phone from a holster on his hip. “I’m calling right now.”
“Good. By the way, how come you use two phones?”
His grip was so tight his knuckles turned white. Was the other phone an untraceable burner? He could prepay for minutes in cash. Unless the cops had the number, there would be no way to trace the calls back to him.
“Leave my house. Now.”
“Not until I’m sure your wife will be safe.”
Despite his comment about dialing, he still hadn’t. I was about to place the call myself when Cody stirred. Scowling at her husband, she raised herself up on one hand. “You’re a bastard, Trent.”
When Woodham still didn’t move, I reached out to help Cody to her feet. “Do you want a doctor?”
“I want to be rid of that.” She jabbed a finger at her husband. Despite her slurred words, there was no mistaking her icy tone.
Woodham reached for Cody’s arm, but she shook it off. “Leave me alone. I’m done with you. You can go back to your little friend and do whatever it is you two want.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she regarded me, “You know about Victor. Well, ask Trent about his boyfriend. Nothing like having your husband be more interested in another man than a woman.”
“That’s a lie!” Trenton stepped backwards and slipped on one of the ice cubes. He recovered before he fell.
“Talk about feeling worthless,” said Cody.
I gawked at Woodham. Was that why he had a burner cell? To hide his own affair—with a man? “I’m sure there’s a completely innocent explanation if that’s not how it is.”
“He’s just a friend.” Grimacing, Woodham glanced off to one side.
Cody snorted. “Right, Trent. You’re the poster boy for family values in this town. You couldn’t possibly be screwing a man!”
Her husband stormed away, then spun on his heel. He shook the letter in his fist. “Cody, you’re stupid, petty, and self-centered. You saw what you wanted to see. You got pregnant by Victor because you wanted to feel worthless.”
It sounded like a bizarre concept to me, but I wasn’t a shrink. And I didn’t know Cody. I did know sincerity when I heard it, though. Trenton Woodham actually believed this weird rhetoric about his wife. These two were about as screwed up as I’d ever seen. “Who is this other man? And was it the letter that set you two off?”
“None of your business,” Woodham said.
“Show him,” said Cody. “Go ahead. It’s going to be on the front page tomorrow, anyway.”
Woodham sneered at his wife. “Not if I can help it.”
“You can’t plug every leak. Sooner or later, it will come out.”
Cody continued her taunts. “Go on, Trent. You said you wanted to be rid of me. Here’s your golden opportunity. Don’t wimp out now.”
“You want the world to know you’re a slut?” He glared at his wife for a few seconds. His impassive exterior cracked and his face burned a bright red as he shoved the letter at me. He sneered at Cody. “I’ll bury you with this.”
The letter was from a prominent Honolulu physician. Short and to the point, it simply confirmed what I already knew. Cody Stellon-Woodham was pregnant. I fixed her with a sympathetic gaze as she slid down the wall, sobbing. Talk about bad PR. It would take a miracle worker to beat the negative press on this one.
With her bravado gone, Cody reminded me of a broken rag doll. Her sobs filled the air, but her husband stood to one side, still unmoving. Was he that cold? Or hurt? The color in his face confirmed just how deeply Cody’s affair had cut him. What a terrible way for Cody’s child to come into the world.
“Look, your wife needs support. If you stand by her, you’ll weather this.”
He shook his head. “I won’t be father to a bastard child. This disaster is of her own making.”
I shot back, “As might be yours. The name of your friend will come out sooner or later.”
“Get out of here.” He grabbed the letter and stuffed it into his pocket.
“You can see what this is doing to your wife.” I pointed at her. “You can stop it.”
Between sobs, Cody croaked out something I barely understood. “It was some handyman. Graham something-or-other.”
“I warned you, Cody! I told you what would happen if you talked!”
“Back off!” I stepped forward. Stood between the two of them. Had I gone off the deep end? I wasn’t a fighter. This guy outweighed me. He was twenty years younger. And then, the name sunk in. Handyman? Meyer’s guy? I stared at Trenton. “You’re involved with Graham Reynolds?”
The reverend glared at me, then stormed out of the room. On his way, he dialed a number on the burner. He didn’t say a word until he was out of the house. I put my arm out to Cody for support. Together we got her back on her feet.
When she was up, I said, “I’ll call for help.”
She waved my offer away. “I’m fine.”
Well, if that just wasn’t a true drunk talking. “Do you know where Trenton’s going? Will he be meeting Graham?”
Her head lolled up and down. “Of course I do. Trent’s been hiding him in the basement of the church since Victor’s death.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I wasn’t sure if Cody’s revelation was real or the rant of a drunken, pregnant woman. Drunk and pregnant—what a horrible combination—but add in the possibility of a husband cheating with a male lover and—what could happen next?
Besides, she’d probably lied about her husband hiding Graham. So why had he run out? Have a secret phone? And—what if it was true? “How do you know Trent’s hiding Graham at the church? Why didn’t you say something when I was here before?”
She pressed the washcloth to her forehead. “Damn, that hurts.” Glazed eyes. Composure nonexistent. She was in no position to be doing any complex reasoning.
“I need to borrow your car.” I said it nonchalantly, almost as if we were old friends who did this all the time.
Rather than blow me off, she frowned, then asked, “Why should I do anything for you?”
I had to think about that one for a second. I’d expected a flat no. It was time to invoke McKenna’s Second Skip Tracing Secret—when in doubt, lie. “Well, you want to be there when the police take him down for harboring a fugitive, don’t you?”
She peered at me. “How’sat gonna happen?”
“You’ll have to be there to see it. It will be your ultimate opportunity to see Trent get what he deserves.”
Her eyes wavered from side-to-side. The wheels in her head were probably spinning as fast as they could go. Give in to the alcoholic buzz or see her husband suffer? All of a sudden, she straightened up and focused on my face. “Only if I can go pee first.”
“Uh, sure. Happens to me all the time.” Okay, too much information. I helped her up and to the bathroom. The door closed in my face. I licked my lips and stared at the door ju
st inches from my nose. I called out, “I’ll, um, wait.”
With Cody momentarily occupied, I phoned Chance again. He picked up on the third ring. “McKenna! Oh man, am I glad you called. I totally get Victor.”
“Awesome,” I grumbled. “Fill me in when you meet me at Trenton Woodham’s church. He’s hiding Graham Reynolds in the basement—or so Cody says.”
“I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
The toilet flushed, but the door didn’t open. When I peeked inside, Cody was curled up in the corner crying. I sighed. “It might take me a bit longer, but I’ll meet you there.”
Cody and I went through the tedious process of getting her back on her feet again. After a bit of prompting, she remembered agreeing to let me use her car. We made it out of the house and to the car with her navigating on her own, but she fell asleep before we were on the road. From my perspective, it was just as well. If I hit something, she’d probably just bounce off.
Driving petrifies me. Period. But, even though my mind should have been on the road, I kept wondering why Trenton Woodham would hide Graham Reynolds. Were they really lovers? Is that why Graham was still here?
It took exactly twenty-two minutes to get to the All Faith Hawai‘i Church. I know because I was counting every excruciating second behind the wheel. When we arrived, the Ferrari was already in the parking lot on the side of the building. Chance, however, was nowhere to be found. Now what?
Cody stirred in her seat. Now that she’d had a nice little nap, maybe I could get more out of her. Would her stories match? I squeezed her shoulder until she peered at me with bleary eyes.
“Cody, is Trenton gay?”
She snorted, then closed her eyes. “No way.”
I jiggled her shoulder again.
“What? Leave me alone.”
“One last question. Why does he have a burner phone?”
She rolled her eyes and settled back into her seat. “So I wouldn’t know he hired some guy to spy on me.” With that, she was out.
If I was lucky, she’d forget all about me when she woke up, wonder how she got here, and drive home. What the police would do with her, I had no idea. However the next few minutes played out, her life would be transformed forever.
I left the keys in the ignition, eased myself out of the car, and went in search of Trenton, Graham, and Chance. A small sign for deliveries pointed to the left. I followed the path and came to a doorway someone had left ajar. Chance Logan’s mangled library card was between the jamb and the door.
The paper wasn’t even laminated. I muttered, “Jeez, Chance. What do I need to do, give you another lesson in door-opening techniques?”
I put the card into my pocket and eased the door shut behind me. The click of the lock echoed in the concrete hallway. Okay, not the sort of place where you can sneak up behind someone. So much for the element of surprise.
A ramp sloped down to the right. Stairs on the left led to a landing where there was a door marked “Equipment.” I tiptoed down the stairs. The door was locked. Easy decision. Follow the hallway.
My heart sounded like a freight train rumbling down the tracks. The clip-clopping of my slippas was even worse. I removed the rubber sandals and walked softly. Ah, that was it, quiet as a ninja. The bad guys would never hear me coming.
Two male voices grew louder with each step. I recognized Chance’s first. Then, Trenton Woodham. At the end of the hall, another set of stairs rose, probably to the portion of the church the public saw. To my right, an open doorway. I peeked around the corner.
Chance was on the wrong end of Trenton Woodham’s pistol.
I pulled back. Looked again. There was also a man gagged and bound to a chair. Who was that? Graham Reynolds? If Trenton was in panic mode, he’d be cleaning up loose ends. And Graham, Chance, and I all fit that category.
I eased back. Checked my cell. Signal strength—a big fat zero.
“I know you’re out there,” said Woodham. “I heard you. Get in here or I’ll shoot your friend.”
My heart sank. Time to face reality. I must be more elephant than ninja, and now I had a bigger problem. The moment I entered the room, both Chance and I would be at Woodham’s mercy.
The only thing I could hope for was a distraction. I set the timer on my phone for one minute.
Placed it on the floor at my feet.
When the timer rang, we’d make our move.
“If I have to say it again, I’ll shoot them both,” yelled Woodham.
I exhaled. Pressed my back against the wall. I needed a miracle. Otherwise, we were all doomed.
A trickle of sweat ran down my forehead. My right eye stung. Small comfort. But, a reminder I was still alive. Obviously, Trenton Woodham wasn’t the wimp Cody thought him to be. I’d misjudged him, too. A cornered animal is the most dangerous. I knew that, yet still had barged in here. No matter how you cut it, being his hostage did not bode well for my future.
“I’m sorry, Benni,” I whispered. Why had I lied to her? Not listened to her? She was right, I had no business investigating murders. I’d again let my skills at finding people make me think I was a crime crusader. Kimu dreams or not, I had to focus on living, not finding ways to die.
And then, there it was. Staring at me, plain as day. Right in the face. The solution. Kimu would be so proud.
I called out, “Okay, Trenton, I’m coming in. Don’t shoot.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
A white sign beneath the fire alarm panel on the opposite wall read, “Caution: Triggers Deluge System.” I shrugged. Whatever. I didn’t have time to consult the user’s manual. Who cared about a few sprinklers. Just go for it. I pulled the handle. Bells blared everywhere. The overhead pipes jackhammered with the sound of rushing water. Then, it came. And came. In torrents. Oh, I get it, that kind of deluge.
A gunshot echoed over the din.
This was like being in a hurricane—no, the dream. Oh man, how fast would the room fill up? Would there be a tidal wave? Without thinking, I rushed in to save Chance. Too late.
Trenton was face down on the floor, arm pinned at his back, Chance kneeled over him.
The man in the chair struggled against his bonds, but couldn’t free himself. When I yanked off his gag, he sucked in huge gulps of air.
“Who are you? What’s your name?” I asked.
No use. Fear was all he knew. He probably expected to drown or something stupid like that. Already the floor was an inch deep. Maybe he wasn’t so stupid after all. How long did we have? Minutes?
“Who is he?” demanded Chance as he pulled Woodham’s head back by the hair.
“Graham Reynolds,” he sputtered, then spit out a mouthful of water. “He killed Victor. Let me up!”
I knelt to inspect Graham’s bindings. If we untied his legs, we could tie Woodham’s hands. “Now I know what frogs feel like.”
“What?” Chance bellowed.
“Frogs. In a hurricane. Now I know what they feel like. Never mind, we need to get out of here.” I untied the ropes binding Graham’s legs.
He bolted from chair the moment I finished and slogged toward the door. I’d never catch up to him. I shrugged as Chance and Woodham stared at me.
I mustered my loudest possible voice. “He won’t…” The alarm bells stopped. “…get far.”
Great. No alarm bells, but the ringing in my ears was brutal.
A loud voice boomed, “Is anyone down here?”
I sloshed to the hallway. A yellow-suited fireman saw me and waved. Beyond him, another escorted Graham to the exit. With their protective gear, the men shushed toward me like invading aliens.
For some reason, I glanced down. Closed my eyes.
My slippas were long gone. Floated away. But, my cell phone was still here. Buried under an inch of water.
I shook my head. “You win, Kimu.”
The firemen rushed us out of the building. Once we were in the safe zone outside, they escorted us to where the cops waited. The two uniformed HPD officer
s, immediately realized they’d stumbled into a hornet’s nest. The phone calls went out. It wasn’t long before the detectives on Meyer’s case showed up.
Graham was taken in for medical treatment, Trenton was held in the back of a police car, and Cody had disappeared. I hoped she made it home without incident. Chance and I gave separate statements. Once we were both done, we were instructed to wait. About ten minutes later, a man in a muted aloha shirt and khakis introduced himself as Detective Morningside. When he heard Chance’s name, he eyed him from head to toe. He nodded and pursed his lips. “So you’re the one.”
Chance put a hand on his chest. The poor kid was petrified.
“What one?” I asked.
“Dating Councilman Ashbrook’s daughter, Lexie.”
“I...I guess.” Chance stammered.
I snickered and gave Chance a wink. “And you thought she was just a regular kind of girl.”
“Not my place to judge you, Mr. Logan, but she’s quite a catch. Her father’s the one who initially got HPD to look into Mr. Durisseau’s business after she blew the whistle.”
Chance flushed and stammered, “She told her father about this?”
I could see where the kid might be having a my-life-is-ruined kind of moment—his girlfriend had some serious connections via her father. Even with that, I had to know. “You’ve been investigating Victor Durisseau?”
“Not personally, no. It’s a different team. They were about ready to move in when he was murdered. As of yesterday, forensics discovered traces of powder from a latex glove on the gun. We’ve finally got some leads on other suspects. It would appear you’ve uncovered some pretty damning evidence against Woodham and Reynolds. I’d say your friend Mr. Herschel will be off the hook in another day or so. And since we’ve taken Woodham and Reynolds in custody, it should be pretty easy to match the DNA.”
I tried not to snicker, but this one ought to be obvious to the cops. “Last time I checked, you couldn’t get DNA through a glove.”
“The glove was only used when the killer fired the weapon,” he said, deadpan.
“Oh.” I hate feeling like an idiot, especially when it had been so easy for him. “Have you told this to Meyer? I mean, Mr. Herschel.”
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