03 - Three Odd Balls (13 page)

The good news? Louise scooted over and gave the driver’s seat back to Tessie.

The bad news? Louise scooted over and gave the driver’s seat back to Tessie.

Chapter 13

Communicating through cell phones and wild gestures, we convinced Tessie the lead-footed wonder to follow us out of the neighborhood. At a moderate speed and without trying to pass me. Miracles do happen.

“I think I saw a restaurant not too far from here,” Wilson said as we retraced our route. “It looked okay.”

I remembered the place he was referring to. The outdoor bistro wouldn’t be quite as pleasant as the breakfast patio at the Wakilulani, but at least it was a giant step up from the spot next to the trash cans on Thistle Street. I glanced at the rear-view mirror, made sure my mother saw what I was doing, and pulled into the parking lot. Tessie parked in the adjacent space without hitting me. Miracle number two.

“Oh, Honeybunch!” she exclaimed as she propelled herself from the driver’s seat. “I didn’t even see you at Carmen’s house until Louise told me. Wasn’t that fun?” She clutched her clipboard in one arm, took Wilson’s elbow with the other, and they led the way toward the table the hostess was indicating. “I just love sleuthing,” she told him. “I could do this all the time.”

I glared at Louise, and she offered a semi-guilty shrug. “It’s way more fun than surfing,” she tried.

“And you got to drive,” Mother added over her shoulder. She leaned into Wilson. “Louise has never driven a car before.”

“I noticed,” he mumbled.

***

“Let me get this straight.” Wilson set down his iced tea and glanced back and forth between the two lunatics. “You guys rented a car this morning—right after us—and then drove to Carmen Dupree’s house. So Tessie here could interrogate her?”

“Absolutely!” Louise said. “Tessie had the most fantastical plan.”

“Always think ahead,” Mother said brightly. “That’s my motto!”

I gave up on trying to find an Advil in my purse. “Excuse me?”

“Thinking ahead,” she repeated and began searching for something in her own purse. “I decided I would conduct a survey in Carmen’s neighborhood. All pretend, of course.” She looked up, a bottle of Advil in hand, and set it before me. “Jessie, honey,” she said, “you should share those with Wilson.”

I was divvying up the pills when the waitress arrived to take our lunch order. Once she disappeared, Louise continued, “I volunteered to be the one to actually approach Carmen, but Tessie insisted she should do it.”

I frowned at my mother. “And why, pray tell, was that?”

“Because Louise is far too young, and pretty, and memorable. But me?” She waved a dismissive hand. “Bless her heart, Carmen won’t ever remember me. I look like every other old lady in the world.”

“So Tessie conducted the survey, and I stayed in the getaway car,” Louise said.

Wilson reached for another pill while I tried simple logic. “Louise can’t drive, Mother. Why would you put her behind the wheel of the getaway car?”

“Silly Jessie! We knew we wouldn’t have to skedaddle away that quickly. We weren’t robbing a bank, were we?” She tapped her clipboard. “We were just conducting a little survey is all.”

Wilson groaned, or maybe whimpered, while my mother explained her pseudo-survey. “I planned on discussing a new senior citizens center for the neighborhood,” she began. “But when Carmen answered the door with those children in tow, I quick put on my thinking cap and changed the senior center to a playground.”

“Your mother’s a genius!” Louise told me, and I wondered when the Advil would kick in.

“Carmen loved the idea of a playground,” Mother mused. “And it was a good way to learn about her children.”

“Genius, genius, genius!” Louise repeated, but before we could learn more about my mother’s genius, the waitress brought our lunch. Tessie spent the next few minutes enjoying her avocado salad, admiring what the rest of us were eating, and making sure we were all happy with our meals.

After assuring her his grilled ahi was the best tuna he ever tasted, Wilson braced himself and asked about Carmen’s children. Mother looked down at her notes and read off four names.

Okay, so math has never been my strong suit, but I can count to four. “There were only three children,” I argued.

“The youngest isn’t walking yet. But Carmen let me take a peek at him. He was having his morning nap.”

“That’s a small house for a woman with four children.” I said.

“And Ki stays there, too, doesn’t he? The poor things are very cramped, but I don’t believe Carmen can afford a bigger place.”

“She mentioned Ki?” Wilson asked.

“Mm-hmm. He’s the baby’s father.”

“She actually told you that?” I asked.

“I keep telling you, Jessica! Your mother is a genius!”

“No,” Mother corrected Louise. “But people do confide in old ladies, and Carmen was happy to talk about her children. We were discussing that playground, you see.”

The waitress came back to clear our plates and ask about dessert. Everyone declined except my mother. We waited patiently while she discussed her options with the waitress and finally chose the mango custard. She giggled as the waitress left us and confessed that sleuthing must have built up her appetite.

Wilson took a deep breath. “Who’s the father of Carmen’s other children?”

“Well now, that’s where things got interesting,” Mother said. “I’m afraid I didn’t get a last name, and I didn’t learn the name of the little girl’s father at all. She’s the oldest. But a David-person is the father of the middle two boys.”

I sat up straight. “David as in Davy?”

“It is a possibility, isn’t it? Look here, Wilson.” She tapped her clipboard. “Carmen used to work for Pono Okolo.”

“No!” Louise and I said in unison.

Wilson scowled at Tessie’s notes. “You actually found out the woman’s employment history?”

“It was part of my survey, wasn’t it?” She looked up as the waitress came back with the whipped cream-covered dessert. And while the rest of us marveled at her ingenuity and appetite, Tessie continued, “Carmen used to be a waitress at the Wakilulani Gardens. She complained the tips were bad, but I imagine that’s how she met Ki.”

“Soooo.” Louise wiggled an index finger at me. “Carmen would have known Davy.”

“And Faye told us Davy was a ladies’ man,” I mused.

“So Davy could be the father of those boys!” Louise continued.

“And Ki could have stolen Carmen away from Davy.” My turn.

“And Davy would have been jealous,” Louise added. “I’m seeing a love triangle! Carmen, Davy, and Ki.” She used her index finger to draw a triangle in the air.

I squinted at the imaginary triangle and contemplated the chronology. “But then Davy would have killed Ki,” I said. “Not the other way around.”

“Are you done yet?” Wilson interrupted.

I abandoned Louise’s triangle and shrugged. “So, umm, maybe we are getting a bit carried away.”

“Maybe?” He looked at my mother. “Why did Carmen leave the Wacky Gardens? She tell you that?”

Mother tapped her trusty clipboard. “Ki asked her to quit once he and Buster inherited the place.”

Louise jumped. “So maybe this does work, Wilson! Maybe Ki was jealous. He didn’t like Carmen being around her old boyfriend Davy, so he made her quit. But then, maybe he was still jealous, so he killed Davy anyway!”

And maybe Wilson would have given this theory some thought, but my mother interrupted. “No,” she said. “According to Carmen, Ki was only thinking of the other staff when he asked her to quit. He didn’t want things to look unfair with the two of them so involved—him being the new owner and such.”

“Because Ki’s so fair-minded?” I said sarcastically.

“Mm-hmm. Carmen says he’s a very level-headed fellow.”

“Ki Okolo?”

Wilson squeezed my knee and suggested we move on. “Where’s Carmen work now?” He pointed to the clipboard. “Did you get that?”

Mother flipped through her notes and pointed to something on the third page. “I’m afraid the poor girl still isn’t making a decent living. She drives one of those Beyond the Beach tourist busses.”

“The big green busses?” Louise asked. “We saw a few of those this morning!”

“That’s right.” Mother nodded. “In fact, I caught Carmen just as she was getting ready for work.”

I turned to Wilson. “We could go this afternoon.”

“What about the surfing lesson?” he asked.

What about it?

I argued that a bus tour with Carmen Dupree was much more important.

“Why?” he asked. “It’s not like she’s gonna lecture us on the details of her love life. She’ll be talking about the volcano.”

I was about to argue some more, but Mother reminded me how “disappointed” Chris would be if I stood him up. “He so wants to help you hang ten, Jessie.”

Much to my chagrin, even Louise agreed with this faulty reasoning. She suggested we wait until the following day for our Beyond the Beach tour and asked if she might tag along. “I’d love, love, love to see more of this island!” She hazarded a glimpse at my mother. “Tessie drove by things pretty quickly today.”

“Oh?” I glared at my mother, and trust me, Tessie Hewitt the mind-reader knew my exact meaning. But she pretended otherwise.

She held up her hands and declined the non-invitation. “No thank you, Honeybunch. Even if I am just another old lady, Carmen would likely recognize me if I climbed onto her bus.”

“But how will the rest of us recognize Carmen?” Louise asked. “Did anyone but Tessie get a good look at her?”

Wilson and I shook our heads while my mother again rummaged around in her purse. This time she held up her cell phone.

“Tessie Hewitt, you are a genius!” Louise exclaimed as she reached out. “Genius, genius, genius!”

Wilson looked at me. “She didn’t?”

I pointed to the phone Louise was now holding. “Apparently she did.”

Louise tossed the phone to Wilson, and I leaned over to get a glimpse of Carmen Dupree, a very attractive brunette.

He looked up at Tessie. “I cannot believe she let you take her picture.”

“It was part of my survey, wasn’t it?”

He glanced back at the phone. “Genius,” he mumbled.

Louise folded her arms and smirked. “Told you so.”

Chapter 14

Wilson swatted at my computer. “Where’s Russell Densmore when you need him?” he asked.

“Probably enjoying a week without his irritable boss.” I leaned back in my chair and pointed to the bougainvillea vines surrounding our porch at Paradise. “I wonder if I could grow those in Clarence.”

“Too cold,” Wilson said without looking up.

“But they would get lots of sun.” I pictured my rooftop garden back home. “I could bring them inside in the winter.”

“Yeah, and who’s gonna lug the things up and down that stupid stairwell for you?”

“Well, you.”

“Good thing they have thorns,” he said and banged a bit harder on the keyboard.

I glanced over at the poor innocent machine and suggested we go get Ki. “He’s the computer expert, no?”

“That would be great. We could ask him to help us Google his girlfriend.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” I pretended to glare and leaned over to rescue my computer from further abuse. I might suck at the internet searching thing, but no one could be worse at it than Wilson. I set the machine on the coffee table, cleared the screen, and asked what I was looking for.

“Anything,” he said and spouted off an array of topics I might try, including Carmen Dupree, Ki, Buster, and Pono Okolo, Rachel Tate, Bethany Iverson, and the Wacky Gardens in general. “And try Derrick Crowe, too.”

Ah, yes. The guy who fell off the face of the earth. Where was Lieutenant Denmore when you needed him? No doubt the computer whiz extraordinaire of the Clarence PD and Wilson’s right-hand man would have no problem finding useful and informative clues on the internet. All with one or two deft and efficient clicks of the mouse. But Wilson’s extensive list could easily keep the far less skillful me busy for hours, if not days.

I whimpered only slightly and began tapping away while Wilson stood up to pace the porch and complain. “Research!” he said impatiently and spun around at my left. “That’s what Densmore’s for.”

I lifted my eyes and watched him do another lap. “Even Russell Densmore wouldn’t be able to concentrate with you jumping around like that,” I said. “Make yourself useful and go get me a Pele’s Melee.”

“We’re due for a surfing lesson in half an hour, Jessie.”

Alas, no pink drinks. But at least Wilson did sit down, and at least I located the local paper’s website. We found Davy Atwell’s obituary, informing us the memorial service was postponed until after the holidays.

“Why is there nothing about the family?” I asked, exasperated. “And absolutely no mention of those children? Why, why, why?”

“Jessie,” Wilson scolded. “We have no proof any of Carmen’s kids are Davy’s.”

I shrugged and moved on to find the report on the murder. That article was downright miniscule, but it still managed to include a disconcerting quote from Captain Vega, wherein he assured the public that the tourist who committed this terrible crime would be apprehended shortly.

While Wilson muttered a few four-letter words, I continued onward. Or rather, backward. I found Pono Okolo’s obituary and a mention of the transfer of the property to Ki and Buster. I even found a few advertisements for the refurbished, remodeled, and renovated Wakilulani Garden Resort. The ads included photos of the newly redecorated bungalows, the new koa tree beds, new kitchen, new dining room, new you name it.

“Altogether uninteresting,” I concluded.

“But I bet the history of this place is important.” Wilson stood up to resume pacing. “Find out more about the dead grandfather.”

I saluted and resumed my efforts as the Hoochie Coochie brothers resumed yet another rehearsal over on the Song of the Sea porch. Despite myself, I just had to listen. What was that?

“Oh, my Lord,” I said as it finally hit me. “Is that the “Chattanooga Choo Choo?””

Wilson stopped and perked up his ears. “Don’t you need a horn section for that?” he asked and unwittingly began pacing to the beat.

I was repeating my observation that a pink drink would be nice when I actually found something that seemed promising. I gestured to Wilson, and he sat down to read as I clicked on an article from one of the Los Angeles papers. It was over a decade old, but it was an extensive travel piece on the Wakilulani Gardens, and even included a picture of Pono Okolo, his bird, and his chef.