03 - Three Odd Balls (18 page)

“Bingo.”

Bingo—we had arrived at the Primrose Tower.

“Did Russell discover anything about Rachel Tate in all his research?” I asked as we stared at the monolith before us.

“Nope.” Wilson tore his gaze from the Primrose and glanced at me. “Which can only mean that Rachel Tate—at least the Rachel Tate we’re looking for—doesn’t exist. Whoever this woman is, I’d bet money she’s using a false identity.”

“Wild goose chase,” I reiterated as we approached the entrance to the Primrose Tower.

“You have a plan this time, Miss Amateur Sleuth?”

I reminded him that having a plan was not exactly my style and hopped into the revolving doorway.

***

The doorway ejected me into the Primrose Tower, and I stopped short to take in the awe-inspiring surroundings. The lobby was about the size of the entire acreage of the Wakilulani Gardens. Chrome, glass, and enormous mirrors dominated the décor, and with scads of white Christmas lights strung onto every conceivable object, the room literally sparkled.

“Use Plan A from last night,” Wilson suggested as we hiked our way across the expanse of marble flooring.

As we closed in on the check-in counter, I concluded Rachel Tate, or whoever the heck she was, was not working that night. The clerk was male and even older than I.

“I hope you’re not looking for a room,” he said as we approached. A name tag informed us his name was Lloyd, and Lloyd informed us the Primrose Tower had no vacancies. “We’re full through New Year’s.”

“No, no, no,” I said with a wave of my hand. “But I do hope you can help us, Lloyd. We’re looking for an old friend.” I leaned on the counter. “Well no, that’s not quite it,” I corrected myself. “Rachel’s auntie is an old friend of mine—”

“Cicely and Jessie go way back,” Wilson finished for me.

“Way, way back.” I said. Apparently I was to take the Bee Bee role this time.

“Cicely was so excited to hear we were staying at Halo Beach on our vacation,” Wilson continued. “She told us to be sure to look up Rachel while we’re here. Gosh, this island is glorious.”

I blinked twice. Did Wilson Rye just say gosh? And glorious?

He was waiting for me. “Umm, glorious,” I mumbled, and he continued raving about this, that, and the other “glorious” thing we were enjoying about Hawaii.

“The beach!” he exclaimed. I kid you not—exclaimed. “And that volcano? We are having such a wonderful time!”

I managed a hoarse “Wonderful.”

Lloyd frowned and turned to Wilson. “What is it you’re looking for, sir?”

“Who,” Wilson corrected him. “Who.”

“Who,” I repeated dutifully.

“Rachel Tate,” Wilson clarified, and poor Lloyd winced accordingly.

Wilson pretended not to notice. “You see, Lloyd, Cicely told us Rachel worked at the Wakilulani Gardens, so we went there for dinner last night.”

“Dinner,” I Bee-Beed.

“But lo and behold, the folks there told us she works at the Kamikaze Sports Bar.”

“Kamakokoa,” Lloyd and I both corrected.

Wilson continued, “So we popped over there last night, too, didn’t we, Jessie?”

“Popped.”

“But lo and behold, those folks told us she works here now. They said she’s your new night clerk. So here we are!”

“Here we are!” Enthusiasm personified, I elbowed my way in front of Wilson. “I can’t wait to see her! If you could tell me when her next shift is, I’d be forever grateful. Rachel does work here, doesn’t she?”

“She did work here,” Lloyd said. “But she got fi—.” He cleared his throat. “She quit last night.”

Why was I not surprised? I sighed dramatically and asked Lloyd where we might find her. Of course he had no idea. And of course he refused to give us her phone number or forwarding address.

Wilson muttered something under his breath about how handy a badge could be, and would have wandered off had I not reached out and grabbed his shirttail. I maneuvered him back into place and once again turned my attention to Lloyd.

“We had a very nice dinner at the Wakilulani Gardens,” I said. “If any of your guests are looking for a good restaurant, I would highly recommend it.”

“I hear the new chef’s great,” Lloyd agreed.

I pretended to admire the chandelier above his head. “But to be honest, we were a bit disappointed with the drinks. Cicely told me to be sure to order a Pele’s Melee at the Wakilulani, but dare I say, they were nothing to write home about?”

Lloyd shook his head at my ignorance. “That’s because their bartender just died. He kept that drink recipe a deep dark secret—probably took it to the grave with him.” He shook his head again. “Great chef or not, that place is jinxed.”

“Oh?” I used my most beseeching look, and Lloyd gave us a brief account of Davy’s murder. We acted shocked and dismayed, but he told us nothing we did not already know.

I was feeling rather disappointed in our lack of progress when he pursed his lips. “If you ever do track down Rachel, you should probably know she was engaged to the dead guy.”

“What!?” we practically shouted, and the poor guy backed up a step.

“That was her latest excuse for slacking off anyway,” he said. “She was in mourning.” He did the air-quote thing, clearly not convinced of the woman’s grief. “I’m sorry, madam, but your friend wasn’t a very good employee to begin with. And then when Davy Atwell got himself killed?”

Lloyd stopped and let us think about it.

“She was worse than ever?” Wilson asked.

“Something like that.”

***

“We’re looking for a lunatic,” Wilson said. He had lost the silly amateur-sleuth persona and was back to his normal self.

“I thought we were looking for Rachel Tate,” I argued as we found our favorite spot in the sand and sat down. I gazed out at the Pacific. “Do you think we’ll ever find her?”

“Nope. But Densmore will. I told him to figure out who she really is, come hell or high water.”

“And who else is the talented Lieutenant still investigating? Bethany, I assume?”

“Nope. I changed my mind about Bethany.”

I turned from the sea to face Wilson. “Why’s that?”

“I’ve been too hard on her. At the luau tonight Emi confirmed what Densmore told me earlier about all three of those girls.”

I cringed. “You didn’t actually have Densmore look into Emi Ulii?”

“You bet I did. As you would say, Chris is smitten with her. So Densmore checked her out.”

“You don’t trust anyone, do you?”

“Nope. Densmore found the high school connection—Emi, Makaila, and Bethany—but there’s nothing there.”

“Alas, no sinister Hula Club connection?”

He chuckled. “All three of them were good kids in high school and ever since.”

“But Bethany lied to Chris about who fired Derrick Crowe,” I argued. “And she knew how to make a Pele’s Melee.” I nodded meaningfully. “She was sleeping with Davy, correct?”

“Maybe, but you heard what Gail told us—Bethany’s smart. She probably watched Davy make so many pink drinks, she caught on by osmosis.”

“But if Bethany was sleeping with Davy,” I persisted, “and now we know that Rachel was engaged to him?”

“We don’t know either of those things for a fact.”

Ah, the pesky fact factor. My beau the cop is such a stickler in that regard.

“I can’t believe you’re dismissing your prime suspect at this critical juncture, Wilson.” I drew a love triangle in the sand to illustrate my argument and pointed to each corner. “Bethany, Rachel, and Davy,” I insisted.

Wilson pointed to each corner. “Carmen, Ki and Davy,” he said and reminded me that just the previous night Ki had been my prime suspect. “And with what Densmore learned about Carmen’s kids? Think about it, Jessie.”

I conceded that Carmen had good cause to be a bit angry at Davy. “And a possible inheritance from his estate would be a powerful motive.”

“For Carmen and for Ki. And then there’s the Ki-Vega connection.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not sure, but Denmore’s checking into it. Why is Vega refusing to even look at the owners or the staff at the Wacky Gardens?” Wilson didn’t wait for an answer. “Vega said something earlier that bugged me.”

“Vega says a lot of things that bug you.”

“He called me Sherlock.”

My face dropped. “Ki calls you Sherlock.”

“Bingo.” Wilson offered one of his meaningful cop-like looks. “It’s a common enough expression. But.”

“So you think Vega and Ki are friends, maybe?” I did the deductive reasoning thing. “So Vega may be protecting Ki? Like some sort of conspiracy?”

“It’s possible. But let’s see what Densmore finds out before jumping to conclusions.” He patted my knee. “And in the meantime, let’s check out Davy Atwell’s place.”

I nodded eagerly. “We’ll take the Beyond the Beach tour tomorrow.”

“Maybe, but let’s do our Nancy Drew and Ned imitation first. We’ll get directions from Louise and you can drive me over to the mansion.”

I squinted. “What are you up to, Captain Rye?”

“I need to get into that house, Jessie. See what I can find.”

“Oh, my Lord,” I hissed. “Are you actually thinking of breaking in?”

He grinned. “Didn’t Nancy Drew ever break into a house?”

I looked up at the almost full moon and laughed out loud. “Let me guess—you know all about how to pick a lock, disconnect burglar alarms, et cetera, et cetera.”

He shrugged modestly, and it occurred to me, yet again, that there was a lot about this man I did not know. “Did Dianne Calloway teach you how to be a criminal?” I asked.

Wilson lost the grin. “What?”

“I don’t know what, Wilson. But Vega mentioned something about you protecting her. So I’m thinking maybe she was a criminal of some sort.”

Wilson glared at me until I again reminded him I did not know what I was talking about. Then he poked his head into his Shynomore sack and pulled out one of the shirts he had purchased on our way home from the Primrose Tower.

He held it up to the moonlight. “I like this one the best.”

I took stock of the assortment of Dr. Seuss characters. “You’re trying to change the subject.”

“Yep.”

Chapter 19

“Urquit Snodgrass truly is evil, isn’t he?” Mother asked.

“Downright dastardly.” I looked up from my breakfast and winked at Louise. “You’ll be happy to know he’s finally kidnapped her.”

Louise gasped. “Delta Touchette? What? When? Where? How? Tell me, tell me, tell me!”

“At the Goochie Leoia Gorge,” Mother told her and then repeated herself. “Goochie Lee-O-I-A. Did I say it right?” I nodded as she continued scrolling down my computer screen and explaining, “Just like Jessie mentioned yesterday. He kidnapped Delta while she was taking her morning bath.”

Wilson put down his fork. “Snotgrass actually nabbed her naked?”

“Snodgrass,” Mother corrected him.

“And of course not,” I said. “Delta might be a daring adventuress, but she is still quite modest. She wasn’t likely to let the evil villain see her naked for very long.”

Mother giggled as she read further. “Very clever, Jessie.” She stopped reading to enlighten Wilson. “Despite her harrowing night all alone in the jungle, Delta Touchette has kept her wits about her.”

“And bathing in the clear blue waters of the Goochie Leoia Gorge has revived her considerably,” I added. “So she’s very alert.”

“There now, you see?” Mother reached a fork over to nab a bite of my pancakes.

Wilson shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m asking this—but see what?”

“Delta, of course,” Tessie said after swallowing. “She could just feel Urquit Snodgrass’s eyes upon her when she was attending her morning toilette, so she ever so quickly hopped out of the pool on the farther bank and wrapped herself in a leaf.”

Wilson blinked twice. “Did you just say, leaf?”

“A big huge tropical leaf,” I elaborated. I pointed to a few examples in the garden surrounding the breakfast patio, and then at some sort of vine-twine stuff hanging from the nearest tree. “And then she used a vine like that one and fashioned a belt to hold the thing on.” I tapped my chin and pictured Delta. “She looks quite fetching, actually.”

“I am sure she looks fantastical!” Louise interjected. “Very, very, very sexy!”

Wilson groaned and went back to his pancakes as Tessie summarized the actual kidnapping scene for Louise’s edification.

Duly intrigued, my agent fretted about Skylar Staggs. “He must arrive to save Delta soon, Jessica! That leaf, no matter how large, isn’t going to deter Urquit Snodgrass for very long!”

I looked up from the last of my pancakes. “Louise,” I scolded. “Exactly how many of my books have you read by now? Do you really think Adelé Nightingale would ever allow any of her heroines to be violated by the bad guy?”

She sat back and considered. “Good point,” she said. “And I do apologize for doubting you.” She wiped her brow in a motion reminiscent of the distressed Delta Touchette herself. “I’m just so worried about poor Bee Bee, I can’t think straight. Where oh where can he be?”

I exchanged a meaningful look with Wilson, and then with my mother. They both nodded encouragement.

I took a deep breath. “Umm, Louise,” I began as Tessie reached over to take her hand. “We have a theory about Bee Bee’s disappearance that, umm, maybe you should know about.” I cringed, and Louise’s face dropped. In fact, she looked like she was about to cry.

“You think he’s dead, don’t you?”

“No, no, no, no,” I hastened to reassure her and explained the basic kidnapping idea while Mother patted her hand and mumbled a few “There-theres.”

Louise swallowed a sob. “So you think the killer kidnapped Bee Bee?”

“Bee Bee heard something important that night,” Mother said. “The killer needs to keep him quiet, doesn’t he?”

“This guy—this person—has gone wacko,” Wilson added. “Think about it, Louise. They returned the knife to the kitchen for no good reason. And they’re hiding the stupid bird.”

Louise sipped her coffee and thought about it. “But Bee Bee isn’t stupid,” she said in a surprisingly calm voice. “That’s why they’re hiding him.” She put down her cup and sat forward. “But!” she said loudly, and we all jumped.

“But what?” we asked.

“But where are they hiding him? Where, where, where!? Bee Bee would make far too much noise anywhere inside. Sooo.” Her eyes darted back and forth around the patio. “So the killer must have hidden him out there!” She pointed toward the volcano and turned to me. “We need to go out there and find him, Jessica!”