House of the Hanging Jade (5 page)

“This stir-fry is really good, Kailani. I love the meals you've been making. The kids and Lars may not love them, but they'll learn.”

This was my chance. “Speaking of learning, Mrs. Jorgensen—”

“Please, call me Barbie,” she interrupted.

“Okay. Speaking of learning, Barbie, Marcus mentioned that you would like him to have a tutor to help him with his math.”

She nodded, a forkful of tofu halfway to her mouth. “He needs help and I don't have time to sit down and teach him. Why do you ask? Do you know someone we could hire?”

“As a matter of fact, I have a friend who's looking for work right now. He was laid off from the public school system because of cutbacks. He was teaching Hawaiian culture and language classes, but he's a whiz at math too. I've known him since we were kids.”

“What's his name?”

“Liko.”

“Can you give me his contact info?”

I went into the kitchen and came back out with Liko's name and phone number written on a piece of paper. Barbie tucked it into her jacket pocket, promising to call him the next day.

But she didn't get the chance.

B
efore I went to bed that night, I found the scuppers from my kayak on a small table in the den. I remembered leaving them there after I came back from kayaking the day before. I tiptoed through the dark, quiet house to put them back in the kayak. I was coming back through the front door from the garage when I thought I heard voices. I stood still for several seconds, listening.

Yes, there were voices coming from the master bedroom upstairs. Angry voices. Though I shouldn't have, I stood still for a little longer, straining my ears. I was becoming more like Akela every day.

“How could you do this to the rest of us?” Lars asked. “And with that freeloader?”

“I have told you a thousand times, Doug is not a freeloader! He just sleeps here on the nights he doesn't go to O'ahu!”

“I don't think he's doing much sleeping,” Lars spat.

“Shut up, Lars!”

“Why do we even stay married?” When there was no answer, he continued. “I mean it, Barbie. Why do we stay married when you're sleeping with someone else?”

“I'm not even talking to you right now,” she said vehemently, and that ended their conversation. I suddenly felt guilty and stole quietly back to my rooms behind the kitchen. I tried sleeping, but sleep was elusive that night. I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours, trying to rid my mind of the ugly conversation I had heard. When I finally got up, it was still dark out. I needed a brisk walk to clear my head. I slipped out the front door and walked up the long driveway. I strode a short distance along the main road, then turned around and headed back to the house when I figured it was time to start getting breakfast ready.

It wasn't until I got to the end of the driveway that I heard an earsplitting scream. I started running in the direction of the noise in the early-morning semidarkness.

I followed the screams to the pool, where they were joined by a chorus of shouts and barked commands. Lars, yelling for someone to call the police. Two gardeners, running toward the house and gesturing wildly. Barbie, screaming unintelligibly. Akela, shrieking that she didn't know what was going on. Justine, standing away from the others and crying as Marcus tried to shield her with his body.

He was protecting her from the sight of a body lying face up on the lanai, its matted hair shiny and wet-looking. Dark droplets were sprinkled around the body, like angry raindrops. It was Dr. Fitzgibbons.

I quickly grabbed each of the kids by the wrists and pulled them into the house. I couldn't believe no one else had thought to do it.

Once we were in Marcus's room I quickly shut the door to the lanai and turned around to face the kids. Marcus still had his arm around Justine and she was crying uncontrollably into his shoulder. I didn't want to intrude, so I sat down in a chair in the corner of the room and waited for Justine to catch her breath. Marcus was so good to her: He put his arm around her and didn't shrug her off or make a face or do any of the things teenaged brothers do sometimes.

Eventually she calmed down. She looked up at Marcus, her face tearstained, her eyes puffy. “What do you think happened?” she sniffled. Marcus looked at me over the top of her head.

“I don't know,” he said quietly, hugging her tighter.

“Dr. Doug was really nice,” she continued.

Marcus nodded silently.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” I asked.

They both shook their heads.

“Why don't you come into the kitchen with me and I'll fix you something for breakfast?” I suggested.

“I'm not hungry,” Justine said, beginning to cry again.

“Me neither,” said Marcus.

Food was my way of making sense of things, of introducing some order into an otherwise chaotic situation. If the kids didn't want me to cook for them, I was a bit lost.

I stood up and peered through Marcus's closed blinds. Dr. Fitzgibbons's body, dressed only in lounge pants, still lay on the ground, lifeless. Barbie was bent over, her hands on her knees. It looked like she was trying to catch her breath. Lars was standing by the body, arms akimbo, his lips white and pressed together tightly. Akela stood in the corner, her eyes wide with shock. A gardener came around the corner onto the lanai and whispered something to Lars. He listened, then spoke aloud to Barbie. I couldn't hear what he said.

Barbie lifted her tearstained face to look at Lars. “How could you do this?” she shrieked.

“Do what?” he demanded, his voice raised.

“How could you
kill him
?”

“I didn't kill him!” Lars shouted. Barbie ignored him, burying her face once again in her hands, sobbing.

I was shocked to hear their exchange. I could feel the color draining from my face as I considered the possibility that Dr. Fitzgibbons had died at the hands of someone he knew.

I wondered if I should take it upon myself to get the kids off to school. Part of me knew it was a good idea to get them away from the scene outdoors, but part of me knew they would never be able to concentrate with the image of Dr. Fitzgibbons in their heads. In the end, I decided to stay in Marcus's room with them, opting not to send them to school. The police would be there soon and I assumed they would want to talk to everyone who was present around the time of Dr. Fitzgibbons's death, whenever that had been.

Indeed, it wasn't long before the police arrived. They ordered Lars, Barbie, and the household staff out of the way before they surrounded the lanai with yellow crime-scene tape and covered the body with a white sheet. Then they began their questioning. I watched the goings-on through the window. They started with Lars, leading him into the family room, and it was quite some time before they led him out again. Next it was Barbie's turn, then Akela, then the gardeners.

Eventually the police knocked on Marcus's bedroom door. I opened it.

The officer standing in the doorway started with me. “We'd like to ask you a few questions, miss.” I followed him to the family room, where I sat at a round table with him and another officer.

I told them everything I knew: That I had gone for a walk and come upon the scene when I heard screaming coming from the pool area. No, I hadn't heard any sound coming from the lanai before the screaming began. No, I hadn't seen Dr. Fitzgibbons the previous night.

Since the police didn't ask, I didn't mention that I had heard part of an argument between Lars and Barbie that was about Dr. Fitzgibbons.

As the officer's questioning of me was drawing to a close, another officer appeared in the doorway, escorting Marcus and Lars. Apparently, Lars would be permitted to sit in on Marcus's questioning.

I returned to Marcus's room, where Justine was lying face down on his bed. No one else was around. I was surprised that Barbie hadn't come looking for her yet.

“Justine? Can I get you anything?”

“No,” came the muffled reply. “I'm not hungry.”

“I didn't mean just food. Do you need a tissue or a glass of water or something from your room?”

She pushed herself into a seated position and looked at me from puffy, hooded eyes.

“Can I have a drink of water?”

I got her a drink from Marcus's bathroom and sat on the bed with her while she drank it. She drained the glass and hiccupped. “Will the police want to talk to me next?”

“Probably. I think they've talked to everyone else already.”

“Will Dad stay in there with me like he is with Marcus?”

“I don't know. But since they're letting your dad in with Marcus, I would think they'll let him in there with you too.”

She sighed. I couldn't tell if it was a sigh of relief or something else. I wondered what was going through her mind.

I couldn't even make sense of what was going through my own mind. Who could have killed Dr. Fitzgibbons? Why was he killed? I tried not to think of the harsh words that had been spoken between Lars and Barbie last night. I wondered what Dr. Fitzgibbons's last thoughts had been. I wondered about the person who had spoken to him last.

Was it Lars? Did the two men argue about Barbie?

Or was it Barbie? Did she have a fight with Dr. Fitzgibbons?

I was letting my imagination run away with me. There wasn't even any proof that the doctor had been killed. Maybe he hit his head and lost consciousness before he died. Maybe he was drunk. Maybe he was sick. The possibilities were endless.

I squeezed Justine's hand and stood up as another police officer came into Marcus's room. This officer was a woman. She knelt down in front of the bed and spoke gently to Justine.

“I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes about Dr. Doug,” she began.

“Okay,” Justine said timidly.

“Would you come with me into the family room? Your dad is in there and he can sit with you while I ask you some quick questions.”

Justine took the officer's hand and accompanied the woman out of the room. I hesitated a moment before going back to the kitchen to make breakfast for everyone. I wanted to be close by in case Marcus came back and needed someone to talk to, but on the other hand, I didn't want to seem too eager and force myself on him. I decided that if he wanted to talk to me, he knew where he could find me.

Once I was cooking again, some of the stress and horror of the morning was pushed to the back of my mind. I prepared a big buffet breakfast for everyone who was around, including Lars and Barbie and the kids, as well as Akela, the gardeners, and any of the police officers who might want something. That was one of the best things about cooking: I could lose myself in preparing meals, not stopping to worry about what was going on around me. It was exactly what I needed at that moment.

During the next hour I prepared a feast for breakfast. For once I didn't care about fat or calories or carbohydrates. I made huevos rancheros, sticky rice, fruit salad, and Portuguese sausage. I set everything out on the dining table on the lanai and went in search of people who were probably hungry. Eventually everyone but the police filed one-by-one and helped themselves to the meal. It was still fairly early in the morning.

Justine wandered into the kitchen after a while, looking lost.

“Did you get breakfast?”

She nodded, her shoulders drooping and her mouth turned down at the corners. “Would you like to help me in the kitchen today since you're not going to school? Cooking always helps me when I'm under stress or feeling sad.”

“Okay,” she said with a sigh.

I found an old apron of mine in my room and tied it behind her back. “What would you like to make?” I asked her.

She looked around, as if she didn't know her way around the kitchen. “I don't know,” she answered. “What can we make?”

“Anything you'd like. We can get lunch started, or we can make something fun for dessert tonight, or we can make something special to give to your teacher.”

“Hmmm. Let's make something for dessert.”

“Okay. Do you have anything in mind or would you like to look through my cookbooks?”

“I want to see your cookbooks.”

I led her into my den and Meli immediately got up from her sunny place on the floor, stretched, and came up to Justine, purring and rubbing her nose against her leg. Justine smiled tremulously as she ran her hand across Meli's sleek, warm back.

“I love your cat. Mom doesn't like cats very much.”

“I keep her in my rooms so that she doesn't bother your mom. It's very nice of her to let me keep Meli here.”

Justine nodded and took the first book I handed to her. I showed her where the dessert section was and she began thumbing slowly through the pages. Each of the recipes was accompanied by a picture, so she could have a look at the finished product.

After she had leafed through the pages, she looked up at me expectantly. “Do you have any more cookbooks?”

I laughed. “You'd be amazed at how many cookbooks I have. Lots of them are at my mom and dad's house, but I have quite a few on my shelves here too.” I selected a few for her and returned to the kitchen while she perused the lists of goodies.

I was crouched down, looking for a Dutch oven, when Akela came in. “Kailani, there's someone here to see you.”

“Who is it?”

“He didn't give his name. He's waiting at the end of the driveway. The police wouldn't let him come up to the house, so one of them came to escort you.”

I followed Akela to the front door, where an officer stood waiting. He explained that he and his partner could not allow anyone on the property and said he would take me to see my visitor. We walked in silence to the end of the driveway. Another officer was stationed by the large gate, and on the other side of it a tall man in shorts and a T-shirt stood with his back to me. Even before he turned around I knew who it was.

“Geoffrey? What are you doing here?” I asked, incredulous. I had only emailed him a couple times since leaving Washington, and none of those emails had included an invitation to visit or the location of my new job. I opened the gate slowly.

He turned to look at me, a big grin spread across his face. “Surprise!” He came forward and gave me a big hug. I pushed myself away gently.

“I can't believe you're here! What made you decide to come all the way to Hawaii?”

“You! What else?” I stole a glance at the officers, who were politely looking in the other direction.

“Wow. I'm flattered. I wish you'd told me you were coming, because I could have met you at the airport or something.” I faltered, searching for the right thing to say. I thought he had realized that I didn't want to see him anymore. That he wasn't part of my life in Hawaii the way he had been in Washington.