Chapter 6
2012 Words
On the way to the office, I dropped by to see Xavier (I preferred Xavier to “A”, which I"d recently learned meant “new house or bright”).
Seated at the desk with long legs outstretched, he was focused on a 24” LED TV positioned in a combination cabinet-bookcase. A local news station was featuring a breaking story about a three-alarm strip-mall fire on the North Shore.
“Can"t get enough of me?” he winked.
“Never,” I winked in return. “I was heading to the agency and figured I might as well drop in instead of calling.”
“There"s not much new. Franklin"s come down with a twenty-four-hour bug. James-Henri has disappeared, but I believe it"s because he"s devastated by what"s happened. Even if he and Carlos had an "ugly" break-up, he has to be feeling the loss.” He stretched his arms and arched strong shoulders. “Jester and I keep playing telephone tag.”
I told him about Crispy"s call. “On this end, Rey has left a few messages for James-Henri and an associate is working on Carlos" financial information. I"m going to see what I can find out about Victim #2, also known as Mary-Louise Crabtree. Given a very dicey past, she"d had to have a few enemies, which would explain why she wasn"t using her real name or known aliases. Maybe one of them chose to get even that evening and Carlos happened to be in the way.”
The tall, attractive man frowned. “Possibly, but they weren"t exactly found in the same room. Let me walk you to the agency. I could do with some fresh air.”
Before we could leave, Cindy entered with a handsomely gift-wrapped bottle and Twinkie at her feet, sporting a sequined top hat and bow tie. She greeted us with a toothy smile. “A courier just dropped this off.”
Xavier looked at the dog and chuckled. “You really are the President"s pet.”
“Only because he believes they"re good for company morale and happens to own five Twinkies himself.”
“And lucky for Valance Connors, the real Twinkie adores him.”
realCindy tossed back long, loose auburn hair, her laughter sounding like a high-pitched, ringing triangle.
Crouching, Xavier coaxed the Pomeranian and Twinkie raced forward, flopping at his feet in anticipation of a tummy rub.
“He"s pretty fond of you, too.”
“Me and dogs, we got an understanding.” With a chuckle, he reached for the gift, and unwrapped it. “A 1976 Chateau de Millet Vintage Bas Armagnac. Impressive.”
1976 Chateau de Millet Vintage Bas Armagnac.I stepped alongside as he opened a small embossed card that read: I hear you"re good at what you do, Mr. Adjuster. Let"s see how good. Salud.
I hear you"re good at what you do, Mr. Adjuster. Let"s see how good. Salud.“A new girlfriend?” Cindy asked with a blithe smile.
He smirked. “There aren"t any new ones.”
I smiled drolly. “Then an old one?”
He took another look at the card, shrugged, and tossed it into a tray. Placing the bottle on the desk, he dropped onto the sofa. His furry fan hopped onto his lap.
“Oh, your pyro pal called.”
“Yeah?”
“He"s weird.”
He chuckled. “And?”
“He recalled a case five years ago where a Kahala gallery was torched. The owner was found dead by his desk.”
Xavier and I exchanged uneasy glances, and I asked, “Did he sustain a head injury, as if he fell and hit his head?”
She looked surprised. “Are you mind reading? Or is history repeating itself?”
He sat rod-straight, prompting the Pomeranian to jump off. “Was the guy murdered?”
Cindy looked from Xavier to me and back again. “He"d been drinking and smoking, and passed out. One thing led to another. It was deemed an accident.”
“Drinking and smoking and passing out, sadly, are not that unique a chain of events,” I stated. “Why did "Pyro Pal" believe this one was worth mentioning?”
“The owner was partners with James-Henri Ossature before he partnered with Carlos.” Cindy"s expression grew grim. “Or should I say, re-partnered?”
re* * *
After leaving Xavier at Maunakea Marketplace, eyeing abalone as possible dinner fare, I parked near Ala Moana and Ward, and called Rey.
“… That"s what he told Cindy.”
Sitting behind the steering wheel of a new r****h-red Jeep Wrangler, I adjusted the audio; my cousin sounded as if she were talking into a tin can attached to a long string. (My lovely Nissan Cube, alas, had been “decubed”, thanks to a bomb blast during our last case when one psychopath took out another.) “Why don"t the three of us drive to James-Henri"s?”
“Linda called to say she"ll be delayed,” Rey advised over the phone.
“Until?”
“Unknown.”
Linda had been evasive about the morning errand. Was there a new beau perhaps? Given her recent men-are-jerks rants, unlikely. So what was she up to? “Be at the southwest corners of Bethel and S Pauahi in five. You and I"ll head over.”
“I"ll pack Tasers.”
* * *
It was close to half past eleven when Rey and I parked six doors down from James-Henri"s four-bedroom Mediterranean-style house in Portlock. The upscale locality, fairly close to Honolulu and Waikiki, had amazing views of Diamond Head, Maunalua Bay, and the Kahala coastline.
Why hadn"t anyone heard from the gallery owner? Was he upset over his ex-partner"s death and seeking solitude? Or because he was responsible for his ex-partner"s death and avoiding contact?
“That puppy had to set him back a couple of mill.”
“At the very least.” I scanned a well-landscaped 5,000-square-foot property situated a few yards from the beach.
“We should buy a house.”
I eyed my cousin as if she"d grown a third eye.
“Why not? You, Linda and I are almost always together and the pets would love grass to run around on. And a pool and lanai would be nice for relaxing and entertaining.”
“Hawaii doesn"t allow for lotteries,” I said dryly. “And we"d need to win big to afford a house with a pool.”
big“It"s not that impossible—hey!” She punched my thigh and nodded.
A very toned, bald man of medium height dressed in various shades of white peered left and right, then forward and behind. Finally, he hastened past dense-foliaged Alahee that lined a narrow walkway from front to rear.
“Where"s Mr. Egghead headed?” She started to open the passenger door.
“Hang on!” Noticing an adjacent side street several yards over, I whipped the Jeep around faster than you could say “torcher” five times.
Rey woo-hooed as I gunned it like Domenic Fast & Furious Toretto engaging in the street race of his life.
Fast & FuriousStopping at the end of the next street, we saw our man in white dive into an onyx-black Jaguar XK. The female driver"s face was obscured by huge vintage Chanel sunglasses and a silky scarf draped around the head. A slender unlit cigarette lay perched in the center of a glossy, full lips.
Like a bat out of hell, the handsome Jag shot ewa (or west as they would say on Oahu, designating the direction of Ewa Beach).
ewaKeeping the vehicle in sight, I asked my cousin if she was up for an adventure.
“Always, Cousin Jilly, always. Hit the gas, honey-bun; we don"t want to lose the prey.”
* * *
“Why do you suppose he"s not returned calls?” Rey asked as we followed the Jag along Kapiolani, five cars behind. “Guilt? Sadness? A combination of?”
“Only he can answer that.”
“Who"s the woman looking very Audrey Hepburn?”
“The same one I"ve seen twice already.”
“But who is she?”
who“Your guess is—”
“As good as mine, yeah.”
“Xavier mentioned a half sister. Maybe that"s her.”
“From what little I"ve seen, there"s absolutely no resemblance. James-Henri has a dumpling nose and a donut-round face.”
“And he has hazel eyes while hers are powder-blue,” I added. “I did say "maybe".”
“She"s certainly very attractive. And that designer red lipstick is awesome.”
The sporty car pulled into one of three empty spaces before a row of unexceptional townhouse-condos near Ward and Prospect. Most had once been dusty pink and were now just plain dusty. I maneuvered into a parking spot on the street.
Rey scanned stores and checked her cell. “That"s Carlos" place.”
“Really?” I looked at her, surprised. “How do you know?”
“Gail emailed just before you picked me up. She told me she"d be researching the two as soon as she got home, but had done some preliminary stuff and came across this address. Given his background and everything, she found it weird.” She appeared perturbed. “Not what you"d expect a successful gallery owner-s***h-consultant to live in, is it?”
“He did have financial issues according to Ald.”
She gestured the duo. “They don"t appear to want to do much but yak and watch.”
“Maybe they know we"re back here.”
“Then why stop?”
“You got me,” I replied with a fleeting smile, keeping a vigilant eye on the two lest they shot off again.
“He must have a key.”
I concurred.
“It"s odd that Carlos lived here and James-Henri there. I mean, they were lovers, at least until recently. I can"t imagine one allowing the other to live in such a … a blah place.”
“Blah?” I grinned.
“Ugly. Cheap. It"s not in keeping with the lifestyle or persona he was projecting.”
“You mean successful gallery owner?” I asked dryly, noting that neither sportscar occupant appeared anxious or concerned.
successfulRey grunted into her cell when taiko drumming announced a call. “We got James-Henri and an Audrey Hepburn wannabe in sight. What"s up? You at the office?” She glanced at me and shrugged. After a few uh-huhs, she disconnected. “Lindy-Loo wants us to head home when we"re able.”
“Is she all right?”
“She"s something, that"s for sure,” my cousin replied flatly and gestured. “Our prey aren"t doing much.”
“Either are we,” I said regretfully.
“To hell with that.” With Reynalda Fonne-Werde melodramatic (reckless) flair, my cousin sprang from the Jeep and strode purposefully to the Jag.
Three minutes later, she returned with an expression wavering between triumph and self-satisfaction. “James-Henri"ll meet us at two at a coffee house on Bishop just off Queen. Cholla, his "sister", will not.” My cousin smiled haughtily. “That gal"s a stunner and f"g snooty. That Borgia ring you mentioned looks like the real deal. And those diamond studs have to be four carats. Besides a slight but obvious French accent, she likes to throw around French phrases like bien sûr and c"est pareil.”
bien sûrc"est pareil“Is her accent as real as Ekeka"s British one?” I asked drolly.
“It sounds legit.” She swung into the passenger"s seat. “Let"s see what James-Henri has to say when we grill him.”
“So, Cous, do tell: what are they doing here?”
are“Deciding if they should enter Carlos" place to grab something.”
“Such as?”
“A little noir book.”
noir
- Writer
