Vacations Can Be Murder: The Second Charlie Parker Mystery Read online

  I thought about Gilbert Page, a man with a temper, apparently generous with money, reminiscent of a slick TV personality.

  The waiter brought my salad. He was a good looking blond guy, no more than twenty-two or -three, probably working this and two other jobs to afford the lifestyle in paradise. I watched people while I finished my salad, an interesting mixture of greens, topped with a tangy sweet-and-sour mango dressing.

  A couple about my age circle the pool, hand in hand. They looked like honeymooners. I let myself wonder what it would be like to have someone I planned to spend my whole life with. I’d made it through my first thirty years without a partner. Adding someone now might feel really strange.

  The lobster arrived just then, and it seemed like a better thing to devote my time to than worrying over biological clocks and retirement plans.

  Anyway, thoughts about the dead Gilbert Page wouldn't seem to leave me alone. After dinner I would try once again to reach Drake Langston.

  It was a little before nine when I got back to the room.

  "Hi, Charlie. I got in just a bit ago," he replied to my greeting. He didn't seem surprised to hear from me.

  "Have you had dinner yet?" I asked.

  "Yeah, I grabbed a burger, and ate it on the way home. In fact, I just stepped out of the shower."

  I tried to suppress the image that flashed before me. "How about coffee? I've learned a few things about our dead man."

  "Give me thirty minutes to throw some clothes on and get down there. I'll meet you at the top of the escalator."

  Drake looked just as good to me in an aloha shirt of muted colors and white slacks as he had earlier in the day. I watched him enter the lobby; he smiled quickly at an elderly couple and flashed a “hang loose” sign at the bellman before he saw me standing near the escalator.

  Again, that dazzling smile as his eyes coursed appreciatively over my attire. He placed a gentle hand on my elbow as we walked back through the lobby. His white Datsun mini-pickup was parked out front.

  "Did you have a particular place in mind?" he asked.

  "I'm not familiar with anything here, so you lead the way."

  We drove through a maze of winding narrow roads, without leaving the hotel grounds, stopping in front of a place called the Inn on the Cliffs.

  Inn on the Cliffs was more like the sitting room in some incredibly wealthy person's mansion than a restaurant. Comfortable groupings of furniture clustered around a large fireplace. Gas logs glowed, taking the nip out of the ocean breeze that came through the double doors leading to a small lanai. We settled into wing chairs upholstered in a pattern of little flowers.

  A three piece group played soft love songs from the forties and fifties.

  A blond waitress in a short ruffled skirt brought a dessert tray by, and I couldn't resist the treacherous-looking chocolate torte. Drake was a bit more restrained with his choice of fruit strudel.

  I related to him what I'd learned that afternoon.

  "I'm impressed," he said, pouring a whirl of cream from a silver pitcher onto the surface of his coffee. "I don't think the police even have the identity of the man yet.

  It was fairly clear to me that the guy died from a blow to the head, whether inflicted by a person, or by falling out there on the Na Pali, I couldn't say for sure. I didn't see any footprints around the guy, no blood on the ground or the rocks, but it just wasn't a normal place for someone to be walking."

  "So maybe he was hit on the head somewhere else, and dumped there?" I mumbled the words through a mouthful of thick chocolate.

  He shrugged. "We took the body to Kauai General Hospital, and I'm pretty sure Akito is ordering an autopsy.

  "Jack Akito is the officer assigned to the case. I think you should go talk to him in the morning, Charlie. They need all the help they can get around here."

  He accented the words by jabbing his fork into the air.

  I let the comment go, busying myself with a sip of coffee. There's no more unwelcome feeling than you get when involving yourself in a police case where you know more than they do. I haven't seen a cop yet who warms up to such a situation.

  We sat awhile longer, enjoying the music and the warmth from the fireplace. I noticed that Drake seemed to be a little tired around the edges, so I suggested we leave.

  "Guess I better," he agreed. "I'm flying again tomorrow."

  There was a three-quarter moon out as we strolled across the parking lot toward his truck. The smell of plumeria filled the air. I found it incredibly romantic. It took a tangible force of will not to reach out and touch him.

  I wondered whether he noticed.

  We drove back to the main entrance, each intent on our own thoughts. Our silence was comfortable as we strolled through the upper lobby and rode the escalator down.. He walked me across the thick Oriental rug in the lower lobby, past the richly polished teak front desk, over to the elevators. He offered to see me up to my room, but I knew he was also anxious to get some sleep, so I declined.

  "After tomorrow, I have four days off," he said. "Can I call you?"

  I nodded. He squeezed my hand, and stepped onto the escalator. I watched the moving stairs carry him upward before I headed toward the elevators.

  In my room, I found my bed turned down and an orchid on my pillow.

  Chapter 4

  Jack Akito reacted to my news just about the way I expected he would.

  He was a middle-aged man who obviously had very Oriental ideas about a woman's place, and it wasn't in his police station.

  I had squeezed the rental car into the last available space in the parking lot, beside the cinderblock building. The place was one story, painted blotchy off-yellow, about the color of dried urine. Orange scallops decorated the base of the building, where the sprinklers had splattered rusty red earth up on the walls. Some scrawny ti plants attempted to survive the wind that whipped them against the cinderblock.

  A couple of women sat on the concrete steps, possibly waiting for visiting hours to begin. A uniformed officer stood outside the front door. He lit up a cigarette just as I passed him. I almost held my breath, but he turned away from me to exhale.

  It had taken fifteen minutes to get escorted back to Akito's desk. Now I felt like I was stuck in the Oriental version of a Mexican standoff.

  "I am sorry, madam, but a murder investigation here on Kauai is no concern of yours," Akito told me.

  He remained as polite, as smooth-faced, and as unwavering as a block wall. His dark uniform looked stifling to me in the heavy humid air, but he seemed unaffected. Every crease held its shape, and his tie was knotted precisely. His badge hung perfectly straight. His narrow eyes never wavered.

  The Caucasian officer at the adjoining desk was obviously an old timer in the department. I noticed him watching our exchange. Although his stripes indicated his rank was lower than Akito's, he butted right in.

  "Listen sweetie," he interjected, "we know our jobs here, and when we want advice from an outsider, we'll ask for it."

  His tactfulness certainly left something to be desired. I couldn't believe the nerve of the guy. Actually, I couldn't believe Akito let the remarks pass.

  I gritted my teeth. I have a real problem with being called sweetie, honey, baby, or dearie. Especially when it comes from a man who's too old to be my boyfriend and too young to be my father. If my eyeballs could emit laser beams, his throat would have been in mortal danger.

  I forced the corners of my mouth upward, but my teeth refused to unclench.

  Akito sat, implacable.

  "Fine," I said, working to keep my voice a monotone. "I came here because Drake Langston thinks I have information you could use."

  Officer Rudeness piped in again. "Oh, he does, huh? What could a helicopter pilot and a little haole tourist know about this?"

  "We know more about it than you do at this point."

  I fought to keep my voice level. I could feel my neck getting hot, my self control slipping. "If you want my help, I'm willing to g
ive it." I stared at the rude one. "If not, then personally, I don't give a damn what you do."

  I turned to leave and saw Akito swallow a couple of times, quickly. His eyes widened slightly as he took a deep breath.

  "Wait." I could tell by the tone that it was killing his manly pride to utter the word.

  I turned slowly, and zoomed him with the laser beam eyes again.

  "Miss... Parker," he began, emerging from behind his desk. "Your friend is right. We welcome information from citizens which might help us solve a crime."

  Akito looked rather pitiful. He was struggling not to grovel.

  The other officer was shifting from one foot to the other. Akito's turn-around let him know that his own remarks would come back to haunt him later. I kept my distance. It took a real force of will to unclench my teeth.

  "His name is Gilbert Page. He's registered at the Westin." I turned toward the door again. "And you can damn well find out the rest on your own."

  My heart was pounding as I got back to my car, and my hand had a hard time fitting the key into the ignition. The tires chirped as I jammed the car into reverse.

  By the time I had swung out of my parking space, and into the traffic on Umi Street, I realized that I was in no condition to drive. I found a shady spot in the parking lot of the public library a block away, and pulled in.

  I turned off the ignition with shaky fingers, took a deep breath, and rested my forehead on the steering wheel.

  Smart, Charlie. Real smart.

  I hate scenes. Flashes of my parents screaming at each other bounced back at me. Why had I taken the bait? Why hadn't I let him save face, condescend a bit, then let me tell my story?

  Because I'm quick to get defensive, I guess. Growing up with two older brothers constantly picking on me, it just seemed to come naturally.

  I pushed the button to lower the convertible top, and pulled my hair up to let the breeze cool the back of my neck. Why had I shot back that last remark?

  It's not smart to antagonize a cop. Now I'd probably pissed him off, and he'd drag me in for questioning.

  Well—day two of my vacation.

  I closed my eyes for a couple of minutes, forcing my mind to go blank. I was breathing better now, and decided I couldn't let the whole day fall apart.

  It wasn't yet noon. I'd go back to the hotel, grab my beach stuff, and try to make up for lost time. That way, if the golden dragon did decide to haul me in, at least I would have managed one day of sunshine on the trip.

  The message light on my phone was blinking when I got in. Drake Langston, wondering if I was free for dinner.

  I left a message with Melanie at Paradise's office that yes, I was. Things were starting to look up.

  I flipped through the hangers in the closet. Yes, the emerald green silk would do for tonight. It was a good blend of classy and naughty. The color always looked good with my dark auburn hair, and it brought out the green in my eyes.

  I ran my fingers through my hair. Maybe I should try to do something with it, set it or something. But, with the humidity here, it would just be straight again in no time. I decided not to bother. Those details out of the way, I put on my bikini and a big shirt, and gathered sunscreen, glasses and my book.

  Between the hoard of teenagers whooping it up at the volleyball net, and the family with three gooey-faced shriekers, the beach lost some of its appeal. Besides, I wasn't sure I relished the idea of more sand in the suit. Lounge chairs and cold drinks sounded better, so I opted for the pool instead.

  There were probably two hundred people present, whose lounge chairs circled the freeform pool like cars at the drive-in theater. Even so, there were whole sections unoccupied. I prefer my Tom Clancy undisturbed, so I snagged a waiter, ordered a mai tai and pointed out a nearly empty section.

  The pool was a winding thing which circled a little island containing more lounge chairs and a few palm trees. I watched a hunky guy with a great set of lungs swim the whole thing under water. He only had to come up for air three times.

  The hotel’s buildings surrounded the pool area on three sides, the other side being the opening to the beach. The whole courtyard was ringed by a colonnade with fat white pillars holding up its roof. Under this roof, the non sun-lovers could sink back into cushy upholstered couches and chairs, and get the feeling they were at the pool without taking any chances.

  Periodically, the white pillars veered from their orderly circle to bulge out and form the roof for a bubbling hot tub. I counted five such cauldrons.

  All this nudged nicely into an area slightly smaller than three football fields. I realized I better keep close count of the mai tais or I wouldn't have the stamina for the hike back to the elevators.

  Three chapters into Clancy, I flipped from my back onto my tummy, and three chapters later figured I better exit. It would not do to let a massive sunburn ruin the evening. I switched to a chair in the shade, and did a slow cool down before going inside.

  Back in my room, I indulged in a soothing shower and a short nap before slipping on the green dress. By six o’clock I was ready to meet Drake in the lobby.

  He was handsome as ever in a different print shirt and white slacks, which I gathered was standard attire here, anytime day or night.

  After ascertaining that I was game for almost any kind of food, he took me to the Japanese Tea House. Except for the bar just inside the front door, it was built like a real Japanese house, or as close to one as I've ever seen.

  A series of small rooms, open on one side, faced into a small courtyard garden where small paths led over miniature bridges to scaled-down groupings of plants. The other three walls were those kind that look like lightweight wooden frames with paper stretched over them. Surprisingly, it felt very private.

  The table was low with cushions on the floor around it. My old stretched knee ligament groaned at the sight. But, the seating was a trick. There was a pit under the table which allowed us to sit at floor level with our legs under the table, as if we were in chairs. My opinion of Officer Akito's forebears rose several points.

  We shared small talk over a plate of sushi appetizers. Drake was in a good mood, I gathered because he now had four days off. I related the gist of my meeting with the police, leaving out a few of the choicer words.

  "Akito's got it in for the helicopter operators, anyway," he told me. "He's probably just pissed that we're the ones who found the body."

  "But, why? You helped make his job a little easier, is all."

  "Loss of face. It's important here."

  I pondered that.

  "Besides," he continued, "Akito and Mack had a run-in a few years ago. I don't even remember what it was about now. Mack and I were friends, but it was before I came to work for him. Whatever it was though, the wound is still festering. Believe me, there is no love lost between those two."

  "Well, I can see Mack's side of it. Akito is not exactly a warm and friendly kind of guy. I'd just as soon not have my encounter at the police station be my strongest memory of my week on Kauai."

  His eyes held mine with a tangible firmness. The candlelight softened his features, and illuminated his smile. I swallowed hard. Suddenly a week wasn't long enough, even if we could have magically created seventy-two hour days.

  "Tell me about Charlie Parker," he said, easing us away from a very intense moment.

  "Charlotte Louise Parker was born in Albuquerque, New Mexico, thirty years ago. I was the youngest of three, and the only girl. In a situation like that, I suppose I could have grown up fluffy and spoiled, but with two brothers as my influence, it didn’t work out that way. I was a tough little tomboy.”

  I caught him glancing at the low-cut neckline on my dress. He smiled. I cleared my throat.

  “Seems like you outgrew the tomboy stage pretty well,” he commented.

  I could feel a red flush creep up my face. I pulled my square wooden chopsticks from the wrapper, and rubbed them together between my palms.

  "My brothers are okay now, you
understand. They were just normal boys. Paul is married. Lives in Phoenix. Ron is my partner in the agency. They're both good guys. I think they took out all their childhood aggressions on me."

  He chuckled. "I know. I guess I was the same way with my sister. What about your parents?"

  "My father was a physicist at Sandia labs. My mother was a country-clubber whose family never let her forget that she had married way beneath them. To them, even a scientist with a PhD was still a working slob. Mother and Dad were killed in a plane crash".

  He started to say something sympathetic, but I didn't give him the chance.

  "I was sixteen, and I suppose I should have been traumatized by it, but truthfully, the silence was kind of nice. They left me the house, and enough money to get by on."

  I didn't think it was the time to tell him that "enough" meant a good sized portfolio of blue chip stocks. Guys' personalities tend to undergo radical changes when they find out you have a little nest egg. I helped myself to two more tempura shrimp and another spoonful of some wonderfully gingery vegetable dish.

  "So now you investigate things for supplemental income, or just for the sheer fun of it?"

  "Some of each, I guess." I related the story of how I'd saved Mrs. Higgins from her insurance agent. "She's like a grandmother to me. Watches out for me like I was her own, and she takes care of Rusty for me when I travel."

  "Rusty? Your child?"

  "My dog."

  He smiled at that.

  I told him a little about Rusty, and what a softie he really is. The garden outside our little cubicle was quiet, softly lit along its pathways. Miniature plants circled a small pond whose waterfall flowed soothingly. Drake’s eyes met mine and I had a strong sense that the attraction between us was mutual.

  "I've only come close to matrimony once." I confessed. "I was engaged to my college sweetheart, Brad North. Two weeks before the wedding, he eloped with my best friend, Stacy. They live in a great big house in the most exclusive part of town. Brad's a lawyer now. She drives a Mercedes, wears hunks of diamonds on both hands, belongs to the country club, and looks absolutely terrified whenever dear old Brad walks into the room. He’s put on thirty pounds since I knew him; she has chronic dark circles under her eyes, and I hear she practically lives on Valium. I shudder to think how close I came to having all that."