Sinking Suspicions Page 5

  He squirmed in his seat as thoughts of Sadie surfaced. She was never far from his mind. The woman had done something to him, something he simultaneously adored and hated. She had taught him the meaning of love, and the mere thought of living without her made his stomach churn. He'd had that feeling only once before in his life. It had ended very badly, and he'd promised himself he'd never be trapped by another. But here he was—in love again. It had happened before he'd had time to squash it like a bug under the heel of his boot. He tried to push her to the back of his mind as he drove.

  Lance continued north through Jay and turned back east, still on Highway 20. In less than twenty minutes he was in Sycamore Springs, the place where he'd become a seasoned police officer under the guidance of Charlie McCord.

  The population of Sycamore Springs had been shrinking for the last several years, and he guessed it was now home to no more than a couple thousand people, some white, some Hispanic, with a large number of Indians mixed in, mostly Cherokees. Poverty had overtaken the small town. The main industry was simply chickens—chicken houses and one large chicken processing plant.

  Lance drove through the main part of town and parked next to four other farm trucks in front of the Waffle House. He had fond memories of the small restaurant, a daily meeting place of the local police officers. This would be where his friend Charlie McCord said he'd be, waiting for retirement day to arrive.

  Lance got out and went into the restaurant and scanned the crowd for Charlie or anyone else he knew. No luck. He sat at the end of the counter where he could see the entire restaurant without effort.

  “Eating or just drinking, honey?” The middle-aged waitress looked as if she'd lived a harsh life, one where hard work had stolen her youth sooner than it should have.

  “Coffee. Black.”

  She slid a mug in front of him and filled it with steaming coffee. Lance turned and surveyed the parking lot again.

  “Male or female?” she said.

  Lance grinned. “Charlie McCord said he'd meet me here.”

  “Oh, honey, you're going to have a long wait.” She wiped the counter with a wet cloth. “He stormed out of here over thirty minutes ago. Turned on those flashing lights of his and tore off toward the chicken plant. Doubt he'll be back very soon.”

  A bell dinged in the kitchen window and the waitress turned to retrieve a plate of food and deliver it to a corner booth. Lance sipped his coffee for a moment, then dropped a couple of bills on the counter and left.

  Before Lance arrived at the Sisson Farms chicken plant at the south edge of town, he could see the flashing lights in the distance. He pulled in, parked near the gate, and got out of his truck. He could see Charlie leaning against his cruiser, writing on a clipboard. The strained buttons on Charlie's shirt indicated he'd been spending a little too much time at the Waffle House, and Lance thought he could detect a short-timer's attitude in the expression on his face. He knew Charlie's approaching retirement couldn't arrive soon enough.

  Charlie looked up and grinned when he saw Lance. Lance walked over and shook hands with his friend. “Hey, Keem-o-sabi, how goes it?”

  “Good to see you, Tonto. This is your lucky day.”

  Lance laughed at the familiar exchange while Charlie opened his car door and dropped the clipboard on the dashboard.

  “Oh, yeah? Lucky how?” Lance said.

  “You said you were looking for someone named Skinner. Right?”

  “That's right. Ben Skinner. Goes by Buck. Only been missing for a day, but his niece is pretty worried about him.”

  “Well, I've got bad news for that little niece of his. I've got me a dead man in there and his killer has been identified as one Benjamin Skinner.”

  “No way.” Lance couldn't hide the surprise in his voice. “What happened?”

  “Evidently, he showed up here early this morning ranting about something, got into a scuffle with one of the workers, and instead of gutting a chicken, he gutted one of the employees.”

  Lance realized his mouth was gaping. “Are you sure we're talking about the same Buck Skinner?”

  “Come on into the main office with me. The woman who identified him on the security camera videotape says she knows him pretty well.”

  Lance followed Charlie into the office, where two women sat hunkered around a small desk, gripping coffee cups. Their ashen faces reflected shock. A man stood looking through a huge plate-glass window at the interior of the plant, where two conveyor belts continued to move without a chicken in sight.

  Charlie introduced Lance, then turned to one of the women and spoke.

  “Ma'am, we're going to need to get your statement. Do you want to come down to the office or do you want to do it here?”

  “I've already told you everything I know. An employee noticed the side door was ajar. When she tried to get in, she found the body. Several people heard her scream.”

  The woman hesitated and Charlie urged her to continue.

  “I was standing outside the office door on the ledge that overlooks the workers.” She pointed through the large window at a catwalk that encircled the large room. “It was just as the morning shift was coming on. I heard a ruckus and then I saw Benny running out the back door. Right over there.” She pointed through the window again at an exit on the opposite side of the building.

  “Benny?” asked Lance.

  “His name is Ben Skinner, but everyone calls him Benny.”

  “How do you know Benny?” Lance asked.

  The woman looked surprised at the question. “Everyone knows Benny. He used to work here and comes around all the time.”

  Charlie stepped in. “Do you know where we can find him?”

  The woman let out a long sigh. “He hangs out with a woman who lives in the Vista Trails Trailer Park over by the river.”

  Lance looked at Charlie as they moved quickly toward the door. “Mind if I ride along?”

  Chapter 7

  Sadie began to feel a sense of urgency, with the small voice in the back of her head churning out thoughts of home. Even in this magnificent place, she would never be able to relax and enjoy herself if she couldn't let go of the events going on back in Oklahoma.

  When she reached Haycraft Park, she stood under the open shower and allowed the cool water to run over her body, rinsing the sand off her legs, feet, and rubber flip-flops. Water squished onto the pavement with each step until she reached her condo and parked her slippers by the front door. She let herself in and immediately peeled out of her bathing suit, leaving it where it fell on the bathroom floor while she hurriedly took a shower.

  Less is more, she thought, as she dressed in a plain pink summer dress and a new pair of white sandals, and then sat down on the couch to detangle her long black hair. The walk had revived her spirit, brought things into focus. As soon as she finished her meeting, she'd see if she could catch an earlier flight home.

  After securing her hair at the nape of her neck with a beaded clip, she picked up her cell and flipped it open. The battery had regained enough life to tell her she had missed another call from Lance. She hit the speed dial for Lance's number and waited. A mechanical-sounding voice announced that all circuits were busy and she should try her call again at a later time. She sighed, dropped her phone into her purse, and walked out into the late morning sunshine. With map in hand, she was on her way to Kihei, which on the map appeared to merge into Wailea, that magical-sounding place on the other side of the bay.

  She drove her rental car out of Ma‘alaea, winding around the south-central part of the island, hugging the beach where she had walked earlier that day. Following the instructions the nice lady at the lobby reception desk had written down, she drove through an area identified on a sign as the Kealia Pond National Wildlife Refuge. The flat, muddy terrain triggered a childhood memory of an awful drought that had caused both her dad's ponds to dry up to little more than mud puddles. She remembered watching as her dad tirelessly pumped water from an underwater spring so the horses
would have fresh water to drink.

  The memory quickly faded as she turned right onto South Kihei Road and continued close to the shoreline, where she passed a fruit stand and noticed a man sitting on a mat carving huge wooden totem-like pieces. She made a mental note to return this way so she could take a closer look at his work. Carefully, she dodged a group of young surfers who had congregated near the road, making their way from their cars to the water.

  Before long, she arrived at her destination, the Azeka Mauka Shopping Center, where she easily spotted Playin' in Paradise Travel nestled in the corner of the L-shaped cluster of stores. She parked, checked her looks in the rearview mirror, smoothed a few loose strands of hair behind her ears, then got out and went in.

  Pua, the helpful woman from the airport, sat at the front desk. Under the office's fluorescent lights, she appeared to be somewhat older than Sadie had first thought—in her fifties, Sadie guessed—yet her flawless toffee-colored skin, accentuated by a colorful floral, slim-fitting dress, gave her a youthful appearance.

  “Miss Walela, it is so nice to see you again,” she said. “I trust you've been enjoying our island so far?”

  “Oh, yes.” Sadie beamed. “And now I know where you got the name for this company. This place truly is paradise.”

  The two women visited for several minutes before a young, good-looking man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and khaki slacks joined them and introduced himself as Richard Yamaguchi. In a few short minutes, the trio was walking across the parking lot to Stella Blues Cafe. Once again, Hawaiian music filled the air. Sadie loved the warm hospitable feeling it created.

  The hostess ushered them through the busy restaurant, walls covered with Grateful Dead and Jerry Garcia memorabilia, to an outside patio table where they all three indulged in the day's special—Caesar salad with grilled monchong, a fish Sadie had never heard of—and discussed Sadie's future as a travel agent. By the time they got to the mango ice-cream pie for dessert, Sadie felt so comfortable with her new business associates that she would have taken the job even before they offered the free bonus trip to Maui once a year. She was in. They returned to the travel office, where they sat and leisurely talked the afternoon away. Finally, Sadie signed a six-month agreement with an option to renew based on the original agreement she'd made with Jan.

  “Here's the orientation book,” Richard said as he smiled and they shook hands. “It will give you something to put you to sleep on the plane back to Oklahoma.”

  Pua stood and embraced Sadie with the customary hug of aloha.

  “If you have no other plans for today, I'd love to invite you to join me. My daughter is dancing hula at a nearby hotel in a few minutes. It's not far. I think you would enjoy it.”

  “I would love to.”

  Sadie left her car parked in front of the travel agency and rode with Pua. They traveled down South Kihei Road until the shops, restaurants, and condo buildings gave way to luxury homes and lavish golf courses, all lined with majestic palms and blooming flowers.

  “Is this Wailea?” Sadie asked.

  Pua looked at Sadie and smiled. “Yes,” she said. “Lots of expensive property here.”

  Sadie acknowledged with a nod and continued to absorb the passing scenery.

  Pua turned into the driveway of an extravagant hotel and pulled up to the front door, where two men in matching flowered shirts opened the car doors for both women and placed flower lei around their necks.

  “I could get used to this flower thing,” Sadie said as one of the attendants whisked Pua's car away to the parking area.

  Pua guided Sadie through an open-air lobby, across cool marble floors, and past towering exotic flower arrangements. Sadie tried not to gawk at what she was sure she would never in this lifetime be able to afford. A pang of guilt hit her as she thought of her modest home and her missing neighbor. Instead of enjoying paradise, she thought, she really should be making arrangements to get back home and help Lance find him.

  She followed Pua outside onto a manicured lawn where an area had been roped off and a long line of people waited for their turn at a buffet table covered with food. At the edge of a stage, between the lawn and the beach, Sadie saw a group of beautiful young women wearing white ankle-length dresses and long purple lei. Each girl had a large white flower over her right ear.

  Pua found two chairs at the edge of the crowd. “Wait here. I'll be right back.”

  While Sadie waited for Pua, she soaked in the beauty of the place. Out in the ocean, she could see the small horseshoe-shaped island, much closer than the view from her room, as well as the island behind it, whose name she still couldn't pronounce. Boats of all sizes floated by, and a few surfers sat on their boards waiting for the perfect wave to transport them to shore. Across the bay, the sun had begun to descend toward the ocean, something she hadn't been able to see the night before from her condo. Someone played a ukulele and sang a Hawaiian song in the background. The air had begun to cool, intensifying the fragrance of the nearby flowers that enveloped her senses. She loved this place.

  Sadie visually searched for Pua and found her in the midst of the young ladies near the stage. Pua stood out among the others, with a stately presence. One of the dancers turned and looked directly at Sadie, smiled, and waved. Her facial features, regal posture, and friendly smile bore a striking resemblance to Pua, convincing Sadie that the young girl must be Pua's daughter. These had to be the nicest people on earth, thought Sadie. A few minutes later, Pua returned and the rest of the crowd began to take their seats.

  A young man took the stage and sat near the end with a drum cradled between his knees. As the drummer played and chanted, the dancers filed across the stage with elegance and poise. They began to sing, chant, and sway in unison. Sadie had never seen hula dancers in real life, only those who appeared in movies with grass skirts and coconut bras. This was so much different. Their movements mesmerized her. The dancers epitomized beauty and grace, so unlike what she had imagined they would.

  Pua translated the Hawaiian words and the meaning of the movements for Sadie. The performance ended after four short numbers. As the crowd dispersed in all directions, Pua said, “Come with me. I want you to meet my daughter.”

  They walked across the lush grass to the smiling dancers. As Pua started to introduce Sadie, one of the young girls interrupted.

  “Oh, I'm so happy to meet you. My name is Usi.” She hugged Sadie and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Mom told me all about you. She said you're Cherokee. Is that right?”

  Sadie smiled. “Through and through.”

  “We have Cherokee blood, too,” the girl continued. “My great-grandmother was a Cherokee princess.”

  “Oh, really?” Sadie tried to keep a straight face. While it was true that Usi could easily pass as American Indian with her latte-colored skin and dark brown eyes, high cheekbones, and black hair, she thought if she heard that fraudulent claim from one more person she would scream. She wanted to sit down and explain to this sweet young lady that the Cherokee people had neither kings nor queens, therefore there had never been any princes or princesses. Instead she smiled and quietly said, “That's nice,” then turned the conversation. “Usi is a beautiful name. Is it Hawaiian?”

  “Oh, no. It's the name my grandfather used to call my grandmother. Her name is Lehua, but that was his pet name for her—Usi.” She looked at Pua. “It's Mom's middle name, too.” After a moment, the girl returned her attention to Sadie and added, “He died in the war.”

  “Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” Sadie said.

  The girl continued. “I know Tutu Lehua would love to meet you.”

  Sadie nodded. “I would be honored, but I only have a couple of days, and I may have to go home early—that is, if I can change my ticket. A friend of mine is missing, and I may need to help in the search. I'll be in touch with your mom, though.”

  Usi looked disappointed. “It was nice to meet you,” she said, then turned and rejoined the other dancers.

  “We
ll, that's about it for tonight,” Pua said. “I'll take you back to your car. I'm sure you're dying to start reading that orientation manual.”

  “If I'm not able to change my ticket right away and have time, I'd like to do some research about what it was like on Maui during World War II,” Sadie said.

  “Really?” Pua smiled. “Then how would you feel about a boat ride to the island of Lāna‘i?”

  “Lāna‘i?” Sadie looked surprised. “Why there?”

  “That's where Tutu lives. My mother,” she explained. “She's the best resource I can think of. She lived on Maui during the war. That's when she met my father.” Pua looked at Sadie. “Usi is right, you know. She would love to meet you.”

  “No kidding? How old is your mother now?”

  “She will be seventy-eight years old in a couple of months, but you'd never know it. She still teaches hula at the senior center once a week. She says it keeps her young. It's very good exercise, you know.”

  Sadie smiled. “She sounds delightful. Okay, I'll call you in the morning as soon as I find out about changing my flight.”

  The two women left the hotel and drove off into a starry night, leaving a tiny portion of paradise behind. Sadie was already in love with Maui.

  Chapter 8

  Lance ran to his truck, retrieved his Smith and Wesson, and jumped into Charlie's cruiser. They tore out of the chicken plant parking lot and back to town. They streaked down Main Street, then Charlie quickly turned west onto Creek Street, a short street that ended at the entrance of the Vista Trails Trailer Park. Charlie came to a stop next to a dirt path marked with a small arrow that read “office,” where he calmly rolled out of the cruiser, lumbered up to the front door of a small cottage, and rapped on the door.