“The tape didn’t extend to the entrance so I thought it would be okay.”
He stretched his arm and pointed to the doorway. “Please. Leave now.”
The older man turned toward me. “Do you have a question, ma’am?”
Ma’am? I turned around to see if my mother had sneaked up behind me. I was decades too young to be ma’amed.
“My brother, Dave Bingham, owns this restaurant. My family just heard the news about Keiki’s death and I was curious…”
The detective’s dark eyes shifted their gaze from my face to the rocks below. I couldn’t help but follow his glance. My heart flopped down to my flip-flops when I realized the beautiful dancer must have fallen over the wall on the opposite side of the restaurant, plummeting to her death.
I stared at the massive lava rocks rising out of the ocean churning below. Last night, a full moon had been shining on the huge waves crashing over their dark surface. The scene epitomized the magic of the tropics. Now the lava formations appeared sinister and threatening.
I rested my hand on a column for support. The officer gently removed it and asked me to step away from the wall. “We don’t need any more fingerprints in this area. There’s already way too many to sort through.”
“Of course, fingerprints are everywhere,” I replied. “My best friend held her wedding reception here yesterday. Our group partied until well after midnight.”
The two men exchanged glances. The older, informally dressed man guided me to a seat at one of the tables. I collapsed into the chair, my mind swirling with questions. He reached into his pants pocket and grabbed one of those dog-eared notepads all police officers seem to carry.
“My name is Detective Lee, with the Criminal Investigation Section of Hawaii P.D. Since you were here last night, you may be able to help with our inquiry. First, what is your name and how do you know the deceased?”
“I’m Laurel McKay.” I explained that Keiki performed with the dancers and helped wait on tables the previous evening. He asked me how long she’d worked at Daiquiri Dave’s and what time she left the restaurant last night. I didn’t know the answer to either question.
He
did not
ask me if she was sleeping with my brother, which was fortunate because I
definitely
did not know the answer to that question. But given Keiki’s fate, I sure would like to find out.
A loud male voice interrupted our conversation. At the entrance, Brian, with our entire party in his wake, argued with a female officer attempting to bar their entry. Even though this section of the restaurant wasn’t officially roped off, Detective Lee had indicated they didn’t want people traipsing around and leaving additional footprints in the smooth white sand.
But could the police accurately cast footprints from the shifting grains of sand?
The right pocket of my jeans shorts shrieked, startling me as well as the officers. I jumped up, dug into my pocket to retrieve my cell and looked at the display.
Regan. Finally. I breathed a sigh of relief as I hit the green answer button.
“Laurel, what’s wrong? Why did you––” The rest of her query was lost when an enormous wave crashed below. I moved away from the wall, attempted to increase the volume on my phone and accidentally hit the speaker button
“I’m at the Lounge. Did you hear the news about Keiki?”
The surf chose that moment to recede, leaving behind a silence as deafening as Regan’s next statement.
“I don’t want to hear another word about that conniving slut. She’s history to me!”
Sometimes technology sucks.
I slammed my thumb on the speaker button before Regan could convey additional uncensored remarks. The curious expression on Detective Lee’s face indicated he’d overheard more than enough.
I plastered my cell to my ear. Regan continued to mutter remarks about Keiki, so I finally raised my voice. “Stop and listen a minute. Where are you?”
“I’m at Koffee Land. That girl has always been a troublemaker. I told Dave we never should have hired her, but Walea pleaded with us to give her a job and––”
I finally shouted into the phone, “Keiki’s dead.”
If I’d expected Regan to be startled by my announcement, I was wrong. Dead wrong. The silence lasted for a few seconds before she finally responded. “What happened?”
“The police haven’t shared the details, but I think she fell over the wall and landed on the rocks below your restaurant.”
More silence. Was she paying attention to this phone call or multi-tasking at work while we talked?
“Regan, are you still there?”
“Do they know how she fell?” Regan asked.
I shrugged before I realized she couldn’t see my movements over the phone. “I don’t know anything about it other than the police interviewed Dave at the Kona police station.”
My comment finally provoked a reaction from my sister-in-law. “Why did they question Dave?”
“I presume because he owns the restaurant.”
The detective tapped my shoulder and asked if he could speak with Regan. I handed over my cell.
“Mrs. Bingham, this is Detective Lee.” He moved away from the table making it impossible for me to eavesdrop.
My mother suddenly appeared at my side with the rest of the gang not far behind. The police must have relented and let everyone in. I wrapped my arm around my mother’s waist and pointed toward the rocks below.
“Oh, my!” She gasped as she looked at the steep drop. “That poor young woman. Do you think she stayed late to clean up and got too close to the ropes? Dave will be horrified if this accident had anything to do with poor workmanship.”
Dave would be even more horrified if he ended up arrested for murder.
Our group spent the next fifteen minutes sharing everything we knew with the two officers. Our knowledge ranged from zero to zilch. None of us had met Keiki before last night, but she was alive and well when we returned to our hotel. At least I assumed she was alive. Somewhere around my fourth daiquiri, temporary amnesia set in. With my brother and mother as chaperones, I hadn’t worried about letting my curly mop down for a change.
When the officers finished with their questions, it was finally my turn. “Where is my brother? Is he under arrest?”
My mother morphed from a tranquil tourist into her normal intimidating real estate broker persona. “Do we need to hire an attorney? You realize my son is a well-known business owner with a restaurant to run. Not only must he find a replacement for Keiki, but yellow crime scene tape strewn all over isn’t going to help his business.”
I flinched at her less than sympathetic comments, but even at sixty-two, my mother was prepared to defend her forty-something chicks. I glanced in the direction of Alii Drive, trying to assess the financial impact Keiki’s death might have on the restaurant. Based on the substantial number of gawkers wandering up and down the street taking photos with their phones, business might increase out of morbid curiosity.
Stan chose that moment to jump into the conversation and insert his sand-covered flip-flop in his mouth. “Yeah, just because Dave and Keiki were making whoopee––” Stan abruptly stopped talking as six pairs of eyes zeroed in on him.
“Making what?” Detective Lee’s heavy black brows merged into one dark suspicious furrow.
Stan’s cheeks turned redder than his sunburned forehead. “Um, they were making whoopee pies, um, I mean poi.”
“What the heck is whoopee poi?” Liz asked.
Stan sank lower in his chair and mumbled, “You know, when they mash the taro roots, they yell out, um, whoopee?”
If I had a poi pounder right now, I’d be using it on Stan’s head. His sunburn must have turned his brain into mush.
The officers abruptly stood, walked away and conversed. Stan slumped in his chair looking wilted as Liz and I glared at him. My mother appeared baffled by the “whoopee” conversation, and I saw no point in enlightening her.
The officers returned to our table and announced we were free to leave. They also informed us they’d finished questioning Dave before we arrived. Before we departed, I needed to get one crucial issue resolved. I asked the detective to follow me over to the bar so I could prevent anyone listening in, especially big mouth Stan.
“You still haven’t confirmed if Keiki’s death was an accident or murder,” I said.
“That is correct.” Lee’s comment as well as his blank expression revealed nothing.
“What do you think?”
I sensed a glimmer of a smile forming on Lee’s otherwise stoic façade, but it was probably a reflection of the sun on his Ray Bans.
“I think you and your family should try to enjoy the rest of your vacation. It may be a day or two before the restaurant can reopen. Do you have any upcoming excursions planned?”
Was the officer attempting to be sociable, or did he want our whereabouts in case anything suspicious turned up? Either way, there was no reason to hide the group activities Liz had mapped out.
“We’re planning on driving to the volcano tomorrow then visiting Koffee Land. My brother’s wife works there so she’s going to give us the grand tour.”
“That should be very enjoyable although your sister-in-law may not be available tomorrow. When is your group scheduled to fly home?”
“Sunday. Is that a problem?”
He reached into his pocket and handed me a business card. “Just make sure you contact me before you leave. And Miss McKay––,” Lee paused to remove his sunglasses then leaned close. A hint of lime aftershave made me crave a piece of key lime pie. His next statement made me crave something more potent.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Don’t let our island’s beauty and serenity lull you into a false sense of security. Sometimes the emotions seething below a person’s calm surface can create far more damage than a volcanic eruption.”
Less than five minutes later, our group was seat-belted and motoring down Alii Drive. Every time I thought of Officer Lee’s warning, goose bumps shimmied up and down my arms. It made me suspect that they suspected Keiki didn’t accidentally fall to her death.
It was almost two in the afternoon, so we continued south, discovering a restaurant next to Magic Sands Beach. In winter, I’d been told, you could lie on the beautiful sandy beach one afternoon then, after a storm-filled night, discover it magically gone the next day.
We had no problem finding a choice table with an ocean view. The lava rock barrier protecting this restaurant from the pounding surf appeared higher and more secure than Daiquiri Dave’s exterior wall. Something my brother would undoubtedly regret for the rest of his life.
The server had just taken our lunch orders when my cell rang. I glanced at the name revealed on the screen and hit the accept button. “Dave, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s been a long…” his voice broke and I remained silent while he regained his composure. “Sorry about that. What are you guys up to now?”
I shared our current location then paused when Liz waved a half-eaten wedge of pineapple in my face, mouthing something unrecognizable. “Hold on a minute.”
“Are he and Regan still coming to the luau tonight?” Liz asked.
I shook my head at my friend. Liz probably thought a pig roast would be the perfect way to cheer up my brother. Although she might be right. Our company could prove a good distraction for him.
Dave said he needed to track down Regan and check on her plans. I was surprised they still hadn’t communicated, but perhaps she was unable to connect with Dave while he was with the police.
“Have you talked with Keiki’s sister?” I asked.
“Not yet. I wanted to call you first. I’m not sure Walea or any of her family will even speak to me.” He sighed so deeply my phone shuddered. “I still can’t believe Keiki fell over the wall. And why was she there all alone so late at night?”
“How do you know she was by herself?”
He paused. “She must have been alone or whoever was with her would have called 911 when she fell. Wouldn’t they?”
Not if they were the person who pushed her over.
“Do you know who found her?” I said.
“The officer said some guy staying at the hotel next door got up to go to the bathroom around three-thirty in the morning. He decided to sit on the lanai and catch a moonlight view of the waves crashing on the rocks. Instead he saw the surf crashing …” another catch of his breath before Dave finished, “just below Keiki’s broken body. Geez, Laurel, what if my negligence led to her death? How am I going to make this right with her family?”
“Did the police say it was definitely an accident?”
“No, in fact it sounded like they thought the opposite. They weren’t particularly forthcoming when I asked questions although they sure asked a ton of their own.”
“Like what?”
“They questioned me about Keiki’s background, how long she’d worked for us. If she had any enemies or anyone who disliked her. Current and previous boyfriends. If I thought she was using drugs. Weird stuff like that.”
“Those aren’t unusual questions,” I said.
“Well, I’m not the crime show buff you are. I’m strictly a
Kitchen Confidential
junkie.”
“Do they think Keiki overdosed? Or committed suicide?”
“Oh, man. I can’t imagine any of those things.” His voice caught. “She, Keiki, had so much going for her.”
“Was there evidence of a struggle?” I asked.
“I don’t know. All I heard was the cops found bits of broken glass scattered on the rocks way below the restaurant, but that could have happened days ago.”
“What did they––”
“Hey, Regan’s on the line. Gotta run. I’ll see you later.”
A loud click. I found myself staring at my phone while four pairs of eyes stared at me.
“Why didn’t you let me talk to Dave?” Mother complained. “Is he all right?”
I nodded and slid my phone back into my tote. “He sounded as good as one would expect.”
“Did he learn anything from the cops?” Brian asked. “They didn’t test his DNA, did they?”
I frowned, trying to remember standard operating procedures on my favorite crime shows. “Dave didn’t say anything about DNA testing. Would the cops automatically test everyone they bring in for questioning?”