Something's Rotten in Paradise (Maui Mayhem Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 8

  “Oh, shut up.”

  I tapped my cell’s dialer, entering Regina’s phone number.

  She wasn’t answering. The call finally went to voicemail.

  “Hello, Miss Casey. My name is Ginger Lee. I’m with Detective Anzo, and we need to talk with you. It’s very important. Please call me back as soon as possible. Thank you. Bye.”

  I held my cell, not bothering to put it back in my purse in case she called back right away.

  “If she’s Langley’s daughter, why would she have a different last name?” Pako asked.

  “Hmm. Good point. I doubt it’s from a previous marriage. She didn’t look old enough to have been married before, but then again, you never can tell. If she was married at eighteen and divorced at twenty, she could very well have kept her married name.”

  “It’s getting late. If she doesn’t call back in the next hour, we’ll have to head back.”

  “I know.”

  I prayed Regina would call back soon. I wanted to talk to her now rather than have to make another trip back here because that wouldn’t happen until next week.

  My prayers were answered.

  “Hello?”

  I nodded and smiled at Pako. He knew what that meant.

  “Great. We should be there in about...five minutes? I don’t think we’re very far. We had lunch today in that area.”

  She asked if we needed directions.

  “No, we have a GPS, but thanks.”

  I hoped the address was in there. Not everything showed up on these GPSes.

  “Okay, see you in a bit. Bye.”

  I sighed with relief and hunched back into my seat.

  “She’s at work, so she asked us to meet her there. I’ll punch it into the GPS.”

  After I had done so, I said, “Well, Watson, looks like we’re making progress. I hope we can break her into confessing she’s Lester’s sister.”

  “Oh, so I’m Watson today?” Pako wasn’t thrilled. Of course, in a joking way.

  “Weren’t you Sherlock the other day?” I asked.

  “No, I think you’ve tried to steal that title everyday now.”

  “We need another dynamic duo then. One with equal footing.” I tried to be democratic.

  “I don’t think there is one.”

  “Hmm, I believe you might be right.”

  After a few moments of silence, Pako yelled out, “Okay, I got some.”

  I waited.

  “Siegfried and Roy. Simon and Garfunkel.” His lips curved up from ear to ear. I was sure glad he didn’t include ‘Mutt and Jeff.’

  “Those pairings have nothing to do with detective work,” I chastised him.

  “Sheesh. No need to get hostile.” His normally high tone went even higher.

  I chuckled to myself.

  “Okay then, how about Starsky and Hutch? They’d work.” His expression was somewhere in-between proud and asking for approval. “Well?”

  “Yeah, okay, but I’m Hutch. He’s the cuter one.” I grinned like I’d just won an Oscar.

  “Not when you’ve got no makeup on.” Pako roared out a laugh.

  ACK! Did he just score ten points? I guess I deserved that one after needling him about his voice.

  The sound of gravel crunched as we rolled into the market’s parking lot.

  “We’re here,” Pako said, wiping his eyes as he gained his composure.

  “You ready, or do you need a few more minutes, Mr. Hilarity?” I asked with a smirk.

  Pako knew me as a good sport, so he didn’t take what I said as any serious sarcasm. He just smiled as we exited the car.

  By looking at the building’s quaint size and modest architecture, one could tell it was a small family-run business, dating back probably many years. It wasn’t dilapidated; seemed they kept up the termite treatments and the hunter green paint with brick red trim. It was a building with historical roots, like many others in more rural areas throughout the islands.

  As we swung open the single glass door, the dinging of a chime acknowledged our entrance.

  A young Asian woman smiled as we approached the counter. She had just rung up a customer at the cash register. My eyes quickly surveyed a couple of employees stocking shelves, while a handful of customers moved through tightly spaced aisles, carrying baskets half-filled with produce.

  “Can I help you?” the woman asked.

  I smiled a cordial greeting. “Is Regina available?”

  She eyed Pako, then looked back at me.

  “Sure, I’ll go get her.” She disappeared behind a curtain of translucent plastic strips.

  Within a few moments, Regina stepped out, along with her coworker.

  “Hi, I’m Regina. Are you the one who called?”

  “Yes, I’m Ginger, and this is Detective Anzo.”

  She shook both our hands.

  “You look familiar.” Creases formed between her sculpted brows.

  “I was the caterer at the Duboits’ dinner party.”

  “Oh. Yes, of course.” Her head tilted a slight angle. She was probably wondering why I was there with the police.

  “Were you undercover or something?” she asked.

  I chuckled at the thought.

  “No, no. I’m a real caterer.” I didn’t want to explain any more than that. She wouldn’t have understood.

  “Is there somewhere we can talk?” That was Pako.

  “We can go out back. There’s a place we can sit.”

  “Great,” I replied, and Regina led the way.

  We sat on a wooden picnic bench out on a grassy parklike area. It looked somewhat like a community playground in an apartment complex. Basically, low maintenance with few plants to water. A mango tree shaded us as we talked.

  “You knew Lester Langley before that night, am I right?” I jumped right in. As I mentioned, I’m no Ms. Smalltalk.

  She bit her lip. Bingo! I had touched on something.

  “No.”

  Ah, she lied.

  I glanced at Pako. His eyes narrowed, and not because he couldn’t see clearly. His cop mode kicked in.

  “Ms. Casey, you’re going to want to tell us the truth. We’re going to find out.” Detective Pako on the job. If we played ‘Good Cop, Bad Cop’ guess which one he would be? Now if only his voice...

  “Why-yyy would I know him?” Oh my, was Vogel contagious? No, we were getting to her. Anxiety gripped her like a vise.

  I went full barrel at her. “We know you’re his sister. We have proof.”

  She gulped. Oh man, she was that fawn staring straight into my rifle barrel.

  “You’re not in trouble yet, but if you continue to lie, then we’re going to investigate you further, and the truth will eventually come out.” Bad Cop doing his thing. Actually, we were both playing Bad Cop on this one.

  Hmm, just noticing that Pako used better English when in detective mode. When needing to convey an air of professionalism, yup, that’s what we all did. It’s kinda cute coming from him, though, because at times Pako’s pidgin can be as thick as poi (mashed taro).

  I pulled out my cell and scrolled my forefinger over the screen.

  “This is you, right?” I thrust my cell in front of the girl.

  Her eyes transfixed on the photo. Tears welled in them now. Two drops rolled down her cheeks as she blinked.

  Pleading eyes bore into mine, asking for mercy. Well, okay, maybe that was a little overdramatic, but suffice it to say—Regina knew she was stuck like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

  “We know it’s you. We were just at your father’s place, where Lester lived too.”

  This girl would never make it as an accomplice to a crime. She just didn’t have it in her.

  I touched her hand outstretched on the picnic table. I got a flash of a young woman garbed like a soldier during the Crusades. Then in the next moment, she was tied to a stake with flames burning under her feet. I didn’t have to Google this one to know who it was.

  Regina dragged her hand back to her
lap. Our connection broke.

  “Did you visit your brother that night while the Duboits were at the hospital? You know the truth about what happened, don’t you? The evidence is there.” I wasn’t proud having to lie, but sometimes you had to do what you had to do to get the answers. “Please help us.”

  She put her hands to her face and sobbed.

  My eyes met Pako’s. We were close. Regina was the break we needed.

  “What happened that night, Regina?” I asked, this time in a tone more in line with consoling a domestic violence victim.

  She wiped her mascara-smeared eyes. I pulled a tissue from my purse, and she thankfully took it.

  Her eyes met mine again, and I knew at that moment—we had her.

  Chapter 11

  “I told him not to do it,” she said.

  When it seemed she wasn’t going to continue, I asked, “Do what?” I was probably just impatient. She was trying to gain her composure.

  “After Vogel came back from the hospital and told me that his father had died, I slipped out to visit Lester when Vogel feel asleep.”

  Her fingers picked at the tissue.

  “He was crushed to hear Mr. Duboit had died. He was in such a sorry state I didn’t know what to do. When he composed himself, Lester told me to stay there, grabbed something from his overnighter, and left. I wondered what he was doing. When he came back, he had those disposable-type vinyl latex gloves on and took out a bottle of wine and glasses from the bag Penelope had brought.”

  She sniffled and wiped her nose.

  “I asked Lester what he was going to do with those, and he said, ‘something similar to voodoo magic.’ I told him to stick to the plan, and he said he was, but wanted to get Mrs. Duboit and Penelope out of the way so it would be easier to do it.”

  “He was going to poison them?” I asked, my voice hitting almost as high a pitch as Pako’s.

  “I don’t know. Lester said something about needing their wine glasses to perform the ritual. To be honest, I thought he had gone off the deep end. It terrified me. I had never seen him like that.”

  “Why don’t you have the same last name as him? Were you married before?”

  “No. I’m Lester’s stepsister. I’m older than him by three years. We’re not related by blood, and that’s why I couldn’t donate my kidney to him. My parents had me out of wedlock. My mother kept me, and my father paid her child support until she married.”

  Ah, so that explained it.

  “They were always on good terms. My parents just didn’t feel they belonged together as a couple.”

  I glanced at Pako. Sound familiar? Except we never did the wild thing, so thank goodness for that.

  Reese wasn’t joking. This whole thing between the Langleys and the Duboits played out like some crazy soap opera. Who needed The Young and the Restless when we had all this juicy drama sprouting in our own back yard?

  “Lester and I still sorta grew up together because I’d be over at my father’s house on weekends. We were pretty close as kids. We drifted apart for a while when I went away to the mainland for college. I dropped out my junior year and came back.”

  “Why would your father say you were dead?” I asked.

  “He was probably just nervous that you’d find out about our plan. It was my plan, actually. Lester protested, but it was the only way.”

  Oh yeah, I was meaning to ask about that. So much info to take in.

  “Just what was this plan? Was your father in on it too?”

  “He would do anything for his kids. Even when he found out Lester wasn’t his, he never changed his feelings toward him. After Lester’s mother killed herself, our plan was for me to hook up with Vogel in case Mr. Duboit didn’t do his good deed and give up his kidney for Lester.

  “I would eventually have Vogel wrapped around my finger and either get him to donate his kidney if he was a match, or get him to pay for all the medical expenses when a donor was found.”

  Hmm. She was sure confident that Vogel could be easily swayed to do her bidding.

  “You would sacrifice that much? Your happiness with finding somebody you loved, for your stepbrother?” Man, talk about devotion. Seemed her past life fit. Wonder what she needed to learn in this life. She was probably still learning it.

  “My family is the most important thing in my life,” she answered.

  My family was to me too, but I don’t think I would ever go to that extreme. I’d try to figure out another way to help my brother. Something not so drastic and conniving. Maybe get on Wheel of Fortune and win a boatload of money. I was good at that game.

  “Do you think something went awry with his voodoo thing, and he ended up poisoning himself instead? That part still doesn’t make sense.”

  “I can’t help you there. I left him after we talked. He was still alive. I thought I had convinced him not to do anything to the Duboits, so I went to bed. We were to continue as planned. I told him he was going to get that transplant either from Vogel or a donor, and I would get Vogel to pay for it.”

  Regina then paused and gave me an odd smile. Her eyes gleamed at me as though she had a secret to share.

  “I also told him that I had blackmailing material on Mrs. Duboit if she ever got in our way. I was at their house when she was making the catering arrangements with you. Vogel wasn’t there—he was with his father—but I overheard her tell you on the phone to include eel. She said nothing about cucumbers. When she argued with you after Mr. Duboit’s attack, I figured she was trying to blame you if he died.”

  Oh, thank god for small favors! I loved this girl!

  “You don’t know how happy you just made me, Regina. She had me by the short hairs.”

  I finally let out the breath I’d been holding since that sad, terrible night.

  “Yeah, I figured so. Don’t worry, I’ll testify on your behalf if it ever comes to that.”

  “I really appreciate that. I believe we’d have a criminal case against her, now that you can corroborate my side of the story.” I looked at Pako for reassurance.

  He nodded.

  Ah, justice will be served—with a lilikoi cheesecake and basil lime glaze.

  * * *

  It was around 4:30 p.m. by the time we left Regina. She was a huge help with solving most of this puzzle. But we still didn’t know who was responsible for Lester’s death.

  We needed to pay Lester’s ghost another visit.

  This time, we didn’t have to wait long. Lester’s spirit was already there before we arrived. He sat in one of the recliners like a child would in an oversized chair. His eyes fixed on us as we entered the door. It was as though he expected company.

  “No, don’t sit on that one,” I warned Pako as he was about to plant his big butt on Lester.

  “He’s sitting here?” Still slightly crouched, he pointed under his butt.

  I smiled and gave him a nod.

  Pako then moseyed over to the other side of the room and sat in the other recliner.

  “Lester, we know all about the plan. Regina told us everything. Your stepsister loved you so much, she was willing to be a martyr to help you.”

  He bowed his head, looking down at his clenched hands as he frowned.

  “Did your voodoo thing somehow go bad and you got poisoned by your own hand?”

  That had to be the only explanation. It didn’t make sense for anybody else to do it. Surely Regina wouldn’t have; she loved her stepbrother. Fiona and Penelope would have cleaned up before leaving all that evidence. Vogel was asleep. I doubt he got up without Regina knowing it. That didn’t leave anybody else who would have a motive.

  “Or did you kill yourself on purpose, Lester?”

  He stared at me with such an overwhelming sadness in his eyes, as though he felt nobody in the world loved him anymore. My skin prickled and my eyes teared up.

  Finally, he gave a single nod.

  “Which question are you answering?” My bad for asking two at the same time. “Are you saying your
voodoo thing went bad, and you accidentally poisoned yourself?”

  He shook his head.

  “So you killed yourself on purpose? You committed suicide?”

  He nodded.

  “Why?”

  He gave me a blank stare.

  I’m sure we both didn’t want to go through another game of charades at this point, so I said, “I’m going to see if I can guess it. If I guess right will you indicate so?”

  He nodded.

  I believed he wanted us to know the truth. Maybe it would help him move on.

  “Did you do it to get back at anybody?”

  He shook his head. Okay, he wasn’t trying to frame Fiona or Penelope then. Or maybe he was, since Regina had told him about Fiona lying about the eel, knowing she had killed his biological dad and potential donor, so he might’ve wanted to see justice done too. And as for Penelope, well, after how she treated him, he could’ve done it out of spite.

  But still, he was indicating that he didn’t commit suicide to frame them. His framing them could’ve just been like a side dish.

  “Did you think that you had no hope for a kidney transplant with your biological father dead?”

  He shook his head. Yeah, I guess their plan to go through Vogel was worth giving a shot before throwing in the towel.

  So what would it be? I put one arm under my elbow and rubbed my chin.

  “Maybe he didn’t want his stepsister to make the sacrifice,” Pako called out.

  Lester pointed to Pako and nodded.

  Oh my god, Watson guessed it!

  Well, of course. That made perfect sense.

  “So you brought poison with you that night, just in case your biological father didn’t want to help you? This was your Plan B, and Regina and your dad, the one who raised you, didn’t know about it?”

  He nodded.

  I leaned back on the sofa and exhaled a hearty sigh.

  Lester held up a hand in a wave goodbye and dissipated like a cloud of steam puffed out into the air.

  “He gone?”

  “Yup.”

  “Figured so, when you went silent.”

  “Good call on the sacrificing bit,” I said with a winded smile. I was bushed. What a day.