The Perfect Body, page 10
part #8 of Professor Molly Mysteries Series
Ah, here it was. I pulled out the card and called Stephen’s parents’ attorney. I left a message detailing what Betty had told me: that Geoffrey Gunderson had conspired with the county prosecutor to pin Stephen’s death on Donnie. Donnie had told me not to talk to his lawyer. He hadn’t said don’t tell any lawyer.
Then I called Emma and caught her up.
“Molly, forget about working this morning,” Emma said excitedly. “We gotta brainstorm.”
“Margaret’s here at the house,” I said.
“Can she hear you?”
“No. I’m calling from my car.”
“Let’s meet somewhere. Not here. Yoshi’s got his t-shirt printing junk everywhere. How about the Pair-O-Dice?”
“The Pair-O-Dice? Is that place still around?” Every time I had gone there, the place had been practically empty. I had no idea how they stayed in business.
“Whaddaya mean is that place still around? Molly, the Pair-O-Dice is like four blocks from your house. How do you not know it’s still there?”
“It’s three quarters of a mile from my house. And I haven’t had a lot of opportunities to go strolling around downtown Mahina lately.”
“You’re not gonna bring the baby, are you?” Emma asked warily.
“I told you, she’s with Margaret.”
“Until when?”
“Until this afternoon. Around two, whenever Donnie comes home for lunch. I can be down there in half an hour.”
“Never takes half an hour to drive from your place.”
“I’m going to walk. I don’t want to deal with parallel-parking the Thunderbird downtown. Besides, it’s not raining, and I can use the exercise.”
I went inside and checked on Margaret and the baby one last time to make sure they were okay. Everything seemed fine. Margaret was sitting in one of our big armchairs, holding Francesca in her lap and reading to her from the CPA exam flash cards.
Donnie’s Drive-Inn looked crowded when I passed. The lines at the order windows were three or four deep, and people were standing around waiting for one of the picnic tables to clear. Good. We were going to have to sell a lot of plate lunches to pay for Donnie’s lawyer. I continued downhill, past the Victorian post office building. By the time I passed the park and reached the intersection. my surroundings had gone from quaint to charmingly sketchy. Rain-battered old-West style storefronts mingled with disused gas stations, ramshackle plantation houses, and makeshift hostels with hand painted signs.
By the time I reached the Pair-O-Dice Bar & Grille, I was out of “charmingly sketchy” territory and had entered plain old “sketchy.” When the Pair-O-Dice’s festive neon sign was turned on, the pink dice tumbled, and the green palm trees did a stop-motion sway. But now, in the drizzly midday, the sign was merely a scribble of dusty tubing in a black window. Sun-faded flyers taped behind the glass announced concerts and craft fairs that had taken place months ago.
Once my eyes adjusted to the Pair-O-Dice’s dark interior, it took no time at all to locate Emma. She was the only living soul there. She was most of the way through a tall glass of beer.
“Emma, It’s not even lunchtime.” I took a seat at the wobbly table and popped the tab of the canned club soda Emma had procured for me. She knows I’ll only order canned drinks here.
“Not that I’m judging,” I added. “Thanks for this.
“The Pair-O-Dice has its own time zone.” Emma pointed to the darkened window. “Once we’re on this side of that neon sign, it’s eternal happy hour. You’re okay? Baby’s squared away?”
“The baby’s fine. When I left, Margaret was reading something to her about par versus book value. I’ll have to borrow her note cards for when I have trouble sleeping. Emma, guess what I just found out. Apparently Verna, Betty Jackson’s daughter, turned down a grad school scholarship in actuarial science to stay in Mahina with Stephen Park.”
Emma tilted her head.
“What does Betty Jackson’s daughter have to do with Stephen?”
“Oh, I guess I never got a chance to tell you. Betty’s daughter and Stephen Park were a thing.”
“Ew!” Emma set down her beer and shook her hands as if they were covered with bugs.
“Didn’t I tell you?”
“No!” Emma cried. “I think I would’ve remembered. Poor Betty.”
In any other establishment, Emma’s outburst would have turned heads. But there were no heads to turn at the Pair-O-Dice. Even the bartender was mysteriously AWOL. At least as far as I could tell, although it was dark enough that someone might have been standing behind the bar without my realizing it.
“I didn’t tell you? I guess I told Donnie about it,” I said.
“Oh, and that’s the same as telling me about it? Cause we all look alike to you?”
“Yes, you and Donnie look exactly alike to me. That’s the explanation. Actually, I think it’s because you’re both in my ‘close confidant’ category.”
“Well, tell me then. What’s the deal with Park and Betty’s daughter?”
I told Emma everything I could think of that she might have missed.
Emma shook her head.
“Man. I don’t even have a kid, but I can tell you, if it was my daughter? I’d want to kill him. You sure Betty or Niall didn’t shove him off that balcony?”
“No, I’m not sure. Nor would I blame them.”
“But they think they can pin it on Donnie,” Emma mused. “It’s weird. With all the people around who had something against Park, how come they focus on Donnie? He can prove he was inside when Stephen fell.”
“Actually, he can’t.”
“What?”
“He told me he went outside to talk to Stephen.”
“He did what?” Emma slammed her beer down on the wooden table. I picked up a napkin and wiped beer foam from my eye.
“He didn’t like the way Stephen was talking to me. But he didn’t do anything to Stephen. He told me as soon as he was outside he realized he was making a mistake. He changed his mind and came back inside.”
“Molly, how come you’re keeping all the interesting stuff from me? I thought we were friends.”
“And that’s why we’re here,” I reassured her. “To get caught up. I’ve been replaying that night in my mind. So we were at Table 4—”
“Whoa, table four?”
“You don’t have to be sarcastic, Emma.”
“I’m not. Four is unlucky. It means death.”
“What?”
“In Japanese, four is pronounced shi, which sounds like the word for death. That’s how come you’re not supposed to give gifts that are in sets of four.”
“Oh good. Yet another opportunity for me to make a horrible social blunder without realizing—hang on.”
I reached for the ringing phone in my bag. Dan Watanabe’s office number flashed on my screen.
“Speaking of deans. Dang it. What does Dan want now?”
“Don’t answer it,” Emma urged me. “He’s gonna try put you on a committee.”
“He’s tried calling already,” I said. “Maybe it’s important.”
“And he can’t get another sucker, so he’s trying you again. Molly, don’t. It’s a trap.”
But I had already pressed the answer button.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dan wasn’t trying to press-gang me onto a summer committee. In fact, he had called to do me a favor. He had negotiated space in the new building for the College of Commerce, he said, and he was going to let me pick out my office.
“The other faculty members are bugging me about it,” he said, “but I said I’d let the department chairs have first dibs, and I’m keeping my word.”
“Thanks Dan,” I said. “I appreciate it.”
Across the table from me, Emma turned her head sideways like an owl.
“Well, I appreciate what you guys do too, Molly.”
“You mean like work for free during our unpaid summers?”
“Yeah. Like that. Management department has the top floor, by the way,” he added.
“The top floor, huh? Because we’re the most important?”
Emma rolled her eyes and stood up for another trip to the bar.
“Because you’re the smallest department, and there are only four usable offices up there. This way you’re all together.”
“Only four usable offices? What are the unusable offices, where they store their old straitjackets and lobotomy icepicks?”
“I couldn’t say. They’re not quite done fixing up the building.”
“Yeah, that was pretty evident at the donor dinner.” I didn’t know whether Dan had heard about Stephen Park’s death. Serena, his secretary, would tell him if she hadn’t already. “Too bad you couldn’t be there, by the way. I mean it.”
“Yes, I heard what happened, Molly. I wasn’t sure whether to tell you I’m sorry for your loss.”
So he had heard.
“It’s not my loss, particularly, but it’s a shame.”
“By the way, you mentioned the donor dinner? We’re not in that building.”
“We’re not? We don’t get the fabulous entryway with the curving staircases?”
“No, we have the building behind the main hospital.”
“There’s another building? Where? I didn’t see it.”
“Directly in back, a little further down the hill. It’s kind of overgrown back there. You wouldn’t notice it unless you were looking for it. It used to be the nurses’ quarters or a leprosy ward or something.”
“I wish you had just said nurses’ quarters.”
Emma came over and sat back down. She had a tall glass of beer in one hand and a miniature wine bottle in the other.
“Seems like you need this.” She handed me the wine.
“Is that Emma Nakamura?” Dan asked. “Tell her hi for me. You guys keeping up your coffee breaks this summer?”
Dan knew Emma well. During the school year she made a habit of hanging around my office and mooching coffee from my espresso machine.
“Yes,” I said as I unscrewed the top from the wine bottle. “Can’t let that coffee break tradition go. So, when should I go pick out my office?”
“Sooner’s better than later. I’d go today if I were you. If anything’s locked, you can call security to let you in. Make sure you have your ID.”
“See?” Emma said, as soon as I hung up. “Told you it was a good idea to answer the phone.”
“Uh-huh. Hey, thanks for the wine.”
“You’re lucky,” she said. “Your dean’s a decent guy.”
“I know.”
Emma lifted her glass, clinked it against my little wine bottle, and drank.
“Want another one?” she asked.
“No thank you. I just started this one. Emma, we have some time. Margaret has the baby. Want to come help me pick out my new office?”
“Sure. Might be fun.” Emma picked up her glass, realized she’d already emptied it, and set it back down again.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“So I’ve been thinking,” I said as I climbed into Emma’s undersized front seat. “About our theory of Bee Corcoran being the one who killed Stephen.”
“Yeah, I dunno about that,” Emma said. “If there was any evidence against Bee that made her look guilty, wouldn’t Gunderson be trying to get the prosecutor after her, instead of Donnie?”
“Unless Gunderson has his own reasons for keeping her out of trouble, like being complicit in her research fraud. Maybe he doesn’t want her flipping on him.”
“Ooh, Molly, I like it.”
“I thought you might. Anyway, when someone’s murdered, it’s usually the spouse or significant other, isn’t it? It wouldn’t be the first time someone killed their cheating boyfriend.”
“But he wasn’t her boyfriend.”
“So she says.”
“Wait a minute, Stephen was cheating? With who?”
“I don’t know. I can’t think of everything. But Emma, it’s Stephen we’re talking about here. He was probably cheating with someone.”
“Okay,” Emma said. “Speaking of jealousy as a motive, how about Betty Jackson’s daughter?”
“I like that idea a lot less,” I said. “Verna is just a kid.”
“Yeah, I agree. But Stephen dumped her and wrecked her life and now she’s working this junk job and she has to see him sitting there with his new da kine.”
“Exactly, Betty’s daughter was working,” I said. “She didn’t have time to follow Stephen outside and push him over the railing. Besides, I don’t want it to be Betty’s daughter. I like Betty.”
Emma started the car and shifted into reverse.
“I like Betty too, but everyone’s got their limit, ah? In fact, I’d say it’s more likely Betty killed him. Betty’s daughter gave up her scholarship for Stephen Park, and then Stephen Park dumped Betty’s daughter for Bee Corcoran. He broke the girl’s heart and even worse, wrecked her career.”
Emma peeled out into traffic inches ahead of a battered minivan.
“Eh, you think Betty Jackson is capable of murder?” Emma asked.
“No,” I replied. “But neither is Donnie.”
Emma swore and slammed on her brakes.
“I’ll assume that wasn’t directed at me,” I said.
“Nah. Babooze in the minivan tailgating me. Yeah, I can’t see either Betty or your husband going crazy an’ killing someone. If I was making a movie called Attack of the Level-Headed Logic People, I think I’d cast Betty and Donnie in the leading roles.”
“What about me? I’m a level-headed logic person.”
Emma snorted.
“You? With your Italian temper?”
“Emma, you know very well I’m—”
“I know, I know, everyone thinks you’re Italian but you’re really Albanian.”
“I’m Albanian, Emma…wait. That’s what you just said.”
Emma sped up at the yellow light and accelerated into a screeching left turn.
“Of course it is. How come you’re surprised?”
“It’s just that you usually get it wrong and say ‘Armenian’ or ‘Angolan’ or ‘Azerbaijani’ or something like that.”
“Only cause it’s hilarious how mad it makes you.”
“I don’t get mad. I just correct you. It’s not the same thing. Oh, how about Niall? Betty’s husband?”
“I thought he was out of town,” Emma said.
“Betty says he’s out of town. I don’t want it to be him either, though. Hey, maybe Bee will be in her office,”
Emma shot me a look.
“Why do we care if Bee’s in her office, Molly? We’re not going around interviewing suspects, right?”
“No, of course not. But it would be short-sighted of us to close ourselves off to readily-available information, don’t you think?”
“Whoa, Molly. I said yes to seeing your new office, but talk to Bee? About what? Tell her, ha-ha, here we are, unarmed and no one knows we’re here, just wanted to let you know we think you’re the murderer. Hope you don’t kill us now.”
“Aha, so you agree Bee could be the murderer.”
“Nah, I just don’t wanna make her mad. She could jack us up. You seen her arms?”
“Yes, we’ve already been over the topic of Bee’s arms. Look, I’m not saying I’m going to throw her office door open and point at her and declare, j’accuse!”
“Oh good. That’s a relief.”
“And she probably won’t even be there.”
“Yeah. Let’s hope not.” Emma gripped the steering wheel and accelerated around a slow sedan.
“But what if I just stop by to say hello and share the sad news about my husband getting wrongfully arrested because the university’s looking to blame someone for their negligence?”
Emma was already shaking her head, but I pressed on.
“And now we’re spending Francesca’s college fund to hire an expensive lawyer to defend him. She’ll realize what she set in motion, and I think she’ll consider changing her story.”
“You’re counting on someone you think is a murderer to have a sense of decency, Molly?”
“No, not at all. In fact—”
“Sounds like you are.”
“No. Here’s the thing, Emma. I tell Bee that we hired Honey Akiona to defend Donnie. Everyone knows Honey has the best investigators around. Her people are famous for finding out things the police missed. If Bee’s guilty and she knows Honey Akiona is on the case, she might consider confessing before the truth comes out.”
“So you’re saying suppose Bee’s guilty, knowing Donnie has a smart lawyer might make her think twice about trying to keep things covered up.”
“Exactly.”
“Yeah, I dunno. Bee had lots of opportunities to kill Park. Why would she wait to kill him at an event with so many people around?”
“To make people doubt that she did it, just like you’re doubting. To make sure there are witnesses who saw the two of them getting along all lovey-dovey kissy-face in public. That’s what I’d do if I wanted to kill someone.”
“Good to know. Eh, you know who we should’ve invited today?”
“Pat!” we said in unison. Emma leaned forward and reached for her back pocket.
“You drive,” I said quickly. “I’ll call him. That’s a great idea, Emma. He’s always on the lookout for Haunted Hawaii stories for Island Confidential. Besides, I haven’t seen him in ages.”
The façade of the old Mahina Memorial Hospital was pure Victorian grimness. At the donor dinner, with the lights blazing and the conversation humming, the old edifice had felt festive. But In the gray afternoon, with black mold streaking the gray stucco, it was easy to believe the building was teeming with tormented souls.
“So, this is where Miss Constance is supposedly floating around?” I asked Emma. “Pushing people off balconies?”
“Sometimes she just scares ‘em to death,” Emma said. “Or makes ‘em go crazy. Or derails their train. Eh Molly, where do I park?”
“College of Commerce isn’t in the main building,” I said. “Dan told me we’re around the back.”
Emma cut over from the main driveway to a narrow access path that snaked around the side of the old hospital building. We descended as we made our way around, so by the time we reached the back of the hospital we were a good two stories lower than the front. Emma stopped in front of what looked like an ancient loading dock. Wide bay doors were boarded up with plywood. The hospital had its best face to the street. Viewed from the back, it looked like a strong wind could blow it apart.
