The Influencer, page 14
part #10 of Professor Molly Mysteries Series
“No. Emma, we talked about this. Park is a Scottish name. Stephen Park was zero percent Korean.”
“But then how come—”
“Stephen let everyone think he was half-Korean because in his mind being hapa was cooler than being some plain old white guy whose wealthy parents subsidized his theater career with the profits from their Beverly Hills-Adjacent plastic surgery center.”
“Oh wait,” Emma said. “I think I remember something about that.”
“Don’t you remember how Stephen used to sneer at me for abandoning my literary education? How ‘degrading’ he thought it was for me to be working in the, gasp, horrors, business school? And here he was, a bigger phony than I could ever dream of being.”
“Wow, Molly, sounds like you’re still mad at him.”
“What? Of course I’m not,” I said. “That would be petty.”
“You should be mad at him. Remember when he lost track of time and missed your birthday cause he was schtupping his theater student?”
“Oh, that part you remember. Hey, here we are. I didn’t realize the Cloudforest was so close.”
“Time flies when you’re trashing your ex.” Emma steered into a parking spot.
The young woman at the desk was one of the College of Commerce interns. I knew her from Intro to Business Management class the previous year, so we got to chatting about her internship. She told me she liked Mercedes and enjoyed most of the guests, and she was learning to deal with the occasional difficult customer. Mercedes wasn’t there, so I left a message. Emma bought a jar of guava butter from the display behind the counter.
“Oh, tell Professor Harriet I hope her thumbs feel better soon,” the young woman said as we turned to leave. I turned back.
“Professor Harriet Holmes?” I asked.
“Yeah, Professor Harriet is great. I’m taking her business law class this semester. I always heard b- law was boring but Professor Harriet makes it super interesting.”
“I’m happy to hear it,” I said.
“She get all these stories about high maka maka British guys she knows, like politicians and archbishops and stuff. Did you know what a ‘rent boy’ is?”
“What happened to Professor Harriett’s thumbs?” I asked. “Why did you say you hope they feel better?”
“Oh our class did pretty bad on our last midterm. Someone asked her aren’t you supposed to make sure we all pass? And she told us the grades would stand but she expected the Student Retention office would have her in thumbscrews for it.”
“I think it was just a figure of speech,” I said. “The Student Retention Office doesn’t have actual thumbscrews.”
“Really?” Relief washed over the young intern’s face.
“It is the Student Retention Office though,” Emma said. “You never really know what they’re capable of.”
CHAPTER 34
WE GOT BACK TO MY HOUSE around lunchtime and found Pat sitting at my dining table, working on his computer and drinking coffee. I set out the box of cream puffs and we sat down to catch him up.
“And look at these.” I opened the carton of eggs to show him. “Authentically farm fresh, complete with dirt.”
“So they don’t need to go in the fridge,” Emma said.
“Wait, really?” I said.
“Yeah, really. Don’t look at me like that, Molly.”
“Yeah, according to my mom they never refrigerated their eggs back in the old country,” Pat said.
“Okay. I guess I won’t put them in the fridge then. Pat, anything interesting happen while we were gone?”
“Someone named Kaycee called,” Pat said. “Is she the one who does your yard?”
“There is a Kaycee who does our yard,” I said. “Thanks, I’ll call her back.”
“She said don’t call her. She wants you to call Howdy Howell.”
“Why should we call Howdy?” Emma asked. “Isn’t he your friend, Pat? You call him.”
“No one asked me to call him.” Pat went back to whatever he was doing on his computer.
“That doesn’t sound right,” I said.
“Here’s Howdy’s number if you want to call it.” Pat held out a sticky note.
“Guess we’re calling Howdy.” Emma plucked the paper out of Pat’s hand.
“Ow!” Pat shook his hand. “Paper cut!”
Emma dialed the number on her phone. I was happy to let her deal with it. I tidied up in the kitchen and tried to make as little noise as possible.
“Hey Howdy, it’s Emma Nakamura. Kaycee called. Yeah. Uh huh. Eh, why don’t you just come over here and help us figure out what’s going on.”
“What is going on?” I asked when Emma had disconnected the call.
“He didn’t want to talk about it on the phone. Pat, do you know what’s this about?”
Pat stopped typing and looked up from his computer. “No. I hope he’s okay, though. I don’t think he’s ever done a real crime story before.”
“What, you think it’s gonna mess him up or something?” Emma asked.
Pat shrugged. “It can take a toll on you.”
A few minutes later, Howdy Howell stood on my front porch, looking disoriented.
“I can’t believe it.” He wandered into my living room, looking around as if it were his first time there. “I just can’t believe it.”
“Come in,” I said. “Sit down. We have coffee and cream puffs.”
“Thanks so much, Professor Barda. Professor Nakamura.”
Howdy sat at the dining table. Pat pushed the pink Jack Horner’s pastry box over to him. Howdy flinched.
“Sorry, Mr. Flanagan,” he said. “I can’t think about eating right now.”
“You gonna be okay?” Pat closed his computer and set it under his chair.
Howdy shook his head.
“I’m not worried about myself, Mr. Flanagan.”
I set a fresh cup of coffee down in front of Howdy. He accepted it gratefully.
“What on earth is going on with Kaycee?” I took the last empty seat at the table. “Why did she tell us to call you?”
Howie sipped his coffee and set it down.
“Wow, thanks, Professor Barda. Kaycee’s in jail.”
“Kaycee?” I exclaimed.
“For what?” Emma asked.
“For murder,” Howdy said.
“Nah, nah, nah. I can’t believe Kaycee would murder someone,” Emma said. “It’s not like her at all. And believe me, I don’t say that about all my students. Who did she murder, supposably?”
“Jandie Brand,” Howdy said.
“Kaycee loved Jandie Brand,” I said. “What possible reason would she have to hurt her?”
“Doesn’t necessarily let her off the hook,” Pat said. “Remember ‘fan’ is short for ‘fanatic.’”
“So what’s her bail?” Emma pulled out her phone, presumably to check her bank balance. “I can chip in. I know she won’t skip town.”
“They’re holding her without bail,” Howdy said. “Professor Barda, Kaycee said you could help because she works for you and she was your student at Mahina State.”
“She was Emma’s student, not mine,” I said. “But she does do yardwork for Donnie and me.”
“She’s hoping you can convince them she’s not a flight risk,” Howdy said.
“I mean I’ll tell them she’s a great landscaper and a reliable worker,” I said. “I can’t say I know her that well.”
“I’ll vouch for her,” Emma said. “What is wrong with people?”
“What about Ladd?” Pat asked. “Is he off the hook?”
Howdy shook his head.
“I think the theory is they planned it together. Kayce Kabua and Edward Ladd. So they could be together, I guess.”
“Wait,” I said. “They think Kaycee was having an affair with Ladd? What on earth is her motivation?”
“Ladd’s rich and famous,” Pat said.
“He’s not that famous,” Emma said. “I mean, no one recognized him at Long’s.”
“And we ran their credit report before they moved in,” I added. “They’re comfortable, but I wouldn’t call them rich. I mean, if they were rich, they’d be staying at one of the resorts, wouldn’t they? Not renting a single-wall plantation house next to a cemetery in Mahina.”
“People can surprise you,” Pat said. “I mean, if I had a nickel for every time I’ve thought, ew, no way are those two having an affair, I’d have a disturbingly large amount of nickels.”
“I really like Kaycee,” Howdy said. “She’s a great girl. And I came here because she asked me to ask you for help, and I said I would. But...I mean, I’m not an expert. Who am I to think I know better than a judge?”
“So you want us to try change the judge’s mind or no?” Emma demanded.
Howdy shook his head. “I don’t know, Professor Nakamura. Poor Kaycee. Maybe she’s safer where she is? It’s all so confusing.”
“What evidence do they have against Kaycee?” I asked Howdy.
“I don’t know, Professor Barda.”
“Does she have a lawyer?” Emma asked. “Honey Akiona’s the best, if you want my advice. Expensive, though.”
“I don’t have a lot of savings,” Howdy said. “But I’ll pitch in what I can.”
“I wanna go talk to her,” Emma said. “Molly, you come with me. Pat and Howdy, you go do your investigative reporting thing.”
“But—” Pat started.
“What, you got something better to do?”
“Yeah, okay. Whadda you say, Howdy,” Pat said. “Should we try to make ourselves useful?”
CHAPTER 35
IT WAS QUICKER TO GET a phone call with Kaycee at the Mahina police cellblock than to schedule an in-person visit, so Emma and I dialed in the next morning. Kaycee sounded surprisingly cheerful as she filled us in on her situation.
An anonymous tipster had directed police to Kaycee’s carport, where they had retrieved a shovel with traces of blood on it.
Kaycee told us she had no idea who might have called in the tip, or how her shovel had gotten blood on it. She was always careful to clean up after a job, she said. She would never put away a bloody shovel with her other tools. When Emma told her about the theory that she’d been having an affair with Jandie’s husband, Kaycee laughed out loud. Why would she want to get with some grumpy old fut like him? She liked Jandie Brand and would never want to harm her, who would be dumb enough to think she would? Kaycee told us jail wasn’t so bad. One of the guards was a friend from high school. So were a couple of the inmates.
Kaycee didn’t seem to grasp the fact she was in real trouble. She seemed to think it was all a big mistake that would get cleared up quickly.
“What do you think?” I asked Emma when we’d hung up. “Is Kaycee lying about not having an affair with Ladd and covering for him? He killed Jandie, and she’s taking the blame?”
“Who was the snitch?” Emma asked. “That’s what I’d like to know. Who called the police and told ‘em about the shovel? Who would wanna pin this on her?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she slighted someone and didn’t realize it, and they’re getting back at her?”
“That’s a heck of a way to get back at someone,” Emma said.
Pat came into the kitchen, rubbing his face, and set up a cup of coffee for himself.
“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Emma called into the kitchen.
“Late night?” I asked.
“Yeah, but worth it.” Pat brought his coffee out to the table and joined us.
“So we have a cause of death.” Pat sipped his coffee. “For Jandie Brand.”
“For the mystery corpse we assume is Jandie Brand,” I said. “Although the only person casting doubt on her identity is Ladd, so it’s probably her.”
“Oh, I know,” Emma said. “Beaten to death. With the bloody shovel they found in Kaycee’s garage.”
“Wrong,” Pat said.
“Drowned?” I suggested. “Someone pushed over the cliff into the ocean?”
“Wrong again.”
“I give up,” I said.
“Not me,” Emma said. “Wait. Okay, I give up too.”
“Overdose,” Pat said. “There are significant injuries, but they’re postmortem.”
“I would not have guessed an overdose,” I said. “Is it wrong for me to be relieved to hear it? I mean, that she wasn’t alive to suffer?”
“I kinda agree,” Emma said.
“Did you get to talk to Kaycee yet?” Pat asked.
“We just finished,” I said.
“Did Kaycee tell you why she had a bloody shovel in her garage?”
“She had no idea how it got there,” Emma said.
“Carport, not garage,” I said. “So someone could have planted a bloody shovel there. Or smeared blood on one she already owned. We were wondering who would’ve called in the tip.”
“Ladd?” Emma suggested.
“But he’s in jail too, isn’t he?” I said. “Can you call in an anonymous tip from jail?”
“You can snitch in jail,” Pat said. “It’s kind of a tradition, in fact.”
“Implicating Kaycee wouldn’t clear Ladd anyway,” I said. “It would just support the theory that the two of them were having an affair and conspired to get rid of his wife.”
“Except Ladd could say Kaycee was obsessed with him and killed his wife so she could have him to herself and he’s the real victim,” Emma said.
I stood up and headed to the kitchen.
“Ugh. I need a drink, but it’s only nine-thirty in the morning so that drink’s going to have to be coffee. Also I’m hungry now, which is weird.”
“Maybe someone really, really wanted Jandie dead,” Pat was saying when I came back with my coffee and a plate of reheated wontons and chicken katsu. “Overdosed her, beat her with a shovel, then threw her into the ocean. Real belt-and-suspenders approach.”
“How much of this is public?” I asked Pat.
“They’re not releasing her cause of death,” Pat said. “They want to keep the murderer in the dark. So don’t you two say anything.”
Howdy Howell stopped by the house later that afternoon. He thanked Emma and me for calling Kaycee and told us she really appreciated our reaching out to her. He and Pat went out to the lanai to talk privately. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the warm breeze carried the men’s voices through the open window.
“Mr. Flanagan, I’m telling you this in strictest confidence,” Howdy Howell said. I should have stopped listening then and there, but humans can’t exactly seal off their ears, can they? “I liked the Ladds a lot, and I always thought Mr. Ladd was a decent man, but now...Kaycee is telling me the shovel they found isn’t hers. She says someone planted it at her place. Does that make any sense to you, Mr. Flanagan?”
I glanced over at Emma. She was relaxing on the couch and reading one of her plant biology journals. Maybe she couldn’t hear the conversation going on outside.
“So who are you thinking it was?” Pat asked.
“I hate to make an accusation,” Howell said quietly. “He was always real decent to me.”
“But?” Pat prompted him.
The wind must have changed direction. Either that, or Pat and Howdy started talking more quietly.
“Dang it.” Emma sat up.
“Emma, were you eavesdropping?”
“Oh yeah, like you weren’t.” Emma came over and pulled a chair up next to my desk. “We gotta find out what Howdy told Pat. I bet he was talking about Ladd. How are we gonna get Pat to spill, that’s the question.”
“I wish I could stay and help,” I said. “But I have a homeowners’ association meeting in about an hour.”
“Ugh, really? Since when is your stupid HOA more important than squeezing the truth out of Pat?”
“Since I learned our nemesis Linda Wilson was in charge of it,” I said. “I need to be prepared for whatever knavery she’s planning to inflict on me next.”
“Yeah, okay. You get a pass.”
“Want to come?” I asked Emma. “They’re having it at Harriet and Nigel’s place.”
“No way. If I die without ever laying eyes on Linda Wilson again, I’ll consider it a life well lived.”
CHAPTER 36
THE FRONT DOOR OF THE new Holmes residence was ajar. I let myself in and placed the heated-up tinfoil tray of chicken katsu on their kitchen counter with the other potluck dishes. When Donnie had brought home the foil trays from the Drive-Inn and packed them into the freezer, I thought it was way too much food for the short time he’d be out of town. I was wrong. The frozen food stash was coming in handy.
I found the standing-room-only crowd out back, packed into the screened lanai overlooking the cemetery.
Presiding over the meeting was my erstwhile nemesis from the Student Retention Office, Linda Wilson. Even though it was a warm evening, Linda wore one of her signature long-sleeved muumuus. She passed out meeting agendas printed on lime-green paper. The meeting itself was routine—treasurer’s report, modest increase in annual dues—until the last item.
Vacation rentals.
“We all moved here to Uakoko Street because it was such a peaceful neighborhood,” Linda announced, making eye contact with me for the first time that evening. “Although I haven’t been able to determine any specific rules or covenants which have been broken with regard to rentals...” (and how disappointing for you, I thought) “...I think recent events will serve as a warning to all of us to screen our tenants carefully. On that note, let us thank my tenants, Nigel and Harriet Holmes, for the use of their house this evening.”
“Hullo,” Harriet called from somewhere in the back.
“Delighted,” her husband Nigel added.
When the meeting was over the crowd moved inside to enjoy the potluck offerings. Harriet came over and clapped a hand on my shoulder.
“I say Barda, things do seem a bit tense between you and old Linda.”
“It’s completely unfair,” I said. “Harriet, you know me. I’m not brave enough to fight the Student Retention Office. I always cooperated with them. Emma was Linda’s real nemesis. Linda’s problem with me was just guilt by association.” There was a little more to it than that, but Harriet didn’t need to know everything.
“But then how come—”
“Stephen let everyone think he was half-Korean because in his mind being hapa was cooler than being some plain old white guy whose wealthy parents subsidized his theater career with the profits from their Beverly Hills-Adjacent plastic surgery center.”
“Oh wait,” Emma said. “I think I remember something about that.”
“Don’t you remember how Stephen used to sneer at me for abandoning my literary education? How ‘degrading’ he thought it was for me to be working in the, gasp, horrors, business school? And here he was, a bigger phony than I could ever dream of being.”
“Wow, Molly, sounds like you’re still mad at him.”
“What? Of course I’m not,” I said. “That would be petty.”
“You should be mad at him. Remember when he lost track of time and missed your birthday cause he was schtupping his theater student?”
“Oh, that part you remember. Hey, here we are. I didn’t realize the Cloudforest was so close.”
“Time flies when you’re trashing your ex.” Emma steered into a parking spot.
The young woman at the desk was one of the College of Commerce interns. I knew her from Intro to Business Management class the previous year, so we got to chatting about her internship. She told me she liked Mercedes and enjoyed most of the guests, and she was learning to deal with the occasional difficult customer. Mercedes wasn’t there, so I left a message. Emma bought a jar of guava butter from the display behind the counter.
“Oh, tell Professor Harriet I hope her thumbs feel better soon,” the young woman said as we turned to leave. I turned back.
“Professor Harriet Holmes?” I asked.
“Yeah, Professor Harriet is great. I’m taking her business law class this semester. I always heard b- law was boring but Professor Harriet makes it super interesting.”
“I’m happy to hear it,” I said.
“She get all these stories about high maka maka British guys she knows, like politicians and archbishops and stuff. Did you know what a ‘rent boy’ is?”
“What happened to Professor Harriett’s thumbs?” I asked. “Why did you say you hope they feel better?”
“Oh our class did pretty bad on our last midterm. Someone asked her aren’t you supposed to make sure we all pass? And she told us the grades would stand but she expected the Student Retention office would have her in thumbscrews for it.”
“I think it was just a figure of speech,” I said. “The Student Retention Office doesn’t have actual thumbscrews.”
“Really?” Relief washed over the young intern’s face.
“It is the Student Retention Office though,” Emma said. “You never really know what they’re capable of.”
CHAPTER 34
WE GOT BACK TO MY HOUSE around lunchtime and found Pat sitting at my dining table, working on his computer and drinking coffee. I set out the box of cream puffs and we sat down to catch him up.
“And look at these.” I opened the carton of eggs to show him. “Authentically farm fresh, complete with dirt.”
“So they don’t need to go in the fridge,” Emma said.
“Wait, really?” I said.
“Yeah, really. Don’t look at me like that, Molly.”
“Yeah, according to my mom they never refrigerated their eggs back in the old country,” Pat said.
“Okay. I guess I won’t put them in the fridge then. Pat, anything interesting happen while we were gone?”
“Someone named Kaycee called,” Pat said. “Is she the one who does your yard?”
“There is a Kaycee who does our yard,” I said. “Thanks, I’ll call her back.”
“She said don’t call her. She wants you to call Howdy Howell.”
“Why should we call Howdy?” Emma asked. “Isn’t he your friend, Pat? You call him.”
“No one asked me to call him.” Pat went back to whatever he was doing on his computer.
“That doesn’t sound right,” I said.
“Here’s Howdy’s number if you want to call it.” Pat held out a sticky note.
“Guess we’re calling Howdy.” Emma plucked the paper out of Pat’s hand.
“Ow!” Pat shook his hand. “Paper cut!”
Emma dialed the number on her phone. I was happy to let her deal with it. I tidied up in the kitchen and tried to make as little noise as possible.
“Hey Howdy, it’s Emma Nakamura. Kaycee called. Yeah. Uh huh. Eh, why don’t you just come over here and help us figure out what’s going on.”
“What is going on?” I asked when Emma had disconnected the call.
“He didn’t want to talk about it on the phone. Pat, do you know what’s this about?”
Pat stopped typing and looked up from his computer. “No. I hope he’s okay, though. I don’t think he’s ever done a real crime story before.”
“What, you think it’s gonna mess him up or something?” Emma asked.
Pat shrugged. “It can take a toll on you.”
A few minutes later, Howdy Howell stood on my front porch, looking disoriented.
“I can’t believe it.” He wandered into my living room, looking around as if it were his first time there. “I just can’t believe it.”
“Come in,” I said. “Sit down. We have coffee and cream puffs.”
“Thanks so much, Professor Barda. Professor Nakamura.”
Howdy sat at the dining table. Pat pushed the pink Jack Horner’s pastry box over to him. Howdy flinched.
“Sorry, Mr. Flanagan,” he said. “I can’t think about eating right now.”
“You gonna be okay?” Pat closed his computer and set it under his chair.
Howdy shook his head.
“I’m not worried about myself, Mr. Flanagan.”
I set a fresh cup of coffee down in front of Howdy. He accepted it gratefully.
“What on earth is going on with Kaycee?” I took the last empty seat at the table. “Why did she tell us to call you?”
Howie sipped his coffee and set it down.
“Wow, thanks, Professor Barda. Kaycee’s in jail.”
“Kaycee?” I exclaimed.
“For what?” Emma asked.
“For murder,” Howdy said.
“Nah, nah, nah. I can’t believe Kaycee would murder someone,” Emma said. “It’s not like her at all. And believe me, I don’t say that about all my students. Who did she murder, supposably?”
“Jandie Brand,” Howdy said.
“Kaycee loved Jandie Brand,” I said. “What possible reason would she have to hurt her?”
“Doesn’t necessarily let her off the hook,” Pat said. “Remember ‘fan’ is short for ‘fanatic.’”
“So what’s her bail?” Emma pulled out her phone, presumably to check her bank balance. “I can chip in. I know she won’t skip town.”
“They’re holding her without bail,” Howdy said. “Professor Barda, Kaycee said you could help because she works for you and she was your student at Mahina State.”
“She was Emma’s student, not mine,” I said. “But she does do yardwork for Donnie and me.”
“She’s hoping you can convince them she’s not a flight risk,” Howdy said.
“I mean I’ll tell them she’s a great landscaper and a reliable worker,” I said. “I can’t say I know her that well.”
“I’ll vouch for her,” Emma said. “What is wrong with people?”
“What about Ladd?” Pat asked. “Is he off the hook?”
Howdy shook his head.
“I think the theory is they planned it together. Kayce Kabua and Edward Ladd. So they could be together, I guess.”
“Wait,” I said. “They think Kaycee was having an affair with Ladd? What on earth is her motivation?”
“Ladd’s rich and famous,” Pat said.
“He’s not that famous,” Emma said. “I mean, no one recognized him at Long’s.”
“And we ran their credit report before they moved in,” I added. “They’re comfortable, but I wouldn’t call them rich. I mean, if they were rich, they’d be staying at one of the resorts, wouldn’t they? Not renting a single-wall plantation house next to a cemetery in Mahina.”
“People can surprise you,” Pat said. “I mean, if I had a nickel for every time I’ve thought, ew, no way are those two having an affair, I’d have a disturbingly large amount of nickels.”
“I really like Kaycee,” Howdy said. “She’s a great girl. And I came here because she asked me to ask you for help, and I said I would. But...I mean, I’m not an expert. Who am I to think I know better than a judge?”
“So you want us to try change the judge’s mind or no?” Emma demanded.
Howdy shook his head. “I don’t know, Professor Nakamura. Poor Kaycee. Maybe she’s safer where she is? It’s all so confusing.”
“What evidence do they have against Kaycee?” I asked Howdy.
“I don’t know, Professor Barda.”
“Does she have a lawyer?” Emma asked. “Honey Akiona’s the best, if you want my advice. Expensive, though.”
“I don’t have a lot of savings,” Howdy said. “But I’ll pitch in what I can.”
“I wanna go talk to her,” Emma said. “Molly, you come with me. Pat and Howdy, you go do your investigative reporting thing.”
“But—” Pat started.
“What, you got something better to do?”
“Yeah, okay. Whadda you say, Howdy,” Pat said. “Should we try to make ourselves useful?”
CHAPTER 35
IT WAS QUICKER TO GET a phone call with Kaycee at the Mahina police cellblock than to schedule an in-person visit, so Emma and I dialed in the next morning. Kaycee sounded surprisingly cheerful as she filled us in on her situation.
An anonymous tipster had directed police to Kaycee’s carport, where they had retrieved a shovel with traces of blood on it.
Kaycee told us she had no idea who might have called in the tip, or how her shovel had gotten blood on it. She was always careful to clean up after a job, she said. She would never put away a bloody shovel with her other tools. When Emma told her about the theory that she’d been having an affair with Jandie’s husband, Kaycee laughed out loud. Why would she want to get with some grumpy old fut like him? She liked Jandie Brand and would never want to harm her, who would be dumb enough to think she would? Kaycee told us jail wasn’t so bad. One of the guards was a friend from high school. So were a couple of the inmates.
Kaycee didn’t seem to grasp the fact she was in real trouble. She seemed to think it was all a big mistake that would get cleared up quickly.
“What do you think?” I asked Emma when we’d hung up. “Is Kaycee lying about not having an affair with Ladd and covering for him? He killed Jandie, and she’s taking the blame?”
“Who was the snitch?” Emma asked. “That’s what I’d like to know. Who called the police and told ‘em about the shovel? Who would wanna pin this on her?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she slighted someone and didn’t realize it, and they’re getting back at her?”
“That’s a heck of a way to get back at someone,” Emma said.
Pat came into the kitchen, rubbing his face, and set up a cup of coffee for himself.
“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Emma called into the kitchen.
“Late night?” I asked.
“Yeah, but worth it.” Pat brought his coffee out to the table and joined us.
“So we have a cause of death.” Pat sipped his coffee. “For Jandie Brand.”
“For the mystery corpse we assume is Jandie Brand,” I said. “Although the only person casting doubt on her identity is Ladd, so it’s probably her.”
“Oh, I know,” Emma said. “Beaten to death. With the bloody shovel they found in Kaycee’s garage.”
“Wrong,” Pat said.
“Drowned?” I suggested. “Someone pushed over the cliff into the ocean?”
“Wrong again.”
“I give up,” I said.
“Not me,” Emma said. “Wait. Okay, I give up too.”
“Overdose,” Pat said. “There are significant injuries, but they’re postmortem.”
“I would not have guessed an overdose,” I said. “Is it wrong for me to be relieved to hear it? I mean, that she wasn’t alive to suffer?”
“I kinda agree,” Emma said.
“Did you get to talk to Kaycee yet?” Pat asked.
“We just finished,” I said.
“Did Kaycee tell you why she had a bloody shovel in her garage?”
“She had no idea how it got there,” Emma said.
“Carport, not garage,” I said. “So someone could have planted a bloody shovel there. Or smeared blood on one she already owned. We were wondering who would’ve called in the tip.”
“Ladd?” Emma suggested.
“But he’s in jail too, isn’t he?” I said. “Can you call in an anonymous tip from jail?”
“You can snitch in jail,” Pat said. “It’s kind of a tradition, in fact.”
“Implicating Kaycee wouldn’t clear Ladd anyway,” I said. “It would just support the theory that the two of them were having an affair and conspired to get rid of his wife.”
“Except Ladd could say Kaycee was obsessed with him and killed his wife so she could have him to herself and he’s the real victim,” Emma said.
I stood up and headed to the kitchen.
“Ugh. I need a drink, but it’s only nine-thirty in the morning so that drink’s going to have to be coffee. Also I’m hungry now, which is weird.”
“Maybe someone really, really wanted Jandie dead,” Pat was saying when I came back with my coffee and a plate of reheated wontons and chicken katsu. “Overdosed her, beat her with a shovel, then threw her into the ocean. Real belt-and-suspenders approach.”
“How much of this is public?” I asked Pat.
“They’re not releasing her cause of death,” Pat said. “They want to keep the murderer in the dark. So don’t you two say anything.”
Howdy Howell stopped by the house later that afternoon. He thanked Emma and me for calling Kaycee and told us she really appreciated our reaching out to her. He and Pat went out to the lanai to talk privately. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the warm breeze carried the men’s voices through the open window.
“Mr. Flanagan, I’m telling you this in strictest confidence,” Howdy Howell said. I should have stopped listening then and there, but humans can’t exactly seal off their ears, can they? “I liked the Ladds a lot, and I always thought Mr. Ladd was a decent man, but now...Kaycee is telling me the shovel they found isn’t hers. She says someone planted it at her place. Does that make any sense to you, Mr. Flanagan?”
I glanced over at Emma. She was relaxing on the couch and reading one of her plant biology journals. Maybe she couldn’t hear the conversation going on outside.
“So who are you thinking it was?” Pat asked.
“I hate to make an accusation,” Howell said quietly. “He was always real decent to me.”
“But?” Pat prompted him.
The wind must have changed direction. Either that, or Pat and Howdy started talking more quietly.
“Dang it.” Emma sat up.
“Emma, were you eavesdropping?”
“Oh yeah, like you weren’t.” Emma came over and pulled a chair up next to my desk. “We gotta find out what Howdy told Pat. I bet he was talking about Ladd. How are we gonna get Pat to spill, that’s the question.”
“I wish I could stay and help,” I said. “But I have a homeowners’ association meeting in about an hour.”
“Ugh, really? Since when is your stupid HOA more important than squeezing the truth out of Pat?”
“Since I learned our nemesis Linda Wilson was in charge of it,” I said. “I need to be prepared for whatever knavery she’s planning to inflict on me next.”
“Yeah, okay. You get a pass.”
“Want to come?” I asked Emma. “They’re having it at Harriet and Nigel’s place.”
“No way. If I die without ever laying eyes on Linda Wilson again, I’ll consider it a life well lived.”
CHAPTER 36
THE FRONT DOOR OF THE new Holmes residence was ajar. I let myself in and placed the heated-up tinfoil tray of chicken katsu on their kitchen counter with the other potluck dishes. When Donnie had brought home the foil trays from the Drive-Inn and packed them into the freezer, I thought it was way too much food for the short time he’d be out of town. I was wrong. The frozen food stash was coming in handy.
I found the standing-room-only crowd out back, packed into the screened lanai overlooking the cemetery.
Presiding over the meeting was my erstwhile nemesis from the Student Retention Office, Linda Wilson. Even though it was a warm evening, Linda wore one of her signature long-sleeved muumuus. She passed out meeting agendas printed on lime-green paper. The meeting itself was routine—treasurer’s report, modest increase in annual dues—until the last item.
Vacation rentals.
“We all moved here to Uakoko Street because it was such a peaceful neighborhood,” Linda announced, making eye contact with me for the first time that evening. “Although I haven’t been able to determine any specific rules or covenants which have been broken with regard to rentals...” (and how disappointing for you, I thought) “...I think recent events will serve as a warning to all of us to screen our tenants carefully. On that note, let us thank my tenants, Nigel and Harriet Holmes, for the use of their house this evening.”
“Hullo,” Harriet called from somewhere in the back.
“Delighted,” her husband Nigel added.
When the meeting was over the crowd moved inside to enjoy the potluck offerings. Harriet came over and clapped a hand on my shoulder.
“I say Barda, things do seem a bit tense between you and old Linda.”
“It’s completely unfair,” I said. “Harriet, you know me. I’m not brave enough to fight the Student Retention Office. I always cooperated with them. Emma was Linda’s real nemesis. Linda’s problem with me was just guilt by association.” There was a little more to it than that, but Harriet didn’t need to know everything.
