The Influencer, page 2
part #10 of Professor Molly Mysteries Series
“You’ll be fine, Molly. You got this. Didn’t you just go to some donor dinner thing last year?”
“You mean the one where Donnie and I were forced to sit at the same table as my ex, I sprang a breast milk leak that ruined my favorite blouse, and oh yeah, someone died, and I got blamed for it? That donor dinner?”
Emma cleared her throat.
“Uh, no, I meant a different one. Eh, someone’s at the door. I’ll go see who it is. If it’s Linda I’ll tell her you left.”
Emma ran over to the front door and pressed her eye to the peephole. The relief in her body language signaled it wasn’t Linda.
My visitor was Mr. Henriques, my retired next-door neighbor. At least I assumed he was retired, based on the fact that he seemed to spend his days at home, observing the comings and goings of Uakoko Street.
“Eh Mr. Henriques,” Emma said. “Nice to see you. Come in. You like some coffee?”
CHAPTER 3
MR. HENRIQUES WAS ABOUT my height, with a moon face and a few strands of black hair spread thinly over a large head. I couldn’t help it: I found Mr. Henriques thoroughly annoying. I also felt guilty about this because I could tell he was lonely.
“Oh, hello Mrs. Nakamura. Mrs. Gonsalves. Just a glass of orange juice, please.” He came in and sat on the couch cushion next to Emma. “What's the matter with the Ladds? They’re making so much noise I cannot hear my shows.”
“I don’t have any orange juice,” I said. “Did you say something is going on next door?”
He braced his hands on his knees and stood up.
“I like show you.”
Emma and I followed Mr. Henriques out the front door and onto the wraparound lanai. He led us around to the back. From the corner of the lanai, we could see the rental unit through the leggy papala and bushy strawberry guava that I kept at roof-height for privacy’s sake. On the far side of the rental unit was Mr. Henriques’s house. It was a little shabby, and the metal roof needed repainting. But he kept his lawn neatly-trimmed and his carport well-organized, and he never let mail or newspapers stack up.
“I don’t hear anything,” I said. “Really, they were making enough noise to disturb you inside your house?”
“Well it’s quiet now,” he admitted.
“What did you hear before?” Emma asked.
“They was arguing,” he said. “Like, real loud kine.”
“Mr. Henriques, if you think there’s an actual emergency—”
“I know. Call 9-1-1 right away,” he said sheepishly. “Otherwise give ‘em their privacy.”
“It’s wonderful to hear your concern for your neighbors’ well-being, truly,” I said.
“Well, I got no one else to look after these days. Might as well make myself useful, ah?”
Instead of using the conversational pause to take his leave, Henriques leaned on the railing of the lanai as if he were settling in for a long chat.
“Eh, Mrs. Gonsalves, your husband here?”
Emma started to answer but I cut her off.
“Donnie’s out at the moment.” If Mr. Henriques knew that Donnie and baby Francesca were traveling on the mainland and that I was here alone, he would only ramp up his helpful visits.
“I was wondering how come Donnie’s Drive-Inn was all closed up,” he said. “You’re not closing for good, ah?”
“No, not at all. It’s just for a couple of weeks.”
“You and Mr. Gonsalves getting divorced? That’s gonna be hard for you, single working mom with a new baby.”
“No! Of course not. We’re just doing some renovations. We thought this would be a perfect time. The college and high school spring break both happened to fall on the same dates this year, so half of Mahina’s vacationing in Vegas right now.”
Including my husband and daughter. Donnie thought it was important for Francesca to meet his family members. His uncle in Las Vegas, for one, wasn’t getting any younger. My appalling stepson Davison lived there too, and had a kid of his own, about Francesca’s age.
Mr. Henriques frowned.
“You think I should talk to Mr. Ladd? You know, give him some hints about how to treat the wife? It’s not right for them to be shouting at each other like that.”
“I don’t think Molly’s gonna let you,” Emma said.
“Look,” I said, “It’s true, I am being protective of Jandie and her husband. When they signed their lease, they specifically said they wanted to live somewhere quiet, where fans wouldn’t bother them. At first I thought they were being a little extreme, but now? I’m starting to understand. I mean, just today I had someone I thought was my best friend, pretend to come by to visit me, but all along it was a ruse to wangle a face-to-face with Jandie.”
“Hey!” Emma objected.
“And then a former coworker who I haven’t seen in years pops up and demands I arm-twist Jandie into featuring this woman’s horrible little dogs on her social media. The whole reason Jandie and her husband are in Mahina in the first place is because they want a break from the spotlight.”
“Oh yeah, Jandie, maybe,” Mr. Henriques said. “But I think Mr. Ladd would like to have a little bit of that spotlight shining on him again.”
CHAPTER 4
BY THE TIME MR. HENRIQUES finally left, it was close to lunchtime. Emma wandered into the kitchen and opened the freezer side of the refrigerator.
“Wow, Donnie set you up good. There’s like a year’s worth of food in here. What a mensch.”
“I know. It was thoughtful of him. It’s strange not having Donnie and the baby here. The house seems so empty. I think I’m starting to miss them.”
I heard the microwave run. Emma wandered back out to the living room holding a bowl piled high with steaming chow fun and pulled a chair up next to where I was working.
“What are you doing, Molly?”
I lifted my hands from the keyboard.
“What do you mean, what am I doing? I do all kinds of stuff on the computer.”
“Yeah, but you’re doing it secretively. I can tell cause the sneaky way you’re typing.”
Emma stared at me accusingly as she chewed her chow fun.
“Fine. I was searching for Edward Ladd. My tenant. It’s a common name, unfortunately.”
Emma pointed at me dramatically.
“Aha! Stalking your tenants. After you told everyone else to leave ‘em alone.”
“Yeah, well, the difference is, what I’m doing doesn’t bother them because they don’t know I’m doing it.”
Emma scooted her chair closer and peered at my computer screen.
“What are you looking for? You find anything good?”
“Not yet. I was wondering what Mr. Henriques meant about Ladd missing the spotlight. Should I know who he is? Is he some infamous serial killer or something?”
“Why don’t you just ask him?”
“What, ask my tenant if he’s a serial killer?”
“No, ask Mr. Henriques what he meant. He’s lonely, Molly, can’t you tell? He’d love for someone to listen to all his conspiracy theories an’ stuff.”
“I’d really rather not.”
Emma shoved my shoulder.
“Eh, Molly. Try Ed Ladd. Instead of Edward.”
“I already did.”
“How about Teddy or Ted?”
“Oh, good idea. Hm. No, nope, no. Oh my goodness, that is definitely not him.”
“Put safe search on,” Emma suggested.
“Oh yeah, good idea. Okay, let’s try again. I’m still not...wait a second. What? No way. Seriously?”
Emma bounced impatiently in her chair.
“What is it, Molly?”
“Hang on, let me show you something.”
I went to my bookshelf and pulled down a book. I was unpleasantly surprised to see it was speckled with brownish-orange mold. The pages looked chewed around the edges.
“What’s that?” Emma asked.
“I guess I haven’t read this in a while. Mahina weather isn’t great for books, is it?”
Emma took the book from me.
“Ew. You should buy a dehumidifier. Where’d you get this?”
“I bought it for myself as a treat after I left my corporate job.”
“Seriously, Molly? You used to have a real job? How come I never knew this?”
“It didn’t last long. It’s not something I care to discuss.”
“Huh.” Emma leafed through the pages. “I thought about going into industry, you know. Lotta my old classmates ended up there. Working at seed companies, or chemical companies. It’s good money. How’d you like it?”
“I didn’t,” I said. “Everything was about bringing in money and tying yourself in knots catering to entitled, unreasonable clients.”
“Oh yes, so very different from teaching at Mahina State.”
“I am aware of the irony.”
“You should toss this and get a new copy.” Emma handed the book back to me. “It’s falling apart.”
“No, I’m keeping it,” I said. “It’s out of print. And it’s signed by the author. Maybe it’ll be worth something someday.”
“The author? Who you think is living in your rental unit right now?”
“It could be him. What do you think?”
Emma turned the book over and scowled at the author photo on the back cover.
“This guy has hair.”
“Well, it’s been a couple of decades.”
“Eh Molly, you know who would be interested in this? Pat.”
“Emma, that’s a great idea! Pat can get to the bottom of this.”
Pat Flanagan used to work the crime beat for our local paper, the County Courier, before they laid off most of their staff. He started his own newsblog, Island Confidential, and took a job teaching composition at Mahina State, which is how Emma and I met him. The three of us were inseparable, until he moved to Honolulu to take a job at an acclaimed alternative weekly. The move was great for Pat’s career, a completely rational decision on his part. But I still missed him. I’m pretty sure Emma did too.
“Should I call him right now?” I asked.
“Good idea. I’ll get us some wine.”
“I guess it is after noon. But not Donnie’s good wine, Emma. It costs a fortune, and I would never say it to him, but I honestly can’t tell the difference. Can you go into the pantry and grab a box? Try not to knock over the wall of Spam.”
CHAPTER 5
BY THAT EVENING IT was raining so hard it would have been dangerous for Emma to drive home, even if she had been sober. I set her up on the living room couch with a blanket and pillow. She was out by nine. It took me a little longer to get to sleep. People describe the sound of rain falling on a metal roof as “restful.” Which, sure, if you like the sound of someone pouring buckshot into a metal garbage can right over your head.
The next morning I thought at first I had gotten up early. But I hadn’t. It just seemed dark because of the dense cloud cover.
I walked out to the kitchen and brewed myself a cup of coffee. Emma was fast asleep on the couch, unbothered by the rumbling of the coffee maker. I took my cup out to the lanai and watched sheets of rain sweep across the cemetery behind my house.
I saw something move out on the lawn. A big red-and-white golf umbrella propelled by a scurrying little pair of legs. My neighbor Mr. Henriques was heading my way.
I ran around to the front door and headed him off before he could knock and wake up everyone in the house. But then I remembered Donnie and the baby were on the mainland and the only person inside was Emma.
Mr. Henriques shook out his umbrella, spattering both of us. He apologized and set it down on the porch. I invited him inside and tried to jostle Emma awake, but she muttered something and pulled a pillow over her head.
“Would you like a cup of coffee, Mr. Henriques?” I asked.
“Do you have orange juice?”
“No, I’m afraid I still don’t.”
“Coffee’s okay then.”
I brewed him a cup, and a second cup for me, and set out the cream and sugar on the dining table.
“Sorry to bother you again,” he said as he got seated. “Thanks for the coffee, ah? I thought I should tell you right away.”
Mr. Henriques dumped the entire contents of the cream carton into his coffee cup, leaving me to drink mine black.
“So, Mr. Henriques, what is it you have to tell me? It must be important to come out in this weather.” I sipped and tried not to wrinkle my nose. Mizuno Mart house brand coffee without any cream in it tastes like paving tar.
“There’s no one in the house,” said Mr. Henriques.
“I don’t understand. You and I are sitting right here, and Emma is over there on the couch. Wait. You don’t mean...”
“Mr. Henriques looked embarrassed.
“My renters’ house? Were you spying on Jandie and her husband?”
“Nah, nah, not spying. I saw the jalousies was open. The rainwater was going to get in an’ cause damage.”
“Oh. Well that seems reasonable, I guess.”
“I went over an’ knocked and no one answered. I wanted to make sure everything was ok. I know you said stay away from ‘em, only I suspected something was wrong. I was worried about their safety.”
“Do I smell coffee?” I heard Emma ask from the couch. “Eh, howzit, Mr. Henriques.”
“Mr. Henriques was just telling me he saw the windows open on the rental unit,” I said. “And when he knocked, no one answered.”
“I’m listening. I’m gonna make myself some coffee.” Emma ambled into the kitchen.
“So what happened then?” I asked.
“Well I went inside to see what was going on.”
“Okay. I think that’s technically breaking and entering. So what did you find? A dead body or something?”
“No.” He fidgeted. “Nobody there, the house was empty. They was gone.”
“Gone like empty? Like they’d packed up and left?”
“No, the furniture and everything was there.”
“So you broke into the rental unit when the occupants were away.”
Mr. Henriques concentrated very hard on sipping his creamy coffee.
“I’m glad you’re being honest with me, Mr. Henriques, but do you understand why it was a bad idea to go inside? What if someone had been inside and thought you were a burglar? You could’ve gotten shot.”
Emma brought her coffee over and sat down at the table with us. She picked up the cream carton, shook it, and put it back down. She sighed and spooned four heaping spoonsful of sugar into her cup.
“You see any broken windows?” Emma asked. “Blood spatters anywhere?”
“No,” I said before he could answer. “They just happened to be out. Let’s hope they don’t notice and please, Mr. Henriques, never go into their house unless they specifically invite you.”
“But where’d they go? They shouldn’t be out in this weather,” he objected.
“You were out in this weather,” I said testily. “You walked over here.”
“But they left the windows open,” he said.
“Good for you, Mr. Henriques,” Emma said. “You stopped the rain from coming in and now Molly and Donnie don’t have to pay to fix water damage.”
“I appreciate your good intentions,” I said. “Next time you see something amiss, please just knock. If they don’t answer, come here and let Donnie or me know. We’ll figure out what to do.”
“A lot of people have guns, you know,” Emma said. “You coulda been shot.”
“I already told him that, Emma.”
His eyes widened.
“Do you think Jandie would shoot me?”
“Nah, I can’t see Jandie shooting anyone,” Emma said. “But the husband might, you know.”
“Eh, when I was inside, I saw they got da kine, a big saltwater aquarium.”
“They what?” I said.
“I got one aquarium too, you know,” Mr. Henriques said. “Small kine. Eh, I just caught a couple snowflake eel down at the tidepools. Maybe I could give ‘em one.”
“Did you see any water damage?” I asked.
Emma reached over and shoved my shoulder. “Who cares about water damage, Molly? You get Jandie Brand staying at your house.”
“Yes I do. Jandie Brand and her saltwater aquarium.”
I watched Mr. Henriques tip his cup back to finish the last drop of his cream-with-coffee.
“Thank you so much for this, Mrs. Gonsalves.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“No problem,” I said. “Always a pleasure.”
“Cream in my coffee is a real treat for me.”
“I know. I like it too.”
“I don’t get to enjoy it much. I’m on a fixed income, you know.”
“Oh.” Well, that made me feel bad. “Um, look, Mr. Henriques, when we closed down the Drive-Inn to do the renovations? We had to bring home a lot of food. More than we could possibly eat. Could I get you to take home a tray or two? It’s frozen, so it’ll last.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Mrs. Gonsalves...”
“Please. It’s just taking up room in the freezer. You’d be doing me a favor.”
Emma and I stood on the porch and watched Mr. Henriques make his way back to his house. In one hand he held his giant golf umbrella. In the other he clutched a Mizuno Mart shopping tote containing foil trays of chow mein and chicken katsu. One protein and one vegetable.
“It is kind of weird for Jandie and her husband to be out when the weather’s like this,” Emma said.
“Maybe they were spending time with friends, and they got stuck and had to stay overnight. Just like you did,” I said.
“Sure,” Emma said. “Maybe.”
CHAPTER 6
BY THE TIME EMMA AND I had gotten the dishes washed up, the rain had diminished from “deluge” to “normal for Mahina.” I did my express-dress (quick shower, minimal makeup, glop on some hair product and hope for the best) and made the short drive to morning Mass at St. Damien’s. My showing up baby-less did not go unnoticed. A pack of aunties intercepted me on the way back to my car and would not let me leave until I had assured them that Francesca was fine, Donnie was perfectly capable of providing her safe passage to the Mainland and back, and the closure of Donnie’s Drive-Inn was only temporary. We’d soon be back in business better than ever, I insisted. It was more social interaction than I’d bargained for, and I sped home with the sole objective of collapsing into bed.
