The Perfect Body, page 8
part #8 of Professor Molly Mysteries Series
“They’re suing Mahina State.”
I didn’t see any reason to hide the news from Margaret. She was obviously connected to the coconut wireless. She’d hear about it before long anyway.
“Why are they suing the university? What did Mahina State do?”
“It’s what we didn’t do. We didn’t block off the terrace, we didn’t put up lighting, and the railing height wasn’t up to modern code. Apparently, it was only twenty-four inches high. Oh, would you mind getting the tape measure from the drawer next to the fridge? I’m curious now.”
Margaret disappeared and came back with the tape measure. She measured out twenty-four inches and touched the end of the tape measure to the floor.
“It’s low,” she said. “Just above my knees.”
“Stephen’s a little taller than you. And men are more top-heavy because they carry their weight in their shoulders, not their hips. I can see how he would have fallen over.”
“So, it was an accident?” Margaret asked brightly.
“Of course it was,” I assured her.
Margaret stared into her hot chocolate.
“Why?” I persisted.
“Professor Park was seeing a friend of mine before he started going out with Dr. Corcoran.”
“Stephen was seeing a friend of yours?”
Margaret nodded.
“Your age?”
“Yes.”
“Ah. Disappointed but not surprised. Have you talked to her since this happened?”
“No. We haven’t been in touch.” Margaret blew over the top of her mug.
“Why not reach out to her?”
“I don’t think she really wants to hear from me. The thing is, I told her it was a bad idea to get involved with Professor Park. I mean, if I were about to make a big mistake, I’d want someone to try to stop me. That’s the only reason I said anything. But I guess she didn’t feel the same way.”
“You didn’t approve of her getting involved with Stephen?” I asked.
“It wasn’t just getting involved with him. She turned down a full-ride scholarship to a graduate program in actuarial science. Just to stay in Mahina to be with him.”
“She turned down a full ride?”
Margaret nodded vigorously. I could tell she was still upset about her friend’s decision. I didn’t blame her. I didn’t even know this young woman, and now I felt the urge to go shake some sense into her.
“Professor, do you think I should tell Professor Park’s parents?”
“That Stephen had been seeing your friend?”
She nodded.
“I don’t know. What would it accomplish now? Would it make them feel any better?”
“They would know that somebody loved their son,” she said “Sorry, I mean, you must have too, of course, but…I don’t know.”
“I’m not sure they’re ready to deal with anything else at this point. If you don’t mind my asking, who is this ‘friend’ you’re referring to?”
I couldn’t imagine that Margaret herself been one of Stephen’s conquests. She seemed far too sensible to fall for him. But then again, so did I.
“Her name is Verna Jackson-Brown,” Margaret said.
“Her last name is really Jackson Browne?” I asked.
“Yes. Why?” Margaret asked.
“Like the singer?”
Margaret shook her head
“Who?” she asked, which made me feel very old.
“Wait a minute.” I rested my hand on Francesca’s fuzzy head. “Verna Jackson-Brown? Isn’t Verna the name of Betty and Niall’s daughter? Betty Jackson, in psychology. Is that your friend’s mom?”
“Verna’s mom is a psych professor,” Margaret said brightly. “Yes, I think that’s right.”
“Stephen Park was dating Betty Jackson’s daughter?”
Margaret shrugged. “I guess so?”
“Does Betty Jackson know?”
“No, I don’t think so. She said they’d kick her out if they knew. Um, can I get more chocolate, Professor? It’s really good.”
“Of course. Help yourself. And please call me Molly. You’re not my student anymore. Unless you’re more comfortable calling me Professor…I don’t know, do whatever you want. But if you’re going into the kitchen, can you refill my water glass?”
“Were those really Professor Park’s parents you had dinner with?” She called back from the kitchen.
“Yes, why?”
“My friend who works at the Lehua Inn told me they were both haole.”
“They are.”
“But Stephen is Korean. Is he adopted?”
She came back with two glasses of water for me. I picked up one and drank half of it in a single gulp.
“Thank you,” I said, “That’s perfect. I can’t believe this is coming up again. Who told you Stephen Park was Korean?”
“Verna. She said she and Stephen had that in common, their mixed background.”
I suppressed a snort.
“Park is a Korean name,” Margaret added, a little defensively. “Isn’t it?”
I touched Francesca’s little nose. “Well Stephen Park is just a big poser, isn’t he?” I cooed. “Park is a Scots name. Stephen let people assume he was half-Korean because in his mind it’s cooler to be half-Korean than just a plain old white guy.”
Margaret looked puzzled.
“So he’s not hapa? I mean, he wasn’t?”
“He was Scottish and Jewish, if you want to call that hapa, but he was not even remotely Korean. He just liked to let people think he was.”
“What? I don’t understand. Why?”
“I guess in his mind being Korean was trendy or something. I don’t know.”
“But didn’t that hurt his parents’ feelings?” Margaret asked.
“I don’t think they knew. And I’m sure not going to be the one to tell them.”
Chapter Twenty
It wasn’t until Donnie came home that night that something clicked into place in my memory. I sat at the counter holding the baby, while he was busy trying to fit foil trays of leftovers into our refrigerator. Donnie lets the staff take home extra food at the end of the day, and whatever they leave, we get.
“Donnie, do you remember Betty Jackson, who I waved to last night?”
Donnie wrote Chicken Chow Fun on a length of blue masking tape and pressed it onto the end of the foil tray.
“Betty? Yes. Your friend, the psychology professor. Her husband’s name is Niall Brown. And they have…four kids?”
“Wow, good memory! Five kids, though. The oldest is named Verna. I just found out she’s already graduated from college. Donnie, I think she was the one who waited on us at the donor dinner.”
“Who?” Donnie asked from inside the refrigerator.
“Betty Jackson’s daughter. Verna Jackson-Brown. Remember, pretty girl, tall, green eyes? She poured the wine? Maybe you were away from the table. Donnie, what would you do if one of baby Francesca’s professors tried to date her? When she’s in college, I mean. She obviously doesn’t have any professors now, because she’s a baby.”
Donnie stood up and looked at me over the refrigerator door.
“I’d kill him,” he said evenly, and went back to fridge-arranging.
“Not literally, though,” I said. “You mean you wouldn’t be happy about it. You’re exaggerating for effect, right?”
“Maybe,” he replied.
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” I watched the baby sleeping in my arms, her little chest rising and falling evenly. If someone ever tried to harm Francesca, or take advantage of her the way Stephen Park took advantage of his students, I would destroy him.
I wondered whether that might not be very Christian of me. I made a mental note to mention it the next time I happened to go to Confession.
Donnie finished fitting everything into the fridge, poured two glasses of Sangiovese, and came over to sit with Francesca and me.
“Why are you talking about Francesca’s professors trying to date her?” Donnie reached over and gently stroked the baby’s fuzzy black hair. “It would be terrible. I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Me neither. But Verna, Betty and Niall’s daughter? The one who was serving us? Apparently, she was dating Stephen Park.”
Donnie shook his head.
“Do the parents know?”
“I don’t know.”
Donnie raised his eyebrows.
“Were you thinking your friend Betty Jackson might have had something to do with Stephen Park’s death?”
“What? I wasn’t even thinking of that,” I lied.
“When you asked me how I’d react, isn’t that what you had in mind?”
“I don’t know. I know I’m not a detective, it’s not really any of my business who killed whom, but the thing is I know everyone involved in this, so it’s kind of hard not to think about it. But Donnie, just follow me here. Betty Jackson is sitting at her table at the far end of the dining hall, right?”
“I remember she waved to you.”
“Exactly. So she’s over there, she sees Stephen is at a table across the dining room, her daughter Verna is working for the catering company waiting tables, Betty watches her daughter interacting with Stephen—”
“Interacting in what way?” Donnie asked.
“The daughter came around to refill drinks. I don’t know, it seemed there was some kind of weird eye contact. Or non-contact, because they wouldn’t look at each other. Anyway. Betty knows Stephen is there. She waits for him to go out for a smoke and follows him onto the terrace, and then…what? Waits until he’s distracted by the sight of someone walking by underneath? And sneaks up, shoves him over the edge, and runs back inside?”
“That ‘someone’ walking by being you?” Donnie asked.
“Yes. It’s been bothering me, to be honest. Donnie, if I hadn’t been walking by at that exact moment—”
“Molly, it wasn’t your fault.”
“Thank you for saying that. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. If I hadn’t walked by right then, Stephen might still be alive.”
“Maybe not,” Donnie said thoughtfully.
“If Betty Jackson were planning on killing someone,” I said, “which seems highly unlikely, but let’s just say she wanted to protect her daughter, which I can understand. Betty would have a much better plan than just running out and shoving Stephen over the railing. Think of how many ways it could’ve gone wrong. What if Stephen had called for help, or shouted, Hey, Betty Jackson from the psychology department, why are you pushing me to my death?”
“Are you sure it was Stephen’s voice you heard calling you?” Donnie asked.
“I don’t know. At the time I was sure it was Stephen. Who else could it have been?”
“Someone who killed Stephen Park and wanted you to think he was still alive?”
“Ew, that’s grotesque. Someone imitates him and then drops his dead body onto the ground?”
“Sorry, I’m not as good as you and Emma at thinking about murders.”
“No, you’re quite good at it. Disturbingly good. Donnie, should I tell Betty? About her daughter and Stephen?”
Donnie glanced at the baby.
“I think a few months ago if you’d asked me, I would’ve said to stay out of it. But now, I’d want to know if it were Francesca.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The idea of happy hour at the Maritime Club had been growing on me ever since Emma suggested it. We used to go all the time before the baby came. So the next afternoon I arranged to meet Emma there. It would be just like old times, I thought.
The Maritime Club was exactly as I remembered it. Weather-beaten clubhouse, an unparalleled view of the blue ocean, and waves crashing on the rocks so close that we got misted with salty seawater. Emma had bought a membership because she thought her husband Yoshi might like it. Yoshi had just moved to Mahina and made no secret of how unimpressed he was. He would say things like, “an Ivy League MBA doesn’t belong in a place like this.” Yoshi’s mellowed a lot since then. He gave up on finding a “suitable” job, took up canoe paddling, and now spends most of his time at the bayfront. These days he thinks the Maritime Club is too pretentious.
The Maritime Club’s menu probably hadn’t changed since Hawaii became a state. Today’s complimentary happy hour snack was rumaki and greasy egg rolls, served with a red-and-yellow yin-yang of ketchup and mustard. To avoid disturbing the other diners we sat outside on the lanai, where the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks would compete with any baby noise. Francesca kept trying to wiggle out of my arms and onto the floor (which was not going to happen). She fussed when I thwarted her, and she also needed a few diaper changes and feedings, but overall, she was an exemplary baby.
“Well, that was an experience,” Emma said as she signed the check.
“It was nice to get out,” I said. “We should do this again.”
“Yeah. Maybe fifteen or twenty years from now.”
“Don’t you worry about Auntie Emma,” I cooed as I wrestled Francesca’s car seat into the base. The Thunderbird’s soft top didn’t leave me much room to maneuver, but I had to keep the top up if I didn’t want the baby getting rained on. “It’s been a long time since she was a baby. She doesn’t remember what it was like. When you’re being held, you want to go explore. When you’re out exploring, you want someone to hold you. I understand.”
“Beh,” Francesca replied.
I had just gotten buckled in and was about to turn the key when a diaper blast shook the car. Then, like thunder follows lightning, came the smell. I unbuckled myself, unbuckled the baby, grabbed the diaper bag, and went back inside to change her in the bathroom. By the time we got on the road, I was feeling fairly frazzled.
When we arrived at home I was surprised to see Donnie’s car in the garage. I felt the hood. It was cool. He’d been here for a while. Very odd.
We came in to find Donnie on the living room couch, glass of whiskey in his hand. The bottle was on the coffee table. He looked shell-shocked.
“Donnie?”
It seemed like he didn’t even hear me. I put the sleeping baby in her crib, turned on the baby monitor, and came back out to the living room.
“Molly,” he said, as if he had just noticed I was there.
I sat down next to him, gently took the whiskey glass from his hand, and sipped it.
“That’s the one you don’t like,” he said as I started coughing.
“Donnie. You’re home early, you look like someone pithed you, and you’re drinking this stuff that tastes like a tire fire. What is going on?”
“It’s peated.”
“What?”
“They burn peat to dry the barley. That gives it the smoky flavor.”
“Donnie.”
He turned to look at me, finally.
“I was arrested,” he said.
“What? Why? For what?”
Donnie took the tire-fire whiskey back and downed it in one gulp.
“For killing Stephen Park.”
“They arrested you? They didn’t drag you out of the restaurant, did they?”
Donnie shook his head.
“Medeiros called and told me to come down to the station.”
“So he literally phoned it in.”
“It was a courtesy.”
“So did you go?”
Donnie nodded.
“But you’re here. I guess they figure you’re not a flight risk. They released you on your own recognizance?” I was proud of myself for remembering the correct legal term.
“It wasn’t quite that easy. Bail was fifty thousand.”
“Fifty thousand dollars? Donnie, where on earth—”
“The home equity line of credit.”
“That we were going to use for Francesca’s college? Oh, listen. She knows we’re talking about her.”
Francesca’s gentle fussing crackled through the baby monitor. I went back to get her.
“Here. Say hi to your daughter. She missed you.”
I plopped the baby into Donnie’s arms and went to pour myself a glass of wine. Thus equipped, I returned to the living room and sat next to my husband and daughter.
“Do you think it’s okay having all this alcohol around the baby?” I asked.
“She’s not drinking it.”
“Fair enough.” I clicked my glass against his.
“Where did you go this afternoon?” Donnie asked. “I thought you’d be here.”
“We went to the Maritime Club for happy hour.”
“With the baby?”
“Yeah. Emma and I hadn’t been in a while. It wasn’t as relaxing as I remember it. Donnie, what is going on? Why, and how, were you supposed to have killed Stephen Park? I was there with you at the donor dinner. I can vouch for you.”
“No, you can’t, Molly.” Donnie stroked the baby’s head.
“Well, okay, maybe they won’t take my word for it because I’m your wife. But Donnie, you were nowhere near Stephen when he fell. You only left the table the one time to take Margaret’s phone call.”
Donnie shook his head.
“Okay, maybe I left the table two times. But Bee Corcoran was there. She should be able to tell them where you were that night. Anyway, what’s your motive supposed to be?”
Donnie frowned a little.
“You,” he said.
“What?”
“That’s their thinking.”
“Me? You mean because I briefly dated Stephen, like a hundred years ago when I first came to Hawaii, before I even met you?”
Donnie nodded.
“Well, that’s an idiotic theory, and it doesn’t make any sense. Unless you believe that your wife is like a pair of shoes that you don’t want anyone else trying on before you buy them. Even then, you don’t go track down the person who tried on your shoes and kill them. You just disinfect your shoes…never mind. I’m not sure where I was going with that. Donnie, my point is that we’ll just have to find one of the servers or someone at another table who can attest that you didn’t go anywhere.” I stood up. “Look, you’ve just been through a lot. Maybe you should get something on your stomach. Have you eaten? I’ll go warm up some Korean chicken.”
“Go ahead and get some for yourself. I’m not hungry. We’ll be right here. The baby and me.”
