Murder in Honolulu: A Skye Delaney Mystery (11 page)

"Carter was murdered in my house, Ridge.
Until I know why, please don't ask me to look the other way." I
softened my tone and added: "Meanwhile, I'll do my best to avoid
stepping on the toes of police detectives...or at least one in
particular—"

Of course, I could offer no guarantees.
Wisely, Ridge never asked for any.

* * *

After I got to my office, I went over my
recent case files with a fine tooth comb. I couldn't rule out that
someone with an unfulfilled grudge or perhaps extreme
dissatisfaction with my work might have wished to do away with me.
I wondered if somehow Carter's death might have tragically been a
case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The problem with that theory was that he
should not have been at my house in the first place. So why was he?
If the killer had meant to kill me, why kill Carter instead and
keep me alive for another day to be better prepared for the next
possible attempt?

My search produced nothing viable that I
could give to the police, much less send my own warning bells into
high alert. I made a couple of calls to clients where the
conclusion of the case had caused particular grief and resentment
to others. They gave no indication they were in fear of their lives
and doubted I had any reason to be as it related to them.

I kept the possibilities open and would keep
backtracking on the small chance that I was a marked woman. But my
better half believed that the intended target was Carter, and the
mission had been accomplished.

Not waiting around to see if there was a DNA
match with a known offender, I spent the next two and a half hours
trying in vain to locate a clinic or hospital where someone with AB
negative blood had been treated for an injury, possibly a dog bite,
in the last few days. So far, the results had been pretty much the
same with statements such as: "We have no record of anyone with
that blood type or dog bite being treated recently."

I put the bottled water to my lips in
frustration and thirst, while viewing my computer screen and the
dwindling number of medical facilities left in the city. Had
Ollie's bite been deep enough for the person to require treatment?
I wondered. I also considered that the victim could have gone to a
private physician or somewhere outside Honolulu.

Luck was always a welcome friend in the
private eye business, especially if it came quickly and
conveniently. That did not seem to be in the cards this day, until
a ray of hope suddenly emerged...

"Yes, someone with type AB negative blood
was treated at the Honolulu Medical Center two days ago," said the
nurse informatively, "and released..."

"What can you tell me about the patient?" I
asked hopefully.

A pause. "I'm afraid, not much," she said.
"All patient records are confidential."

I posed as an investigator with the Centers
for Disease Control, and explained that we were tracking
individuals with this rare blood type who may be susceptible to a
potentially deadly bacteria strain.

"All we really need is some basic
information on the patient," I said smoothly. "Race, age, and
gender can usually give us a good indication of whether the person
is a high or low risk candidate. And, of course, a name so that we
can get in touch with him or her to be tested, if necessary—"

The nurse seemed to be biting the bait.
"Well, let's see..." she mumbled. "Does a seven-year-old
Filipino
girl sound like a
high risk candidate?"

"No," I told her, and slouched in my chair.
Damn. Unfortunately, I was back to square one.

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

Ridge stepped into the office of Honolulu
Mayor Lloyd Newman, who had requested to speak to him personally as
the detective in charge of the Carter Delaney murder investigation.
Ridge had tried to get around this, not wanting or needing the
mayor to tell him how to do his job. But when the mayor wants to
see you, you go. So ordered his boss Captain Felix Chu, who was
also present, along with Detective Henry Kawakami.

They were seated around a square glass
table. This was to be the sixty-something mayor's last term in
office, with an eye supposedly on the governorship.

But there was still some unfinished
business.

After some small talk, mostly by the mayor,
he got serious and said to Ridge in a tough voice: "I don't think I
need to tell you, Detective Larsen, that it's imperative we get to
the bottom of Carter Delaney's murder as quickly as possible."

"I understand that, sir," Ridge responded
tightly, looking him right in the eye.

"Do you?" Newman asked before glancing at
Captain Chu, a thirty-year veteran on the force.

"What's not to understand?" Ridge asked,
hoisting a brow, as if he hadn't a clue. "You want the case solved.
So do I."

Newman sucked in a breath, looked at
Homicide Detective Kawakami who was a thirty-seven-year-old native
Hawaiian, and back at Ridge, before saying: "When you were assigned
this case, Detective Larsen, the assumption was that we were
looking at a possible suicide." He paused, eyeing all the parties
present. "Now that we know Carter Delaney was a victim of foul
play—"

Ridge's brows came together, not liking the
implication. He decided to speak up before this went any further.
"Are you saying you don't think I'm qualified to run this
investigation?"

"Not at all, detective," Newman said calmly.
"You're a damned good cop. At least that's what everyone keeps
telling me. But Delaney was a good friend of mine, and active in
the community. It's important to people in this city that we don't
give the impression of dragging our feet in bringing his killer to
justice. For that reason, we think you should have as much help as
you need, leaving no stones unturned in conducting this
investigation."

He stopped and deferred to Captain Chu, who
said flatly: "It's still your case, Ridge. But I'm bringing in
Detective Kawakami to help run the investigation. Hopefully,
together, you two can make everybody happy by getting some hard
evidence and arresting whoever is responsible for Carter Delaney's
death." Sighing, he faced Ridge and asked: "Any questions?"

Ridge felt as though he was being put on the
spot. He could rant and rave about this conspiracy to undermine his
authority in investigating Carter Delaney's death. But what good
would it do, when he was clearly outnumbered by those who counted?
He decided to make the best of the situation and try to put this
case behind him as soon as possible.

"None whatsoever," he told his boss.

Chu nodded agreeably, as did Newman.

Ridge regarded the muscular Henry Kawakami,
whom he had worked with briefly once before, and said: "Welcome
aboard."

Kawakami nodded and asked: "I understand you
ran a DNA sample of a suspect bitten by Skye Delaney's dog through
the national database?"

Ridge pursed his lips. "Yeah. There was no
match," he said. "Whoever the dog bit, they aren't in the system.
But it did indicate that the DNA belonged to a male." In fact, he
had already assumed this to be the case, given the nature of
Delaney's murder. But Ridge wasn't ruling out female involvement in
the homicide, with the victim's widow a prime suspect, considering
recent circumstances.

"So we'll have to rely more on good
old-fashioned detective work to get the bastard," Kawakami said,
running a hand through his coarse dark hair.

"Yeah, whatever it takes," Ridge said.

Everyone seemed in agreement on that.

"There is one other thing..." Newman said,
looking directly at Ridge.

Isn't there always
?
Ridge
thought to himself, sensing what was coming.

"I've heard rumors that you're involved with
Carter Delaney's ex-wife—" Newman looked uncomfortable mentioning
it.

Ridge thought about denying it, especially
with Captain Chu looking on, but then figured what was the point?
Especially when he wanted their relationship to become public
knowledge. The fact that he was seeing Skye had nothing to do with
this case, per se. Or his ability to conduct the investigation.

"They're more than just rumors," Ridge
admitted. "Skye and I are dating, so..."

"I understand she's an ex-cop turned
security consultant and private eye," Newman said.

He's obviously done his homework
,
Ridge thought. Or more like he'd gotten someone else to do it for
him.

"Right on all counts," Ridge said, wondering
where this was going.

Newman scratched his nose. "Will she be a
problem?"

Ridge raised a brow. "A problem...?" He knew
damned well what the mayor was talking about, but he wanted to
force him to say it.

Newman adjusted in the chair. "The last
thing we need is for Ms. Delaney, with her background and
professional skills, interfering with this investigation. Think you
can keep her in line?"

Ridge thought about it for maybe one second,
then said: "With all due respect, Mayor, it's not my job to keep
Skye Delaney in line. I have no control over what she does as a
private investigator or citizen for that matter—"

Newman frowned. "Don't get me wrong,
Detective Larsen, I don't give a damn about who you're sleeping
with. This is about
not
jeopardizing this case for any
conflicts of interest. I hope I'm making myself clear."

Ridge composed himself before responding.
"You are. But, just for the record, there is no conflict on my
part. I intend to treat this case like any other and Skye
completely understands that. She'd never ask or expect me to
compromise the investigation in any way."
Not that she's above
asking for favors
, Ridge thought, which he was happy to give,
as long as they both understood where to draw the line.

Captain Chu seemed satisfied and so did
Detective Kawakami. Mayor Newman gave a polite nod and said: "Glad
to hear that." He stood. "I guess this meeting is over. The sooner
you wrap this case up, the better for all of us."

Ridge took the words seriously, believing
that the longer the investigation dragged out, the greater the
pressure to solve Carter Delaney's murder, particularly with Skye
just as determined to get at the truth.

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

It was my turn to pay Darlene Delaney a
visit.

This time it was anything but a
get-acquainted house call. Whatever problems she and Carter may
have had, there was no escaping the fact that the woman he had
chosen over me was having an affair at the time of his death and
was also involved with a drug dealer. In my mind and experience,
that was more than sufficient reason to make her a leading suspect
in Carter's murder before, during, or after the fact.

Whomever Ollie bit had no DNA record on file
with CODIS. But the person did have AB negative blood, which would
help narrow the field. Since the suspect was believed to be a male,
that would rule Darlene out. However, she got no free pass from me
for possibly being complicit in Carter's murder.

The electronic gate was open when I arrived.
Darlene's BMW was parked in the driveway. It looked like it had
just been washed.
At least she has her priorities in order
,
I thought cynically. Or maybe she had something to hide. Noticeably
absent was Carter's Cadillac, currently impounded by the police as
possible evidence in his murder.

Professionally dressed in a periwinkle suit
and sandals, I moseyed up to the arched double doors and rang the
bell three times before someone answered. It was not Darlene, but a
forty-something
dark-skinned
female
.

"Yes?" she asked in a non-friendly
voice.

"I'm here to see Ms. Delaney," I said,
unsure of how to address the woman with whom I shared a name and,
for a time, the man behind it.

The woman batted brown eyes at me and said:
"
Mrs
. Delaney is mourning the loss of her husband and isn't
seeing anyone she doesn't have to—"

"I think she'll see me," I said firmly.
"Tell her it's Skye Delaney—"

She gave me a disbelieving look, as if I
somehow did not measure up to the name, then finally said: "Just a
moment..." before closing the doors behind her.

When they opened again, it was Darlene who
stood there. She was a far cry from the stylish woman I was used to
seeing. She wore no makeup and had on an oversized sweater, jeans,
and was barefoot.

"Elberta is our housekeeper," Darlene told
me. "With the press hounding me since Carter's death, I've found it
easier to have her screen visitors."

I understood, but said bluntly: "We need to
talk!"

She regarded me coldly. "I think you're
right," she spat, "considering that my husband was
murdered
in
your
house—"

It was a reality I was still trying to wrap
my mind around, even as I considered what role, if any, his widow
may have played in his death.

Once inside, I glanced around at the
spacious, immaculate setting with high-beamed ceilings, walls
painted in earth tones, French doors, and plantation shutters. The
architecture was exquisite and the bamboo floors were accentuated
with Oriental rugs. I marveled at the Great Room's contemporary
furnishings.

All in all, the place seemed to represent
everything Carter had dreamed of in a home, right down to the
neoclassical art and collectibles. I got a glimpse of Elberta
moving from one room to another, but not before she pinned me with
her glare. She seemed to resent my presence.

Might as well get used to me,
I
thought,
because you and your employer are going to be seeing a
lot of Skye Delaney until Carter's murder has been solved and the
killer or killers are brought to justice
.