Murder in Honolulu: A Skye Delaney Mystery (33 page)

Ridge looked at his reluctant host and
asked: "Do you have any idea what Baldwin planned to use these
for?"

"I never talked to him about this stuff,"
she said nervously. "He never offered to tell me why he kept so
many weapons, except to say they were for protection."

"Protection, my ass," growled Kawakami.
"He's the one that people need to be protected from."

"What's in there?" Ridge asked Maria,
pointing at a closed door in the back of the room.

"I-I don't know," she stammered. "Trevor
always keeps it locked."

"Well, maybe we should see what's behind
door number one," Kawakami said humorlessly.

"Yeah, I agree," Ridge said.

It took a crowbar and some determination to
pry the door open. We went into what appeared to be a darkroom and
cut on the light. There were several black and white pictures and
color enlargements clipped to a line. The first one I honed in on
was a close-up photograph of Darlene and Edwin Axelrod kissing
passionately. I had to admit that it was a much better picture than
my own photos of the two former lovers. The second photograph was
also of the adulterers in an even more steamy display of lust and
loins.

Then my eyes rested on a picture that Ridge
saw at the same time, prompting him to say: "What the hell..."

It was a photo of Ridge and me in living
color on a day where we got wild and crazy and decided on the spur
of the moment to get naked and intimate at Ridge's house.

"This sick bastard has really found some
wicked ways to get his kicks," Kawakami said.

I think I was more embarrassed than Ridge.
And I think Kawakami was more embarrassed than Ridge or me.

"Try not to stare
too hard
at it,
Kawakami," I teased.

Ridge ripped the picture down. "He was in
my
house?"

"I think I can relate all too well," I told
him sympathetically. I looked at the picture again. From the angle,
I realized it could have been taken through an opening in the
blinds from the outside, without either of us being the wiser.

"Just who
and
what are we dealing
with here?" Ridge asked angrily.

"I'd say we've got a peeping Tom who murders
people on the side," I suggested, suspecting it went even further
than that.

My eyes scanned the other photos on display.
Most were of me alone, with Ollie, more with Ridge, and even one of
me with Carter in the doorway of my office.

"I'll look around some more out there,"
Kawakami said tactfully. "See what other interesting stuff the
asshole's got lying around."

We watched him leave before Ridge asked me:
"Why you—why us? What the hell's going on here, Skye?"

I decided to tell him what I couldn't bring
myself to do before now, as I put two and two together. "I think
Carter hired him to spy on me..."

Ridge knitted his brows. "What the hell
for?"

I hunched a shoulder. "Who knows?"

"Why don't you take a guess," he
pressed.

Well it had to come out sooner or later, I
thought. After sucking in a deep breath, I said: "I think Carter
developed an obsession for me that somehow got out of hand. He must
have paid Baldwin to take pictures, only Baldwin kept some for his
private stash—"

I saw no need to tell him about the journal
at this point. As far as I was concerned, it should have been
buried with Carter.

Ridge set his jaw, looking confused. "So
you're telling me that Delaney and Baldwin were in this
together?"

I responded: "Only to a point, I think.
Carter certainly had nothing to do with what happened after his
death. But Baldwin worked for him, apparently doing whatever little
jobs Carter had in mind—till he caught Baldwin stealing and fired
him. I think that he may have killed Carter out of revenge and
killed the others to cover his tracks—"

Ridge ran both hands across the top of his
head and said: "This whole thing is crazy."

I agreed. "I'm sorry, Ridge," I said sadly.
More than he knew.

"Yeah," he snorted. "We'll talk about it
later—"

The forensic investigation team took over
and more evidence was discovered linking Trevor Baldwin to Antonio
Ramirez, including a first aid kit and a sterile gauze roll with
possible DNA from Ramirez, as well as circumstantial evidence
connecting Baldwin to the death of Edwin Axelrod and Kalolo Nawahi.
But it was the association between Baldwin and Carter involving me
that was most unsettling. I wondered if Carter even had a clue as
to what he was getting himself into by intruding into my life and
Ridge's for reasons that made little sense, eventually costing him
his life.

Ridge confiscated the more explicit photos
and negatives of me and us, while Kawakami showed some class by
turning his back to the whole thing. Meanwhile, the police had put
out an APB on Trevor Baldwin. They believed he was still in town
and, based on his impressive collection of weapons, he was
described as a loose cannon willing to kill anyone who got near
him.

* * *

Trevor Baldwin had been very clever, I
thought. My home had been bugged and I assume the same was true for
my office.

"This must be how he managed to stay one
step ahead of the game," I told Ridge as we sat in my living room
sipping wine. Outside, was an officer Ridge had assigned as my
twenty-four-hour home and property guard. Inside, he had joined
Ollie in protecting me from the man Ridge called a voyeuristic
psychopath. "Trevor Baldwin had to have known about my initial
meeting with Carter and our last scheduled appointment," I
continued. "Then he and Ramirez must have followed him here to my
house. But Baldwin couldn't have known at the time about Carter's
blood type, which wasn't public info, until he overheard us talking
about it at some point. The fact that Antonio Ramirez happened to
have the same AB negative blood type was probably purely
coincidental, but made him a perfect scapegoat nevertheless to get
Baldwin off the hook. Almost—"

Ridge sipped his wine and then asked: "But
why didn't Baldwin just blackmail Delaney or Edwin Axelrod? He
probably had enough secrets on both men to bury them if he wanted
to, figuratively speaking, while still keeping the money coming
in."

"Maybe he found a higher bidder for his
services," I suggested.

"You mean like Kazuo Pelekai?" Ridge
asked.

"Why not?" I argued. "Once Baldwin had
damaging information against Darlene
and
Carter, it wouldn't
take much for him to discover someone who stood to gain from it.
But Pelekai may have seen Trevor Baldwin as an unstable personality
who could be more useful taking out Carter altogether—"

Ridge nodded in agreement and said: "Too bad
we may never be able to prove it, unless Baldwin suddenly develops
a conscience when we get him in custody—"

"I still haven't quite figured out why
Kalolo Nawahi and Edwin Axelrod had to die," I muttered, staring
into my wine. "Baldwin obviously knew about their connection to
Darlene. He must have used them to throw off the investigation and
me—"

"Maybe," said Ridge. "But I wouldn't put it
past Kazuo Pelekai to have gotten rid of Axelrod himself since he
probably considered him more of a liability than an asset. And
maybe he took out Nawahi, too, as a smalltime competitor he could
do without."

I couldn't dismiss his logic, even if my
instincts told me that Trevor Baldwin probably also had a hand in
their deaths.

We didn't go to bed till after midnight.
Even then, restless tossing and turning replaced any semblance of a
peaceful sleep.

It wasn't until the following morning over
breakfast that conversation about the revealing photographs and
Carter resumed.

Ridge said with an edge to his voice: "What
I'd like to know is what the hell else did Baldwin discover about
you and me that he spoon fed to your ex?"

"Whatever he learned," I said thoughtfully,
"I'm sure it wasn't very fulfilling for either of them."

A full minute went by before Ridge asked:
"What did Delaney hope to gain by spying on you?"

"I doubt it was to win me back," I told him
reassuringly, scooping up a spoonful of Shredded Wheat. "Knowing
him, though obviously not as well as I thought I did, Carter
probably viewed this as his own private game of voyeurism and
nostalgia all wrapped in one not so neat package, where he made up
the rules as he went along. He probably thought he could control
it." I paused to eat some more cereal. "Only he went too far," I
continued, "and it started to control him instead—"

"That may be great for a psych class," Ridge
said, "but the way I see it, Delaney knew
exactly
what he
was doing. He knew he'd lost a good thing in you and used his money
and power to get back whatever part of you he could." Ridge sipped
his coffee and continued: "He was a mass of contradictions: a
successful attorney and even more successful businessman on the one
hand and a jealous, domineering, gambling, obsessive, weak loser on
the other. As this damned thing has unfolded, Delaney comes across
as something akin to a modern day Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde..."

"I think you're right...and it cost him
dearly," I said sadly, still trying to come to terms with it.

Meanwhile Doctor Frankenstein's monster was
still very much on the prowl.

CHAPTER
FIFTY-FOUR

He'd spotted the roadblock ahead and sensed
something wasn't right. Then he'd heard the following message on
the radio: "We've got an APB out on Trevor Baldwin, age forty-five,
Gulf War vet, suspected of being involved in a number of murders...
He's considered armed and
extremely
dangerous—"

He'd known it was just a matter of time
before they—no, Skye Delaney—put all the pieces together.

She was good at her job, he thought. Just
like Carter Delaney had said.

Trevor blamed his current predicament partly
on the company he kept. None of those stupid bitches could be
trusted to keep their mouths zipped, leading Skye and her detective
boyfriend straight to his door.

Now he was on the run. He'd been prepared
for this moment from the very beginning. It was up to him now to do
what he had to do before the trigger-happy cops got to him first
and took him down.

Trevor drove around in a car he'd stolen
after ditching his last night. He wanted Skye Delaney now that
everything was out in the open. But how? They were probably
guarding her twenty-four-seven.

He couldn't even eavesdrop on her
conversations anymore now that they'd discovered the bugs.

What would you do Carter if you were in
my shoes?
Trevor thought to himself.
Oh, but you were once,
weren't you? It was your idea to spy on your ex-lady and report
back to you her every move—and who she moved with.

I did the grunt work and you repaid me by
firing my ass,
he thought angrily
. Did you think I'd let you
get away with that, especially after what I had on you?

Hell no! You got what you deserved—just
like Axelrod and that bastard Ramirez. All of you tried to screw me
over
.

Now it's your turn to pay the piper,
Skye
, Trevor told himself. Borrowing something his mother
always used to tell him, he said aloud: "Where there's a will,
there's a way."

He would find that way.

Skye Delaney, you owe me one,
he
thought
. And I intend to collect!

But first, he needed somewhere to hide out.
Lay low for a while.

And he knew the perfect place...

CHAPTER
FIFTY-FIVE

After three days of round-the-clock
protection, I did a reality check and decided I wasn't ready to
give up my freedom by being a virtual prisoner in my own home. Not
to mention my work as a security consultant and private
investigator was starting to suffer. My reliability was on the line
and I had bills to pay. Besides, I was a big girl and used to
taking care of myself.

If Trevor Baldwin was smart, he would
already be halfway to Timbuktu, I thought, since every law
enforcement officer in the state was looking for him. But most
dangerous felons were anything but smart in the final analysis. I
had to assume that he was still hanging around Honolulu waiting to
add me to his collection of corpses. If so, I refused to remain a
stationary target for him even in the continual company of Ridge
and Ollie.

Ridge suddenly remembered just how stubborn
I could be and reluctantly gave in to my desire to return to work.
It helped that he also had a job to go back to and he wasn't being
paid to baby sit me twenty-four hours a day. Not that he was
complaining. That was left for me to do.

Ridge insisted that his officer-bodyguard
remain close by wherever I went. Under the circumstances, I could
hardly object.

That afternoon, I took Ollie with me to the
office. I figured it never hurt to have him tag along as an added
safety measure. At least until Trevor Baldwin was behind bars.
Officer James Yayoshi was just outside the door if we needed
him.

I had played catch up on the computer for
little more than an hour when Ollie suddenly jumped to the floor
from the chair he was comfortably occupying and bolted for the
door, barking and growling.

"What's wrong, boy?" I asked, figuring that
he must have been spooked by something. Or someone. I wasn't taking
any chances so I grabbed the 9-millimeter from my purse and
waited.

Ollie continued to bark at the closed door,
jumping up against it. I grabbed his collar to try to restrain him
even as I called out to the officer: "Everything all right out
there, James?"

When he failed to answer, I knew something
was very wrong.