Honolulu Hottie Page 3

  CHAPTER FIVE

  My grand plan to slip over to Meyer’s, dump this case on Chance, get back home, and call Benni so I could focus on my relationship had crumbled. No, this was way worse than crumble, this was complete disintegration. I now had an unsolvable case; a list of suspects to build, find, and question; and a partner I didn’t want who drove a car that was about as subtle as a stripper hungry for tips. This day had definitely gone into the toilet. The problem was, I couldn’t abandon my friend.

  Chance and I agreed our first stop should be Victor Durisseau’s office, which was a rented suite at 1888 Kalākaua Avenue. On the drive past the 1888 address, my jaw dropped at the pair of glass towers rising skyward.

  “He...he had an office...there?” Chance stammered.

  The Ferrari’s tires thump-thumped with the sound of lane markers under rolling rubber. I barked, “Keep your eyes on the road, Chance.”

  He glanced over at me and said what we were both thinking. “He rents an office in the Waikīkī Landmark? Do you know how much those places cost?”

  “No idea,” I said. “And I don’t want to know. Take the next left so we can go back, yah?”

  The kid made the turn, but he was wound up. Was he bent out of shape because the victim did business in a place far swankier than his own one-bedroom unit at the Sunsetter Apartments? “That place has thirty-five stories,” he said. “It’s got the highest bridge in Honolulu. And it connects the two towers.”

  “Let me guess, you wanted to rent there.” Chance probably had enough money for a penthouse overlooking the sands of Waikīkī Beach. I could see him dallying with hot blondes in skimpy sundresses as they spent their days shopping in high-end boutiques or sipping umbrella drinks at outdoor bars. For the second time today, I wondered why he hadn’t indulged himself.

  Chance found the underground, overpriced parking lot and shelled out the cash to allow us the privilege of wedging the Ferrari between two other vehicles. Never once did he stop his rant. “McKenna, there are five floors of penthouses up there. They’ve got a pool on the rooftop.”

  I snickered at his outrage. “Maybe you want to move?”

  With the car alarm set, Chance rolled his eyes and stormed off. He grumbled, “The Ferrari was the last straw. My dad wouldn’t pay for this place.”

  I followed Last Chance to the elevators, listening to him gripe about the unfairness of his father being in control of his finances. I gave Chance’s old man a mental thumbs up for good decisions.

  We finally found the directory. As it turned out, the building only had three floors of commercial space. Victor’s business, however, wasn’t even listed. Chance sounded confused when he spoke. “Victor’s suite...is occupied by...an office services company? What’s that all about?”

  I double-checked the board. He was right. No Victor Durisseau. And nothing under the business name of FutureProof Investments for Veterans. “I’d say Victor was renting a business address, not an office.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’ll see. Come with me.” We took the elevators to the third floor, where we entered the double-glass doors leading to the suite listed on Victor’s business card. Windows spanned the entire back wall. There were at least a half dozen potted palms. Tropical prints hung on the walls. I recognized a Casay and a Tabora. Somebody had good taste.

  In the back, there was a glassed-in conference room complete with seating for a dozen meeting attendees. In my days as a skip tracer, the virtual office concept had been in its infancy. The concept wasn’t much different from getting a table in a restaurant. The table was yours as long as it was your turn, but when you left, it could be given to someone else. Given the transient nature of the business, I’d never expected it to have this much swag. On the other hand, this was Waikīkī, the place where money was no object and the object was always to make money.

  The receptionist, a petite brunette with captivating brown eyes, a perfect smile, and the girlie name of Lexie very patiently explained how, yes, Mr. Durisseau did have office space here, and yes, he had been in and out until a couple of days ago, but no, she couldn’t discuss this further without Mr. Durisseau’s consent.

  “That’s going to be somewhat problematic,” said Chance. He’d taken the lead as soon as he’d seen those almond-shaped eyes and sunburned cheeks. When Lexie asked what he meant, Chance said flatly. “He’s dead. Someone murdered him and we’re investigating.”

  Lexie shifted her gaze from Chance to me, then back again. “I know. How terrible. It wasn’t that client of Victor’s who was in here making the big stink, was it?”

  Oh, good God. There was another dissatisfied customer? That could be the break we needed. “When was this?”

  “A couple of days ago.” Lexie frowned. “I guess it’s okay to tell you. I mean, you are investigating the case. He was so irate. And very hard of hearing. He yelled a lot. When he found out this was just Victor’s virtual office, he made really loud threats. I felt so bad for him.”

  Inwardly, I groaned. So much for getting Meyer off the hook. He’d not only parked illegally, but he’d also left a personal calling card—hey, it’s me, the hard-of-hearing guy.

  Chance perched on the edge of Lexie’s desk. He leaned toward her; she responded, planting her elbows on the surface while resting her chin on her hands. Chance lowered his voice. “Have the police been in to talk to you?”

  Lexie nodded enthusiastically. “They came in on my day off.” She touched Chance’s wrist. “I’ve never had to file a statement before.”

  For the moment, it appeared the young couple might be headed for the altar—or a one-night stand at the very least. I took the opportunity to scope out the amenities. All glass walls throughout. With the exception of Lexie and a man in the first office, the place was empty. Time to go on my own information treasure hunt.

  I approached the man, who had short, cropped reddish hair, a mousy mustache, and wore wire-rimmed glasses. He set the papers he’d been reading on the desktop, removed his specs, and rubbed his eyes.

  “Uh, hi,” he said. “Are you lost?”

  “Nice place to work, yah?”

  “You must have lived here a while.”

  I shrugged. “About seven years. Why?”

  “That ‘yah’ thing. All the locals say it.” He smiled. “Kinda cute when the chicks do it, though.”

  “It fits with the aloha spirit, yah? See, I don’t even think about it now. Anyway, you like working here?”

  He nodded. “They’re very accommodating. Lexie’s a gem. Handles the phones, email, too. She even jumps into the company’s online chat sessions for customer support. I don’t know how she does it all. She’s a dynamo.” He held out a hand. “Monty. Monty Bartell. What business are you in?”

  “Property management. I’ve never seen a virtual office this nice before.”

  He grinned from ear-to-ear. “This is the best investment I’ve got going. I get a swanky address for my business cards and mail. It even includes a meeting place that impresses the shit out of customers. I decided to pay the few extra bucks for the phone and chat support. My customers think my goddamn business is ten times bigger than it is.”

  “You don’t have to sell me,” I said. “I actually heard about it from another guy who works here. He does investments. His name is Victor.”

  Monty nodded. “Yeah, yeah, Victor. Haven’t seen him in a few days—I been out of town. He does a lot of work with veterans.”

  “He’s smooth, yah?”

  “Smooth?” Monty echoed. He had a hungry look in his eyes as he gazed past me.

  I snuck a peek and realized he was focused on Lexie. “Pretty hot. Another perk?”

  A low growl came from Monty’s throat. “If only.” He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “Victor’s unbelievable. There’s a guy who knows how to work the ladies.” He lowered his voice another notch. “Calls himself the Cougar King. Wish I knew his secret, man. He had some redhead who came around here a couple of times. Looked l
ike she was high society for sure.” He shrugged and spoke in a normal tone again. “She hasn’t been around lately. No surprise there.”

  I lowered my voice and cocked my head toward the front desk. “Those two ought to just get a room.”

  “First guy I’ve seen her get all worked up over.”

  “I’ll bet the redhead’s pretty hot.”

  “Who?” Monty’s eyes widened and he grinned. “Oh, Victor’s...girlfriend. I’m never quite sure what to call them with him. Yeah, she was. Cody something-or-other. Never got a last name.”

  From the look on his face, Monty the Squealer was enjoying this little gossip session immensely. Apparently, he hadn’t heard of Victor’s demise. I wasn’t about to be the one to break the news. I winked. “So Victor ought to be giving lessons on how to get laid, huh? Lucky SOB.”

  The Squealer leaned back in his chair. He shook his head and laughed. “Two weeks ago he’d just gotten the redhead out of here when he was telling me he had a weekend planned with some blonde. The guy deserves his title. He can wrap those middle-aged women around his little finger like nobody I’ve ever seen.”

  “I’ll bet he didn’t give the blonde’s name either, did he?”

  “Victor’s real tight with the names of his conquests,” Monty said as he shook his head. “Says it’s bad karma to kiss and tell.”

  “A regular officer and a gentleman. You said the redhead stopped coming around a couple of weeks ago, yah?”

  Uh oh, his eyes had narrowed. He must have realized his bragging had violated Victor’s code of silence—not that Victor would really care much these days. Monty sat up straight and tapped the stack of papers he’d been reading on its end. “How come all the questions about Victor?”

  I winked. “I like to keep my options open.”

  Even Monty could probably tell that was a lie. “Time to get back to work.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I turned away, caught Chance’s gaze, and tilted my head toward the door. He smiled and finger-waved at Lexie as they said their goodbyes.

  At the elevator, he said, “So you had a little time to schmooze, huh?”

  “It’s called McKenna’s Third Skip Tracing Secret.”

  Chance’s curiosity was as obvious as the blue in his eyes. “Well?”

  “Call it the nosy neighbor principle. People love to talk about other people. That was a candy store and I was shopping.” The doors slid open and Chance followed me in like a well-trained puppy.

  As the doors closed, he asked, “So did you get anything good?”

  “Depends. Sounds like Victor’s target market for business involved veterans. He was also quite the ladies’ man. He had multiple, probably simultaneous, girlfriends. How about you? Did you get a date with Lexie?”

  He winked and pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. “She’s a nice girl.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find out exactly how nice when you call her.”

  Chance shrugged. “I don’t know if I’m interested in a girlfriend right now.”

  “What the hell were you doing then?”

  “McKenna’s Third Secret,” he said, a broad smile on his face. “She told me her boss had declined to renew Victor’s service agreement.”

  “Did she say why?”

  The elevator landed on the first floor and the doors opened with a whoosh. Or maybe that was the wind going out of Chance’s sails. He shook his head, then shrugged. “She said it wasn’t pertinent to the investigation.”

  How could he be so lackadaisical about this? He’d had the office receptionist, the one who knew all and could tell all. What kind of investigator spent his time flirting when he could ask questions. “That’s all you got then?”

  “Not exactly.” He unfolded the paper in his hands and held it out for me to see. “That’s Victor’s home address. Care to check it out?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Ferrari purred through the streets of Honolulu, taking us from swank to terrifying in fifteen minutes. Okay, terrifying might be exaggerating, but Kalihi is one of those areas that tourists, especially haoles, are warned to avoid. Call it one part Chinatown, one part poverty, and one part bad break, but Kalihi suffered from the pains of being left out of the revenue stream generated by our massive tourist trade.

  The neighborhood consisted mostly of commercial buildings with second-floor residential living spaces. Many of the buildings hadn’t worn their age well. A few of the lucky ones had been rehabbed in some way. The apartments where Victor lived didn’t fit the “lucky” category. Honolulu ghetto might be a more accurate description.

  Dirty white and faded blue paint accented the weathered-gray walls of the restaurant. About every third letter was out on the neon sign in the window. This was not a Chinese restaurant I wanted to check out—it probably had enough rats to organize their own union.

  Chance winced as he parked the car in a lot fronting the apartments and to one side of the restaurant. The Ferrari was the only car in the lot. “Oh, man, I hope she’ll be safe around here.”

  “She?” I glimpsed Chance stroking the driver’s mirror. “Oh, she. The car.”

  “She’s a Ferrari, McKenna. A hot-blooded dream machine.”

  “She’ll be fine,” I assured him with plenty of bravado and not an ounce of certainty. “Let’s make this quick so your baby doesn’t get lonely.” I left off the other option, which was that “she” might find herself being stripped in a chop shop.

  Chance glanced around the neighborhood as he walked to the trunk and opened the lid. He pulled out two pairs of latex gloves and a small leather case.

  “What’s in the...” I closed my eyes. What a stupid question I’d almost asked. “You have a set of lock picks?”

  He handed me a pair of gloves and the case. The leather was smooth and supple, the kind used for fine purses or wallets. I opened the case. The most expensive set of picks on the planet stared back at me. “How much did these cost?” The kid had a Ferrari—why wouldn’t he buy other fun and expensive toys, too?

  “More than my rent.” He stared at me as though he was expecting to be reprimanded.

  I handed the case back and nodded at the building. “Let’s go.”

  Victor had lived in Apartment 3, which wasn’t hard to find in an old building with only three units above a restaurant. Up close, the faded blue accent paint was peeling—badly. The doors to the apartments looked like someone had covered their booboos with bandaids and then ripped them off.

  I held my breath as we passed an old Asian woman, but she ignored us. Over my shoulder, I whispered to Chance, “I was hoping she wasn’t the landlord.”

  He shook his head. “Sad when people get that old.”

  I glared at him. “Take it from me, kid, at some point you’ll change your mind on that. You gonna open the door or are we going to wait for a witness?”

  The lock picks came out, the gloves went on, and the PI-in-training went into action. A minute later, he muttered, “It looked so much easier on the video.”

  “You’re kidding, right? They showed you a breaking-and-entering video? That’s how you learned to use the lock picks?”

  He glared up at me. “B&E, McKenna. In the business we call it B&E.”

  “Right, B&E. My bad.” Whoever ran the Phillip Marlowe Online Detective Agency must have celebrated the day he landed Chance as a “student.” How much had they taken him for already? “Let me guess, you ordered the lock picks off their website.”

  “Duh. For sure. It’s an online course. It’s not like they can hold out a lock and show you. So, Mr. Marlowe encourages us to order direct.”

  Right. Sure. How stupid of me. Order direct and get the best equipment. I examined the door standing between us and Victor’s stuff. No deadbolt. I pulled out my wallet and a credit card. Should I make the kid pay for this lesson? How much? A hundred? Screw it. I edged between him and the door. “Move over.”

  Chance’s eyes narrowed. “You’re going to charge your way in?” He snickered, o
bviously pleased with his joke.

  The joke was going to be on one of us. Would Kimu help me out? “He’s a ghost, he can’t help,” I hissed under my breath.

  “What was that?” Chance smiled at me.

  He obviously expected my little demonstration to blow up in my face. “I said, this trick is the most…you know, like most favorite…most effective…never mind.”

  I slipped the credit card between the door and the jamb while hanging onto the knob. The card went straight in and the door eased open when I gave it a gentle push. I smiled at Chance. “Presto.”

  My young apprentice gawked at the opening. “I’ve got to remember that.”

  “And practice with the picks at home. I’ll give you the locksmith’s number in case you need it. You can always put him on speed dial.” When Chance’s eyes widened, I snickered. “Just kidding, you won’t break the locks—at least, not that way. Now, close the door before the manager walks by.”

  Victor’s room was a massive disappointment. Stripped. Stale. Squalid. No sheets on the bed. The drawers in the one small dresser had been emptied. The place had been cleaned out—and I use that term loosely—by the police or the landlord. Was the room already back on the market? The big question was, who had Victor’s stuff?

  Whoever rented this place would have to be immune to their five senses—or desperate beyond measure.

  Chance inspected the bathroom countertops, his face wrinkled in disgust. “There’s so much mold—I think it’s ripening. This place could take the cover of Filthy Living Magazine.”

  “Maybe the landlord subscribes. I used to chase skips in places like this. They liked it because they could leave and nobody, not even the landlord, would know. Payment was always in cash. Walk out the door, poof, you’re gone. My respect for Victor’s instincts is rising. He’s the kind who could ruin your batting average.”

  Chance push the moldy shower curtain to one side, but I stopped him with a hand on his arm. “What?”

  “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you. No telling what’s growing there. And, make sure yours doesn’t get like that.” I winked at him.