CHAPTER 40

She opens the door with a lit cigarette in hand and strikes a pose fit for a Bond poster.

“Aloha,” she says.

I reach for her, grab her gently by the arm, take her inside, and shut the door behind us.

“I know where the knife is,” I tell her quietly, even though I know no one else is in the house.

The color drains from her face. In the twilight I stare out at Chinaman’s Hat and the surrounding bay until she’s ready to speak again.

“Where?” she finally asks.

“In the lagoon.”

“So what happens now?”

“That all depends on what you tell me tonight.” I fold my arms, take a tentative step toward her. “It’s been almost three weeks since the fire, but there may still be prints on the handle and there may still be blood on the blade.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Not if you were the only person to touch it.”

She considers this. “What if that’s true? What if the person who killed Trevor wore gloves or something?”

“What makes you think that?”

“The water main,” she says. “You told me they dusted it for prints and found nothing.”

“That’s going to be a hard sell, gloves in the middle of July here in Hawaii. That would mean this was planned, that it wasn’t a crime of passion. That eliminates a lot of possible suspects we could otherwise point to.”

She holds the cigarette to her lips and inhales, blows out three perfect rings of smoke. “Like who?”

“Mia, for one. Tara. Your parents. Lauren and her fiancé.” I wait two beats, then add, “Isaac.”

“Isaac had nothing to do with this,” she insists.

“Well then, let me leave it at this: gloves eliminate everyone with any reasonable motive to kill Trevor, besides yourself.”

“What if it was someone else? An outsider?”

“Everything that was used was yours, Erin. Your key card, your knife, your lighter.”

“My handbag was stolen. It didn’t have to be stolen by someone in the wedding party.”

“There’s no evidence of it being stolen, Erin. And there’s no motive. You said yourself, there was nothing valuable in the room, nothing taken. Why would an outsider steal your handbag and pay Trevor a visit, only to kill him and set the room on fire?”

“I don’t know,” she says, flustered.

“And if this was planned, how did this perpetrator know there was charcoal starter fluid in the room? The entire scenario defies belief.”

She swings around, stalks over to the sliding glass door, and steps out onto the lanai.

I take a deep breath and follow.

“So what are you telling me, Kevin? That I’m fucked? That I stand no chance at trial? That I’m going to spend the rest of my life in prison?” She shakes her head emphatically. “I couldn’t, you know. I mean, I can’t. I’d kill myself first.”

“There’s another option we have to consider.”

She releases the bay with her eyes and trains them on me. “What’s that?”

“Tomorrow is your arraignment on the felony charges. We can change your plea, prepare an insanity defense.”

“I’m not insane.”

“Insane is only a legal term. We can have you evaluated, have you diagnosed with a personality disorder, argue that the personality disorder prevented you from conforming your conduct to the requirements of law. We can argue that killing Trevor was an irresistible impulse, starting the fire a natural consequence of that impulse. In other words, your personality disorder—your mental illness—left you no choice.”

“Then what? If I’m found not guilty by reason of insanity? I’m off to a nuthouse?”

“You’ll be sent to a facility,” I say gently. “You’ll get some help. When it’s adjudged you’re no longer a threat to yourself or others, you’ll be released. In a couple years, a couple months maybe, you’ll be able to put this behind you and go on with your life.”

She sighs deeply, breaks into a cry. “This is what you’re recommending to me? This is your advice?”

I don’t allow myself to hesitate. “Yes. I don’t see any other way out. There’s too much evidence, too much at stake.”

On the lanai she falls into my arms, and I hold her, attempt to soothe her with my body.

Ten minutes later we step back inside her house, through the living room, past the original oils in the hallway.

We end where we end most of our meetings of late. In her bedroom.

We don’t discuss the case the rest of the night.