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“LADD’S FIRST WIFE DIED of cancer.” Pat got up from the couch and went into the kitchen to fix himself a cup of coffee. “But sure, Emma, accuse a grieving widower of murder.”
“I hope they’re not on the road right now,” I said. “Pitch dark, hard rain. Not a good combination.”
Our rural island had few streetlights, and the ones we did have were deliberately kept dim to minimize any light pollution that might interfere with the telescopes.
“I have Jandie’s cell phone number,” I said. “Should I call her?”
“You have her cell number?” Emma whirled around to glare at me. “How come you never called her when she went missing?”
“Sorry, I didn’t think of it. Okay, I’m calling her now.”
I dialed Jandie’s number, but I got an “all circuits are busy” message. Same thing on the second try.
“I should have tried her phone before,” I said. “I think I should call the police. Her husband said he was going to, but I don’t trust him. If they yell at me for being a nuisance, fine. I’d rather that than know I could’ve done something and didn’t.”
“It’s possible you’re overreacting,” Emma said. “But I wouldn’t bet Jandie’s life on it.”
“I agree, you’ve already annoyed the police as much as anyone possibly could,” Pat added helpfully.
“Oh yeah, remember that time they had to mobilize every emergency vehicle on the island to find her?” Emma said. “I thought Detective Da Kine was gonna blow a gasket.”
“That unfortunate situation was not my fault, and you both know it.” I called the non-emergency police line and left a message describing the situation. I honestly didn’t expect to hear back. But to my amazement, not ten minutes later a police cruiser pulled up in front of my house.
I opened my door.
“...Detective Medeiros?”
The detective was broadly built, and tall enough to hit his head on my door frame if he didn’t duck. His thick black hair was tied back in a ponytail, and he had a small goatee. He wore a colorful, presumably custom-tailored aloha shirt (I don’t think they’re available off-the-rack in his size).
But something was different about Detective Medeiros. Had he gotten new tattoos? A haircut?
“Aloha.” He put out a beefy hand. I hesitated. The friendly gesture was way out of character for Detective Ka`imi Medeiros, whose attitude toward me ranged from annoyance to exasperation.
“Detective Brian Medeiros,” the man said. “You called about your tenant, Jandie Brand?”
“Oh! Brian Medeiros. I thought you were—”
“Yeah, I get that a lot. Ka`imi is my cousin. He’s the brains of the family. I’m the handsome one.”
“Ah!”
“May I come in?”
“What? Oh. Yes. Yes, of course! Thank you for coming so quickly. Please.”
I led him into the living room and introduced Pat and Emma, who gawked at him rather rudely, in my opinion. They hadn’t heard our exchange and were clearly shocked to see Detective Medeiros being so cordial.
I, too, wondered what had earned me this VIP treatment, but I wasn’t going to question it. No need to bite the hand of the gift horse that feeds me, as poor Jandie would say.
“I’m so glad you came,” I said. “The thing is, I’m worried about my renters. They’re kind of new here, and they went out just as the bad weather is coming in. I can’t reach them by phone.”
“Lucky for your tenants, the mayor has a personal interest in their well-being,” Medeiros eased down onto the opposite end of the couch from me. I felt my side of the couch lift until my feet dangled above the floor.
“The mayor?” Pat, Emma, and I exclaimed at once.
“Does the mayor know them personally?” I asked.
“Not yet. I think he’d appreciate an introduction, but. The wahine, not the husband.”
“Good choice,” Emma said. “So our mayor’s a Jandista?”
“What is that?” Medeiros asked.
“Someone who’s a fan of Jandie Brand,” Emma said.
Medeiros looked pained.
“In a way, I suppose you could say. But it’s not about her music or whatever.”
“There’s no music involved,” Pat said. “She’s an influencer. Famous for being famous.”
Medeiros heaved a sigh.
“Okay, the thing about it is, Jandie Brand is making Mahina look like a real appealing destination with all her photos and da kine that she puts up. She’s been good for our economy.”
“So it’s about tourist dollars,” Pat said. “Sorry, I mean visitor dollars.”
“More importantly, yen, yuan, and euros,” Medeiros said. “The international visitors spend more. If something happens to Jandie Brand, it’s bad for our restaurants and hotels and da kine. Anyway, that’s probably more than you needed to know.”
“No, thank you for giving us that background,” I said. “It’s very helpful.”
As a naturally inquisitive person, I appreciated the detective’s openness. Detective Brian Medeiros’s cousin, Detective Ka'imi Medeiros, always acted like he’d get his pay docked if he dared to give me any information.
Detective Medeiros went on to ask all of us the expected questions about the missing couple, and some unexpected ones as well. What was my relationship with the tenants, did I get along with them, were they having money problems, had I noticed unusual behavior from the neighbors?
My warm feelings toward the “good” Detective Medeiros (as I now thought of him) cooled a bit when I noticed his questions becoming unnecessarily repetitive, as if he were trying to catch one of us out in a lie. Or perhaps some sin of omission. Like omitting the fact that Emma and I had been snooping in the rental house.
Unfortunately, his method turned out to be effective.
“You entered their house?” Medeiros looked from me to Emma and back, not bothering to conceal his surprise. “Both of you? When they wasn’t there?”
“She went first,” I said.
“Yeah, well she came in afterwards an’ helped.”
“Blaming each other isn’t gonna work,” Pat said. “You’re both getting kicked out of paradise.”
“We didn’t do anything wrong, Detective Medeiros. It’s my house.” Even to myself I sounded whiny and defensive. “According to the lease I can inspect it at any time.”
“Do you go into your tenants’ house regularly?” Medeiros asked.
“Well...no. This was the first time.”
“Why today then?”
“The same reason we called you,” I said. “Because they’re missing, and we’re worried about them. Oh, and they were supposed to meet someone and missed the appointment. Pat, your friend Howdy, I can’t think of his real last name.”
“Howdy Howell,” Pat said. “Yeah, that’s true.”
“I’ll need his contact information from you.” Medeiros turned to Emma. “Did you remove anything from the house?”
She shook her head.
“You?” He turned to me.
“No, I didn’t...oh, hang on.”
I remembered the sticky note I’d found stuck to the inside of the trash can. I dug it out of my bag and held it out to Pat.
“Why are you giving this to me?” Pat asked.
“You have your phone out. Take a picture. Please.”
Pat snapped the picture and handed the paper back to me. I leaned across the couch and handed it to Medeiros. He glanced at it, folded it in half, and stuck it in his shirt pocket.
“You shouldn’t have removed anything from the house,” he said.
“That note was in the trash.”
“Is the house a crime scene?” Emma asked.
“Is it?” I asked.
Medeiros braced his hands on his knees and stood. My side of the couch thunked back down to earth.
“Not that we know of. I’m going to go check it out right now. Will you be here in case I have any more questions?”
We assured him we would.
As soon as he was gone, I heaved a sigh of relief.
“What a day.” I went into the kitchen to check whether the rice in the rice cooker was still good. It was fine, maybe a little hard around the edges. “How many people did I have to interact with? Edward Ladd, Harriet Holmes, Howdy Doo—Howdy Howell, Detective Medeiros 2.0.”
“What about me and Emma?” Pat asked.
“You guys don’t count. It’s strangers and acquaintances that wear me out. You’re the kind of friends I can ask to set the table while I heat up dinner. Oh yeah, anyone else up for a late dinner? I’m famished.”