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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

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“I DON’T HAVE ANY SPECIAL knowledge of the criminal justice system.” Atticus shrugged. “Just what I’ve seen on TV.”

“Really? You strike me as someone who doesn’t own a television.”

He grinned, as if I’d caught him in an embarrassing but inconsequential lie.

“I actually don’t own a TV. You’re right. But I watch stuff online.”

“So what convinced you that I was trustworthy? Whatever magic I worked on you, I need to take that over to the prosecutor’s office.”

“I dunno.” His grin vanished. “It’s stupid.”

“No. Me being innocent? Not stupid. A brilliant insight, if you ask me.”

“Just something about you. So what is your story, Amalia?”

“My story?”

“I don’t see a ring or anything.”

“No,” I agreed. “Definitely no ring. And really, call me Molly.”

“But there was someone. Right?”

“What, have you been reading my personal email?”

“No. I mean, I could read everyone’s email if I wanted to. It isn’t worth it. Most people’s email is really boring.”

“So how do you know I was in a relationship? I don’t have a wedding-ring tan line or anything like that.”

“Someone like you wouldn’t be alone for long. That’s all. So if you’re single now, it must be a recent breakup.”

“Flattery noted and appreciated. I was engaged to be married. But we called it off. And he’s moved on. So.”

My phone rang. I ignored it; I didn’t want to be rude.

“Go ahead and take your call. I’ll refill our coffees.”

“Hiya, Sweetie.” It was my father’s voice. “We just wanted to let you know we’re here at the Kakahiakalani Resort, and so far it’s great. We really wish you could be here with us. They upgraded us to an ocean view room.”

“Oh good. Sounds like you’re having fun. I had so much work to do on the conference paper, though. You remembered the sunscreen?”

“Yes. Your mother packed more than enough. And I have my hat. Any news in the romance department?”

“Well, right now, as we speak, I think I’m out on a coffee date. Kind of.”

“So the wedding’s back on?” my father asked. “Should we come back?”

“Not now,” I heard my mother shout. “Stall her!”

I heard a muffled sound, my father covering the receiver with his hand.

“I was just asking if we should—”

“There’s nothing over there, Ed. Just that sad little cluster of jungle huts they call a university.”

“But Sara, we flew all the way over here...”

I watched Atticus refill our coffee cups as my parents bickered. He was taking great care to make sure each cup had the exact same amount of liquid. First he poured a little bit of coffee into one cup, then into the other.

He seemed sweet. Odd, but sweet.

“Take your time,” I finally said into the phone, not sure if my father was still listening. “There’s no wedding. Donnie and I are definitely not getting back together. Oh wait, I have another call coming through. I think I have to get this. It’s my lawy—uh, it’s an important call.”

I switched to Honey Akiona’s incoming call.

“Did Melanie ever tell you she was trying to buy the Brewster House?” Honey Akiona asked.

“No, what? Did you say the Brewster House? She joked around about buying it. I thought she was trying to needle me. I didn’t think she was serious.”

“Have you read her computer files?” Honey asked.

“Most of them.”

“It’s not too hard to figure out who ‘Melody’ is supposed to be. It’s obviously her, Melanie. Right? I’m not missing anything there, am I?”

“No. It’s all as literal and on-the-nose as it seems, I’m afraid.”

“Okay, that’s what I thought. You’re okay with me reading through all this stuff, yeah?”

“No, I appreciate it. I know you’ll keep it confidential.”

“It’s billable,” Honey said.

“Oh. I see what you’re saying. Yeah, don’t do any more. I’ll read through it myself.”

“You see the part where ‘Dolly’ pretends to be interested in a gardening club?”

“Uh, no, I missed that one,” I said.

“I think ‘Dolly’ is supposed to be you. It rhymes with ‘Molly’.”

“Yeah. I figured.”

“Anyway, ‘Dolly’ goes to this Garden Society meeting to get her greedy claws, sorry, ‘greedy claws’ was how Melanie said it, into this very nice old house. But ‘Melody’ sees the house really should belong to someone with a rare and refined soul, whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

“Leilani Zelenko was the one real estate agent who had an in with Fontanne Masterman. So if Melanie was really serious about the Brewster House, wouldn’t she have talked to Leilani about it?”

“Likely,” Honey said. “Can you ask Leilani? You know her. Better than if I do it.”

“Sure.”

“Try contact her as soon as you can.”

I shot a wary glance toward Atticus, but he was still busy with the coffees. In fact, he seemed to be taking a long time on purpose, probably to give me some privacy.

“If Melanie was trying to buy the Brewster House, Honey, how would that help us?”

“Dunno yet. Just keeping my eyes open. So all the time you an’ Melanie spent together, you had no idea Melanie liked old houses?”

“Melanie didn’t like old houses. She thought mine was a dump. I’ll ask Leilani what was going on. Oh, there’s something else I wanted to ask you. What about a cell phone? Melanie’s cell phone?”

“They didn’t recover a cell phone. Are you sure Melanie had one?”

“Yes, she did. She had it with her the day of her death.”

“Do you have the number?”

“No. I don’t—wait, yes I do. Hang on.” I scrolled down my list of outgoing calls until I found one to Melanie’s cell phone. I recognized it because she still had her 415 area code. I read the number to Honey.

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do about getting the call records. Meantime, you talk to Leilani. See what you can find out.”

“And Melanie’s browser search history, if you can get it.”

“Oh yeah, good idea. I’ll see what I can do.”

Atticus returned with our coffees as I hung up.

“Sorry about that, Atticus. I hate it when you’re trying to have a conversation and the other person’s phone keeps ringing.”

My phone rang again. It was Donnie.

I pressed the button to send him to voice mail. Then I shut the ringer off and dropped my phone into my bag.