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LEILANI ZELENKO CLEARED out the front seat of her convertible for me, tossing fast-food wrappers, two folding umbrellas, a hairbrush, a sun-crisped newspaper, and a half-empty bag of candy into the back seat. I surreptitiously brushed the crumbs from the seat and barely managed to get buckled in before Leilani got up to cruising speed, with the top down and greasy junk food wrappers blowing out onto the road. We were headed toward the first house she wanted to show me. It was a little way out of town in a brand-new subdivision.
She shouted something at me over the road noise. I leaned closer and cupped my ear. The combination of the blustering wind and Leilani’s Ukrainian accent made it difficult to understand what she was saying.
“New house is for you only now?” she repeated. “Or you and Donnie sew things up? I have two bedroom, three bedroom, four bedroom. You tell me what is your need.”
“Donnie and I did patch things up,” I shouted back. “The number of bathrooms is the most important. I can’t share a single bathroom. Leilani, can I ask you something? Why did Melanie want the Brewster House?”
“Molly, I tell you before, I cannot talk about this. It is confidentiality.”
“No, I understand. And I appreciate your discretion. But Melanie actually told me about it.”
“Melanie told you?”
I wished Leilani would keep her eyes on the road.
“Sort of. She wrote about how much she wanted the Brewster House. It was in a book she was working on.”
“A book?”
“Yes. A novel.”
“Ah. And did character in novel have helpful real estate agent?”
“Sorry. I don’t think there was a real estate agent in her story.”
“Is okay,” Leilani said. “My ego, is not big.”
I reached into my bag and pulled out the stack of Melanie’s phone records, held together by a single binder clip. The papers rattled ferociously and then the wind snatched away the cover sheet. I watched it fly out of the car, flutter aimlessly, and settle on the side of the road.
“Leilani, maybe we should stop and pick that up—”
“Is no time. Paper will melt in the next rain and go into ground. Is no problem.”
Maybe I should have postponed this house tour until after my meeting with my lawyer. I would never finish my assigned reading at this rate. I dropped the stack of printouts back into my bag.
“So you know about Melanie,” Leilani said. “But is not because of me. I did not break confidentiality.”
“No. You were utterly discreet. Which I, as a client, appreciate. But now I’ve been arrested for Melanie’s murder, I need to find out anything I can about her.”
“I tell you. I have many customers. Most are good people. Some are like you. Have trouble making up mind, very fussy, but nice person, okay to work with.”
“Thanks.”
“But this Melanie, she was bad customer. She thinks she is queen and boss.”
“I know, right? Queen and boss. You described her perfectly. She just moves in and takes over. I have to tell you something, in grad school, I was doing my dissertation on punk rock, right? And I thought, well this looks fun, and how hard could it be? So I had an idea for some of us grad students to put a punk band together, and then Melanie started acting like it was her idea all along, and she made us pick this stupid name, and she couldn’t play an instrument so she ended up as the lead singer—well, I guess none of it matters now. But did she ever tell you why? Why she wanted the Brewster House?”
“Melanie was strange girl. At first I think she wants beautiful house in Mahina. Then she wants only Brewster House.”
“I suppose you could have gotten Melanie and me into a bidding war,” I said. “It was nice of you not to take advantage.”
“No. Is not my way to take advantage. And also, Fontanne Masterman does not want Melanie to have Brewster House. Fontanne says to me many times, over my dead body you sell to that little trumpet.”
“How did Melanie manage to make such a bad impression on Mrs. Masterman?”
“Melanie does not appreciate beauty of Brewster House. Melanie wants Brewster House only because you want Brewster House. She does not want for herself; she wants to take away from you.”
Leilani muttered something I couldn’t understand.
“Sorry, Leilani, what was that?”
“Melanie wants to be feeling of power,” Leilani said. “Is very pushy. Like a man. Pah!”
Leilani wiped her mouth in a gesture of disgust, one manicured hand gripping the steering wheel.
Oh, Melanie. How on earth did you manage to antagonize Fontanne Masterman so badly she didn’t even want your money? Melanie sure had a way of stirring up trouble everywhere she went. Maybe it was her way of convincing herself she mattered, or something.
“I need to send a quick text.” I pulled my phone out and brought up Honey Akiona’s contact information.
Fontanne hated Melanie check the tea again
“So why police think you kill Melanie?” Leilani asked. “She is annoying pest, but you do not go around and kill each annoying pest.”
“Pest. Good idea. Hang on.”
Check tea for pesticide, I texted.
“It’s not going through. No reception this far out of town. You were asking why they’re blaming me for what happened to Melanie? They have this idea we had some kind of rivalry. Detective Medeiros actually used the word catfight. It was almost more insulting than being accused of murder.”
“I think you make good choice, looking at other house,” Leilani said. “Brewster House, I tell you, is bad house. Very bad.”
“Yeah. I think I’m starting to see your point.”