Shortly after Vivian and I returned to the Loco Moco, customers started to flock in, and I was glad to be so busy for a change. It gave me less time to think. The rest of the day flew by, and there were no opportunities for any further breaks or to even check my phone for messages until after four o'clock. I went into the kitchen for a glass of water when my phone vibrated in my pants pocket. I withdrew it eagerly, positive it must be a text from Keanu. No such luck.
Rehearsal tonight at 7 pm. Just actors and assistant director. See you then.
Jeff. My heart sank with disappointment. I had really wanted to make dinner for Keanu and have a quiet evening alone with him. I was tempted to send a message back and say I wasn't feeling well. Jeff always pulled this last-minute stuff, and it was growing tiresome. Yes, the show was important, but all of the actors had jobs and lives. What if I'd had to work this evening? Plus, I didn't even have a way to get there.
Keanu hadn't been positive what time his meeting would let out. If I walked to the theater, it would take me close to an hour, and I hated to spend money on a cab. Tad was busy, and Vivian had already left to go shopping with a friend. Poncho would be here until closing and planned to prepare some extra desserts.
I texted Jeff back. I don't have a way to get there. Sorry.
His reply came back almost immediately. Just because you are going to Hollywood, do not think you can cop an attitude with me. I'll pick you up. Be ready at six thirty. Sharp.
Jeff had given me rides home a few times before, so he knew where I lived. I fumed at his message in silence. What attitude? Did he really think I was going to become all pretentious and pompous now? If so, the man didn't know me at all. He'd also been the one who'd encouraged me to go to Hollywood. The urge to send back a nasty response was tempting, but I counted to ten first and then merely typed, Okay. Thank you.
Before I went back into the café, I typed out a message to Keanu. Jeff just texted. We have another freakin' rehearsal tonight. So mad! I wanted to spend the evening with you. Can you pick me up from the theater about ten, and then we'll go back to my place? Love you.
It wasn't until I was about to leave the café at six o'clock when I realized that Keanu had never texted me back. This meant the meeting was most likely going longer than anticipated. He probably hadn't even looked at his phone yet. Well, he'd see the text before he left for my apartment.
I called out a goodbye to Sybil and Poncho and departed through the back door of the kitchen. I glanced down at my watch then did a mental head slap and turned in the direction of the jewelry shop. Did I even have time to get the battery installed? I'd feed Benny when I got home and then grab a piece of fruit to munch on the way to the theater. Keeping Jeff waiting was not an option since he didn't know the meaning of patience these days.
I hurried down the boardwalk in the direction of the stores and didn't even glance in the direction of the Happy Hula Dress Shop. This was no time for distractions. As I rushed into Liko's Jewelry Store, I noticed the sign said that they were open until seven. Luck must have been on my side because the only person inside was an elderly Polynesian man behind the counter.
The man looked up as I rushed in. He must have been about eighty, his entire body shrunken from age. He had a tuft of white hair on the top of his head, and his leathery face and neck were lined with massive wrinkles that deepened further as he smiled at me.
"Can I help you, miss?" he asked.
I held out my watch. "This needs a new battery, please." If I was thrifty, I'd have taken it back to the jewelry store where I'd gotten the watch fixed last time, when I'd gone shopping with Keanu on the island of Oahu. But there was no time for that now. "Are you the owner?"
He nodded proudly and patted his chest. "Liko is my name, and jewelry is my game." He squinted down at the watch and then placed it on the glass-topped counter. "I need to get a different tool. Be right back." He shuffled into the back room, his gait reminding me of Tim Conway from the comical old Carol Burnett reruns I used to love to watch as a child. What a cute old man.
I glanced at the tray of diamond rings inside the polished case and drew a deep breath. It was silly to even think about this now. We'd only been dating for a few months and neither one of us was ready for marriage. Still, a part of me longed for that security someday, along with the house and a little white picket fence. Maybe even—
A sudden crash from the next room jolted me out of my thoughts. Alarmed, I ran behind the counter and into the adjoining back area. Liko was flat on his back, attempting to raise himself into a sitting position.
"Are you all right?" I helped the man to his feet.
Liko looked slightly embarrassed as he nodded. "The eyesight isn't what it used to be, I'm afraid." He pointed at the step stool lying on its side. "I didn't even see the stool until I went flying over it." He smiled wryly and adjusted his glasses on his face.
I laughed, relieved that he was okay, and started to follow him out of the room. I gazed up idly at the steel shelving propped against the wall. There were several small bottles of jewelry cleaner and some unidentifiable boxes. A large white container stood out from the rest. The word Cyanide was printed on it in large black letters.
I continued to stare at the container, fascinated.
"Miss?" Liko was standing in the doorway, watching me with a puzzled expression.
"Sorry." Distracted, I walked back into the storefront and tried to process what I had just seen. Liko opened the watch while I struggled to pose my question in a nonchalant manner. "I was wondering why a jeweler would need cyanide."
Ugh. Way to be subtle, Care.
He stared up at me, a frown further deepening the lines in his forehead. "I keep forgetting to get rid of that. EPA regulations are tough these days. We aren't allowed to use it anymore."
I thought I understood. "Because cyanide is poison?"
Liko nodded as he closed my watch back up. "I've always used it for bombing procedures on gold jewelry. If used correctly with hydrogen peroxide, it produces a very shiny finish to the pieces. Back when I was in my prime, I bought a lot of secondhand jewelry in all sorts of condition. Of course, they had to be cleaned before I could attempt to sell them, and that was often the best way to go about it."
"Isn't such a procedure dangerous?"
He nodded. "Of course. You have to take precautions. With my eyesight the way it is now, I haven't done it in quite a while. Like I said, we technically aren't supposed to use the stuff anymore and could be fined. I heard about one fellow who gave himself a fatal heart attack a few years ago. He forgot to turn off an overhead fan during the cleaning process and ended up inhaling the stuff."
I shuddered inwardly. "That's awful."
Liko handed the watch over the counter to me. "Here you are, miss. That will be fifteen dollars."
I handed him a twenty. His story had been an interesting one but nothing to do with Randolph's fatal encounter. Still, nagging thoughts continued to peck away at my brain. During my snooping, I had come across a previous reference to a jewelry store somewhere, and tried to remember the source.
Recognition suddenly dawned like a bright light at the end of a tunnel. With horror, I brought a hand to my mouth, and a cold shard of fear settled into the center of my spine as I grabbed the counter in front for support. I couldn't be positive of course, but there was a good chance that Liko had just given me my answer.
"Miss?" Liko waved my change and a receipt at me. "You don't look very well. Is everything okay?"
I forced my head to bob up and down like a puppet's. "Fine," I managed to cough out. "Thanks for your help."
As soon as I was on the path back to town, I glanced down at my watch. Six twenty. Jeff had undoubtedly left to pick me up already and would be thoroughly pissed, but I didn't care. There was no way I could go to rehearsal now. I drew out my phone and texted him.
I can't make it tonight. Sick. So sorry for the inconvenience.
I still hadn't heard from Keanu but knew that he'd message me when he saw my earlier text, so I didn't bother to send another. I scrolled through my contacts for Detective Ray's number. He'd probably think I was crazy—the girl at the Loco Moco really has gone loco—but I had to let him know about my theory. I could almost picture the good detective frowning at the phone in distaste, his face as red as the Hawaiian shirt he wore. It didn't matter anymore. I was willing to take that chance.
The call went directly to his voicemail, and I cursed under my breath. How come there was never a cop around when you needed one? Never mind. I'd go back to my apartment and wait for Keanu, tell him my theory, and then maybe we'd drive over to the station together in search of Ray.
My message to Jeff had not exactly been a lie. The conclusion I had drawn was enough to make me sick. Still, I prayed that I was wrong. The one thing I hadn't figured out for certain yet was the motive for Randolph's death, but suspected it was money related. I continued to walk on at a furious and brisk pace and barely noticed the sky overhead. It was a glorious hue of red, yellow and orange as the sun began its rapid descent. I usually enjoyed the scent of gardenias coming from a nearby garden but all I could smell now was fear—my own, specifically.
I ran up the steps of the front porch and inserted my key into the lock. I slammed and locked the door behind me then blew out a long breath. I was safe for now. I'd go text Keanu again—no, I'd call him. The meeting had to be winding down, and I really needed to hear his voice. Then I'd call the police station. Maybe someone would be willing to provide me with Ray's home phone number. I couldn't just sit here and wait.
"Ben?" I called. He always came out to greet me. Maybe he was asleep on my bed. I sat down on the couch and noticed that one of the crates with Randolph's items was sitting on top of my coffee table, next to the paper with Wendy's phone number that I had forgotten to take with me. Strange. I was certain that I'd placed both crates underneath the table before leaving this morning. As I pulled out my phone, I heard a muffled meow from the bedroom.
"Come here, boy." I absently checked for new messages and waited for Benny to make an appearance. Then I realized that I was not alone in the room.
"Hi, Carrie," a male voice spoke softly.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose at attention, and cold fear washed over me. Swallowing hard, I forced myself to look up. There was a man standing in the doorway of my bedroom, smiling at me. He held Benny in one hand and a sharp kitchen knife in the other.
My theory had been correct, but that didn't exactly make me want to jump for joy. Paralyzed, I continued to sit there in numbed silence.
"I've been waiting for you," he said reproachfully. "It was very rude of you to be so late. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Still in shock, I stared into his angry eyes—eyes that had never given me a reason to be afraid—until now.
"Well?" he asked.
My voice came out in a feeble whisper. "I'm sorry, Jeff."