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IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON when I arrived back in Waikiki. First I wanted to get rid of Kamaka's car. I'd seen an advert for a car hire agency located in the parking garage at a hotel on Kalakaua Avenue. I drove there and found a self-parking garage across the street from the hotel on the left side of Uluniu Avenue. I drove to the second level and found a corner space. I used the sarong from my beach bag to do a quick wipe down of the front interior of the car to remove my fingerprints. I expected the garage staff would have the car towed as soon as they realized it didn't belong to a hotel guest.
I got out of the car, careful not to touch anything with my bare hands. I left the key in the ignition after wiping it too. Grabbing the bags off the seat, I flipped the boot release, wiped the door handle after closing the car door, and then went round to the boot. I raised the lid and removed the larger backpack, then shut it and wiped it down with the sarong. Satisfied I hadn't left any prints on the car, I found the stairs and walked down to the street level. After exiting the parking garage, I made my way on Kalakaua Avenue toward the Sheraton. I walked instead of taking a taxi. I didn't want to risk a taxi driver who might remember me and be able to place me in the area where I'd abandoned Kamaka's car. I was happy that it was only a short walk. I was keen to get back to my own hotel so that I could shower and have a rest before dinner. It had been a trying day. I also had to call Douglas Shaw with the news about his daughter before any of that.
I arrived at the Sheraton only to find Shaw's limo parked in the drive. Ken, his driver, was leaning on the front fender smoking a ciggy. I couldn't see his eyes behind the sunnies he was wearing, but I could feel him watching my every step. I made my way to the hotel entrance. Once inside the lobby I removed my own sunnies and looked about for Shaw but didn't see him anywhere in the lobby. I thought he might be waiting in the bar, but decided to go on up to my room and to ring him from there. I decided reporting in by phone was best as I wasn't keen to spend time with Shaw in person.
After getting off the lift, I walked to my room and inserted the key card. When the lock clicked, I opened the door and stepped inside. I'd found Shaw. He was lying on the floor near the bed wearing a white terry cloth Sheraton bathrobe. The open robe revealed that he wasn't wearing anything underneath. Bloody hell! What had Shaw been doing in my room and almost naked? Shaw had a large bloody gash on the side of his head, and there was an unopened bottle of wine on the floor near his feet.
I stooped down and placed my index and middle fingers on the side of Shaw's neck to check for a pulse. There was no pulse. His skin already felt cold and clammy. It seemed Shaw must have been in my room for some time. Getting up, I went back out the door to the lift and back down to the lobby. I wanted to find out from Ken when Shaw had arrived at the hotel. But when I exited the lobby, Ken and the limousine were gone. As I pondered that I heard sirens nearby, that seemed to be getting closer. Was this some sort of setup? I had to get away from the hotel. That was certain. I started walking fast back up Kalakaua in the direction I'd come earlier.
Hearing the screech of rubber tyres on pavement, I looked back over my shoulder. Two HPD cruisers slide to a stop in the hotel drive. I turned my head and kept walking. I ducked into a coffee shop a couple of blocks down the road from the Sheraton. I had to make a plan. Ken had seen me arrive at my hotel long after Shaw had. But I had the uncomfortable feeling that Ken didn't plan on providing me an alibi. The fact that he had left the scene soon after I had arrived suggested that he already knew that Shaw was dead. I surmised he had been waiting for me to arrive back at the hotel so that he could phone the police. The ordinary missing person case I'd expected when Malone sent me to Hawaii was becoming a regular mare's nest. It seemed I had caught myself up right in the middle of something that I didn't know a thing about.
While I hadn't done anything wrong, I'd been with Kamaka when he was killed. Chances were good that I had the gun in the backpack that had been used to kill him. And now, I had another corpse in my hotel room. Making myself available for police questioning didn't seem a good idea at the moment. First, I had to find out what the bloody hell was going on and what I had gotten myself into. I couldn't return to my hotel room again. It also didn't seem wise to take a room at another hotel in Waikiki. If the police started looking for me, I expected that would be the first place they would look. I needed to hire a car and get out of downtown Honolulu until I could sort things out.
I asked one of the baristas behind the counter if there was a car hire agency close by. She told me about the one at the hotel where I'd dumped Kamaka's car. But she also said there was a cheaper one on Kuhio Avenue that rented older cars. Since all I needed was basic transportation, I took my latte and headed out the door towards Kuhio. On the way, I decided that after I'd hired a car, I'd drive up to North Shore to find an out of the way place to stay.
The place on Kuhio turned out to be ideal. It was a mum and pop sort of operation without the connected databases of the national chains. I reckoned it wouldn't be as easy for the Honolulu police to find out that I'd hired a car. While the guy at the counter made out the hire agreement, I accessed the web on my phone. I searched online hospitality services for North Shore vacation rentals. I found an available studio suite in Haleiwa. The advert described it as a gated, beachfront property. It sounded perfect. I contacted the owner through the app hoping I'd hear back before I arrived in Haleiwa. If not, I could spend a night in the car at one of the North Shore beach parks if it came to it.
The agent processed my credit card. He then escorted me out to the lot to do a damage inspection on the blue Nissan Altima I'd hired. The paint was a bit rough, and there were more than a few dents, but it looked to be solid basic transportation. I signed the agreement, and the agent handed me my copy and the keys. I got in and started the engine. There were a few stains on the upholstery. The interior reeked of stale cigarette smoke, but I reckoned I could manage. After entering the Haleiwa address as my destination in the GPS app on my phone, I drove out of the lot bound for North Shore.
