Dead Before A Rival Page 7

  “So the tank could have come on just about anytime and been substituted about any time.”

  “Right,” Silva said with the beginnings of a smile. “If Bart had any enemies ashore, they’re as likely to be it as any he had on board.”

  “Can you name some?”

  “Enemies, you mean?”

  Hank nodded.

  “It will be kind of hard to name some who weren’t. He was a royal pain in the ass. I can’t quite see any of them getting mad enough to kill him, though.”

  Corky, silent during the interrogation, had been writing in her notebook. She now turned to a new page, and asked her first question.

  “Could you give us a rundown, Captain, maybe starting with the most likely ones first.”

  Silva gave a short laugh. “I guess it’s your job to suspect everyone. Take what I say with a grain of salt. It’s mostly guesswork.”

  Corky rewarded him with a broad smile. Silva wished himself a couple of decades younger.

  “An obvious one, who you’ve probably had over the coals already, is Rouse. This may not be worth much, but I don’t think he’s the killing kind. On the other hand, he sure had the most to gain from eliminating Bart. I’d put Mrs. Forbes next. Not that I want to get her in trouble. She pays my salary, and a generous one at that, bless her heart.”

  “Why do you put her near the top?”

  Silva shrugged. “Jealousy. She plays around, but she’s not about to let her boys do the same. The air got pretty cold around here when Bart started giving all his time and energy to Miss Filipino Hawaii. Speaking of jealousy, you may want to ask Dolph a few questions. He didn’t get along with Bart. Not at all. I have the feeling Fe Cabanting was at the bottom of the problem, at least during the day of the cruise. I imagine Miss Filipino leaves a lot of broken heads in her wake, the result of all the broken hearts.”

  “Anyone else?” Corky prompted.

  “This will be a surprise. Old Mrs. Dalquist hated Bart’s guts, and I mean really hated them. I never figured out why, and didn’t really much try to. Bart was about the only thing that would take her mind off of her world tour and the dippy Colonel she keeps talking about. Maybe she figured Bart was dredging too far into the Forbes coffers. But, hell! From what I can see, those coffers are plenty deep and plenty full.

  “The Dalquists aren’t exactly hurting, either. I heard old man Dalquist made a mint in machine tools. Coming back to Mrs. Dalquist, I still think there was some special reason why she wasn’t one of Bart’s fondest admirers. Actually, the only one in the family who didn’t seem to have it in for Bart was Marshal. If he had any dislike for him, he didn’t show it.” The captain paused, then added. “The only trouble is Marshal never stays sober long enough to show anything.’

  “Fe?”

  “That, I can’t believe. If she planned to do anything with Bart, it sure didn’t involve killing. Her boyfriend didn’t seem to mind Bart and her playing up to each other. So if he did it, it was for some reason I don’t know anything about. So far as I can see, Kerwin’s out too. I don’t think he even met Bart before this cruise.”

  Hank interrupted. “We better move on to Kerwin, Corky. Remember, we have to interview David Rouse yet, and we don’t have the car.”

  Corky grinned. “OK, Lieutenant. It would be hell to have to jog back to the station.”

  As they started to leave, Captain Silva said, “Hey, you forgot one suspect.”

  “Who?”

  “Why, me. I won’t miss having Bart around at all, not at all.”

  Chapter 11

  Marshal offered to find Joanna to tell her she had visitors.

  “I wonder if we could see Sam, too?” Kay asked.

  “Sure,” Marshal said, putting down his empty glass and starting unsteadily for the door. “Why don’t you come along? They’re probably both up in Joanna’s sitting room. That’s what she calls it.”

  By prearrangement, Kay had persuaded Laura to do the interview with Joanna, pointing out the head of Forbes Ranch and her own self were like flint and steel. After briefly introducing the two, Kay managed to remove herself along with a willing Sam to another room. Sam insisted on providing a guided tour of the second floor along with a running commentary about the late owner and his attitude toward Cliffhouse.

  “He thought of it as doing everything for him. It wasn’t just a home, it was his office, his library, his warehouse for his hobbies, and a place to park his helicopter. There’s a pad on the roof,” she added, pointing an index finger at the ceiling.

  “I understand he was killed in a helicopter accident. Did that happen around here.”

  “Yes. He’d just taken off for Oahu. He was alone at the time. Nobody knows what happened. The Coast Guard found debris out about five miles from here, but that was all.”

  Crossing the hall, Sam continued. “Mark reserved the whole cliff side of the second floor for himself. Joanna said it made her nervous knowing she was so close to the cliff edge, so it worked out fine. There are four bedrooms on the same side as Joanna’s sitting room. Mark’s study, as he called it, runs the full length of the house on this side.” Sam opened a pair of large doors as she spoke. “Everyone else called it ‘Mark’s studio,’” she added. “We haven’t changed it much since Mark’s death because Francis uses it when he’s home, and he wanted us to leave it this way.”

  Kay could never remember having seen anything in a private home to match the room. It had a high, open-beam ceiling and was well over a hundred feet in length and some forty-to-fifty feet wide. Rather clearly, Mark had disliked cramped quarters. Most owners would have divided the room into several smaller ones to suit each of the purposes the room served, but Mark had left it entirely open. At one end was a library which not only included shelves on three walls, but also had four free-standing cases with books filling both sides of them.

  Later, when she had a chance to glance through the titles, Kay saw a major portion of the works dealt with technical subjects ranging from applied physics to motor vehicle maintenance. Mark was either an omnivorous reader, or wished to give such an impression. Few major topics ever written about were missing entirely. One entire wall at one end of the room was devoted to fiction.

  Next to the library was what would have been called the computer room had it been separately enclosed. Several printers, a copier, two computers, a fax machine and sundry other electronic devices formed several clusters on three large tables. Comfortable swivel chairs were scattered through the section. The final portion of the room was the equivalent of a lounge and conference room. A massive koa table stood at its center, surrounded by chairs of the same material. A restful-looking recliner was located near the window facing out on the Pacific.

  Sam walked over and opened up a window, gesturing to Kay to look out. The precipitous three-hundred-foot drop was startling, even though Kay knew beforehand the house had been built flush with the edge of the cliff. She had a sudden feeling of vertigo, as she looked over the low window ledge straight down onto the ten foot waves crashing against the rocks at the base of the cliff.

  “I never look out there I don’t think of Gibraltar,” Sam said. “The only thing missing are those barbarian apes running all over the enormous rock. Colonel Wexworth had the most interesting story to tell. He told us about a legend that the English would hold Gibraltar only as long as there were apes there, and when they started to die out, Winston Churchill brought some over from Africa to breathe with the ones still on Gibraltar. Something must have worked because . . .”

  Kay interrupted, having learned through bitter experience an uninterrupted Sam could continue for hours. “My firm will probably represent Marshal at his new trial and, if we do, we may have to call on you to be a witness again.”

  The blue eyes came back into focus. “I don’t know what good it will do for me to get up there and lie again for him. The jury saw right through me the first time. They’ll be able to again the next time.”

  Great, thought Kay. Sid ha
tes lying witnesses even more than lying clients. Maybe we’d better throw the whole thing into Qual’s lap. He’ll think it’s all a challenge. Aloud, she asked, “What actually did happen before Marshal left the boat that evening?”

  “The usual. He started drinking before eating breakfast and then skipped breakfast. I gave up years ago nagging him about it.”

  “Any idea how much he had to drink before he left?”

  Sam shrugged. “Maybe a fifth. Maybe more.”

  Good Lord! I can see the expression on Sid’s face when I tell him how many drinks Marshal had under his belt when the cop stopped him.

  Before lapsing into a description of the Barbary Coast and a report on further bits of wisdom from Colonel Wexworth, Sam had made it quite clear that when Marshal left the boat he was drunk, drunk by any standards, perhaps even drunker than usual.

  Giving Sam some ten minutes to work off steam, Kay broached the subject of the fatal cruise. As though on cue, Sam’s blue eyes sharpened and fixed themselves on Kay’s brown ones. “Bart was just asking for it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I heard him arguing with Captain Silva. He said something to Captain Silva about knowing how he took the boat out to pick up packages floating out at sea. If you could have seen the expression on the captain’s face, you wouldn’t have been surprised at what happened to Bart.”

  Kay probed and got no more than a statement Sam had overheard the brief conversation on the Honolulu run, and one of the supposed pickups had occurred the day before the Honolulu trip. That was the day Captain Silva had taken the Jomark out for a trial run in preparation for the following day’s voyage. Sam then went back, not to be shaken loose again, to the Mediterranean part of her world cruise, with Colonel Wexworth explaining the green flush so frequently occurring at sunset.

  Mercifully, and also by prearrangement, Laura came by after interviewing Joanna to rescue Kay, and the two attorneys excused themselves, adjourning to the servants quarters for their interview with Dolph.

  ***

  Hank and Corky found Kerwin scrubbing down the forward portion of the wheelhouse. He grinned on seeing them. “It goes on forever,” he said. “I’ve heard when the workers get through painting the Golden Gate Bridge, they go back to the other end and start right over. That’s the way with this ship.”

  Kerwin’s eyes became serious as they explained what had really happened to Bart. “What a bummer,” he said. “I guess if you’re going to drown, that’s the way to do it. From what you describe about the stuff, he probably didn’t even know he was drowning.”

  Hank decided to go to the heart of the matter immediately. “Any idea who might have switched those bottles?”

  “You mean people who were aboard?”

  Hank nodded.

  “I suppose everyone suspects Mr. Rouse, but he’s a real nice guy. I can’t see him doing something like that.”

  “Did Dolph bring anything with him from Cliffhouse?”

  Kerwin frowned, evidently puzzled at first by the question, then his face cleared. “Hey! I see what you’re getting at. Uh-uh.” He grinned. “We both came away clean except for a couple of small items Dolph needed for lunch, mostly wine. Mrs. Forbes keeps the Jomark furnished like a second home, so we didn’t have to bring anything to amount to anything from Cliffhouse.” He paused, then repeated what he’d said before. “Neither of us.”

  “Anyone else you can think of who might have switched the bottles?”

  Kerwin was showing signs of uneasiness, but was adamant in his answer. “I don’t think Bart was a favorite of any of the men on board, but none of them had any reason to kill him that I know of.”

  “Know anyone on shore who might have had a reason?”

  Kerwin shook his head. “I didn’t even meet Bart until about a month ago, when I first came to work here. Dad says he used to come by the shop, but I don’t remember ever seeing him around. I don’t work inside at Cliffhouse, so I never saw him there, either.”

  “Anyone else around here ever mention him?” Hank waved his hand toward the shore.

  “Nope! So I can’t tell you how he got along with anyone ashore.”

  “How about the women on board?”

  For a brief instant, Kerwin did not get the drift of the question, then the outward signs of his uneasiness doubled. His voice went up an octave, and his certainty fourfold, making him sound that much less truthful. “Absolutely not! Women liked Bart. I guess he was pretty good looking by their standards. None of them had any reason for wanting him killed.”

  It was Corky who took a wild stab. “Not even Joanna Forbes?”

  ***

  “Wow!” Corky said as she and Hank were hurrying back to the station. “Did you expect Kerwin to react so strongly when we brought up Joanna?”

  “Nope. Sure isn’t the typical employer-employee relationship. I can’t figure it out, but I have my suspicions.”

  “There can’t be any hanky panky going on between them. She must be twenty-five years older than he is, maybe more.” She stopped to think over what she had just said. “Of course, Bart wasn’t much older than Kerwin.”

  “No reason why Kerwin couldn’t have been a quick replacement?”

  Corky looked puzzled. “Kerwin’s protective of her, that’s for sure. Of course, he’s obviously grateful for the job. It could be he just doesn’t want to jeopardize it by saying anything indicating she’s guilty.” Corky did not sound convincing or convinced.

  They were still speculating on the reasons for Kerwin’s over-reaction when they drove up in front of David Rouse’s office. The office consisted of the three front rooms in an old house which had long ago been surrounded by Napua’s commercial development. As Rouse explained later to Corky and Hank, he had found this house when he had first begun practice in Napua.

  “I was fresh from dental school and fresh married. My wife and I thought we’d died and gone to heaven when we found this house. Back then it was right in the middle of a fairly nice residential neighborhood. Best of all it was incredibly cheap, and we were a couple of naive haoles. It wasn’t long before we discovered the place was so cheap because it was a wreck. By the time we took care of the roof and the foundation and the plumbing and the wiring and the termites, we could have built a new house on Kula Hill.

  “We were both discouraged after all the expense, but one good thing came out of it. I’d intended to open an office in the new shopping mall. I couldn’t afford to because of all the money we’d had to spend on repairs and, instead, I used the front of our home as an office, back in the days before the building codes prevented small businesses from being established in residential communities. Well, if I had to do it over, I’d set up my practice right here again. For one thing. there’s no commuting. I’ve never been interested in expanding, and I have more than enough practice to keep me busy. I know all of my patients personally and, if I decide to take a day off, a few phone calls change the appointments.”

  When the two officers had arrived, Rouse had just finished with a patient, and his assistant was leaving for lunch. Corky, Hank and Rouse moved into the pleasant surroundings of the inner office which doubled as a kind of living room. Corky took out her note pad.

  “I’ve heard Bart’s death wasn’t entirely accidental,” Rouse said, “so I suppose I’m now a major suspect.

  Hank looked serious. “Our manual says at this stage of the game we’re supposed to say everyone’s a suspect, but I have to admit you’re the only one we see now who may have had a clear-cut motive. So I might as well ask you right off. Did you kill Bart Cain?”

  Rouse relaxed back into his chair. “No, I didn’t. I really didn’t consider him much of a threat. In fact, I’m not really sure how anybody could have killed him. From what I saw, it was a case of drowning, pure and simple.”

  “Ever hear of nitrous oxide.”

  Rouse looked puzzled, then sat up quickly. “My God! Someone’s trying to frame me.”

  “So I take it
you have nitrous oxide here on the premises?”

  “Yes. I seldom use it these days, but I do have a tank.”

  “I’d like to see it before we leave, but I have one or two other questions first. Do you know anything about scuba diving?”

  Rouse nodded reluctantly. “I started taking lessons a few weeks ago.”

  “Why didn’t you dive at Cook Reef? That’s an ideal spot.”

  “I…I really didn’t feel qualified yet. Seventy-five feet is still deeper than I’d care to go. I certainly wasn’t going to dive with Bart. I disliked him, and I made no bones about it.”

  Chapter 12

  The kitchen of the Forbes home was a further clue to the personality of the home builder and owner. Mark Forbes was not an entertainer, and had made no plans to be one. The kitchen was modern enough, but it could have been part of any moderately expensive home built within the previous decade.

  While large numbers of workers were employed in the gardening and cleaning in and around Cliffhouse, Joanna made little use of even her part-time cook. Marshal had explained, “Joanna has a catering service come in if we have guests. That’s the same company providing the food for the day trip on the Jomark. Besides, we eat out a good share of the time. When we don’t, Sam usually whips up some special dishes of her own with the help of Dolph and the cook.”

  If what Marshal ate on the boat cruise is typical, Kay decided, he wouldn’t even need a kitchen.

  Dolph had just finished cleaning vegetables for the cook and was wiping his hands on a towel, when Kay and Laura appeared at the kitchen door. Kay had carefully formulated her questions ahead of time. Once she was reasonably certain Dolph could add little to what they already knew about Marshal’s drinking on the day of his arrest, she decided it was time to ferret out information for Hank. Having talked to Sid about the brief conversation between Fe and Dolph which he had overheard, Kay planned on working her way toward the topic.