Frederick Zackel - Dead Wrong About the Guy

The sign on the building read "First Bank of Maui." The sign on the door in the back of the bank said "Ollie Salazar Bank President."

I sat across the desk from Ollie Salazar. I recognized the short, slight banker as one of yesterday’s poker players from the Paradise Bowl.

"God, but you boys work fast," Ollie said. "Only yesterday I was reading about this National Park idea."

I cautioned him. "That's just one Senator with a suggestion. It isn't law yet, and it may never be."

"Yes, but still--" Ollie tried another tack. "If the National Park Service can send you here--"

"This is not an official visit. In fact, if you check with the regional office, they will deny anyone is here. Officially, I'm a tourist. I want to see how big the coastline is, how many people live around here, what they're like--"

"That's a good cover story," Ollie said.

"Mister Salazar, how do you like the idea of a East Maui National Park?"

Ollie was dubious. "People here are concerned about tourists, congestion, too much traffic--"

"Of course," I said.

"What does Uncle Sam do when he makes a National Park?

"The absolute minimum," I admitted. "We put in some parking lots. Public outhouses, too. Wherever there's a parking lot. By the cliffs, too, so the tradewinds can keep them fresh.

Ollie was still dubious. "Oh."

"The idea is to protect the land for the ages."

The banker blinked. "Well, there would be some development, wouldn't there?"

"At the same time, we want to help existing businesses within the local community.

Ollie brightened. "Really!"

I admitted it: "Some landowners could become multi-millionaires overnight."

Ollie grinned. Now Uncle Sam was talking his language. "How can I help you, Mister Bishop?"

"How well do you know Corky Collins?"

Ollie was completely confused. "Corky? Him? He's an old friend. We play poker together."

I was deliberately vague. "He seems representative of the community."

"Oh, he is, he is," Ollie said. "His family is very prominent in Maui history. Still--"

"And influential?

Ollie shook his head angrily. "You're barking up the wrong tree. He won't sell his land. That land's been in the Collins' family since Hawaii had kings and queens."

"Sometimes some public protesters are privately holding out for a better price," I suggested.

Ollie thought of something else. "His wife, too. Saundra loves that land as much as he does. She'll take a shotgun to you if she finds out you're with the federal government."

I pretended his wife was a new wrinkle. "How long have they been married?"

"Almost twenty-five years. They got two boys. Fine boys. Hell, both grown men actually."

"How does Corky get along with his wife? Any chance they'll be separated or get divorced?"

"None that I can see. If they quarrel, who knows? Not in public, anyway. Of course that ranch of his is a half-mile back from the highway."

"Your bank handles estate planning, right? Are they rich?"

Ollie tried computing: "Let's see. That ranch of his. Three thousand acres of land. His processing plant. Some commercial property in town, too. Refrigerated warehouses and some loading docks. His total estate if he croaked this minute?" He tried finding a final sum. "Oh, maybe two million."

"Does he throw his money around?"

Ollie snickered. "Corky's so cheap, he'd fuck his wife, then go to the whorehouse, just so he's got his ten bucks worth."

"Who handles his insurance?"

Ollie began flipping through his Rolodex. "Stu Phillips. I've got his number around here somewhere."

I stood. "Just his address. I might not get there right away. You've been most helpful, Mister Salazar--"

Ollie stood and shook my hand. "Call me Ollie!"

I left then. But even before I reached my Mustang, I knew Ollie Salazar was on the phone, his eyes wide, his mouth flapping away. Some people you can trust just like that.

A sign out on Front Street said: "Stu Phillips Insurance."

I took the staircase that led upstairs to the second floor. Within minutes, I sat across from and was talking to Stu Phillips, who was only too happy to help out a government man.

I said, "How about insurance, Mister Phillips? Does he have adequate coverage?"

"I don't think so. Corky's an optimist who believes nothing bad will ever happen to him."

"How about his wife?"

"Saundra? Oh, she's got adequate coverage. I got him to do that much at least. He'd be lost without her. She's some special lady."

Later Corky and I were offshore and onboard Corky's forty footer. The stern read: "SAUNDRA II." I kept myself busy surveying the waters around us.

Corky was pissed. "How come you've been checking into my background?"

"There's a guy over there with binoculars."

Corky brushed aside that as no threat. "He's just a fisherman. He's watching the seabirds feeding. That's where the big fish congregate to eat the little fish."

"Let me explain some things to you, pal. You want your wife whacked. Well, before we agree, I have to see how you fit into the deal. I have to look you over, understand you. We don't do a thing unless I know every why and wherefore along the way."

"What doesn't make sense--"

I interrupted him. "And we've decided. I'll do it."

Corky was taken aback. "Are you gonna guarantee my alibi?"

"That's the only way I work."

"When will she die?"

I had a cold smile. "It'll surprise even you."

Corky was jubilant. "Whoa boy! You sure had me going there!" He laughed with glee, and he sounded as raucous as a seagull. His voice made me wince.

"It'll cost you, too, pal. Fifty grand."

Corky made a razzberry. "Ten's all I got."

"You'll get the rest. And I get it all ahead of time."

"I'm not paying all of it beforehand."

"Afraid I'll skip on you?"

"Yes. Twenty-five grand."

"Fifty grand up front."

"I got twenty-five grand in cash." Corky hesitated. I could see his mind counting the coins in his pocket. "I'll go along with fifty grand if you get half before and the other half when everything stays buried." He added a caveat. "If she stays buried, I mean, if we hear nothing other than her death was accidental, or done by persons unknown, then I can give you the balance as soon as probate's over. That way you don't set me up. Or turn me in, either."

"How do I know you'll pay me?"

"You'll kill me if I don't."

"You got that right. But you pay the first half just before I go do it."

"Agreed. And the second twenty-five grand after probate. Not before." Corky hesitated. "What happens afterwards? How are you planning to get away?"

"That's my concern." I tightened up. "Then it's agreed?"

"It's a deal."

Corky and I shook hands on murder.

"How do you want her killed? Do you want her knifed? Poisoned? Shot? A pistol or a shotgun? Do you want her strangled, or maybe drowned in the ocean?"

Corky was tired. "I've had plenty of time and I've thought of a million ways to do it." He rubbed his forehead. "I just want her killed."

I couldn't resist teasing him. "I can put a bomb on this boat. A quarter pound of dynamite's about as big as a stick of butter. Goes by the gas tank. That would be enough. Or I can use more and what's left of the boat can fit in the trunk of your car."

"Not my boat, please. Besides, I don't want anybody killed but my wife."

"How do you want it to look? Accidental? Suicide? Do you want this to look like a robbery? Murder by persons unknown? Is there anybody you want to pin it on? Make it look like they did it?"

"I just want her dead. I don't want anybody getting framed for something they didn't do. I couldn't face myself in the mirror if somebody innocent gets busted for her death."

"Nobody's innocent any more."