Carol Clark - Burned

Janet was sitting at her desk, glasses perched on her nose, phone to her ear. A little television was on in the corner of the office. The station was replaying Jimmy’s press conference.

“Can you imagine?” Janet asked.

“No,” Regan answered as she listened to Jimmy threaten the thief. “How could this have happened so fast?”

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Janet said when Jimmy was finished. “I think he’s right. There must be some kind of curse on those leis. They’re certainly creating chaos with our ball.”

“Someone just walked up behind Jimmy and stole the leis?” Regan asked.

“Just like that.”

“And the only lead is that the thief may have been wearing or carrying something yellow?”

“That’s all Jimmy remembers.”

“Is Will inside?”

“He’s just finishing up with someone.”

Just then the door to his office opened. “Hi, Regan,” Will said. “Say hello to Ned. He works here at the hotel, helping people get in shape.”

“I could use a little exercise,” Regan joked as she reached out her hand.

Ned shook Regan’s hand firmly, so firmly that she had to resist the impulse to massage her thoroughly squeezed palm. He’s a strong, athletic-looking guy, Regan noticed. I guess he can’t help himself. Though he does seem a little distracted and fidgety.

“Nice to meet you. Talk to you later, Will,” he said and was gone.

“He’s a big help,” Will explained as he shut the door. “I’ve had him spending time with that tour group we were talking about before. He’s been great with them. He has a lot of patience.”

He didn’t strike me as the patient type, Regan thought as she sat in what by now felt like her chair. “Will, what happened to the leis?”

“Janet told you they were stolen.”

“I just saw the press conference. I can’t believe it. What is with those leis? It’s as if they’re taking on a life of their own.”

“And just when my parents are coming to town. With my luck someone will offer to sell them to my mother again.”

“What effect will this have on the ball?”

“It’s hard to say. The fund-raising committee is trying to figure out what else they can auction off that will get people excited. People have already paid for their tickets. We have to make sure they don’t try to cancel.”

“No matter what, you’re getting a lot of publicity.”

“If I live through this weekend, it’ll be a miracle.”

The buzzer on Will’s desk rang. Janet informed him that Dorinda’s cousin had arrived.

“This should be interesting,” Will commented with a raised eyebrow as he got up from his desk and walked over to open the door.

Regan turned and was shocked at the sight of Dorinda’s closest kinfolk. Maybe because he lived in Venice Beach, California, she expected a young muscular skateboarder. But this guy was about seventy and had brownish-red shoe polish hair. He was wearing a loud print shirt, tan pants held up by a white patent leather belt, and white patent leather shoes. His bushy eyebrows and sideburns looked as if he’d made an attempt to match them with the shade of his hair but hadn’t quite succeeded. He was medium height and medium build with a protruding stomach that struck Regan as the steering wheel for his body. But he seemed an affable sort as he put down his carry-on bag on the floor and greeted them.

“So pleased to meet you,” he boomed to Will. “I’m the cousin.”

The cousin? Regan thought. That’s a good one. The cousin of the deceased.

Will introduced himself and Regan.

“Hello, Regan,” he boomed. “I’m telling you traveling these days is getting tougher and tougher. The lines at the airports are just terrible. I need to sit down.”

“Please.” Will quickly indicated the other chair in front of his desk. “Your name is?”

“Oh, yes. Well I’m a Dawes. Dorinda’s father and my father were brothers. Dorinda’s father got married much later in life. They said they never thought Uncle Gaggy would tie the knot, but he finally did. That’s why there was a little bit of an age difference between me and Dorie.”

Uncle Gaggy? Dorie? And I’d say there was more than a little bit of an age difference. Your last name is Dawes. And your first name? Regan wondered.

The cousin sat down and crossed his legs, extending his left leg. The pointy toe of his shoe was inches from Regan’s thigh.

“Can I get you anything?” Will asked.

“I’m telling you I could use a mai tai. But right now I’ll settle for a cup of that coffee you have over there.” He pointed to the pot on a side counter. “Is it that fancy Hawaiian coffee that Dorinda liked? She had champagne tastes I’m telling you.”

Will jumped up and poured a cup. “Dorinda did like this Kona coffee,” he mumbled.

“Thank you,” the cousin said as he stirred his coffee and added three sugars. He cleared his throat. “Now as I was saying, Uncle Gaggy married later in life. Dorinda’s mother was no spring chicken, either. They had one child, Dorinda. Her parents have been dead about ten years. I was an only child as well. But we didn’t grow up together. My parents have passed on and I’m Dorie’s only relative, but she didn’t seem that interested in getting together much. We spoke occasionally.” He paused to take a sip.

My God, Regan thought. I never met Dorinda, but from what I gather she wouldn’t have found you to be her speed. And you were her only relative. I’m sure she wouldn’t have introduced you to her friends because she wanted to project a more chic image. Regan was about to ask him a question when he started talking again.

“That’s good coffee. Hawaii produces good coffee,” he pronounced, then started to laugh and slap his knee. “I still haven’t told you my name. I’m Gus Dawes.”

Regan smiled. “It’s good to finally know your name, Gus.”

“Now I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?” he asked as he wiped his mouth with the paper napkin Will had offered him.

Regan looked at Will and decided to let him answer the question. She didn’t know how much Will wanted to tell Dorinda’s only relative about his suspicions relating to her death. She needn’t have worried.

“Regan is a private investigator who is staying at the hotel. I met her the other day and asked her to look into Dorinda’s death,” Will stated.

Gus uncrossed his leg, much to Regan’s relief, and crossed the other one. At least there’s no one sitting in the direction of his other shoe, she thought. Gus leaned forward and grabbed the sole of his left loafer. “I’m not surprised. With that acid pen of hers, I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of people wanted to kill her!” He chuckled. “Even when she was a kid, she was a brat,” he reminisced. “I remember being at a family party. She had her little camera and was going around taking pictures of people’s behinds.” He started laughing, then coughing, then gained control of himself. “She enjoyed making people look stupid.”

Clearly he’s not grief stricken, Regan decided. Will’s expression, she realized, was one of horror. He’s probably wondering why he ever hired her.

“I think that’s a good idea to check out her death,” Gus continued. “I’ve also been thinking about that lei she had around her neck. She always managed to get herself into trouble.”

“That lei has been stolen again,” Will informed him and gave the details of what he knew.

Gus slapped Will’s desk. “You’re kidding! Well, I’ll tell you.”

“When’s the last time you saw Dorinda?” Regan asked.

“Three or four years ago.”

“You live in California?” Regan asked.

“Yes. I love the sun. It’s wonderful.”