Chapter 2 Police Inquest

Kon-Tiki Sands was designed for socializing. Twelve condominiums—four units to each of three sides—face inward toward a tropical courtyard that includs a barbecue area, a pool, and the heart-shaped hot tub. The manager’s office, laundry room, storage room, and an open-air clubhouse comprise the fourth side, completing the enclosed square.

A tall, barrel-shaped police officer with a heavy Pidgin accent introduced himself to us as Officer Hoapoili. He herded the group of stunned women into the clubhouse, out of view of the pool deck. The coroner and his crew had already strung up yellow crime scene tape and were preparing to pull the body from the water.

Some of the women hugged each other, weeping openly, while the others held hands in quiet shock. I hadn’t known the dead woman, but witnessing the grief of her friends brought stinging tears to my eyes.

My knees throbbed from exertion. My backside ached from the fall. I eased myself onto a cigarette-scarred bamboo sofa beside Esther. She’d refused to be taken to the hospital after being examined by EMTs.

“How’re you doing?” I asked her.

She swiped away a tear as it trickled down her cheek, sniffled, gave her head a slow shake. “I’ll be okay. I just can’t believe it. Pearl is gone. She was the youngest one of us, and so active. I was sure she’d outlive us all.”

I shivered in spite of the eighty-five-degree heat and pulled my towel tighter around my shoulders. I was the only one who’d gotten wet this morning, not to mention the only one who’d hot-tubbed with a corpse. All I wanted was to get back to my condo and take the longest, hottest shower of my life. But because the body had been found in unusual circumstances, the Officer Hoapili explained, the cause of death couldn’t immediately be written off as natural. No one would be allowed to leave until the he’d spoken with each of us.

It was my first time in the clubhouse. I let my eyes roam over the room’s décor—a style made popular in the sixties that I could only call tacky tiki. A bar with cracked orange Naugahyde stools took up one end of the room. Two sofas and a number of chairs, all with cushions upholstered in a putrid gold and brown Hawaiian print, sat grouped around a large kidney-shaped coffee table. Glass fishing floats, dulled by years of cigarette smoke and dust, hung from the ceiling. Faded tapa cloth lined one wall. Another wall had been painted turquoise and hung with a fishnet. Dead starfish sprayed hot pink, bright red faux lobsters and crabs, a variety of plastic fish, and neon-colored seashells clung to the net. Carved wooden tikis of various sizes grimaced from the darkened corners of the room. A large oval poker table and a flat screen TV completed the amenities.

Our live-in manager, Romy, shuffled in wearing a grim expression. Based on his full head of graying brown hair, cut with Caesar bangs, I guessed him to be somewhere in his fifties. Which made him a good twenty to thirty years younger than the average Kon-Tiki resident. The day I moved in he’d told me he’s a retired PE teacher. But his yellowish pallor, fleshy jowls, and liver-colored bags under his eyes spoke of years of unhealthy living. Today he was dressed in the only type of outfit I’d seen him in: loose shorts, a stained tee shirt that rode up over his low-hanging paunch, knee-high compression socks with worn-out Crocs. Romy dragged a stool over from the bar and hoisted himself onto it.

Officer Hoapili cleared his throat. The room quieted. “I won’t keep you folks for long,” he said. What I need from everyone at dis time is your names and contac’ information, in case we get any questions later.” He looked to Romy. “You da live-in manager?”

“Yes, sir. Romeo DeLosa. You can call me Romy.”

“You wen’ check inside da hot tub before you lock da gate last night?”

“Absolutely. I always check the pool and the hot tub before I close up. There was no one around.”

“And who wen’ open da gate dis morning?”

“I did. At seven-thirty.”

Hoapili jotted on a notepad. “And da gate was lock when you get dere.”

Romy squinted dark eyes that were too small for his fleshy face, then nodded. “Yes.”

“Did you go inside, take one look around when you unlock it?”

“No, sir. I just swung the gate open and headed back to my office. I wanted to grab a cup of coffee before aqua jogging started at eight. I lifeguard for the ladies during their classes, make sure everyone stays safe.”

“You one certify lifeguard?”

“Not anymore, but I was for thirty years.”

“Did Ms. Corvelli know how for swim?”

“Yes, sir. She was a good swimmer. She spent hours tanning by the pool. Every half hour or so she’d jump in and swim a few laps to cool off.”

Hoapili rubbed his chin with two fingers. “Anyone else get one key to da pool?”

“No.”

“Where you keep your keys?”

Romy held up several keys that dangled from a lanyard around his neck. “During the day, they stay right here. At night I keep them in my condo.”

“Any way someone could’a took your keys and put ’em back?”

Romy hesitated before shaking his head. “I don’t think so.”

“And dis complex stay secure at night?”

“Yes. During the day is takes a card key to get in the glass sliding doors on the street side. There’s a back gate to the parking lot and dumpsters, also controlled by card keys. We have a ten o’clock curfew. Anyone entering the building after ten p.m. needs to buzz my apartment.”

“How often dat happen?”

“Never. Nothing goes on around here after ten p.m. By then everyone’s at home, either watching TV or sound asleep.”

“Okay,” Hoapili said, making some notes. “Da Medical Examiner goin’ give us one bettah estimate of da time of death, but my best guess is Ms.  was dead at least a few hours before da ladies wen’ find her.” He locked eyes with Romy. “How you think she wen’ end up in da hot tub in da middle of da night?”

Romy held his gaze. “I can’t imagine, sir.”