Chapter 3 Meeting the Neighbors

Officer Hoapili turned his attention to the women, whose sobbing had quieted during his exchange with Romy. “You ladies are all residents here?”

No one answered.

Finally, Romy spoke up. “They’re all resident owners.”

“How many units get in da building?”

“Twelve.”

“And how many people live here, total?”

“Twelve. One in each unit. Well … eleven, now that Pearl …”

Hoapili gave an appropriately solemn nod. “First I like get everybody’s name, telephone numbah, and unit numbah. Den I can let you go.” He turned a page in his notebook . “I get you, Mistah Delosa, in one-oh-one.”

“That’s right.” Romy recited his office and cell numbers.

“Who live in one-oh-two?”

“I do,” said the anorexic, over-tanned, bleached blonde. Her leopard print swimsuit hugged her knobby frame. She appeared to have had multiple plastic surgeries so it was impossible to guess her age.

“Your name?” Hoapili asked.

“Vee-oh-lette La Fontaine.” She pushed her Prada sunglasses to her head and used a tissue to dab mascara from below her eyes.

“How you spell your first name?”

“V-I-O-L-E-T.”

Hoapili raised an eyebrow as he wrote her name, then got her cell number. “And who live in one-oh-three?”

“That’s Kaulana’s unit,” Tiare said. She held her back straight, hands resting on the arms of the chair, one long leg crossed over the other. Tears glistened on her cheeks, but her voice was clear and strong.

“Kaulana wen’ Vegas,” the stout Japanese woman threw in. She had a surprisingly girlish voice for someone who, at a distance, could be mistaken for a man. She wore her hair cut very short and dyed ink-black, and was the only one fully decked out in head-to-toe Hydroskin.

“She did not,” said Tiare, her chin tilted upward. Even sitting, she seemed to look down at everyone else in the room. I got the impression she was used to getting her way. “She’s on Maui, visiting her daughter. She gets back tonight.”

While Hoapili’s eyes were on Tiare, Violet slipped a silver flask from her bag, took a big slug, and shoved it back in.

Hoapili’s pen hovered. His gaze moved between Mae and Tiare before settling on Tiare. “Can I get Kaulana’s last name?”

“Kano.”

“Mahalo. And who live in one-oh-four?”

“That’s me,” said Esther beside me. “Esther Brown.”

He made a note of her name and phone number. “One-oh-five?”

The Japanese woman gave a little finger wave. “Me.”

“Your name?”

“Masako Watanabe—but  call me Mae. That’s M-A-E.” She recited her phone number.

“Thank you. One-oh-six?”

“Me.” I raised my hand, then felt silly and let it fall. “Lillian Reuben.”

“You  da one wen’ discover da body, yeah?”

I started to nod, then looked to Esther. “Well, Esther was actually the first to see it. I heard her scream and turned just in time to see her pass out. I hurried over to help Esther, and that’s when I saw the … the woman in the hot tub.”

“You recognize da body?”

“No. I’d never met her. I just moved in last Thursday and I’ve been busy getting settled. Today was my first time joining any of the activities.”

“Okay. Ms. Reuben, Ms. Brown, we may need fo’ speak with both of you again.”

We nodded and gave him our contact information.

“One-oh-seven?”

“Francesca Wolfe,” said the strong-looking woman dressed in men’s board shorts and a turquoise rash guard. She recited her phone number in a guttural voice with a heavy German accent.

“Thank you. And one-oh-eight?”

“Tiare Māhoe.”

Officer Hoapili’s eyebrows shot up. “Eh, Tiare Māhoe! My parents love you.  I need fo’ get your autograph before I go.”

Tiare gave him a sweet smile. “Of course.”

“Okay, who live in one-oh-nine?”

“Coralee Beck.”

“And you teach da aqua jogging class, Ms. Beck?”

Coralee nodded, her nose red, her eyes puffy from crying. “In an unofficial capacity. It’s something I enjoy and I’ve invited the other ladies to join me if they want.”

“Do most of ’em join you?”

The corners of her mouth lifted. “They all do.”

“Including Ms. Corvelli?”

Coralee’s smile dropped. She took a deep breath and nodded. Her voice broke as she said, “Yes.”

“Okay, who live in one-ten?”

There was a moment of silence before Romy said, “That’s Pearl’s unit.”

 Officer Hoapili jotted in his book. “And one-eleven?”

“Me,” said Sylvie, whose chair was pulled up beside Hoapili’s.

“Can I get your name?”

Sylvie’s earlier devastation seemed to vanish. She gave him a wide-eyed smile. “I’m Sylvie.”

“Last name?”

“Ferguson. You know, you remind me of my son-in-law. He’s a reverend, too.”

Officer Hoapili’s pen froze. He gave her a stare.

“Father, can I make a confession?” Sylvie tugged at the waistband of her nylon underpants. “Now, don’t tell Pearl I said this.” She looked around the room like a mischievous schoolgirl. “She’s not a natural redhead. I know because—”

“Sylvie!” Tiare commanded. “That’s enough.”

Sylvie jolted as if she’d been slapped. The smile dropped from her face.

“Sorry, Officer,” Tiare said. “Sylvie gets confused.”

Officer Hoapili glanced at Romy, who raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

Hoapili let out a long breath and took a minute to refer to his notes. “Okay, get one more condo here? One-twelve?”

“That’s Arnie’s unit,” Romy said.

“He stay at home?”

“I think so. Want me to go get him?”

“Please.”

Romy disappeared around the corner. A few minutes later he returned with a slight, pleasant-looking man at his side. I’d seen Arnie a few times around the complex and he always greeted me with a nod and a hello. He had little hair, a deep tan, and the sunburned head and neck of an avid golfer. This morning he was neatly dressed in an aloha shirt, khaki shorts, white socks, and tan orthopedic walking shoes.

Arnie gave the room a friendly wave and perched on the edge of the only available chair. He leaned slightly forward, knees together, clasped hands resting on his lap, as though he didn’t expect to be there long.

“Good morning, sir,” Hoapili said.

Arnie offered him a nod and a benign smile. “Good morning.”

“I’m Officer Hoapili. Can I get your full name?”

Uncertainty crossed Arnie’s face. His eyes flitted to Romy.

“His name’s Arnold Kaye,” Romy said. But you can call him Arnie.”

Hoapili jotted in his notebook. “And you live in unit one-twelve?”

Again, Arnie looked to Romy.

“That’s right.” Romy said.

Relief replaced Arnie’s look of confusion. His vague smile returned.

Hoapili said, “Mistah Kaye—Arnie.”

“Yes?”

“Are you aware of why we are here?”

Arnie shook his head and continued to smile.

“Your neighbor in unit one-eleven, Pearl Corvelli, was found dead this morning.”

Arnie pursed his lips. “That’s terrible.”

“How well you knew her?”

“I don’t believe I ever met her.”

Hoapili glanced at Romy, who gave a slight head shake. Romy leaned closer to Hoapili and said in a loud whisper, “Can we talk in my office?”

Hoapili stood. “Thank you ladies—and gentleman—for your time. If I get any more questions, I’ll be in touch.”