“I blame you, you know.”

Stacy looked up.
“You wanted to come here. Those people would have died one way or another. But you wanted to come here and you brought me and I found them and now I’m traumatized for life.”

Stacy looked at her friend with concern, but Anne had a small smile. Stacy sighed with relief.
“You don’t really mean that.”
“I don’t really mean that,” Anne shook her head, agreeing.  She sighed and sipped her Blue Lagoon, slowly. “I think I’m gonna get some therapy when I get home, but I’ll get through okay. Not what I thought I’d be doing at Christmas, though,” she looked blandly at the glimmering lights in the window.

Stacy had decided, after finding her friend almost catatonic in the hotel room, that good food and just the right amount of delicious booze would be the best solution to her woes. That was Stacy’s usual technique, but fortunately, it usually worked, too. Now Anne was looking more like herself, and Stacy was starting to feel less nervous.

“It’s pretty awful though,” Stacy admitted. “Annie… I’m really sorry. You’re right about what you said. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”
“Eh,” Anne dismissed with a wave. “How could you have known, you know? Unless you did,” Anne narrowed her eyes. “Are you the killer?”

Stacy flushed and had an uncomfortable laugh.
“Are you being crazy again?”

Anne smiles, weak. “Yeah, guess so.”

She sighed, and blew lazy bubbles through her straw, noisy in the blue alcohol.

***

“Anne Reynolds.”

Wakamoto’s face was impassible.
“Who’s that?”
“You don’t know?”
“Should I?”

Kanahele looked at him.

Wakamoto’s brow furrowed thoughtfully.
“Is she a singer?”
“That’s Anne Murray,” Cindy piped up.
“Oh. Right. Short hair, right? Country music?”
“I think so.”
“Forget Anne Murray,” Rob frowned, getting impatient. “We’re talking about Anne Reynolds.”
“No,” Wakamoto looked at him levelly. “I’ve never heard of her. Who is she?”

“A guest at the hotel,” he said. “She found Mr. Ueshiba’s body.”

Wakamoto looked down.
“Oh.”

“She found another body as well, Mr. Wakamoto,” Kanahele said.
The businessman looked up. “Who?”
“A hotel employee. Carlos Villenza.”
Ken frowned. “What happened?”
“Found dead late last night,” Rob said. He deliberated a moment, then added, carefully watching Wakamoto’s expression: “Killed the same way as Kazuma.”

Wakamoto’s face paled as the blood rushed to his gut, eyes full of shock pinning the inspector.
“You mean – you mean the…” He looked away, licking dry lips. “Is…”

Kanahele watched him.

“… I – inspector, is there a… um serial killer on the loose in this hotel, inspector?” He looked at him, alarmed. “Someone… someone mad, or…?”

“Probably not,” Rob said levelly. “But it’s a possibility.”
The full meaning of this took a moment to dawn on Ken. His face was more drawn when he looked at the detective again.
“You’re saying the murders might be connected.”
Rob had a small shrug.
“Did Kazuma know this man?” Wakamoto frowned.
“You tell me,” Rob said.
“Uh – who – who was he again?”
“One of the cleaning staff. Hispanic, 5′6, short hair, 21 years old.”
Ken looked down, thoughtful. Then he shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think I saw Kazuma talk to anyone of that description.”
“Could Kazuma have been seeing him when you weren’t around?”

Wakamoto scowled at the inspector. “He never left my side. “
“That’s not true,” Sgt. Fujita interrupted. “I have two records here of a single set of scuba equipment being rented on your credit card.”
Wakamoto sighed. “I did it once and it wasn’t my cup of tea. So all right. Yes, he left my side to go diving a couple times.”
“Other small things like that, that you could have forgotten?” Kanahele leaned back. “Maybe you didn’t think was worth telling us?”
Wakamoto shot him a glare.
“We need all the help we can get, Wakamoto-san,” Cindy said gently.

Wakamoto sighed, and leaned back in his chair as well. He let his eyes watch the stormy sky.

“Kazuma was hard to control. He was young, and free, and wild. And I loved that. He spent my money, he drank too much, and I knew he was sleeping around even before I knew he was sleeping with – well.” He released a sigh, eyes closing. “Still… He was everything to me,” his eyes opened a little, but looked at nothing. “And yet… I’m finding it isn’t easy to grieve his death. Losing him… It’s terrible pain, inspector, but it’s also a relief. Misato was right. He was a poison in my life. He doubted himself constantly, and I ended up doubting myself too. I don’t think I ever knew who he was,” Wakamoto found the inspector’s gaze. “So, I don’t know what I can tell you. Yes, he was apart from me from time to time, here. We fought in the taxi on the way from the airport. There was already trouble in Paradise. But there had always been trouble. I was in love with him, but it had always been trouble.”

Inspector Kanahele let all this register, and waited to see if the man was going to add anything. When he didn’t he spoke again.
“What about this Kunitz guy?”

Wakamoto looked a little surprised by the change of topic.
“Adam? What about him?”
“You two still sleeping together?”
“How is that any of your business,” Ken frowned, straightening.
“Everything’s my business in a murder investigation, Mr. Wakamoto. Yes or no?”
Ken looked at his hands. “… I… I’m not sure. We’re close.” He looked at Kanahele. “I’m not exactly much in the mood these days, if you’ll understand.” He glared.

“How did you meet?”
“The day of my fight with Kazuma. My… the fight where he told me about Misato. But I told you already, didn’t I? I met him in the bar, after the fight.”
Rob flattened the crease of his pants. “He told us you met before that.” It was a shot in the dark.
“What?” Wakamoto frowned. “Why would he say that?”
“Is it true?” he looked at the Japanese man’s face.
“Absolutely not,” Wakamoto glared. “I’ve never met him before in my life.”
“Sure sure?”
“Yes,” Wakamoto insisted. “Wh – why would he say otherwise? What’s he – ” Ken shook his head, uncomprehending.

Kanahele breathed, and let it drop. Either Wakamoto was as good a liar as Kunitz, or they were both telling the truth.

Damn.

***

“Why, if it isn’t the resident bloodhound.”

Anne looked up from her nachos. “You again?”
“Who’s he?” Stacy asked, frowning.
“Adam Kunitz, at your service,” he smiled. “Word on the street is that you’ve found another stiff.”
“He’s Wakamoto’s boyfriend,” Anne explained to Stacy.
“Who’s Wakamoto?” Stacy frowned.
“The guy who was arguing with the Japanese guy who died.”
“I’m not his boyfriend,” Adam crossed his arms, looking at the women. “Kazuma was his boyfriend. And we all know where that left him. It’s not a spot I’m particularly eager to fill.”

Anne looked at him, straightening.
“So you didn’t kill him?” she asked, levelly.
Adam just laughed, a hearty thing, teeth white, neck arched back.

“The cops think you do,” Anne fingered a nacho, still watching Adam.
Adam sparkled at her. “Past tense, sweetheart,” He pulled up a chair and spun it, sitting down with his forearms leaning on the back. “Guess who they think did it now.”

Anne looked at him uncomprehending. Stacy frowned. “Sure, why don’tcha join us,” she raised her eyebrows, face unsmiling.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Adam grinned.

“Who do they think did it?” Anne nibbled a nacho, eyes riveted on the cocky redhead.

He turned to her, and bared his teeth in a playful sneer.

She answered it with a confused frown.
He laughed.
“Man, you’re slow. You, sweetheart.”
“ME?”
Adam looked like a cat that had devoured an aviary full of canaries. “The one and only.”

Stacy put her hands on the table.
“Now wait a minute here. Just, just wait a minute. Annie didn’t kill anybody.”

“Never said she did,” Adam looked at them. “Just sharing my amusement that the tables seem to have turned.”
“Well it’s not amusing,” Stacy snapped.
“What do you mean, the tables have turned?”

“Hmm,” Adam took a nacho, gingerly, and looked at it. “I’m not public enemy number one anymore.” Blue eyes fixed her.
“Did you… Did you make them suspect me?” Anne gazed back.
“You son of a bitch,” Stacy growled.
“Hey, hey,” Adam waved his nacho. “I didn’t do nothin’.”
“You’re still a son of a bitch,” Stacy snarled. “And you’re not welcome at our table.”

“Hoo hooo!” Adam hooted. “Well, protective of your girlfriend, aren’t you.”
Stacy stood, angrily, but Anne huffed.
“Guys, chill,” she said. “Sit down, Stace. He can stay.”

Stacy glared at him, but sat down.
“Eat your damn nacho,” she spat.

Adam twinkled, and did.

Anne looked at him.
“This isn’t a social call,” she said, murky eyes unswerving. “What do you want.”

Adam tapped the table thoughtfully.
“Hmmm.” He shook his mane. “Maybe I want to help you.”

“Of course,” Stacy huffed.
“Why?” Anne frowned. “Why would you want to help me? You should want to keep me in the top spot on their list. I’m sure they haven’t ruled you out entirely,” she sipped her drink, a little jauntily.
Adam had a delighted laugh.
“Exactly. If suspicion goes off you, I’m back in the spotlight, as likely as not.”
“Right?” Anne narrowed her eyes, confusedly. “So, I don’t get you. You want to be in the spotlight?”
Adam laughed! “Doesn’t every girl?” he winked. “Not in this way though, I’ll grant you that.”
“So.”
“So,” Adam responded, unfazed, “the problem is that you’re obviously innocent, you cottonheaded little thing. And, if I may say, it’s obvious that the sexy inspector man thinks so too.” Anne frowned, but Adam continued. “So, eventually something will exonerate you and I’ll be the fall guy again. Just a matter of time.”
“So you want to speed up the process?” Stacy gave him a cynical look.
“Hmmm,” Adam smiled. “I want an ally.” He looked at Stacy, and then at Anne. “I didn’t kill him either, of course. But no one’s going to take my word for it. I scratch your back, you scratch mine?”

Stacy crossed her arms. Anne was still frowning at the ‘cottonheaded’ comment.

“…What is it you’re proposing, exactly, Kunitz?” Stacy raised her chin.
Adam smiled.
“We run our own little investigation,” he looked from one to the other. “Find out who’s really behind this.”
“You’re nuts,” Stacy said.
“Mm,” Adam shrugged. “Maybe.”

The two of them stared at each other over the nachos, and Anne rubbed her forehead.
“… This is the most surreal vacation ever,” she said, eyes closed. “Why do you think this is a good idea, Adam?” She opened them at him.
“Um,” he smiled, breaking his steely gaze on Stacy and eyeing Anne. “For um, justice?”
Anne shook her head.
“You just think it’s a game,” she sighed. “Don’t you. I know your type.”
Adam made a noncommital sound.
“It’s not a game, Adam. We can’t just go around and play detective.” She sighed, taking a sip of her drink. “And – and even if we did,” she shook her head, “there’s no way we’ll find anything the police have overlooked. They’re not stupid.” She took a nacho. “Inspector Kanahele is a really great guy.”

Adam raised his eyebrows.
“That’s not where I saw that sentence going,” he remarked. “Are we developing a crush on the beefy detective?”
Anne scowled. “He’s just a great guy.”
“Hm,” Adam took another nacho, and ate it, smirking. “Anyway, I’ve gotta admit, it’s less about finding something they’ve overlooked than finding ways to pass the time.” He stood, turned his chair the right way and stretched out his legs. “Neither of us have been charged but it’s not like we can leave the premises, either. We’re on forced vacation. House arrest.” He tapped the table with a finger. “I’m bored, Anne,” Adam said, with a conspiratorial smile. “And I hate, hate, hate being bored.” He leaned back. “You’re not going to tell me you’ve never felt like playing detective?”

***
“So, inspector?” Fujita said, legs tucked up under her on the hotel room couch. “How’s the investigation looking on your end?”

Rob rubbed his eyes again.
“Kunitz and the other guy are looking less and less like killers, and that’s bugging me,” he said. “Hey, what time is it in Japan?”

“Uhh…” Cindy looked at her watch and thought for a bit. “12:20, I think. Uh, 12:20 PM, tomorrow. 19 hours because of the dateline, right?”

Kanahele nodded and flicked open his phone. He dialed Misato’s number again. Still no answer.
“Where is that girl?” he muttered to himself.

“Trying Wakamoto’s daughter again?” Cindy asked.
“Mm,” Rob made a star on his list.
“She’s probably in class. Think it’s important?”
Rob pursed his lips. “Probably not. Any news from Tim?”
“Not me,” Cindy shook her head.
“The beachcombers?” Rob tapped his list with a pen, looking to check off anything at all, really.
“There’s three guys out there right now. Haven’t found any trace of a dinghy or a potential murder weapon or crime scene.”

“I should talk to Oosterhout… Get those security tapes. And bring those cleaning boys in. They all probably know by now. Who knows, maybe one of them did it. Maybe it’s separate cases after all.” He drew a very tenuous line on the legal pad. “No one involved in the Ueshiba investigation has anything to do with Villenza…”

“Except the murderer, maybe,” Fujita pointed out. “Whoever that is.”
Rob looked at her.
“…Except the murderer maybe.” He agreed. He wrote WHO DID IT??? in the margin of his list, and underlined it again, and again, and again…

He was just drifting into a kind of half-sleep when his cell phone rang. He picked it up immediately.
“Kanahele.”

“Hey, Inspector, it’s Tim Duncan. Got that info you wanted, the phone stuff.”
“Fantastic,” Rob sat up straighter. “Gimme what you got.”
“Okee dokee.” A rustling of papers. “Um, what do you want me to start with?”
“Whatever,” Rob said.
“OK. All right, well, that number you told me to trace? The local one you said you found in the dead guy’s room? It’s one of those rent-a-cells.”
“Tourist?”
“Probably, but could be anybody. The name on the contract is a company.”
“What is it?”
“Cell-a-minute. They give phones out on the cheap, there’s a booth in every mall.”
“Shit. So no way to track the phone down?”
“Uhn-uh. No answer, and no voicemail either. I tried that.”

“All right.” Rob noted this down. “Dead end, you’re saying.”
“Pretty much, unless the person starts picking up the phone.”
“Gotcha. How about those private numbers from the hotel phone log?”

Tim’s grin was almost audible. “Oh yeah. I got those.”
“And?”
“Four different numbers, all in Japan. One’s a business – the head office of Ladybird Fashion in Tokyo -”
” – Wakamoto’s company. Go on.”
“The rest are home numbers, one registered to Wakamoto Ken, one to Wakamoto Misato, and one to Hori Satoru.” Before Rob could take a breath to ask, Tim continued: “I looked him up. He’s the VP of marketing for Ladybird.”
“So his story of making business calls checks out.”
“Except for calling his own house and the daughter, yeah. Calling his house might have been checking voicemail, though. That’s how it comes up sometimes. “

Rob considered this.
“Okay. What else have you got for me?”

A pause.
“Nothing much, sir.”
Rob nodded. “I’ve got another job for you, if you have the time.”
“Sure.” Police work was never a 9-to-5 job for Tim.
“Wakamoto Misato. You’ve got her number now? Try to reach her.”
“What do I say if I do?”
“That she should call her father in Hawaii.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Can you track down hotel records for all calls placed from the hotel room of one Anne Reynolds, room 302? Same with Adam Kunitz, room 211.”
“Sure thing, inspector. Is that it?”

Rob looked at the jotted-down number Wakamoto had given him.
“One more thing. I’m gonna give you a cell number, it’s Japanese, can you get its ping record?”
“Sure, if I can get a subpoena,” Tim said. “But international, I dunno, it might take a while. Victim’s cell?”
“Yeah.” Kanahele said. He recited the number. “Phone’s gone missing, and we think it might have important information on it.”
“Gotcha. I’ll let you know when I have something, inspector.”
“Thanks.”

Kanahele hung up.

***

Anne shook the little snow globe and watched the penises fall onto the plastic ocean.

A knock came on the door, and she muted the TV.
She hopped off the bed and answered it. It was a uniformed cop. Her face fell.

“Miss Reynolds? Inspector Kanahele would like to talk to you.”

Anne nodded, and put the snow globe on the mantelpiece.

***

Anne shuffled in.

“Inspector?”

“Miss Reynolds,” Kanahele stood gallantly when she entered. “How are you feeling?”
“Kinda better,” she admitted. She looked around. “Where’s the sidekick?”

“Sorry?”
“The…” Anne flushed. “The girl who works with you. I dunno, she was always around before.”
“Oh, Sgt. Fujita,” Rob suppressed his amusement. “She’s gone to check on something.”

Anne nodded.
She sat down.

Her eyes turned warily to Kanahele.
“Something troubling you, inspector?”

He watched her.
“Yes and no,” he said. “I’m not very happy with the body turning up in your room.”
“You’re not very happy?”
Rob smiled. “I understand how it might be worse for you.”
“Uh-huh,” Anne nodded, staring.
“Let’s go over again how you found the – “
“Do you suspect me?”

Rob looked at her.
Anne blinked.
“Do you suspect me. Please, just, tell me if you do.”

Kanahele measured his words carefully.
“There’s usually a better reason than coincidence for which one person could be around when two bodies are found.”
“Is there now.”
“Mm-hm.”

Anne trembled a little, but Rob was surprised to notice it was anger, not fear, in the woman.

“— You — How could you – how – you think I did it?”
Kanahele pursed his lips a little, and shrugged.
“Seriously? Why would I? I didn’t know either of those guys. Why the hell would I kill the cleaner? Or that Japanese guy?”

Kanahele remained quiet.
“The cleaner could have witnessed Ueshiba’s murder.”
“Uh huh?”
“And… Perhaps you and Ueshiba had a past.”
“We didn’t.” Anne said sharply.

Kanahele folded his hands on his lap.
“I’m letting the circumstances speak for themselves a little, I’m just listening.”
Anne looked at him with discerning eyes.
“You should listen to me instead of to circumstantial evidence. I never killed anybody and I certainly had no motive to kill either of these guys. Jesus,” she turned away. “Fuck. Coming here wasn’t even my idea. Am I seriously a murder suspect? I mean seriously?”

Rob was externally too still to fidget, but he did internally.
“I’m afraid so. But you realize, the entire hotel is under lockdown. You are one suspect among others.”
Anne looked at him again, her anger slightly softened. He was trying to make her feel better…

That fact alone calmed her down a bit. So Kanahele suspected her, but maybe he didn’t want to.
She looked down.
“I’m sorry, inspector,” she said. “You must have a good reason to suspect me. I don’t suppose you want to share with me what it is, but…” She looked up hopefully.

He did fidget then. “It’s quite likely that the cleaner, Villenza, believed that you had killed Kazuma Ueshiba.” He left it at that.

Anne frowned. “Well, he was nuts then. How do you know that?”
Rob shook his head. “I think I’ll keep that confidential for a while.”
Anne nodded.
“Well.”

“Yeah,” Rob looked at her. “… Listen, if you’re innocent, time will prove you innocent. I run a very serious investigation, miss Reynolds. If you’re innocent, you have nothing to worry about, and I’m sincerely sorry for you getting caught up in this.” Half a smile came to his lips. “If you’re guilty though, I’m going to find out.”

Anne smiled a little too.
“Fair enough, inspector,” she said. “Anything I can do to help prove my innocence?”
He looked at her.
“Just tell the truth.” He looked at his notes. “You said you weren’t here alone, is that right?”
“Yeah, I’m here with my friend Stacy.”
“Is she the one who planned the trip?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll talk to her next.”
Anne nodded.

And that was that.

***

“Did I miss much?” Cindy sat down on the bed, cross-legged.

Rob barely glanced up.
“Nope.” he tapped his pencil on the notebook. “What did the cleaning crew say?”

Cindy opened her own notebook. “I talked to everyone who knew Villenza. There’s twenty-two people on staff that do housekeeping, either in the rooms or in the common areas or on the grounds. I only spoke with those who would have had the chance to talk to the victim. That’s about ten people.  All the kids we interviewed last time, and a few more. I spoke to them independently. No one knows anything about anything he might have witnessed, inspector.” She shook her head.
Kanahele grunted.
“I want to know why that kid didn’t speak up.”
“He was probably scared to.”
“Why? Unless the killer was threatening him…”
“You mean, if the killer knew what he had witnessed?”
“Maybe.”
“Why not just kill him right away, then?”
Rob shook his head. “Maybe they were friends or something.”
Cindy looked thoughtful.
“Anne Reynolds wouldn’t have been friends with Carlos Villenza.”
“It’s a point towards her innocence, yeah, probably. Unless she’s lying.” He leaned back, closing his eyes. “I have a tendency to assume people are lying.”
“I’m sure it makes you good at your job, inspector,” Cindy said, skillfully.
He grunted.
A knock came at the door.

***

“Stacy Lynch, age 33, of Indianapolis, Indiana.”

Stacy shifted in her seat.
“Look, first off, before you ask me anything – I gotta say it – there’s no way Anne could be a murderer. Seriously. I’ve known the girl for years. She’s got a very even temper. She doesn’t hold a grudge.”

Kanahele nodded. “Noted, Miss Lynch. Tell me about her everyday life in Indianapolis. Job, friends, family, so on.”
She eyed him dubiously. “What does all that have to do with anything?”
“Miss Reynolds is a suspect in a homicide investigation. I like to know my suspects. Please.”

Stacy crossed her arms. “Well, if you insist then. Okay. She’s the youngest of three kids, has a brother and sister. Sister’s a doctor and brother does something with furniture. Parents divorced, dad lives in the middle of nowhere in Minnesota I think, where he’s from originally. Anne’s never been married but she’s had a couple of important boyfriends, but nothing really in the time I’ve been working with her.”
“How long’s that?”
“About 3 years.”
“And did you know her before that?”
“No.”
“The things you know about her…”
“She told me. We hang out quite a bit. Go out on Fridays, usually, you know, have some drinks and stuff. Maybe catch a movie. Girls’ night out, y’know?” She winked at Cindy, who responded with a noncommittal smile.

“Just the two of you?”
“Sometimes with some other girls from work. But the two of us hang out almost every week, one way or another. Sometimes there’s parties. You know.”

Kanahele nodded. “What about work?”

Stacy looked up, thoughtful.
“I think she’s good at her job. I think maybe she wanted to be a lawyer but is too shy, you know? I just like the law life, but I could never have the aptitude do actually go and present cases or anything. But Anne’s probably quite a  bit smarter than me. She’s just super quiet about it.”
“So she likes her job?”
“I dunno. Yeah, I guess so. When we’re not at work, we try not to talk about work too much, you know? And when we are at work, then we’re usually too busy to talk at all.” Stacy smiled, glimmering.
“I understand.” Rob steepled his fingers. “Tell me about this trip. How was it organized? What was miss Reynolds’ involvement?”

“Well, in the fall we were having this conversation at lunch and realized we both really wanted to go to Hawaii to escape the winter. That’s how it started. I dunno, her involvement… We sent each other links to travel websites and stuff. I think she suggested Maui, she didn’t want anything too Honololu and I wanted somewhere where I could shop and get massages and just be in paradise for a while, you know?”
Kanahele nodded.
“So…” Stacy pursed her lips. “Anne probably complained about this place to you, well, so, yeah, I picked the resort. I like ogling good-looking guys, inspector, there’s no crime in that, is there?” she sparkled. “And I wanted a place where I wouldn’t have to deal with getting hit on every time I went to get a drink.”

“You said Anne complained about this place?”
“Oh, she didn’t complain to you? Okay. Well anyway, yeah. When we arrived she was so pissed. I mean, that it was a gay resort and all. See, don’t tell her I said this, but Annie’s pretty desperate for a man.”
“Ah?”
“Mm hmm,” Stacy nodded. “She hasn’t had a boyfriend for a while and while I find them to me more of a hassle than anything, she – I dunno, I guess she’s lonely.” Stacy sighed. “I know she mentioned it before I picked the place and I know I didn’t listen to her, does that make me a bad friend?”
“A selfish one perhaps,” Rob allowed himself a small smile.
Stacy pouted. “And now I’ve gotten her involved in all of this, I mean, my god,” she shook her head. “Being somewhere where there’s a murder is bad enough – but finding the body? Twice?” She had an appalled and apologetic face.

“You’ve been somewhere where there was a murder before, miss Lynch?” Sgt. Fujita asked.
Stacy looked at her.
“I lived in New York City for a couple years.”
“Something happened close to you?” it was Kanahele.
“Someone in my apartment building got shot,” she said. She shook her head. “No one I knew, really. Still, I’m not a big-city girl. It scared me shitless, if you’ll pardon my French, inspector.”

Rob said it was okay.

Then he started on the harder questions.

***

Anne returned to the bar once Stacy replaced her in the police suite.

“You’re right. They suspect me. Fine. Let’s work on this.”

Anne let herself fall into the chair across from Adam. On the stage at the front of the pub dining room, a voluptuous drag queen in a modest sequin gown was crooning Blue Christmas to piano accompaniment.

Adam looked up from his piña colada.
“Told you so.”
Anne grunted.
“What’re you drinking?”
“Piña colada, want one?”
“Yes.” Anne sighed. “I hope Stacy’s doing okay.”
“She’s nice, I like her.”

Anne had a little smile.
“You realize this means total disclosure.” She flagged down a waiter and ordered a piña colada. “So what’s going on between you and Wakamoto, anyway?”

Adam laughed! “Stacy asked the same thing.”
“And?”
“I gave her enough dirty details to make her toes curl. She seemed happy.”
“So you have a generous heart after all,” Anne giggled.
“Believe it or not, I do know how to satisfy some women,” he winked.

Anne sighed, feeling horribly blue-Christmasy herself but strangely soothed by Adam’s fiery company.

Adam leaned back.
“I don’t think that’s what you’re asking about though,” he smiled.
Anne smiled too. “Not so much.”
He nodded.
“In that case, I’m really not sure.”

Anne understood.
“Yeah, I’ve had relationships like that. What do you want to be going on?”
“Mm… also not sure,” Adam grinned. “He’s really interesting.”
“Like murderer interesting?” Anne raised a daring eyebrow.
“No, Anne.”
“You sure? Who the heck else had a motive except for him and you?”
“The police seem to think you did.”
“Well the police are stupid!” Anne frowned, then thanked the waiter who brought her her drink.
“Right.” Adam watched the waiter leave. “So you say you didn’t do it, I say I didn’t, Ken says he didn’t. Someone did. And the police are being stupid. So?”

Anne sipped. “Hmm. So, maybe one of us is lying.”

“I lie a lot, lady, but I’m not lying now.”
“Do you think Ken had a motive for killing his boyfriend?”
Adam shrugged. “Not any more than for killing me, I suppose.”
“What do you mean?” She narrowed her eyes.

Adam shrugged again, a nervous gesture.
“Kazuma was leeching him of his money. That’s what I’ve been working on too.” He winked. “Don’t tell, now.”
Anne was shocked.
“You’re a whore?”
“Madam!” Adam put a hand to his chest, theatrically affronted. “Far from it. I’m a thief.” He  corrected her, softly.
Anne took a couple moments to make sense of this.
“Hm,” she said finally. “Small step to murder.”
“Big step to murder,” Adam objected. “I’m as gentle as a lamb who wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Anne exhaled.
“Listen,” Adam said. “Ken really wants to find out who did this. You know? He’s more involved in it than either of us.”
“Why do you care?” Anne eyed him, wary.
“I’m not sure.” Adam reflected. “I think… I feel like showing him that I can be more than just a bit of bump in the night. More than just a crook.”

Anne sipped. “Do you love him?”
Adam had a short, hearty laugh.
“Ah, probably not. But I’m pretty sure I do like him, though. And for me, that’s saying a lot. I like him and I feel like not being a jerk.”

“What a radical transformation.”
“For me, honey, it sure is!” Adam objected. “Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf. Who knows.”
“And you’re bored.”
“Well,” Adam’s eyes sparkled, “there’s that too.”

She sighed.

“A toast, then,” Anne raised her glass. “To it not being one of us three.”

***

“It’s one of those three.”
Rob flipped through the room service menu and ordered a turkey club with fries for dinner.

“You sound convinced, sir,” Cindy said, when he was done.
Rob shrugged.
“Wakamoto, Kunitz, Reynolds. If it weren’t for that stupid underwear…”

“Your sympathies lie with miss Reynolds, inspector?”
“Of course not,” Kanahele said sternly. “I don’t hold sympathies during a murder investigation. The facts will reveal the culprit, and I am the very picture of neutrality until that is revealed.”

Cindy suppressed a small smile. She knew very well that Inspector Kanahele was much more intuitive a detective than he liked admitting. He planned things exhaustively, but in the end acted on his heart. But it worked, and he had a fantastic track record, so she never mentioned it. Let him believe what he wanted.

“So what do we do now, sir?”

Kanahele sighed, exhaustion finally catching up with him. He’d had less than three hours’ sleep that night.
“We dig deeper,” he said. “There’s a few things left on my list. Witness testimony gives us almost nothing for either murder. All three suspects have holes in their alibis which are potentially sufficient to commit not just one, but both murders. We can’t write anyone off yet.”
“But the clue in the underwear…”
“… is nothing more than that, a clue. Who knows how true it is. It could even have been planted on the victim after the fact, to incriminate Reynolds.”
Cindy began wondering if her superior was developing a crush.
“So?”
“So we let the testimonies ripen in our minds for a while and dive into the facts instead. Security footage, email and phone records, I want to make sure everybody’s story checks out.”
“I’ll see what clearance I can get from Mr. Oosterhout. I think he likes me,” Cindy grinned.
Rob scratched his eyelid.

“Staying here again tonight, sir?”
The inspector nodded.
“Hopefully no one gets killed this time.”

Cindy stood, a little apologetically.
“My aunt’s coming in for the holidays tonight, and she’s staying with me,” she said. “I need to be at home when she arrives. I’d like to stay and help longer, but…”
Rob opened his eyes, and gave her a smile.
“It’s Christmastime, sergeant. It is a time for family. I understand. Don’t worry about it.”
“Thank you, sir,” she beamed. “I’ll talk to Oosterhout on my way out.”

But he barely heard her. Something interesting had just started brewing in his mind.

- ONE MORE PART TO GO, I DIDN’T DO IT ON PURPOSE I SWEAR XD; IT’LL FINISH FOR SURE NEXT TIME! -