Sarah Woods Mystery Series (1-6) Boxed Set Page 28
I tried not to laugh. “Are you okay? I hope you’re not upset I decided to stay in Hawaii?”
After a long pause, he said, “It’s okay, Mom. You deserve a vacation.”
My heart melted. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
“But you are coming home eventually, right? You can’t leave me here alone with Dad forever.”
I laughed. I was so glad he was on my side. “Just five more days, I promise.”
“So what have you been doing out there all alone?”
“Just trying to take it easy.”
“Do you want to say hi to Dad?”
“Not really.”
“Okay. I should go to bed. See you in a few days, Mom.”
I kissed the phone, told him I loved him, and ended the call.
Chapter 16
My eyes popped open when I heard the buzzing. I lifted my head from the pillow to check my phone. There was a text message from Max, asking to meet him in the lobby as soon as I could.
I flung the cell on the bed and pushed myself up to a sitting position. The clock on the nightstand read 8:11am.
It took me less than ten minutes to get ready. I dressed in cropped jeans, a blue linen shirt, and a baseball cap to hide my bed head.
When I arrived in the lobby, Max was holding a cup of coffee in each hand. I immediately noticed the deep wrinkles on his forehead.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Max handed me one of the cups. “Carter wants us to meet him at the police station in Honolulu.”
“Police station? Why?”
“He didn’t want to explain on the phone. Just told us to hurry up and get there. I hope it’s not bad news about Toby.”
We drove in silence to the police station. I tried to sip coffee without spilling it all over me as he weaved in and out of slow moving vehicles. The traffic on Farrington Highway --- a two lane coastal road with countless traffic lights and potholes --- moved slower than molasses. The road eventually opened up to a four-lane highway. We could see Diamond Head off in the hazy distance, hovering over Waikiki like a protective God.
We found our way to HDP Headquarters and immediately spotted Carter. He was standing in front of the large rectangular building’s double glass doors, wearing a wrinkled t-shirt. The grey stubble on his chin made his face look pale.
Max pulled up to the curb as Carter made his way towards us. We got out of the jeep.
“What’s going on?” Max asked.
Carter ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Cunningham was found dead this morning.”
At first I thought this was another case of Carter’s warped sense of humor. But the genuine look of fear in his eyes made me realize it wasn’t a joke.
“How?” I asked, shaking.
“A neighbor found Cunningham face down in his pool and called nine-one-one.”
“He drowned?”
“There were no defensive wounds found on his body, and they didn’t find a murder weapon. The contusion on the back of his head and shoulders suggests he fell backwards, probably from the upper deck of his place onto the edge of the pool. Whether he was pushed or not is still a question. It’s not clear if drugs or alcohol were involved. The toxicology reports could take weeks. As it stands, they’re looking at this as an accidental death.”
“How did you find out?”
Carter rubbed his face with both hands. “Richard and I went back to the hotel after I talked to you guys last night. We continued to watch the surveillance video until midnight. At that point we figured Brenda was spending the night, so we got a few hours of sleep. When we checked the surveillance again around five forty-five, police officers were inside Cunningham’s house looking around.” Carter paused to take a deep breath. “When we reviewed the footage from earlier, it showed Cunningham going out the front door around four. At around four-thirty, Brenda also left. Neither one returned. We had no surveillance set up outside the house, so we don’t know what happened. I got a call from a detective in Honolulu around seven this morning. He says he got my number from Eric Fisher’s cell phone and asked me how I knew him.”
“That’s right,” I said. “Cunningham called you to book the massage appointment.”
“Yep. They called me into the station. I told them I knew Eric Fisher, and that he had no known relatives. There was no reason for them to question his identity, and since no one else claimed to know him, they asked me to identify his body.”
“So you did?” I asked.
Carter nodded. “The police questioned me for about an hour. I didn’t have much to say to them. In the end, I was able to get some information regarding the investigation of his death.”
“So, what about Brenda? Did the police talk to her, too?” I asked.
“She was gone before the police showed up,” Carter said. “And right now, nobody knows where she is.”
“What about the neighbor who called nine-one-one? Did he happen to see Brenda leaving?”
“According to his statement, no.”
“You don’t really believe it was an accident, do you? Why would Brenda have run off? She’s guilty of something, or she knows something. Have you tried to get in touch with her?”
“I called her number. It went straight to voicemail. Richard has already been to her apartment. She’s nowhere to be found. And I doubt the police will look too hard to find her.”
“We have evidence,” I said. “The surveillance footage. We can prove Brenda was at Cunningham’s last night, and that she left around the time he died.”
“We can’t use that, remember? It’s inadmissible because technically, we were breaking the law.”
“So, at this point, the police have no idea that Cunningham was involved in his son’s abduction?” I asked. “And they have no clue about the surveillance we planted in his house?”
Carter nodded. “Correct. There’s one thing that doesn’t quite add up, though. When the police searched Cunningham’s house, they found his cell phone. That’s how they tracked me down. But they didn’t find his laptop. We saw Brenda leave on the video. She didn’t take anything with her, so what happened to the laptop you saw in his bedroom?”
Max and I looked at each other, but neither one of us was able to venture a guess. I turned back to face Carter. “What do we do now?” I asked, exasperated.
“Well, Richard is probably on his way to the Sanborn’s to break the news about Cunningham. I expect to hear from him any minute now.”
“Oh my goodness,” I said as the realization hit me. “Jessica’s going to freak out.”
Carter ignored my comment. “Right now, I need you and Max to go talk to Cunningham’s neighbor. His name is Sal Hutchins. Pick his brain for anything concerning Brenda. Take the photos of Toby just in case.” Carter handed me an envelope from his briefcase. “While you’re talking to him, I’m going to try to get into Cunningham’s house to look for that laptop. There’s a good chance something on that computer could lead us to Toby.”
Chapter 17
The news about Cunningham’s death was staggering. I was having a difficult time trying to process this new reality.
“Do you think Brenda killed him?” I asked Max as we drove out of Honolulu and headed west on the freeway.
“It doesn’t make sense. They were having sex on his couch hours before he was found dead in his pool,” Max said. “I wish I had thought to set up a hidden camera outside his house.”
“How could you have known this would happen?”
“I couldn’t.”
An hour later, we arrived at the home of Sal Hutchins, Cunningham’s next door neighbor.
We pulled up behind a golf cart and exited the jeep. The house was a Mediterranean design, with white stucco walls and blue roof tiles. Neat rows of green and red bushes glistened from a recent watering as we made our way to the entrance.
Max rapped on the door several times. I glanced over my shoulder and caught a clear view of Cunningham’s pool. There didn’t appear to be
any blood in the water. I was thankful for that.
The door swung open and a short, pot-bellied man peered out through the screen door. His plaid shorts, striped polo shirt, and white cap suggested he might be on his way to play a round of golf.
“Mister Hutchins?” Max asked.
“Yes?”
“I’m Max Stevens, and this is Sarah Woods. We’re sorry to bother you. Would you have a few minutes to talk to us? It’s about your neighbor.” Max tilted his head towards Cunningham’s house.
Hutchins scratched his protruding belly. “I already spoke with the police earlier this morning.” His voice was an octave louder than it needed to be. I noticed a hearing aid in one ear.
“We’re not with the police,” Max said.
“Reporters?”
Max shook his head. “We’re trying to find a missing boy, and we think your neighbor, Duane Cunningham, was involved in his disappearance.”
“Guess I never got around to meeting him. What’d you say his name was?”
“Duane Cunningham.”
Hutchins looked through the screen door into Cunningham’s property. “The detective said his name was Eric something.”
Max nodded. “Eric Fisher was an alias.”
“Well,” Hutchins said, as his eyes widened, “I’ll be damned. Was he a fugitive or something?”
His question prompted me to pull out the photos of Toby. “This is Toby Cunningham, Duane’s son,” I said. “He was abducted eight months ago.”
Hutchins opened the screen door, walked out, and closed it behind him as if he were afraid to let a cat out, or something.
He studied the photos, holding them close to his face. “Sorry,” he said. “I haven’t seen this little guy.”
“Did you happen to notice a red Volkswagen bus parked over there when you called the police?” Max asked.
Hutchins arched his eyebrows, revealing a progression of fleshy wrinkles on his forehead. “A Volkswagen bus? Definitely not.”
“Were there any other cars in his driveway?”
His droopy jowls quivered as he shook his head.
Max pursed his lips and looked around, apparently stalling for time.
“Just out of curiosity, what prompted you to look over into Cunningham’s pool at such an early hour? Did you hear a noise?”
Hutchins lower lip jutted out. He sucked it back in. “I was leaving to play a round of golf,” he said, tilting his head toward the golf cart parked out front. “I like to get out early to beat the crowd. Anyway, that’s when I noticed him in the pool. He wasn’t moving. I moved in a little closer and I almost croaked. That’s when I called the police.”
Max chewed on the corner of his lip, held out his hand, and gave a curt nod. “We appreciate your time, Mr. Hutchins. Have a good day.”
I tore off a piece of paper from my notebook, jotted down my cell number, and handed it to him. “Please give us a call if you remember anything else that might be useful.”
“Will do.” Hutchins waddled off in the direction of his house.
Chapter 18
“Well, that was a waste of time,” Max said when we returned to the Jeep. “Why couldn’t Hutchins have been one of those nosy neighbors who had nothing better to do but sit outside and eavesdrop?”
“Sounds like you speak from experience,” I said.
He rolled his eyes. “I have some stories you wouldn’t believe, Sarah.”
There was still so much about Max I didn’t know. I wanted to hear all the details of his life. “I’m all ears,” I said.
Max smiled, started the car, and pulled out of the driveway. “First house I ever owned wasn’t in the best part of town. The guy living next to me used to sit out on his front porch constantly. He was one of those creepy dudes with intense eyes that never seemed to blink. I used to see him looking in my bedroom window from time to time. It really pissed me off. I thought for sure he was some kind of pervert. I flipped him off one day just to send a message.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Somehow I can’t picture you doing that. My image of you is shattered.”
“Anyways, a few weeks later something woke me in the middle of the night. I saw a shadow looming over me. Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, something hard crashed into my skull.”
Max’s jaw was doing that grinding thing again. I felt the hair on my arms stand at attention while I waited for him to continue.
“Next thing I knew there were paramedics and police officers hovering over me. One of the detectives told me there had been a break in, and that a witness had seen two young guys leaving my house. Come to find out, my creepy neighbor had seen the guys leaving and called the cops. Even gave a description of what they were wearing and what kind of car they drove. Within two hours, the police tracked them down and recovered my belongings.”
“Ha! Thank goodness for nosy neighbors,” I said.
“No kidding.” An impish smile spread across his face. “The following day I went next door to thank him. There he sat, rocking in his chair as usual. I told him I was grateful for what he did. We ended up talking for hours. He turned out to be a cool guy.”
I touched Max’s hand and smiled.
The temperature approached ninety degrees as we pulled up to the Sanborn’s house. I began thinking about Jessica, wondering if her father had decided to tell her about Brenda.
We entered the house and immediately spotted Richard on the lanai, shuffling through some papers. His black pompadour looked more like an afro due to the humidity. Not a good look for him.
He raised his head to look at us. “Hey, you two. How’d it go with Hutchins?”
“He didn’t have much to say,” Max replied. “We showed him the picture of Toby, but no luck.”
“Yeah, I figured.” Richard set the papers down and sighed. “Carter just called. He got inside Cunningham’s house through an unsecured window, but couldn’t find the laptop anywhere.”
Max pulled out a chair next to Richard, and motioned for me to sit. “How did Jessica take the news?”
“Not well at all.” Richard looked down at his hands. “She’s in her room and hasn’t come out since I told them this morning. Dr. Theo and O’Malley mentioned something about going to get a bottle of scotch down at the store.”
“It sounds like they’ll be doing some self-medicating this afternoon,” I said.
“Can’t blame them. Perhaps they’ll share,” Richard added.
Max motioned toward a stack of papers on the table. “What’s all that?”
“The complete file on the abduction. I’m trying to organize the folders. This one contains everything we’ve compiled on Brenda so far. Problem is, there’s nothing here I can use. She doesn’t even belong to any social media sites. You’d think a girl her age would be all over that.”
“Mind if I take a look?”
“Sure, be my guest.”
Max took a seat and got to work, scanning the contents of the file.
I reached over and picked up another file labeled Cassandra Perkins. “Who is she?” I asked Richard.
“She was Toby’s nanny.”
I opened the file to find mostly hand-scribbled notes. “Did you ever have the opportunity to talk to her?”
Richard nodded. “She was one of the first people I called after I was hired to look into the abduction.”
“I take it she wasn’t much help?”
“Not really. I got the impression she’d been harboring some guilt about what had happened, like she should have prevented it somehow. I got the feeling she loved Toby as if he were her own.”
“Not surprising, I guess. Jessica told me that the nanny was a better mother to Toby than she was.”
“In any case, Cassandra expressed some serious gratitude when I told her I was looking into the kidnapping. She must have thanked me a dozen times.”
“Did she have anything to say about Cunningham? Were there any warning signs that he might run off with the kid?”
“Do you still have her phone number?”
“It should be in the file. Why?”
I flipped through a few pages and found a number unlike any I had ever seen. “Where does she live?” I asked.
“Argentina. After Toby was kidnapped, the Sanborns had no reason to keep her on, so she was out of a job. Apparently, her husband works for an Argentinian Ambassador. He was constantly traveling back and forth between the two countries. Once she lost her job, they decided to move to Argentina permanently.”
I shrugged. “I wonder if I should call her.
“Do you have a hunch she knows something more?”
I closed the file and pushed it back to the center of the table. “Never mind. I thought I might ask her a few more questions about Cunningham, but it’s been eight months. I guess there’s no point in bothering her again.”
I looked over at Richard. His eyes were downcast. He didn’t seem interested in talking about the nanny any longer. I sensed something else was bothering him.
“Sarah, you’re a woman …” He paused as if he was trying to formulate the question in his mind.
“Yes, I am. Thanks for noticing,” I said.
He blushed. “Of course. I know you’re a woman. What I meant to say was I need a woman’s perspective on something.”
“Sure,” I said. “What is it?”
Richard chewed on a fingernail then cleared his throat. “Well, my wife knows why I’m here in Hawaii. She knows I’m working. And she also knows how important this case is to me. But for some reason, she’s got this attitude. It’s almost as if she thinks I’m screwing around on her. I’ve never cheated. I call her every day. Sometimes twice a day. I don’t get it. Any idea what’s going on in her head?”
I couldn’t help but smile at Richard’s droopy eyes. He reminded me of a little boy; a little boy with thick black sideburns. “I don’t know you’re wife,” I said, “but I can understand why she might have reason to be jealous.”