A Hole in One Murder Page 4

  “Wow. This is more of a therapy session than lunch. I never really thought of it that way. The other half of it is that I use money I get from my dad’s businesses to bankroll all these things.”

  “Well, there are worse ways of remembering their lives and legacies, Melanie.”

  “All I have to do is find a plot of ground somewhere and start a nursery to come full circle. Without being tossed in a prison camp, that is.”

  When they got back to Gonzo’s, Detective Nakatani’s SUV was there. He waved but was busy poking through the building, aiming his flashlight here and there, jotting in his note pad.

  Trinh was also there waiting, her arms crossed over her chest. “Tell me again why you want to buy this old dump, Melanie?”

  “Good investment.”

  “Wouldn’t even make good firewood. Do you have a third council member lined up yet? Because I have better things to do than stand around in a parking lot of a condemned building on a day off.”

  Melanie scrolled through numbers in her phone looking for other county council members that might be available. “It’s not condemned.”

  “You’re right. Calling it condemned would be a compliment.”

  “What were you doing that was so important?” Melanie asked.

  “Scraping soot from the inside of my oven. So much for spending extra on an appliance that supposedly self cleans itself. If that makes sense. Who else is coming?” Trinh asked.

  “Any suggestions of who I can call?”

  “Try Ankeny. He’s probably spending the day hammering nails in something.”

  “He’s probably spending the day with his wife. They’re still trying to get pregnant.”

  “That’s what I meant. They have to take a break eventually.”

  “Speaking of hammering nails into each other, how are you and Harm?” Melanie asked. Harmon was Trinh’s ex-husband and occasional boyfriend. “I haven’t seen his car at the house lately.”

  “Back to friends with benefits, but no benefits, unfortunately.”

  Matt Ankeny’s phone was finally answered. “Matt! Melanie Kato. Am I interrupting anything?”

  “Mowing the lawn. I don’t know why I bought a small house with a big yard in the tropics. By the time I’m done mowing the lawn, it’s time to start all over again. What’s up?”

  With the phone on speaker so Trinh could listen, Melanie explained about the small building she wanted to have boarded up but needed a council measure passed that would allow it.

  “Just have a county inspector go and condemn it.”

  “See?” Trinh said. “I told you so.”

  “Except I want to buy the place and open a store of my own. Legitimately, of course.”

  “Of course. You just want me to agree to allow it to be boarded up to keep people out?”

  “It’s less a matter if you agree. I just need a third council member to vote. I already have Trinh’s vote in favor. To make the motion legit, I have to have a third member to cast a vote.”

  “Count me in as a yes. What kind of store?”

  “Water sports. That’s all I really understand. Hey, you know of any plots of land upcountry where you live that are for sale, cheap?”

  “Land? Cheap? On Maui?”

  “Never mind.” She thanked him for the time and ended the call. “So, you heard his vote, right, Trinh?”

  “I guess I’ll be the third nutty pea in the pod and vote yes. Hear what he said about mowing the lawn?”

  “What about it?”

  “That’s upcountry code for, you know.”

  “No, I don’t. All I know is you should go call Harm and get some overdue benefits. If you know what I mean.”

  Detective Nakatani had joined them. Similar in age to Melanie, he was dressed in his usual light-colored sport coat and khaki pants, with a dark shirt. There was also the usual bulge beneath his coat, belying his pistol. “What benefits?”

  “Nothing,” Melanie and Trinh said together.

  “What is it about women that chat about the juiciest stuff until a guy shows up, and then ‘it’s nothin’.” He tore a sheet of paper free from a large pad. “Here’s your copy of the police report. You can see where I indicated it has been vandalized and broken into, and used for illegal activities. From what I saw, the place should be condemned.”

  “See?” Trinh said.

  “Go home and scrape your oven. Maybe Harm can come by and help you,” Melanie said, waving goodbye to her friend.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to real police business, Mayor.”

  “One last thing. I’ve started advertising on the mainland for three police officers and another detective. Anything else you can think of?”

  “Two more crime scene techs would be nice. We have the money to pay all these new hires, if we find them?”

  “If I’m sneaky, I can find the money in the budget. But don’t tell anyone else that.”

  By then, it was two in the afternoon, and a crew was pulling into the parking lot in two pickups of plywood and tools. Duane had come with them.

  “This makes it official,” she said showing off the police report to the work crew. She stood back, watching as they got to work. She recognized most as employees of the hardware store Duane managed. “Hey, Zito, you didn’t have to come supervise.”

  “If I wasn’t here, I’d be home hammering nails there. Or mowing the lawn.”

  Melanie chuckled to herself. “There’s a lot of that going on today. Or cleaning ovens.”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind. Lai’s at work?”

  He nodded. “I had to come over here to pick her up anyway. This last time she got a ticket, she lost her license for three months.”

  “I thought she quit speeding?” Melanie asked.

  “Failure to signal for a turn, failure to come to a full and complete stop at a sign, and failure to do a few other things. I quit listening after a while. All I know is, I have to give her a ride to and from work every day for three months.”

  “But she’s worth it, right?”

  “Most of the time. She mentioned you the other day. She's waiting for you to come in to the salon.”

  “Tell her one of these days.”

  “Haven’t seen you at church lately.”

  “I was there on Christmas. That’ll have to be good enough until Easter. I have Dottie as a stand-in the rest of the time. Otherwise, Sunday mornings as reserved for ‘me time’. It’s nice having the house to myself, even just for a couple of hours.”

  “Golf match tomorrow, though,” Cassandra said, joining them. She had taken a walk through the old building while waiting.

  “Oh, yes. The visitor from Japan. How’d that go?” Duane asked.

  “I lost, respectfully. I get a second shot at him tomorrow, and I might not be so respectful with my putter.” She dug cash from her pocket that she had got from an ATM at lunch, enough to pay each of the men including a bonus, and handed it over to Duane. “You put the lumber on my tab?”

  “Not on the county account?” he asked.

  “Just bill me for it. It was my big idea. Tell them to use extra nails and screws to make it difficult for someone to get in. But I got to go, Zito. Say hi to Lailanie for me.” She turned back to him. “And if she says she wants to clean the oven, offer to help her!”

  Chapter Four

  Cassandra was at the house before the sun was up on Sunday morning, Melanie feeding the baby while waiting in the kitchen. “I suppose this isn’t early for you?”

  “I’ve already been out for a run, bathed this little guy, and had breakfast. I ran through the golf course and it looked like they were out grooming the bunker Oguchi had so much trouble with yesterday. Maybe they filled it a little or reworked the shape so it’ll be easier to hit out of. Hopefully he’ll stay out today. That was awful to watch, one swing after another until he tossed the ball out. Had it been me…sorry. Already too much caffeine and it’s not even light yet.”

 
“Only one up?” Cassandra asked, pouring a cup of coffee for herself.

  “Josh and Dottie other two won’t be up until the sun is coming through the windows. Thérèse could show up at any time.” She handed the baby to Cassandra. “Here. Protect the First Grandson, if that’s a thing.”

  “Not really, but my pleasure. Haven’t picked out a name yet?”

  “The list grows every day,” Melanie said, washing the dishes. “We’d call him Him, but that would make him a savior, or at least a prophet. I’m not sure how all that works. It would go to his head by the time he was in high school. Parting the sea, hitting rocks with sticks to make wine, speaking in tongues, conjuring up ghosts. We have enough of that around here already.”

  “Whatever that means,” Cassandra said. “You’re wearing that for the golf game today?”

  “Yeah.” Melanie tried adjusting the pleated skirt that Josh had nixed the day before as being too small. “Too much leg? Covers more than when I go surfing or take a swim at the community pool.”

  “You’ll be noticed by the other golfers. Not many women as tall and built like you in Japan.”

  “That’s the idea. I’m hoping to distract Takeda a little with the outfit. When he tossed down yesterday, it just made me want to wipe that little smirk off his face. In golf, I mean. Just by a stroke. I’ll take any advantage I can get, even if it’s dressing like this to distract him.”

  “I’m sure it’ll work. We should be on our way. Mustn’t keep the visiting dignitaries waiting.”

  Melanie returned her baby to his bassinet, but hated to leave him. Knowing she’d be home by the time they were getting home from church, there was nothing she could do but leave.

  “Okay, so, seriously, I don’t care what happens to Oguchi. But I plan on giving Takeda a run for his money today. I’ll be a good host and let him win, but it won’t be easy.”

  “And if he cheats?” Cassandra asked, pulling into the clubhouse parking lot.

  “Just smile at him to let him know I know. He’s on a plane to Washington DC in a couple of days. Until then, our local state senator is entertaining him. As far as I’m concerned, I’m done with Takeda and Oguchi at the end of the match. Surf’s supposed to be up this afternoon and I’m putting it to good use.”

  After changing into cleats in the locker room, they went to the shaded lanai at the back of the clubhouse to meet the rest of the foursome. The two agents that were secretly pretending to be hacks looked dyspeptic, while cabinet Minister Yoshi Takeda looked full of himself. There wasn’t much of a media presence, only the film crews from QBN and NHK World. They were busy fussing over equipment and checking batteries.

  Melanie gave a polite but simple bow to Takeda, greeting him first, and in Japanese. “Oguchi-san isn’t here yet?”

  “He could be anywhere.” Takeda checked his watch. “He went out late last night and that was the last I saw of him. If he’s not here in the next five minutes, we’ll play as a threesome.”

  While Melanie and Takeda chatted about how the course might be affected by the rain that fell early that morning, she noticed the two film crews negotiate something with the clubhouse manager, with Cassandra listening in. When the Secret Service agent dedicated to Melanie’s protection shrugged her shoulders and nodded in agreement, she knew something was up.

  “What was that all about?” Melanie asked Cassandra after taking her aside.

  “NHK and QBN want to come with us for the first nine holes. Some sort of human interest story.”

  “What? This is supposed to be a private match. I don’t mind a little public relations, but that was done yesterday.”

  “It’s okay with us,” Sawyer said. He was the other Secret Service agent that had played with them the day before, still masquerading as a hack golfer.

  “For all nine holes?” she asked the small QBN crew. “There’s nothing newsworthy about our game today. The Minister is here for just a couple of days for a little rest and relaxation before going on to Washington later in the week. That’s what you guys need to pay attention to. Not his golf game on Maui.”

  “Actually, this is more for a documentary we’re thinking of doing. The real mayors of America.”

  “Sorry to disappoint, but there won’t be anything interesting about filming me playing golf.”

  “You don’t mind if we tag along anyway?” the QBN narrator asked.

  Melanie shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  The clubhouse manager found someone that could fill in their foursome, in fact, the club pro, the same woman that had been giving Melanie golf lessons for the last few years. Her name was Colleen, well known for her perky smile and consistent play on the local LPGA tour circuit. She decided to be her own caddie for the day.

  “Should we call Oguchi?” Melanie asked, when seven o’clock rolled around, their tee time.

  “Never mind that idiot. He’s probably too hung over to play a decent round of golf. Not that he did yesterday.”

  “He beat me,” Melanie said, as the foursome and caddies went to the first tee.

  “Because you were polite enough to allow him to win. No need to be so polite with me, Mayor Kato. Just play a fair game and we’ll let the best player win.”

  “Fine with me.”

  Melanie teed up and sent the ball flying. The sky was just light enough to follow the arc of the ball in the air. It wasn’t as good of an opening shot as the day before, but it wasn’t in the rough. And the rough on many Hawaiian courses were lava fields.

  By the third hole, the match was turning into a social event, with the effervescent Colleen talking Takeda’s ear off while he drove the cart. That left one his bodyguards following along right behind in another golf cart. The other bodyguard seemed especially aloof that day, Melanie figuring because he had no interest in golf. He had been driving his golf cart alone, far off to one side and rarely on the paved path meant for carts. She thought at one point Takeda addressed him as Jiro, but she had never been introduced to any of Takeda’s bodyguards on either day. The Japanese NHK film crew followed after Takeda and Colleen, while the QBN crew stayed close to Melanie and Cassandra’s cart, filming periodically, and asking questions about life and mayorship at one of America’s most popular vacation destinations.

  “Looks like your ploy of dressing in golf’s version of the mini skirt isn’t working, Melanie,” Cassandra said as they drove along the fairway path. “It seems impossible, but Colleen’s skirt is even smaller and tighter than yours. She needs to be careful bending over to take the ball out of the cup after knocking it in.”

  “Oh well. I’ll just have to beat Takeda fair and square. Your buddies from the Honolulu office seem to have noticed, though.”

  “I think those camera crews noticed, also.”

  “Hopefully, they’ll be kind and do some editing,” Melanie said. “I doubt any of this will ever be televised. I can’t think of anything more boring than watching a group of golf hacks on TV pretending they’re practicing diplomacy.”

  Melanie dropped one stroke behind Takeda on each of the first three holes, two behind Colleen, and staying even with the other player, the Secret Service agent named Sawyer. It was dawning on her then that they might’ve been there as much for his protection as hers, even though he still had his four bodyguards not far away every step of the way. Things started to come unraveled, though, at the fourth tee.

  First to tee off, Takeda drove into the rough, the ball bouncing crazily in the craggy lava. He shifted from one foot to the other uneasily while waiting for the others to tee off. When the parade of golf carts started up again, he lit a cigarette, Colleen waving her hand at the smoke. Even two carts back, Melanie could smell the tobacco as they rode through the breeze to where their balls waited.

  Not even bothering to look for his ball in the lava, Takeda took a drop at the edge of the fairway, which was more of a toss behind his back, but Melanie said nothing. It did give her the chance to pick up two strokes when she drove onto the green for the first
time ever on that hole.

  At the fifth tee, Takeda drove his ball into the ocean. It was the same hole as the day before, when Oguchi had so much trouble in the deep bunker on the opposite side of the fairway. Without asking for a Mulligan, Takeda teed up another ball and sent it flying straight down the center of the fairway. Both film crews caught every moment of it.

  It was Coleen’s turn next, the golf pro. When she hit, it sliced slightly. Sure enough, it landed in the same bunker as Oguchi's ball had the day before.

  “Been a while since I’ve missed the fairway,” she said.

  “I’m the one usually in that bunker,” Melanie said. “But it rained last night and I saw someone grooming the sand early this morning. You’ll have solid footing and the ball shouldn’t have sunk too much.”

  “They were grooming after the rain? That’s odd.”

  “I don’t know anything about golf course maintenance. Don’t they do all that in the middle of the night?” Melanie asked.

  “Depends on the weather. I doubt they rack sand in the rain, though.”

  “Yes, the rain has changed the course since yesterday,” Takeda said. It almost seemed as though he had been eavesdropping and was trying to put an end to the conversation. “Shall we continue our match?”

  They watched as Sawyer, the other player, teed off. It went straight but not far. He called it a lay-up, but there was nothing to hit over or around there. For a Secret Service agent meant to be offering protection, he was taking the friendly game too seriously. He also wasn’t playing nearly as well as the day before, maybe because he was putting more effort into hamming it up for the TV cameras than into his game. Melanie knew for the most part, they hadn’t been filming him.

  Melanie teed off last, putting her ball not far from the ocean, barely on the edge of the fairway. Watching as waves swept in and crashed over the top edge of the lava bluff, she knew she was going to get wet when the time came for her second swing. She forced a polite smile to the QBN camera, and offered a bland, generic explanation about the importance of proper club selection.