Surfing Detective 04 - Hanging Ten in Paris

tops, shorts, and trainers. Heather had long black hair, soft curves, and a fuller, more luxuriant figure than her friend’s. Kimberly, by contrast, was lean and small-breasted and pony-tailed. They told me they both worked at a boutique at Ala Moana Shopping Center, not far from their apartment on Pi‘ikoi Street.
    After a few pleasantries, I asked Heather: “Why did you ask Meighan to look in on Ryan? Why not just walk across the hall yourselves?”
    There was silence for a moment. Kim swung her ponytail around and gave Heather a look that said,
Say something!
    “I did,” Heather leaned toward me, her gaping top revealing more of her ample breasts than a newly-met man ought to see. “Kim and I both did,” she said. “But Ryan didn’t answer. So we went back to our room and called Meighan.”
    “Why not just open Ryan’s door? Hadn’t you done that before?”
    “Yeah, but this time it didn’t feel right.” Heather again. “We thought Ryan was with someone.”
    “Who? Not Marie. She was miles away.”
    “Meighan.” Kim finally chimed in.
    “Meighan?” I must have sounded surprised. Kim covered her mouth.
    Heather gave her a look and then to me said, “It’s no secret Meighan liked Ryan. When Marie left, Meighan kind of . . . well, made her move.”
    As my interview with the two friends progressed, I compared what they said with their statements in the police report, and also with the version of events already supplied by Professor Van and Meighan. It quickly became clear that Kim was the sidekick and Heather called the shots. All the time the latter was talking, something was bugging me. I’d gotten the same feeling listening to Meighan and the professor. While their statements were all uncannily consistent, something was being left out. What?
    I asked several more questions—with the same results. Finally, I said: “You can speak freely to me. I’m not the police. I’m just trying to help out Ryan’s mom and dad. And I’m not suggesting either of you did anything wrong.”
    Kim looked pale. Heather piped up: “We are speaking freely. We’ve told you everything.”
    “Mahalo,” I said. But my reply was hardly more sincere than hers. Heather and Kim had told me almost nothing. But from their evasions and omissions came a clearer message than they intended. “If you happen to think of anything else,” I handed both of them my card, “would you please call or email?”
    They nodded.
    I stood and turned toward my car, then turned back again and said, “Oh, one last thing. Do either of you know any reason why someone might want to harm Ryan?”
    The two friends looked startled. Predictably it was Heather who spoke. “Why would you ask such a question?”
    “Sorry, I have to.”
    “Then all I can say,” Heather responded, “is not really. Ryan was a super nice guy.”
    “So I’ve heard.”
    I walked back to my car wondering what these Paradise College students and their professor weren’t telling me.

eight

    The next day I got an email from Marie. She said in a P.S. she was in Stuttgart, Germany, and heading for Heidelberg.

    Dear Kai,

    It’s so sad about Ryan. I really miss him.
    Yes, the police report was correct. I was away from Paris when Ryan died. An officer interviewed me after I returned. I’m afraid I wasn’t very helpful because I hadn’t really talked much with Ryan since early February.
    I sent him an email then trying to explain about Pierre. I told Ryan he would always be a dear friend. And that I hoped he would understand. We didn’t talk much after that.
    I still feel terrible about what happened. He was such a sweet guy. Everybody liked him. I can’t think of anyone who didn’t.
    Please send my condolences to Ryan’s parents and let me know if you have more questions.

    Aloha, Marie

    I didn’t see the need, at that point, to question Marie further. A girl who’s broken a guy’s heart has little reason to wish him further harm. If she has a conscience, as Marie apparently had, she feels badly enough already. So unless Marie was an accomplished liar and unless the others were covering for her—highly unlikely—there wasn’t much reason to suspect her of anything other than the bad timing of Ryan turning up dead on her twenty-first birthday.

nine

    That afternoon I drove to the Outback Steakhouse in Hawai‘i Kai to interview Scooter. The restaurant was perched on Kalaniana‘ole Highway across from Maunalua Bay and flanked by the twin volcanic