Birds in Paradise

Part 7

When I fled Mamma Jo's, I had planned to leave and never return. It would be easier that way. I'd never have to look Pete in the eye again...never have to discuss what had happened last night. I could set up shop in some other hotel. Maybe even be able to work out another deal where I could work on the staff instead of paying rent. Sure it would be tough, but I still had the wad of cash Pete had given me and if I pounded the pavement, I could probably win a few paying clients for my private investigator service by the end of the week. No more Ms. Nice Girl. All new clients would have to be able to pay. Up front.

Which brought me back to the missing Tina. Anna, her sister, had no way to pay me, but I couldn't give up on either of them. Even though all my efforts had so far led to dead ends, I couldn't help feel that I was getting close to uncovering the truth. Go ahead. Call me an eternal optimist. Delusional, even. I don't mind. My gut was humming like it always did right before I stumbled on some important clue. I slapped my cheeks. I needed to be alert and ready for anything. Clues rarely dropped from the sky. A person could run in circles in a forest for days and never find her way out. It took careful observation and planning to find whatever was out there waiting to be found.

I sat down on a bench and gazed out over the bright blue ocean. A breeze played in the palms all around me while dolphins danced in the waves. Seeing them, I relaxed and started to sort through what I'd learned so far.

Four women missing. All prostitutes. All young. All new. The prostitutes on the street were scared. And business was slow. The police were tightening their fist and, according to the women I'd talked to, were arresting dozens a night.

Add to that, Mr. Fu's strange behavior. He'd refused to see me. Why? My instincts prickling, I couldn't help but think that there had to be a connection. But what?

"You look as if you haven't slept in a week," a friendly voice said, and pushed a cup of coffee into my hand.

"Hello Brandi," I said, as the bleached blonde settled down on the bench beside me and lit a cigarette. "My soul doesn't need saving, at least not this morning."

Brandi laughed. It was a deep, throaty sound. Sexy. I could see why she'd been popular among her clients. "I assure you that you're wrong. Your soul is crying out for someone to find you. Unlike the girls peddling their bodies, you're much more complex and troubled."

"Wow, Brandi, you can see all that just by looking at me?" I forced a bitter laugh. She was getting too personal. And after what happened between Pete and me this morning, I wasn't feeling strong enough to do any deep soul-searching. So I struck out at her instead. "No wonder you spent more time on your back than walking the streets."

"I've been watching you for years now. I know you've been struggling." She flicked away some ashes before patting my leg. "But you're a good girl, so I won't give you a sermon."

"Thanks." I sipped the coffee she'd handed me. It was rich and filled with flavors. "Kona coffee," I said, impressed that she'd spend her money on me.

"Only the best," she said as she stared out over the ocean. "It's beautiful here. Paradise. People come from all over the world with high expectations, don't they?"

I nodded. I'd stayed in Oahu, despite my empty pockets, because I'd fallen in love with the land, the people, and their relaxed pace. Both my parents were overachievers. Type A plus-plus personalities with a shot of espresso added into the mix. They strove to be the best at everything. And since I was their daughter, I was expected to be the best by default. Between the soccer, the girl scouts, the softball, the basketball, the knitting, the theater, the swim team, the debate team, piano lessons, and academic perfection—my childhood had been exhausting.

But my childhood had taught me one thing—never to give up.

"What do you think is happening to these women, Brandi?"

She shrugged and tightened her lips. "I hate to think about it. They're lost souls, each one of them."

"Do you think they're alive?"

Brandi shrugged again.

"I visited Mr. Fu yesterday," I said, trying to learn something, anything new. "He refused to see me. Have you heard anything about him lately?"

She chewed on her bottom lip.

"What?" I pressed.

"I—I don't know." She was lying of course. And I needed to know what she knew. It could be important. Even if it wasn't important, I still needed to know. Or else I'd keep thinking about it, wondering about it, and I'd be distracted from finding the missing women.

"Just between you and me, Brandi. You know I can be trusted with a secret."

"It's nothing," she said and waved her hand in the air. "Some of the girls say he's been acting strangely, that's all."

"How so?"

She leaned forward and whispered, "He's been interviewing some of the new ones."

"For what?"

"Who knows? He hasn't been able to enjoy a woman for several years now. I was one of his last. And even back then nothing happened."

"Did he interview the missing girls?"

"I don't know." She drew a quick breath. "I'm sure it's not related."

"I'm sure you're right, but to be on the safe side, I'd like to talk to one of the girls he's interviewed lately. Can you give me a name?"

"No," she said too quickly.

"Come on, Brandi. I won't make trouble for you. I'll be subtle."

"No one is supposed to talk about the interviews. I shouldn't know about them, and neither should you. The girls could get into trouble if Mr. Fu found out that one of them was talking when she should be keeping her mouth shut. And you don't want to cross Mr. Fu."

I'd always assumed that Mr. Fu's reputation was far worse than what everyone said. Fear gave him power, and I'd witnessed firsthand his compassion. He wasn't a violent man.

But what if he was behind the kidnappings?

"This is important, Brandi. I need a name."

She shook her head.

"Those women could die," I pressed. "They might already be dead. We need to stop whoever's taking them."

Brandi rose. She looked nervous. "Find Sally Porter. She might talk."