As I headed back into the main room, Regan and my mother appeared in the rear doorway. Each carried two large carafes of coffee, one per hand. I eased my way around two senior citizens, who debated whether their dentures could handle the jawbreaker-sized chocolate- covered macadamia nuts. As I approached my mother, I reached out to grab one of the containers from her.
“Thanks, honey. Those pots are heavy when they’re full.”
Lee appeared by my side and offered to carry one of Regan’s containers. It was reassuring to see the police in Hawaii were as kind and helpful as everyone else I’d encountered on the island. Whether it was due to the tranquil atmosphere, or lack of crime, it was a refreshing change from the overly suspicious cops I was more accustomed to in California.
We set our carafes on the coffee counter. Regan lined them up in the proper order to match the beans on display. “I better get to the register and attend to all of these customers.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” Detective Lee’s face remained impassive as he reached under the back of his aloha shirt and pulled out something round and silver.
“Regan Bingham, you’re under arrest for the murder of Keiki––”
Chapter 16
Just when you think you can trust a cop, they go and arrest one of your relatives.
The next few minutes were more chaotic than Times Square on New Year’s Eve. One would think the presence of a police officer reading Miranda rights to a Koffee Land employee would send the tourists streaking back to their bus, but a pressing need for a Donkey Ball snack seemed to outweigh good manners. A few of the senior citizens refused to leave until someone rang up their orders.
I was ready to grab their walkers and thump them on their fluffy white heads, but help finally arrived. Yaku discovered Tiffany hiding behind a large burlap sack of coffee beans in the back room. She’d worried the police had come to grill her about one of her brothers, known for his expert pakalolo farming skills. When she discovered the authorities were more concerned with murder than marijuana, she ventured out to assist the customers.
Detective Lee led Regan out the door and down the sidewalk. I followed them, still in disbelief.
“Let me get Regan’s boss,” I said. “Maybe he can intervene.”
Lee held up his palm, the tips of his fingers almost touching my nose. “Please, let us do our job.”
“But––” The roar of a car engine caught my attention. I watched a white Mercedes convertible peel away.
Regan grew even paler. She attempted to lift her arm, but the handcuffs restricted any movement.
“Do you know who was in that car?” I asked her.
Regan’s reply was barely audible. “Ritz.”
Hmm. You’d think the owner would be concerned about the arrest of an employee. Didn’t he see his controller being led away in handcuffs?
Brian grumbled and attempted to throw his legal weight around, but an El Dorado County Assistant District Attorney was weightless in this state. Lee said Regan could contact her husband once they’d completed her processing at the Kona station.
The officers were gentle, but firm, as they led Regan to their car. Tears poured down her cheeks as she bent over and eased into the backseat of the SUV. Liz and I waved at her, sympathetic tears streaming down our faces. My mother was as white as the pearl earrings dangling from her ear lobes, and I worried she might collapse from the strain.
I put my arm around her waist. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I’m fine. But that poor child. Why would they take Regan away?”
I turned to Brian. “Did Lee say anything about their reason for arresting her?”
“He said they had new evidence, but they weren’t willing to share it with me. Have you talked to your brother? He needs to hire a criminal defense attorney for her.”
I dug into my purse, grabbed my phone and speed-dialed Dave. He picked it up on the second ring. “Laurel, finally. Did you get my message?”
“Sorry, I saw you called, but––” I stopped as Dave interrupted me.
“I have good news,” he said, “well, news that made me feel better.”
Huh? What was Dave talking about? I was beginning to think that after so many years of living on the island, the Vog, Hawaii’s volcanic version of smog, had destroyed some of his brain cells.
“Remember I was supposed to meet with the insurance inspector today? One of the detectives came by around eleven to remove the crime scene tape so the place would be accessible. I’ve been tearing myself up thinking it was my fault Keiki fell over the wall. The detective said the autopsy report showed it definitely wasn’t an accident.”