Murder in Honolulu: A Skye Delaney Mystery by R. Barri Flowers

us.
    "I guess people change," I said resentfully,
not sure whom the resentment should be directed toward. Truth be
told, I was the one who had changed more than Carter. Yet he
clearly seemed to be in the middle of some major turmoil in his
life—before it ended.
    Natsuko chose this well-timed moment to
resurface. "I have an exam in the morning I need to prepare for,"
she advised me, practically squeezing between us to get out the
door. She eyed me with a good-luck-you'll-probably-need-it look,
and said: "I'll see you next week, Skye—"
    "Mahalo for coming to help," I told her.
    She smiled. "No problem. I can always use
the extra money." Then Natsuko added: "If you need someone to talk
to..."
    "I have your number," I finished for her,
smiling appreciatively.
    As soon as she left, Darlene said unevenly:
"If this is a bad time..."
    I gave my uninvited guest a sarcastic look.
"I wonder what gives you that impression."
    Her mouth became a straight line. "Look, I
really didn't want to come here to—"
    "Then why did you?" I felt I was entitled to
ask.
    Our eyes met. "It seemed like it was time
for us to meet," she uttered, licking the gloss on her lips, "under
the circumstances. I'm guessing if I hadn't come to see you, it was
only a matter of time before you showed up at my door."
    The lady was slick , I thought, and
obviously brighter than I'd made her out to be. Made me wonder just
what she was up to. Did she come to gloat over stealing Carter,
several years too late? Or to solicit sympathy from someone who
could relate to her loss?
    I gave her the benefit of the doubt and
decided to play along for now. "You're right, we were going to have
to cross paths sooner or later," I said coolly. "Now is probably as
good a time as any."
    She took that as her invitation to come in
and it was.
    In the foyer, Darlene flashed me what looked
like a practiced smile and put out a perfectly manicured hand.
"Carter has told me so much about you," she gushed, "I feel as
though we've already met."
    We had, in a roundabout way, but I wasn't
ready to show my hand just yet.
    "So do I," I hummed.
    I shook her hand. It felt moist, and I
wondered if it was from the heat or nervousness beneath her cool
exterior. It occurred to me that drug addicts were prone to
perspiring while in need of a fix.
    We stood there staring at each other in
silence for a few moments of where-do-we-go-from-here before I
broke the ice. "Can I get you something to drink?" I asked her.
"I've got beer, wine, papaya juice, coffee, tea..."
    She shrugged. "I'll have what you're
having."
    Two glasses of papaya juice coming up, I
thought. I went into the kitchen, half-expecting her to follow. She
did not. At the last moment, I had a change of heart and poured
some red wine into two goblets.
    I found Darlene in the living room, which
was the last room Natsuko and I had worked on. It was presentable,
but there was still the distinct smell of death in the air, as
Carter's corpse had passed through here on its way to the morgue.
We would both have to deal with it in our own way.
    Darlene seemed fascinated by my ceiling fan,
as though it were spewing out air crookedly or something.
    "Your wine," I said, startling her.
    She took the glass and sat on the sofa. I
joined her.
    She met my eyes and asked bluntly: "Why did
Carter choose to kill himself in your tub? I mean, couldn't he have
chosen a more dignified way to commit suicide?"
    I wondered why she was so sure he had taken
his own life. Granted, the tide seemed to be leaning in that
direction, but it was almost as if Darlene knew more than she had
apparently let on to the police.
    I sipped my wine. "The exact cause of
Carter's death is still under investigation."
    She gave me a doubtful gaze. "Something
tells me you don't believe he killed himself."
    "It doesn't really matter what I believe," I
told her warily. "What makes you think he killed himself, other
than what you've read? Was Carter suicidal?"
    Darlene hesitated. "He was a