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

and Skye Delaney. He
imagined that Carter would love this. His ex and his widow sharing
bedroom stories and other dirt on the former prosecutor,
businessman, and royal screw up. If either woman only knew the half
of it.
    He could almost hear them pointing their
damned fingers at each other threateningly. "Carter killed
himself because of you," he said mimicking Darlene. Then he
responded as Skye: "The hell he did. He killed himself because
he couldn't bear knowing that his wife was a damned whore and a
drug addict . "
    A brawl could ensue. He'd put his money
squarely behind Skye, who was definitely fitter and just plain
tougher when push came to shove.
    Yes, Skye Delaney was definitely his type of
woman. He was glad he had finally gotten to meet her—kind of. The
problem was she didn't know it as such. And he planned to keep it
that way until it was time for them to meet formally.
    Darlene came out the front door. He couldn't
tell if she was pissed or satisfied that she'd covered her ass. She
got into that red car that Carter had given her, started it, and,
just like the housekeeper, zoomed off to a destination unknown.
That didn't mean he couldn't hazard a guess as to where she was
headed. He'd bet it was to see that asshole lawyer she thought was
her secret lover boy.
    Secrets are made to be exposed , he
thought.
    He pondered that for a moment of glee, and
then noted it was Skye's turn to emerge from the house. He quickly
ducked behind a tree. It wouldn't be smart if she caught him
snooping around. There might be questions.
    Then more questions.
    And he wasn't about to do any talking. Not
yet anyway.
    He waited out of sight until he heard her
car drive off. For a moment, he considered entering the premises
while the lady and her dog were away. Then he decided not to press
his luck.
    Not like Carter Delaney had pressed his
luck. Until he ran out of it...
    He made his way through more palm trees on
the dead-end street until he arrived at the next street where his
car awaited.
     

 
    CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
     
    Murder was the Medical Examiner's official
conclusion as the cause of Carter Delaney's death. Ridge stood
there with his mouth agape in the examining room where Carter's
remains lay on a table in front of us. In spite of being repulsed
by the idea that the discolored corpse in front of me was once my
husband, I felt somewhat relieved that he hadn't taken the easy way
out by committing suicide. He had been the victim of foul play, but
it was still a hard pill to swallow.
    Dr. R. Mitsuo Isagawa was the Chief Medical
Examiner for the City and County of Honolulu. The rather frail,
black-haired man in his early fifties had personally conducted the
autopsy. Because the decedent happened to be a former lawyer for
the Department of the Prosecuting Attorney and one of the city's
most prominent businessmen, there could be no question as to how he
died or who determined such cause.
    Mitsuo had probably seen just about every
type of death there was. He gave me a fatherly look with irregular
furrows lining his brow. As a cop, I had spent more than my share
of time listening with difficulty to the results of autopsies he
had performed. This time would undoubtedly be the hardest.
    "Are you sure you want to hear this, Skye?"
Mitsuo asked in a gravelly voice, glancing at the body, "And see
Carter like this—?"
    I cleared my throat and said with
determination: "I'm a big girl, Mitsuo. I have to know how Carter
died, no matter how hard it is to listen to."
    The three of us exchanged looks before Ridge
eased his fingers between mine, and Mitsuo said: "Carter died from
neck compression..."
    "So he didn't drown then?" Ridge asked.
    "No," Mitsuo said flatly. "He was already
dead before his head hit the water—" He looked me in the eye and
continued: "Carter's neck was crushed while he was in a horizontal
position—likely on a hardwood floor, judging by the scratches and
dust particles found on his body. I'd say someone who was very
strong used