AT THE REEF AND PALM
They reached Kalakaua Avenue and swerving sharply to the right, Captain
Hallet stepped on the gas. Since the car was without a top, John Quincy
was getting an unrestricted view of this land that lay at his journey's
end. As a small boy squirming about on the hard pew in the First
Unitarian Church, he had heard much of Heaven, and his youthful
imagination had pictured it as something like this. A warm, rather
languid country, freshly painted in the gaudiest colors available.
Creamy white clouds wrapped the tops of the distant mountains, and their
slopes were bright with tropical foliage. John Quincy heard near at hand
the low monotone of breakers lapping the shore. Occasionally he caught a
glimpse of apple-green water and a dazzling white stretch of sand. "Oh,
Waikiki! Oh, scene of peace--" What was the rest of that poem his Aunt
Minerva had quoted in her last letter--the one in which she had
announced that she was staying on indefinitely. "And looking down from
tum-tum skies, the angels smile on Waikiki." Sentimental, but sentiment
was one of Hawaii's chief exports. One had only to look at the place to
understand and forgive.
John Quincy had not delayed for a hat, and the sun was beating down
fiercely on his brown head. Charlie Chan glanced at him.
"Humbly begging pardon," remarked the Chinaman, "would say it is
unadvisable to venture forth without headgear. Especially since you are
a malihini."
"A what?"
"The term carries no offense. Malihini--stranger, newcomer."
"Oh." John Quincy looked at him curiously. "Are you a malihini?"
"Not in the least," grinned Chan. "I am kamaaina--old-timer. Pursuing
the truth further, I have been twenty-five years in the Islands."
They passed a huge hotel, and presently John Quincy saw Diamond Head
standing an impressive guardian at the far end of that lovely curving
beach. A little farther along the captain drew up to the curb and the
four men alighted. On the other side of a dilapidated fence was a garden
that might have been Eden at its best.
Entering past a gate that hung sorrowfully on one hinge they walked up a
dirt path and in a moment a ramshackle old building came into view. They
were approaching it on an angle, and John Quincy saw that the greater
part of it extended out over the water. The tottering structure was of
two stories, with double-decked balconies on both sides and the rear. It
had rather an air about it; once, no doubt, it had been worthy to stand
in this setting. Flowering vines clambered over it in a friendly
endeavor to hide its imperfections from the world.
"Some day," announced Charlie Chan solemnly, "those rafters underneath
will disintegrate and the Reef and Palm Hotel will descend into the sea
with a most horrid gurgle."
As they drew nearer, it seemed to John Quincy that the Chinaman's
prophecy might come true at any moment. They paused at the foot of a
crumbling stair that led to the front door, and as they did so a man
emerged hurriedly from the Reef and Palm. His once white clothes were
yellowed, his face lined, his eyes tired and disillusioned. But about
him, as about the hotel, hung the suggestion of a distinguished past.
"Mr. Egan," said Captain Hallet promptly.
"Oh--how are you?" the man replied, with an accent that recalled to John
Quincy's mind his meeting with Captain Arthur Temple Cope.
"We want to talk to you," announced Hallet bruskly.
A shadow crossed Egan's face. "I'm frightfully sorry," he said, "but I
have a most important engagement, and I'm late as it is. Some other
time--"
"Now!" cut in Hallet. The word shot through the morning like a rocket.
He started up the steps.
"Impossible," said Egan. He did not raise his voice. "Nothing on earth
could keep me from the dock this morning--"
The captain of detectives seized his arm. "Come inside!" he ordered.
Egan's face flushed. "Take your hand off me, damn you! By what right--"
"You watch your step, Egan," advised Hallet angrily. "You know why I'm
here."
"I do not."
Hallet stared into the man's face. "Dan Winterslip was murdered last
night," he said.
Jim Egan removed his hat, and looked helplessly out toward Kalakaua
Avenue. "So I read in the morning paper," he replied. "What has his
death to do with me?"
"You were the last person to see him alive," Hallet answered. "Now quit
bluffing and come inside."
Egan cast one final baffled glance at the street, where a trolley bound
for the city three miles away was rattling swiftly by. Then he bowed his
head and led the way into the hotel.
They entered a huge, poorly furnished public room, deserted save for a
woman tourist writing post-cards at a table, and a shabby Japanese clerk
lolling behind the desk. "This way," Egan said, and they followed him
past the desk and into a small private office. Here all was confusion,
dusty piles of magazines and newspapers were everywhere, battered old
ledgers lay upon the floor. On the wall hung a portrait of Queen
Victoria; many pictures cut from the London illustrated weeklies were
tacked up haphazardly. Jennison spread a newspaper carefully over the
window-sill and sat down there. Egan cleared chairs for Hallet, Chan and
John Quincy, and himself took his place before an ancient roll-top desk.
"If you will be brief, Captain," he suggested, "I might still have
time--" He glanced at a clock above the desk.
"Forget that," advised Hallet sharply. His manner was considerably
different from that he employed in the house of a leading citizen like
Dan Winterslip. "Let's get to business." He turned to Chan. "Got your
book, Charlie?"
"Preparations are complete," replied Chan, his pencil poised.
"All right." Hallet drew his chair closer to the desk. "Now Egan, you
come through and come clean. I know that last night about seven-thirty
you called up Dan Winterslip and tried to slide out of an appointment
you had made with him. I know that he refused to let you off, and
insisted on seeing you at eleven. About that time you went to his
house. You and he had a rather excited talk. At one-twenty-five
Winterslip was found dead. Murdered, Egan! Now give me your end of it."
Jim Egan ran his fingers through his curly, close-cropped
hair--straw-colored once, but now mostly gray. "That's all quite true,"
he said. "Do--do you mind if I smoke?" He took out a silver case and
removed a cigarette. His hand trembled slightly as he applied the match.
"I did make an appointment with Winterslip for last night," he
continued. "During the course of the day I--changed my mind. When I
called up to tell him so, he insisted on seeing me. He urged me to come
at eleven, and I went."
"Who let you in?" Hallet asked.
"Winterslip was waiting in the garden when I came. We went inside--"
Hallet glanced at the cigarette in Egan's hand. "By the door leading
directly into the living-room?" he asked.
"No," said Egan. "By the big door at the front of the house. Winterslip
took me out on his lanai, and we had a bit of a chat regarding the--the
business that had brought me. About half an hour later, I came away.
When I left Winterslip was alive and well--in good spirits, too.
Smiling, as a matter of fact."
"By what door did you leave?"
"The front door--the one I'd entered by."
"I see." Hallet looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "You went back
later, perhaps."
"I did not," said Egan promptly. "I came directly here and went to bed."
"Who saw you?"
"No one. My clerk goes off duty at eleven. The hotel is open, but there
is no one in charge. My patronage is--not large."
"You came here at eleven-thirty and went to bed," Hallet said. "But no
one saw you. Tell me, were you well acquainted with Dan Winterslip?"
Egan shook his head. "In the twenty-three years I've been in Honolulu, I
had never spoken to him until I called him on the telephone yesterday
morning."
"Humph." Hallet leaned back in his chair and spoke in a more amiable
tone. "As a younger man, I believe you traveled a lot?"
"I drifted about a bit," Egan admitted. "I was just eighteen when I left
England--"
"At your family's suggestion," smiled the captain.
"What's that to you?" Egan flared.
"Where did you go?"
"Australia. I ranched it for a time--and later I worked in Melbourne."
"What doing?" persisted Hallet.
"In--in a bank."
"A bank, eh? And then--"
"The South Seas. Just--wandering about--I was restless--"
"Beach-combing, eh?"
Egan flushed. "I may have been on my uppers at times, but damn it--"
"Wait a minute," Hallet cut in. "What I want to know is--those years you
were drifting about--did you by any chance run into Dan Winterslip?"
"I--I might have."
"What sort of an answer is that! Yes or no?"
"Well, as a matter of fact, I did," Egan admitted. "Just once--in
Melbourne. But it was a quite unimportant meeting. So unimportant
Winterslip had completely forgotten it."
"But you hadn't. And yesterday morning, after twenty-three years'
silence between you, you called him on the telephone. On rather sudden
business."
"I did."
Hallet came closer. "All right, Egan. We've reached the important part
of your story. What was that business?"
A tense silence fell in the little office as they awaited Egan's answer.
The Englishman looked Hallet calmly in the eye. "I can't tell you that,"
he said.
Hallet's face reddened. "Oh, yes, you can. And you're going to."
"Never," answered Egan, without raising his voice.
The captain glared at him. "You don't seem to realize your position."
"I realize it perfectly."
"If you and I were alone--"
"I won't tell you under any circumstances, Hallet."
"Maybe you'll tell the prosecutor--"
"Look here," cried Egan wearily. "Why must I say it over and over? I'll
tell nobody my business with Winterslip. Nobody, understand!" He crushed
the half-smoked cigarette savagely down on to a tray at his side.
John Quincy saw Hallet nod to Chan. He saw the Chinaman's pudgy little
hand go out and seize the remnant of cigarette. A happy grin spread over
the Oriental's fat face. He handed the stub to his chief.
"Corsican brand!" he cried triumphantly.
"Ah, yes," said Hallet. "This your usual smoke?"
A startled look crossed Egan's tired face. "No, it's not," he said.
"It's a make that's not on sale in the Islands, I believe?"
"No, I fancy it isn't."
Captain Hallet held out his hand. "Give me your cigarette case, Egan."
The Englishman passed it over, and Hallet opened it. "Humph," he said.
"You've managed to get hold of a few, haven't you?"
"Yes. They were--given me."
"Is that so? Who gave them to you?"
Egan considered. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that, either," he said.
Hallet's eyes glittered angrily. "Let me give you a few facts," he
began. "You called on Dan Winterslip last night, you entered and left by
the front door, and you didn't go back. Yet just outside the door
leading directly into the living-room, we have found a partly smoked
cigarette of this unusual brand. Now will you tell me who gave you these
Corsicans?"
"No," said Egan, "I won't."
Hallet slipped the silver cigarette case into his pocket, and stood up.
"Very well," he remarked. "I've wasted all the time I intend to here.
The district court prosecutor will want to talk to you--"
"Of course," agreed Egan, "I'll come and see him--this afternoon--"
Hallet glared at him. "Quit kidding yourself and get your hat!"
Egan rose too. "Look here," he cried, "I don't like your manner. It's
true there are certain matters in connection with Winterslip I can't
discuss, and that's unfortunate. But surely you don't think I killed the
man. What motive would I have--"
Jennison rose quickly from his seat on the window-ledge and stepped
forward. "Hallet," he said, "there's something I ought to tell you. Two
or three years ago Dan Winterslip and I were walking along King Street,
and we passed Mr. Egan here. Winterslip nodded toward him. 'I'm afraid
of that man, Harry,' he said. I waited to hear more, but he didn't go
on, and he wasn't the sort of client one would prompt. 'I'm afraid of
that man, Harry.' Just that, and nothing further."
"It's enough," remarked Hallet grimly. "Egan, you're going with me."
Egan's eyes flashed. "Of course," he cried bitterly. "Of course I'm
going with you. You're all against me, the whole town is against me,
I've been sneered at and belittled for twenty years. Because I was poor.
An out-cast, my daughter humiliated, not good enough to associate with
these New England blue-bloods--these thin-lipped Puritans with a touch
of sun--"
At sound of that familiar phrase, John Quincy sat up. Where, where--oh,
yes, on the Oakland ferry--
"Never mind that," Hallet was saying. "I'll give you one last chance.
Will you tell me what I want to know?"
"I will not," cried Egan.
"All right. Then come along."
"Am I under arrest?" asked Egan.
"I didn't say that," replied Hallet, suddenly cautious. "The
investigation is young yet. You are withholding much needed information,
and I believe that after you've spent a few hours at the station, you'll
change your mind and talk. In fact, I'm sure of it. I haven't any
warrant, but your position will be a lot more dignified if you come
willingly without one."
Egan considered a moment. "I fancy you're right," he said. "I have
certain orders to give the servants, if you don't mind--"
Hallet nodded. "Make it snappy. Charlie will go with you."
Egan and the Chinaman disappeared. The captain, John Quincy and Jennison
went out and sat down in the public room. Five minutes passed, ten,
fifteen--
Jennison glanced at his watch. "See here, Hallet," he said. "The man's
making a monkey of you--"
Hallet reddened, and stood up. At that instant Egan and Chan came down
the big open stairway at one side of the room. Hallet went up to the
Englishman.
"Say, Egan--what are you doing? Playing for time?"
Egan smiled. "That's precisely what I'm doing," he replied. "My
daughter's coming in this morning on the _Matsonia_--the boat ought to
be at the dock now. She's been at school on the mainland, and I haven't
seen her for nine months. You've done me out of the pleasure of meeting
her, but in a few minutes--"
"Nothing doing," cried Hallet. "Now you get your hat. I'm pau."
Egan hesitated a moment, then slowly took his battered old straw hat
from the desk. The five men walked through the blooming garden toward
Hallet's car. As they emerged into the street, a taxi drew up to the
curb. Egan ran forward, and the girl John Quincy had last seen at the
gateway to San Francisco leaped out into the Englishman's arms.
"Dad--where were you?" she cried.
"Cary, darling," he said. "I was so frightfully sorry--I meant to be at
the dock but I was detained. How are you, my dear?"
"I'm fine, dad--but--where are you going?" She looked at Hallet; John
Quincy remained discreetly in the background.
"I've--I've a little business in the city, my dear," Egan said. "I'll
be home presently, I fancy. If--if I shouldn't be, I leave you in
charge."
"Why, dad--"
"Don't worry," he added pleadingly. "That's all I can say now, Cary.
Don't worry, my dear." He turned to Hallet. "Shall we go. Captain?"
The two policemen, Jennison and Egan entered the car. John Quincy
stepped forward. The girl's big perplexed eyes met his.
"You?" she cried.
"Coming, Mr. Winterslip?" inquired Hallet.
John Quincy smiled at the girl. "You were quite right," he said. "I
haven't needed that hat."
She looked up at him. "But you're not wearing any at all. That's hardly
wise--"
"Mr. Winterslip!" barked Hallet.
John Quincy turned. "Oh, pardon me, Captain," he said. "I forgot to
mention it, but I'm leaving you here. Good-by."
Hallet grunted and started his car. While the girl paid for her taxi out
of a tiny purse, John Quincy picked up her suit-case.
"This time," he said, "I insist on carrying it." They stepped through
the gateway into the garden that might have been Eden on one of its
better days. "You didn't tell me we might meet in Honolulu," the boy
remarked.
"I wasn't sure we would." She glanced at the shabby old hotel. "You see,
I'm not exactly a social favorite out here." John Quincy could think of
no reply, and they mounted the crumbling steps. The public room was
quite deserted. "And why _have_ we met?" the girl continued. "I'm
fearfully puzzled. What was dad's business with those men? One of them
was Captain Hallet--a policeman--"
John Quincy frowned. "I'm not so sure your father wants you to know."
"But I've got to know, that's obvious. Please tell me."
John Quincy relinquished the suit-case, and brought forward a chair. The
girl sat down.
"It's this way," he began. "My Cousin Dan was murdered in the night."
Her eyes were tragic. "Oh--poor Barbara!" she cried. That's right, he
mustn't forget Barbara. "But dad--oh, go on please--"
"Your father visited Cousin Dan last night at eleven, and he refuses to
say why. There are other things he refuses to tell."
She looked up at him, her eyes filled with sudden tears. "I was so happy
on the boat," she said. "I knew it couldn't last."
He sat down. "Nonsense. Everything will come out all right. Your father
is probably shielding some one--"
She nodded. "Of course. But if he's made up his mind not to talk, he
just simply won't talk. He's odd that way. They may keep him down there,
and I shall be all alone--"
"Not quite alone," John Quincy told her.
"No, no," she said. "I've warned you. We're not the sort the best people
care to know--"
"The more fools they," cut in the boy. "I'm John Quincy Winterslip, of
Boston. And you--"
"Carlota Maria Egan," she answered. "You see, my mother was half
Portuguese. The other half was Scotch-Irish--my father's English. This
is the melting pot out here, you know." She was silent for a moment. "My
mother was very beautiful," she added wistfully. "So they tell me--I
never knew."
John Quincy was touched. "I thought how beautiful she must have been,"
he said gently. "That day I met you on the ferry."
The girl dabbed at her eyes with an absurd little handkerchief, and
stood up. "Well," she remarked, "this is just another thing that has to
be faced. Another call for courage--I must meet it." She smiled. "The
lady manager of the Reef and Palm. Can I show you a room?"
"I say, it'll be a rather stiff job, won't it?" John Quincy rose too.
"Oh, I shan't mind. I've helped dad before. Only one thing troubles
me--bills and all that. I've no head for arithmetic."
"That's all right--I have," replied John Quincy. He stopped. Wasn't he
getting in a little deep?
"How wonderful," the girl said.
"Why, not at all," John Quincy protested. "It's my line, at home." Home!
Yes, he had a home, he recalled. "Bonds and interest and all that sort
of thing. I'll drop in later in the day to see how you're getting on."
He moved away in a mild panic. "I'd better be going now," he added.
"Of course." She followed him to the door. "You're altogether too kind.
Shall you be in Honolulu long?"
"That depends," John Quincy said. "I've made up my mind to one thing. I
shan't stir from here until this mystery about Cousin Dan is solved. And
I'm going to do everything in my power to help in solving it."
"I'm sure you're very clever, too," she told him.
He shook his head. "I wouldn't say that. But I intend to make the effort
of my life. I've got a lot of incentives for seeing this affair
through." Something else trembled on his tongue. Better not say it. Oh,
lord, he was saying it. "You're one of them," he added, and clattered
down the stairs.
"Do be careful," called the girl. "Those steps are even worse than they
were when I left. Just another thing to be repaired--some day--when our
ship comes in."
He left her smiling wistfully in the doorway and hurrying through the
garden, stepped out on Kalakaua Avenue. The blazing sun beat down on his
defenseless head. Gorgeous trees flaunted scarlet banners along his
path, tall cocoanut palms swayed above him at the touch of the friendly
trades, not far away rainbow-tinted waters lapped a snowy beach. A sweet
land--all of that.
Did he wish that Agatha Parker were there to see it with him? Pursuing
the truth further, as Charlie Chan would put it, he did not.