Detective Biff
Thomas Brewster read the startling story hurriedly. Biff read along with
him. The story was sketchy. There were few details. Dr. Weber had been
scheduled to open the first session of the mining engineers’ conference
the previous afternoon. The meeting had started, but Dr. Weber failed to
appear. When the meeting ended, and Dr. Weber was still missing, the
police were notified.
“Do you know anything about this, Hank?” Mr. Brewster asked Hanale
Mahenili. “Hanale” was the Hawaiian form of the proper name, “Henry.”
Among his business associates, Mr. Mahenili liked to be called Hank. His
Hawaiian friends called him Hanale.
“Yes, my friend, I do,” Mr. Mahenili replied. “It is most sad, most
frightening. In fact, I was the one who discovered his disappearance.”
“When and how?” Mr. Brewster’s voice showed his concern.
“Yesterday afternoon, at the opening of the conference.”
Tom Brewster turned to his wife. “Martha, why don’t you take Ted and
Monica over to that bench and sit down? We’ll only be a minute. Biff,
you stay with me. I want you to know what’s going on. Sorry, Hank, but I
didn’t want my wife alarmed. Please continue.”
Biff felt highly pleased that his father wanted him in on whatever was
happening.
“Well, Tom, when Johann failed to appear at his place at the speakers’
table, I thought at first he might have been detained, perhaps held up
by traffic. Or that he might have been napping after lunch, and had
overslept. He’s an old man, you know. And not too strong.”
“Yes. I know. We’ve all been worried about him. He still tries to do too
much for a man his age.”
“I waited about fifteen minutes,” Hanale Mahenili continued. “Then I
left the head table to go to his hotel. He’s been staying at the Royal
Poinciana. On my way there, my fears that he had become ill increased.”
Mr. Mahenili paused, as if ordering his thoughts.
“Yes, yes. Go on.”
“At the hotel, I rang his room. There was no answer. I went to the desk,
and they told me they believed the doctor was still in his room. He
hadn’t left his key at the desk, which was his habit every time he left
the room.”
“I’ll bet you were really worried then,” Biff said.
“I certainly was, young man. I called for the manager, and we went up to
Johann’s room. The manager had a pass key, and, after knocking, we
entered his suite.”
“And no Johann Weber,” Mr. Brewster said.
“That’s right, Tom. He has a two-room suite. He wasn’t in either room.”
“Was there any evidence that the room had been searched?”
Mr. Mahenili shook his head. “It was hard to tell. Papers on his desk
were in a disordered mess. Two drawers in his bureau were pulled out,
with clothing messed up, and a few things strewn on the door. But you
know how careless Johann was. He was never one for neatness and order.”
“But it could have been someone else who had searched the desk, and
pulled out the drawers,” Mr. Brewster said.
“Yes, it could. There was no way of telling definitely.”
“Sir,” Biff said. “Were you able to get any idea of when he had last
been in his room?”
“No, Biff. We weren’t. I was coming to that. We questioned the elevator
operators and the desk clerks. Both night and day clerks. None of them
could remember when they had last seen the doctor.”
Biff’s brows were knitted in questioning thought. “Sir, I’d like to make
a suggestion, or, rather, ask you this. Do you know if Dr. Weber usually
had his breakfast in his room?”
“Why, the idea never occurred to us.”
“Good thinking, son,” Mr. Brewster said.
“And were the maids asked if his bed had been slept in the night
before?”
Henry Mahenili gave a shrug of helplessness. “I’m afraid, young man,
that you’re a far better detective than I am. No, the maids weren’t
questioned.”
“Well, then, Dad—”
Thomas Brewster interrupted his son. “I’m right with you, Biff. Our
first stop in Honolulu had better be the Royal Poinciana Hotel.”
“My car’s right outside. Your luggage should be off the plane by now,”
Mr. Mahenili said. “The hotel’s on the beach—Waikiki Beach. I’m sure
your family will enjoy seeing the most famous beach in the United
States.”
“Gee, that’s great,” Biff said. “Ted and Monica will flip. And so will
I. After all, we’re tourists.”
“All right, let’s go.”
Luggage and family were assembled and placed in Mr. Mahenili’s open
convertible. The Brewsters were in for a thrilling ride.
Leaving the airport, Mr. Mahenili turned onto a dual thoroughfare called
Ala Moana. They crossed the Ala Wai Canal nearing the famous Waikiki
Beach section.
“On the right,” Mr. Mahenili pointed out, “is the Kapaiama Basin.”
Yachts of every color and description lay at anchor in the beautiful
harbor. Some were moving out into the main harbor of Honolulu.
Everywhere the Brewster family looked, they saw flowers. One street
would be lined with trees bearing white flowers. The next street would
be one of red flowering trees, or yellow, or deep blue.
The car turned off Ala Moana onto Kalia Road. They saw the gleaming dome
of the Hawaiian Village. To their right now, they could see the
beautiful hotels standing like sentinels guarding the beach. Then Mr.
Mahenili turned the car into the spacious Garden-of-Eden-like grounds of
the Royal Poinciana Hotel. Mrs. Brewster and the twins walked down to
the beach. Biff, his father, and their Hawaiian friend went into the
hotel.
The manager of the Royal Poinciana received the two men and Biff in his
office. Biff looked at his father.
“Go ahead, Biff. This was your idea.”
“Sir,” Biff said, addressing the manager, “I wonder if you could find
out if Dr. Weber usually had his breakfast in his room since he’s been
here?”
“Easily, young man. Won’t take a minute.” The manager picked up the
telephone on his desk.
“And would you ask if he had breakfast there yesterday morning?”
The manager nodded his head and spoke into the phone. He asked both
questions Biff had suggested, nodded his head, and replaced the phone on
its cradle.
“No real help there. Sometimes he called for breakfast service;
sometimes not. Yesterday morning, room service reports, there was no
call from Suite 210-11—that’s where Dr. Weber was staying.”
“Well, one more thing.” Biff continued his role of detective. “Would the
same maids who were on duty yesterday be on duty this morning?”
“I’ll check that with the floor supervisor. I think I know what your
question will be—had Dr. Weber’s bed been slept in?”
Biff smiled. “That’s right, sir.”
Again the manager placed his call and asked his questions.
“The floor supervisor will call back as soon as she’s checked. Only take
a minute or two. While we wait, let me extend my welcome to Hawaii to
you. I regret that this most unfortunate situation has come about. But
I’m sure Dr. Weber will be found.”
“Thank you,” Thomas Brewster said. “I hope you are right.”
The telephone rang.
“Yes. Yes. I see. Thank you.” The manager replaced the phone. “The
supervisor says the maid who takes care of that suite said Dr. Weber’s
bed had not been slept in Monday night.”
Biff looked from his father to Mr. Mahenili. Nothing was said for a
moment. Then Mr. Brewster spoke.
“Any more questions, Biff?”
“No, sir. Can’t think of anything else, Dad. Not now.”
“Well, we have established the fact that Dr. Weber must have disappeared
sometime on Monday,” Mr. Brewster said.
“That was the day he telephoned you, wasn’t it, Dad?” Biff asked.
“Yes. I talked to him late in the afternoon. Here, that would have been
around noon, Hawaii time. I know he was calling from this hotel. So, we
can pinpoint his disappearance from sometime between noon Monday, to
early Monday night. The doctor always retired early.”
“Thank you very much for your cooperation, Mr. Pierson,” Mr. Mahenili
said. With Biff and his father, he arose and left the manager’s office.
They walked out into the bright sunlight and across a broad patio,
hedged in by flame-colored flowers. The beach of Waikiki was right in
front of them. As they walked toward it to find Mrs. Brewster and the
twins, the swarthy man with the camera who had been at the airport
earlier, stepped from behind a palm tree and watched them go.