“Dad, it’s me,” I said into my phone as I headed north through town. “I’m on my way.” “Your mom said you’d be coming. Fill me in on what’s going on with this brooch.”
Normally, I made it a rule not to have long conversations while I drove, as it tended to distract me, but I needed my dad to know the seriousness of the situation, so I pushed that rule aside and gave him a complete rundown on the status of the brooch and Keahi Kana, aka the Flame, finishing just as I pulled into the driveway.
Dad opened the garage door with a remote device, and I ran inside, hitting a button next to the doorway to lower it again. I hurried through Mom’s studio and into the kitchen, where he was waiting.
I kissed him on the cheek. “Have you got the brooch?”
“I put it in the grocery bag in the fridge with some apples from your mom.”
“More apples? Do you know how many are still in my refrigerator from the last bunch she sent? We can’t eat them that fast.”
“Try telling that to her.”
I removed the brooch from the sack and tucked it inside the zippered compartment in my purse. “Would you call her and tell her to meet us at Bloomers?”
“I’ll leave her a message. She turns off her phone when she’s in a meeting.”
“Okay. While you’re doing that, I’ll get your coat.”
“I’m staying here, Abby.”
“Dad! It isn’t safe here. I don’t know what this Kana might do. He could be Googling your address at this very moment.”
“Let him. He’s not going to chase me out of my own home. I know how to protect myself. It wasn’t so long ago I was a cop.”
A cop who now had almost no use of his legs. “I can’t leave you here, Dad.”
“Why can’t you leave me here? I’m not helpless.”
What was I supposed to say? Yes, you are? I knew how much he struggled to do for himself and how hard it was for him to accept his limitations, but he had to face the fact that he wasn’t the cop he used to be.
I stewed while Dad called Mom’s number and left a message. Clearly, he didn’t understand the risk he was in. He hung up the handset, turned his chair, and started toward the living room, calling, “You’d better get going, Ab.”
Crap. How could I abandon him? I followed him into the living room, dropped my purse onto the floral print sofa, then tossed my coat on top of it and sat down with a heavy sigh.
Dad parked his wheelchair to face the sofa and studied me for a moment. “If you’re staying because you’re afraid for me, Abby, you’ll hurt me worse than the bullet in my leg did.”
I hung my head. “I’m sorry. It’s still tough for me to accept what happened to you.”
“Sometimes it’s tough for me, too, sweetheart, but life goes on. If you keep looking back at the past, you know what’ll happen? You’ll run into a wall. You can’t move forward when you hit a wall, can you?”
“No, you can’t.”
“Never look back, Abby. Make a decision, go forward, and don’t second-guess yourself. You’ll be a better person for it.”
I kicked off my shoes, sat down, and curled my legs beneath me, resisting the urge to check the time on my watch. “So, Dad, as long as you’re in a philosophical mood, maybe you can give me some advice.”
“Now? I thought you wanted to get out of here.”
I wanted to get both of us out of there, but that wasn’t going to happen. “Another fifteen minutes won’t hurt. I’ll let Marco know what’s going on so he won’t worry.”
I used my cell phone but got Marco’s voice mail, so I left him a message telling him where I was and to please call. On the coffee table in front of me sat Mom’s decorative glass jar filled with red hearts. After I put my phone in my coat pocket, I picked up the jar and shook it. “You know Mom hates that you saved these.”
“That’s what she wants you to believe. Actually, it’s become a joke between your mom and me. Whenever one of us says something the other disagrees with, the other will say, ‘Have a heart and shut up.’ ” He laughed. “It defuses a lot of tension.”
That was actually pretty clever. As I put the jar back on the coffee table, Dad asked, “Speaking of tension, how are you doing with your bodyguard?”
“I’m adjusting to having him around. Marco’s mother is coming to town today, though.”
“So? She seems like a warm, generous person and she’s clearly crazy about you, Ab.”
“And I like her, too, but she scares me.”
Dad studied me for a moment. “Why is that?”
“What is this, a therapy session?” I joked.
“I’m just curious.”
I thought about it for a moment. “I guess she scares me because I’m picturing her as my mother-in-law. Do you remember the Marie Barone character on Everybody Loves Raymond? That mother-in-law.”
“Ah. Now we’re getting to the real issue.”
“Which is?”
“The marriage.”
“We’re a long way from that step, Dad.”
“As I recall, you said you were going to get engaged.”
I began to twist a thread on the sofa. “We are. Someday.”
“Is something holding you back?”
“Want my list?”
Dad laughed. “I’m sure your mother’s on it.”
“No, I’m serious. I know this sounds idiotic, but to convince myself that I’m making a wise decision, I started keeping track of all of Marco’s positive and negative qualities. I call them his pluses and minuses. The only thing is that the minuses are catching up to the pluses.”
“Give me an example.”
I sighed. “Okay, well, for one thing, I’ve always admired how forceful and commanding Marco is, but there have been times lately when he’s been so bossy, I wanted to cross off his pluses. What I saw as confidence is looking more like arrogance, and his tenaciousness is pure stubbornness. Then there’s his strong, silent mode that I used to think was sexy and mysterious. Frankly, that’s starting to feel a bit cavemanish.”
Dad laughed. “Except for the caveman part, you could be describing your mom.” He reached over to take my hands. “Sweetheart, you’re viewing two sides of the same coin. Confidence or arrogance? It depends on your mood and the circumstance.”
“To a certain extent, sure, but what if I’ve been wearing those proverbial rose-colored glasses, and I’m just now viewing the real Marco?”
“The real Marco as opposed to the heroic Marco? Yes, Marco has flaws. Who doesn’t?”
“I didn’t expect him to have so many, Dad.”
“Listen to me, Abby. My years as a cop taught me a lot about people. I can size up a man in the blink of an eye and know if he’s brave or cowardly, a bully or a phony. Marco is a nice-looking, intelligent, honest, capable man who will stand beside you in good times and bad. The problem is, he’s come to your aid so many times, you’ve put him on a pedestal as some sort of hero. But no one should ever be put on a pedestal, because it’s not fair to ask any of us mere mortals to live up to such lofty expectations. He’s just a man, warts and all.
“And remember, you’re being forced together much more than a normal married couple would be, unless of course you worked together, which presents different problems.”
Dad had a good point. I’d been calling Marco my hero for quite a few months, yet whenever he didn’t act heroic, I got testy. “So what you’re saying is that I accept Marco with his flaws or don’t marry him.”
“That’s it in a nutshell. It’s up to you to decide whether to see Marco’s qualities as pluses or minuses, Ab. Look at your mother and me. Maureen could see me as a weak, washed-up ex-cop, but she has never treated me that way. And I see your mom’s quirky artistic bent as part of the fun of being with her. I never know what she’ll come up with next. It keeps life exciting. And every time I see that jar of candy, I smile. Who would’ve guessed those silly hearts could bring so much joy?”
I nibbled my lower lip, thinking about Marco’s side of our relationship. He rarely complained about me, but when he did, it was usually because I was putting myself or someone else in danger.
“What are you thinking?” Dad asked.
“Just wondering if Marco sees me as quirky and exciting or impetuous and tiresome.”
“That might depend on when you ask him.”
“Did you ever have doubts before you married Mom?”
“Sure. I worried whether I could be a good provider. I didn’t want to disappoint her.”
“I don’t think you’ve ever disappointed her, Dad.”
“Parents go through a lot their kids never know about, nor should they until they’re old enough to handle it. If you want to know the truth, your mom and I went to couples’ counseling for nearly a year. We had a rough adjustment after my injury and forced retirement grounded me. I give your mom a lot of credit for sticking with me, Ab. She had every right to leave. I was angry for months. She had to make the decision to see the best in me.”
“You both put on a good front, then, because I never suspected that was happening.”
“You weren’t supposed to. You were in your own world, away at college. Why would we burden you with our problems?”
“But now I feel like I missed out on parts of your lives.”
“Would you have felt better knowing what we were going through? Would it have made you get better grades?”
“Nothing short of a brain transplant could have done that.”
He smiled, gazing at me with love. “Do you know why I dubbed you Abracadabra?”
“Because I disappeared when it was time for chores.”
“That, too. But mostly because when your heart is in danger of being wounded, you construct an invisible shield around it, like that magician who makes buildings disappear. No one can see it, but I’ve always felt when it went up.”
“How come that shield didn’t work with Pryce? I was wounded after he dumped me.”
“That’s easy to explain. He bailed out on you before you realized your mistake and bailed out on him. I had a bet with your mom as to whether you’d ever walk down that aisle with him.”
And all along I thought they were devastated by the breakup. My head was starting to ache. I rubbed my temples. “Are you saying Jillian and I are alike?”
“Jillian jilted what, four, five men at the altar? I don’t think that’s you-at least I hope not. But I do think you’re doing your magic trick right now with this list of pluses and minuses, making your case, so to speak, for backing out.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
“I’ve given you a lot to think about, haven’t I?”
“Yes, like I’m a coward when it comes to love.”
Dad laughed. “The other side of that coin is cautiousness, Abby. What you’ve got to do is walk a fine line between caution and fear. And I know you can do that. So?”
“So… I’ll think about what you said.”
“And?”
“And… discuss it with Marco?”
“That’s my girl.” Dad held out his arms, and I leaned over the coffee table for a hug.
“How touching,” a male voice said.
I straightened with a gasp and Dad wheeled his chair around as a stranger stepped through the kitchen doorway. Short in stature, wearing a three-piece gray business suit, he had caramel-colored skin, black hair, and the hooded eyes of a cobra.
“Ms. Knight,” he said softly, hissing the S. “We meet at last.”
I had to swallow the lump of fear in my throat before I could speak. “Mr. Kana?”
He tipped his head in acknowledgment. “You know why I’ve come.”
“All I know is that you’re trespassing,” Dad said gruffly. “Get out of my house!”
Kana smiled tightly. “I’d be happy to, as soon as I have the brooch.”
“It’s not here,” Dad said with a defiant lift of his chin.
Kana’s eyes narrowed into angry slits. “We all know it is, and I suggest you not get in my way, old man. You don’t want to see what happens when I get angry.”
“Don’t you dare threaten me, you punk!”
I held my breath. What was Dad doing?
“Or what?” Kana sneered. “You’ll run me over with your chair?”
Pressing his lips together, Dad started toward him, but Kana immediately flashed a sharp, light-colored blade, causing Dad to pull back. With the knife in his right hand, his gaze locked on my dad, the Hawaiian held out his left toward me. “Give me the brooch, Ms. Knight.”
I swallowed hard as I stared at his outstretched palm. I couldn’t hand over the brooch. Once Kana had it, there was no reason to keep us alive. But what were my options? Dad wasn’t capable of subduing the man, and I knew I couldn’t distract Kana long enough to make a call on my cell phone. I could throw something at his head, the candy jar perhaps, in the hopes I could escape in the confusion, but what about Dad? I couldn’t leave him trapped with a killer.
“The brooch, Ms. Knight,” Kana snapped, making me jump.
Dad wheeled himself backward in one strong motion and reached for the telephone on the table beside the sofa, quickly punching in 911.
In a flash, Kana crossed the room to the table and cut the phone line. “You do not want to attempt anything so foolish, my friend. I do not play games.”
“I don’t play games, either,” Dad said, “especially with a punk like you. And I’m not your friend. I’m a cop.”
“A punk like me?” Kana repeated slowly, his nostrils flaring.
“Dad, please don’t!” I whispered. But he didn’t heed my warning.
“That’s right,” Dad said, “and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out of my house right now.”
In the blink of an eye, Kana was in his face, holding the blade of his knife up to Dad’s throat. “And who, exactly, is going to make me?”
I had to stop myself from crying out, fearing my doing so might cause the Hawaiian to make good on his threat. My heart slammed against my ribs as Kana stared straight into Dad’s eyes. “You, old man? You?”
“Yes, me,” Dad said, his voice tight and raspy, as a line of blood appeared on his throat.
I stifled a whimper. Why was Dad goading him?
Suddenly, Kana straightened, looking very smug. “Then come get me.” He put his shoe on the footrest of Dad’s wheelchair and gave it a hard shove.
I gasped as Dad’s head snapped forward, then back. He gripped the wheels to steady his chair, glaring at the Hawaiian, a trickle of blood running down his throat. “If I wasn’t in this chair-”
“Come on, then!” Kana cried, waving his knife back and forth, taunting him. “Get up! What’s stopping you? Need your running shoes?”
“Abby, get my crutches.”
I stared at Dad in shock. Surely he wasn’t serious! What did he think he could do?
“Abby.”
I eyed the metal crutches propped in the corner, but as soon as I made a move, Kana pointed his knife at me. “Stay where you are.” He backed toward the corner, then folded the blade, slipped it in his pocket, and picked up a crutch in each hand. “Are these what you want?”
“Unless you’re afraid to give them to me,” Dad said.
Kana used the rubber end of one of the crutches to poke Dad’s knee. “For a crippled old man, you certainly talk big.” He turned and heaved the crutch through the kitchen doorway, where it hit the refrigerator and clattered to the tile floor. “You want your crutch? Go get it.”
Dad glared at him. “You son of a-”
“I said go get it!” Kana yelled. But when Dad started toward the kitchen, Kana shoved his wheelchair back again. “Not in your chair. Crawl! Do you hear me? Crawl for it.”
My heart constricted. If Kana wanted to humiliate my father, that was how to do it.
As Dad struggled to control his temper, I knew I had to do something to distract Kana before he humiliated Dad any further-or worse. All I could think of was to get him talking. Maybe that would buy us some time until someone realized we were in trouble.
Suddenly my phone began to play Reilly’s ringtone. I froze as Kana glanced toward my coat.
“I know you stole the brooch from a museum in Hawaii,” I said, talking over the tune. “Why that brooch? Why the anthurium? Is it the most valuable or was it easier to conceal?”
The music stopped. I breathed a silent sigh of relief.
Kana gave me a coy glance. “Your curiosity seems out of place at such a time, Ms. Knight. You’re not stalling, by any chance, are you? Trying to keep me from finding the brooch?”
I could feel my face turning red. I’d never been able to hide my emotions. Still, it seemed to have worked. He wasn’t focusing on Dad. “Do you really think I’d keep a valuable brooch at my parents’ house?”
He used the other crutch to pull books off the bookshelf against the wall, letting them fall to the floor one by one. “But the brooch is here. And you know how I know that.”
“You planted a bug,” I said. “Too bad I found it.”
“You found it too late.” He tipped over a ceramic vase, sending it tumbling to the carpet, where it rolled to his feet. He stepped on it, cracking it, then peered inside. “What a shame to ruin these nice things. You could simply give me the brooch, Ms. Knight.”
“How about if you answer my questions first, such as why a smart thief would hire bunglers like Bebe and Hudge?”
“I see you prefer to draw this out. Very well. We’ll play it your way.” His gaze swept the room. How long before he found my purse? “I didn’t hire the, as you called them, bunglers.” Kana moved around the room, looking under objects, pushing aside drapes. “My error was in trusting someone else to do a job for which he wasn’t qualified.”
Kana swept a potted orchid and two mirrored picture frames to the floor. “Fortunately, I do learn from my mistakes.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see Dad slowly moving his wheelchair backward, in the direction of my mom’s antique writing desk in the corner, beyond the sofa. It was a rolltop desk and the top was shut. Inside were tiny cubbyholes where Mom kept bills and miscellaneous items. The desk had a secret compartment. Was that where Dad kept his service revolver?
Trying not to sound as anxious as I felt, I said, “You’re referring to Tom Harding?”
Kana was eyeing my coat. “Mr. Harding was a disappointment.”
I moved to block his view. “Your plan was that Harding was supposed to receive the brooch and turn it over to you, right? Except that it went to me instead. So Harding hired Hudge and Bebe to get it back. And when they screwed that up for the third time, you killed one of them, then beat up Harding and left him to die.”
Kana held out his palms. “Beat him and dirty my hands? No, Ms. Knight, I prefer something cleaner.” He reached inside his suit coat and seconds later was holding his knife. His eyes glimmered with excitement as he ran the tip along the padded armrest of the crutch, watching my face as the rubber cushion split in half.
“You know Harding is alive, right?” I asked in a trembling voice.
Kana paused, his gaze registering a tiny flicker of doubt. Then, apparently finished with his demonstration, he folded the knife, slipped it back inside his pocket, and used the crutch to move me aside. Without saying a word, he hooked the crutch under my coat and pulled it toward him, dragging my purse with it. As he lifted the coat into the air, my purse fell to the floor. I flinched, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Did Harding’s girlfriend leave the country because she thought you were coming after her next?” I asked, pressing on, as he pulled my cell phone from the coat pocket. “You know she flew to France, right? The authorities are tracking her down right now. She should have an interesting tale to tell them about you.”
“Ms. Haven is no longer a threat,” Kana said. He tossed the phone through the kitchen doorway, then dropped the crutch and began to pat down my coat, as though it had hidden compartments. My purse would be next.
With a racing heart, I used my shoe to move my purse closer to the sofa, hoping I could slide it underneath. “Just out of curiosity, would you mind telling me how you managed to get a weapon inside the county jail and stab Hudge in a room full of witnesses?”
“There were so many people in uniforms, no one noticed one more, nor do metal detectors register anything but metal. But you aren’t truly interested in my talents, are you?” He tossed my coat aside. “Just as I am not interested in your pathetic attempts to distract me.”
My heart stopped as he leaned over to pick up my purse.
Suddenly, his attention was drawn to Dad. “Stop!” he cried, leaping over the end of the coffee table. He grabbed the handles on the back of the wheelchair and yanked Dad away from the writing desk. He reached inside and withdrew my mom’s old cell phone. “Did you think I wouldn’t see you?” he cried in a rage.
Dad pressed his mouth into a tight line.
Kana dropped the phone onto the carpet and ground his heel on it. “There! Pick it up if you want it, you old fool.” When Dad didn’t move, Kana kicked his chair. “I said pick it up!”
My heart was pounding so hard I felt faint, but I forced myself to say, “We don’t need a phone. The police know you’re here-my boyfriend alerted them. That’s why I’ve been stalling, Mr. Kana, so unless you want to be caught, you’d better forget the brooch and leave immediately.”
“Your boyfriend, Ms. Knight, has had a serious accident. I doubt he was able to tell the police anything.”
Oh, my God. Marco was in an accident. I stared at Kana in horror. He was watching me now, enjoying the shock that was surely written on my face, so I wasn’t about to ask him for details, but not knowing Marco’s condition was tearing me to pieces. Was that why Reilly had called? To tell me about the accident?
“He’s a liar,” Dad murmured. “Don’t believe him.”
“What did you say?” Kana demanded.
“I said you’re a liar,” Dad said more forcefully. “A liar and a coward who gets his kicks out of intimidating people he thinks are weaker than he is.”
“A coward?” Enraged, Kana drew out his knife and put the tip beneath Dad’s chin, forcing his head back. “You’re a crazy old man who knows nothing about me!”
“Please,” I cried, “put the knife down, Mr. Kana. He didn’t mean it.” But Dad kept goading, as though Kana’s threat meant nothing to him.
“I’ve seen too many punks like you, Kana,” he said through compressed lips. “I-” Suddenly, Dad’s eyes grew huge and he gave a loud gasp. Kana jerked the knife away from his chin as Dad began to struggle for breath.
“Dad, what’s wrong?” I cried.
His face turned red, his eyes rolled back, and his head started to fall forward. He caught himself and snapped upright again. Was he having a stroke?
“What is he doing?” Kana asked sharply, stepping back.
“Sugar… low.” Dad gulped for air, as though he was about to pass out; then his eyelids fluttered and his head fell forward again.
Sugar low? What was he talking about?
Dad’s head jerked up, and he struggled to open his eyes. He gasped several times, then said in a raspy voice, “Forgot… to take… insulin.”
“You forgot your insulin?” I repeated in bewilderment. But he wasn’t diabetic. He couldn’t be thinking clearly. Or had he not told me he had diabetes?
I started toward him only to have Kana jab the knife at me. “Sit down! Over there!”
I watched from the far end of the sofa as Dad made a weak effort to point to the glass jar. “Candy.” His eyes closed, his mouth sagged open, and his head dropped forward. Drool leaked from his mouth.
Closing his knife and tucking it in his pocket, Kana lifted the glass jar and held it out in front of Dad. “Is this what you want?”
Dad roused himself and tried to stretch out his hand. “Candy. Hurry.”
Kana shook the jar. “Are you sure?”
Dad’s jaw was slack, his breathing more labored. “Please,” he whispered.
“Then come get them,” Kana taunted. He glanced behind him so he wouldn’t trip on the books, and in that split second, Dad cast me a look that explained everything. There wasn’t anything wrong with him. He had a plan!
“Come on, old man. Here they are,” Kana coaxed, shaking the jar.
Dad winced convincingly as he attempted to grip the wheels to move the chair forward.
“Not in your chair,” Kana sneered. “Get up! On your feet. What kind of a big man are you that you can’t get up and come get them?”
As Dad slumped over, I said, “Please, Mr. Kana. My dad’s about to go into diabetic shock. He could die unless he gets sugar into his system. You don’t want another murder on your hands, do you?”
“Hey, old man.” Kana jostled the wheelchair with his foot until Dad dragged his head up. “Pay attention.” Then Kana removed the lid, dug out a handful of hearts, and displayed them in his palm. “Are you willing to beg for these to save your life?”
Dad murmured something, his head sagging. I held my breath as Kana moved up close, until he was inches from Dad’s face. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you.”
“Please,” Dad rasped, “I beg you.”
“That’s more like it.” Kana held out his hand, offering him the candy.
I bit my lip as Dad lifted a trembling hand. What if he were forced to swallow them?
With a smug grin, Kana withdrew the candy. “Perhaps… I should eat them instead.” He tilted his head back and let the red hearts slide from his cupped palm into his mouth. He moaned as he chewed, as though they were delicious.
At once his eyes widened and his mouth opened like a fish as he dragged in air to cool his burning tongue. But that merely caused him to choke and cough up red goo. He tried to scrape the sticky candy off his tongue. He clawed at his throat, as though to rip out the searing heat.
In a swift, sure motion, Dad grabbed Kana’s arm with one strong hand and yanked him forward onto his knees, then gripped Kana’s throat with his other hand, practically lifting him in the air. “No one threatens my family,” he sneered.
As the Hawaiian fought to free himself, Dad tumbled forward, taking himself and Kana to the floor. “Get my cuffs from the drawer,” Dad ordered, keeping up his choke hold.
I ran for the handcuffs in the bottom kitchen drawer, but I yanked the drawer open with so much force that it fell to the floor, spilling the contents. Quickly I scooped up the handcuffs and ran back.
Dad had one of Kana’s arms stretched out to the side. His other hand was on Kana’s throat. “Snap a cuff on his wrist.”
Kana’s face was deep red and his eyes watery. Clearly he was in pain, yet even as he gasped for air, he managed a last effort to push my dad away. But Dad held him easily while I followed his commands.
“Loop the cuff around the sofa leg,” Dad said.
Quickly, I obeyed, then fastened that cuff on Kana’s other wrist.
“Now call the cops,” Dad said. He rolled onto the floor, putting distance between himself and the Hawaiian, then pushed himself to a sitting position and leaned against the sofa, breathing hard.
For a second all I could do was stare at my father in awe. I thought I needed to protect him, yet he had saved both of us. He was still the brave police officer I’d always admired. Tears misted my eyes. There was only one cripple in the room, and it wasn’t Dad.
At a heavy pounding on the front door, I jumped.
“Police. Open up.”
I ran to open the door and there was Reilly and five of New Chapel’s finest. I stepped back and they poured into the living room. Behind them stood my hero-make that Marco-who didn’t appear to be injured. I threw myself into his arms and leaned my head against his chest, my arms around his waist. “Marco, thank God you’re all right! Kana said you were in an accident.”
“It’s okay, Sunshine,” he said, stroking my hair. “I wasn’t hurt.”
I lifted my head to gaze at him. “You were in an accident?”
“Yes, and lucky for me I had that defensive driver training. But there’s an injured limo driver on his way to the hospital and a badly damaged black Cadillac wrapped around a pole at the intersection of Lincoln and Franklin. Are you all right?”
“Thanks to some quick thinking by my dad, we’re both all right. Marco, Dad was amazing. He tricked Kana into eating Mom’s red-hot candy, then took him down to the floor in a choke hold. He was fearless.”
“That’s where you get that quality, Abby, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Really? You think I’m fearless?”
“Fiercely.”
We went to see how Dad was faring. He was back in his wheelchair, thanks to the cops, with a cloth pressed to the cut on his neck. Kana had been hauled to his feet, rehandcuffed with his hands behind his back, and searched. He was still drooling and begging for water, which Reilly was just now bringing to him.
I filled Reilly and Marco in on our ordeal, how the brooch had ended up at Bloomers instead of Tom’s Green Thumb, Harding’s role in the theft, and what I’d been able to get Kana to admit.
“So Kana was the mastermind behind the kidnappings,” Reilly said, sizing up the Hawaiian.
“Kana planted a listening device in that flashlight he left for me,” I told Marco. “That’s how he found out the brooch was here. I dropped it and discovered the bug, so I knew he’d heard me call my mom and tell her to have the brooch ready. I dashed over to pick it up, but Kana got here before I left.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Reilly asked. “I would’ve come to pick it up.”
“I-” Didn’t have a good reason.
“My fault,” Dad said. “I asked her to keep me company.” ›
I smiled Dad my thanks, then glanced over at Kana, who was greedily drinking the water. “Reilly, the knife your guys found in his coat is probably the murder weapon used on Hudge. Kana admitted he slipped into the jail and killed Hudge.”
“Wait a minute,” Reilly said. “No one can just walk into the county jail.”
“Then you might want to have Mr. Kana tell you how to fix that security glitch, because he got in. And check with the cops in Maui, too. I’m guessing his knife might have been used to kill the young man who shipped that brooch here.”
“You won’t be able to prove a thing,” Kana said in a hoarse whisper.
“There are people who can help us with that,” Marco said. “Like Tom Harding.”
“Who, as it happens,” Reilly said, “came out of his coma today.”
Kana’s gaze darted from Marco to Reilly, as though seeking verification, so Reilly added, “Two hours ago. Brain swelling went down. He’ll be singing like a bird by tomorrow.”
Kana didn’t look quite as sure of himself as two officers marched him out to the cruiser.
“Is it true?” I asked Reilly. “Is Harding going to be okay?”
“We still don’t know. I just wanted to give the guy something to worry about.”
I went to give my dad a big hug. “Diabetic shock. That was an amazing idea.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Dad said, but I could tell he was proud of himself.
“You should have seen him in action, Marco.” I hugged my father again and whispered in his ear, “I think I have a new hero.”
“Abby!” Dad said, giving me a warning look.
“Just kidding.”
“So your mom’s candy saved the day?” Marco asked, putting the lid on the jar.
I glanced at my dad and we both opened our eyes wide at the enormity of it.
“You can’t tell her,” I said to Dad.
“Tell her what? That the candy I’ve been saying nearly wiped out her family ended up saving our lives? Believe me, Ab, she won’t hear it from me.”
I handed the brooch to Reilly; then we stayed at the house long enough to give statements to the police. Afterward, Marco walked me to the minivan, where I leaned against the side of the van and let him kiss me.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I said. “And I’m very glad you came here with Reilly.”
“I had no choice. You gave me an order. ‘Pick up the brooch now.’ ”
I laughed. “You heard only the last part of that message. I had just figured out that Kana was listening in on my conversations, so I was trying to make him think the cops were on their way to my parents’ house. Not that it worked.”
“After the Cadillac tried to broadside me, I called Bloomers to let you know what happened, and Lottie said you and the minivan were gone. I phoned Reilly and he met me here.”
“As Tara would say, you arrived just in the nick of time, like in the movies. Did you ever find out how those anemone petals got smashed into the treads of Charlotte’s shoes? Or why Attorney Knowles fired her?”
“Yes to both. When I went back to Tom’s Green Thumb to talk to Robin, she reported finding a mess on the stockroom floor after the anemones were delivered. Most of the flowers were destroyed and petals were all over the place. She said it looked like someone had a tantrum. Anyone walking through the stockroom before they’d been cleaned up would have gotten petals stuck on the bottom of their shoes, and deep treads would’ve held them there.
“Then Harding must have met with Hudge and Bebe before the flowers were cleaned up. He probably threw a fit when they botched the second kidnapping.
“And as for Knowles, he fired Charlotte for stealing office supplies.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” He kissed me. “Satisfied?”
“Yes.” I gave Marco a hug. “I’m so relieved you’re not hurt.”
“How do you think I feel about you and your dad? If you had waited for me to take you to your parents’ house, none of this would have happened.”
Not true. Kana would have showed up before we got there. But it was over and everything had worked out, so why bring it up? “I’m sorry, Marco. I’ll try to make sure it never happens again.”
He gave me a skeptical look. “You’re not going to list your reasons for not waiting?”
“Nope. I’m done with lists. I’d rather contemplate your positive qualities.”
“I’m not even going to ask you to explain.”
“Okay, you can kiss me again instead.”
His mouth curved up at the corner. “We can do a lot more than that.”
“Tonight?”
“Later tonight.”
Things were looking up.
“And tomorrow,” he said, his lips against my ear, “my place for dinner?”
“Perfect. Just the two of us-” I pushed away from him. “Your mother invited me to dinner, didn’t she?”
“Yep.”
Things were no longer looking up.