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of.
    Before leaving the immense underground parking garage that sprawled beneath the Royal Banyan, I tried out all the Jeep’s buttons, levers, and other technological toys, wanting to make sure I wouldn’t encounter any surprises once I got it out on the road. As I fumbled around for the seat adjustment, my hand made contact with something plastic. I pulled the mystery item out from underneath the seat and discovered I was the proud new owner of a pair of sunglasses.
    Unfortunately, they were so badly scratched that they’d outlived their usefulness. The fact that one of the earpieces was also pretty wobbly didn’t help.
    So much for doing a crackerjack job of cleaning out the rental cars, I thought with annoyance, looking around for a garbage can. Since none was in sight, I tossed the shades into the glove compartment.
    I did a quick search for other leftovers. Then, once I was sure any additional clutter that accumulated in the car would be the result of my own carelessness, I took off for police headquarters in Wailuku.
    Guided by the map I’d picked up at the car rental counter, I headed south along Honoapiilani Highway. As I traveled along Maui’s scenic western coast, I tried to think positive. My hope was that this Detective Peter Paleka who was mentioned in the newspaper, or whoever else I managed to speak with at police headquarters in Wailuku, would put the whole incident of the missing envelope and how it might be related to Marnie’s murder into perspective. Or maybe he’d simply do a better job than Nick had of convincing me that I’d imagined the whole thing.
    I was still trying to convince myself of that possibility when my stomach suddenly lurched, an annoying phenomenon that seemed to occur pretty much every time an unsavory thought popped into my mind. I instinctively grasped the steering wheel more tightly to make sure I didn’t veer off the road.
    What if whoever wanted that cassette badly enough to break into my hotel room thinks
I
know something? I thought. What if he assumes I know what was on the tape he was so desperate to get his hands on?
    And what would happen once he realized he’d snatched the wrong tape? I wondered. Sooner or later, he was bound to discover that the one he grabbed out of my hotel room contained nothing more interesting than some jovial veterinarian relating amusing anecdotes about the zany antics of his clients and their pets. Would he come back, determined to get hold of the right one?
    For all I knew, just being in the wrong place at the wrong time had put me in serious danger. Maybe even as much danger as Marnie.
    I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. I told myself that Detective Paleka would help me sort it all out. Meanwhile, I attempted to distract myself by rolling down the windows, breathing in the sweet, warm air, and taking in my surroundings.
    I could see that this part of the island didn’t cater to tourists. There were no humongous hotels here, no dense complexes of condos. Instead, this was where the real residents lived. I knew from Nick’s guidebook that Wailuku had its share of attractions to lure visitors: antiques shops, an old theater, a very old church, and a museum of Hawaiian history inside the nineteenth-century home of a sugar plantation owner. But as I drove through, I was inundated with signs of modern-day life. I passed low-rise office buildings occupied by doctors, lawyers, and accountants, video stores and supermarkets, and a few national chain stores that were guaranteed to cure any tourist who might be suffering pangs of homesickness.
    The Maui police station on Mahalani Street was a modern two-story building with lush trees decorating the front lawn. To the east was a dramatic view of the ocean. As I pulled into the parking lot, I was still trying to convince myself that I was simply letting my paranoia run away with me. The idea that I had inadvertently become involved in whatever