Read Surfing Detective 02 - Wipeout for Free Online Page B

this trip.” She peered at me with those intense violet eyes. “Without that insurance money the baby and I are lost.”
    “What about your family, or Corky’s family? Can’t they help?”
    “Not really.” Summer sighed. “Corky was estranged from his parents. He deeply loved his mother, but never got along with his stepfather. A few years ago they moved to Idaho. I don’t even know where in Idaho. But Corky’s folks never cared much for me, anyway. They didn’t call or write when Corky died. I thought I’d at least hear from his mother.”
    “What about your family?”
    “Just my mother is left. She lives on social security from check to check. She usually needs help from me—not the reverse . . .” Summer paused. “If I didn’t need that insurance money I wouldn’t have come all this way.”
    The waitress refilled my coffee. I decided to take a different track. “The BMW convertible you mentioned. I’m going to visit the dealership later this morning, but I need more to go on. The model, the color, the year, the license—any specifics would help.”
    “We’ll, I’m not a ‘car person.’” She uttered the phrase wistfully. “Cars, for me, are just a way to get from here to there. But Corky loved expensive, exotic cars, though he could never afford to own the ones he worked on in his detailing business.”
    “Were there any BMWs, even in California, that he may have he detailed?”
    “Mmmm . . . there was this one beautiful maroon car with cream-colored leather.”
    “Was it a convertible?”
    “I think so . . .” She paused again. “Yes, the top was cream or beige, the same color as its seats.”
    “So the only BMW you can remember him working on was a maroon and cream convertible? Any idea what year it was?”
    “Brand new. Or almost new.”
    “Do you remember the owner?”
    “Only that it was a California customer.” Summer looked puzzled. “But I doubt that car would be here in Hawai‘i.”
    “You’re probably right. But it’s all we have to go on. I’ll check it out with the dealer.“
    “Will you call me as soon as you find out anything?”
    “Of course . . .” I hesitated. “You know, when I called you before, I wasn’t sure I dialed the right number. There was a man’s voice on the answering machine—an older man with a thick accent.”
    “I got your message.” Summer looked away. She rose, her bulging figure setting her slightly off-balance. “Do you need any more money?”
    “No.” I waved her off. “You’ve given me plenty for now.”
    Summer made her way toward Denny’s exit, then down the stairs to street level. Where the Love’s bakery van had been, Summer now waited by the curb. A man in a dark suit was talking on a cell phone next to her. Then I noticed he wasn’t just standing next to her; he had his free arm hooked into one of hers, as if escorting her.
    The black Mercedes pulled up again and Summer and the man climbed into the back seat. It whisked them off in the direction of Diamond Head, leaving me more than curious about Summer’s mysterious friends.
    Down by the Waikiki Aquarium, where I had parked under a shady stand of ironwoods, I climbed into my Impala and headed for Honolulu’s sole BMW dealership. Chances were, if the car Corky was seen in had been purchased or serviced here, the dealer would know about it.
    After a few minutes traveling
ewa
on Kapi‘olani Boulevard, I pulled to the curb just beyond Ward Avenue, parking my old Chevy out of view from the showroom. I strolled down the street and then through the showroom doors, trying to look as confident as any potential new luxury car buyer.
    The mirror-like marble floor reflected an impressive array of German automobiles. While waiting for the salesman I had time to admire them: sedans in midnight blue and metallic silver, a pastel yellow convertible, a flame red sports car. I eyed supple leather seats in one sleek “driving machine” after another. Had I forty or sixty or eighty