The Musubi Murder by Frankie Bow

Author:Frankie Bow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gale, Cengage Learning
Published: 2015-10-22T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I intercepted Honey Akiona as she was about to exit the classroom.

“Eh, Miss,” she said. “Good class.”

“Thanks. Listen, I read your revised paper.”

We moved to a corner of the room, out of the way of the stampede of exiting students.

“Looks good?” she said.

“Yes. It was very good. You covered the topic thoroughly, and I think you gave the reader a real insight into your own moral reasoning.”

She folded her arms and looked down.

“I could understand why, for example, a student, or a group of students, would protest someone like Jimmy Tanaka being on campus.”

She jerked her head up to look at me. “I don’t know nothing about that.”

“Listen,” I said. “I’m sure that the demonstrators, whoever they were, intended to make their point without hurting anyone. The problem is that—” I stopped myself. Jimmy Tanaka’s murder wasn’t public knowledge yet. “The problem is that the . . . prop, the skull, might turn out to be important for another investigation.”

“What other investigation?” she asked.

“Well, I don’t know all the details,” I said, “but it’s very serious. And right now the police seem to believe that the skull came from Dr. Park’s prop room.”

“But it did! I mean,” she added quickly, “where else could it of come from? Eh, how come you’re asking me all this?”

“Well, I’m concerned about Stephen Park, of course.”

“Oh yah, he’s your ex!”

“Stephen—is a friend. And there’s something else. Another skull, a plastic one, turned up in the rubbish can in this classroom. Do you know anything about that?”

Honey tossed her highlighted hair out of her face. “Nah. No worries, but. If someone was trying to scare you, they woulda hung it from the ceiling or something. If they put it in the rubbish, it’s cause they was trying to get rid of it probably.”

“You’re in Stephen Park’s class, right?” I asked. “Have you ever seen anything strange in the prop room?”

“Dunno about strange. It’s all kapakahi, that’s for sure. Thousands a dollars’ worth of stuffs in there, all jumbled up. An’ he never remembers to lock up. I told him he should have some kinda system, like a spreadsheet . . . eh Miss, you okay? Your face getting all pink.”

“Fine,” I said. “I’m fine. Yes, some kind of spreadsheet to keep track of the inventory would have been a marvelous idea. So, it sounds like it’s common knowledge that the prop room doesn’t get locked up?”

“Anyone looking for one human skull or any kine prop coulda just gone in whenever. Just guessing what coulda happened,” she smiled. “ ’Cause I don’t know nothing about it.”

“Of course you don’t,” I said. “But thanks for the useful . . . speculation.”

She hoisted up her bag, a pricey designer number covered with a monogram pattern.

“Okay, Miss. Eh, I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

So the demonstrators supposedly got their skull from Stephen’s prop room. Unless they were guilty of more than a harmless prank, a possibility I didn’t even want to consider. One thing I couldn’t understand

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