§ § § -- July 14, 1993
By suppertime Roarke had heard from everyone he'd contacted, much to Leslie's surprise. "Shall we invite Cornelius and Alphonse to dinner?" he suggested.
She looked thoughtful. "Well, I'm not so sure about that. You asked me a while ago why I came in a little late. Cornelius must be really into this little project of his, because he waylaid me at the pool and asked quite a few questions." She outlined what had happened earlier that afternoon.
"I see," Roarke said. "He seemed that enthusiastic?"
"To me he did," Leslie said, nodding. "In spite of our past history with him and Alphonse, I sort of hate to burst his bubble. And Alphonse was having such a great time in the pool." She snickered.
Roarke responded with a chuckle. "Well, all right. At any rate, Clark Mokuleia did say he was sending someone out to ask about the provenance of this alleged island Cornelius believes he owns. When I told him about it, he said it sounded oddly familiar to him somehow. It sounded as if he were acting on a hunch, so I told him to look into it."
"In that case," Leslie said, "why don't we let those poor slobs have a night free to daydream, and we can break the bad news tomorrow."
"How can you be so certain it's bad news?" Roarke teased her.
She eyed him with raised brows. "Because it's always bad news with those two."
Laughing, Roarke nodded and escorted her out to the veranda. They spent a leisurely forty minutes or so at their meal, and Leslie had just finished a dessert of mandarin orange segments in vanilla ice cream when a jeep hove into view around the northern loop of the Main House Lane and pulled to a stop in front of the main house. Sheriff Clark Mokuleia hopped out and waved at them. He was a handsome young man a year or two older than Leslie and, though born in Hawaii, had grown up in the fishing village.
"Good evening, Sheriff," Roarke called. "I presume you have something to report."
"Certainly do, Mr. Roarke," Mokuleia said. "I hope I'm not interrupting."
"No, we're finished," said Leslie. "Come on up." Mokuleia trotted up the steps and strode across the veranda as Mariki came out with her cart. The two greeted each other, and Mariki set about clearing the table while Mokuleia took one of the empty chairs.
"So what have you found, sheriff?" Roarke inquired.
Mokuleia grinned wryly. "I knew there was a reason Kelly's Jewel sounded familiar. My parents have distant relatives in Tahiti, and off the northern end of that island to the west is an island called Moorea. There's a very tall rock off Moorea's northern coast; it's privately owned, and there's a little house right atop the rock, with a helipad on its roof. That's the only way the owner can get on and off his rock. Now, one of my relatives heard that the owner was tired of his isolation and decided he wanted to sell the place, and put out the word around Moorea and Tahiti. Apparently your friend Cornelius spent some time in Papeete recently, because it turns out that's what he bought."
Roarke and Leslie looked at each other. "Do you happen to know the proposed selling price of this, uh, rock?" Roarke asked.
"Let me put it this way—it was quite a bit more than Mr. Kelly paid for it." Mokuleia said with another grin. "Someone must have taken him for an easy mark and figured he could come into some quick money, and sold him that rock. Problem is, that person didn't have the authority to sell it to him."
"So you were right, Leslie," Roarke remarked, his dark eyes twinkling. "Cornelius' deed really is a forgery, of sorts."
Leslie shook her head, laughing. "He had to have bought it sight unseen. From your description, sheriff, it doesn't sound too appealing. So either he fell for the bogus seller's description—which I'm sure was highly embellished—or he didn't bother waiting for one at all and simply forked over whatever the asking price was. And if a helicopter is really the only way on and off that place, then Cornelius would have to learn to fly one, not to mention go out and buy one."
"Indeed," Roarke agreed, joining in her laughter along with Mokuleia. "Well, then, I suppose we'll simply have to break the news to Cornelius."
"It's not quite all bad, actually," Mokuleia said. He grinned. "It might soften the blow when you tell the poor guy." He filled them in on the rest of the story, and a few minutes later left both Roarke and Leslie convulsed with laughter.
§ § § -- July 15, 1993
Shortly after breakfast the following morning, Roarke and Leslie returned to the study, where Roarke opened the top middle drawer in the desk and removed the deed Cornelius had given him the previous morning. "Well, it can't be put off any longer."
"So much for the luck of the Irish," observed Leslie with a snicker, watching Roarke pick up the phone and punch out 325, the number at the hotel. Roarke grinned at her and waited a few seconds.
"Ah, yes, good morning, Tomiko. Would you be so kind as to put me through to Cornelius Kelly's room, please?" he asked. "Thank you." He waited about ten more seconds before receiving an answer. "Well, good morning, Cornelius!" His eyebrows shot up at Cornelius' reply, and his tone grew gently admonishing. "What, you're still not out of bed? Why, it's already eight-thirty!…Yes, as a matter of fact, I did indeed find out all about your little acquisition. Why don't you and Alphonse come to the main house, and we'll talk about it, huh? Good. I'll be expecting you." And with that, he hung up.
Before much longer there was a knock on the door; Leslie got up and let Cornelius and Alphonse in. Cornelius looked hopeful; Alphonse just looked impatient. It was he who broke the silence when they were all standing in the study. "Well?"
Roarke picked up the deed, arose and gave Cornelius a pitying look. "I'm sorry to tell you that you are the victim of a fraud."
Cornelius gaped at him. "Wha…?"
Roarke nodded and proceeded to tell Cornelius what Sheriff Mokuleia had told him and Leslie the previous evening. Alphonse stood shaking his head as if he had known all along; Cornelius looked more and more bereft the more he heard. Finally he let out a noise that sounded like a sob. "He took me! That swindler, he stole everything I had!"
Roarke grinned. "Oh, perhaps not, Cornelius. It just so happens that the sheriff discovered that the check you wrote to the swindler subsequently bounced. So apparently, your inheritance is still intact, except for the bank fees to cover returned checks. Perhaps you haven't really lost anything."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Leslie drawled, joining her father behind the desk. "Since you've got plenty of money now, you shouldn't feel too much pain in paying off your debt to Father, Mr. Kelly, and then you and Alphonse are free to leave."
"But not before then, is that it, missy?" Alphonse demanded.
"You got it," said Leslie, smiling amiably.
"Well…" Cornelius scratched his head, squinting at the ceiling. "Only trouble with that is, I don't remember how much I owe. Couple hundred, maybe?"
Leslie snorted, and Roarke raised an eyebrow. "Oh, Cornelius, I'm afraid you've grossly underestimated the amount of your outstanding debt. With accrued interest over fourteen years, I believe the current total is approximately twenty thousand dollars."
Cornelius gasped. "But…but…that's nearly the entire inheritance! Aw, now, Mr. Roarke…seeing as we're such good friends and all…can't we work out a payment plan?"
"You had fourteen years to pay it off," Roarke pointed out. "In all that time, I received a total of one thousand, six hundred eighty-two dollars and twenty-four cents."
"But…but…" Cornelius floundered.
Leslie cleared her throat. "Say, Mr. Kelly," she said thoughtfully, "if Father's agreeable, we might be able to work something out. If you pay back the full principal now, in one lump sum, he might be willing to forgo the interest."
"I could go for that," Cornelius said eagerly. "Is that okay with you, Mr. Roarke?"
"I don't see why not," Roarke mused, "if only to clear up the matter once and for all."
"Sounds like everyone's in agreement," Leslie said. "Come on, Mr. Kelly, I'll escort you to the bank."
"Heck no," Cornelius blurted. "Frankly, young lady, you scare the pants right offa me. If Mr. Roarke's free, I'd rather he was my escort." He sighed wistfully. "What a letdown. I coulda been the proud owner of Kelly's Jewel…"
"Oh, but there's that helicopter problem," Leslie reminded him, and he gave her a sour stare. "Think about it, Mr. Kelly, you probably got off really lightly. Once you'd taken actual possession of that island, Kelly's Jewel would've had to be renamed Kelly's Jail."
Cornelius squeezed his eyes shut and groaned aloud. "Get me outta here, Mr. Roarke," he moaned pleadingly.
"Me too, while you're at it," Alphonse grumbled. Roarke obliged, visibly fighting his amusement all the way out the door, and winked at Leslie just before departing.
THE END
