"His daughter keeps coming in here, having people look it over."
"And what do they find?
Timothy shrugged. "A drunk who fell asleep at the wheel. His car was found upside down in an irrigation ditch beyond the third bend past the sixth bridge on the Hana Highway."
I still hadn't opened the file. "Cause of death?"
"Respiratory failure due to aspiration of blood and fracture of the larynx due to the auto accident."
"Was his throat cut?"
Timothy shook his head. "It was smashed, not slashed. The pathologist said his jaw was broken twice. His tongue clogged his air passage."
"How bad was he boozed?"
"His blood alcohol was point-forty-two."
I was surprised. "The boy was pickled!"
Timothy grew confidential. "That isn't an unusually high count. Most Medical Examiners will tell you winos in doorways need a point-three-five or a point four-oh just to feel good." He shrugged. "You get a DB with a history of heavy drinking, somebody who can hold his liquor--. The rest is natural causes. If there had been foul play, don't you think the sheriff himself would have pulled out all the stops to find his murderer?"
I asked why.
"Roscoe Lawson was his brother."
I marveled at that. "So Ivy Lawson's the sheriff's niece? And Debra Lawson's his sister-in-law?"
Timothy kept nodding.
"One last thing," I asked. "Whatever happened to Roscoe Lawson's body?"
"It was cremated," Timothy said.
Stu Philips shook his head. "That lil' devil! She shouldn't say the things she does. Her claims are groundless, and her accusations are inaccurate and unjustified. Don't feel bad personally, Mister Bishop, but this investigation of yours is a waste of my taxpayer's money."
I stopped him. "This is not an official visit from the Federal Government."
"I understand. I feel for her, too. I took those accident reports and went over to the Sheriff's Office. We spent hours pouring over those pictures." He gestured behind him. "I have them in a drawer back there, and I can let you look at them. There was nothing there anywhere."
"Roscoe Lawson was a sailor in the Merchant Marine, right?"
"He was a cook," Stu clarified.
"How large was the insurance settlement?"
"Roscoe Lawson was a very frugal man--"
I interrupted. "And the widow got it all."
"The widow is supposed to get it all. That's how the will read. It's a shame Ivy doesn't get to share in the settlement, but it does happen all the time."
"And Debra Lawson bought the Paradise Bowling Lanes."
"She made a wise investment. She started her own business. She provides jobs in the community and she pays her taxes. It gives her a future to build upon and it keeps her busy today."
"She's new to Hawaii, right?"
"Three, four years. Look, Debra Lawson's a welcome part of the islands. She's warm, friendly and generous. She supports a softball team. She's even involved in local politics."
I perked up. "She's political?"
"She's been involved with Saundra Collins for several months now. They're both active in that campaign to recall the county sheriff."
"Her brother-in-law?"
"Her ex-brother-in-law. See, he's in favor of more hotels along the Kaanapali coast, and she's not."
"What kind of man is the sheriff? What kind of sheriff is he?"
Stu considered the question carefully. "Walter Lawson is progressive. Intelligent. Hard-working. He gets solid convictions, but he's also good behind the desk. The island's lucky to have him."
I found this all so interesting.
"Roscoe Lawson?" the shop foreman at Dougan's Wreckers Garage said. "Yeah, I remember his car. Yeah, there was nothing wrong with it." He shrugged. "I'll tell you what happened. A drunk rolled it over."
"Thanks," I said.
I found Flea laying about his office with a pint of Irish whiskey.
"You got it all solved?" Flea asked.
I said I did. "Corky's girl friend was married to the sheriff's brother. He died fishy and now they don't want the sheriff questioning the second kill."
Flea snickered into his whiskey.
I took away his bottle. "No more, Flea, until it's over."
Debra Lawson entered the bar at the bowling alley and found me nursing a beer.
I noticed her. "How ya doing, Mrs. Lawson?"
Debra was filled with cold fury. "What are you doing here!"
I was pensive. "D'you think Ol' Corky's got any misgivings about this scheme of his?"
"None at all," she snapped.