Free Diagnosis Murder: The Death Merchant by Lee Goldberg

people who never met him before," she said.
    "We witnessed his killing and identified his body for the police," Mark said. "We've sort of been drafted into this. Besides, we're on vacation. We have time. It's the least we can do to repay his hospitality. We'd really appreciate your help."
    "Did he have any close friends or lovers who might have known him better?" Steve asked.
    "I was his lover," she said matter-of-factly. "Off and on. So were lots of women."
    "Do you have their names?"
    She raised an eyebrow. "I didn't keep track of them. Why do you ask?"
    Steve shrugged. "Maybe one of them knows more about him than you do."
    "He didn't see many local girls. Most of them were tourists, single women only here for a week or two," she said. "Nothing serious. Vacation romance. You know how it is."
    "Oh yeah. Sure. Of course." Steve said in an offhand way, glancing at his dad. "Who doesn't?"
    "I've known Danny since he opened the restaurant four years ago," she said. "He started out renting the old Outrigger House after it went bust. I was his first hire. I've been his lover, off and on, ever since."
    "And you didn't mind sharing him?" Mark asked.
    "Danny never snuck around behind anyone's back," she said. "He always made it clear up front that his relationships were casual—no strings, no baggage, just good times. And that was okay, because they were. Great times. Danny knew how to treat a woman."
    "But it remained casual," Steve said. "You were never even tempted to leave your toothbrush?"
    "He's my comfort guy, the one I go to when my romances crash and burn, which they always do."
    The comfort guy. It sounded to Steve like something he could get into. He had a restaurant. He had beach house. How hard could it be? Steve wanted to ask Kamalei for some pointers, but instead he asked, "Did he ever talk about his past to you?"
    "All I know is that he came from somewhere in New Jersey, where he ran some burger joints, and that he hurt his knee playing high school football."
    "You weren't kidding when you said you knew him as well as we did," Steve said.
    "Who he is now is what matters," Kamalei said. "What difference does his past make?"
    "Interesting choice of words, considering..." Steve let his voice trail off, full of innuendo.
    "Considering what?" she asked.
    Steve just smiled. Unnervingly. Actually, he was still thinking about the possibilities of this Comfort Guy thing. But he doubted being the host of BBQ Bob's had the same allure as the Royal Hawaiian. Perhaps there was a recipe or two off those souvenir postcards he could re-create at his place.
    "Did you ever see Danny treat anybody else the way he treated us?" Mark asked. "Perhaps someone he might have known outside the restaurant?"
    "Besides the occasional liquor vendor or food rep? Just repeat customers, tourists visiting Kauai again and stopping in for another meal. Danny always made them feel like they were special guests who were sorely missed," she said, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?"
    Mark smiled reassuringly. "Like we said before, we're just looking for anyone who should be informed about his death, someone on the mainland, perhaps."
    "Didn't he have a will or something?" Kamalei asked.
    "Not that we know of," Mark said. "No lawyer or family members have come forward. Do you know who his attorney might be?"
    "No, but I know his accountant, Earl Ettinger up in Kapaa, and his banker, Arliss Brewer. They come in for dinner all the time."
    "Were they investors?" Mark asked.
    "Not Mr. Ettinger—he just likes to eat at a discount. But Mr. Brewer and the First Bank of Lihue held the mortgage on the restaurant," she said. "Probably on Danny's house, too. I think he liked to see how their money was doing."
    Steve tried to think of a way to ask his next question without putting Kamalei on guard, but there wasn't one, so he saved it for last. It was the question he asked so often in his work, he thought about having it printed on little cards