Pitt stood there for a moment before he stepped back and motioned her in. Adrian Hunter swept by him into the apartment, turned, and threw herself into Pitt’s arms. She was shuddering and her breath came in choking sobs.
Pitt held her. “Adrian, for God’s sake.”
“They killed him,” she sobbed.
Pitt pushed her back at arm’s length and stared into her puffed and wet eyes. “What are you talking about?”
The words tumbled out of her. “I was lying there in bed with... with a friend. They came through the terrace window, three of them, so quietly we didn’t know they were even in the room until it was too late. He tried to fight with them but they carried funny little guns that made no sound. They shot him. God, they shot him a dozen times. His blood was everywhere. It was horrible.”
She trembled; Pitt steered her to the couch and held her tightly.
“I screamed and ran into the closet and locked the door,” she continued. “They laughed; they stood there and laughed. They thought I was trapped in the closet but it’s a two-way closet. It opens up into the guest bedroom. I grabbed a dress off a hook and escaped through the guest room window. I didn’t want to go to the police. I was afraid. I tried to call Daddy, but his office said he couldn’t be reached. By that time I was in a panic. I had no place else to go, no one to turn to, so I came here.”
She brushed at her eyes with her hand. She stood silhouetted against the light and Pitt could see she wore nothing beneath the muumuu. It’s a nightmare,” she whispered. “A dirty, wretched nightmare. Why did they do such a thing? Why?”
“First things first,” he said gently. “Get in the bathroom and fix your face. Your eye makeup’s halfway down your chin. Then you’re going to tell me who it was they killed.”
She pushed herself away. “I can’t.”
“Get wise,” he snapped. “There’s a dead body decorating your apartment. How long do you think you can keep it a secret?”
“I... I don’t know.”
“It’ll take the Honolulu police all of twenty minutes to put a make on him anyway. Why the martyr act? Is he a local celebrity with a wife and ten kids or what?”
“Worse. He’s a friend of my father’s.” Her eyes were pleading.
“The name,” he demanded.
“Captain Orl Cinana,” she murmured slowly. “He’s Daddy’s fleet officer.”
Pitt had enough sense to stay expressionless. It was worse than he thought He pointed toward the bathroom and simply said “Go!”
Obediently she padded to the bathroom, turned, and gave him a funny helpless smile and then closed the door. As soon as he could hear the sound of water splashing in the sink, Pitt reached for the telephone. He had better luck than Adrian. Five seconds after he told the 101st Fleet’s operator his name, Admiral Hunter was exploding on the line.
“What in hell’s the idea of not reporting to me?” Hunter charged.
“I was spun out, Admiral,” Pitt answered. “I would have been no use to you until I cleaned up and grabbed a couple of hours’ sleep. Which, thanks to your daughter, makes it impossible.”
When Hunter spoke again, it was in another voice. “My daughter? Adrian? She’s with you?”
“She’s got a dead body in her apartment She couldn’t reach you so she came here.”
Hunter paused for all of two seconds. Then he came back stronger than ever. “Give me the details.”
“From what little I can get out of her, it seems our friends from the Vortex walked in off the terrace and gunned the guy down. Adrian escaped through a double closet”
“Is she hurt?”
“No.”
“I suppose the police know about this.”
“Fortunately, she didn’t call them. As far as I know, the victim is still bloodying up her carpet.”
Thank God for that. Ill get our security people over there right away.” Pitt heard Hunter shout muffled commands over the other side of the line. He could easily visualize everyone within shouting distance jumping like frightened rabbits. He came back. “Did she identify the victim?”
Pitt took a deep breath. “Captain Orl Cinana.”