arrivals.
The crowd milled about the gate leading to the terminal. It seemed there were hundreds of people all trying to pass through at once. The Brewster family clung together, Monica clutching her mother’s hand.
Thomas Brewster looked carefully over the crowd.
“I don’t see Dr. Weber,” he said to Biff. “I thought surely he’d meet us.”
“Maybe he’s just late, Dad.”
Ted came up and touched Biff’s sleeve. “Look, Biff, see that man over there?” He pointed.
Biff looked in the direction Ted indicated.
“See, Biff, he’s taking pictures. He took several of you and Dad. I was watching him.”
Biff’s eyes met those of the man with the camera. He was a swarthy man, short, wearing a rumpled white suit.
“Gee, I guess Dad must be some sort of a celebrity, taking his picture and all,” Ted said excitedly.
Biff didn’t think that was the reason. The man didn’t look like a newspaper photographer on an assignment. His eyes shifted as Biff stared at him. The man made no attempt to get “just one more shot,” as official cameramen are apt to do. Biff started toward him, determined to find out why the man seemed to be so interested in photographing Mr. Brewster.
Seeing Biff approach, the man drew back, fading into the crowd. By the time Biff had forced his way to where the man had been standing, the picture-taker had disappeared.
Biff frowned. He hadn’t liked the man’s appearance, and his slinking away made Biff even more suspicious. Why had he taken the pictures? How had he known which of the arriving visitors was Mr. Brewster? Biff shook his head. The answer to that question might have some connection with the call his father had received from Dr. Weber.
He had better tell his father about the incident, Biff decided. He rejoined the family and was about to speak when Mr. Brewster raised his voice.
“Over here! Over here, Mr. Mahenili!” He waved to an approaching man who in turn waved back, calling, “Aloha, my friend. Aloha!”
It was Hanale Mahenili, a native Hawaiian with whom the Brewster family was to stay during their visit to the islands. Mr. Mahenili was the Hawaiian representative of the Ajax Mining Company.
Introductions were made, and with the smiling Hawaiian leading the way, the party entered the airport terminal.
Passing a newsstand, Mr. Brewster halted quickly. He strode to the newsstand and snatched up a copy of the Honolulu Star Bulletin. Biff stepped to his father’s side and read the eight-column headline over his shoulder.
CHAPTER V
Detective Biff
Thomas Brewster read the startling story hurriedly. Biff read along with him. The story was sketchy. There were few details. Dr. Weber had been scheduled to open the first session of the mining engineers’ conference the previous afternoon. The meeting had started, but Dr. Weber failed to appear. When the meeting ended, and Dr. Weber was still missing, the police were notified.
“Do you know anything about this, Hank?” Mr. Brewster asked Hanale Mahenili. “Hanale” was the Hawaiian form of the proper name, “Henry.” Among his business associates, Mr. Mahenili liked to be called Hank. His Hawaiian friends called him Hanale.
“Yes, my friend, I do,” Mr. Mahenili replied. “It is most sad, most frightening. In fact, I was the one who discovered his disappearance.”
“When and how?” Mr. Brewster’s voice showed his concern.
“Yesterday afternoon, at the opening of the conference.”
Tom Brewster turned to his wife. “Martha, why don’t you take Ted and Monica over to that bench and sit down? We’ll only be a minute. Biff, you stay with me. I want you to know what’s going on. Sorry, Hank, but I didn’t want my wife alarmed. Please continue.”
Biff felt highly pleased that his father wanted him in on whatever was happening.
“Well, Tom, when Johann failed to appear at his place at the speakers’ table, I thought at first he might have been detained, perhaps held up by traffic. Or that he might have been napping after lunch, and had overslept. He’s an old man, you know. And not too strong.”
“Yes. I know. We’ve all been worried about him. He still tries to do too much for a man his age.”
“I waited about fifteen minutes,” Hanale Mahenili continued. “Then I left the head table to go to his hotel. He’s been staying at the Royal Poinciana. On my way there, my fears that he had become ill increased.”
Mr. Mahenili paused, as if ordering his thoughts.
“Yes, yes. Go on.”
“At the hotel, I rang his room. There was no answer. I went to the desk, and they told me they believed the doctor was still in his room. He hadn’t left his key at the desk, which was his habit every time he left the room.”
“I’ll bet you were really worried then,” Biff said.
“I certainly was, young man. I called for the manager, and we went up to Johann’s room. The manager had a pass key, and, after knocking, we entered his suite.”
“And no Johann Weber,” Mr. Brewster said.
“That’s right, Tom. He has a two-room suite. He wasn’t in either room.”
“Was there any evidence that the room had been searched?”
Mr. Mahenili shook his head. “It was hard to tell. Papers on his desk were in a disordered mess. Two drawers in his bureau were pulled out, with clothing messed up, and a few things strewn on the door. But you know how careless Johann was. He was never one for neatness and order.”
“But it could have been someone else who had searched the desk, and pulled out the drawers,” Mr. Brewster said.
“Yes, it could. There was no way of telling definitely.”
“Sir,” Biff said. “Were you able to get any idea of when he had last been in his room?”
“No, Biff. We weren’t. I was coming to that. We questioned the elevator operators and the desk clerks. Both night and day clerks. None of them could remember when they had last seen the doctor.”
Biff’s brows were knitted in questioning thought. “Sir, I’d like to make a suggestion, or, rather, ask you this. Do you know if Dr. Weber usually had his breakfast in his room?”
“Why, the idea never occurred to us.”
“Good thinking, son,” Mr. Brewster said.
“And were the maids asked if his bed had been slept in the night before?”
Henry Mahenili gave a shrug of helplessness. “I’m afraid, young man, that you’re a far better detective than I am. No, the maids weren’t questioned.”
“Well, then, Dad – ”
Thomas
