“Sorry, but I’m not buying that as an excuse.”
“Who gave you that photo? I assume it was Gracie Ito.”
“She told me that Eric had a meeting with you the night he disappeared.”
“There was no meeting, I assure you. Eric might have been coming here to see me on his own. He never arrived.”
“Forgive me if I have a hard time believing you,” I said.
“Let me ask you a question, Mr. Rutherford. Why would I have ordered Eric’s death after having him beaten? Why not just kill him from the start?”
“Perhaps he refused to get the message, despite your butler’s considerable skills in hurting people.”
“A fair argument, but that’s not what happened,” Mrs. Akamu said.
“Is it possible your grandson ordered his death?”
Mrs. Akamu laughed.
“No one would have followed it. Nothing happens around here without my direction.”
“Yes, but Tavii is a member of the Akamu family. He will be the one to inherit the crown, so to speak. Maybe someone wanted to stay on his good side.”
“Tavii will only inherit what I allow him to inherit, and no one on my staff would be foolish enough to believe otherwise. That is true today. It was true five years ago.”
“Why did you fire Lee Walters but not hurt him too?” I asked.
“You have made some progress interviewing people. Good. I always liked Lee and I didn’t think he had anything to do with Eric’s plan to blackmail me. Still, one must be careful. I couldn’t take the chance by allowing him to continue under my employ. I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase, cut your losses. Lee made the wise decision that it would be better for him to pursue a new path than try to come after me. I would think that my compassion for Lee would have convinced you that I didn’t have Eric killed. If I was that ruthless, why kill one and not the other?”
It was a good point, but I said nothing.
“One more thing,” Mrs. Akamu continued. “Allow me to put forth a hypothetical story. Let’s suppose that there was another man under my employ who tried to betray me. Let’s also assume this happened many years before Eric’s disappearance. Perhaps I had one of my men rid me of this betrayer. Maybe I also had them take this individual and deposit him in the ocean several miles from shore. After such a successful endeavor, why would I then be so foolish as to bury Eric’s body on the island where it could eventually be found? Do you think that little of me, Mr. Rutherford?”
“Let’s move on to something else,” I said.
“Good.”
“Gracie Ito informed me that she overheard Eric arguing with a man on the phone the day he died. She said Eric called this person Stan, but Eric refused to tell her who he was and what the argument was about. Do you know anyone by that name?” I asked.
I saw Samson look at Mele Akamu out of the corner of my eye. She obviously did know Stan. Would she admit it, though?
“Ms. Ito said nothing else about that phone call?” Mrs. Akamu asked.
“No, only that Eric raised his voice, which she claimed he rarely did.”
“That is true. He was always calm, at least around me. It was one of his qualities that I admired,” Mrs. Akamu said.
“Do you know this man?” Mara asked, finally getting into the conversation.
“Yes, I know him. His name is Stan Cross. He thinks he’s a business competitor of mine,” Mrs. Akamu said.
“He thinks? I don’t understand,” Mara said.
“Stan Cross has been after me for years. He’s never gotten close. I always suspected that Eric might have tried to sell the information on my business to him. Mr. Rutherford just confirmed that.”
“Yet Eric was arguing with this man. Perhaps he changed his mind about working with Stan Cross,” I said.
“Or they were arguing over the price Stan would pay Eric. That’s the more likely scenario. Stan is well known for making promises he doesn’t intend to keep. I would have thought Eric would have known that,” Mrs. Akamu said.
“Is Stan Cross still in business?” I asked.
“Yes,” Mrs. Akamu said.
“If Eric originally agreed to sell the information to him but then backed out, it would be a powerful motive for Stan Cross to have killed Eric,” I said.
“It could also explain the discrepancies of how the body was disposed of,” Mara added.
I was about to ask for Stan Cross’ whereabouts when I heard the backdoor to Mrs. Akamu’s house open. I turned and saw Detective Josh Parrish and four uniformed police officers walking toward us.
Samson, the elderly butler, started for them. Did he intend to take them all on at once?
“Samson, it’s okay. Let’s hear what the good detective has to say,” Mrs. Akamu said.
Samson stopped in his tracks. Then he walked back to Mrs. Akamu and stood beside her chair. He was loyal, I’ll give him that.
“Mr. Rutherford, imagine seeing you here,” Detective Parrish said.
“Hello, Detective,” I said.
Detective Parrish turned to Mele Akamu.
“Mele Akamu, you and Samson Opunui are under arrest for the murder of Eric Ellis,” Detective Parrish said.
He then proceeded to read them their Miranda rights as two of the uniformed officers moved toward them with handcuffs. One of the officers tried to yank Mele Akamu to her feet, only for Samson to level him with a punch to the throat that was so fast I barely saw it. One of the other officers pointed his gun at Samson, while two more restrained him and put him in handcuffs. What was Mele Akamu doing during this struggle? She was smiling.
Mele Akamu stood on her own and turned to Mara.
“Ms. Winters, please contact Ruben Dalton for me and let him know what’s happened. Please also tell him that I wish for you to officially join our legal team.”
“I will,” Mara said.
One of the officers, apparently learning the lesson of his co-worker, politely asked Mrs. Akamu to put her hands behind her back, which she did. He then placed her in handcuffs.
“Cuff him too,” Detective Parrish said, and he nodded at me.
“What are the charges?” Mara asked.
“Obstruction of justice,” Detective Parrish said, and he walked up to me. “I told you to stay away from my case. Maybe this will show you that I’m not playing games.”
I said nothing.
“That charge will never stick,” Mara said.
“Maybe not, but he’ll still have the pleasure of spending the night in jail.”
“I’ll have him out within the hour,” Mara said.
“Perhaps, but that won’t stop me from enjoying hauling his handcuffed ass to jail,” Detective Parrish said.
You may be wondering if the detective’s harsh words enraged me. They didn’t. A bully’s main desire is to get a reaction out of you, and I was determined not to provide that. Besides, I knew Mara was correct. The charges would be tossed, and it wasn’t like this was the first time I’d gone to jail. It probably wouldn’t be the last.
“I’ll see you shortly, Mr. Rutherford,” Mara said.
“Thank you.”
“I’ll also phone your wife.”
“No need. She’ll find out soon enough.”
The officer tugged at my restraints and practically dragged me back toward the house. I saw Samson in front of me. He was being handled even rougher than I was. The police allowed Mrs. Akamu to walk without keeping a hand on her.
The meeting with Mele Akamu had certainly not gone the way I expected it to. The question was, where did this little adventure go next?
14
My Protector
Unfortunately, I can’t give you a description of the music I listened to on the way from Maui’s upcountry to the police station. The officers refused my request to turn on the radio. Just kidding, I didn’t ask that.
I recognized one of the officers from previous cases of mine. I knew he had a couple of kids and I inquired as to how they were doing. He said
they were well. All in all, it was about as pleasant of a drive to a booking as one can get.
As we pulled into the parking lot, I saw that Mara hadn’t followed my request and had instead phoned Alana. She was waiting for us outside the building. Our three vehicles pulled to a stop. Detective Parrish was in his own car. I was in another with two of the four officers. Mele Akamu and Samson were in the third car with the remaining officers.
Alana bypassed my car and headed straight for Detective Parrish. Fortunately, I heard the exchange since one of the cops pulled me out of the police car before she reached the detective.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Alana asked.
“This is a conflict of interest for you. I’m sure you know that.”
I won’t repeat what Alana said immediately after his comment. I will give you one clue. She told him where he could put his claim of a conflict of interest.
“He has the legal right to talk to whoever he wants,” she said.
“I don’t see it that way.”
Alana turned to the officer beside me.
“Release him,” she said.
The cop looked at Detective Parrish.
“Don’t even think about it,” Detective Parrish said.
Alana stepped closer to him.
“Listen to me, you smug asshole, you have no idea how difficult I can make things for you. Is this really the hill you want to die on?”
Detective Parrish didn’t immediately respond.
I started counting in my head. One, two, three, four.
“Release him,” Detective Parrish said.
I hadn’t thought I’d get past two.
The police officer, the one whose kids I’d asked about, whispered in my ear as he removed the handcuffs.
“Sorry about all this,” he said.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said.
Alana turned from Detective Parrish and walked up to me.
“I assume your car is still at Mele Akamu’s house.”
“Yes.”
“Let’s go get it.”
We started to leave when Mele Akamu called out to Alana.
“Detective Hu.”
Alana stopped and turned to her.
“Yes, Mrs. Akamu.”
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet Mr. Rutherford’s wife. You’re everything I heard you were and then some.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Alana looked at Detective Parrish again. For a moment, I thought she was going to extend him the middle finger, maybe even the middle finger from both hands. She didn’t. Instead, she gave me a quick, “Let’s get out of here.”
We walked across the parking lot and climbed into her car. She didn’t say a word until we got onto Hana Highway.
“I can’t believe that guy. What in the world was he thinking?”
“Interesting question. I’ve been trying to figure out his angle since that coffee shop meeting,” I said.
“Come to any conclusions?”
“He reminds me a bit of a co-worker of mine from the architecture days. The guy always tried to establish dominance from the start. If you pushed back, then you became enemy number one. I always thought it came from a place of insecurity.”
“Josh was always such a nice guy. What the hell happened?”
“Give someone a little power and their true personality emerges.”
“I can’t believe I allowed myself to get that heated. I wanted to punch him. No one locks up my husband but me,” she said.
I waited for her to laugh. She didn’t.
“No one locks up your husband but you? Are you referencing some type of bedroom bondage act I don’t know about?” I asked.
“No, I have no idea what I meant by that.”
“Ah, now it makes sense.”
“It does? I’d appreciate it if you’d enlighten me.”
“I expect you were yelling more at your father than you were at Detective Parrish. You have a lot of feelings bottled up,” I said.
“No, you’re wrong. I was yelling at them both. They’re both jerks.”
“Well then, I guess my diagnosis was incorrect.”
“Not completely.”
“Any idea what damning evidence Detective Parrish has on Mele Akamu and Samson?”
“I made some inquiries after Mara’s call. Apparently, Josh found an eyewitness to the murder. I don’t know who it is.”
Mele Akamu’s arrest certainly wasn’t a surprise, but I hadn’t seen it coming so quickly.
“No comment?” Alana asked.
“Sorry, just processing.”
“Looks like your work for her is over. I doubt she’ll be able to get herself out of this one.”
“She made some compelling points when I spoke with her this morning,” I said, and I told Alana about Mele Akamu’s argument that she’d never be so dumb as to bury the body on the island.
“She really gave you that hypothetical argument about dumping a man’s body at sea?” Alana asked.
“Yes, but she didn’t need to. I’d already thought of that idea before, especially since people have tried to get rid of me that same way.”
“Poe, you’re missing the point. I think she just admitted to committing a murder.”
“It’s nothing that would hold up, especially without a body.”
“I know that, but she still must trust you to tell you that story.”
“Trust me? No. She lied to me about her butler from the start. She told me he didn’t lay a hand on Eric Ellis and then I found photographic proof that he did.”
“Okay, but why is she trying so hard to convince you that she didn’t have Eric Ellis killed? She doesn’t need you to come up with other suspects. She and her lawyer can name anyone they want.”
“We need to find out who that eyewitness is,” I said.
“I’ll work on it when I get back to the office.”
“Why am I back to thinking Mele Akamu might not have done it?”
“Forget what I told you earlier when I said your work for her is done. It sounds like it’s just getting started.”
“Is there any way you can get me the name of the guy who found Eric Ellis’ body?” I asked.
“Ordinarily I would tell you to go through Josh out of respect to him, but not now. I’ll have the name by the end of the day.”
A pissed-off Detective Alana Hu can be a powerful ally. Detective Parrish, for whatever his reason, had made a bad play.
We were silent for the rest of the drive. Alana was probably consumed with thoughts on her father. Me? I kept flip-flopping on whether or not I thought Mele Akamu was guilty.
By the time we arrived at her house, I decided the only way to know for sure was to continue with my investigation. Was I worried that Detective Parrish would arrest me again? No, I wasn’t. I thought my intimidating spouse had put an end to that threat. I made a mental note to buy Alana flowers on the way home. After all, one must show appreciation for anyone who keeps them out of jail.
I thanked Alana for the drive, and we agreed to regroup later in the day. I retrieved my car, selected a playlist of songs by the legendary jazz musician, Charlie Parker, and pointed the little BMW in the direction of Kaanapali and the safe confines of my home. I’d only been driving a few minutes, though, when I decided to make a quick detour to Guy Livingston’s abode.
My brief moment under arrest made me think of him. I’d promised to look into his case, and never let it be said that Poe isn’t a man of his word. I found his Kihei-based home easily enough. He wasn’t kidding when he’d said it was small. That’s not a judgment on my part, rather a description of what his place looked like. The tiny home was jammed between two others that didn’t look much bigger.
I parked my roadster in front of his house. As I walked to his front door, I saw a blonde-haired teenaged girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, washing a Toyota pickup truck in her driveway. There was a surfboard leaning against the garage door a few feet away.
; “Nice board,” I said.
“Do you surf?”
I laughed.
“I’ve managed to stand up a few times, but I don’t think you can call that surfing. My wife on the other hand…”
“I’d ask if you were with the police, but you’re not dressed like them,” she said.
“No, I’m not. I imagine you’ve seen a lot of cops coming by lately. How well did you know the Livingstons?”
“I spoke to Mrs. Livingston from time to time, but I didn’t know her well.”
“What about Guy Livingston?” I asked.
“He seemed nice, but we didn’t really say much.”
“Any chance you saw anyone go into their house other than them?”
“The cops asked me that after Mrs. Livingston was killed. I never saw anyone over there but them.”
“Were you at home when she was killed? Did you hear the gunshots?”
“No, I was at work. My parents own a surfing school.”
“You teach tourists how to surf?”
“Try to. It doesn’t usually work.”
“Well, hopefully the tips are good,” I said.
“Sometimes yes, sometimes no.”
“Thanks for your help. I’m Poe by the way.”
“I’m Kari.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Kari.”
I excused myself and continued to the house. I punched the four-digit security code into the keypad on the front door. I heard the lock disengage and then let myself into the house.
The layout was as Guy Livingston had described. The front door opened to reveal an open floor plan, which consisted of a small living room and an even smaller kitchen beyond that. There was a sliding glass door at the far end, and I could see a lanai on the other side.
I walked through the living room and proceeded down a short hallway. There was a bathroom on the right side and then a single bedroom after that. The bedroom door was already open. I looked inside and saw a queen-size bed with a nightstand on each side. It was about fifteen feet from the doorway to the nightstand.
If the killer, presumably Guy Livingston, had been standing by the bed, and Mrs. Livingston had been a few paces inside the room, it would have been a shot someone could have made with their eyes closed.
Poe's First Law: A Murder on Maui Mystery Page 11