“Well, that’s interesting.” Okay, stupid, but it was the only thing I could think of at the time. But the good news is the ball was rolling again. With the turmoil behind us, Willie must have felt compelled to fan the flames with more details.
“It’s like this. Trinity was holding back Juliana’s pay.”
“We already knew that,” I said. “She was holding back on all of you, yah?”
“We hadn’t heard about the blackmail, though.” Chance leaned back in his chair, a smug grin on his face.
If he knew something, he wasn't sharing. Then, I had a moment of clarity. A single thought drowned out all others—lies beget lies. I asked, “What could Trinity have on Juliana that would keep her from going to the cops? If my boss held back my pay, then tried to blackmail me—I’d report him right away. And don’t tell me it was this whole government conspiracy theory thing. I don’t buy it.”
“I don’t know." She shrugged before continuing. "I wish I did. When I walked into the office the Friday before Trinity died, I overheard her and Juliana. They were going at it something terrible. Juliana made threats, but I never thought she’d follow through.”
“What kind of threats?” I asked.
“She said she hoped Trinity would suffer a slow, lingering death. After we heard how Trinity died, I—you know.”
“No, I don’t.” Leilani glanced at Maisy before fixing Willie with those angry eyes. “We don’t get it. Why don’t you explain, Willie? You’re always so demanding. Well, now we want an explanation.”
I couldn’t have said it better myself. We—the collective we in this case—all had questions. It appeared Juliana’s friends were no longer laying down for Willie. The time to play nice was over.
Willie let out a puff of air, obviously frustrated. “I—I don’t know. It just all sounded so—so personal. I felt like I was dirty for listening in. I rushed out before they knew I was there. I watched from down the street until Juliana left, then gave it another five minutes before I went back.”
“Was Trinity upset?” Chance asked.
“She was on the phone. Full-blown rant. Whatever the other person said calmed her down. She told me to wait. I hung around until she finished up. Then she told me Juliana needed to be replaced. I assumed she meant she’d fired her, so I asked. I got the impression Juliana couldn’t be gone soon enough to suit Trinity.”
“Willie, did you get paid or not?” I asked.
“She tried to put me off, but I was desperate. I told her no way and put up a stink. She finally gave in and pulled a wad of cash out from a small safe. Said that’s how she liked to handle things.”
“You didn’t tell anyone else Trinity could pay if they pushed hard enough?” Chance asked.
“Juliana. We were at the bar. I thought she’d go off the deep end. Instead, she was so…cold. She said she knew exactly how to handle problems like Trinity. Her drink came and she walked away. Just left me to sit with these two.”
Leilani smirked as she gazed at me. “I’ve never seen Willie dumbstruck before. That moment’s going to stick with me for a long time.”
“Lei!” Maisy’s jaw dropped. She tried to maintain her composure, but after a moment, she giggled. “You’re right, it was awesome. I’ve never seen Willie totally speechless before.”
Willie scowled at her fellow nannies, but she said nothing.
“Did Juliana say anything to either of you before she left?” I asked.
It was Leilani who took the lead. “Willie’s right, Juliana had this stone-cold look on her face when she came over. You could tell she was faking the laugh and having a good time. She finished her drink and left. It was—what—about nine?”
Maisy chimed in. “A little later, like, 9:15 maybe?”
“So, do you think she was mad because Willie got paid and she didn’t?” I asked.
Leilani drained the last of her wine. “Juliana was way beyond mad. You could see it in the way she moved. She was just rigid and couldn’t get out of here fast enough.”
“She did say something,” Maisy leaned forward and planted her elbows on the table.
Leilani stared at her friend. “When? I didn’t hear it.”
Chance gestured at the women’s drinks, but they all shook their heads. “Was it about Trinity Kraft?”
“Kinda. She was so not herself that night. I thought it was, like, something we’d done.” Maisy's head bobbed up and down as she spoke. “She told me Trinity was a total worm and needed to be squashed. Then, she said she wanted to make her suffer. Right then, I was sure Juliana could have, like, killed Trinity and not even given it a second thought.”
“This was the week before Trinity died?” All along I'd felt like we could always fall back on a crime-of-passion defense. But, if Juliana had time to plan, the crime would have been premeditated. This was getting worse by the minute. What hope did she have?
“I’m sure she calmed down,” Willie said. “Right? She used to be a nurse. She knew how to handle pressure.”
Leilani’s face was splotchy and her lips formed a grim line. “She called me a couple of days later to see what happened after she left. When I told her, she got real quiet again, then said she’d take care of the problem. When I asked her what she meant, she told me to forget we talked. I didn't think she was going to let it go.”
“How much of this do the cops know?” I asked.
“Most of it,” Leilani said.
“I didn’t hold anything back,” Willie said.
Maisy leaned into Leilani. “I didn’t, like, tell them about my talk with Juliana.”
“I doubt they’ll need that,” I muttered. One thing was sure, if Juliana hadn’t killed Trinity Kraft, she’d dug herself a pretty deep hole.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
By the time we finished with the nannies, I was contemplating the different ways to break the bad news to Kai. I kept coming back to the same conclusion. There was no easy way to tell the kid her nanny was a killer.
On the way home, Chance and I were reviewing what we’d learned when Alexander called. I suspected more bad news but answered anyway. “What’s up?”
“Bet you ain’t seen the news. The cops released some details. It was an anonymous call that tipped ’em off about Trinity. They’re also callin’ Juliana a suspect.”
“You mean a person of interest. We don’t have suspects anymore.”
“Ain’t no difference, yah?”
When I disconnected the call, I told Chance what had happened. A somber pall smothered the rest of our drive. In a way, I felt sorry for Chance. This was his second case and he had a client who appeared guilty.
I told Chance I was exhausted and needed sleep when he dropped me off. It was true, but what I needed was inspiration. For some reason, I couldn't give up. I wouldn't—couldn't—fail Kai. What scars would mark her life because of me? Chance probably felt the same. By the time I was ready for bed, I wanted to do nothing more than take my bottle of tequila to his apartment and down shots until we fell into drunken stupors.
I must have fallen asleep quickly because the next thing I knew it was 3:14 a.m. Rain pattered outside. One of our middle-of-the-night showers. So cool. So common. And relaxing. In fact, the rain often drove me deeper into sleep, but tonight I had to go to the bathroom. I stumbled out of bed, did my business, and then lay in bed listening to the pitter-patter of water slapping against birds of paradise, ginger, and broadleaved plants in the courtyard.
Soon, my eyelids drooped…
The ocean surrounds me. I’m on a surfboard. Waves. Large. I roll. Almost fall off.
Another wave washes over the board.
I carom off the next. Like a cue ball on a moving pool table.
The ocean flattens. No more waves. Just…calm. Is this Kimu taking control?
I scan the menagerie. A Honolulu PD patrol boat approaches. It’s filled with men and women milling about. They talk and point at what's behind them. A barge. It's huge. At least three times the size of the litt
le boat. The procession makes slow progress.
Atop the barge is a hangman’s gallows. A black hood hangs from one of the posts.
Juliana appears, a rope around her neck.
The barge disconnects from the patrol boat and a dozen bare-chested men begin to row forward. They all wear matching black pants and hoods.
Dozens of surfboards trail the barge. A court reporter, her stenographer’s machine perched in front of her, sits on a long board polishing her nails. A man stands behind her, straddling the board as he paddles. The procession grows. There are white coats everywhere.
“Pretty impressive, McKenna.”
I almost fall into the water at the sound of Kimu’s voice. “Would you stop that? Can’t you just make a normal entrance?”
“I keep tellin’ you, McKenna, you control dis.”
Right, like I want to watch Juliana hang. I twist sideways. My board rotates until I’m facing Kimu. “What are you wearing?”
“Judge’s robe. You like?”
The robe is kelly green, the same color as Kimu’s favorite board shorts, which is what he wears underneath. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re the judge?”
“Thanks fo’ da promotion. Guess I’m da jury, too. But, you—you da executioner.”
Icy chills course through me. The gallows—the black hood. It's gone. A surge of water rocks my board. I look down. Red swirls fill the water. Worse, the hood is now lying in front of me on my board.
“What's that supposed to be?” A small wave splashes across my board, soaking the black material.
Kimu’s voice is matter-of-fact. “Sorry, brah, but you know you gotta wear it.”
A shark’s head emerges from the water. Its maw gapes at me. The shark swims toward the gallows and begins to circle, its dorsal fins foreshadowing a vicious death.
“Meet da prosecutor. You gotta work dis one McKenna. No easy answer dis time.”
"Easy? You never make this easy! Now you’re ramping up the game?”
“Nevah say nevah, McKenna. You gonna put dat on?” He points at the hood in my hand.
How did it get there? I try to throw it away, but can't. It's like the thing is glued to my skin.
The menagerie continues to grow. There have to be twenty deputies on surfboards loaded down with cardboard boxes. This is an entire courtroom on water. Between the surfboards…the barge…the nannies. Tom and June Palakiko. They're all here. Even Haku. Cousin Carl is here, too, attired in his white coat and flowered board shorts.
“She hasn’t even been arrested.”
He points at the gallows. “You think she guilty, yah?”
I groan as the procession assumes a semblance of order.
“Ain’t no time fo’ indecision, McKenna.”
Kimu gives the rowers a thumbs up. In unison, they strike the barge with the ends of their paddles. Once. Twice. Three times. My heart races. The trial is beginning.
A deputy in full uniform standing on a board next to the court reporter calls out. “Court’s in session.”
Juliana balances on top of the gallows, her position precarious. It looks like she might jump to end her agony. All eyes turn to Kimu.
“Bailiff. Tell da prosecutor to quit showin’ off.”
One of the rowers tosses his paddle to the bailiff. He slaps the water’s surface with the blade, then throws the paddle back to the rower. The shark glides to a stop. He holds a steady position and watches Juliana struggle to keep her balance. I swear I see a pink tongue flick in and out of his mouth.
Kimu speaks in a loud, authoritative voice.”Da state made a good case. You got anything to prove dis lady ain’t da killer, McKenna?”
“What? I haven't even heard the evidence. And when did I become her attorney? I can’t be responsible for her defense and her execution.”
“Looks like you made them the same. Yah? You got hired by a little girl to save her friend. You sayin’ you failed?”
That’s who’s missing. Kai. I search in every direction. My board spins in frantic circles as I scan the horizon. There. Riding a huge wave next to a man. They ride hard. Fast. They’re deep in the curl. The wave must be twenty feet high.
A flock of black-winged birds skims the water’s surface behind them. The birds are cormorants. They're harmless in nature, but these giants have wings spanning three times the size of anything I’ve ever seen. They're big enough to take out a man on impact. They look like…birds of death.
The wave is growing by the second. It pushes the surfers forward. The birds of death ride an invisible air current above them.
The ocean surface shifts as the wave grows to forty feet. Even the barge is bobbing with the incoming wave's force.
“Kimu! You have to stop this. We’ll all be killed!”
“Then you bettah do somethin’, McKenna.”
The birds rise, then glide overhead. They circle high into the sky, then the first dives.
June Palakiko has a look of horror on her face. Juliana yells at Kai to turn away even as the barge tilts to one side. Kai screams back, but I can’t hear her over the wave. It's like thunder rolling in. She jerks her thumb for me to move everyone aside.
Juliana teeters on her unsteady perch. One of the cormorants buzzes her head. Another throws her further off balance. She’ll hang before there’s a verdict.
The rest of the flock dives. The first bird slams into one of the deputies loaded down with boxes. The stack topples into the ocean as the bird beats its wings and flies away with one box. Another dive bombs a deputy.
Everyone will die unless I do something. The monster wave sucks the entire courtroom toward the pocket. There's no time left.
I scream at the top of my lungs. “There’s another witness!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I sat on the bed staring into the darkness, heart pounding, my skin slick with sweat. I felt stupid. My neighbor, Mrs. Nakamura, would have me committed if I kept yelling in the middle of the night. She was a former elementary school teacher, now in her late eighties. She tolerated no nonsense and I'm convinced she'd have held me back in first grade. Maybe more than once.
Outside, rain splatted against the plants and pavement. I drew on a pair of shorts and went to the living room. It was just after five. The first hints of dawn, nothing more than pale brushstrokes of pink and blue, traced abstract patterns across the cobalt sky. The sun wouldn't rise for another hour, and I'd never get back to sleep with so much adrenaline in my system.
I considered the dream while watching the colors brighten. My last words—were they true? Was there another witness? Who? I was no lawyer. This wasn’t an old courtroom movie. It wasn't as simple as turning around, and pointing my finger at—Kai’s surfing instructor.
He’s the one I’d seen in the dream. Kai and Carl had both mentioned him. Even June had said he was a solid role model for Kai. So why would I want to call him as a witness? Or did I want to implicate him?
Chance and I had assumed a woman killed Trinity Kraft. Everybody knew poison was a woman’s way to kill, not a man’s. Sherlock Holmes had proved that to the world. It might have been a deduction then, it had long since become fact—we assumed. Could the brilliant detective have been wrong?
I turned on my computer and began a search for statistics about poisonings. The results I found were for accidental occurrences, so I refined the search. A report from the FBI about homicide statistics wasn't much help either. It had the number of poisonings, but no breakdown of crimes committed by each sex. It was my search for “homicide statistics by sex” that turned up what I wanted.
The Department of Justice had the numbers proving more men used poison as a weapon than women. I sat back and thought about the statistics. Holy cow. What if Trinity’s killer was a man? According to the DOJ report, they probably knew each other. They might have even been lovers.
A figure walking toward the ocean, surfboard under one arm, captured my attention. The sky had lightened to a pale blue flecked with pink and off-white cl
ouds. The hardcore surfers, those who had jobs but no will to give up the sport, were in the water waiting for the sun to rise. The man on the beach was in no rush, though. He lived in Apartment 10 and could do this anytime he wanted.
Rushing out the door, I caught up him where the grass and sand bordered each other. “Morning, Chance.”
“Hey, McKenna. I’m just about to get in a few runs—I hope.”
“Mo bettah than a few falls, yah?”
“Right you are. What’s up?”
“Stop by and see me when you’re done. And think about this. What if Trinity Kraft was killed by a man?”
“A man? It’s poison.”
“I know. Just consider the option.”
“That would change everything. It would be huge.”
“Almost as big as the wave I rode last night.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll explain later. Hit the surf, buddy, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover today.”
I didn't see how many runs he made—if any, but about twenty minutes later, Chance was at my door, laptop in hand. “You got me, McKenna. What do we need to work on? And what was this wave you rode last night? You don’t surf.”
“In my dreams, Chance. I know how to solve the case—and I’m convinced Juliana is innocent. We just have to find a way to prove it.”
“Are we checking someone out? A new suspect?”
“Keawe Ferguson.”
“Who? Oh, Kai’s surfing instructor. What’s he got to do with any of this? I thought he was married with two kids?”
“He may not be involved at all. Or maybe he's in the center of things. Eye of the storm, you know? In my…" Oh, wait. I really didn't want to go into the whole dream thing. I cleared my throat. "I think he's another witness."
"And you suspect this because…"
Well, snap. Chance knew about the dreams, practically everyone did. I squirmed. "I might have had a dream last night."
He coaxed me on by rotating his hand in a lazy circle. "Whole story, McKenna."
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