Paradise Crime Thrillers Box Set

by Toby Neal

  Sophie peered around Lei’s shoulder as her friend held up her badge. “Got some questions for you, Dr. Taggart.”

  “Let me get into something more appropriate.”

  Taggart shut the door.

  “I still think Magnuson was just trying to shift the blame, point a finger,” Sophie said, as Lei and Pono waited. She’d asked to come along, feeling responsible for this whole new layer of the investigation—and because she couldn’t really believe that the man she’d kissed in the bar was a cold-blooded murderer.

  Could she have been this wrong about Taggart?

  Sophie was so bad at reading people…she should get back behind her computers where she knew a cable from a byte.

  Several more minutes went by. Pono banged on the door with his fist. “Dr. Taggart!”

  A scuffling noise came from deep inside the apartment, then the bang of a door—or a window?

  Pono’s brown eyes widened as he looked at Lei. “I think we have a runner. Let’s split up and go around the building while Sophie stays and holds the position here, since she’s not armed.”

  “Do not engage with the suspect, Sophie,” Lei yelled over her shoulder, leaping toward the stairs with Pono right on her heels. “I’ll go right, you go left,” she directed her partner. They pelted downward as Sophie took Pono’s place. She pounded on the door. “Open up. Maui Police Department!”

  No weapon. No badge. She was just a hireling with no authority, no clout, along for the ride because her friend let her come.

  Sophie blew out a breath. Leaned her forehead on the door. She was so tired and so frustrated. She shouldn’t have had that second beer with Jake. If she were an FBI agent she wouldn’t be standing here, a placeholder, while MPD chased the suspect!

  The door opened suddenly, and Sophie stumbled, falling forward, as the door was yanked wide.

  “Sophie!” Taggart’s eyes flew wide. “What the hell!” He shoved her out of the way, throwing her against the doorframe as he plunged past her.

  No way was Brett Taggart getting away from her.

  Sophie spun and bolted after him, ignoring a twinge from her ankle and yelling over the railing to Lei and Pono, “MPD! Suspect fleeing on foot!”

  She chased Taggart down the stairs, and as he reached the bottom, launched herself into space to grab onto the backpack he wore, evidently what he’d been packing in some back room. Her weight, landing on him, threw him forward. Taggart stumbled and went down, sprawling on the concrete sidewalk, flattened beneath her. Sophie twisted one of his arms up behind his back in a restraint hold as she straddled his hips. “Don’t you move.”

  “What are you doing here, Sophie? I thought you were on Oahu,” Taggart panted. “My god, woman, you’ve got an arm on you.”

  “What are you trying to do, Taggart? You idiot. Did you really think you could get away from us?”

  Taggart seemed to sag, lowering his head to the cement and breathing out a long sigh of defeat. “It was worth a shot. And you crushed my cigarettes.”

  Taggart rolled his big shoulders uncomfortably in the interview room, looking down at his handcuffs as if he wondered how they had gotten there.

  Sophie, seated in the observation booth at Maui Police Department at Kahului Station, was beginning to feel like the dim, narrow space was a second home—except for the musty smell, which had brought on a case of the sniffles. She blew her nose on a tissue and took out her phone as she waited for Lei and Pono to come and interview Taggart. They were currently searching his backpack, and Sophie suspected it wasn’t just filled with personal items.

  Taggart had requested a lawyer, and Sophie observed as a very fit woman wearing a chunky amethyst necklace entered to speak with him.

  She looked back down at her phone and composed a text to Connor. “Things got hot over here with my case—we’re interviewing new suspects. I’m hoping Bix gives the Miller security job with Jake to someone else, so I can come back to Oahu.”

  She didn’t know what else to say, how to end the sentence, so she just hit Send.

  What did she want to say? That she missed him?

  Because Sophie did miss Connor, a hollow ache that felt strange and unfamiliar, a perpetual gnaw like the bite of hunger. It wasn’t even that she imagined being back in his arms; it was more that there was a sense of something missing. Something essential.

  She shied away from what that might mean, and looked up as Lei and Pono entered the interview room.

  The lawyer introduced herself as Davida Fuller. Pono apprised Taggart of his rights, and turned on the recording equipment.

  “I can explain.” Taggart smiled, the charming grin that Sophie remembered upon first meeting him. “I didn’t kill Mano. You alibied me out before, remember?”

  “Then why did you run?” Lei pinned him with her patented bad cop stare.

  “You surprised me at my door, in my home.” Taggart made a little shooing motion with his hand. “I need a cigarette. Any chance…”

  “No chance. You ran from us, and your backpack has some very interesting contents.”

  Taggart shrugged.

  “Your backpack was full of artifacts.”

  “All legit. I was transporting them for my company.”

  “You were stealing those artifacts, and Mano blackmailed you about it. We found your name on the blackmail list in Mano’s computer.”

  That wasn’t true. Sophie frowned. They would have been on Taggart much sooner if his name had been there.

  As if to confirm Lei’s provocative comment, Taggart leaned forward and rubbed his eyes, pointing to the lawyer beside him. “Got any advice for me?”

  “No comment. You say no comment. They’re just fishing. They have to prove anything you don’t tell them.”

  Taggart turned back to Lei and Pono. “Well, if you want the truth, I had a little weed in the apartment, all right? And no medical card. So, I put it in my pack along with some artifacts I was taking to the office.”

  “We found the weed. It’s a misdemeanor. Why wouldn’t you just sit and talk with us for a few minutes, instead?”

  Taggart rubbed his lips. “I really need a cigarette.”

  “Filthy habit,” Fuller said. She turned to face the detectives. “Running away is not a declaration of guilt, contrary to popular opinion.”

  “He resisted…”

  “A private security operative who was masquerading as a police officer? My client distinctly heard her call out, “MPD” and she is not in the MPD.”

  Sophie’s mouth went dry. She had called out MPD in order to alert Lei and Pono to Taggart’s runaway; now it was being used against her.

  “We think these artifacts are stolen and that’s why you ran from us,” Lei said. “You knew we had figured out that Mano was blackmailing you, and that you had motive to kill him.”

  “It was just the weed. I swear.”

  “No comment,” Fuller said loudly. She stood up. “And now, if you don’t have any further questions for my client, we’ll be going.”

  “No you will not.” Lei ignored Fuller, focusing on Taggart. “We checked with your archaeology company. The items we confiscated from your backpack were never logged in anywhere. We are placing you under arrest for the stealing of important relics from the State of Hawaii.”

  Fuller turned to him. “This is minor. We’ll get you out on bail as soon as you have a hearing.”

  Taggart’s cynical dark eyes widened, and real apprehension showed in them for the first time. “No. I didn’t steal those artifacts. Yes, they weren’t logged in, and I know how it looks. Hence the desire to hotfoot it back to headquarters and log them in.”

  Fuller sat down. “Do you want to tell them anything more? Because it will be used in the case against you for stealing the artifacts.”

  Taggart narrowed his eyes. “We both know that’s just an excuse to hold me so they can search my apartment and computer, try to find something connecting me to Mano.”

  Lei leaned forward. “So why don�
�t you save us all some hassle and tell us about that? I’m sure hitting him was a heat of the moment kind of thing. The man was a scumbag. Perhaps he threatened you, asked for more money? Perhaps you found out that he sold the GPR report to Blackthorne?”

  “He did?” Taggart’s brows drew together. “He really was a scumbag, blackmailing people. Selling out the GPR report. But I didn’t know any of that. I never saw him that evening, I swear. I wish I had a better alibi, because I was alone, paddling my canoe—but it’s the truth. And please, take those relics to my company and ask Peggy, our VP of Operations, to log them in. I was getting sloppy, is all, and it bit me on the ass. And now I’m done talking.”

  Dr. Brett Taggart folded his arms and sat back, and he really was done talking. Nothing Lei or Pono tried after that worked to get him to say anything but, “No comment.” Sophie felt sad and deflated as she watched the archaeologist be led away to booking.

  How had she been so wrong about him?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sophie got into her rent-a-car and headed out from Kahului Station. The Ford Fiesta had little acceleration power, exactly how she felt, thinking about the interview with Taggart. How had she been so wrong about him?

  He’d lured her into believing in him with his jokes, with his insouciant, friendly manner.

  She had helped solve the case. It was now on Lei and Pono to find evidence linking Taggart to the body more definitively.

  She checked her phone. A text had arrived from Connor: “I talked to Bix. He needs you on the Maui job, no one available to cover. I guess that we will just have to endure the separation…I miss you already, damn it. So does Anubis.” He had attached a picture of the Doberman with his head on his paws, his eyes drooping sadly, his ears comically out to the side, an expression Sophie had never seen on the alert guard dog. She snorted a laugh even as her heart squeezed.

  “I miss you too.” The words were inadequate to describe the empty, numb feeling that was almost a sensation in her body, an ache and a weariness that reminded her of depression, but was topped by a fillip of longing.

  “Take precautions. Warn Jake about the threat against you and stay close to him,” came back from Connor.

  Sophie frowned. “No,” she said aloud. Jake didn’t need to get any more stressed out than he already was with the Miller job. She’d be safe on that armed, alarmed compound, in a guest room next to Jake’s. The last thing she needed was an overprotective man hovering and ordering her around.

  Kahului was a snarl of stop-and-go traffic. Portly tourists from the cruise ships parked in the harbor made their sweaty way along the sidewalks. Motor scooters whizzed by homeless people pushing shopping carts. Other than a preponderance of pickup trucks and cars with surfboards on them, Maui’s largest town could have been anywhere in Southern California—except for the coconut palm trees waving in the constant breeze along the thoroughfare.

  Sophie pulled into Shank Miller’s lush compound’s driveway in Wailea. At the familiar stone obelisk, she told her business and was admitted.

  Jake came out of the outbuilding that held the rock star’s home gym. Shirtless, in loose-fitting sweats, he’d clearly been working out. He pumped a twenty-pound dumbbell as he approached her, and the noonday sun was kind to his gleaming musculature.

  Following Jake out of the workout room was a six-foot tall man with long black hair past his shoulders, wiry arms covered in full sleeve tattoos, and white skin marked by a rosy flush of exertion and sunburn.

  “Dude. Who is this goddess?” The man’s grin was appreciative as Sophie got out of the Fiesta. A gap where a canine tooth should have been lent a piratical look to his face, an impression enhanced by the gold hoop in his ear.

  “Sophie, meet Shank Miller,” Jake said, gesturing to the rocker with the dumbbell. “Lead singer of the band known as Shank.”

  “Hello. I’m Jake’s partner.” Sophie shook the rocker’s hand. “I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with your work, but I am pleased to meet you.”

  “Not familiar with my work, huh? I’ll have to give you a CD.”

  “Thank you, but I usually listen to classical. You were away last time I came by your home. I hope Jake isn’t working you too hard in the gym.”

  Miller flexed a ropy arm, and his tattoos rippled like fabric. “He’s doing the best he can with this pasty boy from Seattle. I’m going to have a pumped-up body any day now. I’ve promised my manager.” He winked. “Going shirtless now just scares the girls.”

  “Your chest is a little underdeveloped, but I’m sure there are some women who like that tortured artist heroin addict look,” Sophie said.

  A shocked pause, then Miller tipped his head back and laughed. “Contrary to how I appear, I’ve never been into drugs, but clearly I need to get back to my workout and take in a few more calories. Gimme that weight, Jake.” Miller took the dumbbell and pretended to tip over from the heaviness. “This tortured artist needs feeding. Antigua!” Miller bellowed as he headed for the house, attempting the arm curls Jake had been doing. “I need food!”

  Jake grinned at Sophie. “Welcome to Hale Kai when the king is in residence.”

  “He’s funny. I like him.” Sophie turned and reached in to grab her duffel bag.

  “You called him a tortured artist who looks like a heroin addict!” Jake was still grinning as he led the way to their guest bungalow. “Told him his chest was underdeveloped. I’m going to have a field day using that one to motivate him in the gym.” He rubbed his hands together in glee.

  “Oh, I shouldn’t have said that.” Sophie let Jake unlock the door and usher them into the tidy, compact space inside the cottage. “It was tactless of me.”

  “Ya think? It was priceless. Thank you for the laughs.” Jake gestured past the small living area filled with a couch and flat screen TV to a pair of closed doors down a short hallway. “Yours is on the left. Want to catch me up on your case?”

  “Yes. A lot broke on the case after you left me at Kakela.” Sophie chucked the duffel on the bed, but kept her large messenger bag filled with computer equipment. “Where’s the security command center? I can get started setting up the nanny cam software.”

  Jake had put on a shirt and rejoined her in the living area. “It’s inside the main house. But seriously, you can take a load off for a few. Have a beer.” He popped the top on a Longboard Lager, and handed it to her.

  Sophie dropped the computer case onto the couch. “I presume Mr. Miller is a casual employer.”

  “You presume right.”

  Sophie took a sip of the lager and glanced out the nearby picture window. The guest cottage faced the back corner of the property that backed up to the beachfront mansion, and Sophie looked over the high cement wall separating the houses—but in the second floor of Long’s house, all the lights were on, and she could see inside.

  Two husky movers were carting a piece of furniture out of the room. She pointed with the neck of the beer. “What’s going on over there?”

  “I checked with the realtor when I saw a lot of activity going on. Mr. Long is putting the house up for sale.”

  Sophie frowned, wondering at the timing. She took a sip of the lager, but she didn’t really want this beer. She forced her attention back to Jake. “So they arrested Brett Taggart,” she said. “After Pomai Magnuson pointed a finger at him. I feel really bad that I so misjudged him. Looks like he was stealing artifacts, probably selling them on the black market.”

  Jake stretched his long legs out and put his feet on the seat of the chair in front of him. “But does that make him a murderer?”

  Sophie shook her head. She set the beer down. “I don’t know. I’m having trouble seeing it. I’m actually having trouble seeing him as an artifact smuggler either. He seemed to care so much about the site, and his job. But he is brash and cocky, and probably doesn’t like following the rules.”

  “You wouldn’t know anyone else like that, would you?” Jake tipped his bottle toward her with a grin.

>   Sophie smiled. “I guess I would, now that you mention it.”

  She was so relieved that the tension between them had lifted. She looked around the cottage. It was small, but artfully decorated with mirrors and a few ocean landscapes that helped create an open, airy feel. Hopefully she and Jake would have enough room to stay out of each other’s space.

  Jake finished his beer as Sophie unpacked, putting her few clothes away in the small bureau and setting up her laptop on the desk in the corner. She returned to the main room. “Show me to the command center.”

  The security center of the house was located in what must have been a den at one time: an air of masculine retreat remained, fostered by a pair of deep leather armchairs, a small pool table, and a flat screen TV that took up most of one wall. But there the resemblance ended. Jake had set up a bank of monitors on a table along another wall, and they cycled through views of the property from various angles. A young Hawaiian man looked up as they entered and gave her the shaka hand signal. “You must be the tech expert Jake has been waiting for.”

  Sophie shook his hand, introducing herself. “Where are the camera nodes for the nanny cam software?”

  “I was hoping you could use all of these current views and camera positions to feed in,” Jake said. “It took me and Ronnie here a week to put up all of these cams and network them.”

  “They look good at first glance. We can use all of that, and put in more or different positions if we’re not getting enough data. Where is Mr. Miller, currently?”

  “In the gym.” Ronnie tapped a sensor screen in front of him and pulled up one of the squares. The monitor immediately filled with a view of a panting Miller doing sit-ups, a pair of headphones wrapped around his ears.

  “I have him put on a tracking bracelet as soon as he gets to Hawaii,” Jake said. “We have tracking software and the video cams tuned to his signal, so we can find him anytime he’s within range.”