Murder of the Hula Dancers

by R. Barri Flowers

  "Makes sense and it's colorful," Dylan said.

  Renee sipped more wine. "Are the detectives working the cases any closer to solving them?"

  "That would be Detectives Kahana and Chung," he mentioned. "As far as I know they're working around the clock, more or less, trying to nip this thing in the bud." He paused. "Wish I had more to tell you, but I don't."

  So did she, but Renee didn't want to press him further and jeopardize what they had on a personal level. "You've told me plenty," she said. "I know now that the Maui PD is connecting the murders and hoping to take someone into custody before another hula girl is stabbed to death."

  "Yeah, that's about the size of it," he conceded. "Obviously, time is of the essence."

  He would get no argument from her there. "Why hula dancers?" she asked curiously.

  Dylan shrugged. "I don't know. Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe the killer is targeting them on a lark."

  "You think?"

  "Just a thought." He placed a hand on her knee beneath the table. "Maybe the killer sees hula dancing as dirty, dangerous, or disingenuous, triggering a homicidal impulse."

  Renee chuckled unnervingly. "You're good."

  Dylan smiled and nodded. "Hey, you asked. If you have other ideas, let's hear them..."

  The food came and Renee dug in, deciding the conversation was getting a bit too morbid for her comfort. That didn't mean she wouldn't continue to dig for any insight he might have into this and other cases.

  After the meal, they went to her place in Kapalua, a resort community in West Maui, and made love, not once, but twice, before getting dressed and returning to work.

  * * *

  Jonny Chung wasted no time taking his young lover to bed, knowing she enjoyed it as much as he did, if not more. When they were through with each other and catching their breaths afterward, they smoked a joint.

  Sitting on the sofa in Chung's living room beneath the ceiling fan that was drawing in muggy, warm air, Tatiana sucked on the marijuana cigarette and asked: "So what's she like?"

  Chung looked at her nice breasts and moved his eyes up to Tatiana's face. "Who?"

  "Your partner... Detective Leila Kahana—"

  He cocked a brow. "She's cool."

  "Have you slept with her?" Tatiana asked curiously.

  "No, we haven't gone there."

  "Would you like to go there?"

  "Where's this coming from?" Chung asked. "You jealous or something?"

  She batted her eyes. "Should I be?"

  "No." At least not about Leila, he mused, even if he had fantasized about his partner from time to time. But he wasn't about to admit that to the woman he was bedding.

  "Good," Tatiana said as she ran a long, red-nailed finger down his chest. "Actually, I think she's hot."

  Chung grinned, putting the joint to his lips. "Do you?"

  "Yeah. It might be fun to do a threesome with her."

  The idea of Leila having sex with them aroused Chung, but he didn't even pretend this was a line he could afford to cross. "That will never happen. Only in your dreams, baby..."

  "Too bad." She sighed and licked her mouth invitingly. "I guess that just leaves us to have all the fun by ourselves."

  He laughed. "I think I could live with that." But for how long, was anyone's guess. Right now, he was more than ready to get it on again.

  Chung kissed her deeply and let nature takes its course with more to come after that.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  She had let what he said go to her head.

  Then he took her to his bed, where they made love all day and well into the night.

  She had no idea where this would lead or if it was going anywhere. All that seemed important at the moment was that the sailor wanted her and she wanted him. So they had each other. Again and again.

  Never mind the fact that she was married with a young son. Her lover had ties too. But none of that seemed as important as the incredibly strong sexual appeal that drew them together like smoke and red-hot flames. Or ocean water and a sandy white beach when the tide came in.

  She was a hula dancer and loved making use of her many curves and bends and her deft ability to sway and swing her long arms, shapely legs, and long-toed small feet that beguiled audiences.

  Right now, she put all her magic and movements into seducing and being seduced by the handsome, sexy stranger who threatened to turn her life upside down. Or inside out. She hadn't figured out which yet.

  She wanted to go home. Yet she wanted to go as far away from home as possible. Which choice was right for her? And which was so very wrong?

  She turned to her Hawaiian ancestors for help. There was no sign that they heard her. Maybe they were too far gone to reach back to the land of the living. Or perhaps they had decided she had to make up her own mind, just as generations had before her.

  She needed to be strong and become free as a bird in going the way of the wind.

  There could be no hesitation. Could there?

  She sucked in a deep breath and went with her impulses, hoping they would not betray her.

  Even so, as she lay beneath her lover, she knew they already had. But the desires and possibilities were simply too strong to walk away from.

  So she didn't.

  * * *

  He carried two bags of groceries inside the cottage and then closed the door behind him. He had picked up a few things she liked, including dark roast coffee, chicken, and some fresh fruit and vegetables. After setting some of the items on the kitchen counter, he put the perishables in the refrigerator.

  She walked into the kitchen. "I didn't hear you come in," she said groggily, rubbing her eyes.

  That didn't surprise him one bit. Most of the time, she was either drunk or sleeping. And more often than not, it was both.

  By and large, he overlooked her shortcomings. After all, he had been taught to respect his mother, even if it went against every fiber in his being. It was the right thing to do, his father would say.

  "I tried to keep quiet, so I wouldn't disturb your beauty rest."

  She flashed her teeth. "You're such a good son."

  Not really, he thought, but responded politely: "I try. Father would want me to take care of you to the best of my ability."

  "And you're doing just that," she assured him happily.

  He looked at her, and in his mind saw an attractive, shapely woman who could still turn heads. Her dyed dark hair was long and thick. She was wearing a long blue muumuu dress and flip-flops. Though she was no longer hula dancing professionally, he knew it would always be a part of her.

  And him.

  "I got you some of that coffee you like," he told her.

  She frowned. "Did you get any wine?"

  He had hesitated to buy something that he knew wasn't good for her. But, in the end, he relented, knowing she had her ways of getting what she craved. And it was much better if he gave it to her, instead of some asshole out there who always sought something in return.

  He lifted a bottle of red wine from one of the bags. "I saved this for last..."

  He watched as her mouth watered. "Mahalo!" she uttered, practically snatching the bottle from him. "Will you have a drink with me?"

  Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, aware that his father would not approve, even if he too had taken to the bottle till his dying days, he offered his mother a comforting smile. "Sure, why not?"

  They drank the wine on the lanai and he fought back the dark images that flashed in his head. Now was not the time for them to appear.

  Instead, he would make the most of the time he had with his mother, fearing it would soon run out for both of them.

  * * *

  He went to work as an expert guide, giving his clients private tours of the island and its many wonders. Today's tour was in Central Maui, beginning with the 'Iao Valley, where they would explore a major island landmark, the 'Iao Needle, which rose 1200 feet above the 'Iao Valley floor and overlooked 'Iao stream. It was
during the hike and sightseeing of the tropical paradise that he routinely and proudly spoke about its fascinating history, which included the 1790 Battle of Kepaniwai, where King Kamehameha I fought the Maui army in hopes of uniting the islands, and won the battle, forever altering the destiny of Hawaii.

  After the tour ended, he got together with some friends for an impromptu jam session and some fire knife dancing. It was a good way for him to let off some steam. Unbeknownst to others, there was also an opportunity to practice various techniques with the knives, knowing it would serve him well when he needed to slice with precision into the tender flesh of the hula dancers who had shown total disregard for the aloha spirit of the Hawaiian dance form.

  For this, they had to die.

  And it was his duty to see this carried out, something surely his father, if not his mother, would approve of. May he rest in peace.

  It was a pity that peace could not come to him as well. Perhaps it was not meant to be as long as he had a purpose that was bigger than him, yet much more delicate and deceptively alluring.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  In the interrogation room, Leila sat across from Richard Yamashita, the last known boyfriend of Jackie Furomoto. The dark-haired, thirty-year-old Yamashita had a few minor run-ins with the law, but had shown no signs of violent behavior, according to friends. To Leila, this only meant that they couldn't reveal what he may have kept hidden from them. Not all violent persons were overt in their violence, except perhaps to the one it was directed toward.

  She considered that Jackie's ex may have had an axe to grind against her that only he knew about, leading to stabbing her to death. If so, how did Yoshie Akiyama fit into the picture? Could he have dated both of them at one time or another?

  "Mahalo for coming in," Leila told him casually, knowing that he had been picked up and told in no uncertain terms that it wasn't an option.

  Yamashita frowned. "I had nothing to do with Jackie's death."

  Leila wasn't moved by his denial, since virtually all guilty murderers initially declared their innocence. "What size shoe do you wear?"

  "Ten."

  She had hoped he would say size eleven, but Leila didn't rule out that the size eleven shoe print found at the crime scene where Yoshie's body was dumped may have belonged to someone other than the killer. Moreover, she couldn't rule out entirely that there might be more than one killer on the loose, which could mean that Jackie's killer wore a size ten shoe.

  "Show me one of your shoes," Leila ordered the suspect, just to verify the size.

  Yamashita took off a black chukka boot and handed it to her. She looked at it and saw that it was a size ten.

  "If the killer wears a size ten shoe, it wasn't me," Yamashita said nervously.

  Without commenting on that, she passed the boot back to him and asked: "Were you still seeing Jackie when she was killed?"

  "No, we broke up a few weeks ago," he answered tonelessly while slipping the boot back on his foot.

  She raised a brow. "Why was that?"

  "I met someone else." He sighed. "Look, Jackie and I weren't clicking anymore. For her, it was all about hula. I needed a person who was more into me, you know?"

  Leila could relate as she thought about some of the men she had been involved with prior to Maxwell. "Can you tell me where you were the night Jackie Furomoto was murdered?"

  "Yeah. I was with my girlfriend. Her name is Kelli Raffin."

  "I'll need to verify that," she made clear.

  "No problem. She'll back me up."

  Leila knew that so-called alibis lied for offenders all the time for one reason or another. But she had no reason to believe that was the case here. Not yet anyway. "Do you know Yoshie Akiyama?"

  "The hula dancer?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  "Nope. Never met her." He paused. "I do watch the news and I know someone killed her. You think it was the same person who killed Jackie?"

  "I was hoping you could tell me that," Leila said, turning the tables on him. "Do you know anyone who had a reason to want Jackie dead?"

  Yamashita stared at the question pensively before responding. "No one I can think of." After a moment, he added: "Actually, there was one dude that Jackie seemed to have a problem with... He's a fire knife dancer she worked with. Said he was infatuated with her and didn't always seem to know when to take no for an answer. Whether that means anything or not—"

  "You wouldn't happen to know his name, would you?"

  "I think his name is Hiram," Yamashita said. "But I don't what his last name is."

  "I'm sure we can find out." Leila regarded him and stood. "You're free to go now, Mr. Yamashita. If we need anything further from you, we know how to reach you."

  She left the room before him, planning to check out his alibi. For the time being, she was more interested in tracking down this fire knife dancer, who may have been fixated on Jackie and possibly Yoshie too. Similar to a sharpshooter, only with a knife, he would be capable of doing serious damage to the body which proved to be fatal.

  * * *

  Chung sat in front of Hiram Miyahira, a twenty-seven-year-old fire knife dancer. They had learned he was on the Aloha Hula Dance Company's list of entertainers and had performed with Jackie Furomoto.

  Chung glanced at Leila, who was sitting beside him. Then he focused on the suspect in the latest hula dancer death and asked brusquely: "Can we get you something to drink? Water?"

  Miyahira, who wore his dark hair in a short ponytail, gazed back at him behind glasses. "I'm good. I was told that you wanted to talk to me about Jackie Furomoto."

  "Yes, we're investigating her death," Leila said expressionlessly.

  He pursed his lips. "I hate that this happened to Jackie. She didn't deserve to die like that."

  "I agree," muttered Chung, sizing him up. "But she did. And we need help finding out who did this to her."

  Miyahira wrung his hands. "I'm happy to help any way I can, but I'm not sure what I can tell you that you probably haven't already heard elsewhere."

  "As a fire dancer, you're pretty good with knives, aren't you?" Chung asked.

  Miyahira sat back cautiously. "Sure, I'm good at what I do," he admitted.

  "Unfortunately, so was Ms. Furomoto's killer," Leila stated toughly. "And he showed his skills by cutting her up pretty badly."

  Miyahira's brows knitted nervously. "You don't think I killed Jackie, do you?"

  "We understand that you were obsessed with her," Chung said bluntly.

  "I wouldn't call it obsession..." he said with a catch to his voice.

  "Call it whatever you want," Chung hissed, peering at him. "I call it a motive for murder!"

  Miyahira swallowed thickly. "It wasn't anything like that."

  Leila leaned forward, keeping the pressure on. "What exactly was it like?"

  "I was very fond of Jackie and may have even been a nuisance at times, but only because I thought she was a hell of a hula dancer and I just wanted to see her reach her full potential."

  "So if she fell short of that, did you decide to end her life with one of your knives?" Chung asked.

  "No, definitely not! I always encouraged her in everything she did and I certainly never wanted to see her dead." Miyahira sighed. "We had a lot in common and, most times, it worked for us."

  "What did you have in common besides being performers?" Leila asked curiously.

  "We were both born on Maui, grew up here, followed in the footsteps of our parents as entertainers, and liked hot guys, but couldn't ever seem to hold onto them for any length of time."

  Chung glanced at Leila and back. "Are you saying...?"

  "Yeah, I'm gay," Miyahira said levelly.

  "Why didn't you tell us that sooner?" Leila asked.

  "I didn't think my sexual orientation mattered," he responded tartly. "I thought I was here to talk about Jackie, not myself."

  Leila nodded. "That's correct. And whether you're gay or straight doesn't matter. Platonic obsession can still lea
d to murder. What size shoe do you wear, Mr. Miyahira?"

  "Ten and a half." He met her eyes. "And the guy I'm seeing wears a size twelve, in case you're wondering. I suppose your next question is, do I have an alibi for when Jackie was killed."

  "You took the words right out of my mouth," Chung said and then informed him of the estimated time of death.

  Miyahira didn't flinch. "My partner and I spent the entire night at my grandmother's house in Wailuku, eating popcorn and watching old movies with her. They'll both confirm it."

  Chung looked at Leila sourly, getting the same response in return. It appeared that Hiram Miyahira was not their killer after all, assuming his alibi held up. That would mean someone else under their radar murdered Jackie Furomoto and, most likely, Yoshie Akiyama.

  Finding this bastard before other hula dancers died by his long, sharp knife was obviously front and center in this investigation. Chung was determined to hold up his end no matter how long it took for him and Leila to get the jump on a cold-blooded murderer.

  * * *

  Leila went to the forensic facility after getting word that video surveillance from Kama'ole Beach Park, where Jackie Furomoto's remains had been discarded, might show something that could be of interest to her. Since neither Richard Yamashita nor Hiram Miyahira had panned out as viable suspects in her death, Leila hoped the killer's face or car had been captured on video, which could then lead to the identification of the serial killer who was hunting hula dancers.

  "Aloha," Katie Canton, a forensic video technician, said as she ran a hand through her curly strawberry blonde hair.

  "Hey," Leila said, smiling at the thirty-six-year-old mother of two. Several months ago, Leila had ridden with Katie on the winding fifty-two-mile-long highway to Hana along Maui's northeastern shore to investigate a possible murder that was later ruled an accidental death. While there, they found some time to hang out at Wai'anapanapa State Park off Hana Highway, where there were colonies of seabirds, lava tubes, and a black sand beach.

  "While studying the surveillance tapes from the Charley Young Beach parking lot, which was the closest one to where Furomoto's body was found," Katie said, "I came up with a couple of vehicles that arrived and left around the time it was believed her body was dumped."