CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Staring out his office window, Seymour was understandably troubled by Leila's allegations that Jonny Chung was a dirty cop. Though he didn't want to believe it, Seymour trusted her instincts. There was also no getting around the fact that Shichiro Gutierrez had made a name for himself on Maui dealing in illegal drugs, weapons, and other criminality. It wasn't hard to imagine him raking in the dough. So maybe Chung had gotten greedy and decided to strong arm him for a cut of the action. If so, there was no way he could simply let him off the hook, as that would undermine his own integrity as a police lieutenant and also cause Leila to lose respect for him. Neither one of those was acceptable if he wanted to be able to look in the mirror and recognize the reflection staring back.
Though he took the possibility that Chung was crooked seriously, Seymour had to prioritize his time and actions. That meant focusing his attention first and foremost on the murder investigations that had the island residents and its police department on edge. Whether it was one or two murderers responsible for the deaths of several women, the crimes needed to be solved. Under his watch, Seymour faced tremendous pressure to do just that. He was confident that his detectives were up to the task. For now, he would put aside other issues on the table, such as a cop being on the take.
By that evening, everyone was in accordance, more or less, in their shared conviction that justice needed to be served and acted on accordingly. Seymour took a break from work as he accompanied Mele and Akela to the Queen Ka'ahumanu Center, a popular shopping mall in Kahului. It was a family outing that didn't happen often enough, which he hoped to change as a means to bring them closer.
They bought Akela some new clothes, which she gushed over. Seymour purchased a pair of leather Oxfords for himself and helped Mele choose a couple of nice outfits that suited her. It was his way of trying to show her that he cared and wanted her to look nice, as well as feel comfortable in her own skin and with him.
"Can we get some ice cream?" Akela asked, looking from one parent to the other.
"Only if you promise not to leave more on your face and clothes than you eat," Seymour joked.
She giggled. "I promise."
Mele smiled. "Okay, you talked us into it. Let's go get some ice cream."
Seymour was holding both of their hands when they came upon Ferguson and his girlfriend, Gina. She was in her mid to late twenties, Hawaiian, and good looking with long blonde hair and a shapely body that was accentuated by a blue wrap dress and high heel sandals.
Seymour wondered how Ferguson had gotten so lucky. He recalled the detective saying he had met Gina at a Kihei Fourth Friday event. Seymour had never figured out if that was before or after Ferguson's wife left him.
"Hey," Seymour said.
Ferguson smiled. "Hey, boss."
"Gina," Seymour said with a nod. They had met a while ago when he ran into Gina and Ferguson on the street.
"Aloha!" Gina grinned at him and then turned to Mele.
"This is my wife," Seymour said, making the introductions. "Gina is Ferguson's lady friend."
"Aloha," Gina repeated to her.
Mele smiled. "Hi."
Gina looked down and asked casually: "And you must be Akela?"
"Yeah," she giggled.
Gina stared at her. "You're so pretty."
Akela blushed. "Mahalo."
"And it looks like you've been shopping," Gina told her.
Akela nodded and opened her bag. "I have some new shirts, shorts, and a dress."
"That's nice." Gina's eyes lit up. "I bet you can't wait to wear them."
"I can't," Akela admitted.
Seymour noted Gina's keen interest in Akela, as though she was ignoring everyone else present. He wondered if Gina had any kids of her own.
"So where are you guys headed?" Ferguson asked Seymour.
"To get some ice cream." He didn't offer them the chance to accompany them, believing it would take away from their family time together.
"Well, we won't keep you," Ferguson said uneasily.
"Likewise," Seymour told him.
Gina frowned. "It was nice to meet you, Mele."
"You too," she said.
Gina smiled. "I hope to see you again sometime, Akela."
She smiled back. "I hope so, too."
They walked away and Seymour glanced back thoughtfully, as did Akela and Mele, before heading to their destination up ahead.
* * *
"I just wanted to reach out and wrap Akela in my arms," Gina said endearingly.
"I know you did, baby," Ferguson told her. They were in bed at his Kupono Street bungalow in Paia, a small community on the north shore of Maui. Overhead, the ceiling fan was twirling. Ferguson spotted a small gecko crawling along the wall and watched as it darted around the corner and out of sight. He turned to face Gina, who was lying naked beside him. She had jumped his bones the moment they got home, seeking a release from the pent-up energy she had after unexpectedly running into the daughter she had given up for adoption.
For his part, Ferguson had been given a start in seeing the little girl at the shopping center and, even more, at having to look Blake Seymour in the eye without giving away the knowledge that Akela was Gina's flesh and blood. Ferguson had admittedly been unnerved that Gina might inadvertently spill the beans and then all hell would have broken loose.
But Gina held her tongue, if not her joy, in seeing Akela up close and personal. Ferguson hoped that she didn't somehow see this as an opening to establish contact with the child she gave up. He suspected that was something neither Seymour nor Mele would embrace wholeheartedly, if at all.
In addition, Ferguson was not too crazy about getting wrapped up in a situation that was out of his control and could only cause problems he didn't need. He hoped Gina understood this, having already warned her that the girl was off limits. Was she was still prepared to heed his warning?
"She's gotten so big now," Gina gushed.
"Yeah, they grow up fast," Ferguson said knowingly, glancing at the gecko that had made its way to another wall.
"And she seems happy with them."
"She is," he stated flatly. "Seymour and Mele love her to death."
"I think you're right." Gina gazed at him. "I would have too, if I could do it all over again."
"I'm sure of that, but don't second-guess yourself. You did what you had to at the time. And it worked out pretty well for Akela."
"Yeah, but what about me?"
He met her eyes contemplatively, not wanting to say the wrong thing. "You're in a good place right now," he told her. "And so am I, with you in my life. That's what's most important, don't you think?"
She licked her lips. "Yeah, I guess so." Draping her leg across his, she uttered: "I'm happy I have you in my life, too."
Ferguson grinned, taking that as a sign they could go another round. He leaned over and kissed her, slipping his tongue in Gina's mouth. When she eagerly returned the kiss, he climbed on top of her and they made love again with even more passion than before.
* * *
In bed, Seymour sighed as he felt the toll of the day begin to catch up with him. He was still willing to have sex with his wife, if she was in the mood. But she had turned her way and made it clear that she wasn't interested. Or was he misreading her own weariness for disinterest?
Seymour often found himself trying to read between the lines where it concerned Mele and their relationship, usually to no avail. He was sure she still loved him on some level and he loved her. But was that enough for either of them in the long run?
"I worry about Akela," she said suddenly, breaking the silence.
He gazed up at the ceiling. "Why?"
"What if she has questions about who she is and wants to know more about her birth mother?"
Seymour stiffened as he pondered the question. "She can't know what we aren't privy to ourselves, aside from the basic information."
Mele turned to face him, her face creased with concern. "What
if her birth mother shows up on our doorstep someday and wants to be part of her life?"
"That's not an option," he said firmly. "It was a closed adoption."
"But that doesn't mean it can't be reopened," she said apprehensively.
Seymour sighed. "Akela's birth mother knew what she was doing when she chose to put her up for adoption. Even if she did show up, she has no rights here. We will always be Akela's only parents."
"Can you find out what became of the birth mother?" Mele asked.
He cocked a brow. "Where is this coming from all of a sudden?"
"Right here." She touched her chest. "I just need to know that she's anywhere but on Maui and that she won't try to interfere in our lives and how we're raising Akela."
"She won't," he promised. "I won't let her."
"Please," Mele said in earnest, "do whatever you have to do to find out where she is—for my own peace of mind. I just love Akela so much. There's no room in her life for two mothers, and I don't ever want to have to compete for her affection with the woman who gave birth to her."
Though he was confident that was highly unlikely, Seymour gave in to his wife's wishes. "Okay, I'll see what I can find out," he promised.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"You don't have to thank me. I love Akela just as much as you do and will never let anyone hurt her or try to take her away from us."
Mele leaned forward and kissed him. She waited for a moment and then gave him a second kiss.
Taking her cue, Seymour kissed her back. She seemed to like it, so he took the opportunity for them to be together, even if it was maybe for the wrong reasons. Pushing that aside, they made love and then held each other. Seymour couldn't help but wonder if they had turned a corner. Or was their future contingent upon his ability to track down Akela's birth mother?
He went to sleep on that thought, which was mixed with the burdens of trying to solve some nasty homicides on Maui.
* * *
Renee entered the Wailuku Bar & Grill on Waiehu Beach Road. It didn't take long for her to spot the woman she was looking for. She had followed Naomi Baker, the forensic examiner, to the place, hoping to get some information about the charred vehicle she had worked on. Renee had already looked into Naomi's background. She was divorced, had run track in high school, was a party girl and honor's student in college, and appeared to take her job very seriously.
So do I, Renee thought, as she approached her, believing this story involving a serial killer of hula girls just kept getting stranger and stranger. She could only imagine how it would all end. As a good journalist, she intended to stay on top of it.
"Naomi..." Renee said, getting her attention.
Naomi turned her way. "Who are you?"
"Renee Bradley. I'm with the Aloha News, Crime Beat. Can I buy you another drink?"
Naomi regarded her suspiciously. "What do I have to do for that drink?"
Renee smiled before saying smoothly: "Just answer a few quick questions."
"About what?"
"Can you confirm that the burned vehicle you examined was in fact the Subaru Crosstrek owned by murder victim Yoshie Akiyama?"
Naomi frowned. "That information hasn't been released to the public yet."
"I have a few sources in the police department," Renee said proudly.
"And what did they tell you?" Naomi asked.
"Just enough to whet my appetite, but not nearly enough to fill my plate."
Naomi laughed. "You're good."
"So are you," Renee said, "or so I'm told."
Naomi sighed and finished her drink. "Okay, but it has to be off the record—at least until it becomes official."
All things considered, Renee agreed to it, knowing she would still be ready to release the story before anyone else.
"I'll take that drink now," Naomi said.
Renee ordered Naomi another ginger margarita and herself a banana mango smoothie.
"The scorched vehicle did belong to Yoshie Akiyama," Naomi told her after the drinks arrived.
Renee sipped her drink while digesting this information. "Do you think her killer stole the car and torched it?"
Naomi shrugged. "Maybe. Or it could have wound up in someone else's hands."
"What can you tell me about the body found in the car?" Renee's sources hadn't given her much to go on regarding this.
"Not much, I'm afraid, other than it was a woman, likely older than the hula dancers that were murdered."
Renee wondered if the victim was still involved in hula in some capacity, making her a target for the killer. "So no name?"
"No, they're still working on that, given the charred condition of the remains," Naomi said, wrinkling her nose as she tasted her drink. "But I can tell you that the latest victim was shot to death with a .38-caliber pistol."
"Hmm..." Renee mumbled pensively. "No stabbing at all?"
"Not that I'm aware of. You'll have to ask the coroner about that."
Renee doubted she would have much luck there, at least not until the results were made public. Still, two different ways of committing murder was food for thought. Either the killer was trying to throw the authorities and the media off by keeping them guessing or there was more than one person out there with blood on their hands.
Whatever the case, this had suddenly gotten a lot more interesting.
"Let's have another drink," she offered, to which Naomi readily agreed.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Rachel Lancaster never forgot that she was a cop. How could she, when danger was staring her in the face every time she headed out of her home in Waikapu, a rural community near Wailuku in Central Maui. Granted, crimes of violence were not the norm on the island, but it only took one homicidal asshole to ruin it for everyone.
In this case, they weren't sure if the dead woman found in a burned out vehicle was the victim of a serial killer. Or if some other person had murdered her for reasons other than those the serial killer may have had for stabbing to death at least two women they knew of, in what was clearly a disturbing pattern of targeting hula dancers. The fact that their Jane Doe was in a car that belonged to Yoshie Akiyama, the Hula Killer's first known victim, certainly caught their attention in the department as more than a little unsettling and suspicious. They needed answers—and fast.
Rachel's focus at the moment, along with her partner, was trying to identify the charred remains of the woman who had been shot to death before the car was set on fire. If their case crossed over into the investigation underway by Leila Kahana and Jonny Chung, then so be it.
After getting dressed and brushing her hair, Rachel picked up the framed picture she kept on her nightstand. It was of her late husband, Gregory. He lost his life three years ago in Iraq, while serving in the Army, when an improvised explosive device hit his tank. At the time, his tour of duty would have been up in two months and they had talked about starting a family. Instead, she became a widow in her thirties and was still trying to come to terms with being alone and missing the love of her life.
Rachel put the picture down and wiped away a tear, turning her attention back to the life she had been left with as a police detective. It was pretty much all that kept her going these days and she didn't want to lose the one thing that she could still hold onto in life.
She headed out the door for work on a muggy morning, passing by two tall palm trees on her property.
No sooner had she reached her desk, when Rachel was approached by a tall, shapely woman in her thirties with short crimson hair. She was wearing jeans and a sleeveless top.
"Are you Detective Lancaster?" she asked.
Rachel looked up at her. "Yes. How can I help you?"
"My name's Judy Upton. I was told that you're the detective working on the case involving an unidentified woman in her fifties that was found in a burning car."
"That's right." Rachel held her gaze. "Do you know something about it?"
"I'm not sure," she said, fidgeting. "I think the wom
an in the car might be my mother—"
Rachel reacted to this, offering her a seat. "What's your mother's name?"
"Virginia Upton. She's been missing for two days."
"Is that normal?" Rachel asked curiously.
"Yes, in away. She and her boyfriend go on overnight hikes or short trips to other islands sometimes without telling anyone. Before that, the same was true when she and my dad were married."
Rachel gazed at her. "So what makes you think your mother isn't on another such outing now?"
"Because when I heard about the woman found in a burning car, I just got an eerie feeling," Judy claimed. "So I called my mother's boyfriend and he said they weren't together. I've checked with her friends and they haven't heard from her either."
Rachel could relate to the not knowing part, which had been the case for her initially when Greg was reported missing in Iraq. But, as a detective, she was trained to be suspicious of everyone that might be involved in a homicide, beginning with family members.
"Do you have any other reason to believe this could be your mother?" Rachel asked, peering at her.
"No, not really," Judy said. "I sure as hell hope I'm wrong and she calls me from the Big Island or anywhere to say she's all right. I just need to know, one way or the other—"
That goes for two of us, Rachel thought. "Since the body in the car was burned beyond recognition," she told her straightforwardly, "we'll need the name of your mother's dentist, so x-rays can be compared with those taken from the decedent."
Judy agreed to this and her fears were put on hold as Rachel passed along the information to Patricia Lee, who then set the process of a positive identification in motion in conjunction with a forensic odontologist.
* * *
By afternoon, the results had come in. Ferguson and Rachel met with Patricia Lee and Megan Paglinawan at the forensic facility.
Eyeing the thirtysomething, petite, dark-haired forensic dentist, Ferguson asked her pointblank: "So who is the lady that was murdered and left in a burning vehicle?"
Murder of the Hula Dancers Page 13