Murder of the Hula Dancers

by R. Barri Flowers

  She blushed. "Maybe you'll like the view even more after I take a shower and become presentable."

  "You're very presentable right now," he insisted.

  "Okay, if you say so." Who was she to doubt how much he cherished her?

  "I do." Maxwell kissed her softly on the mouth. "You can shower now while I make breakfast."

  Leila smiled, knowing what a great cook he was. "Actually, I'm starving, so that sounds like a great plan."

  He grinned mysteriously and left the room. She climbed out of bed, wishing she could get a couple more hours of shut eye. But duty called and couldn't wait as long as a ruthless serial killer was on the prowl.

  Fifteen minutes later, Leila had dressed and come downstairs. On the breakfast nook table, she saw French toast, fresh papaya, sausage patties, orange juice, and coffee.

  "Mmm, looks delicious," she uttered, taking a seat.

  "I aim to please," Maxwell said smoothly, sitting down.

  Leila smiled. "You always do." She sipped the juice. Only then did her eye catch the silver food dome over a plate. "What's this?"

  "Oh, just a little something extra I cooked up," he answered coolly, tasting his coffee.

  Curious, she lifted the dome and was shocked to find a diamond ring, causing her heart to skip a beat. She turned to Maxwell and asked: "Is that what I think it is?"

  He smiled. "Yes, if you think it's an engagement ring." Lifting it, he placed the ring on her finger. "You know how I feel about you and I know how you feel about me. So why not make it official? Say that you'll marry me, Leila, and truly make my day."

  She was practically speechless. Yes, they had professed their love for one another and she had hoped that would be enough for the time being. Obviously, he felt otherwise.

  Was she ready to get married and make plans for a wedding?

  Would that only ruin the good thing they had going?

  "Say something...anything," Maxwell pleaded. "Let me know what you're thinking."

  Leila sucked in a deep breath, and responded tentatively: "I'm thinking that I never expected this—I mean, not now..."

  "It's the element of surprise," he said. "Seemed like the right time."

  "Actually, I was thinking just the opposite," she hated to say. "I'm in the middle of a serial killer investigation, this is a busy season for you at work, and then there's Jan and the engagement that blew up in her face."

  "I'm not saying we have to get married tomorrow, or even next week, or next month," he said sincerely. "As for your investigation, it's what you do. There's always going to be a new case, but having someone to come home to every night is a good thing. As for me, every season is a busy season in the restaurant business. I can't let that stop me from wanting to make you my wife. And, finally, I know that Jan's hurting over what happened with her relationship, but she's not you and I'm not her ex." Maxwell took Leila's hand. "We can make this work if you're willing to meet me halfway."

  She tasted her coffee, as if it was a magic elixir that would help her find the right words for both of them. But it wasn't working. Once upon a time, she had actually thought that she and Seymour might get married, after he divorced his current wife. That pipe dream died a slow death.

  But now Leila was with a man who worshipped the ground she walked on and wanted to make her his bride without the baggage of another woman. Could she really turn her back on that? Or did it make sense to wait and think this through before making a hasty decision that could backfire?

  She swallowed thickly and asked gingerly: "Can I have some time to think about it?"

  Maxwell frowned, but responded graciously: "Of course. I know it seems like this came out of nowhere, but it didn't. I've been thinking about it for a while now and decided to move forward."

  "I'm glad you did," Leila said. "It means more to me than you could ever know. I just want to be sure before I say yes." She smiled softly. "I promise I'll have an answer soon."

  He smiled back. "Okay."

  Glancing at the sparkling diamonds on the ring, knowing it had to have cost him a fortune, Leila hated to take it off. But she forced herself to. She held the ring out to Maxwell to take, feeling it wasn't fair for her to keep it until she agreed to marry him.

  He refused to take the ring back; instead, he gently curled her fingers around it. "Hold onto the ring while you think it over. Take as long as you need to."

  "Mahalo," she told him, and gave him a kiss. It was sweet, but not passionate, as she didn't want to give him false hope or put any added pressure on herself, one way or the other.

  Leila looked at the uneaten food. It seemed like they had both suddenly lost their appetite.

  * * *

  Natalie was happy that Jotoku had spent the night at her place. If not, she would have gladly slept over at his condo. After the attack on Brenda, Natalie hadn't wanted to be alone. It's not that she wasn't up to defending herself, as she was quite capable with a gun and hand-to-hand fighting. But on an intimate level, she had needed the comfort of Jotoku and hoped it would take both their minds off the attempted murder of the hula dancer by a serial killer.

  As it turned out, Jotoku had needed her just as much. They had made love for half the night and slept through the other half.

  Now she was dressed for work, knowing that she had impressed Lieutenant Seymour for her role in seizing the moment and securing the area where the crime had taken place; as well as taking statements from potential witnesses—any of whom could turn out to be the perpetrator. Maybe this could lead to the break she needed in moving up to detective, though it would be at the expense of Brenda Gonzalez being stabbed. At least she had survived and would get to hula dance again. The same could not be said for the other victims of the Hula Killer.

  Jotoku had gotten dressed at the same time, wanting to go to the hospital to check on Brenda, who was expected to remain there for at least a couple more days.

  "What's this?" Jotoku asked curiously.

  Natalie watched as he picked up a copy of the sketch of the suspect in Brenda's stabbing that had been released to the public and media. "It's a drawing from our sketch artist of the man Brenda described as her assailant."

  Jotoku frowned as he studied the sketch. "I know him."

  Natalie's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

  "Yeah, if it's who I think it is. His name is Motoshi Yoshioka. He's a tour guide and part-time fire knife dancer. We worked together a few times." Jotoku glared at the sketch. "The no-good son of a bitch! How could he do this to Brenda and the others?"

  "It's a question only he can answer," Natalie said, "once we bring him in." She couldn't believe Jotoku had apparently identified the suspect which, if correct, would be another feather in her cap in helping to possibly bring down a vicious killer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Leila was sitting at her desk, sipping coffee, still reeling over Maxwell's proposal. She knew it had come from his heart and the last thing she wanted to do was break it. But accepting the proposal prematurely wouldn't be good for either of them—certainly not for her. She had to weigh all the factors before she agreed to marry someone and give up her independence. Leila had gotten used to being an independent operator over the years and, because of this, feared she might not make very good wife material. Or was she just getting cold feet ahead of time?

  She had little doubt that her mother would be all for the marriage, having met Maxwell in a video chat and wholeheartedly approving of him. This was something her mother rarely did in micromanaging her life and lovers, whether soliciting her opinion or not. But she couldn't agree to marry Maxwell simply because he fit her mother's criteria for the perfect husband. Or could she? In truth, he was all Leila could ever ask for in a man to hopefully spend the rest of her life with.

  Leila's musings were put on hold as Officer Yuen walked up to her desk.

  She held up the sketch Leila had done of Brenda Gonzalez's attacker. "His name is Motoshi Yoshioka," Natalie said confidently. "He's a tour guide on the i
sland and does some fire dancing on the side."

  Leila looked up at her. "How did you—?"

  "My boyfriend, Jotoku, recognized him from the sketch. He's a musician and said they did some gigs together."

  "You're sure about this?" Leila had to ask, though she was aware Natalie had been at the mall with her boyfriend when Brenda was stabbed.

  Natalie did not blink. "The only way to find out is to question the suspect. He lives in an apartment in Kihei."

  Leila cocked a brow. She could see that Officer Yuen was on top of this and eager to see if her boyfriend's identification of the suspect would hold up and break this case wide open. Leila had no reason to believe otherwise, given that Brenda Gonzalez had signed off on the sketch as an accurate representation of her assailant. It also fit that the suspect was a tour guide. That could explain how he was able to identify and track hula dancers, as well as lure them to dead zones, where surveillance cameras were scarce.

  Leila looked over at Chung, who was on the phone. She wondered if he would actually have the audacity to conduct illegal drug-related activities right under the nose of the Maui Police Department's fellow detectives and officers. But that mattered less at the moment than the chance to nab the man known as the Hula Killer.

  As such, she and Chung remained partners in needing to see this through, along with Seymour, who had convinced her as their lieutenant that the current serial killer case took top priority. Rising, Leila told Natalie, "We'll take it from here."

  Natalie frowned. "You'll need backup from officers—just in case, right? And it is within my district."

  Leila saw no reason to deny her the opportunity to tag along and help out, under the circumstances, once the arrest of their suspect had been signed off on by a judge. "Let's go," she told the officer equably.

  * * *

  Armed with an arrest warrant and probable cause, Detectives Kahana and Chung, along with Officer Yuen and her partner, Officer Conrad Spinelli, and other officers, descended upon the address on Alahele Place for Motoshi Yoshioka. When there was no response to an order to open the door, Leila gave the go-ahead for them to force it open.

  When this had been achieved, she and Chung led the way. Wearing bulletproof vests, they entered the apartment with their Glock pistols drawn. It looked like a pigsty with trash and clothing strewn about. There was a foul odor in the air, seemingly a mixture of body odor and marijuana.

  Leila noticed some photographs of hula dancers spread out on a table. They included Yoshie Akiyama, Jackie Furomoto, and Brenda Gonzalez. There was also a picture of a hula dancer that, judging by the quality and more modest outfit, looked like it was at least twenty years old. A shiver ran through Leila. It was as if Motoshi Yoshioka were saying, I'm the person you're looking for and the proof is right here. Catch me if you can.

  But there was no sign of the suspect as they searched each room.

  "Clear," Leila called out when she had established that he wasn't hiding in the closet or under the bed in the one-bedroom second story unit. "Looks like he left in a hurry."

  "You think he was tipped off?" Chung asked, lowering his gun.

  By who, you? Leila thought wryly, but said: "Maybe he saw the sketch and knew we were onto him."

  "Yeah, I suppose," Chung said.

  "If he's on the run, he's even more dangerous," she suggested.

  Chung rolled his eyes. "The asshole has already stabbed to death two women and tried his best to make it three. I'm sure he's already about as dangerous as they get."

  Leila was inclined to agree, except for the fact that being exposed and out of his comfort zone left the suspect vulnerable. In her mind, that made him more unstable than before and more likely to take greater risks. But she wasn't going to waste time explaining that to Chung if he didn't already get it.

  Natalie approached them. "I found this in the cabinet under the bathroom sink—"

  Wearing gloves, she was holding a long, stainless steel folding knife with dried blood on the blade, as if the user couldn't be bothered cleaning it. "Could be the murder weapon..."

  "That's a good possibility," Leila agreed, knowing DNA would likely support this. "Please bag it carefully as possible evidence."

  She saw that the officer was already doing just that. To Leila, the knife was further indication that the killer had left behind a calling card aimed at both taunting the police and owning up to what he'd done.

  Now the trick was to nab him before he took out his rage with another long-bladed knife on someone else.

  * * *

  Motoshi Yoshioka was smart enough to know when he'd been boxed into a corner. They were onto him and he had no one to blame but himself. He'd been careless, allowing that stupid bitch to get the jump on him. In the process, she had saved her life and ended his, more or less.

  The moment he saw the sketch of his face on the television screen, Motoshi knew it was only a matter of time before someone tipped off the authorities as to his identity. So he grabbed a few things and got the hell out of there, speeding away in his black Hyundai Tucson before the cops could show up to grill him and haul him off to jail—or worse.

  He couldn't allow that to happen. He had already spent too much of his life being locked up to let them do it to him again.

  Not when there was still work to be done.

  But since the cat was out of the bag, he figured he might as well leave a few things behind to proudly own up to who he was. He would leave it to the cops to figure out the details.

  Right now, he had another score to settle—one that had put him in such a deranged state in the first place.

  * * *

  "Looks like Yoshioka's no stranger to trouble," Chung said matter-of-factly, as he stood at Leila's desk.

  "I could have told you that," she scoffed. "Anyone who goes around cutting up women to get his kicks has to have run into the law at one time or another."

  Chung pursed his lips. "Yeah, well make that multiple times. Not only has he been in custody for everything from DUI to disturbing the peace, he's also been in and out of mental institutions most of his life, though I don't have the specifics as to why yet."

  "Well, he's obviously not playing with a full deck," Leila snorted. "Maybe he thinks stabbing to death hula dancers is his path to salvation, or he's got some other warped way of thinking."

  Chung couldn't help but think that she seemed to have a chip on her shoulder these days. Was the stress and strain of the case starting to get to her, even though they were headed down the stretch run with the end in sight? Or were there troubles on the personal front? Maybe her restaurant boyfriend wasn't measuring up in the bedroom.

  Chung felt a twinkling of desire, similar to what he felt for Officer Natalie Yuen, whom he had hit on once or twice, but got nothing in return. He was better off anyway getting his sexual thrills away from the job.

  "Guess when we haul his ass in, we can ask him to his face what's behind his madness," Chung said sardonically.

  Leila sneered. "Right. I won't hold my breath on that."

  "You won't have to," Chung said. "Creeps like that usually get some sort of thrill drawing attention to themselves. Chances are, when we have him in an interrogation room, we won't be able to shut the asshole up. Maybe we'll find out it's as simple as a lonely fire knife dancer who was jilted by a hula dancer and decided, what the hell, I'll take it out on all of them as payback."

  "I doubt there's a simple explanation for the killings," she said contemplatively. "Let's just find him first and go from there..."

  Chung nodded. "That's the plan."

  * * *

  At the crime lab, Leila stood with Chung behind David Lovato as he sat at his station. He had been analyzing surveillance camera footage from the parking lot of the shopping center where Brenda Gonzalez was accosted.

  "What did you come up with?" Leila asked the savvy tech eagerly.

  Lovato adjusted his glasses and said proudly: "Just what you were looking for to further tie the suspect to
the victim—"

  "Show us!" Chung said sharply.

  "Okay, okay, Detective," he said. "I was just trying to set the stage."

  "No time to waste, Lovato," Leila said, agreeing with her partner on this issue. In other areas, like being on the take, they couldn't be further apart.

  "Here goes..." Lovato said, turning on the digital video. "Okay, there's Ms. Gonzalez exiting her car... And there's the suspect approaching her—"

  Leila watched keenly as a man came up to Brenda and started talking to her. Then he turned around, seemingly looking right up at the camera. "Can you freeze it right there and zoom in?" she asked, knowing he could.

  "Yeah, no problem," Lovato said.

  Leila studied the image. It certainly looked like the same man she had sketched. She had seen his mugshot and a couple of photographs from Motoshi Yoshioka's residence; including one of him fire dancing, alongside hula dancers.

  She couldn't help but wonder what type of sick obsession had driven him to go after the dancers when not performing with them.

  "That's him," she said.

  "Damn right," Chung agreed. "We've got you on tape, asshole, for attempted murder."

  "Here's the rest," Lovato said, and played it.

  Leila watched with horror as Yoshioka drove the knife into Brenda and she recoiled in agony, before turning the tables on him with a vicious head-butt and a solid knee between his legs.

  Yoshioka had been rendered helpless just long enough for Brenda to make her escape.

  Leila was sure that DNA taken from the suspect's bloody knife would be a positive match to any or all of the women he attacked.

  But that would be a small consolation for anyone else who found themselves in Yoshioka's crosshairs.

  An hour later, Leila went to the hospital to talk to Brenda Gonzalez. She found her sitting up in bed, talking animatedly with her boyfriend, Shelby Winchester.

  "Looks like you're feeling better," Leila said with a smile.

  "Yeah, a little," she responded. "Did you get him yet?"

  "We're working on it," Leila promised. "I need you to take a look at some mugshots to see if you can identify the man who stabbed you."