Brenda raised a brow. "What about the sketch you did?"
"I'm sure you gave me an accurate description—as you recalled him. But there's no substitute for an actual photograph to back it up." In spite of the circumstantial evidence, Leila didn't want to leave any holes in the case against their chief suspect that a lawyer would try to exploit on his behalf.
She showed Brenda a sheet with eight mugshots of men who were reasonably similar in facial characteristics, but hardly clones of one another.
Let's see if she can pick him out, Leila thought. "Just take your time," she told her.
"I'm right here with you, baby," Shelby said, offering comfort as he held one of her hands.
Brenda studied the mugshots intently for a moment, before pointing at one. "That's him—"
Leila gazed at the picture. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, he's definitely the man who tried to kill me."
Leila looked into the chilling eyes of Motoshi Yoshioka. This certainly reinforced their conclusions that he was not only her assailant, but the Hula Killer they were pursuing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Motoshi hid behind a door as his father sat at the table drinking whiskey. It was his favorite drink and he had been drinking it a lot since his mother left them. Though he hated her for this, Motoshi knew his father hated her even more. His father blamed it on the sins of her hula dancing, which enticed men to crave her body, including the sailor she had run away with.
Motoshi saw the gun sitting on the table in front of his father, causing a streak of fear to course through him.
Takuzo Yoshioka downed another drink, as though it would drown away his sorrows. How could it? No amount of alcohol would ever bring his beloved Isabella back to him and their boy.
Still, it helped ease his pain to some degree. It also helped him forget momentarily that he was all alone now—left to care for a kid who saw him as someone his mother felt was unworthy of her companionship. If only he had seen how unhappy she was, maybe he could have done better.
Takuzo gulped down more alcohol. How was he to know she would have eyes for another man? Or that she would allow hula dancing to break away from the tradition on the islands for generations, in favor of exhibiting more skin and performing with her body in ways that left men drooling to climb between her legs.
And she let it happen, even at the expense of her marriage, which was sacred to Takuzo. Now he was as depressed as he had ever been and didn't know how to cope with it.
There was only one way he knew how to make the pain and humiliation go away permanently.
"Come out, Motoshi," he told his son. "I know you're there."
He watched as the boy slowly emerged from behind the door and stood there ill at ease.
"Closer," he demanded.
Motoshi obeyed, keeping his hands in his pockets, as though they were stuck like glue.
Takuzo took another drink, building up his courage for what he must do. "I'm sorry your mother abandoned us."
"Me too," Motoshi told him.
"I know you are, son. Maybe someday she'll make things right for you. But for me, it's too late."
Fear crossed Motoshi's face. "Why?" he asked hesitantly, glancing at the gun. "It doesn't have to be too late for you."
"She destroyed me," Takuzo said sadly. "She made me feel worthless and less than a man. I hope you never feel that way and that you make a good life for yourself."
"We'll make a good life for each other," Motoshi pleaded.
For a moment, Takuzo thought it might be possible. But then his alcohol-fogged mind took over and he knew the only future he would see was a bleak one without his Isabella.
It was too much to bear.
He picked up the revolver, placed it at the side of his head and, while gazing directly into the terrified eyes of his young son, pulled the trigger.
Motoshi watched in horror as his father slumped over, blood gushing from the hole in his head.
As tears poured down his cheeks, all Motoshi could do was stand there like a zombie, cursing the day he was ever born.
And the mother who had brought this moment upon them.
* * *
Motoshi entered the small cottage where his mother lived. As usual, she was asleep on the couch after having her fill of daytime television shows. For the first time, he was seeing her not as the beautiful woman she used to be, but how she was today: an aging, broken woman, who had let herself go.
In spite of this realization, it made no difference. He was on a mission and would not be denied. Not anymore.
He turned off the television, hoping she hadn't seen his mugshot on the screen.
She opened her eyes, as though sensing him standing there. "Motoshi, I didn't hear you come in."
He flashed a disarming grin. "I didn't want to wake you."
Isabella sat up. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes, everything's fine," he responded tonelessly. "Or at least it will be soon."
She smiled. "Can I fix you something to eat?"
"I'm not hungry."
She looked disappointed. "All right."
"Do you ever think about father?" he tossed out at her.
Isabella reacted. "Yes, of course."
"Do you miss him?"
"Yes," she insisted, "your father was my first love."
"Is that why you dumped him for another guy?"
She frowned. "We've already been through this, Motoshi. Please let's not go there anymore."
"Fine." He steeled his nerves, realizing that there was nothing she could say to right the wrongs of the past. The time had come to do right by his father. Just as he had time and time again in ridding the island of women like his mother.
"I've got something for you," he said evenly.
"A present... For me?" A smile lifted her cheeks. "What is it?"
"Something very special." He sat down beside her. "Close your eyes."
Isabella hesitated, before doing as he requested. "Let me know when I can open them again."
Probably never, Motoshi thought. Removing the pocketknife that he'd purchased that very day, he gazed briefly at the shiny blade, before plunging it into his mother's chest.
Ignoring her screams, he stuck the knife into her over and over again, and again and again, till she finally stopped screaming.
Blood was squirting from everywhere, some of it landing on him.
Her eyes had opened, but were void of any life.
He stared at her, and soon all Motoshi could see was the mother he'd known when he was a boy. She was beautiful and the great love of his father's life.
Until she went astray, ruining everything.
Motoshi kissed her forehead. "Goodbye, Mother."
He got up, still holding the knife. He used his mother's clothing to wipe the blood off the long blade.
After using the back of his hand to wipe her blood off his cheek, Motoshi walked away, knowing the next time he would see the woman who had brought him into this world it would be in hell.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
A BOLO had been put out for the arrest of Motoshi Yoshioka, who was believed to be driving a black Hyundai Tucson SUV. The murder suspect was considered armed and extremely dangerous.
As he drove the police cruiser, Chung couldn't agree more. They had to nail this bastard before he cut up any more women on the island. The fact that he had not bothered to turn himself in like a good serial killer, meant that Yoshioka was still a loose cannon and likely looking to add more notches to his belt of murders.
They learned through his police file that Yoshioka's next of kin was his mother, Isabella Yoshioka. Her last known address was a place in Wailuku on Meakanu Lane.
It was there that Chung met Leila and other members of the police department, believing that the suspect might be holed up in his mother's house. Chung wondered if Yoshioka, who was smart enough to evade the authorities and identification for some time, had been stupid enough to hide out somewhere they were most like
ly to look. But he knew that desperation could lead psycho killers to do things they might not normally do, had the circumstances been different.
Chung hoped that would be the case here. He would like nothing better than to put Yoshioka out of his misery and call it a day.
"Glad you finally decided to show up," Leila said humorlessly.
"I came as soon as I got word," Chung said defensively. In truth, he'd been acting as a peacemaker between rival drug dealers, while making it clear that his cut of the profits came first and foremost.
She rolled her eyes. "If you say so."
"Any sign he's in there?" Chung asked, noting the cottage was surrounded by overwhelming force.
"None as yet," she said pessimistically. "We're going in—"
Removing his gun, Chung was itching to put a bullet or two in the serial killer. "Ready when you are."
They approached the house. When Leila gave the word, they burst open the front door. She led the way inside, with her firearm out in front.
Chung followed her and immediately spotted a dead woman, who looked to be in her sixties, slumped over on the couch.
Leila cautiously approached her. She was covered in blood and appeared to have numerous wounds consistent with a stabbing attack. After feeling for a pulse, Leila said somberly, "She's dead."
"And we have a pretty good idea who did it," Chung said cynically. "I'm guessing this is Isabella Yoshioka."
"All clear," an officer said as he came out of the bedroom.
"Where the hell is he?" Chung asked.
"The body's still warm," Leila said. "He couldn't have gotten far."
"But maybe just far enough." Chung put the gun in his holster. "There are lots of places on Maui he could go to disappear for a while."
"We'll get him," she said confidently, as if she knew something he didn't. "If Yoshioka has descended into killing his own mother, he's subject to go after anyone now out of desperation."
Chung wasn't so sure about that. He believed there was a method to the killer's madness and it was anything but random. That included offing his mother.
The inner workings of a lunatic's mind didn't really interest Chung, but he knew that Leila and Seymour liked to delve more deeply into the reasons for a killer's depravity. All he cared about was stopping the killer and maybe getting credit for doing so as a badge of honor.
Now the trick was to locate Yoshioka and bring him in, dead or alive. As far as Chung was concerned, spending the rest of his life in prison or a mental institution was too good for Yoshioka. But he knew that would likely be up to others to determine.
* * *
Motoshi was in the bathroom at a service station. He stared at his reflection in the mirror as he shaved his head bald. It was time for a new look. One they probably wouldn't be expecting in their search to apprehend him.
He also needed a different appearance from the one in the sketch that had been plastered all over the news, along with a mugshot. He couldn't afford to be captured right now, especially when there was still a lot of work to do.
His father wouldn't want him to quit now. Not when his mother hadn't been punished enough for hurting them both so badly. She needed to die again and again, before her dirty hula dancing caused her to run off with another man who was teased enough to want her at any cost.
Including abandoning her family.
Motoshi left the bathroom, feeling as though he had been given a new lease on life, even if it was only a short one. But it would be long enough to make his father proud and go with the flow of his ancestors in the spirit of aloha.
He quickly made his way to the Chevrolet Malibu he had stolen. He had already ditched his own vehicle, which had gone unnoticed. By all accounts, he was just another Hawaiian out for a drive on a normal day.
He knew, though, that it was anything but normal. Each day was judgment day and whatever happened was meant to be.
As he drove off, Motoshi started to sing, "Somewhere Over The Rainbow," and he could hear his mother and father singing merrily right alongside him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The following morning, Leila and Chung arrived at the crime lab, fully anticipating that DNA on the bloodstained folding knife confiscated from Motoshi Yoshioka would belong to the victims of the Hula Killer.
Leila cringed at the thought of the multiple stabbings two women had endured before their lives were so callously taken. It could have been three lives if Brenda Gonzalez hadn't managed to escape and survive an attack that Leila was sure had been carried out by the serial killer. The DNA results would go a long way toward confirming that belief.
Delfino greeted them. "Guess this isn't exactly what you'd call an aloha moment," he said dryly.
"Only if you have something useful for our investigation," Chung told him, unamused.
Delfino licked his lips. "Yeah, I've got something for you."
Leila looked at him questioningly. "We're listening..."
"First of all, we were able to pull a nice sized fingerprint from the handle of the knife," Delfino indicated proudly. "The Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System came through with a match of prints taken from Motoshi Yoshioka during one or more of his arrests. So he definitely used the knife in a not so nice way."
Leila had already more or less come to terms with the fact that Yoshioka owned the knife as a weapon of murder. But having the national IAFIS confirm the connection was another piece of the puzzle to fall into place. "What about the blood that was on the knife blade?" she asked impatiently.
"I was getting to that." Delfino grabbed a sheet of paper off a table. "In testing the blood staining the blade, we found a mixture of DNA that matched three different women, two of which are deceased—Yoshie Akiyama and Jackie Furomoto—and the stabbing victim who was damn lucky to escape their fate, Brenda Gonzalez."
"So Yoshioka had no problem using the same weapon to go after the hula dancers," Chung remarked, "as though he could care less if they were linked to him. In fact, I'm betting that was exactly what he wanted when he left the knife right where we could find it."
"Sounds like a classic serial killer nut job," Delfino said. "Keep it simple and give us something to speculate about."
Leila was not impressed by the DNA match, though she was glad to have it in their arsenal against the suspect. "Yoshioka may have given us a gift in the knife he left behind," she uttered with a catch to her voice, "but it hardly means he's through operating as a demented killing machine. I'm guessing he already had a replacement knife or two, and is fully prepared to use them when the opportunity strikes."
Delfino frowned. "I hope to hell you catch the son of a bitch before anyone else dies. But if there are more victims, I hope you also find the knife he used as a murder weapon so we can extract DNA to help solve the case and bring closure to family members."
"It's what everyone wants," Chung said coldly. "Problem is we don't always get what we want, especially when it comes to tracking down certain crafty, even if they're crazy, killers."
"Hey, I'm just saying," voiced Delfino, running a hand along his jawline.
"We're with you, Delfino," Leila assured him. "If we find our suspect, we're almost sure to find he has a knife on him. We can only pray that he never gets the chance to use it to attack someone."
He nodded. "You know where to find me."
"Ditto," she told him.
Leila and Chung left the forensic examiner to do his thing while they continued on with the investigation of Motoshi Yoshioka, their chief suspect as the Hula Killer, now equipped with forensic evidence of his multiple and deadly attacks.
* * *
"So where are we going?" Leila asked Seymour. She was sitting in the passenger seat while he drove that afternoon, after he'd requested that she accompany him.
"We're headed to see Doctor Basilridge at the Maui Mental Health Center," he said. "Basilridge treated Motoshi Yoshioka during many of the years he was confined. It seemed like a good idea to pay the
doctor a visit to see if she can help us wrap our minds around Yoshioka's homicidal behavior, which may, in turn, assist us in locating him and bringing him in."
"Makes sense." Leila wanted nothing than more than to see Yoshioka taken off the streets of Maui before he struck out at others who somehow enraged his inner demons. Obviously, getting some perspective on the nature of his psychiatric treatment would give them more to work with to understand the killer's destructive psyche and what he might do next.
"I thought you'd agree." He glanced over at her. "For Chung, maybe not so much..."
"Yeah, tell me about it," she scoffed. It seemed to Leila that her partner was too much into his illegal extracurricular activities to give a damn about digging deep into their suspects' mind and figuring out what made him tick. But now that she knew for a fact he was on the take, working with him and pretending they were still in harmony had proven to be more challenging than she thought. Or had Seymour already figured that out? "So what do you plan to do about Chung?" she asked him pointblank.
Seymour kept his eyes on the road. "I'm still working on that," he said indecisively.
"I seriously hope you don't expect me to just continue being his partner and ignore the reality that he's a dirty cop."
"No, of course not. I've got more respect for you than that."
Leila was glad to hear that. She wondered why she had doubted it. Perhaps it was because of the nature of their relationship over time, including their romance. But she needed to trust him to do the right thing where it concerned Chung.
As if reading her mind, Seymour said: "As I've said before, I just want to get through this serial killer case before I deal with Chung. Believe me when I say that he won't be allowed to play both sides of the fence—not while he's in my unit."
"Okay," she said, leaving it at that and turning the conversation back to their current investigation. "So why do you think Yoshioka went after his mother?"
Seymour shrugged. "We'll have to ask the doc that. Maybe she knew what he was doing and he decided to murder her to keep her from testifying against him. Or maybe she abused him as a child. Who knows what went on in his head?"
Murder of the Hula Dancers Page 18