Murder in Maui

by R. Barri Flowers

  After radioing it in, Long got out of the car. Though seeing no other person in sight, he removed his weapon and proceeded toward the downed man with caution.

  It took only one look at his shattered remains to know they were likely dealing with a homicide.

  * * *

  Leila was given a start as she was awakened by the phone ringing. Recognizing her ring tone, she untangled herself from Seymour’s hard body and stretched an arm to grab the cell phone from the nightstand.

  The Caller ID told her it was Lt. Ortega.

  “Hi, Lieutenant.” She glanced at Seymour who was beginning to stir.

  “Sorry to wake you, Kahana, but we’ve got another murder on our hands.”

  “Who?”

  “Douglas Brennan, CEO of the Medical Association of Maui. He was shot to death in front of his home.”

  Leila hummed with surprise.

  “Haven’t been able to reach Seymour,” Ortega said.

  Leila eyed her lover. “I’ll make sure he gets the message.” She hung up, wondering if Ortega knew about them.

  Seymour sat up. “What is it?” he asked, propping on one elbow.

  “Brennan is dead. Looks like our unsub may have struck again.”

  Seymour belted out an expletive and hopped out of bed. Leila admired his naked body only long enough for him to admire hers before turning into homicide detective mode.

  Within twenty minutes they arrived at the Makena residence. The crime scene had already been secured and cordoned off from the public. Leila and Seymour identified themselves and made their way through.

  They were met halfway by Officer Kelly Long. “I was the first one to arrive at the scene,” he said. “The victim was dead by that time. Apparently he was just coming home when ambushed by someone.”

  Leila winced. “Bad timing.” She suspected it wouldn’t have mattered what time Brennan had arrived home. Someone wanted him dead. Quite possibly the same person who had killed Elizabeth Racine and Larry Nagasaka. “Did you see anyone else?”

  “Wish I had. Whoever did it got away.”

  Leila stifled a yawn. “Hopefully not for long.”

  She kept walking till she stood over the body. A nighttime photographer, Sheila Walker, was busy capturing images of the decedent.

  “Tough way to go,” she said.

  “What way isn’t?” Leila rolled her eyes and studied the victim. If she hadn’t remembered the suit Douglas Brennan had worn, she might not believe it was him, since half his face had been blown off. He had also been shot at least once in the chest.

  She noted the briefcase on the grass had bullet holes in it and nodded at Seymour.

  “I’m guessing Brennan somehow thought that might protect him,” he said.

  “He guessed wrong.” Leila looked at Long. “Has the house been searched?”

  “Yeah. We had to use the victim’s key to get inside. Brennan left behind a cat. It was unharmed. No sign anything was disturbed or missing. And Brennan’s wallet was still in his pocket, so it doesn’t look like a robbery.”

  “Not surprised. The M.O. suggests this had nothing to do with robbing the victim. The murder was personal.”

  She watched Seymour head toward the bushes in front of the house, following him.

  “What do you see?”

  He pointed toward a slight indentation. “My guess is the killer hid inside the bushes, waiting for Brennan to show his face.”

  “You think?”

  Seymour used gloved hands to separate the bushes. “It’s a long shot, but the unsub may have left behind DNA, a footprint, or other clues.”

  He instructed the CSI team to see what evidence they could gather there.

  “Brennan must have seen the killer’s face before losing half his own.” Leila gave Seymour a sour look as they headed away from the crime scene.

  He scratched his jaw. “Yeah. Too bad he’s not in a position to share that knowledge.”

  It was something Leila was painfully aware of as they searched for the person who murdered Douglas Brennan.

  * * *

  Seymour wanted only to get away from the scene and digest the latest murder investigation. But no sooner had they stepped outside the crime scene tape when he spotted Renee Bradley weaving her way to get to them. The twenty-something pesky reporter was never far from a news story.

  And this certainly had the makings of one whether Seymour liked it or not.

  “Don’t look now,” he told Leila, “but I think we’re about to be cornered.”

  Leila sniffled. “I wondered how long it would take her to show up. You want to handle this? Or shall I?”

  “We can both take her on. Ms. Bradley doesn’t intimidate easily.”

  “Neither do I.”

  He grinned, as this was part of what attracted him to Leila. “Ah, Renee, funny we should run into you. Or is it the other way around?”

  Renee was not amused. “Why don’t you tell me about the latest murder to hit Maui?”

  “I’m sure you realize we can’t comment on an ongoing investigation.” Unless it benefited them to speak to the press.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Can you at least confirm the deceased is Douglas Brennan, CEO of the Medical Association of Maui?”

  Seymour wondered who her source was. Could be anyone on the force, other than himself or Leila.

  “We’d rather not. At least not until the next of kin is notified.”

  This didn’t seem to faze her. “From what I understand, the victim was shot to death in a manner similar to the deaths of Elizabeth Racine and Larry Nagasaka. Is this hunting season against doctors or what?”

  “It’s premature to speculate on any relationship between the current victim and others,” Leila said with an edge to her voice.

  “Premature for who, Detective? I think the public has a right to know if we’ve got a serial killer in our midst.”

  “Right now there’s no indication we’re dealing with a serial killer. Whether these murders are linked or not remains to be seen.”

  In Seymour’s mind there was little doubt the connection was there—whether the same killer or a copycat. The real questions were who should they be looking for and could they find the person before another doctor was shot to death?

  “Well, can you at least tell me if you have any suspects in either investigation?” Renee eyed him.

  Seymour had no intention of baiting the bait only to have it blow up in their faces. Yes, they had at least one person of interest on the radar. Until they had him in custody, there was no reason to spill the beans and draw the ire of Lt. Ortega for one. Not to mention, being a suspect was not the same thing as being guilty.

  Except in the eyes of the press.

  “There’s no one in custody right now,” he told her. “But we’re doing everything we can to change that. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a job to do.”

  Seymour gave her a hard look and Renee got the message. He fully expected to go through this again soon. Hopefully by then they would have something useful to say.

  SEVENTEEN

  Ferguson squeezed his eyes shut and clutched Gina’s shoulders as she held his erection in her mouth, teasing the shaft with her tongue and teeth till he exploded.

  He pulled himself out and wished he could stay longer. But duty called.

  “I have to go,” he told her.

  “So what else is new?”

  He grinned, zipping his pants. “Don’t be like that.”

  Gina got off her knees. “Going back to the wife and pretending things are fine?”

  “They are fine. We have an understanding.” Or he did. “Anyway, I’m still on duty.”

  “When will I see you again?”

  “Whenever.” He ran a hand along the side of her soft face. “I can see myself out.”

  “Whatever.”

  Ferguson thought it was sexy when she pouted. Whereas when Brenda pouted, it was plain old unappealing.

  In his car, he heard the latest on
the murder of CEO Douglas Brennan. Gunned down in front of his home. So far no suspects named. Ferguson couldn’t help but think about Travis Takamori. His alibi had held up for the murders of Racine and Nagasaka, insofar as giving Takamori someone who supported his story. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still a suspect. As far as Ferguson was concerned, no one could be ruled out till the actual killer was in custody.

  Same was true for the killer of Douglas Brennan, assuming they weren’t one and the same.

  Ferguson called his wife, not particularly wanting to talk to her, but feeling obliged to tell her he would be later than expected.

  “Hey,” he said nonchalantly.

  “Hi.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Waiting for you.” Brenda paused. “Or shouldn’t I?”

  Ferguson sighed. “You probably shouldn’t. There’s been a murder. I have to do my part in the investigation. I’ll get home as soon as I can.”

  “I’m sure you will.” Her voice was thick with sarcasm.

  Ferguson gripped the steering wheel. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  “How many times have I heard that?”

  “Probably too many,” he conceded. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  “Then go. I’m sure you can heat up your own food when you get here. I’m going to bed.”

  He heard the phone disconnect and Ferguson felt a strange sense of relief that the issues between them could be put off for at least another day.

  * * *

  Rachel rang the bell of a house across the street from Douglas Brennan’s. They were hoping someone saw something. From experience, she’d learned most people were reluctant to get involved where it concerned homicides. Especially when the killer was still at large, as though they might be targeted next as a result of speaking out.

  A thirty-something woman came to the door.

  “Hi. I’m Detective Lancaster of the Maui P.D. I’m investigating—”

  “I know. The death of Doug Brennan. I saw the shooter. I’m Jessie Cortez. Please come in.”

  Rachel lifted a brow. Inside the home, she could tell immediately that Jessie was part of a military family. There were photographs of her and a young man in uniform, ribbon magnets, and decals decorating the place. It made Rachel think of Greg and what they were missing.

  “I can’t believe this happened.” Jessie rolled her eyes. “I didn’t know Doug very well, but he seemed like a nice man who pretty much kept to himself since his divorce. He didn’t deserve to die like that.”

  “No, he didn’t.” Rachel agreed. And Larry Nagasaka and Elizabeth Racine should still be alive. Someone obviously felt otherwise. “So tell me what you saw, Ms. Cortez.”

  “I was just putting my baby to sleep when I heard the pops. I knew it was the sound of gunfire.” Jessie touched her lips. “When I looked out the window, that’s when I saw Doug lying in his driveway. Then I turned and saw someone running down the street like their pants were on fire.”

  Rachel took notes. “So you didn’t actually see the shooting take place?”

  Jessie shook her head. “It probably would’ve given me nightmares.”

  “Was the person you saw male or female?”

  “It was dark and I only saw them from the back, but I think it was a man.”

  “How tall would you say he was?”

  Jessie shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe six feet or less.”

  “Can you describe his clothes?”

  “No, not really. Just that they were dark. I was too freaked out to think anything like this could happen in our neighborhood.”

  “I understand.” Rachel spoke softly. “Unfortunately no area is safe when someone is determined to kill you.”

  Jessie arched a brow. “Does this have anything to do with those other two doctors who were killed?”

  “That’s yet to be determined.” At least officially. Unofficially Rachel was sure the shootings were more than mere coincidence. Now they needed to prove it.

  “My husband’s a medic in the Army, serving in Afghanistan,” Jessie said. “I wish he were home now, but the last thing I’d ever want is to see someone go after him here.”

  Rachel wished she could be so fortunate to have Greg still serving his country. Unfortunately his luck had run out.

  “You’re right,” she told her. “You wouldn’t want to see that.”

  * * *

  “I’m sure it was a woman I saw running away from the house after Dr. Brennan was shot,” said Albert Shuri, the neighbor who called 911.

  Ferguson favored the sixty-something man with narrowed eyes. “What makes you so sure? Earlier you said it was too dark to make out much other than the sounds.”

  Albert touched his glasses. “I heard the pop, pop, pop,” he said. “When I went to the window, the first thing I did was look in the direction I thought it was coming from. I saw what looked like someone on the ground...Dr. Brennan, turns out. It took a moment before I stepped outside. That’s when I saw the person on the move. Sure it was dark, but there were street lights.”

  “Describe the person for me.”

  “Tall, thin, wore dark clothes.”

  Ferguson took this down. “Could you tell if the hair was long or short?”

  Albert slouched. “Neither. Probably shoulder length.”

  “Hair color?”

  “Not sure. Maybe brown.”

  “Did you see her face?”

  “She never looked back.”

  Ferguson leaned toward him. “Did she get into a car?”

  “Can’t say. She disappeared into the darkness.”

  “Did you see anyone else?” Ferguson asked.

  Albert shook his head. “Not till the officer showed up.”

  “Guess that’s all for now.”

  “So was it a robbery or what?”

  Ferguson put his pad away. From what he understood there was no evidence of forced entry or burglary.

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that,” he told him. “Whoever killed Douglas Brennan had a different agenda.”

  * * *

  Officer Natalie Yuen was cruising around Pukalani and thinking about the hot sex with her lover this morning when she spotted the BMW weaving dangerously in and out of traffic. Either the driver was in a hurry to go nowhere or, more likely, was inebriated.

  She went in pursuit and hoped the person was cooperative for everyone’s sake.

  The driver obeyed her command to pull over. A good first step. After stopping behind the vehicle, she approached.

  Under the beam of her flashlight, Natalie observed a white male at the wheel. He appeared to be in his mid to late thirties, dressed casually, and was calm.

  Maybe too calm.

  “Can I see your driver’s license, sir?”

  He hesitated. “Did I do something wrong, officer?”

  “You were driving erratically.”

  “Didn’t mean to. Guess I was a little impatient. Sorry about that.”

  “License,” she said again while scanning the interior of vehicle. There was a closed bag on the passenger side of the front seat and some CDs strewn on the back seat.

  “Sure.” He pulled the license from his wallet and handed it to her.

  Natalie studied it. Jeremy Lockhart of 4189 Aapueo Parkway. She compared the photo with his face.

  “Have you been drinking, Mr. Lockhart?”

  “I had a couple of drinks, but I’m not drunk.”

  She shone the light on his eyes. “I think maybe you are. What’s in the bag?”

  He turned away. “Nothing.”

  Natalie knew a lie when she heard it. Her first thought was that he had a gun.

  “I’d like you to step out of the car.”

  When he hesitated, she drew her own weapon, not taking any chances.

  EIGHTEEN

  The next morning, Leila entered the conference room with Seymour, separating before taking chairs amongst the detectives. Though they had not talked about keeping t
heir relationship under wraps, neither saw the need to advertise it either. Certainly not in the middle of a homicide investigation.

  “As everyone here knows, Douglas Brennan was gunned down last night,” Lt. Ortega said grimly. “That makes three doctors killed in the past two weeks—all members of the Medical Association of Maui. We won’t know if we’re dealing with the same shooter till ballistics compares the bullets. But it’s reasonable to assume that’s the case under the circumstances.”

  Leila leaned forward. “What about the suspect brought in last night?”

  “Had to let him go. Though he tested positive for gunshot residue, there was no weapon found and Jeremy Lockhart’s alibi of being at work as an X-ray technician around the time Brennan was shot held up. Also, his clothing didn’t match what witnesses described the shooter wearing. We were able to get him for DUI, though. He’s still a suspect, but we don’t have enough to hold him.”

  Leila concurred, even if it would have been so nice if a simple traffic stop had brought this nightmare to an end. “How did he explain the GSR?”

  “He didn’t. Basically suggested it must have been from cross contamination. We couldn’t dispute it, given the number of particles he tested positive for.”

  “Our perp could still be a woman,” Rachel said. “Witnesses have made conflicting statements over whether a person seen running from the scene of the latest homicide was a male or female. This seems to fall in step with the unsub in the murders of Racine and Nagasaka.”

  “Maybe we’re looking at a male and female working together,” Ferguson stated. “I say we haul in Melissa Eng and Travis Takamori. Both their alibis were shaky and I wouldn’t put it past Eng to get her drug crazed nephew to do her dirty work.”

  “I think you’re right.” Ortega nodded. “Let’s bring them in and see what they have to say.”

  “Might be a good idea to talk to Brennan’s ex-wife, too,” Seymour said. “There obviously was no love lost between them. And she probably wasn’t a big fan of Larry Nagasaka either, since he dumped her for Elizabeth Racine. Maybe Courtney Brennan decided to make some people pay for getting on her bad side.”

  “Makes sense. Do it.” Ortega looked at Leila. “Any other suggestions for trying to find a killer?”