Murder in Maui

by R. Barri Flowers

“Good way to think.” Leila paused. “How did you know Douglas Brennan?”

  Gabe gazed down at her. “We were colleagues.”

  She raised a brow. “Are you a doctor?”

  “An ER trauma surgeon.”

  “I see.” Leila met his eyes. “Would you happen to be member of the Medical Association of Maui?”

  He had already anticipated the question. “I was once, but quit the group.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “Professional differences.”

  “With Douglas Brennan?”

  “With the organization as a whole.”

  Leila flashed a thoughtful look. “Well, I think that will be all for now.”

  That told Gabe there could be more questions later. Did she consider him a suspect in Brennan’s murder? He wasn’t averse to seeing her again, per se, except he was kind of involved with someone else.

  But how long would that last?

  He gave Leila a crooked smile. “If you have any more questions, you can reach me at Maui General or my home number, which you already have.”

  Gabe walked away and had a feeling he was being watched by more than just the lady detective.

  * * *

  Seymour studied Gabe Devane as he separated from Leila and moved back amongst the mourners. There was no outward sign the man was nervous or otherwise hiding a dark secret. But most serial killers were as cool as ice. Some also liked to taunt the police during their reign of terror. Or through reporting another crime incognito, while laughing inside at being hidden in plain view.

  Was this the case with Devane?

  Seymour would dig deeper to see if they might have missed something about the man. Unless Leila had decided his presence at Brennan’s funeral was totally plausible.

  Turning his attention elsewhere, Seymour looked for anything that might suggest someone was out of place. Or perhaps too comfortable in showing up to pay respects. Aside from Devane, no one in particular stood out.

  This hardly meant to Seymour that previous suspects were off the hook. Or that others weren’t waiting to be discovered.

  He had a suspicion their killer was present and may actually be surveying other potential targets.

  Seymour choked back the thought. The last thing anyone wanted was to see another doctor shot to death because they couldn’t identify the shooter beforehand.

  He left his spot to confer with others on the case and what they may or may not have seen.

  * * *

  The doer coolly took in the surroundings as mourners began to break up. Douglas Brennan’s death had brought out those who hated and loved him, as if to see and be seen. It also had the police out in force. Some pretended to be paying their respects. Others were more blatant in the hopes of spotting a killer in their midst.

  But the doer was too smart for all of them. Making it easy for the detectives wasn’t in the cards. There would be no slip up. No graveyard confession. No smoking gun.

  Vengeance was sweet just like fine wine. Douglas Brennan got exactly what was coming to him. Just as Elizabeth Racine and Larry Nagasaka had found themselves on the front end of bullets.

  That none of them lived to see another day was the ultimate justice for bastards who were self-serving in their poor choices.

  The doer showed the appropriate remorse and well wishes for all encountered, as to be expected. Anything less might have made them suspicious. Even the police were hesitant to name the doer as a serious suspect, so careful were they not to focus on the wrong person in their pursuit of justice.

  That was their mistake.

  The doer was happy to be underestimated. Just as Douglas, Elizabeth, and Larry had done. It made the job so much easier and satisfying.

  Passing by Brennan’s sister, the doer gave her a gentle pat on the hand and insincere smile, before moving on and away from a scene that would soon be repeated.

  TWENTY-THREE

  “Have you found it?” Leila’s mother asked impatiently over the phone on Sunday afternoon. “I have other things to do, you know.”

  Leila gritted her teeth. As if she didn’t have more to do than get a book her mother requested—no, ordered—she buy and send to her.

  She switched the cell phone to her other ear. “Not yet.”

  “Do you need the title again?”

  “I wrote it down.” Leila walked down the bookstore aisle that held Hawaiian history titles. She found the book on ancient Hawaii. “Got it.”

  “I’m glad you found it.” Rena sighed. “You could deliver it in person, you know.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You wouldn’t have to stay long.”

  “I’m in the middle of an investigation.”

  “Aren’t you always? Everyone needs a break, including you.”

  “Cops don’t always have that luxury.” Leila had no doubt her mother knew this since she was the daughter and wife of a cop herself. Yet she still liked to push Leila’s buttons.

  “That’s why they run out of steam far too early in life,” Rena stated tersely.

  Leila believed there may be some merit to that. But there were no guarantees the result wouldn’t be the same no matter her profession. But she wasn’t about to debate the issue with her mother while standing in the aisle of the bookstore.

  Leila couldn’t help but notice the girl sitting on a chair holding a Harry Potter book. She was maybe fifteen with long black hair off to one side. There was something strangely familiar about her.

  Leila recalled the age progression sketch she’d done of Iolana Mumea, the eight-year-old who had been abducted by her father seven years ago and was believed to be in Maui.

  Could this be her?

  Or had Leila merely sketched an image that looked more like a different girl?

  “Are you still there?” Rena’s irritation was apparent.

  “I have to go,” Leila did not mind saying.

  “Why?”

  “Something’s come up. I’ll call you later.”

  Leila disconnected before her mother could protest. She focused again on the girl who looked more as if she were daydreaming than reading. Where were her parents?

  Or had she come alone?

  Leila glanced around. She saw no parental figure in sight before deciding to go with her instincts. She approached the girl.

  “Iolana...?”

  The girl looked up immediately. “Are you talking to me?”

  “What’s your name?”

  Before she could answer, Leila heard a deep voice say from behind, “Mily, are you ready to go?”

  Leila turned to see a forty-something, dark haired man with a solid build. He glared at her before walking up to the girl.

  “Yeah.” The girl sprung to her feet. She was tall and pretty.

  After flashing Leila a tentative look, she went with the man.

  Leila sensed that Mily was apprehensive. Or was it just her imagination?

  She certainly wasn’t imagining that the man suddenly seemed in a hurry to leave the bookstore. He grabbed the Harry Potter book from her and tossed it on a table before shuffling Mily toward the door.

  Though off duty and not exactly having probable cause, Leila thought about detaining the man and girl as a possible child abductor and abductee. But with so little to go on other than a vague image in her head, she opted against acting rashly.

  Yet fearing the girl could be crying out for help and not wanting to be left wondering, possibly forever, Leila went against protocol and decided to follow them. She set aside the book for her mother, promising to come back for it.

  * * *

  Leila saw the girl named Mily and the man she believed could be Jordan Mumea get into a Ford Bronco. Hurrying to her car, Leila ducked down as the Bronco drove by. She started the ignition and waited a moment before pursuing.

  She got close enough to see the license plate number. Getting on her cell phone, Leila rang Lt. Tanji.

  “Kahana, what can I do for you?”

  “I thin
k it’s more the other way around.” Leila tensed. “I may have spotted Iolana Mumea, the little girl taken by her father seven years ago.”

  “Really? Where?”

  She told him. “The man called the girl Mily, but she seemed to respond when I asked if her name was Iolana.”

  “Maybe she was only curious,” he said.

  “She’s about the same age Iolana would be now and comes pretty close to the age progression composite.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “In a Bronco just ahead of me. I can give you the license plate number.”

  “Do it.”

  Leila moved a little closer. “SKN 259”

  She waited while he ran the number. Would it be nothing more than a wild goose chase? Or might she be on the verge of reuniting a mother and daughter?

  It made Leila think about the relationship she had with her own mother. Would they ever truly be on the same page? Or was micromanaging her life something Leila would have to learn to live with?

  “The vehicle is registered to a Kent Mumea,” Tanji said. “I think you may be onto something.”

  “I hope so. If it is Iolana, she deserves to be with the person who has legal custody of her.”

  “You won’t get any disagreement there. Give me your location and I’ll take over from here.”

  Leila was reluctant to let the car out of her sight. If somehow Jordan were onto her, he could bolt and leave the island with the girl.

  “I’ll stick with them till someone can take over.”

  “Not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not? I don’t have anything better to do right now and unless you want to risk them vanishing again.”

  Tanji checked her. “All right. Keep a visual on the suspect. We’ll put out an APB on Jordan Mumea.”

  Leila hung up, getting an adrenalin rush in pursuing something other than her normal killers. At least Iolana was alive, unlike many missing people by the time they were found.

  She thought about calling Seymour and apprising him of the situation. But since he was also off duty and planning to attend his daughter’s birthday party, Leila chose not to use the needy card or play on Seymour’s affections. She even understood why she wasn’t invited. Being in the same space as Mele would only make things awkward for everyone under the circumstances.

  It would be difficult enough for Seymour. Or so she wanted to believe.

  The Bronco made a right turn onto Papalaua Street. Leila followed and slowed down when the car pulled into a driveway. The man and girl got out and hurried inside the house.

  Leila phoned it in. She suspected Jordan Mumea was ready to flee again.

  Not this time, if she could help it.

  * * *

  Carrying several gifts he’d wrapped himself, Seymour walked across the park toward his daughter’s birthday party that was in full swing. He considered that Mele might not want him there, but that was her problem. He had as much right to celebrate Akela’s ninth birthday as she did, in spite of their pending divorce.

  Though it still bothered him, especially being blindsided with the papers, Seymour would not let that take away from what Akela had come to mean to them.

  Mele intercepted him just as he was about to join Akela and her friends gathered around a picnic table.

  “I didn’t expect you to come,” she said.

  “I don’t know why the hell not. Believe it or not, I still love our daughter, even if you’ve stopped loving me.”

  It hurt to even draw that conclusion. Seymour had no choice but to live with it.

  Mele’s brow furrowed. “I thought we agreed that while we’re going through a divorce, it was best not to spend too much time together pretending to be a happy family, only confusing her more.”

  “Maybe you should give Akela a bit more credit than that.” Seymour took a breath. “She knows things aren’t right between us, considering we now live in separate houses. I’m sure she has friends from broken homes.”

  “So that’s supposed to make it all right?”

  His nostrils grew. “Hey, I’m not the one who kicked you out and served divorce papers.”

  “This isn’t the time or place.”

  “There’s never a time or place to air one’s dirty laundry. What do you want me to say?”

  She rested a hand on her hip. “Please don’t make a scene.”

  “I don’t intend to. All I want is to wish my daughter a happy birthday and I’ll be on my way.”

  “Fine.” Mele glanced at the girls. “Just try not to make her any promises you can’t or won’t keep.”

  That stung, but Seymour shrugged it off. He wished he had the type of job that wasn’t often 24/7. It was what it was, though, and all he could do was give his best shot to do right by Akela, even if too late for Mele.

  * * *

  “How’s my birthday girl?” Seymour scooped Akela into his arms.

  “You remembered,” she said jubilantly.

  “Of course. My favorite girl in the whole world doesn’t turn nine every year.”

  She giggled. “Can I open my gifts now?”

  “Don’t let me stop you.”

  He glanced at Mele, who stayed a safe distance from him, but close enough to present a façade for their daughter, before watching Akela’s friends gather around her. Akela eagerly opened the gift-wrapped packages to reveal a jewelry making kit, a scroll with her name on it, and a child’s sewing machine.

  Akela flashed a thousand watt smile. “Thank you, Daddy. I love everything!”

  “I’m glad to hear that, honey.”

  She looked to her mother for a reaction.

  Mele forced a smile. “They’re great gifts,” she conceded, meeting Seymour’s eyes.

  He took some solace in that while silently thanking Leila for pointing him in the right direction in making sure he couldn’t lose buying Akela’s birthday presents. He wished Leila could be there with him. Especially since Mele apparently had no interest in his company anymore. But this was all about Akela today.

  He hoped she and Leila might have the opportunity to become friends one day.

  * * *

  Gina stood among the kiawe trees in the park, hidden from view of those gathered nearby at the picnic table. They were having a birthday party. She honed in on the birthday girl, pretty as could be and seemingly enjoying the attention.

  It was all Gina could do not to cry. The one they called Akela was in fact her little girl. She had made the painful choice to give her up for adoption after carelessly getting pregnant from a john. What kind of life would that have been for her as the daughter of a whore? And since Gina had no real working skills, how else would she have raised her daughter?

  She’d never considered having an abortion because it went against everything Gina believed in. So she had the child and gave her up in the hope she would be placed with a decent family and have a good life.

  By all accounts, that seemed to have come true. Three years ago, overcome with guilt and curiosity, Gina had hired a private detective to help locate her daughter. Ever since then she had tried to check in on her secretly from time to time to make sure Akela was being well cared for.

  Maybe someday her daughter would want to meet her.

  By then, maybe Gina would have long gotten out of the sex business. Until then she was content to keep her little secret all to herself.

  * * *

  The knock on the driver’s side window nearly gave Leila a heart attack. For an instant she thought it might be Jordan Mumea, having slipped out the back door and prepared to do whatever was necessary to keep his daughter separated from her mother.

  Instead Leila saw Lt. Tanji. She took a breath and rolled down the window.

  “They still in there?” he asked.

  “As far as I know.”

  “Good. Hope you’re right about this, Kahana.”

  She gave him a faint smile. “You and me both.”

  Tanji made eye contact with others who had tak
en positions. “Wait here.”

  “I’d rather be in on it, if you don’t mind.”

  “Do you have your weapon?”

  “No, but everyone else does, so I can live with that.”

  He considered this and nodded. “With any luck, no one has to get hurt.”

  Leila approached the residence beside Tanji, flanked by detectives and uniformed officers with weapons drawn.

  Tanji knocked on the door while shouting, “Police!”

  It was opened by the man Leila saw at the bookstore.

  “Are you Jordan Mumea?” asked Tanji.

  “Yeah, that’s me.” His head slumped down.

  “You’re under arrest for abducting your daughter.”

  As he was handcuffed, Leila made her way inside, hoping the girl hadn’t been harmed. There was no one else downstairs.

  She slowly emerged from an upstairs bedroom, looking scared, but in good condition.

  “Iolana?” Leila asked.

  She remained mute. “I’m Detective Kahana. We’re here to take you back to your mother, Ingrid Mumea.”

  Iolana did not move for a moment, then she ran into Leila’s arms and she knew the good guys had won this battle. Her one wish was that Iolana did not come to regret the major changes this was about to bring to the life she had known for the past seven years.

  Now if only they could slap the handcuffs on a serial killer, everyone in the department could breathe a little easier.

  * * *

  That evening Seymour showed up at Leila’s door. He probably should have called first, but here he was. Maybe she would send him away.

  He hoped Leila would invite him to stay for a while.

  She opened the door, wearing a bathrobe. He guessed there was nothing beneath it.

  “Hi,” he said.

  She smiled. “How was the party?”

  “Probably not half as exciting as yours.”

  “You heard about that?”

  “Who hasn’t? Your perception is remarkable. Not to mention you’ve got damned good detective skills.”

  Leila batted her lashes. “Maybe you’re beginning to rub off on me a little.”

  “Then I guess I’m doing my job.” He met her eyes. She still hadn’t invited him in. Could that be a bad sign? “Hope you weren’t busy.”

  “Actually I was—busy waiting for you.”