Paradise Crime Series Box Set

by Toby Neal

  She didn’t know what else to say, how to end the sentence, so she just hit Send.

  What did she want to say? That she missed him?

  Because Sophie did miss Connor, a hollow ache that felt strange and unfamiliar, a perpetual gnaw like the bite of hunger. It wasn’t even that she imagined being back in his arms; it was more that there was a sense of something missing. Something essential.

  She shied away from what that might mean, and looked up as Lei and Pono entered the interview room.

  The lawyer introduced herself as Davida Fuller. Pono apprised Taggart of his rights, and turned on the recording equipment.

  “I can explain.” Taggart smiled, the charming grin that Sophie remembered upon first meeting him. “I didn’t kill Mano. You alibied me out before, remember?”

  “Then why did you run?” Lei pinned him with her patented bad cop stare.

  “You surprised me at my door, in my home.” Taggart made a little shooing motion with his hand. “I need a cigarette. Any chance…”

  “No chance. You ran from us, and your backpack has some very interesting contents.”

  Taggart shrugged.

  “Your backpack was full of artifacts.”

  “All legit. I was transporting them for my company.”

  “You were stealing those artifacts, and Mano blackmailed you about it. We found your name on the blackmail list in Mano’s computer.”

  That wasn’t true. Sophie frowned. They would have been on Taggart much sooner if his name had been there.

  As if to confirm Lei’s provocative comment, Taggart leaned forward and rubbed his eyes, pointing to the lawyer beside him. “Got any advice for me?”

  “No comment. You say no comment. They’re just fishing. They have to prove anything you don’t tell them.”

  Taggart turned back to Lei and Pono. “Well, if you want the truth, I had a little weed in the apartment, all right? And no medical card. So, I put it in my pack along with some artifacts I was taking to the office.”

  “We found the weed. It’s a misdemeanor. Why wouldn’t you just sit and talk with us for a few minutes, instead?”

  Taggart rubbed his lips. “I really need a cigarette.”

  “Filthy habit,” Fuller said. She turned to face the detectives. “Running away is not a declaration of guilt, contrary to popular opinion.”

  “He resisted…”

  “A private security operative who was masquerading as a police officer? My client distinctly heard her call out, “MPD” and she is not in the MPD.”

  Sophie’s mouth went dry. She had called out MPD in order to alert Lei and Pono to Taggart’s runaway; now it was being used against her.

  “We think these artifacts are stolen and that’s why you ran from us,” Lei said. “You knew we had figured out that Mano was blackmailing you, and that you had motive to kill him.”

  “It was just the weed. I swear.”

  “No comment,” Fuller said loudly. She stood up. “And now, if you don’t have any further questions for my client, we’ll be going.”

  “No you will not.” Lei ignored Fuller, focusing on Taggart. “We checked with your archaeology company. The items we confiscated from your backpack were never logged in anywhere. We are placing you under arrest for the stealing of important relics from the State of Hawaii.”

  Fuller turned to him. “This is minor. We’ll get you out on bail as soon as you have a hearing.”

  Taggart’s cynical dark eyes widened, and real apprehension showed in them for the first time. “No. I didn’t steal those artifacts. Yes, they weren’t logged in, and I know how it looks. Hence the desire to hotfoot it back to headquarters and log them in.”

  Fuller sat down. “Do you want to tell them anything more? Because it will be used in the case against you for stealing the artifacts.”

  Taggart narrowed his eyes. “We both know that’s just an excuse to hold me so they can search my apartment and computer, try to find something connecting me to Mano.”

  Lei leaned forward. “So why don’t you save us all some hassle and tell us about that? I’m sure hitting him was a heat of the moment kind of thing. The man was a scumbag. Perhaps he threatened you, asked for more money? Perhaps you found out that he sold the GPR report to Blackthorne?”

  “He did?” Taggart’s brows drew together. “He really was a scumbag, blackmailing people. Selling out the GPR report. But I didn’t know any of that. I never saw him that evening, I swear. I wish I had a better alibi, because I was alone, paddling my canoe—but it’s the truth. And please, take those relics to my company and ask Peggy, our VP of Operations, to log them in. I was getting sloppy, is all, and it bit me on the ass. And now I’m done talking.”

  Dr. Brett Taggart folded his arms and sat back, and he really was done talking. Nothing Lei or Pono tried after that worked to get him to say anything but, “No comment.” Sophie felt sad and deflated as she watched the archaeologist be led away to booking.

  How had she been so wrong about him?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sophie got into her rent-a-car and headed out from Kahului Station. The Ford Fiesta had little acceleration power, exactly how she felt, thinking about the interview with Taggart. How had she been so wrong about him?

  He’d lured her into believing in him with his jokes, with his insouciant, friendly manner.

  She had helped solve the case. It was now on Lei and Pono to find evidence linking Taggart to the body more definitively.

  She checked her phone. A text had arrived from Connor: “I talked to Bix. He needs you on the Maui job, no one available to cover. I guess that we will just have to endure the separation…I miss you already, damn it. So does Anubis.” He had attached a picture of the Doberman with his head on his paws, his eyes drooping sadly, his ears comically out to the side, an expression Sophie had never seen on the alert guard dog. She snorted a laugh even as her heart squeezed.

  “I miss you too.” The words were inadequate to describe the empty, numb feeling that was almost a sensation in her body, an ache and a weariness that reminded her of depression, but was topped by a fillip of longing.

  “Take precautions. Warn Jake about the threat against you and stay close to him,” came back from Connor.

  Sophie frowned. “No,” she said aloud. Jake didn’t need to get any more stressed out than he already was with the Miller job. She’d be safe on that armed, alarmed compound, in a guest room next to Jake’s. The last thing she needed was an overprotective man hovering and ordering her around.

  Kahului was a snarl of stop-and-go traffic. Portly tourists from the cruise ships parked in the harbor made their sweaty way along the sidewalks. Motor scooters whizzed by homeless people pushing shopping carts. Other than a preponderance of pickup trucks and cars with surfboards on them, Maui’s largest town could have been anywhere in Southern California—except for the coconut palm trees waving in the constant breeze along the thoroughfare.

  Sophie pulled into Shank Miller’s lush compound’s driveway in Wailea. At the familiar stone obelisk, she told her business and was admitted.

  Jake came out of the outbuilding that held the rock star’s home gym. Shirtless, in loose-fitting sweats, he’d clearly been working out. He pumped a twenty-pound dumbbell as he approached her, and the noonday sun was kind to his gleaming musculature.

  Following Jake out of the workout room was a six-foot tall man with long black hair past his shoulders, wiry arms covered in full sleeve tattoos, and white skin marked by a rosy flush of exertion and sunburn.

  “Dude. Who is this goddess?” The man’s grin was appreciative as Sophie got out of the Fiesta. A gap where a canine tooth should have been lent a piratical look to his face, an impression enhanced by the gold hoop in his ear.

  “Sophie, meet Shank Miller,” Jake said, gesturing to the rocker with the dumbbell. “Lead singer of the band known as Shank.”

  “Hello. I’m Jake’s partner.” Sophie shook the rocker’s hand. “I’m sorry, I’m not famil
iar with your work, but I am pleased to meet you.”

  “Not familiar with my work, huh? I’ll have to give you a CD.”

  “Thank you, but I usually listen to classical. You were away last time I came by your home. I hope Jake isn’t working you too hard in the gym.”

  Miller flexed a ropy arm, and his tattoos rippled like fabric. “He’s doing the best he can with this pasty boy from Seattle. I’m going to have a pumped-up body any day now. I’ve promised my manager.” He winked. “Going shirtless now just scares the girls.”

  “Your chest is a little underdeveloped, but I’m sure there are some women who like that tortured artist heroin addict look,” Sophie said.

  A shocked pause, then Miller tipped his head back and laughed. “Contrary to how I appear, I’ve never been into drugs, but clearly I need to get back to my workout and take in a few more calories. Gimme that weight, Jake.” Miller took the dumbbell and pretended to tip over from the heaviness. “This tortured artist needs feeding. Antigua!” Miller bellowed as he headed for the house, attempting the arm curls Jake had been doing. “I need food!”

  Jake grinned at Sophie. “Welcome to Hale Kai when the king is in residence.”

  “He’s funny. I like him.” Sophie turned and reached in to grab her duffel bag.

  “You called him a tortured artist who looks like a heroin addict!” Jake was still grinning as he led the way to their guest bungalow. “Told him his chest was underdeveloped. I’m going to have a field day using that one to motivate him in the gym.” He rubbed his hands together in glee.

  “Oh, I shouldn’t have said that.” Sophie let Jake unlock the door and usher them into the tidy, compact space inside the cottage. “It was tactless of me.”

  “Ya think? It was priceless. Thank you for the laughs.” Jake gestured past the small living area filled with a couch and flat screen TV to a pair of closed doors down a short hallway. “Yours is on the left. Want to catch me up on your case?”

  “Yes. A lot broke on the case after you left me at Kakela.” Sophie chucked the duffel on the bed, but kept her large messenger bag filled with computer equipment. “Where’s the security command center? I can get started setting up the nanny cam software.”

  Jake had put on a shirt and rejoined her in the living area. “It’s inside the main house. But seriously, you can take a load off for a few. Have a beer.” He popped the top on a Longboard Lager, and handed it to her.

  Sophie dropped the computer case onto the couch. “I presume Mr. Miller is a casual employer.”

  “You presume right.”

  Sophie took a sip of the lager and glanced out the nearby picture window. The guest cottage faced the back corner of the property that backed up to the beachfront mansion, and Sophie looked over the high cement wall separating the houses—but in the second floor of Long’s house, all the lights were on, and she could see inside.

  Two husky movers were carting a piece of furniture out of the room. She pointed with the neck of the beer. “What’s going on over there?”

  “I checked with the realtor when I saw a lot of activity going on. Mr. Long is putting the house up for sale.”

  Sophie frowned, wondering at the timing. She took a sip of the lager, but she didn’t really want this beer. She forced her attention back to Jake. “So they arrested Brett Taggart,” she said. “After Pomai Magnuson pointed a finger at him. I feel really bad that I so misjudged him. Looks like he was stealing artifacts, probably selling them on the black market.”

  Jake stretched his long legs out and put his feet on the seat of the chair in front of him. “But does that make him a murderer?”

  Sophie shook her head. She set the beer down. “I don’t know. I’m having trouble seeing it. I’m actually having trouble seeing him as an artifact smuggler either. He seemed to care so much about the site, and his job. But he is brash and cocky, and probably doesn’t like following the rules.”

  “You wouldn’t know anyone else like that, would you?” Jake tipped his bottle toward her with a grin.

  Sophie smiled. “I guess I would, now that you mention it.”

  She was so relieved that the tension between them had lifted. She looked around the cottage. It was small, but artfully decorated with mirrors and a few ocean landscapes that helped create an open, airy feel. Hopefully she and Jake would have enough room to stay out of each other’s space.

  Jake finished his beer as Sophie unpacked, putting her few clothes away in the small bureau and setting up her laptop on the desk in the corner. She returned to the main room. “Show me to the command center.”

  The security center of the house was located in what must have been a den at one time: an air of masculine retreat remained, fostered by a pair of deep leather armchairs, a small pool table, and a flat screen TV that took up most of one wall. But there the resemblance ended. Jake had set up a bank of monitors on a table along another wall, and they cycled through views of the property from various angles. A young Hawaiian man looked up as they entered and gave her the shaka hand signal. “You must be the tech expert Jake has been waiting for.”

  Sophie shook his hand, introducing herself. “Where are the camera nodes for the nanny cam software?”

  “I was hoping you could use all of these current views and camera positions to feed in,” Jake said. “It took me and Ronnie here a week to put up all of these cams and network them.”

  “They look good at first glance. We can use all of that, and put in more or different positions if we’re not getting enough data. Where is Mr. Miller, currently?”

  “In the gym.” Ronnie tapped a sensor screen in front of him and pulled up one of the squares. The monitor immediately filled with a view of a panting Miller doing sit-ups, a pair of headphones wrapped around his ears.

  “I have him put on a tracking bracelet as soon as he gets to Hawaii,” Jake said. “We have tracking software and the video cams tuned to his signal, so we can find him anytime he’s within range.”

  “Seems very sensible. Have you been collecting data on the household patterns for the artificial intelligence program to process, once I’ve got it installed?”

  “I left that for you to set up, along with the program installation,” Jake said. We do have a lot of stored video, but we only got the whole system going last week, so…”

  “Find me a decent chair, then,” Sophie said. Ronnie jumped up and fetched one of several leather office chairs rolled against the window as Sophie dug into her computer case and removed a small external hard drive.

  She took out her headphones and edged Ronnie’s chair out of the way, plugging both her headphones and the hard drive apparatus into the main computer bank located beneath the table. “I’d appreciate some time alone to work on this,” she said, sitting down and cracking the knuckles of her good hand. “I’m sure you two can find something else to do.”

  “I think we’ve just been dismissed,” Jake said to Ronnie, but Sophie was already checked out, her fingers flying on the keyboard she had appropriated from Ronnie’s station as she got to work. The software went in and up with few problems, but required some adjustment of the main computer’s current workflow and programs, and Sophie got lost in Beethoven and data flow.

  She looked up eventually, realizing, by the low light of afternoon, that several hours had passed. She felt cramped and needed the bathroom, but didn’t feel comfortable finding one in the house. She went back to the cottage, used the restroom, and stared thoughtfully out the window at the mansion next door. The activity seemed to have settled down, but the lights were all still on.

  What was going on with Aki Long?

  They hadn’t found any association or connection between him and Seth Mano, and Lei had told her that the Hui’s treasurer had been at a fundraiser dinner on the night of the murder. She stretched, lifting her arms high over her head and bending over, glad that she’d worn her usual stretch pants and tank top. She went through a quick five-minute yoga routine, and decided it couldn’t hurt to ha
ve DAVID do a quick search on Long’s current activities.

  She plugged the Internet cable into the powerful laptop, brought in a kitchen chair, and sat down. She activated all the firewalls she could—using DAVID outside of a secure facility like the FBI or Connor’s “Batcave” was taking a risk of detection, but she couldn’t relax until she investigated what he was up to.

  DAVID worked by assembling data and searching keywords—but she had a hard time coming up with anything besides Aki Long’s name for the program to mine for. She didn’t know what she was even looking for, and that felt frustrating. She set the program to data mining for anything to do with his name and Long Enterprises, his business, and then she got up and shut the bedroom door.

  “What’re you up to?” Jake’s voice made her jump. He was standing in the doorway, and missing a shirt again.

  “Just getting my personal rig going.” Sophie brushed past her partner. “I have the nanny cam software set up. It’s begun analyzing the video data you’ve collected so far, but I suspect it will need another week or so to train. I can tell you spent a while adjusting the angles and so on with the video.”

  “Yeah. It’s a lot of trial and error during the set-up phase.” Jake cleared his throat. “Shank wants to get to know you better. Commands your attendance at dinner, where he informs me he will be calorie-loading.”

  Sophie glanced at the clock over the cottage’s mini-stove. “What time? I’d like to take a little beach walk. Stretch my legs.”

  “About an hour. I’m grabbing a shower. Shank made me work out hard after your insults.” Jake grinned.

  “Sounds good. See you in a little while.” She lifted a hand as he headed toward the bathroom.

  Sophie walked around the outside of the house on an artfully planted path and paused in front of the sliders looking out at the beach.

  Evening had fallen, and a brilliant sunset cast a pool of glowing gold across the ocean. Sophie could see why Miller didn’t want his view disrupted. The new security wall of Plexiglas panels across the front of the yard must require a lot of cleaning, but Miller still had his view. “Good solution, Jake,” Sophie murmured.