“It could’ve been anyone.”
“Did you know the woman who was killed?”
“I saw her rollerblading but never spoke to her. Did you?”
“Yeah. She lived on my street— Uh oh. Look who’s coming.”
The guy in the power wheelchair was headed in our direction, pulling his spaniel beside him.
Roscoe and Sage were chasing each other with gleeful abandon. Oblivious to everything else, they ran straight at the wheelchair guy and his dog.
The wheelchair came to a dead stop. The spaniel stared stoically in front of him, not bothering to react to the other dogs.
“Your dogs have to be on a leash,” the guy bellowed with such venom I thought he might have a stroke.
For someone with breathing problems, there was surprising strength in his voice.
We immediately recalled Sage and Roscoe. They obeyed, but not fast enough. They guy had his phone out and was taking photos of our dogs before we could get their leashes snapped on.
“I’m calling the cops!” he screamed as he motored away, dragging his dog with him.
“What a grouch,” I said. “I’ve never seen him smile. And his poor dog …”
Roscoe’s owner stared after the wheelchair till he was out of earshot. “You know who that is?”
“No. He’s never spoken a word to me. Not till today, at least.”
“Remember that big accident on the Pali?”
“The one where all those high school kids were killed?”
“Yes.”
“Who could forget? It was horrible.”
“Well …” She leaned in closer and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “That guy in the wheelchair? He’s the one who caused the accident.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“I’m not kidding. That’s him.”
“I thought he got ten years. What’s he doing out of prison?”
“His lawyer fought to get him out because of his medical issues. He ended up serving just two years.”
I could summon no pity for him as I watched the wheelchair turn out of the park and disappear from sight.
Day Seven
Almost without me noticing, Freddy had taken over the dining room table for his home office. Giving up my space, an inch at a time, was just one of the concessions I’d made since he moved in. All in the name of domestic bliss.
He tapped his keyboard, then turned the laptop to show me the screen. “This is him. Lester Pinpherk.”
The photo was of a man in his fifties with brown hair and a thick mustache. “He looks a lot younger here,” I said, “but it could be the guy in the park.”
“This was taken eight years ago, at the trial.” He hit a few keys and showed me another photo. “This one was taken eighteen months later, at his parole hearing.”
In this photo, Pinpherk sat in a wheelchair and was hooked up to an oxygen tank. His hair and mustache had turned a yellowish white, his skin sallow.
“He sure aged a lot in that short time,” I said. “This is pretty much what he looks like now. A little heavier, maybe.”
“Prison wasn’t kind to him. After he caused the accident that killed all those kids, including Castle High School’s star quarterback, the locals hated him.” Freddy pulled up photos of the horrific crash scene. Some were aerial shots, probably taken from a helicopter. The gray pickup truck lay on its side, sheet-covered bodies littered the highway. “He drifted into the oncoming lane. The pickup, with six teenagers riding in the back, swerved to avoid him. It hit a cement truck and flipped over. Pinpherk fled the scene. There was a witness, and police tracked him down the next day.”
“I can’t believe they let him out after only two years, even if he does have health problems.”
“He always maintained he had nothing to do with the accident. Said he wasn’t even in the area when it happened. I guess the testimony of one witness was enough to convince the jury.”
“I remember it was such an emotional trial. The jury probably felt compelled to convict him so the case could be put to rest and people could go on with their lives.”
“I hope there was more to it than that.” Freddy pulled up another old news story and read it. “It says here he already had ongoing medical conditions before the accident. In prison, he spent a lot of time in the infirmary. His lawyer tried to get him released on medical parole, but the parole board denied it. Then some of the prisoners beat him severely. His paralysis is a result of that beating. Once he was permanently incapacitated, his parole was granted on humanitarian grounds.
“I remember Pinpherk was living in Wahiawā at the time of the accident. After he got out, he dropped out of sight. I figured he must’ve left the island.”
“Well, he’s still here,” I said. “Living somewhere close by. You wouldn’t believe what a jerk he is. He drags his dog along, never lets it stop even to pee. His electric wheelchair is absolutely silent. You can’t hear it coming. He seems to get a charge out of sneaking up behind people and running them off the walkway. Today he stopped and took pictures of Sage and another dog chasing a ball. He told us he was calling the cops because they were off leash.”
“You do know it’s illegal to let her off the leash in the park.”
“I know, but there were no other dogs around—until he showed up.” A half-baked thought came to me. “Can you find the name of the witness?”
“Why?” he asked, but he was already typing.
“I don’t know. Just a thought.”
“Okay. Here it is.” He paused. “Oh wow.”
“What?” I leaned over to see the screen.
“I don’t believe this.”
“What?”
Day Eight
I did my best to be patient while Henry doctored his coffee. It was a ritual, and I knew he wouldn’t talk until he’d performed it. At this hour of the afternoon we had the restaurant to ourselves.
“The woman who was murdered,” I said when he set his spoon down. “Patricia Vargas.”
I expected him to correct me on my use of the word ‘murdered.’ Murder is for the courts to decide. All he said was, “What about her?”
“Remember the guy who killed all those kids on Pali Highway?”
He tasted his coffee, set the mug down. “Lester Pinpherk.”
“That’s right. Well, you’re not gonna believe this.”
His eyes narrowed.
“The woman who testified against Pinpherk—it was Patricia Vargas.”
By his expression, Henry already knew. But of course he did. He’d have all his bases covered.
“I guess you knew that.”
A slight nod.
“Well, Mr. Pinpherk walks his dog every evening at ‘Ālewa Park.”
“And?”
“After he got out of prison, Pinpherk bought a house in the neighborhood where Vargas was living. Don’t tell me that’s just a coincidence. He got a dog, probably just so he could walk it in the same park where Vargas rollerbladed. Where she was killed.”
“On an island this small, coincidences happen all the time.”
“Okay. Let’s say it was pure chance they ended up being neighbors and frequenting the same park. How is it possible they didn’t recognize each other?”
“It’s been years since the trial. Pinpherk’s appearance has changed dramatically since he went to prison.”
“So you’ve talked to him.”
Henry held my gaze but didn’t speak.
“Did you ask him if he knew Vargas was living nearby?”
“He claims he had no idea. I asked him if he’d noticed the blonde woman rollerblading around the park in the evenings. He said he couldn’t help but notice her. At the speed she skated down the sidewalk she was a menace to anyone in her path. But did he know that woman was Vargas? He says he did n
ot.”
“That’s a little hard to believe. He had to have hated Vargas. When she testified against him, she literally ruined his life. You’re telling me she skated past him hundreds—maybe thousands—of times, and he never noticed who she was?”
“It’s possible. In court, Vargas was a sharp dresser. Wore lots of makeup. Her hair was always styled. When she skated, she pulled her hair back in a ponytail and dressed in tights. I saw the body. She looked nothing like she did when she testified at the trial.”
“Pinpherk had a strong motive for revenge. For most people, it would be a driving force.”
“I agree. To this day, he denies having anything to do with the accident. He swears Vargas either lied, or was mistaken. Because of her testimony, Pinpherk had one hell of a rough time in prison. He came out of it paralyzed, stuck in a wheelchair for life. That’s motive, if ever there was one. But there’s also the question of means. Vargas wasn’t a small woman. She was in good physical condition. Strong. I can’t see Pinpherk overpowering her, much less … well … with his medical issues I’m pretty sure he didn’t have the means to commit sexual assault.”
“He could’ve hired someone else to kill her.”
“There’s no evidence he had anything to do with her death.”
“Is Pinpherk even a suspect?”
“We haven’t closed that avenue of investigation. But as things stand, Pinpherk received due process for the crime he was convicted of. Whether or not the system treated him fairly, he served the required time. Now he says all he wants is anonymity so he can live out what’s left of his life in some semblance of peace.” Henry gave me a hard stare. “I don’t want to hear about you or your boyfriend going after him. You will not expose his whereabouts to the public. Do you understand me?”
“Of course.”
“It wasn’t easy finding Lester Pinpherk’s address,” Freddy said, leaning away from the laptop to stretch.
“You could’ve just followed him home from the park.”
“I know. But I wanted to search online to see what all would turn up. I found no record of him since he left prison. Turns out he changed his name. Now he’s Robert Brown.”
“Henry didn’t mention the name change.”
“I guess you can’t blame Pinpherk for wanting to hide. The public was really up in arms when they let him out after he’d served only two years.”
“So where does he live?”
“Over on Judd Street. Not far from here. After you left for work, I went to see his house. It wasn’t hard to find. It’s the only one in the neighborhood with a wheelchair ramp built onto the front. I watched the house for a few hours. He had the A/C going all day. Stayed inside with the blinds closed.”
“So he doesn’t like the heat.
“Doesn’t like light, either.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. What did you expect to find out by watching his house?”
“I don’t know. I’ve got a gut feeling. There’s a story here, I’ve just gotta figure out what it is.”
“Like Henry says, no matter how strong his motive, Pinpherk isn’t physically capable of taking down a woman the size and strength of Vargas. Much less raping her.”
Freddy rested his elbow on the table, his mouth against the back of his hand, and stared out the window.
Which explained why he preferred working at the table rather than the desk. The spectacular view of downtown and the harbor from the dining room window no doubt inspired thought.
“It can’t be a coincidence,” he finally said. “There’s gotta be a reason he bought a house in the same neighborhood as Vargas.”
“That’s what I told Henry. But he says there’s no evidence against Pinpherk.”
“The guy’s up to something.”
“Like what—besides enforcing the leash law?”
“Could be he just wanted to unnerve her by showing up in her neighborhood. But you saw them pass each other in the park and they didn’t seem to take any notice of each other.”
“Not that I could tell.”
“Looks like he doesn’t leave the house much except to walk his dog. So what does he do all day? I need to find a way to see what’s going on inside his house.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“I am definitely not kidding.”
“So much for the promise I made to Henry.”
Day Nine
Sage danced around my feet as I came through the door. I stooped to give her a proper greeting.
“You’ve gotta see this,” Freddy said, his eyes on the laptop screen. The dining table was set up as a workspace with two cell phones, their charger cords draped across the table and plugged into the wall socket. An almost empty water bottle stood next to him.
I pushed aside the remnants of Freddy’s lunch and sat in the nearest chair. “Hi to you too.”
“Hi.” He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. “How was your day?”
“This heat is unreal. I’m exhausted.”
“Look at this.” He turned the screen so I could see it.
A grainy black and white video showed the inside of what looked like a small living room. “What’s that?”
“The camera’s in his house.”
“What? When did you do that?”
“Last night when he was out walking his dog.”
“If you get caught—”
“No worries. It’s hidden in the strip of insulation under the AC. If he doesn’t suspect there’s a camera, he’ll never notice it. I’ll go back and get it tomorrow. I’ve got what I need.” He moved the curser and tapped the keyboard. “Just watch.”
In the video, Pinpherk came into the house in his power wheelchair, his dog on a leash. He released the dog, shut the door behind him and double checked that it was locked. While he maneuvered the chair into a corner, the dog slinked down a hallway.
Pinpherk pushed himself out of the wheelchair and stood. He stooped to plug the charging cord into a wall socket, then walked to the kitchen without so much as a limp.
“Would you look at that,” I said.
Pinpherk returned with a Bud Light, sat on the couch, and popped open the can.
Freddy forwarded the video. “Watch this.”
Now Pinpherk sat on a stationary bicycle, pumping the pedals hard and fast while he stared at the TV.
I was dumbfounded. “He’s getting a real good workout for someone with breathing problems.”
“I bet there’s no oxygen in that tank. There’s more.”
Freddy moved the video forward again. Pinpherk had moved to the couch and was now lifting some serious hand weights, his eyes still on the TV.
“The guy’s pretty strong,” Freddy said. “Those are twenty pound weights.”
“He’s been faking it all along. He had everyone fooled into believing he’s an invalid.”
“That’s gotta be how he caught Vargas off guard. Probably asked her for help with something. Who’s gonna refuse to stop and help someone in a wheelchair?”
Looked like I was finally a step ahead of Henry. “Henry needs to know. But how do we tell him, after I promised we’d leave Pinpherk alone?”
“Henry seems like a reasonable sort.”
“He is, usually.”
“I could call him and claim a confidential source, but I have a feeling he’d receive the information better from you.”
“I’m not exactly on his A-list at the moment.”
“Give me time to get my camera out of there before you call him.”
Day Ten
I set the phone to speaker and dialed.
“Detective Sergeant Nii.”
“Henry. This is Louise.”
“What is it?” he asked brusquely, as though I’d already wasted enough of his time.
“I’
m calling about a mutual acquaintance. Robert Brown.”
Silence.
“AKA Lester Pinpherk,” I added.
Henry let out a long, audible breath that was surely meant to convey his irritation with me. “What about him?”
“He’s faking his disabilities.”
A pause. “And you know this, how?”
Here goes. “Freddy has a confidential source.”
“Then I need to talk to Freddy.”
I glanced at Freddy, who was shaking his head no.
“Freddy isn’t here right now. Look, Henry. A woman is dead. Murdered, because she had the courage to testify about an accident she witnessed. An accident that killed a bunch of kids.”
“We already talked about this. There’s nothing to indicate that’s why she was killed.”
“You’re holding an innocent man in custody. A man whose only pleasure in life is sitting at the park, whose only crime was being born retarded.”
“There’s no evidence Pinpherk AKA Robert Brown had anything to do with Vargas’s death. End of story.”
“No, Henry. That’s not the end of the story. Lester Pinpherk can walk. I don’t think he’s really on oxygen, either. He’s been exercising.”
“Exercising isn’t a crime.”
“I’m telling you, he can walk as well as you and me. Some terrible wrongs have been committed. It’s in your power to right those wrongs. I know what kind of police officer you are—what kind of person you are. You’re going to do whatever it takes to see justice is served.”
“I need to know where Freddy got his information.”
“Instead of giving Freddy a hard time about his source, check it out for yourself.”
Day Twelve
The waiter set three amber-colored bottles of Singha on the table.
Henry waited for him to leave before making a toast. “‘Ōkole maluna.”
We clinked our bottles and took a sip. The pale, ice-cold beer was delicious.
“I may never know how you got your information.” Henry set his beer down, gave me a pointed look, then turned his eyes on Freddy. “I probably don’t want to know. But we were able to confirm that Lester Pinpherk, AKA Robert Brown, is able to walk normally. The search warrant for his home turned up some interesting things. Looks like he was pretty obsessed with Patricia Vargas. On his computer we found a big file on her, including lots of candid photos taken at the park. He was arrested today and will be arraigned on murder charges.”
Paradise, Passion, Murder Page 18