A Killing in Kula (Maui Mayhem Cozy Mystery Book 2)

by Aysia Amery

  “Hey, that’s good thinking. Might just work.” He scratched his stubble. “That is, if she’s innocent.”

  “Yeah. Pray hard.”

  I jutted out my arm in a grasp on his. “Oh, one more thing...we should give them some time alone to talk it over. Hopefully the son can convince the mother that it’s the right choice. She might not retract her stance on her own, thinking she’s still trying to protect him from the harsher murder sentence.”

  “Yeah, the embezzlement charge will only be theft in the second degree since he stole less than $20,000. The fine is $10,000 or 5 years of jail time, or both. Since he stole from his own family, they could plead with the judge for a lesser criminal punishment. He could get off just paying it back along with court fees and such.”

  “Yeah, his mother isn’t going to press charges,” I said.

  “You ready?” Pako asked.

  “Yup. Cross your fingers that this works.”

  When we got back to the dining room, Pako gave the Mins the lowdown. We were going to give them ten minutes to talk things over.

  While they had their little powwow, Pako and I went outside to grab some fresh air.

  “This has got to be one of the more interesting cases we’ve been on, huh?” I said.

  “Yeah, I don’t know if I’m coming or going with these guys.”

  “It’s like one of those cozy mysteries I read where the plot keeps twisting and turning.” It really was. At first it seemed like Helen was a done deal, and then lo and behold, it could be Lance or Elaine or even both. Only Nolan and Ken were out of the picture at this point.

  Or were they? I sure hope we don’t get zapped with another yowza. I couldn’t speak for Pako, but my brain was getting fried.

  Pako gazed at his watch. “Time’s up.”

  Before we could plant our butts on the dining room chairs, Elaine said, “Something fishy is going on.” I don’t think she meant that as a pun. Her mood was not playful.

  “Both of us thought the other did it. I was so relieved to find out that Lance didn’t do it. I didn’t kill Tony either.”

  She’d better have a more thorough explanation to back that up because just saying so wasn’t going to be enough.

  “After you told us about the banana bread and the embezzling, when Lance protested to letting you check his computer, which could prove his innocence, I figured he must be guilty. Also, in my shock of hearing all the evidence against him, I recalled getting up in the middle of the night the day before Tony’s death and seeing the kitchen light on. I could hear a knife on the cutting board. I thought Lance was making himself a late night snack, so I went back to bed.”

  “I will admit, I did cut up the pufferfish and was gonna poison the stew, which I knew the previous night’s leftovers was gonna be for Dad’s lunch. It normally is. But I chickened out; I couldn’t do it. I threw the fish out,” Lance confessed.

  Oh lordy, this was going to be another twist. If Lance and Elaine didn’t do it, it would have to be either Nolan or Ken. Or maybe they had devised this story after talking it over? Could this brilliant (I’m saying that facetiously, by the way) idea have backfired on us?

  “So you’re saying that the fish was all cut up into small pieces when you dumped it?” I knew where Pako was going with this. If Lance’s story was true, then the person who murdered Tony could’ve easily just taken some bits out and thrown them into the stew. They didn’t have to prepare any of it. Anybody there that day would’ve had access to those fish guts.

  “Yeah. I parboiled the fish first, then chopped up the meat and liver.”

  “Where’d you throw the fish’s remains?”

  “I stuffed them into an empty mayonnaise jar and threw it into the outside trash by the kitchen door.”

  “Was it sitting on top of the trash? Could anybody have spotted it there?”

  “I suppose. The trash was full that day, so it was within easy grasp.”

  “Weren’t you concerned that somebody might’ve seen the pufferfish in the trash?” Pako was like a machine gun, firing out his questions.

  “I didn’t think it was a big deal since I wasn’t going through with my plan.” And this guy spat out the answers as quick as Pako served them. This was an intriguing interrogation.

  “What if your father saw it? Wouldn’t he have wondered why his stripebelly pufferfish was dead and all chopped up?”

  “I doubt he would’ve seen it unless he needed to throw something in that trash. It wasn’t likely. He would’ve just used the kitchen trash.”

  “How about the head? Was it intact enough to be recognizable?” Pako was so on top of things.

  “Anybody who knows what a pufferfish looks like would’ve been able to tell.”

  “So who picks up the outside trash?”

  “Ken does.”

  And the drumroll keeps rolling. But why not? If Ken wanted revenge and was just waiting for the right moment, that would’ve been it.

  “What time does he normally pick it up?” Pako kept on coming. He hadn’t even blown out a nose hair when Ken was named.

  “I dunno. I think in the morning. It’s when he goes around collecting the other trash around the farm. I’ve never actually seen him pick it up.”

  “Why’d you try to pin it on Ms. Ryker?” Pako asked.

  “When you folks came around asking questions, I had thought that maybe I hadn’t cleaned the cutting board well enough and it poisoned the sandwich my mom made for my dad.”

  I glanced at Elaine.

  “I was dead tired by the time I finished cleaning up that I couldn’t be sure I hadn’t slipped up. I panicked when I thought me or my mom would be suspect.”

  “But you must’ve known we’d find out sooner or later. Ms. Ryker’s story would’ve checked out in the end.”

  “I was hoping by that time I’d figure something out. I didn’t intentionally kill Dad. I was pretty sure you wouldn’t have been able to prove I did. I just didn’t anticipate my mom doing what she did.”

  “So, who killed my husband if my son and I didn’t?”

  “Yeah, Helen could still be guilty. She was here all day. And how about Ken? Uncle Nolan had left about the same time we did, and I know he wouldn’t do it.”

  Uncle Nolan could’ve still found the jar and poisoned the stew before Ken picked up the trash, so he wasn’t exactly exempt yet. But my gut feeling was, he was innocent.

  It was now between Ken and Helen. There’s no doubt that Ken would’ve seen the mayo jar when he took the trash contents to the main trash bin. And as far as Helen goes, she too could’ve gotten ahold of the jar.

  Now how do we get to the bottom of this? How do we make either of those two confess? Or what clues can we find to nab them with?

  After hearing this cockamamie story, don’t laugh, but I believe Lance and Elaine.

  Hmm, I wonder if Pako does too.

  :: Chapter 18 ::

  Pako wasn’t taking Lance in yet for the embezzlement charge. He knew Lance wasn’t going anywhere just yet. Leaving his mom wasn’t an option, especially if she wasn’t out of the imu (underground oven) pit yet. For all they knew, they were still suspects in the murder of Tony Min. But I had a feeling Pako believed the Mins’ story too.

  We were on our way to have another chat with Ken. Hopefully this was the last time to either find out if he was guilty or innocent. If we were led on another wild mongoose chase, I was gonna stick needles under all their fingernails and torture the truth out of ‘em.

  We found him attending to a potted plant by the kiosk.

  “Ken, we have a few more questions,” I called out as we approached him.

  He dusted off his hands and turned to face us.

  Pako spoke. “The morning of Tony Min’s death, did you see a mayonnaise jar containing fish remains in the outdoor trash by the Mins’ kitchen door?”

  Ken looked bewildered. “I don’t remember what’s in the trash cans when I collect ‘em.”

  Well, that won’t b
e any help.

  “Please think again. We really need you to remember.”

  Ken scratched his head. “Yeah, I don’t think so. I don’t recall any mayo jar with fish in it. Why?”

  “Are you sure?” Pako asked, ignoring Ken’s question.

  Ken shrugged.

  “What time did you collect the trash?”

  “Maybe around 10:00 or thereabouts. I don’t constantly look at my watch.”

  That would’ve given the murderer enough time to grab the jar.

  “Do you ever go into the Mins’ home?” Pako asked.

  “Nah, they don’t invite me, so I don’t go in. All my duties are on the farm anyway. Why would I need to go in their house?”

  “To use the bathroom?” I said.

  “There’s a half-bath attached to the back of the house where we can go. Some go off the property to eat lunch at the park or whatever, so they use the public restrooms. I do that sometimes, but mostly I stay on the farm.”

  “Okay.” Seems Pako was done with him.

  I imagine Mr. Detective knew there wasn’t much more we could get out of Ken. It was still possible that he snuck into the house once everyone but Helen left. Just because no one invited him didn’t mean he didn’t take that one opportunity to go in while everyone was gone to poison the stew.

  But Helen raised some major red flags too because if she was in love with Tony, she sure didn’t shed a single tear for the guy or get emotionally choked up during our chats.

  “Pako, we have to set a trap for the perp. It’ll be hard to make them confess without any proof. Just because the mayo jar wasn’t in the trash by the time Ken picked it up, it doesn’t prove Helen took it even if she did. Also, Ken doesn’t even remember if it was there or not, so there’s that.

  “As for Ken, he could be lying. He could’ve very well have seen the jar in the trash and did the dastardly deed, sneaking into the house through the kitchen door when everybody but Helen left.”

  “What about the other three?” Pako asked.

  “If this doesn’t work on Helen and Ken, then we’ll try it on the Mins.”

  “So what you got in mind?” he asked, his eyes wide and beaming like a boy curious to know what lay hidden in the huge present under the Christmas tree.

  “We create an anonymous email address. That username will send an email to each of them saying they know and saw what she/he did and that they have proof of their crime. We’re going to be vague, because the guilty party will be paranoid, while the innocent one won’t care and think it’s just a prank. Whoever ignores it and doesn’t answer, chances are they’re innocent. Whoever is guilty will want to know what the anonymous person has on them.” My eyes looked steadfastly into his. “What do you think?”

  “Hmm, that might work.”

  “I think so. Let’s give it a whirl anyway. What do we have to lose? We’ve got nothing on either of them right now except speculation and gut instinct.”

  “Who’s your gut instinct on?” he asked.

  “Who do you think?”

  “Helen?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because my bet’s on her too. For a wahine in love with a guy who just when make (pronounced: mah keh; meaning: die), she showed as much emotion as a cockroach.”

  “You noticed that too, huh?” Of course he did. Pako’s an astute cop. Not much gets by him.

  “Eh, I’m not a detective for nothin’ you know.”

  I smiled. “And a damn good one too,” I said as I touched my good friend’s arm.

  For some reason, I’ve never gotten flashes of Pako’s past lives. It was very weird. I get them for most people, but with a few I got zilch. He was one of them. Maybe that was a good thing because Pako might’ve been Godzilla in a past life; who knows? Yup, I’d rather not know.

  “I remember Ryker’s email address from when we went into her computer, but we need to get Abano’s.”

  “I’m sure Vandie can find it. But if not, we can snail mail a letter to him and get him to contact our anonymous email address with his answer,” I said.

  “Okay, Watson, let’s get ‘em.”

  My mouth crooked to the right and I raised an eyebrow. That idea should’ve gained me the Sherlock title, surely.

  The rascal just grinned.

  Grr.

  * * *

  We went back to my house to wait for Vandie to get us Ken’s email address and have us some lunch. By the time Pako and I finished our fresh tuna fish sandwiches, Vandie texted me the info we needed.

  Our scheme was underway with messages sent to both of our prime suspects. Now we sat tight and waited for a reply.

  I sure hope my intuition hit the bull’s eye and this worked.

  Well, it didn’t take long to rile their nene goose feathers because before I had time to get Pako and me refills on our drinks, my laptop chimed—the anonymous username got an email.

  ‘Who are you? What proof are you talking about?’

  That was Helen. A few minutes later, we got one from Ken via his cell phone app.

  ‘What the F@%#? Buzz off a#%hole!’

  Oh my, those expletives weren’t easy on the eyeballs.

  Although they both responded, Ken didn’t seem curious to know what evidence the anonymous person had on him.

  But Helen was.

  ‘I saw you take the mayo jar out from the trash. I took a photo. You killed him.’

  Okay, let’s see how she responded to that.

  Hmm. Half-hour passed and no email from her. Could I have been wrong about this?

  Another hour passed.

  “You think Lance was lying about putting the fish guts in the trash? Or could the guilty one be Ken and he’s calling our bluff?” Doubts started to creep up on me.

  “Don’t sweat it, Ging. Your plan was a good one. She may be in shock and wondering how to respond.” Pako was always so cool-headed and patient about stuff like this. Guess that came with his experience.

  Me? I’m Ms. Impatience. I probably forced my way out of my mother’s womb as she labored.

  “Hey, Pako, let’s go over to Helen’s house and get her riled up. We can ask her if she knows anything about Lance throwing out the pufferfish remains in the mayo jar and see how she reacts. Also, if she doesn’t bring up the blackmailing emails, then she has to be hiding something. If she were innocent, wouldn’t she want us to know that somebody was harassing her?”

  “Yeah, let’s go. That might speed things up,” Pako agreed. “Besides, we can pick up some malasadas on the way.”

  I gave him an incredulous stare. “We would not have time for you to be eating malasadas, Pako. You want to show up on her doorstep smeared with sugar all over your face? I’ve seen the way you eat that stuff, and you’re a mess afterward.”

  “I’ll get a napkin.”

  “We are NOT going for malasadas. You can get some on the way back.” Sometimes I felt like his mother.

  “Sheesh. I was just joking. Chill out, lady. You get so uptight sometimes.” He laughed.

  “Yeah, well, you know how to bring it out in me,” I replied with a smirk.

  He just grinned like the mischievous devil he was.

  * * *

  I searched Helen’s face for any signs of fluster as she let us in. Bloodshot eyes made me think she’d been either crying or lacked sleep.

  “Are you all right, Helen?” I asked. Although I knew she probably was not.

  “Just tired I guess.” It was a plausible excuse.

  Once we were settled in her living room, she asked, “Have you had any developments since our talk?” She crossed her legs as she sat down on the loveseat perpendicular to us.

  “We have actually. We had a talk with Lance Min and he mentioned to us that the stripebelly pufferfish had died after you gave it back to him. He chopped it up and stuffed it into a mayonnaise jar,” Pako told her.

  “Really?” she said, as though hearing it for the first time. “Why would he do that?”


  “To dispose of it,” is all Pako said.

  “No, I mean, why did he chop it up?”

  “To fit it into the jar.” Sometimes we had to twist the truth a little bit to get the results we wanted. In this case it was the truth, but with some important info left out, like originally cutting the fish up to kill his dad.

  “Did you know about the dead fish?”

  “No, I didn’t.” She wrung her hands. Nervous twitch?

  “Did you throw anything into the outside trash can by the kitchen door that day?” Pako asked.

  “The day Lance chopped up the pufferfish?”

  “The day Tony Min died.” Pako’s voice was as steady as a kayak on a calm sea.

  “Umm. No. Why?”

  “So you didn’t see the mayo jar with the pufferfish in the trash?”

  “No.” She fidgeted in her seat and switched legs to cross.

  “Were you anywhere around that area where the trash was located?”

  “I don’t know, I–I–I can’t remember.” Everybody’s using that lame excuse.

  “You can’t remember if you were outside by the trash?”

  “I–I–I might’ve been. Maybe just for a little while.” She’s flustered.

  “What were you doing out there if you weren’t throwing out any trash?” Pako could drill ‘em and drill ‘em until he struck oil.

  “Oh, I remember now. That’s where I gave Ken the banana bread. He had just come to pick up the trash and I saw him through the kitchen window.”

  How could she forget that, then all of a sudden remember? That wasn’t something so easy to forget.

  “What time was that about?”

  “I don’t know the exact time. Maybe late morning? I had gone to the kitchen to get another cup of coffee.”

  Something doesn’t add up. Elaine said she saw Helen go into the kitchen as she was leaving for her hair appointment. If I recall correctly, she said she left at around 11:15. That means Helen had to have come back into the kitchen carrying the gift bag twice. The first time to drop off the banana bread; the second time—for what? To poison the stew?