Once they were well beyond earshot of the room Sam released the grip and turned to Kimo, folding his arms across his chest. He drew in a deep breath through his nose, letting it raise his body up an inch or two onto his toes, before pushing it out through his mouth.
“So, Mr. Mata, what can I do for you today?”
The smile fell away from Kimo’s face as he glanced around once more to make sure they were alone. The information he was about to share he knew could be trusted with Sam. Anybody beyond that, and it could be calamitous to the point of explosive.
“How close are you with Randle’s security unit?” Kimo asked.
Sam’s eyes narrowed a bit as his head rotated to the side. “I don’t know that I would use the word close. I stayed on for the first two years of his term as a favor to Duke, but since I got out I’ve made a point to stay far away.”
Kimo pursed his lips out a bit, chewing on the information. There were certainly other ways to confirm the news Mary-Ann Harris had dropped on him, though they would all be significantly more difficult. And expensive.
“Why? What’s going on? This about the election?” Sam asked.
The right side of Kimo’s face twisted up a bit as he wagged his hand at Sam in a gesture that said he was sort of right. “I’m trying to confirm something that was given to me off the record yesterday.”
“Big?”
“If it didn’t get Randle impeached outright, it would all but guarantee he doesn’t win a second term.”
The words were gone before Kimo even realized it, his mouth relaying what his mind had concluded almost a day before. His eyes bulged a bit in shock, his gaze glancing to either side once more.
“Damn,” Sam said, pushing out a whistle between his teeth. “And you’re going after his job?”
Kimo shook his head and said, “I never deliberately go after anybody’s job. I just report what I find and let people draw their own conclusions.”
The line sounded a bit contrived even to Kimo’s own ears, but he stood with the strap of his bag gripped in his hands, meeting Sam’s gaze as the big man sized him up.
After a moment he nodded, content that Kimo was speaking the truth.
“What’s the news?”
Kimo started to ask that it go no further, but stopped himself. He knew the answer before he voiced the question. There was no need to insult his friend.
“Three nights ago a body was found on the mosaic on the capitol floor.”
Confusion passed over Sam’s face a moment. “That’s impossible. Something like that would have made the rounds by now.”
“Exactly,” Kimo said, nodding for emphasis. “If this is true, we’re talking cover-up of the highest order.”
Sam raised a thumb to his mouth and gnawed on the nail a moment, processing the information. “The kind of thing that would either get him impeached, or at the least voted out.”
“Yup,” Kimo said, nodding once more.
Sam glanced over at the workers all still going about their tasks, the occasional whine of a forklift splitting the air. Content that they were still on task he shifted his attention back to Kimo and nodded.
“Let me make a few calls. I’ll tell you flat out I think it’s bullshit, but you’ve intrigued me enough that I’d like to know too.”
Kimo let a large breath of air pass from his body, relief flooding through him. Right now he had two clear lines of inquiry he needed to follow up on and having Sam take over one of them made his life infinitely easier.
“Thank you, Sam,” Kimo said. “Seriously, I appreciate it.”
“Tell me,” Sam said, ignoring the comment, “where’d you hear this?”
Reflexively Kimo took a half step closer and dropped his voice a decibel. “That’s the damnedest part about it. Mary-Ann Harris called me up and told me about it.”
Sam’s arms dropped by his sides at the mention of Harris, his palms slapping against his thighs. “Well, damn. And you believe her?”
“I know, I know,” Kimo said, holding up his hands to show he was in agreement. “Since you’ve said you’ll ask a few questions on this side, my next job is figuring out what the hell she’s up to.”
“Yeah, cause there’s no ulterior motives on her part there at all,” Sam said, letting sarcasm drip from his words.
“That may be,” Kimo said, “but if I don’t at least poke around a little on this...”
Sam swiped a hand across his chin, nodding in rapid sequence. “Yeah, that’s too big not to take a look.” He paused a moment, continuing to work on his chin before stating, “Give me a day or two, huh? I get off here at five and I’ll try to get a hold of some of the guys, maybe try to meet them for a beer tomorrow.”
“Thank you so much, again,” Kimo said. “I’ll be happy to double the usual information fee for this.”
“Ha!” Kimo said, slapping at his thighs again, the jovial nature of before returning to his features. “If I end up finding out this is legit, you’re going to owe me two days of work here on the farm.”
A matching smile split Kimo’s face as he looked over at the workers shuffling pineapples into packages. “I don’t know, that doesn’t look so bad. I can handle it.”
“Oh, no,” Sam said, stepping backwards away from Kimo, headed deeper inside the warehouse, “not here. Out in the fields.”
Chapter Fourteen
Danilo Cruz could see his reflection in the girl’s eyes as she stared back at him, the pupils dilated to the size of saucers, the entire things almost black in color. What substance she had ingested to put her in such a state he could only guess at, but the effects on her were undeniable.
“My name’s Candy,” she said, sticking a straw from the drink in her hand into the corner of her mouth. She took a quick sip and pulled it away, bright red lipstick lingering on the cheap white plastic, looking up at Danilo expectantly.
He wasn’t quite sure what response he was supposed to give, whether it be to tell her it sounded like a nice name or congratulate her for remembering at all. “Hector,” he said, offering a shy smile and glancing back over his shoulder.
The lingering clouds of a day-long storm system had brought an early evening to Oahu, blotting out any ambient glow from the sky above. The overhead lights lining the streets of Chinatown were a random patchwork of designs, most of them long since past the point of usefulness. From where he stood Danilo could see only three working on the entire block, each one throwing a cone of harsh orange straight down at the sidewalk.
Beyond their reach, it was tough to see much of anything.
Danilo had canvassed the area enough times in the past to know that even by full daylight there wasn’t a lot to see. The entirety of the district was little more than five blocks square, the area dotted with open-air food stands and small eateries. Each day it attracted scads of tourists, people new to the island and expecting to find the types of Chinatowns they’d heard about in New York or San Francisco.
They were more likely to find girls like Candy, products like whatever she had ingested a few minutes earlier.
“Is this your first time, Hector?” Candy asked, twisting herself back and forth at the waist, keeping her head tilted to the side with the straw just an inch from her mouth. The outside of the bottle said it was nothing more than Diet Coke, though the smell told Danilo there was more than a little rum present as well.
“That obvious?” Danilo said, glancing down at the ground and back up at Candy. She was several inches shorter than he was, her dark hair teased out to at least three times its normal size. She wore a white and pink horizontal striped tank top above a denim skirt that was probably better described as a belt. Heavy lipstick and eye shadow covered most of her face, giving her the appearance of a young girl playing dress-up.
If any police ever stayed in Chinatown once the tourists went home for the day, there would be little doubt as to what her trade was.
“You don’t have to be nervous, sweetie,” Candy purred. “I’ll take good
care of you. What’s your pleasure?”
Danilo kicked at the ground a moment with the toe of his shoe before raising his eyes back up to her. He bit his lip once for effect before giving a bashful grin. “This is going to sound kind of weird...”
A knowing smile grew across Candy’s face. “Nothing I haven’t seen before, honey. I can tell you that.”
Several sharp retorts sprang to Danilo’s mind, but he shoved them aside, continuing to play the role of shy rube. “I was wondering if you knew where I could find...” he began, letting his voice trail off.
“Let me guess,” Candy jumped in, “smack? Blow? Ice?”
A momentary swell of repulsion passed through Danilo at the notion she would immediately assume he was looking for drugs, but once more he let it pass. “Hapai.”
The word hung between them for a long moment as Candy lowered the soda to her side. Her jaw fell open a half inch as she stared at Danilo, her eyes void of emotion. “Pregnant. You want a girl that’s pregnant.”
He knew when he’d pulled up that this would be a long shot at best. The previous victim he’d been tipped off on weeks in advance and had the opportunity to scout. He knew where she would be, the patterns she traveled, even the best time to nab her.
Now he was flying blind. While there were certainly more working girls on the streets of Waikiki, most of them had pimps or roommates or somebody that might eventually start asking questions.
There was no such concern with the women walking the streets of Chinatown. If any of them had somewhere else to call home or somebody to ask for help, they would have already done so. For somebody in his line of work, the place was practically one-stop shopping.
“Yeah, I guess it is pretty weird, huh?” Danilo said, taking a step back towards the rented Mazda behind him on the street.
“No, weird is wanting to lick my toes,” Candy corrected. “What you just said is straight messed up.”
Despite her words, Danilo could see the faintest flicker of curiosity on the girl’s face. Clearly she didn’t fit the mold he was looking for, but there was a chance she might know somebody close by that did.
Still, he had to wait and let her get there on her own. She had to believe she was the one to initiate the idea.
“You’re right,” Danilo said, taking another step backwards. He shoved his hands into the front of his cargo shorts and moved away. Deep in his right pocket he pressed the unlock button on his key ring, the headlights of the car flashing twice in front of him. “Sorry to have bothered you. Have a good evening.”
Turning on the ball of his foot, Danilo made it three steps towards the car, a little over half the distance between them, before being called to a stop.
“Well, now wait a minute,” Candy called, her wedge heels smacking against the concrete as she moved to catch up with him. “Maybe we can work something out.”
The left corner of Danilo’s mouth twitched upward a tiny bit before receding into place as he turned back towards her. He kept moving towards the car as he did so, keeping the same distance between them. “Okay, ha ha. I get it, I’m a weirdo. You don’t have to be mean.”
“No no no,” Candy said, waving a hand full of cheap press-on nails at him. She picked her pace up a bit as she did so, the heels sounding out over the desolate intersection. “I never said that. You just surprised me a little at first, that’s all.”
In that moment Danilo knew he had hit pay dirt. He stopped his retreat towards the car, coming to rest just a few feet from the rear bumper. He kept his hands in his shorts and stared back at her, doing his best to relay hopeful curiosity her way. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Candy said, slowing her pace and pulling up just short of him. The same air of confidence she’d displayed when he first approached returned, a woman in her element, back in control. “Obviously I don’t match what you’re looking for, but I might know somebody that does.”
“Yeah?” Danilo asked again, taking a half step towards her, wanting, needing her to feel an underlying enthusiasm from him.
“Yeah,” Candy said. “For a small fee, of course.”
“Of course,” Danilo agreed, letting the corners of his mouth curl upward. The two stood gazing back at each other for a long moment before Danilo again pressed the unlock button in his pocket, the headlights cutting through the darkness. “Why don’t you climb in and we’ll see what we can work out?”
Chapter Fifteen
Three hours after sliding beneath the sheets of the queen sized bed Walter Tseng shared with his wife, the work-issued cell phone on the nightstand began to buzz. In a state of sleep that was somewhere in the vicinity of a total blackout, he never once heard it. Not until Sharon slapped the back of her hand across his chest did he even realize it was in the same room.
“Tell the damn governor to stop calling in the middle of the night,” she pushed out in a throaty groan, rolling her body away from his, pulling over most of the covers from the bed with her.
The right half of his body exposed to the cool morning air, Tseng took the phone up and exited the room, making the trip from memory, his eyes still crusted together. He let the implement continue to vibrate in his palm until he reached the kitchen, already picturing the governor in his bathrobe on the other end of the line, forcing himself not to display any open animosity.
“Tseng,” he said, pushing a long sigh out through his nose and running a hand over his face.
“Chief, it’s Sturgis,” a gruff voice replied. “Sorry to wake you like this.”
Tseng’s hand stopped halfway across his face and fell back to his side, his eyes opening wide. He’d been so certain that the call was coming from the capitol, the presence of a different voice surprised him.
“Yeah?” Tseng said, the question coming out a bit harsher than intended.
“Normally I wouldn’t bother you at this hour,” Sturgis said, “but this is one we need your say-so on,”
There existed a list in the Honolulu Police Department of situations that needed his stamp of approval before being handled. They ranged from hostage situations to closing the highway for visiting dignitaries, a gamut of actions that needed full vetting so they passed muster in the court of public approval should it ever come to that.
From where Tseng stood, none of the options on the list were good.
“Oh, God,” he muttered. “What happened?”
“We’ve got two bodies down at Ala Moana,” Sturgis said. Tseng could hear the ocean breeze coming through the mouthpiece of the phone as Sturgis talked. The sound clipped the ends off most of the words he said, though the sum total was still unmistakable.
“Shit,” Tseng muttered. “How bad?”
“I just got here,” Sturgis said. “The scene doesn’t look terrible, but they’re both cut up pretty bad. Need your approval to close the beach and set up the scene.”
Closing a public beach was one of the seemingly more innocuous things on the list, but one that rarely ever stood alone. There was always some reason for it, whether it be an infestation of jellyfish or a pair of bodies left sprawled in the sand.
“Christ,” Tseng muttered. “How big a mess?”
“That’s the thing,” Sturgis said. “There isn’t one. Both girls have huge gouges across their throats and stomachs, but there isn’t a spot of blood here anywhere. Seems like a strict dump job, but we still need to take a look.”
The last words Sturgis said failed to register with Tseng. His mind seized on the descriptions of the victim’s wounds, on the thick slashes crossing their neck and abdomens. His mouth went dry as he thought back to a few nights before, to the girl lying in a twisted heap on the capitol floor.
“I’ll call you back,” Tseng said.
There was a momentary pause on the other end before Sturgis said, “Come again? Li’s already setting up a perimeter.”
“Tell him to stop right now,” Tseng said. “I’ll call you back.”
He could hear Sturgis protesting on the opposite end of the line
as he disconnected the call, his voice squawking out into the silent kitchen. Once the screen was cleared, Tseng scrolled into his phone book and thumbed down to the number for Tim Hall before thinking better of it and moving directly on to Governor Randle.
Given the hour there was no point in waking the Chief of Staff when he couldn’t offer the answers Tseng needed anyway.
A long, slow breath slid out between Tseng’s lips as he dialed the governor. He closed his eyes and pressed the phone to his face, a heavy dread passing through his body. Already he could feel himself growing nauseated, his shirt back wet with sweat.
The phone rang seven times, enough that Tseng was certain it would be sent to voicemail, before the voice of the governor came on. Equal parts exhaustion and aggravation, he answered with a simple, “What?”
“Good morning, sir,” Tseng said, steeling himself for the berating he knew he was about to receive. “I’m sorry to be calling so early-“
“So why the hell are you?” Randle interrupted.
Tseng drew in a quick breath, forcing himself not to snap back. He wasn’t happy to have been woken up in the middle of the night either, starting a new day that proved to be even worse than the one before it.
“We’ve found two more bodies,” Tseng said. He shoved the words out before the governor could say anything else, hoping they would stem any further hostility.
“Shit,” Randle muttered, drawing the letter i out several seconds in length. “Same place as before?”
“No,” Tseng said, “these two were dumped on Ala Moana Beach, but the wounds are exact matches for the girl found the other night.”
“Ala Moana?” Randle snapped. “You called and woke me up in the middle of the night for Ala Moana? Do you know how many people die in this state every year? Do you think somebody calls and tells me about it every time?”
“I do,” Tseng said, feeling rage rise within him again. “But how many of those have the same exact MO of a body found at the capital three days ago? A murder that was kept silent, so they did it again on a public beach?”
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