Motive

by Dustin Stevens

  “Oh, God no,” Zall said, uncrossing his legs and waving a hand across himself in an exaggerated gesture. He brought both feet to the floor and shook them twice, straightening the crease of his slacks. “Bumbling fools though they may be, the six of them can protect one empty house. No, from now on, I would like you at the main residence with me.”

  “With you?” Danilo asked, the bit of resentment receding. While having been there on a few occasions before, never had he been stationed full time at the Zall home. This was a job more befitting a man of his skills, a recognition of the things he had done in the previous months.

  “Yes,” Zall replied. “The next couple weeks are of the utmost importance. I would like to have you on standby at all times. You may stay in the guest house.”

  Feeling a bit of pride swell within him, Danilo had to admit the news didn’t come as a complete surprise. Based on their previous conversations he had assumed something like this could occur, especially given that they were entering the second, more delicate portion of the proceedings.

  “Of course,” Danilo said, hiding every thought and emotion deep inside, his face neutral. “When would you like me to begin?”

  “Tomorrow,” Zall said. “Dr. Saiki will be taking up residence with us in the main home at that time, too. We would be well served to bring everybody in together to make sure things go as they should. Wouldn’t you both agree?”

  The thought of sleeping anywhere near Saiki made Danilo’s stomach turn, but he pushed it aside, murmuring an affirmative to his employer’s question. The task was far more important than any personal differences that might exist, especially given that Danilo would be stowed away in the guest quarters.

  Satisfied that the purpose of their gathering was completed, Zall stood. As he had with his slacks, he shook out the sleeves of his suit and brushed them clean, ensuring no bits of lint from the chair were left behind. “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have a political massacre to go bear witness to.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The white sands of Waikiki Beach were stretched out three stories below, extended in both directions as far as the floor-to-ceiling windows in the room would allow. Just minutes after high tide, the rolling waves of the Pacific washed in one after another, inching ever higher. Formed from pristine three foot curls, the waters deposited themselves before receding backward, wiping away a day’s worth of footprints and activity, clearing the slate for everything to begin anew in the morning.

  Kalani stood with her arms folded across her torso, watching them come in, her mind surprisingly clear. For the first time in days she wasn’t thinking about mutilated bodies or grotesque crime scenes, content to see the water come and go.

  It had been months since she’d even been in the ocean, before the accident occurred. On their days off she and Ben used to hit Sandy Beach on the south end of the island, he on a body board, she on a six foot cutter. When they were done they would swing by for a plate lunch at one of the food trucks in Waimanalo, two friends comfortable with each other’s company, needing the occasional day to remind themselves that they lived in Hawaii, that there something beyond the grisly streets they dealt with at work.

  “Look at those curls,” Rip said, stepping up beside her, matching her pose. “Open face, five foot peak, two hundred yard crest.”

  Kalani shifted her focus from the water below to their reflection in the glass, looking at Rip in his slacks and button down, his hair almost combed into place. At first glance his appearance might give the impression of a white collar worker at the end of a long day, but the first words out of his mouth confirmed the truth of it.

  The waves held more hope, more serenity, more appeal, than any form of business ever could. There was a longing there that was almost overt, evident in just two simple sentences.

  “I thought you only rode the big stuff these days?” Kalani asked, the side of her mouth pulled up a bit.

  “Naw,” Rip said, drawing the word out so it sounded almost like a grunt. “I ride the big stuff because it is winter and the North Shore is a pretty easy drive. I appreciate any good ride though, and those breaks right there are some of the best. They’re just always too damn crowded to mess with.”

  Before Kalani could nod her agreement, the sound of voices turned her around. A moment later Rip joined her, both remaining with their arms folded across their chest, waiting in the empty anteroom alongside the main ballroom for the people they were meeting with to arrive.

  They arrived in a cluster, a mass of humanity traveling in a pack, all wearing similar attire, all adorned with matching grim stares.

  The first one through the door was Chief Tseng, dressed in upscale aloha fare, his hair parted severely to the side. He looked like he still had not gotten a wink of sleep all week, the bags under his eyes drooping halfway down his cheeks. He grimaced at Kalani and Rip as he entered and shook his head, saying nothing.

  Not the first impression Kalani was hoping for.

  Behind him entered a trio of men, only one of which Kalani recognized. At the head of their small procession was Governor Dwight Randle, his face pinched in a mixture of anger and anxiousness. He glared at Kalani and Rip as he entered, clearly on the verge of exploding. He walked halfway into the room with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, stopping just short of the midway point, making it clear he intended to go no further.

  The two men behind him both followed with expressions of trepidation, their hands behind their backs, attention aimed at the floor. One was tall and wispy, his thinning red hair combed back. The other was shorter and more rotund, his fleshy features unmistakably Chinese.

  Despite not getting a clear look at either face, Kalani tried to search through her memory for any recollection of either one, coming up empty. Based on their appearance and demeanor she could speculate with a fairly strong degree of accuracy, but opted against it, waiting for them to be introduced instead.

  Without looking at Rip, Kalani moved forward into the center of the room, pulling up alongside Tseng, several feet separating them from Randle. A moment later Rip appeared beside her, the two sides standing in a pair of loose semi-circles, staring warily at one another.

  “Governor, this is Kalani Lewis and Jon Ripowski,” Chief Tseng said, assuming the role of facilitator, his tone and expression both saying he would rather do anything but. “Kalani, Jon, this is Governor Dwight Randle, his Chief of Staff Tim Hall, and his Senior Policy Advisor Allen Wong.”

  Kalani lowered her head to murmur a greeting, but was cut off by the governor launching forward.

  “Where the hell are you on finding who did this?” Randle spat, raising a finger as he spoke, his ill-fitting sports jacket twisting over his stomach.

  There was no response at all from Rip as Kalani felt her jaw drop a fraction of an inch. The wind pulled from her chest, thrown off guard by the brusque nature of the question, as she glanced sideways at Chief Tseng. For his part, he seemed unfazed by the unprovoked menace of the inquiry.

  “We’re following up on every lead, sir,” Tseng said, a bit of resignation in his voice.

  “Which means you don’t have shit is what you’re telling me,” Randle said, swinging his gaze over to Tseng, his finger still raised in the air. “Right?”

  “No sir, that’s not what I said,” Tseng replied.

  “Oh, I heard what you said,” Randle shot back, cutting him off, adding a flippant wave of his hand to let Tseng know he was being dismissed. “I’ve heard what you’ve been saying all week. I want to hear from these two.”

  The warmth in Kalani’s chest rose again, a flush she could feel playing out across her skin. Trying to force her demeanor to remain even she shifted her attention from Tseng beside her to the governor in front of her. Despite his brash manner and bombastic tone, she was a few inches taller than him, having to look downward to match his gaze.

  “I handpicked you to lead this investigation for a reason,” Randle said, the comment somewhere between a threat and prai
se. “Tell me my confidence wasn’t misplaced.”

  Twice Kalani felt her jaw move up and down before drawing in a breath through her nose, willing her pulse to slow down. “As Chief Tseng said, sir, we’ve been following up on every lead.”

  “Being politically correct starts the minute I walk out of this room,” Randle said, his voice rising a bit more. “Right now I don’t want to be fed terse sound bites. Tell me where the hell we are with things.”

  A second surge of heat rose within Kalani, this one born more of animosity than nervousness. With it came a renewed vigor as she stared at the diminutive politician across from her, used to using his stature as governor to get what he wanted.

  Rising a bit taller, Kalani accentuated the height advantage she had over the man, peering down at him. “Right now, we have two things working against us. The first is that the bodies are coming faster than we can process them. With no known association between the girls, it’s like conducting multiple separate investigations at once.”

  To either side of the governor, Hall and Wong both seemed to clench up, drawing their mouths into tight lines and standing at attention. She didn’t dare glance to Tseng or Rip, knowing she was fast approaching the line of insubordination, but finding herself not particularly caring. This was a case she had not sought out in a field she wasn’t sure she even wanted to be in any longer. The entire thing was being done out of professional courtesy to Tseng and any lingering obligation she felt to the department.

  Beyond the possibility of making her life, should she remain with the force, difficult, the governor had nothing on her. There was no call for his condescension.

  “I’m very sorry the killer hasn’t been more blatant in helping you along,” the governor replied, a growing sneer spread across his face.

  “And that’s the second thing,” Kalani said, remaining motionless, wanting so badly to take a few steps forward and wave her own finger in the governor’s face. “Maybe he has been, we just didn’t have the time to notice it, working under extreme time constraints in the dark. And maybe we could do a better job investigating if we didn’t have to be so invisible.”

  This time the comment struck pay dirt, the color of Randle’s face growing deep crimson to match his tie. He took a step forward and lowered his forehead, glaring out from beneath bushy eyebrows at her, flaring his nostrils as he drew in one breath after another.

  “Now you listen here, little girl,” he said. “I know you might think you’re big and tough, but let me remind you this is my state, and what I say goes. If I want something done quietly, it gets done quietly, or I get rid of you and find somebody that will.”

  A litany of retorts came to Kalani, all with increasing levels of vitriol, bits of fire ready to be spit out at the self-important ass standing before her. Instead she pushed a long, slow breath out through her nose, forcing her pulse to slow a tick, making sure the next words she said wouldn’t force her on a plane to join her parents in Pennsylvania.

  “My apologies, sir,” Kalani said, hating the words even as she said them. Her point had been made, at this point she had to retreat just enough to let him believe he was in control. “This case, the ferocity and gruesomeness of it, has us all a little on edge. We are working as fast as we can, and will continue to do so.”

  The governor remained in place a long moment, maintaining his stance, before a smirk broke the tension and he took a step back. He glanced to his associates, a self-righteous look on his face. “Damn right you will.”

  Once more a bubble of hatred arose deep within Kalani. She had already stepped too far over the line to risk going there again, but needed him to know she didn’t appreciate the arrogance. Instead of firing straight back at him she chose a different tact, meant to put the governor back on his heels.

  “If you could though, sir, could you please direct whoever in your camp has been speaking to the press to refrain from doing so? Keeping things quiet is tough when the media is sitting in my driveway when I get home at night.”

  The bright red veneer that had painted Randle’s cheeks slowly drained away, leaving a ghostly pallor behind. His lips parted a fraction of an inch as he turned and again looked at his staff, neither one meeting his gaze.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  The words had served their purpose. Kalani bit back a satisfied smile, knowing full well Tseng and Rip were doing the same beside her. “An investigative reporter was sitting in my driveway last night. He knew all about both incidents. Now, as far as I know, the only people that know what happened at the capitol are in this room and your security detail, and I know none of us said anything.”

  Three times in rapid sequence Randle’s mouth flapped up and down, trying in vain to find some response. After almost a full minute he turned to Hall and muttered, “Get Duke in here now.”

  Turning on a heel, Hall almost sprinted from the room, the back of his oversized shirt swinging from side to side behind him. Kalani watched him go with a bemused expression, relishing having the upper hand for even a moment, her words having the full shock value she was hoping for.

  Given her way, Kalani would have preferred for the moment to last several minutes, nothing but awkward silence as the governor paced and stammered, trying to wrap his head around the fact that his name could soon be synonymous with a scandal. Instead, it was just a matter of seconds before Hall returned, an oversized man Kalani presumed to be Duke by his side.

  The man was of Hawaiian descent, standing just under six feet tall and weighing the better part of three hundred pounds. Kalani vaguely recalled having seen him somewhere before, though his full name and title eluded her. He wore the same uniform as most of the people in the room, aloha attire offset by a dour expression.

  “Duke,” the governor said, turning as the man entered, extending a hand towards Kalani. “This woman claims someone in our camp has leaked information about what happened at the capitol the other night.”

  Completely ignoring the statement, Duke walked forward and held up a cell phone, thrusting it at the governor. “That’s going to have to wait, sir. There’s something you need to hear first.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The Iolani Palace was one of the first buildings in the United States to be lit by electricity, long before the White House. Then-king of Hawaii David Kalakaua had a fascination with science and technology that he had developed in his travels, even forming a friendship with early inventive pioneer Thomas Edison.

  In the one hundred thirty years since it was first introduced to the grounds of the Iolani Palace, not a night had passed without hundreds of bulbs burning bright. Not only did it provide illumination throughout the palace itself but lit up the grounds, distinguishing it for all who passed by as a house of royalty.

  The first thing Kalani noticed as she approached the palace, entering through the front gate and walking up towards the stately building just as visitors had done for over a century, was how dark everything seemed. Gone was any outward light from the wrought iron fixtures that encased the grounds. Unseen were any bulbs burning from within, outlining the dozens of windows that framed the building’s façade.

  “Somebody cut the power,” Kalani muttered, following the arrow-straight concrete path as it moved towards the front steps. The city around them provided just enough residual glow to mark the way, but nowhere near enough to see the horrific centerpiece they’d been told lay in wait for them.

  “Yup,” Rip agreed, moving in lockstep beside her. While his voice didn’t seem to convey the same since of tension Kalani felt, she could tell from the terse response that he was on high alert, cognizant of everything around them.

  The voicemail had been just the start of an hour scripted by the devil himself. Duke had played the message for everyone to hear, a mixed bag of reactions coming out immediately.

  The first was from Duke and Chief Tseng, putting their heads together to determine how credible the threats were and what they should do about it. Kalani and Rip watched in
silence as they batted a few ideas around before disappearing, both calling for reinforcements, looking for the manager of the resort.

  The governor was the next to react, true to form missing the importance of the revelation, seizing only on the political ramifications of what he was hearing. Over and over again he demanded that somebody find Mary-Ann Harris and bring her to him, convinced this was nothing more than a campaign tactic meant to smear him on his biggest fundraising night of the year. On his hip, catering to his every word, was Hall, phone already out, dialing anybody he could think of that might be able to help. Together they stood in the empty room before leaving in a huff, Wong shrugging his shoulders and exiting behind them.

  In the wake of the tantrum thrown by Randle the sudden silence of the room seemed overwhelming, Kalani and Rip standing in the same position on their half of the semi-circle, not another soul around. They waited a long moment to see if anybody was returning, neither sure how to respond.

  “So, want to go check out those waves?” Rip asked. “I’ve got a couple of boards stowed away in the van.”

  Under different circumstances, Kalani would have found the comment amusing. She might have even considered taking him up on it. Now, the words barely registered with her, attention focused on what took place a moment before.

  “What just happened?” she asked aloud, her face pinched up in surprise. “Why would Mary-Ann Harris call the head of the governor’s security detail and tell him something was about to take place? She had to know that this would be taken seriously. If her goal was just to mess with the event, she basically just committed career suicide.”

  Rip opened his mouth to respond before raising his hands and shrugging. He let out a small huff of air to show his uncertainty, shaking his head, before his hands fell to his side, slapping against his thighs.