by Toby Neal
“It might have been better to keep him home today.” Mrs. Hayashi had a crease of worry between her tattooed-on brows. “He cried a lot. Very upset his daddy was going away to the military?” Those expressive brows rose in question.
“Yes. Michael will be gone six months.” It wasn’t worth trying to explain Stevens’s role. “I was worried he’d be upset. Thanks for understanding.”
“It was no problem. Kiet’s just usually such a happy boy.” Mrs. Hayashi patted Kiet’s back. “You come back tomorrow with that smiling face I know and love, okay?”
Kiet nodded but didn’t lift his face from Lei’s neck. She had to pry him off to put him in his booster seat in the extended cab as the other cars waited behind them.
She pulled back onto the highway for the drive to his grandma’s house, feeling the stab of her own loss as she glanced in her rearview mirror at her son’s woebegone face. He leaned his head on the window, looking out at the passing landscape.
“I’m sorry you had a bad day, little man. I had a bad day, too, missing Daddy.”
“Why did he have to go?”
“He has an important job to do. Wants to help people overseas.” Stevens had put Lei in the position of having to defend a decision she didn’t agree with. One more reason to be pissed.
“I think he should stay here at home and help people.” Kiet’s lip trembled.
“Do you want to call and leave him a message on his voice mail? He might not answer, because he’s taking planes today, but you can tell him how you feel.” That would serve Stevens right. She picked up her phone and voice-dialed Stevens, then handed it to Kiet.
“Daddy, I miss you. I had a bad day,” Kiet said when the Record button beeped. “I want you to come home. Love you, Daddy.” The little boy pressed the Off button and handed Lei back the phone. She put it away.
“So what did you do today?”
“We made a piñata. For art.” Leaving the phone message seemed to have helped Kiet. In the rearview mirror, she saw the boy rub his puffy eyes with his hands. “We sang the alphabet song and Auntie Sherry played the ukulele.” Auntie Sherry was the aide, and Lei smiled at the thought of the big Hawaiian lady in her bright muumuu accompanying the kids with the small guitarlike instrument.
“I hope someone recorded it.”
“Mrs. Hayashi did with her phone.”
“Did you sing?”
Kiet shrugged and didn’t answer, and Lei felt her heart squeeze.
They’d reached Ellen’s house, and Lei turned into the driveway. A small ohana cottage, Ellen Rockford Stevens’s place was set off the driveway of a bigger home, nestled under a spreading lychee tree. Her dog, Charlie, a medium-sized stray of unknown breed that she’d adopted from one of her homeless friends, barked a greeting from the porch, his plumy black-and-white tail wagging. Ellen came to the door.
“How’s my favorite grandson?” she exclaimed. Kiet fumbled his seat belt off and opened the truck’s door himself, hopping down and running to give his grandma a hug.
Lei followed more slowly, carrying Kiet’s backpack. Her mother-in-law was a few inches taller than Lei, with a slender build and Stevens’s crystal-blue eyes. Ellen had been painfully thin when Lei met her, physically ravaged by alcoholism. Five years of healthy living in Hawaii had brightened her eyes, cleared up her complexion, and put healthy, toned flesh on her frame. She now worked from home as a paralegal, a profession she’d had when Michael and his brother, Jared, were young, and taught yoga three times a week at the senior center.
Her eyes met Lei’s as Kiet embraced her. “I was sad to hear of Michael’s plans,” Ellen said to Lei over the little boy’s head.
“Me too. Our boy here had a hard day at school.”
“Did you, now?” Ellen dropped to her knees in front of Kiet. “You know, Daddy is my little boy and I miss him, too. Thank God I have you. Today’s a day for ice cream and cartoons, don’t you think?”
“Yes!” Kiet exclaimed, glum face brightening. He clapped his hands and ran into the house, Charlie following him with an excited yap.
“Oh, Lei.” Ellen opened her arms, and Lei leaned in for a hug, squeezing the older woman tightly. They’d been through a lot of slow, steady healing in the five years since Ellen had moved to Maui, landing on Lei and Stevens’s doorstep. “I’m so sorry he decided to go through with deployment. But we know alcoholism, however it gets started, is a cunning, baffling, and powerful disease. It makes people do crazy things.”
They’d never come right out and talked about her husband’s drinking. Lei had never wanted to go there even though Ellen had left openings to talk about it before. Even now she felt defensiveness rise up but die again as she gazed into Stevens’s mother’s steady eyes, so like his.
Ellen would know alcoholism when she saw it, even in her own son.
“He says part of why he’s going is to get sober.”
Ellen shrugged. “He wouldn’t listen to me when I told him pulling a geographical wasn’t going to work. But I told him anyway.”
“Well.” Lei gave a deliberate shrug. “Let go and let God, right?” One of the twelve-step sayings her dad, Wayne, sometimes used.
“Let go or go nuts, is what I say.”
Lei snorted a reluctant laugh. “Thanks for taking Kiet. I wanted to pick him up today because I suspected he’d be upset, and I’m glad I did. But without Michael doing half the pickup, I need help. Can you get him on days I can’t? I’ve got a fresh case right now that’s taking every extra minute.”
“Sure. Of course. In fact, I’d be able to pick him up the rest of the week.”
“Nana! Come watch cartoons!” Kiet called from inside.
“Thanks again.” Lei walked back to the truck, raising a hand to her mother-in-law. Ellen would bring Kiet home and Wayne would watch him until Lei got home, whenever that was.
Back on the road to the station, she thought over the search they’d done of Danielle Phillips’s University of Hawaii office.
Dr. Farnsworth, the UH department head, was an imposing woman with iron-gray hair in a tousled shag and a mass of handmade bead jewelry decorating a substantial chest.
“I can’t tell you how saddened I am to hear about Lani.” Farnsworth’s eyes were red-rimmed. “I put together this list of friends and colleagues of hers, but everyone’s reaction has been the same: We’re all shocked and grieved.”
“I’m sure. Thanks so much.” Lei took the list. “Do you know if there was a computer password?” She indicated the desktop and laptop computers on the victim’s cluttered desk.
“I’m sure she had her own passwords.”
“We’ll have to take them in, then. Temporarily,” Lei said, even as Pono went around unplugging. Gloved up, they had done a thorough search of the small space, and by the time Lei had to leave to get Kiet, they had a small pile of files that looked potentially interesting, most notably Danielle’s file on Ben Miller.
Now she was on the way to a brief meeting with Captain Omura before she and Pono left to search the victim’s primary residence. She pulled into the station and hurried inside, meeting Pono, already seated, in front of Omura’s desk.
Her commanding officer for years now, Captain C. J. Omura was aging gracefully. Omura’s sparkling dark eyes had a few creases beside them, and she’d succumbed to wearing heels of a slightly lower height. Otherwise, the elegant captain was unchanged.
“Glad you could join us, Texeira.” Omura cocked a finger at Lei. “I didn’t want to grant Stevens’s military leave, for what it’s worth. I denied it, and he went over my head. Felt like busting him down a rank for that alone.” Omura’s diamond-hard eyes glinted. “So you’ll pardon me if I wish him a little bout of diarrhea or fleas over there in the Middle East, or wherever he ended up.”
“You aren’t the only one he left short-handed.” Lei brushed down her black jeans briskly. “Thanks for understanding. I’m going to be covering parenting for both of us for the next six months, and I know it’s going to pla
y hell with my schedule.”
“That’s why I’ll let you go home after the searches. I’ll put a couple more crime techs on processing the evidence you two bring in.”
“Thank you, Captain. What has Pono brought you up to speed on?”
“What’s been done so far on the case?” Omura tapped her manicured nails together, a castanet-like clicking.
“Well, we’re following up in several directions at once. We’re headed out to search the house now. We have some interesting files from her office to comb through. We have her stalker, Ben Miller, to bring in. We have the list of illegal fish poachers.”
“What do you think is most urgent?” Omura asked.
“The home search,” Lei said promptly.
“Why? Bringing in Ben Miller seems like a priority. And following up with these cited fishermen from the list the DLNR gave us.” Omura touched the document in question.
“I’ve got a feeling about the husband,” Lei said. “And I want to search Danielle’s things. Get to know her better.”
“I told you, I think you’re off about the husband this time.” Pono fiddled with his Oakleys, spinning them by one of the stems. “The doer was most likely one of the fishermen, realizing she was photographing. Or maybe the stalker, following her out there. The husband has an alibi, and the logistics alone are near impossible.”
“I know. But we need to probe everything. Something was strange about his worry about Danielle, and then the lack of follow-through—to not report her missing when he knew she was doing something dangerous like scuba diving alone,” Lei said.
“All right. Here’s how I want you to tackle this list of leads. Have a couple of uniforms go out and scoop up Ben Miller and bring him in for an interview. Meanwhile, go to the victim’s house and do the search. We want to see if Danielle had any secrets of her own besides the DLNR reporting. Then search the Zodiac. That ought to take you through dinnertime.” Omura already had her eyes on her computer screen. “Dismissed.”
Pono wanted to call home before they left, and that reminded Lei that she wanted to pick up the extra set of keys to their house and cars that Stevens kept in his office desk, in case anyone got into it while he was gone.
She jogged up a floor to the administrative level, where the background functions of the Maui Police Department took place—the bookkeeping department, administrative support, regular tech department. It was also the floor where Stevens’s office was located. Lei hurried to the door with LT. M. STEVENS on it—and noticed it was ajar.
She pushed it lightly with a finger, looking inside. A young woman, shapely in a tight-fitting uniform, was sitting at her husband’s desk. “Help you?”
Lei frowned at the sight. “Saw the door was open. This is my husband’s office. He’s on military leave.”
“Oh. I share his office.” The woman stood up, straightening her shirt, and came around the desk with her hand extended. “My desk is right here.” She indicated the similar setup across from Stevens’s area. “I was just on his computer doing some reports. You must be Sergeant Texeira. I’m Sergeant Kathy Fraser. Michael’s partner.” Fraser had deep blue eyes under dark brows, neatly braided long brown hair, and a firm handshake. “We worked closely together training the new recruits. I’m covering his duties for him.”
Lei kept her expression neutral with an effort, the back of her neck prickling with heat. She didn’t like finding this attractive female in her husband’s space. “Funny. He never mentioned you.”
Fraser had a strained tightness around her mouth, but she flapped a hand dismissively. “Oh, well. It was boring stuff. Presentations, PowerPoints, training exercises. I’m sure you’re too busy with cases to keep up with each other’s activities. Though I told him months ago I thought it was a bad idea for him to go overseas.”
“Months ago?” Had her husband told Fraser his deployment date and kept it secret from Lei? The betrayal stole her breath. There must be some mistake. “It was a sudden deployment.”
“I guess, relatively, but he had to have immunizations and such, and we had to plan coverage for him.” Fraser must have seen the savage expression on Lei’s face, because she retreated hastily behind the desk. “I told him he was crazy. Seriously, I tried to talk him out of it, and not just because I have to cover his duties. But if you have any questions about my use of his desk, I’m sure Captain Omura can answer them.” Fraser sat down and looked pointedly at her computer, clicking the mouse as if too busy to talk.
Lei stood there for another moment. Her mouth was dry, stomach roiling, fists balled. He’d known his departure date for months and he hadn’t told her. But she couldn’t let it on to this woman. It was too humiliating. “Well, I came up for his spare keys. In the desk.”
“Oh. Of course.” Fraser pulled out the middle drawer, grabbed the keys, and set them on the edge of the desk closest to Lei.
She knew right where they were.
Lei scooped the heavy handful of metal into her hand. “It was nice to meet you,” she managed.
“Likewise.” Fraser looked up with a bright, fake smile.
Lei shut the office door behind her a little harder than necessary. She really, really needed to talk to Stevens, and she needed a moment to compose herself. She went to the women’s room. After using the stall, she eyed herself in the mirror over the sink as she washed her hands.
“You look like hell,” she muttered. Her hair roiled around her freckle-spattered face in a mass of frizz, most of it twisted back harshly in a ponytail. Her tank top and jeans had dog hair on them, and as usual, she wore no makeup.
Why would Stevens have been talking about his plans to beautiful, well-put-together Kathy Fraser? He’d been so secretive with Lei—she hadn’t even known he was going at all until after the contract was signed.
Fraser was his partner. The woman probably had to know because she had to cover Michael’s duties. He probably hadn’t told Lei because he knew how pissed she was going to be. He’d waited until the last minute to tell her when he was leaving, hoping to avoid more drama.
Lei did some relaxation breaths and splashed water on her face. It’s probably nothing.
But she didn’t really believe that. She wanted to scream at Stevens, rip the hair right out of his head, and kick his ass for good measure. She couldn’t help remembering the complicated loyalties they’d dealt with during his marriage to Anchara—they hadn’t slept together until after his divorce, but their love for each other had been a betrayal of another kind.
Could that be happening again?
Lei paced and breathed, not leaving the bathroom until she had her face and demeanor back under control. This was simply going to have to wait until she could talk to Stevens about it.
Back at her cubicle, Lei won the coin toss this time, and they took her silver Tacoma back out to the pretty house in Wailuku Heights.
Lei frowned as they turned into the driveway. The garage door was down, but there was a car parked in front, a cream-colored Mercedes coupe. “Someone’s visiting.”
They parked behind the Mercedes. Lei snapped on latex gloves at the doorstep, setting down her crime kit, as Pono rang the bell.
No answer.
“They must be distracted.” Pono leaned on the bell this time.
The door finally opened. Frank Phillips faced them, pushing thinning black hair back with a hand. His shirt was unbuttoned, exposing hairy six-pack abs over a pair of jeans.
“We’re here to search the premises.” Pono handed Phillips the warrant. Lei averted her eyes from the man’s disheveled appearance, brushing past Phillips and walking into the house. She had a target for her rage, and it was whatever lay at the back of the house.
“I’ll begin in the bedroom,” Lei said over her shoulder. She strode down the carpeted hall.
“Hey!” Phillips exclaimed, grabbing Lei’s arm.
Lei stopped, eyes narrowed. “Remove your hand. Or I’ll remove it for you.”
Phillips took his hand off her
arm. “I demand to know what this is about.”
“Standard operating procedure in any homicide,” Pono said. “Remember what we told you at the station? We always search the home of the victim. Haven’t you watched CSI?”
“Hey!” Phillips yelled after Lei. “I’m calling my lawyer!”
Lei pushed open the bedroom door. She came to an abrupt halt as a blond woman in the king-sized bed drew black satin sheets up to her chin with a squeal.
Chapter Eight
Frank Phillips, Pono in pursuit, came to a halt beside Lei. “I can’t believe it’s legal for you to barge into my home like this!”
“It’s legal, all right.” Lei felt a righteous anger boil up through her from someplace deep inside. “I’m looking at some nice motive right here. Not sure your wife is cold in the morgue yet, Frank, and yet here you are, banging a bottled blonde.”
“I’m naturally blond, thank you very much. And I’d appreciate a moment to change.” The woman tried to gather some dignity.
“I don’t believe we got your name,” Lei said.
“Barbara Selzmann. Can I get a moment of privacy?”
“This is outrageous!” Frank blustered. “Harassment!”
“We’ll give you a moment. But only a moment. Feel free to call your attorney, Frank. You’re going to need one.” Lei gave him a ferocious smile.
She hated Frank Phillips at this moment. Married to a dedicated, passionate, beautiful woman like Danielle and screwing some country-club matron on the side? That’s what Barbara Selzmann looked like, from her expensively touched-up hair to the diamond tennis bracelet that winked from her wrist.
Lei couldn’t help thinking of Kathy Fraser, sitting at her husband’s desk. Touching his keys. Knowing important business that he hadn’t told Lei, his wife.
Lei stomped through the house, hearing the murmur of Pono’s voice in the background. She looked for where Danielle had been sleeping—because she was almost sure it wasn’t in the king-sized sleigh bed with those tacky black satin sheets in the master bedroom.