Black Jasmine (2012)

by Toby Neal

  “I’m the purser. I keep track of all the guests’ bills, accounts, and activities.” With that job, he’d definitely know whatever was going on. Lei swiveled, paced past him. Stevens went on.

  “Do you know anything about some girls being kept in a stateroom on A-Deck?”

  “What do you mean?” Beads of sweat popped out on Farrell’s forehead; he tried to swipe them away and the cuffs clashed.

  “Bullshit. The purser knows everything that goes on.” Lei leaned in to his face. “Purser takes care of all the accounts, right? I bet you kept track of the girls’ fucking billing—and in this case, I mean that literally. The guy you owe money to happen to be the House?” Lei pressed in.

  Farrell’s face whitened further. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “I’m not saying another word. I want a lawyer.”

  Pay dirt. Lei made another gesture to the observation window. “My associate is going to call one for you unless you have someone local. Do you have your own lawyer?”

  “No.”

  “Get the public defender,” she said to the window. She turned back. “Too bad it’s the weekend. This could take a while. Mind if we go on?”

  She nodded her head as she said this, and like an automaton, he imitated her.

  Stevens picked up the thread. “Good. You’re small potatoes in all this, and if we get the House, your gambling debt would be canceled as a bonus. So what can you tell us about his operation?”

  “I want my lawyer,” Farrell said. His nostrils flared, a rabbit smelling wolves.

  “The lawyer’s on his way. Now talk.”

  “What can you give me? Witness protection? A plea bargain? I’m not doing time—that guy has a long arm.”

  “Tell us what you know, and I’ll tell you if it’s worth anything,” Lei countered.

  Stevens cut in. “We know you are taking your life in your hands with a character like the House. We’ll do all we can.”

  “Well.” Farrell sat back. “I’m counting on that agreement.”

  “You’ll have it,” Stevens said, blue eyes sincere. Lei tapped her toe, keeping up the pressure. “Assuming you have something worth trading for.”

  “The girls were kept on the A-Deck, nice accommodations. We’d get texts from the madam on each island for their bookings when we got into port.”

  He described a well-organized operation. The girls were taken out in a van to various hotels for parties and service when in port, and kept in a warehouse on each island. This confirmed Anchara’s story. Farrell had overseen the overall operation and coordinated the girls’ schedules.

  “They were treated well,” he said virtuously. “I had the medic up to check them out whenever they got back, and they had cable TV and healthy food. We even had them work out in the gym every day.”

  “They were sex slaves!” Lei burst out. “They thought they were getting jobs on the cruise ships to see the world. Instead, they spent their lives locked in a room and on their backs for variety!”

  Farrell recoiled, covered his face with his hands. “I never would have agreed, but I owe the House money, and he’ll take it out of me however he can!”

  Stevens shot Lei a repressive look and leaned forward sympathetically. “Detective Texeira’s taking this a little seriously. We both know those girls never had much of a future, and you did what you could for them. So who was the Maui connection when they went out?”

  “I only ever saw the handlers, Celeste and Kimo. But sometimes the guys came back in bad shape. Kimo said the Maui madam, Magda, liked to work them out. She had a bondage thing.” Farrell’s eyes skittered around as he blinked rapidly.

  “Magda? Magda Kennedy?”

  “I never got a last name.”

  Lei halted her pacing. “So we didn’t find everyone, since we only got the women.”

  She made a phone gesture at the window for Pono to call Marcella and make sure the male prisoners were found.

  “So what about the safe?” Stevens asked. “What are we going to find in there?”

  “The House used it to launder money. He’d send a lot over here from Oahu. The madam here did something with it. All I know is, the Oahu guy would bring it on and Kimo would take it out in boxes. That safe is pretty tough.” He’d obviously checked it out to see if it could be broken into. “I think Magda, whoever she is, cleaned the money for him. He didn’t have that going on the other islands. I know, because even though we ran the whores in all the ports, we only moved the money from Oahu to Maui.”

  The art world was a perfect place to launder money. All those expensive paintings and sculptures that could be bought and sold—not to mention Magda Kennedy’s connection to the real estate sector. Perhaps it was the House’s money that was powering Wylie Construction even in the current economic downturn.

  Pono’s broad brown face appeared in the little mesh window in the door. He was holding up a cell phone.

  Lei opened the door, and he handed it to her.

  “Texeira. What the hell are you doing?” Marcella didn’t sound happy.

  “Just a little interview of the ship’s purser. Caught the rat climbing off the ship. I’m recording the interview, but you’d better get here fast because he’s asked for his lawyer.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Marcella exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me you caught someone?”

  “Why should you have all the fun? Besides, finders keepers. He’s got a lot to say. He’s a credible witness, and he’s making our case against both that snooty bitch Magda Kennedy and the House. Now we’ll have two witnesses, with the Thai girl.” Lei couldn’t help the satisfaction that had crept into her voice.

  “He got a name for the House? ’Cause it’s hard to generate a federal arrest warrant without a name.”

  “Let me get back in there and see. Did you get the message about the men?”

  “Yeah, we already found them at the bottom of the ship behind a false wall. They had a tanning bed, a Bowflex, and a lot of pipes in the ceiling. They’re on their way to the station.”

  “Do they know anything?”

  “Most of the poor dudes can’t even speak English. Nothing good from them so far. Anyway, I’m on my way.” Marcella hung up.

  Lei shut the phone and handed it back to Pono. “What’s up with the public defender?”

  “It’s Fujimoto on call. He wasn’t happy getting out here on the weekend, but he’s on his way.”

  “Crap. Okay.”

  Lei went back in. Sat down. Gave Farrell her best narrow-eyed stare.

  “Got a name for the House?”

  “I want something in writing on my witness protection and immunity deal before I tell you anything more.” Farrell seemed to have used the break to find his backbone, and try as she might, Lei couldn’t get him to budge.

  Public defender Al Fujimoto, Lieutenant Omura, Marcella, and Rogers all arrived, all black suits and badges, and relegated Lei and Stevens to the peanut gallery with Pono. Omura had the DA on the line and an immunity agreement and protection order faxed over in less time than Lei had ever seen. Marcella slapped the document down in front of the purser, who’d begun licking his lips compulsively, a nervous tic.

  “We’ve got you what you want. Now give us what we want.”

  “I’ve only ever heard him called the House, but I know his money guy on Oahu. He’s an accountant in Honolulu, and his name’s Ken Taketa. He must know everything about the House’s operation. He brings the cash on board and loads it in the safe for the delivery to Maui.”

  He went on to describe in detail all he’d already given Lei and Stevens. Marcella came out of the interview with a signed statement.

  “I forgive you for cutting me out on this witness, but we’re even from that Kaua`i thing, now and forever.” Marcella gave Lei a hug.

  “Okay. That Kaua`i one stung, you know—you took my intel and tried to make my bust without me. I just had a crack at a witness first.”

  “You know it would be different if you joined me at the Bureau.
I’m on the next flight to Oahu. I’ve already alerted HPD to send a unit to pick up Taketa. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Good working with you again,” Lei said, squeezing her friend back. Marcella socked her in the arm and glanced over at Stevens, who was intently watching the wrap-up in the interview room.

  “Time’s a-wasting,” Marcella stage-whispered. “Quantico wants you.”

  “Quit bugging me. I’ll call you.”

  Rogers gestured, and Marcella set off after him at a jog—they had a plane and a crime lord to catch.

  Omura appeared in the doorway of the observation booth. “Go get Magda Kennedy.”

  “Yes!” Lei said, breaking into a grin echoed by Omura. Lei, Stevens, and Pono headed out at a jog.

  Chapter 34

  In no time, they were on the road to Lahaina, driving fast, cop lights on as the purple truck followed Lei’s Tacoma—singed in the fire but still functional. Pono radioed ahead to have a patrol unit watch the gallery since the drive was over an hour. They careened along the swooping curves of the Pali above the crystalline ocean.

  Just to be back in her truck, something familiar and totally hers, felt great to Lei, especially with her adrenaline up to catch the Kennedy woman. She glanced over at Stevens and matched his grin. The two-lane road cleared before the siren, people pulling off on the shoulders, and she put the pedal down just to remember how fast her truck would go.

  She glanced in her rearview mirror. Pono’s truck was hard-pressed to follow, so she eased up on the gas. They eventually pulled up in front of the Pacific Treasures Gallery, double-parking against the busy sidewalk behind the patrol unit, who reported no movement.

  Lei jumped out, instinctively touching her gun, making sure her badge was in plain sight and her cuffs tucked into her back pocket. Pono slammed the door of his vehicle and joined them on the sidewalk. They strode to the doors, which slid open with a whisper and a draft of cool air-conditioning.

  Lei hurried past the Lucite sculpture that had distracted her last time, keeping her eyes on the woman across the gallery, a tall, bottled blonde in a white Grecian-styled gown.

  “Where’s Magda Kennedy?”

  “Who may I say is asking?”

  “Maui Police Department.” Lei tapped the badge on her belt, and Pono and Stevens held theirs up.

  “I’ll see if she has time to speak to you.”

  “We’ll show ourselves up,” Stevens said, heading past the burled desk for the back wall, where an elevator was semi-concealed behind a shining silk screen.

  “Wait!” exclaimed the woman, punching buttons on the phone.

  Lei got into the small elevator beside Stevens. He punched the button marked OFFICES.

  “She’s sounding the alarm.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  The elevator slid open in mere seconds. Gleaming black marble floors led to a hallway with several doors marked SCULPTURE, WALL ART, CERAMICS, or TEXTILES. Lei headed for the one marked OFFICE and didn’t pause to knock. She just hit the door with her shoulder as she turned the knob and ended up staggering a few steps into the luxurious room, surprised to find it unlocked. Pono and Stevens followed, guns drawn.

  A bank of windows looked out at the ocean, a sparkling turquoise contrast to the polished ebony desk and sweep of velvety dark carpet. A black Mac computer decorated the desk like a sculpture, with three small Japanese porcelain cups beneath it. Not a paper marred the surface of the desk except a single tray marked OUT with a manila envelope in it. MRS. CORPUZ was written on it in block letters with a Kahului address.

  “No one here,” Stevens said.

  “She could be hiding.”

  “I’ll check the other doors,” Pono said, and headed out.

  Lei went behind the desk and spotted a door set flush in the silk-covered walls, with nothing but the crack of an outline marking it. There was no apparent door handle. She and Stevens felt up and down the expanse.

  Lei put her hands on her hips.

  “I bet this has an ‘open sesame’ somewhere. The desk?”

  She and Stevens pulled at the drawers—all locked. Lei took a paper clip from one of the little porcelain cups under the monitor, opened it, and inserted it into the main desk drawer, wiggling it around until she heard a click.

  She opened the drawer and felt along the top under the smooth polished black wood until she felt a button. Pushed it.

  The door in the wall whispered open, and a bluish glow beckoned from inside. Stevens stood to the side, gun out, waiting. He gestured with his head.

  She pulled the Glock and took the other side of the doorway, Stevens covering as she sprang in.

  “Police!”

  A bank of computers ringed a cockpit-like half-circle table, and there, face lit by the glowing reflected technology, sat Magda Kennedy.

  “It’s gone. All gone.” She looked up at them, blue eyes cavernous, seemingly unsurprised by their intrusion and drawn weapons. “She’s wiped me out.”

  Chapter 35

  Chapman, the lawyer, handed Magda a bottle of water. The woman sipped like an automaton. She hadn’t spoken a word as they took her out in cuffs and brought her back to Kahului Station, except to tell the fluttering blonde to call her lawyer as they walked her across the gallery. She’d conferred with the lawyer in private for a moment upon his arrival, and now Chapman said, “My client would like to make a statement.”

  “By all means.” Lei gestured to the notepad on the table. Stevens turned on the video camera, and he came and sat beside Lei. Pono had taken up his post in the observation booth along with the captain and Lieutenant Omura.

  “I am missing an employee,” Magda said, each word distinct. She ignored the notepad. “My gallery manager. She’s been my right hand.”

  “Who is this?” Stevens asked.

  “Her name’s Karen Walker—I count on her to run the day-to-day operations. She didn’t come in today—or if she did, she left the office early. I got a call from the gallery downstairs when she didn’t show up, which is highly unusual, as she lives in the same building as the gallery, on the top floor. I went up and checked her apartment—I have a key, as I rent the unit to her as part of her salary. Anyway, a suitcase and some clothes were missing, and it looked like she’d left in a hurry. I got worried and went down to the office. She’s done something to the computers. All our inventory is on them, and they are all just…blank.”

  “Wow. That sounds serious.” Lei let skepticism into her voice. This was Magda Kennedy’s story? But—it was so far-fetched it just might be true.

  “That’s not all. She cleaned out the safe.” The pride had seeped out of Magda’s voice and it trembled. She twisted one of the gold bangles around and around her wrist. “I was trying to see what she’d done when you showed up. I think she must have been doing something illegal.”

  “What do you know about this?” Lei slid the white satin card over to her.

  “I told you. I passed it on for a friend. It’s an escort service.”

  “We’ve been through this before,” Chapman huffed.

  “It’s a prostitution operation with ties to organized crime, being run by someone called Magda. We have two witnesses who can corroborate.” Lei watched Magda’s pale face go a shade whiter. She tossed back her silky black hair, a nervous gesture. She wore a dark green T-shirt and jeans, face bare of makeup, and she was still stunning. She glanced at Chapman.

  “This is a nightmare. Karen set me up.”

  The interview went on as they quizzed Magda on the connections to the ships, the girls, the money. She denied it all.

  Omura appeared at the little wire-lined window that looked into the room and gestured. They got up.

  “We’ll be back. We’re going to check a few things.”

  Lei and Stevens stepped out into the hall. “Yes, Lieutenant?” Stevens asked.

  “This is Karen Walker.” She held up two printed color photocopies. A head shot, professionally done, of a woman in one of
the Grecian-styled white dresses worn on the floor of the gallery. Tilted green eyes under straight brows stared haughtily down a blade of a nose, contrasting with a full, sensual mouth. An artful tumble of red curls framed a stunning, porcelain-skinned face. Lei suddenly remembered that face, standing at the back of the gallery the first time she and Pono had visited. She shut her eyes to remember—but the image was blurry.

  She’d been so upset by that Lucite angel.

  “What a looker,” Stevens said, perusing the photo. Lei elbowed him as she took her copy.

  “Someone needs to take these to the two witnesses and check if this is the 'Magda’ they know. Stevens, you take this shot to Maui County Correctional, where we have the purser, and Lei, you go to the safe house and show this to the Thai girl. I’ll take over for a while.”

  Omura had a smile lurking around her mouth as she headed into the interview room. Lei sighed—she hated to leave the interview, but it was actually a miracle Omura hadn’t gone in sooner. She felt almost sorry for the gallery owner as she headed for her truck. The woman’s bewilderment and betrayal had seemed genuine, and going into another round of interviews with Omura was enough to give anyone a cramp.

  Lei got on the road for the safe house, glancing over at the photo of Walker on the seat beside her. They’d been so sure it was Magda all along…but in a few minutes they’d know for sure.

  She drove out of Kahului on the winding country road that bordered a ravine plummeting into `Iao Valley, ascending the ridge. Lei realized that she hadn’t eaten anything all day; her stomach rumbled loudly as she popped open the glove box, leaning over and fumbling with one hand for her emergency granola bar.

  The truck lurched suddenly and she banged her head on the steering wheel.

  “What the hell?” The Tacoma veered dangerously close to the steel girder that was the only thing between her and space, and she yanked the wheel the other way, overcompensating, glancing into the rearview mirror.

  That view had filled with the looming black shape of an oncoming SUV.