Dead On Arrival (A Malia Fern Mystery)

by Kym Roberts

“Please, Kionni,” I pleaded.

  He turned around at his truck door. “Mr. Johnson only became active in the project about six weeks ago. Mostly by phone conference, but he seemed to have a picture of where he wanted the project to go.”

  Finally, someone was giving me answers. “Did you meet with Mr. Johnson once he came to the island?”

  Kionni looked away and ran his fingers through his hair, behavior that was completely out of character for him. “I actually met him in New Mexico.”

  My mind blanked. I couldn’t believe it. My brother had gone to the mainland without me knowing? Did my parents know?

  “Why?”

  Again, he squirmed. “Some of the workers found the ruins of an ancient Heiau on the property. Originally, it was in a wooded area next to the old hotel, but with the current layout, it was going to be in the direct path of the bulldozers. I showed Daven Raines, who’s been in charge of the project from the beginning. But he couldn’t grasp its importance. He called it “a pile of rock with a wooden shack.” Kionni actually made quotation marks in the air when he said it. “He scheduled it to be demolished. I couldn’t just let that happen and if I tried to go through the courts, it was going to take too long. So I flew to New Mexico to meet with Mr. Johnson.”

  For a moment, I was at a loss for words. My brother had never shown an interest in Hawaiian heritage, let alone a passion to preserve our history. He’d flown to the mainland to protect it. Really? It was mind-boggling.

  “What did Mr. Johnson say?” I asked.

  “I knew I was taking a big chance and I wasn’t sure how he’d react, but he actually knew more about Heiaus than I did. He called Raines while I was there. Even though he didn’t understand the problem, Raines was pleasant and said he’d already stopped the demolition. He’d already thought about moving the spa, which was allocated for the area where we found the Heiau, to the beach. And he did away with a hut for beach rentals since there was already one next door. Finding the Heiau was the perfect answer for him, so they went ahead with the plans with the architect to have the Heiau restored and a garden area surrounding it. The plans are set. We’re just waiting for zoning approval.”

  “So you over-reacted.”

  “No. When I got back, the demolition was almost to the Heiau. I called Johnson, and he tried to get in contact with Raines, but couldn’t reach him. So he ordered me to stop the construction around the area and hired Lincoln Security Firm to protect it.”

  “Wow, that’s a little drastic, don’t you think?”

  “No, when Raines finally surfaced, he apologized and said there was a miscommunication between him and his assistant. He was really sincere, but Johnson didn’t want to take a chance on any more miscommunications, so the guards’ presence acted as our safety net.”

  “So there was no problem between the developers?”

  “None. They got along very well.”

  My shoulders slumped with disappointment. I really wanted there to be some dirt between these two guys.

  John would tell me that’s the point of an investigation. You can’t ‘want’ something. You have to let the evidence lead you to the right person, not your desires. So maybe I was wrong. Maybe Peter Johnson did fall off the rocks in a drunken stupor.

  “Did you ever meet with Johnson while he was on the island?”

  “Once at the office last week. He was looking for Raines, but he was nowhere to be found. Although Raines was in charge of the project, he island hops frequently working on other projects, which can cause him to be forgetful.”

  “What was Johnson’s mood like when you saw him at the office?” I was beginning to think I was up a totem pole with no way to get down. This was going nowhere.

  “Johnson seemed surprised by the slow progress of the construction. He kept asking about when we started contract negotiations, building plans and the date we actually started working at the site. He seemed confused about the details, but that was it.”

  The one question I didn’t want to ask, had to be asked. “Were you aware of Johnson ever using drugs or partying?”

  “There were rumors, but the guy’s dead. Why drag his name through the mud now?”

  Again, my disappointment tried to surface. I wanted Kionni to clear Johnson, but he didn’t. He left the uncertainty floating around in my head.

  “Who chose the Lincoln Security Firm?” I asked, trying to change my mood.

  “I asked Dad what company was good and had reasonable rates. He said Lincoln Security Firm was the best and since Dad knows the owner, I recommended them to Johnson and Raines.”

  Oh, shit.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Despite the trade winds blowing my blouse in the breeze, I felt the world closing in on me, constricting my chest like a boa constrictor going in for the kill.

  My dad knew Pai. My dad brought Pai to Kaua’i. Then my best friend tried to set me up with Pai. Were they working together to plan my future?

  After Kionni left, I went inside Private Kaua’EYE’s and dropped off the receipts for the orders of protection Lani had served. She was gone for the day, but that didn’t stop me from calling her and quizzing her up this side of the island, and down the other while sounds of her son’s baseball game bled through her answers.

  “How do you know Pai?”

  “We’ve worked a few cases together.” A parent booed in the background.

  “Did you know my dad brought him to the island?”

  “Pai may have mentioned something about a favor for a friend.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

  “Did my dad ask you to set me up with him?”

  “Why would he do that?” Another deflect, another smile. She was definitely laughing at me.

  “Did you know he’s related to a cop on the PD?”

  “Really? Who?” She asked.

  The cop sleeping on my sofa bed. “I don’t know, just some cop,” I lied.

  “Well most of us are,” she replied.

  She denied everything, and I wanted to believe her, but sometimes the truth will bite you in the ass when you least expect it.

  I gave up when Scotty came up to bat, and left the office feeling no better. Every bit of me wanted to return to my apartment and beg Makaio for sex. At least then, I’d be choosing my own partner. That would probably be a huge mistake, but it’d be my mistake. I wasn’t ready to have a partner for life, and that’s exactly what Pai represented.

  I tried deep breaths to calm my sense of panic as I drove through my favorite tunnel of trees on the road to Poipu. For the first time in my life, I had island fever. Five hundred and fifty two point three square miles was not enough room for me to escape the possibility of a committed relationship. Nope. I had to get out. Now.

  But I had a job to do. The sun had set and I had a date with a security guard. I went through the drive-thru of my favorite hamburger joint and ordered a plain double cheeseburger with no bun, fries and a double chocolate shake before I went to my spot on the hill and pulled out my fork to dig into my burger. Then I reached over and pulled the bag of supplies Pai had given to me from the floorboard.

  I was halfway through the guards’ files when I spotted a green minivan pulling into the lot. It disappeared along the hedge but then reappeared at the guard shack where it made a U-turn and parked directly behind the small wooden building.

  The driver got out and approached the female working the day shift. They were dressed in the typical khaki shorts and Hawaiian shirt uniforms for a beachfront condo unit. However, what caught my eye was his height, or rather his lack of height. He looked a lot shorter than the five foot eight inches my file said he should be. I’d have to get close to take a picture and make sure of his identity.

  He carried what appeared to be a lunch box as he patted the woman on the shoulder and she got on a bicycle and rode away. I ducked down when she appeared on the road and peddled past me on her bike. She was definitely Maggie Chu, Asian female born in 1983, as I’d just read.

 
; I watched her crest the hill in my side mirror and I sat up to finish my fries and shake. Ten minutes later, boredom began to set in. This job sucked.

  Luckily, Joe Beckwith was just as bored as I was. He left the shack, got back in his green minivan and turned toward me as Maggie had done. I ducked down in the seat as a loud drumbeat blasted through the night air. Green Day began singing “Do You Know Your Enemy” from the passenger seat of my car. The knuckles of my left hand tightened on the steering wheel as I scrambled to answer my cell phone, start my car and make a U-turn to follow Joe all at the same time.

  “Hello?” I whispered for some inexplicable reason. The engine purred to life and I pulled away from the curb.

  “Babe, I thought I’d wake up naked with a beautiful woman in my arms.”

  Makaio. My heartbeat revved like my car engine as I raced to catch up with my target.

  “I have to work,” I explained to both of us.

  “Tonight?” He sounded disappointed.

  Now I was devastated. “Yes, my job doesn’t have set hours.” A horn blared as I cut off a car to catch up with my mark.

  “Where are you?” His voice no longer tried to undress me. It was, however, trying to butt in where it didn’t belong.

  “Makaio, I really can’t talk, I’m busy.”

  “Tell me where you are and I’ll help you with whatever job you’re working on.”

  Yeah, like we’d work if he was sitting in my small car with me. I don’t think so. “You’d cramp my style,” I said, letting him know in no uncertain terms this was none of his business.

  “Are you breaking the law?”

  I glanced down at my speedometer. I was definitely breaking at least two laws at the moment, but I needed to find my target. I breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted the green minivan in front of me about five blocks.

  “Define breaking the law,” I asked casually as my pulse slowed.

  “Driving like an idiot while talking on the phone and making people honk their horns at you.” His voice had a hint of anger to it. Anger I didn’t have time for.

  “That’s not very specific. I gotta go, Makaio, you’re distracting me.”

  “I’d like to distract you in person, like I did earlier.” Just like that, he made my libido flair.

  Shit! The tire hit the edge of the pavement, the wheels pulled, and I dropped the phone as gravel flew. Thankfully, I was able to gain control of the vehicle. I glanced around for my phone. My face was burning from the adrenaline of almost killing myself, along with a little embarrassment. Okay, mostly embarrassment, knowing Makaio hadn’t been asleep when my body responded to his magical fingers was like doing the walk of shame. Another reminder that I wasn’t the wham, bam thank you, Sam type of gal.

  “I gotta go,” I said into the phone as I picked it up from the floorboard at my feet. I hung up before he had the opportunity to respond. At that particular moment, I really didn’t need to think about his hands, what they could do, or what I had done.

  As my target headed out Kaumuali’i Highway, I dropped back so all I could see were his taillights. He turned right on LeLe Road, and I slowed down to pull into a restaurant parking lot across the street, as he pulled into a local convenience store. Grabbing my new binoculars from the passenger seat, I zeroed in on Joe getting out of his car and entering the store.

  He went straight to the coffee station where I could only see his head behind racks of bread. Standing in front of a large Kona Coffee display, it was obvious he was getting a fix of dark liquid caffeine. I could almost smell the island brew. I might have walked across the street myself to indulge, but the side effects of dealing with added energy and needing to use the restroom stopped me.

  Joe’s behavior was normal for anyone who worked dogwatch, but I was pretty sure he should have stopped to get the coffee on his way to work, not after he arrived. As he approached the counter, his entire body came into view. He reached into his rear pants pocket for his wallet.

  Deeply engrossed in my first surveillance, I jumped when a giggle to my left caught me off-guard. I yanked the binoculars away from my face and dropped them in my lap. Pretending to fix my makeup in the rear view mirror, I watched a woman, accompanied by a much older man, walk toward the rear parking lot behind the restaurant. The way they groped each other on the way to their vehicle defined their relationship.

  Once they were out of sight, I pulled my binoculars back to my face just in time to see my target smiling like an idiot at the clerk. His smile held almost as much meaning as the pawing hands of the couple who were undoubtedly making out in their vehicle right now. I adjusted the binoculars to scope out the object of his desire, who stood on a raised platform behind the counter.

  And got an eyeful of boobs.

  Boobs, that I could unfortunately identify. I knew them well, because they weren’t just any boobs. They were Windy boobs.

  I looked at her face anyway. She was sporting her practiced come-do-me-big-boy look that made men trip all over themselves to get to her. I returned my limited circular vision to my target’s face and I could have sworn there was drool coming out of his mouth. He was giddy. He was laughing. And he was not looking at Windy’s face. His eyes were glued to her chest.

  Men.

  He paid for his coffee and Windy did a little boob wiggle that sent him into a fit of giggles as he stumbled out the door like a drunk.

  What the hell?

  He staggered toward the minivan and bumped into a couple guys out on the town. I could hear the commotion even as traffic passed between us.

  “Get off me, you stupid drunk.”

  Joe stumbled away laughing and practically falling over by the time he reached his car. Wow, I’d been following at a distance and he’d obviously been drinking the entire time. Not once had I noticed his level of intoxication. But there was no way I was going to let him drive. I started my car and quickly made my way across the street.

  Joe stood at the side of his van, his key attempting to find the door lock when I pulled up next to him. Swaying back and forth, he giggled to himself as he leaned his head against the window for balance. It would have been funny, if he wasn’t so pathetic. My gut clenched with anger. Anger at him and anger at myself for missing the obvious.

  “Joe,” I said through my open passenger window.

  His head lifted and he stared into the window of his own van, like the person talking to him was inside.

  “Joe,” I repeated.

  In slow motion he turned, keys in one hand, coffee in the other. His feet twisted awkwardly with alcohol-induced poor motor skills. It was like watching a tree fall in the woods. Would anyone hear it?

  Timber…

  He went down hard. A solid thud. No bounce. But it was followed by a splash of liquid and a bellow from another customer walking toward the store. I unbuckled and climbed across gearshift to the passenger side and looked out the window. Joe was on the ground looking confused, his eyes crossed, as the large man who got bathed in his coffee closed the gap between them, barking obscenities like a junkyard dog. The guy appeared rabid as he stopped and stared down at Joe.

  “GRRRR…” he growled.

  Afraid I’d see my second dead body, I interrupted from inside my car. “Ah…I’m really sorry, mister. My brother…is really upset. He’s…” What the hell was he doing? “….He’s going through a divorce.”

  Mad Dog was now looking at me as if he was going to eat me alive. I hopped out of my car anyway. His chest heaved, his jaw clenched and the tendons in his neck bulged. I swallowed, the dread of confrontation rising in my throat.

  “Can I pay for your dry cleaning bill?” I noticed his clothing too late. They were covered with paint splatter. He wasn’t really the dry cleaning type. “Or maybe I could buy you a six pack of Kona Big Wave?”

  That got his attention. Beer always grabbed a man’s attention. His breathing slowed as he wrung out the side of his t-shirt and looked me up and down.

  “You going to drink it
with me, sistah?” He leered.

  “Ah…no, sorry.” Looking for an excuse, I pointed at Joe. “I need to get my brother home.”

  The guy’s leering started giving me the creeps. He stared at everything but my face.

  “If there’s no entertainment with the beer, you’ll have to buy me two six packs.”

  Since when did women turn into entertainment for men? I was about ready to give him a piece of my mind when Joe suddenly saw humor in our situation. He pointed at the ‘wet dog’ and laughed hysterically.

  Like an annoying parrot, he wouldn’t shut up. His laughter became so unbearable, he had to stop pointing and hold his stomach. It had a nice effect on Mad Dog. His scowl was beyond rabid when he reached down and yanked Joe up by the front of his shirt.

  My hands tingled. Adrenaline flowed through my system, begging to be used. Every muscle in my body screamed, fight! fight! fight! I’d never been in a real altercation, the whole day was turning into a bunch of firsts to be marked off my list of experiences. Sizing up my target, I wasn’t sure who was drooling more, Mad Dog or Joe. Joe’s face had the look of a goofy, happy, harmless drunk. Mad Dog, on the other hand, just looked uncontrollably violent. He was ready to swing at anything and everything and if I didn’t stop him now…

  Run!

  That same strange male voice was back inside my head, warning me of the danger I faced. I gulped down my fear and ignored it, then tapped on Mad Dog’s shoulder.

  Luckily, I grew up in a house full of testosterone, because when Mad Dog whipped around with Joe still in his clutches, his body dangling like a wet noodle, I was ready for anything. I dodged Joe’s flapping legs easily.

  “Grrrrrr…” Mad Dog growled again.

  “I’m really sorry, brah. He’s drunk and doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing.” I tried to reason with him while attempting to position myself.

  Mad Dog looked at me, then at Joe, then back to me.

  “You don’t look like his sistah,” he sneered.

  “Yeah, we got different dads. I’d like to say he wasn’t my brother, but my mom really wouldn’t like that.”