Dead On Arrival (A Malia Fern Mystery)

by Kym Roberts

  “It’s Chun. Kāne’s with me.”

  “Biagio?” I craned my neck to see the uniform behind me on the passenger side, and then rolled down my window.

  “Mal, what’s going on?” Kāne asked.

  “Thank God, you’re here.” Now we could look for Pai and Windy with three guns.

  “You okay?”

  Makaio interrupted, opening his door and addressing Kāne over the roof of my car. “She’s not doing very well right now, since she just witnessed a murder and the murderer is still on the loose. Are you ready to go make an arrest or do you want to sit here and chit chat?”

  He sounded pissed off, and I wondered if that was his way of getting into combat mode. Kāne opened my door and I exited the car, ready to show them where the body was located.

  Chun asked for the description of the suspect and what weapons they were facing. I told him it was Windy and I wasn’t sure what she was armed with.

  “Windy?” Kāne’s voice was laced with disbelief.

  I remembered he and Windy dated in high school, right before she dumped him for the quarterback.

  “I know she eats up men and swallows them whole, but beheading? That doesn’t sound like her,” Kāne argued.

  “Stay here. Keep the car running, the windows up and the doors locked,” Makaio ordered. “We’ll be back in a minute.” He was ready to lead an army into battle if need be.

  But I wasn’t staying in my car. “Makaio—”

  He grabbed my shoulders and guided me toward the driver’s door. “No arguments. This is police business. You can use my phone and call Pai, find out where he’s at. We’ll be right back.” He leaned in further, kissed my nose and pushed me in the driver’s seat.

  I watched Chun call something in on his walkie-talkie and a tone echoed from the two radios. With Makaio in the lead, the three of them disappeared over the wall, while I sat in the car and waited. Like a girl.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I was wringing my hands like a sissy and the cowgirl hula dancer sign was really beginning to annoy me in front of Pearl’s donut shop. It was just wrong, offensive even. Islanders don’t wear cowboy hats or boots while dancing. Hula isn’t a nightclub move, it’s a celebration of life, spoken through the movements of every part of the body, not just the hips.

  Sitting and waiting sucked. I wanted to be in there with the guys. I wanted to nail Windy’s ass to the ground and prove I had a backbone. This whole case had me so jumpy I didn’t understand myself. Makaio still wasn’t back. Pai wasn’t answering his phone. And the street was just as boring as it had been before Windy killed the guard.

  Another car approached from behind. I could see the headlights shining through the windshield of the police car parked directly behind me.

  Hua.

  I slunk down in the front seat, grabbed my baton from the passenger side, and watched the vehicle approach from my side rearview mirrors. The lights extinguished before the vehicle pulled up in line and parked behind the police car. I prayed it was another officer and not Windy’s accomplice. I put my hand on the key in the ignition, ready to make a run for it and decided next time I’d have more than my baton to protect myself.

  Staring hard at the vehicle, I finally made out the shape of the car. A police car with no emergency light bar, which meant it was a detective.

  My brother, thank God.

  I jumped out of the car about the same time he exited his vehicle, which in hindsight might not have been the smartest move. Especially, since he was looking toward the condos. He spun around, pulling his gun from his holster and I nearly peed my pants.

  News headlines flashed in my head. “Local Surfer Gunned Down by Police.” Or “Local Surfer Dies by Her Brother’s Hands in The Garden of the Gods.” My favorite was, “Woman Shot by Police After She Peed Her Pants.”

  “Geez, Malia. Do you really think it’s smart to jump out at a cop when you call him to the scene of a headless dead guy?”

  “Sorry.” I was so glad to see him, I didn’t care that he was mad.

  John re-holstered his .40 caliber pistol and met me halfway. This time, he hugged and comforted his little sister, who had seen too much. And as much as I hate to admit it, I let him.

  We got in his car and John wasn’t looking at my face, but my hair.

  “Rough night?”

  I couldn’t tell if he was making fun of my appearance or if he was being sympathetic. It really had been a bad night. I ran a hand through my hair, coming up with several leaves, probably off the fern forest I’d been hiding in, and wondered if that’s where my relatives got the last name Fern.

  Maybe they were like me. Always running through the forests in a panicked state and ending up with leaves sticking out of their hair.

  “It’s been the worst kind of night, ever,” I confessed.

  “Tell me what happened while we wait for them to clear the area,” John replied in a voice I knew he used on other victims and witnesses.

  “Are they okay?” I bit my lip, afraid the night would get worse.

  “I’m sure they are. It just takes some time to secure the scene.” Again, his voice held the strong smooth resonance of a detective in charge.

  I nodded. I knew it would take a while. It just seemed to be taking forever. I began with why I was there and how Pai had hired me. I told him I thought a car had entered the gate and I assumed it was Pai, but he wasn’t answering his phone.

  The furrows in John’s face deepened. I told him how Windy had driven up during my shift and pointed to her car parked down the street. During my description, I struggled with the decapitation part, my hands twisting together, again. John gripped my hands and squeezed, his compassion getting me through the worst of it. I finished the story with my mad dash through the forest, losing my shoe and running into Makaio. John took notes during my tale and added touches of brotherly support throughout. It made me feel like maybe we’d crossed a line between childhood and adulthood.

  Then a voice came over the radio. “332, clear the air. Can you start an ambulance for an unconscious male about thirty-five.”

  Dispatch responded there was an ambulance in route and I noticed John frowning again as he closed his notebook.

  “Was that Kāne?”

  John held up a ‘hold that thought’ finger, as he picked up his radio mic and called the officer. “1060 to 332.”

  “Go ahead, 1060.”

  “Do you have a crime scene for the Adult Crimes Unit to respond to?”

  “Not unless you guys have taken on public intoxication.” I could hear the laughter in Biagio’s voice.

  “10-4,” John turned to me, really unhappy at this point. “Malia, is this some kind of joke? Cause if it is, I’m not laughing.”

  “What? John I didn’t just go through hell to punk you. There’s a man out there without a head. I heard Windy chop off his head.”

  “The man’s just unconscious, Mal. Like I should be. At home. In my bed. But instead, I’m out here with you.” The way he said you made me feel like the bothersome little sister again. He paused his chiding, ran his hand through his hair and turned toward me with a somber look. “Maybe dismembering that guy has messed with your head.”

  My breath caught. My indignation soared. I was beyond tired, yes, but I knew what I saw. “My head is not messed up! And I did not dismember anyone, Windy did!”

  I couldn’t fathom his lack of faith in me, let alone that he thought I was going crazy. He asked me for help. Yeah, I was determined to solve Peter Johnson’s homicide, but I wasn’t even sure it was a homicide any more. My gut said it was. Peter, or some imaginary voice in my head said it was. Everything else said it wasn’t. I swallowed my pride for a moment and thought about the situation.

  One burning question remained, “Where’s Windy?”

  “Are you sure it was Windy?”

  Irritated, I pointed at her car parked down the street.

  “Maybe she met someone for a boat ride from the dock.” John suggest
ed.

  My response was interrupted by Kāne’s voice on the radio ordering an ambulance for an unconscious man. John went back to his notebook, an uncomfortable silence easing its way into the car. But that didn’t mean it was the guard I’d been watching. It could be the guy in the car. The one who drove inside the gate after I followed Windy and the guard into the garden. He was the only other one who was there.

  “John, it has to be the guy who drove inside the gate.” I began to fear what I had just said. “Oh, God. Is it Pai? Is Pai hurt?”

  John was no longer looking at me. He was looking down the street. I gazed down the street wondering why something other than my concern for Pai caught his attention.

  Then I spotted her. Windy wiggled and jiggled her way down the middle of the street, heels dangling from her fingertips. With her back to us, she rearranged her skirt to cover her ass.

  The spawn from hell looked like she was just out for a leisurely stroll, if you believed hookers took innocent strolls at four am. It was exactly what I’d expect from the evil progeny of the devil. She was intermingling in the life of normal people, posing as innocent members of our society.

  Windy hadn’t been innocent since she was ten, and this was worse than just bullying and sexual promiscuity. This was murder.

  “Get her! She murdered that guard!” I ordered.

  John looked at me and sighed. He didn’t know what to think. He reluctantly put down his notebook and got out of his car.

  A few moments later, I was looking at Windy leaning over the front hood of the unmarked police car — where I sat uncomfortably in the passenger seat. The view of her cleavage was even more offensive with the knowledge that she cozied up to a dead guy. Her fingers wiggled on the hood, like she couldn’t wait to get her maniacal claws in my flesh. I gulped and convinced myself that she was no threat with her hands spread across the hood. Her legs were extended even wider — much to John’s irritation. He hadn’t put her in that position, she had. Still, she glared at me through the windshield.

  Her evil eye had never bothered me until tonight. Regrettably, I was out of strength to play her game of eye contact chicken. I lost miserably.

  I told myself it was out of a bizarre fascination with how her tattooed boobs hung so low they touched the hood of the car. Her hair was wet and the front of her tube top clung to wet breasts. The garment was nothing but an ineffectual bustier. Her nipples stood out not just like headlights, but like those huge searchlights that dark city uses to call its super hero into action.

  Did men really like all that?

  John didn’t seem too mesmerized after his initial, ‘How the hell do I search those?’ look. Now, he was telling her to turn around and lean against the car. He talked into his handheld radio for a moment, and then with a hand signal, which looked like one of those you give a dog to ‘stay,’ he told her not to move. An ambulance pulled up and John directed the paramedics to the construction site’s front gate before he came back and got into the driver’s seat.

  “Makaio’s fine. They haven’t found a car or anyone else. Just the unconscious guard. Other than trespass, I don’t have any reason to detain her, Mal.” Windy’s butt flared across the hood of his car like a hoagie bun full of spam.

  “But she took off that man’s head!” I couldn’t believe he was going to let her go. If she were released, she’d come over to my place and chop my head off during my sleep. I had no doubt I would be missing an appendage I valued very much if she walked.

  “There’s no blood on the front of her.”

  “Duh. She’s all wet. Obviously, she went for a swim after I saw her. Swab her hands, collect her clothes, and get the lab to look for DNA.” I insisted.

  John just looked at me. We stared at each other for several seconds. He didn’t know what to do with me, and I was angry he wasn’t going to arrest a cold-blooded killer.

  This time, I won the battle of chicken. (I secretly think it was because he let me.)

  He grabbed his radio mike and called Kāne. “1060 to 332. Do you have the identity of your victim?”

  “Affirmative. James Kamakau. He’s a guard with Lincoln Securities. The ambulance is leaving with him now. We’ll be out in a minute.”

  “10-4.”

  Message received. Loud and clear. The guard I’d been watching...the man I’d seen dead without a head…was very much alive. John looked at me with sympathy and I pondered my mental health.

  “Come on, I’ll stop the ambulance, and you can tell me if it’s the same guy.”

  I nodded in agreement and got out of the car in a state of shock. It was the second time that night my brain was so full, it was blank.

  “Johnny, baby, can I go now?” Windy’s sugary sweet voice caused my stomach to roll. She sickened me, and made me want to barf in her face, but I no longer felt like we were on an equal playing field. It was as if she suddenly had some secret powers that caused me to quake in my shoes. Or rather, shoe, since my left sandal was lost in the forest of tall bamboo across the street.

  “Wait here a minute, Windy. We’ll be right back.”

  “Okay, Johnny baby.”

  I could tell John wasn’t happy with that nickname. I imagined a detective sergeant wouldn’t want the other cops, or citizens hearing her use the term either. Then I wondered if he and Windy had a past together. The thought sent a shiver up my spine. I really didn’t like the thought of my brother being with such a skank. A murdering skank at that.

  I went around the rear of the car to avoid being too close to her and ignored her smirk. The ambulance pulled up to the front entrance. John motioned for the driver to stop and spoke to him for a minute before heading to the back door and opened it. He indicated for me to follow him.

  My feet suddenly felt heavy. I was so tired and confused. Anxious to prove their patient wasn’t the decapitated guard, but reluctant to see living proof that I’d officially lost my mind. I certainly didn’t want the guy to be dead, but … hua.

  I took a deep breath and stepped into the back of the ambulance as John held my elbow to assist me up.

  I looked at the guard in front of me, with the familiar uniform. He had the same shoes. The same pants…and shirt. The same muscular form. Same short stature. The same disproportionately large ears attached to …the same small head. It was all connected to make a very much alive and intact guard. The one I’d watched all night. She hadn’t chopped it off. Energizer Bunny guard, James Kamakau was lying in front of me completely intact. I watched him struggling to focus on the paramedic who had hooked him up to an IV. The paramedic brought out one of those lights doctors use to look in your eyes, ears, nose and mouth and as soon as the light hit James’ eye, he shook his head. Blinking several times, and suddenly seemed more alert.

  “What happened?” He sputtered.

  “Just relax, you’re in an ambulance. We’re taking you to the hospital.” The paramedic continued examining his other eye. As the beam hit James’ second eye, a light bulb seemed to turn on in his brain. His very much alive and active brain.

  “I remember. She came up and…”

  I waited for him to finish, but got nothing. He stopped mid-thought.

  “What?” I demanded. I can’t stand unfinished sentences. They’re torture. Movies that leave unsaid words on the tips of the lips of dying loved ones, drive me nuts.

  Kamakau looked at me, trying to figure out who I was and why I was there. I didn’t give him the chance.

  “She came up and did what?” I asked, trying to soften my demand a little bit.

  His eyes never left mine, almost as if he was too scared to look anywhere else.

  “The curse of the Menehune,” he whispered.

  “The curse of the Menehune?” Oh, please. Not this crap again. Was he seriously going to waste my time? I wanted to scream, ‘No! What did Windy do to you?’ Instead I just looked at him, waiting for an explanation.

  “She knows it. If she spreads the knowledge, we’re all doomed. We’ll have to l
eave.”

  “What are you talking about it?” I resisted the urge to shake him mercilessly and waited patiently. That is, if you consider tapping my foot with my arms folded across my chest and a scowl on my face as a picture of patience.

  Kamakau looked away, his eyes leaving mine and focusing on absolutely nothing.

  “Miss, you’ll have to leave now.” The paramedic was looking at me with a ‘Hello lady, sick man here that needs to go to the hospital’ expression on his face. I nodded and jumped out of the ambulance, where John waited for me.

  “Is that the guard you were watching?”

  I nodded but refused to establish eye contact.

  “Did he say what happened to him?”

  I responded with a silent shake of my head. I’d already made a big enough fool out of myself, I wasn’t about to start talking about a stupid curse.

  John closed the door, patted the side of the ambulance with an open palm and we watched it drive down the street. I couldn’t look at him. I just stood there, holding my arms tightly across my chest. He placed his hand on my back and leaned in to whisper to me.

  “I’ll be right back, okay?”

  I nodded and watched him approach Windy. Her body posture suddenly changed. She went from slouching against the police car with her arms crossed, to standing with her hands on her hips, chest thrust forward and one foot out as if she was pulling up her skirt to hitch a ride at the side of the road. No one really did that, did they?

  Laughter broke out behind me, and I turned around just in time to see Makaio, Kāne and Chun walk up from around a bend in the drive. The three of them were having a pretty good laugh, probably at my expense, until they saw me. Their faces dropped in an attempt to look professional.

  Makaio either had the most experience, or the most to lose. Only a twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. Kāne almost succeeded as he coughed through his laughter. Chun just plain sucked at it as his shoulders, hunched inward and shook convulsively. He covered his mouth with a hand that wasn’t big enough to contain his laughter.

  Hell would freeze over before I’d go out on a date with that guy.