Murder on Kaanapali Beach

by R. Barri Flowers

  "What do you think?" asked Andrea. "Either one look like a stone cold killer?"

  "Can't say they do," she admitted, knowing that hardly exonerated them. Neither man appeared to be the one in the video who visited Joyce a day before she was killed. This disappointed Leila, but since this unknown man obviously knew the victim, it didn't mean he murdered her.

  On the other hand, here were two viable suspects who had gone out with Joyce. Perhaps, like Glenn Diamont, they had been spurned by her. One or the other might have decided to take things further than sending threatening texts by following Joyce to the beach and suffocating her to death, while trying to pass it off as a zip line strangulation to throw the authorities off.

  Leila eyed the forensic specialist. "Did you find anything else of note?"

  "Well, there were a few heated e-mail exchanges between Joyce and her husband, Verlin Yashiro; as well as with the son, Ayato. None were a smoking gun, so to speak, but clearly indicate the dysfunctional nature of that family."

  "Send those to me and I'll take a look," Leila said, wanting to leave no stones unturned in the search for a killer—or anyone who may have been pulling his string. But for the moment, the hunt had shifted from the Yashiros to two men Joyce had met online—either of whom could have become her worst nightmare.

  * * *

  "What's all this?" Leila asked when she stepped into the kitchen. Her mother was standing over the counter and there were various dishes laid out.

  Rena smiled. "What does it look like—it's dinner. I used the money you left me to pick up a few things. I thought I would cook you a real Hawaiian meal."

  Though she was admittedly starving, and happy that she had spent the money, Leila still said: "You didn't have to do that."

  "I wanted to," Rena told her. "You're my keiki. Clearly, based on what was in your refrigerator and cabinets, cooking hasn't been a priority for you these days."

  Sadly, Leila had to concede that was true. Ever since she had put her cooking skills to the test when dating Blake Seymour months ago, she hadn't had much incentive to spend time in the kitchen just for herself. But was that a bad thing? Or merely a sign of the times for a single, unattached woman—especially one who happened to be a homicide detective, where quick meals were an essential part of the job.

  "You're right," she told her mother. "I don't have the time to devote to cooking for myself."

  Rena batted her lashes. "I can see that. Maybe you need to rethink that. If you're only skin and bones, you won't last very long on the job. Or even when you finally meet the man who may want to take you away from what you're doing."

  Leila took a deep breath. Her mother had made it clear that she didn't approve of her career in law enforcement—never mind the fact that she was following in the footsteps of her father and grandfather. But she had begrudgingly accepted it, acknowledging that her mother's stubborn streak nearly matched her own.

  And Leila didn't want to disappoint on that score. "No one's going to take me away from what I love, Mom—not even the man of my dreams. As for me being skin and bones, I'm in pretty good shape—or close to my ideal weight—and more than able to hold my own with my heavier colleagues."

  "I get it," Rena said, stirring something on the stove. "I don't mean to meddle."

  Oh yes you do, mused Leila, and I have to accept it and not try to change you, any more than I want you to change me.

  "You're fine, Mom," she told her. "We're fine."

  Rena grinned. "Mahalo."

  "So what's for dinner?"

  "Come and see for yourself..."

  Leila stepped forward and saw succulent roast pork, poi—a staple of Hawaiian culture made of taro and water, seasoned with soy sauce—baked mahi mahi, squid covered with luau leaves, baked sweet potatoes, papaya slices, and coconut bread.

  "Wow, you've been busy," she said, impressed but not surprised. After all, she had grown up with a mother who spent much of her time in the kitchen, feeding a hungry husband, and often several other family members.

  "I didn't have anything better to do," voiced Rena. "Besides, it's nice to be home again."

  "Can I help with anything?" Leila wanted to feel that she was carrying her own weight here, even if she knew her mother was truly in her element.

  "Of course. You can get out the glasses for the guava juice."

  Leila smiled. "That I can do."

  She washed up and went even further by setting the dining room table and bringing the food out. They ate together like old times and kept the conversation pleasant. Leila even found herself wondering if her mother should move back to Maui so they could be closer to one another.

  But she realized that was probably not a good idea. For one, Rena had built a life for herself on the Big Island, with many relatives and friends there to keep her busy. Leila also had her own life to live—one in which she and her mother didn't always see eye to eye. Why rock the cradle?

  The next morning, she took Rena to the airport and Leila promised to visit her the next time. Now she just had to find an opening in her life to get away.

  For the moment, that wasn't happening with two murder cases on her docket—the most immediate being the suffocation death of Joyce Yashiro, with her killer yet to be apprehended. But maybe that was close to changing.

  * * *

  Inside the Kahului club, Chung spotted the attractive Asian coed he'd seen in Glenn Diamont's office. She was sitting at the bar all by her lonesome. That worked for him.

  "Aloha," he said in a friendly voice.

  She looked up at him. "Do I know you?"

  It kind of hurt his feelings that she didn't recognize him from earlier in the day. On the other hand, it was best she not associate him with that asshole Diamont and the fact that they were questioning him about a homicide.

  "Now's a good time to start," Chung said, flashing his teeth. "I'm Jonny."

  She gave a hint of a smile. "Shannon."

  "So what's up, Shannon?"

  She pouted. "I think I've been stood up."

  "What idiot would ever stand up someone as hot as you?" he asked seriously.

  "The type of idiot who's more into himself," she moaned.

  "Well his loss can be my gain." Chung sat down beside her. "Let me buy you a drink."

  Shannon stared at the thought before saying: "Sure, why not. I'll have a Li Hing Mui Rita."

  "Cool." He grinned, passing on the margarita himself in favor of a 1944 Mai Tai Original. After ordering, he eyed Shannon and fantasized about getting her into bed. But before he could turn that into reality, he had to go through the motions. "So tell me about yourself..." he said routinely.

  She regarded him coquettishly. "What do you want to know?"

  He thought: Where do I start to get to the finish?

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The next day, Leila and Chung went to the home of Lawrence Kobayashi on Liholani Street in Pukalani, an area of the island known by locals as Upcountry for its location on the fertile slopes of Mount Haleakala. A black Mercedes was parked in the driveway.

  "Looks like he's home," Chung said, ringing the bell.

  Leila thought she saw someone peeking through the wooden mini blinds. "I believe he is."

  Momentarily, the door opened. A man stood there. He was tall and trim with short black hair, and pretty much looked like the photograph they had retrieved from Joyce Yashiro's computer.

  "Lawrence Kobayashi?" she asked as a formality.

  He nodded. "Yes."

  She flashed her identification. "Detective Sergeant Kahana with the police department." She listened as Chung identified himself before continuing. "We're looking into the murder of Joyce Yashiro."

  Kobayashi reacted. "I heard about that and figured you would probably come to see me sooner or later, but I'm afraid you've wasted your time."

  "We'll see about that," she told him. "Mind if we come in?"

  He hesitated, and then said: "Not at all."

  They stepped inside a spacious,
well-furnished living room. Leila pictured Joyce visiting there, perhaps finding out that she had bitten off more than she could chew, and angering him to the point of murder.

  "We understand that you met Joyce Yashiro through an online dating service called Maui Hot Dates," Leila said.

  "That's right. We seemed to connect online and agreed to go on a date," he said. "We went to a public place—a restaurant in Lahaina. Unfortunately, it wasn't a match made in heaven and we both knew it. So we said our goodbyes there and I never saw her again in person."

  "Are you sure about that?" Chung asked tersely.

  "Positive."

  Chung wasn't convinced. "Maybe you decided that because it was more like a match made in hell, you would kill her for your trouble."

  Kobayashi narrowed his eyes. "That's ridiculous. I didn't have any reason to kill Joyce. We didn't part on bad terms or anything. It just wasn't exactly what either of us had hoped for. But hey, it happens. I got over it and met someone else. You've come to the wrong man."

  "Can you tell us where you were the morning Joyce Yashiro died?" Leila asked him, adding: "Between five and six a.m."

  "I was with my new girlfriend," he responded calmly. "We've been spending most nights together at her place or mine."

  "Right," Leila said, glancing at Chung. "What's her name?"

  "Lynda Pestana."

  "Where can we find her?" Chung asked.

  "At work. She's a gynecologist at the Maui Medical Center."

  * * *

  After Doctor Pestana supported Lawrence Kobayashi's contention that they were together when Joyce Yashiro was murdered, Leila crossed him off the list as the killer, having no reason to believe otherwise.

  She was hoping they'd have better luck when visiting Rick Keebler, the other person from the dating service Joyce went out with. While Chung went to Keebler's residence in Lahaina, Leila headed to a building he was said to be inspecting in Wailuku, as an employee of the County of Maui.

  When she arrived, Leila asked another worker if Keebler was there, which he confirmed. She was directed to a third story, where she recognized him at the end of a hall. He was tall, solidly built, and wearing a hard hat while talking to a female worker.

  Nowhere to run or hide if you're guilty of murder, Leila thought as she approached them.

  "Excuse me," he said to the woman and took a couple of steps toward Leila. "Can I help you?"

  "Are you Rick Keebler?"

  "Yeah, who are you?"

  "Detective Sergeant Kahana, Maui PD." She showed her badge. "I need to talk to you about Joyce Yashiro..."

  He glanced back at the other woman, who seemed oblivious to the conversation. "Okay, let's go over here to talk—"

  Leila followed him, watching carefully, as they headed down the hallway, stopping near a room.

  Keebler faced her. "I heard someone killed her, but it wasn't me."

  Nothing like being proactive, she mused. That didn't mean he was innocent. "Why don't you tell me about your relationship with her and we'll go from there," Leila told him.

  He took his hard hat off and held it. "Not much to tell, really. We met through an online dating site, which I'm sure you already know, went out on two dates, had sex once, and went our separate ways. I got back together with my ex-wife when we realized we had something worth saving. We plan to get married again."

  "That's great," Leila said, assuming he was telling the truth. "But I still need to know your whereabouts on the day Joyce was murdered."

  "I was in on Kauai in Poipu for the entire week, testing electrical installations and codes for a new condominium complex," Keebler said coolly. "I do some freelance work apart from working for Maui County. You can check it out."

  "I will." Leila met his eyes. "Do you know of anyone else Joyce Yashiro dated from Maui Hot Dates?"

  He rubbed his chin. "Wish I could help you out there, but we never talked about other people we dated. It would kind of kill the mood, if you know what I mean."

  Leila knew all too well, but she wasn't about to go there. After getting some information from Keebler to verify his alibi, she let him get back to work, believing he wasn't the man they were after.

  It also meant that Joyce Yashiro's killer was likely still hiding in plain sight and a potential threat to hurt someone else.

  * * *

  Renee Bradley had taken the lead Detective Jonny Chung had given her and run with it. He had told her that he believed Joyce Yashiro's killer could be a member of the popular dating site, Maui Hot Dates. Though apparently two men she dated had fallen off their list of suspects, it didn't faze Renee. With all the creeps out there, even on Maui, it wouldn't surprise her at all if one of them using the dating site turned out to be a killer.

  With that in mind, she had been able to track down the owner of the site, a woman named Bette Shishido. Renee waited for her to come out of the office building on Walaka Street in Kihei before approaching her.

  "Bette Shishido," she called out to the shorter woman in her thirties with shoulder length black hair.

  She stopped, facing Renee. "Yes."

  "I'm Renee Bradley, a journalist. I wonder if I could ask you a few questions."

  "You can make an appointment with my secretary."

  Renee was not about to be deterred now. "This won't take long. Were you aware that two members of your dating service have been investigated as possible killers in the murder of a local woman named Joyce Yashiro, who also used the service?"

  Bette arched a brow. "No, I wasn't aware of that. Even so, we assume no liability for what goes on between consenting adults who passed our criminal background check."

  "But aren't you still ultimately responsible if one of your members harms another?" Renee pressed.

  Bette sighed. "If the police would like to question me, they're welcome to. We run a reputable service. Now if you'll excuse me..."

  "Would you be willing to provide to the press a list of all the men who either dated Joyce Yashiro or wanted to and were maybe turned down?"

  Bette's nostrils flared. "Absolutely not! That's privileged information. I'm very sorry about what happened to Joyce. It shouldn't have. But I'm sure none of our members were involved."

  "At least one of them was," Renee pointed out. "Joyce Yashiro."

  Bette glared at her. "You've taken up enough of my time, Ms. Bradley. This conversation is over!"

  "I hope for your sake this doesn't lead right to your front door," Renee called after her as she moved away rapidly. As it was, she had more than enough to write a plausible piece on a possible connection between Joyce's murder and the Maui Hot Dates service.

  * * *

  In the evening, Leila took a break from work to attend the Lahaina Friday Town Party. Occurring every second Friday of the month, it was part of the Maui Friday Town Parties, designed to bring together locals and visitors in a celebration of Maui culture, culinary art, and music. She was there to support her friend Jan Monroe's latest showing of some of her artwork, which included Maui landscapes and seascapes, as well as paintings of Maui exotic flowers and locally grown produce. The paintings were on display inside and outside an art gallery on Front Street.

  "Nice..." Leila marveled, as she studied the amazing artwork.

  Jan frowned. "Only nice? That's the best you can offer?"

  Leila chuckled. "Okay, how about totally fabulous!"

  Beaming, Jan said: "That's more like it."

  "So where is that fiancé of yours?" Leila asked, looking around.

  "Erik is coming later," she explained. "As usual, he's busy with a big real estate deal."

  "Good for him," Leila said sarcastically. She couldn't help herself, wondering just how supportive Erik was for his girlfriend's career.

  Picking up on this, Jan defended him. "Erik loves my art and has actually purchased several pieces to place in homes, increasing their value. If you stick around for a while, he can tell you all about it."

  Leila suddenly felt that she may have
overreacted. Or maybe she was projecting her own aloneness on her friend. Either way, as long as Jan believed she had met the man of her dreams, who was she to suggest otherwise?

  Jan cupped her arm beneath Leila's and guided her into the gallery. "Come and see what else I've put together—"

  Leila was again impressed with her friend's talent and the impressive display. She wondered if she should have developed her own art skills beyond composite sketches of criminal suspects and the occasional painting of inanimate objects.

  "I'm so jealous," she confessed.

  "Don't be," Jan said, smiling at her. "You're doing something good."

  "You think?" Leila sneered. "Sometimes I wonder just how much of a difference I'm making in chasing criminals."

  "Every little bit counts to keep the island of Maui safe," said Jan. "I feel safer just knowing someone I trust is doing just that."

  Leila couldn't help but grin. "Mahalo."

  "Besides, there's always room in the art community here if you decide you want an early retirement from law enforcement," Jan told her.

  Leila smiled, taking the hint. Maybe she would hang it up sooner than later before she was put out to pasture like some former cops she knew. For now, she was where she needed to be, for better or worse.

  As Jan went off to talk to the gallery owner and others, Leila walked around on her own, enjoying the artwork of her amazing friend. She had just settled in on a painting of the Maalaea Harbor, on Maui's southern coast, when she heard the familiar voice say: "I find that one captivating too—"

  Looking over her shoulder, Leila recognized the good looking owner of the Japanese restaurant, Island House. Only she couldn't recall his name...

  "Maxwell Kishimoto," he said. "We met at—"

  "Your restaurant," she broke in.

  He grinned. "So you do remember?"

  "How could I not? The apple pie and mint chocolate chip martini you brought to our table were incredible."

  "I'm so glad you were pleased." He planted his dark eyes on her. "And your name is...?"

  "Leila," she said simply, wondering why she was so giddy.

  "Nice to meet you, Leila." He stuck out his hand she shook it.

  "You too."