ABOUT THE BOOK
Maui Murders takes place on the North Shore of Maui in the city of Paia. The area is known as the windsurfing capital of the world. The main characters are two “youthful” senior couples; a brilliant man in his midtwenties trying to escape the daunting responsibility of heading up a leading video game company; a lonely, beautiful woman in her midtwenties mourning the loss of her baby and living through an unhappy marriage; a charming ninety-something Chinese gentleman who walks daily throughout the city, greeting his many friends and having his coveted daily fi x of fried foods; the sheriff, a retired lawman from Alaska who yearns to be warm and return to his chosen field. Plus an array of memorable characters all shattered by the devastation of Maui Murders.
Maui Murders
A Novel
Kathy Callahan
Copyright © 2017 by Kathy Callahan.
Library of Congress Control Number:
2017913847
ISBN:
Hardcover
978-1-5434-5023-1
Softcover
978-1-5434-5022-4
eBook
978-1-5434-5021-7
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
Rev. date: 03/19/2018
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CONTENTS
About the Book
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Epilogue
AUTHOR’S NOTE
With full intent, the government structure for the City of Paia and the County of Maui was changed. Also knowingly altered was the makeup of the police force for the City of Paia, the County of Maui, and the State of Hawaii. (Actually, there is no State of Hawaii Police Force. Five O is fictional, like this book.)
CHAPTER 1
Donald Munson and Warren Knudson made an agreement one bitter cold Milwaukee morning as they rolled papers for their daily paper routes. They would work hard, do all types of odd jobs, save their money, and as soon as they graduated from high school, before college, they would spend two weeks in the warmth of a tropical island. It was a dream not many thirteen-year-olds would keep, but Donald and Warren were stubborn. In January of their senior year, Donald was a weekly customer at Robert’s Travel Agency to see if any new brochures on summer bargains had arrived.
In March, Robert told them about a two-island special to Oahu and Maui, Hawaii, but they would have to book and pay half the down payment by the end of the month. Donald was speechless; he figured they would be headed to the Caribbean, but Hawaii—such a marvelous, faraway place! He hurried to Warren’s home with brochures and details. Both boys rushed to withdraw the required amount from their savings accounts, and then they headed to Roberts Travel; their boyhood dream was headed toward reality.
In Maui, the day before their vacation ended, they took a drive to Paia (Pah-ee-ah) because a local told them it was worth a visit to see the windsurfers. He told them, once there, to ask where Ho’okipa Beach was so they can see the surfers. They figured it wouldn’t cost them anything but gas money; besides, windsurfing sounded like fun. They found themselves in the funky old-fashioned town of Paia. They got directions to Ho’okipa Beach, and what they saw awed them; out in the ocean, behind huge breaking waves, were surfers on surfboards fitted with some type of metalwork and sails. Riding the waves, their sails caught the wind and soared into the air, as a bird would catch an updraft. Donald and Warren knew this was not a sport for them, but they stayed on the beach most of the day, watching the bird people in flight.
Back at their motel, Donald announced he was not going back with Warren. He would find a summer job and stay in Maui until it was time for him to return to the mainland and start college. Warren reluctantly returned to Milwaukee; his summer job was in his father’s hardware store, and there was no escape for him.
For the first time in Donald’s life, he felt warm; although his pale pinkish complexion seemed to have a permanent slightly red
, sunburned hue, he didn’t care. When it was time to return for college, he couldn’t leave; instead, he enrolled at the University of Hawaii, majoring in business. He shared a two-bedroom apartment in the low-rent part of Oahu and worked weekends and after school as a desk clerk at a motel. Becoming more experienced, he was able to upgrade to better motels/hotels and, in his junior year of college, was promoted to the billing and collections section of a high-end hotel. His cherub face, liquid blue eyes, and gentle manner served him well in a job that could leave customers with a hostel impression of their expensive vacation lodgings.
After graduating, Donald began looking for work that would pay him enough to have his own apartment, buy a couple of proper suits, and make a down payment on a good used car. One day, while checking the want ads, he saw an opening in Maui, in Paia of all places. Donald had never forgotten his fascination with that city and decided to phone and request an interview. He spoke directly with the bank manager who said he didn’t want to have him pay for a flight to Maui, so he would mail him an application, and they would go from there. When Mr. Newhouse, the bank manager, received the application and saw Donald’s impressive background, he phoned him, and they arranged an interview. No other applicant’s resume was as impressive as Donald’s; Mr. Newhouse had found his new assistant bank manager.
When Donald saw the tiny bank, his heart sank. Nevertheless, he entered and greeted Mr. Newhouse in his usual courteous manner. Mr. Newhouse explained there was one full-time teller and a part-time teller. The assistant manager would handle all new accounts, fill in breaks and lunch at the window, and assist wherever needed. Mr. Newhouse was in charge of all loans and would train Donald in that aspect. Mr. Newhouse told Donald that he planned on retiring in the next three years, and he felt Donald would be an excellent replacement choice with the proper training. The salary was less than what he expected, but rents were lower than in Oahu, and Donald liked the old-fashioned feel of Paia.
Three weeks later, Donald arrived at his new job. Mr. Newhouse found a reasonable apartment for him to look at during his lunch break. It was a small furnished bachelor pad, just what Donald wanted. Plus, it was only three blocks to the bank and close to a market. Donald shipped everything except his clothes and personal items and, luckily, found a couple of cheap places to eat until his pots and pans arrived. After his first week on the job, Donald knew he had found the perfect home. The people were friendly, introducing themselves to Donald and welcoming him to their city.
The Monday of Donald’s second week, he heard a happy laugh at the teller’s window and looked up to see a beautiful Hawaiian girl. Donald walked over and introduced himself to MayLee; he was in love. There stood this lovely girl with huge brown eyes, a ready smile, and a laugh that made you want to join in on the joke. They were married six months later.
CHAPTER 2
The county sheriff had a substation located in Paia, the last town on the road to Hana. The station had two full-time employees: Deputy Danny Kino, a local Paia man, and nonsworn dispatcher/secretary, Charlene Griffin. Deputy Kino was well-liked by everyone and intolerant of illegal marijuana growing and its trafficking that was becoming too frequent in the area. Charlene ran the substation with an iron fist. Truant youngsters were often sent to assist Charlene with filing and answering the phones; one day with “Officer” Charlene and they decided never to miss school again. She ran a tight ship; raised by a military family and a young widow of a Vietnam officer, order was her way of life.
Donald Munson made his way to the substation; it was an important day for Donnie, one that would hopefully see his plan to fruition. Since coming to Paia, he and MayLee had three children, and he served in the city council and was now in his second term as mayor. As usual, Donnie gave the job his all; in particular, he was concerned about some of the unsavory elements coming into Paia, and he was afraid there might be more drug trafficking than Deputy Kino could keep up with. He had spoken with the county sheriff on numerous occasions about adding another deputy, but the economy being what it was, that was impossible.
Donnie talked to area merchants, and they too had concerns and were afraid of losing tourist dollars. Donnie had a plan; if he could get thirty to thirty-five of the local merchants to come up with $50 a month, they could hire a retired law enforcement officer to help. First, he would have to convince the sheriff to cover workman’s compensation and provide the officer with an official vehicle. The city owned a small but well-kept trailer that sat on a beautiful spot overlooking the ocean, originally used to house a lifeguard that kept an eye on wayward swimmers. Budget shortfalls eliminated that position. They would offer the new hire a free place to live and a salary between $1,500 and $1,750 per month, which would still enable him to draw his retirement pension, as he would not be working as a sworn law enforcement officer but in a contract position.
After four months of working things out with county officials and plowing through a sea of red tape, Donnie placed an ad in a law enforcement magazine popular with retirees. To his surprise, he received over twenty replies; all, except for the ninety-year-old retiree from Texas who swore he could whip anyone’s ass with or without his teeth in, were carefully considered by the city council and a merchant’s committee. Three applicants were contacted via e-mail and asked several questions the council and committee had put together. Donnie was partial to one applicant, Lester Phillips, who stated one of the reasons he would like to be considered was he wanted to feel warm again.
Donnie understood that sentiment from his own experience. Lester lived in Alaska where he and his late wife retired after he left law enforcement in Nevada. His wife had family in Sitka, and since she and Lester had no children, she longed to be near the grandchildren of her brother. A freak avalanche had taken her life six months ago, and Lester was ready to leave for somewhere he could thaw out, never adjusting to the cold of Alaska.
Donnie e-mailed Lester’s references, and all came back with high regard for his work ethic, his dogged pursuit to the end of a case, and his humanitarian approach to victims. Today Donnie had arranged a personal phone call to Lester’s last superior in Nevada. They had agreed on a specific date and time, so Donnie sat down at the desk behind Charlene and told her, “Let’s make the call, please.”
Charlene dialed the number and connected Donnie to chief of police, Michael Burton.
“Hello, Mayor Munson, how are things in the land of hula dancers?” Chief Burton’s voice boomed over the phone, forcing Donnie to hold it away from his ear.
“Fine, thank you, sir.”
“You want to know what I can tell you about Detective Lester Phillips,” Chief Burton asked.
“Yes, sir, any information will help in our selection.”
Chief Burton cleared his throat and began, “You could hire no one finer. He’s a real hero in this area. Lester Phillips captured that pervert serial killer, Bailey Frye. Did you know that?”
“Really!” Donnie answered, amazed that he had been so lucky to recruit such a renowned candidate. “Please continue,” Donnie said.
“Frye had slain over sixteen people in the tristate area, six in Nevada alone. Two of those six were close personal friends of Lester and his wife. Lester never told me. I heard it after he retired, but he always felt Frye would someday come after him and his missus.
“Lester spent almost three years gathering clues, tracking, and backtracking, trying to get some small inkling who was committing these unthinkable crimes. One day, he stumbled upon a reference made by a recent victim to her neighbor the day before she was slain. She said she ran into this nice man who lived in a trailer park behind one of the casinos, said they had a long conversation at a local Laundromat and he seemed quite surprised that she was a happily married woman. Lester found two trailer parks that were located behind a casino, one in particular was near the Laundromat. He began staking out the location, almost twenty-four hours a day, taking photos of the cars going in and
out. Lester found two residents that did not check out well. One, a teenage druggie, who was lucky he was able to make it home one night a week. The other, a man in his late fifties with no visible means of support who came and went all hours of the day and night. But the most telling aspect of this suspect was the name he used at the trailer park, F. R. Bailey. The name Bailey had come up in three of the other slayings. Lester got a warrant to search his car and trailer. The next day, while his suspect was at the supermarket, Lester opened the trunk of Frye’s car and, under the spare tire, found a roll of masking tape, a long blade knife with what looked like dried blood on it, and a box of latex surgical gloves. Bailey Frye was arrested coming out of the market. The blood on the knife proved to be that of the last victim, and the slayings stopped.”
“I remember that case. It went nationwide, but I don’t remember the name Lester Phillips.”
“Nope,” Chief Burton said. “Lester shunned all publicity, and he asked me to fill in for him whenever possible. I was happy to oblige, naturally, for Lester’s sake.”
“Chief, whatever happened to Bailey Frye?”
“Some damned liberal judge sentenced him to the local mental hospital,” Chief Burton said with disgust. “But Frye finally got what was due him, courtesy of another inmate. About four months after Frye’s arrival, a delivery was being made of laughing gas to the dentistry when the deliveryman was attacked near the kitchen. This other crazy pushed the deliveryman into the kitchen area, where several kettles were on the stove, boiling hot water for the evening’s pasta. One of the tanks got too close to the stove, and everything blew to high heaven. Frye had been egging the attacker on when the explosion occurred. Not much left of the deliveryman, the other crazy, and Frye. All they had to identify Frye was a tooth. Better than the other two, they were powder.”
“That’s some story. How did Lester take the news?”
“That’s kind of funny,” Chief Burton replied. “Right after he heard about the explosion, Lester said he was relieved and it was time he retired. He was gone in about a month. Real sorry to hear about his missus. She was a good woman.”
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