by Toby Neal
“I’m glad to see you again. Just to see you. But not over this.” He gestured to the photos.
“I know.” Lei swallowed. “It’s overwhelming.”
Jenkins stuck his head around the door. “We’re set up, if you guys are done making up. I’d feel better if I saw some kissing.”
“Shut up, J-Boy.” Lei glared at him.
“C’mon, Sweets, just joking,” Jenkins said, withdrawing his head. Stevens scooped the pictures back into the folder.
“Don’t tell me that’s your handle.”
“No, that idiot J-boy is the only one who calls me that.” Lei led him out of the conference room and down the hall. “I’m going by Ginger around here.”
“Now, that suits you,” Stevens said, and she heard the smile in his voice. A fist of sorrow squeezed around her heart. She didn’t want to see that smile. She pushed open the door of Conference Room B unnecessarily hard, and ran straight into Fury.
Furukawa’s arms were crossed over his chest. His teeth were bared in what for him passed for a smile. “You been holding out on me, Ginger.”
“Don’t owe you shit,” Lei said, stepping up and giving back some attitude. “This is my case and it’s way beyond the office politics. What are you doing in here?”
Flea waved from across the room, where he was looking at the stones in the tackle box.
“Captain called us in to help. Task force.”
Captain Fernandez was flipping through Jazz Haddock’s binder in evident fascination.
“Wish I’d listened to that hippie pothead,” he said. “He’s sure done his homework.”
“I think that’s why he needs to be considered suspect number one,” Lei said. She belatedly remembered her manners. “Guys, this is Michael Stevens from the Big Island. He’s been there three years, from Los Angeles before that, where he saw more hard-core crime in a month than we’ll see in a lifetime.”
Captain Fernandez looked up. “I expect you all to give Detective Sergeant Stevens the respect he deserves. He’s on loan from Hilo with my blessing. Thanks for coming, Detective—you’re highly recommended by Captain Ohale.”
Stevens inclined his head. “Thanks. Looking forward to working with you.”
“Now, Lei broke open this case with Jenkins helping, but I think even they’ll agree we need to go with someone more experienced taking the lead. I’d like to have Fury, with the local knowledge, and Stevens, with the big-city detective background, co-lead the investigation.”
Lei had known this was coming, but disappointment squeezed her into silence. Fury and Stevens took each other’s measure, a long stare down and squaring off as they both folded muscular arms. Fury fired the opening round.
“Captain, I don’t think that’s going to work. Stevens, ’scuse me for saying, isn’t from around here. How’s he going to know how to call the plays?”
Stevens shot back, “How many serials you hunted? This is looking like a bad one, and I’ve worked a few. How long you been letting some whack-job disappear people in your community without the slightest notice from law enforcement?”
Fury stepped up, bristling. “It’s easy to miss what’s happening with the hippies. They come, they go, always mooching off the people who live here . . .”
“What, these people don’t matter because they live in your parks? You might be local, but it still smells like redneck to me.”
Captain Fernandez raised his hands. “Settle down. You both make good points. I can see someone needs to call the shots, and I think we need to be open to other perspectives. It’s looking to me like attitudes within the department might have contributed to missing this pattern, so with that in mind, I’m going to make Stevens primary for now, with Fury as partner and second.”
Fury’s wide nostrils flared as he breathed loudly, his hand drifting past his weapon and landing on his belt. Jenkins tried to lighten the atmosphere.
“Well, at least it seems like everyone agrees Lei and I are the real crime spotters around here.”
No one bothered to answer, but somehow it shifted things.
“Stevens,” the captain said. “You told me some thoughts earlier. Care to tell the group?”
Stevens gestured to the table. “We might as well sit.”
Everyone did. He pointed over to the board Lei had made, now mounted on the wall. “We’ve begun collecting what we know. It looks like there is either a perp or perps who are taking homeless people in May and October. First noted disappearance: 2005.”
He recapped the salient points of the case, demonstrating a remarkable memory for facts and dates, and giving Lei full credit for following up with Jay Bennett’s disappearance and uncovering the trend.
“Lei found Bennett’s wallet with all his money and other possessions, something no homeless person would just throw away unless he was taken, or committing suicide. She then looked into his possessions for clues to his state of mind and searched for a clue to follow up on, leading to the connection at the Health Guardian. Another investigator might have written him off as a probable suicide. It’s the homeless and transient status of the victims that has allowed this trend to go on so long.”
Captain Fernandez shook his head. “I don’t like the way the hippies live in our parks, but that doesn’t mean I want some serial killer picking ’em off on my island. Let’s get a plan going and get rolling on this thing. Oh, and I expect you to keep a lid on it. The last thing we need is the media getting wind of this.”
The meeting moved forward then, with Stevens and Fury taking the lead on cataloging the binder and following up on Jazz Haddock and his connection to the case. Flea was to work up background on the missing to develop a profile and consult an expert on the stones and rituals angle. Lei was to follow up with the cult connection—Jim Jones and the papaya farm—and Lei and Jenkins together would continue canvassing the parks to see what they could pick up from the current crop of park dwellers.
“I think it might be a good idea to explore a Hawaiian cultural angle,” Lei said. “I have a contact from a well-connected Hawaiian family, and I want to see about bringing this person on to consult with us if aspects of the case relate to Hawaiian cultural and religious matters. If there’s some sort of pagan worship going on, I think this referral could be a helpful resource.”
“Who is this ‘well-connected Hawaiian family’?” Fury asked. “I know all the North Shore people.”
“Her name’s Esther Ka`awai. Lehua Wolcott gave me her name as a possible resource. I called her, and I think she might be helpful.”
She slid the little square of tapa cloth over to Fury.
“Esther Ka`awai.” He looked up. “She only works with a referral from someone she knows. You said you called her already?”
“Yeah. She took my call and was willing to consult. She said she could guarantee confidentiality.”
The captain stroked his tidy goatee, looking at Fury. “Who these people stay?” he asked in pidgin.
“I know the Wolcotts—one big mixed missionary and Hawaiian family. They get plenty land on the North and West Side,” Fury said. “And Esther, she famous. They say she’s psychic, but she’s studied and practiced Hawaiian culture all her life. We call her kahu kupuna, which is a spiritual leader and counselor in the Hawaiian community.”
Stevens’s eyes had been on Lei the whole time. “How do you have a connection like this? You’ve been on the island only a few months. And what did you tell them about our investigation to have them give you this kind of insider intel?”
Lei felt a hot blush hit her hairline. Dammit. She was going to have to explain further.
“I met the Wolcott family during the Island Cleaning investigation. They were the real estate agency that reported the burglaries on the beachfront mansions, remember?” She looked at Fury. “Anyway, she said she had a feeling Esther could be helpful. I don’t know why; I haven’t told anyone what we are working on. As far as she knows, it’s the burglary case.”
“Seems pretty
random,” Stevens said, his tone skeptical.
Fury looked down at the little tapa cloth square, fingers holding it gently. “I think we should bring her on. There’s probably no one on Kaua`i with a stronger knowledge base of Hawaiian culture, and if she says she can keep a confidentiality agreement, you can take her word for it.”
“You’ll forgive me if I insist on getting that in writing,” Stevens said. “Call me a cynical Mainlander, but I’m finding this all a little woo-woo. Still, I think running the sacrifice/history angle by a local expert is not a bad idea.”
All eyes turned to the captain, who had taken the little tapa square.
“All right, Texeira. But have her sign a boilerplate confidentiality agreement, the kind we use for outside experts.”
Back at the cubicle, Lei took a coin out of her desk.
“I need some air, J-boy. Let’s go out after those hippies again. I think we should go to all the parks between Lydgate and Ke`e Beach today. What car do you want to take?” She flipped the coin, reversing it on her wrist.
“I call tails,” Jenkins said.
She looked. “Heads it is. Next stop, Lydgate Park.”
Chapter 14
Lei pulled up at her cottage. Jenkins, beside her, had his seat reclined, taking a little nap. They still needed to go back out to the station to check in with the rest of the task force, but they were both tired and hungry from working their way through all the county and state parks. They still hadn’t tackled the North Shore ones, where more contacts were likely to be—and it was already two p.m.
“I went shopping,” Lei said to Jenkins. “There’s food in the house, even if it’s health food.”
“I’ll eat anything,” Jenkins said, getting out.
Keiki came bounding up to the gate, and Lei signaled her back. Keiki already knew Jenkins from other times he’d come over, so she just sniffed him and let him pet her broad head.
Wayne came to the door. “Hey, you’re home early.”
“Pit stop,” Lei said. “We’re still working, but need some lunch.”
“You’re in luck,” Wayne said. “I’ve been working on a chili with those beans you had and the stuff you brought home.” As they entered, a wonderful smell wrapped around them.
“I could get to like this. Thanks, Dad.”
“Who’s this?” Her father looked hard at Jenkins. She laughed, threw an arm around Jenkins’s bulky shoulders.
“Dad, meet my partner on the force, Jack Jenkins. He goes by J-Boy. J-Boy, this is my dad, Wayne Texeira.”
They shook hands as Lei went into the kitchen.
“Oh man, that smells so good.” She took the lid off the chili and inhaled.
“It’ll be better tonight, but I’ll let you have a preview.” He dished the chili up for them. They ate ravenously and drank glasses of fresh-squeezed lemonade he’d made from local lemons Mrs. Abacan had brought over.
Jenkins sat back and hid a little burp behind his hand. “Best meal I’ve ever had at Lei’s house, sir. She’s good with a can opener and a gun but not much in the kitchen.”
“Shut up. I have other interests, is all.”
“And we’re glad you do. Keeping the community safe is a pretty good hobby.” Wayne gave Lei’s shoulder a squeeze as he went back to the stove.
Just then her cell phone buzzed. She checked the caller ID—an off-island number.
“Hello?”
“Aloha! This is Aaron Spellman from Corrections Aftercare Solutions. I’m your father’s reintegration specialist. I’m calling to let you know your father’s place at the restoration center is ready.”
“Oh.” Lei walked out of the room. Just when she was getting used to having her father around and enjoying some home-cooked meals. Her gut clenched around the chili—maybe she wasn’t ready for him to go yet. “Didn’t you guys used to be called probation officers?”
“It’s a whole new system now. Private contract. We’ve been tasked with lowering your state’s recidivism rate, and so far our program’s showing very positive results. We’re looking forward to having your father as our guest.”
Guest? Mandatory guest by any other name.
“Are you sure you have space for him?”
“Sure as shootin’. I pulled some strings to get him out of your hair ASAP.”
Lei found her hand sliding into her pocket to rub the worry stone.
“How soon does he need to go?”
“Well, as soon as possible as he’s scheduled for some classes and a job profile workup tomorrow. Any chance you can get him here tonight?”
“It’s going to be tough,” Lei said. “I have some work commitments here, but I guess so.”
“Thanks. The duration of the restoration program is three months. By the end of that time we hope to have our clients established in a job and their own living situation. But he will still need your support and our monitoring for some time to come after that.”
“Of course,” Lei said. Well, at least her father would still be on the island, and maybe she could help him find something not too far away when his “restoration” was complete. “Okay. I’ll take him in and call you when he’s been dropped off.” The specialist gave her the address in Lihue and she shut the phone. She walked back into the kitchen.
“Dad, that was your probation officer with Aftercare Solutions. The halfway house is ready and they want you tonight, as you’re scheduled for some kind of job profile testing tomorrow.” She firmed the tremble in her voice. “Can you pack up while Jenkins and I make a quick run out through the parks?”
Her father poured her a refill of lemonade from a plastic milk jug he’d used to mix it up. His hand wobbled, but his voice was steady.
“Sure. I’ll be ready to go when you get back.”
“It’s three months, they say. They try to get you a job and set up with a place to stay by the end. It’s not like we won’t get to see each other,” Lei said.
“Yeah, I know.” He went back to the stove and stirred the chili. Jenkins cleared his throat and stood, placing his dishes in the old-fashioned ironstone sink.
“Thanks for the lunch, Mr. Texeira. It was delicious.”
“Welcome.” Wayne’s back was still turned.
Jenkins led her back out to the truck and they got in.
“Bummer,” Jenkins said. “The man’s a good cook.”
Lei laughed, a little bubble of tight mirth. They drove in silence to the first of a series of parks. There was a fairly big cluster of tents at Anini Beach, but none of them fit the profile of the campers they’d encountered at Polihale nor recognized photos of the missing.
Under the ironwoods next to the river, at the great swath of deserted beach called Lumahai, they found a family who’d met Tiger and his followers—but they didn’t know where they “hung out” when they weren’t at Ha`ena Beach Park or Polihale.
Back at the truck, Lei’s cell phone rang—Esther Ka`awai.
“Thought we were supposed to meet a half hour ago,” Esther said.
“Oh no! I’m so sorry,” Lei said, jumping into the truck and firing it up. “I got caught up in some canvassing and forgot. You said you’re in Wainiha? We’re only ten minutes away, and I got the go-ahead to have you work with us on this case.”
“Come alone,” Esther said, and hung up. Lei looked over at Jenkins.
“She said to come alone. This lady isn’t the kind you cross. How about you drop me off and go finish a quick run-through on the remaining parks? By the time you get back, I’m sure I’ll be done. I don’t expect you to find many people out there with the weather the way it’s been.”
In no time they were pulling off precipitous Wainiha Road into a muddy driveway. Three large brindled dogs encircled the truck, barking. Lei waited until the figure of a woman appeared on the deck on the second story of the elevated pole house.
“Come,” she said, and the dogs instantly withdrew. The woman made an imperious gesture and went back inside. Lei turned to Jenkins.
&
nbsp; “Okay, be back in an hour.”
“Gotcha.”
Lei got out and climbed the stairs on the outside of the house to a deck with a panoramic view of rain-pummeled Wainiha Valley. She watched the truck pull out with a little pang of apprehension, then turned to face sliding-glass doors.
They opened and Esther stood there, a smaller woman than she’d appeared from below. Long silver hair wrapped around her head in a coronet, and a colorful muumuu brushed the floor. Sharp brown eyes assessed her from a broad, impassive face.
“Come in,” she said.
Lei slipped off her shoes, as was done in Hawaii, and entered the great room. Lauhala matting covered the floors, and graceful old pieces of koa furniture formed a seating arrangement around a coffee table made of an aquarium filled with Japanese glass ball fishing floats. An oval of beveled glass formed the top.
“My grandson made it for me,” Esther said, seeing Lei’s eyes on the unusual table. “He makes his own furniture designs.”
“I like it. He’s talented.”
“Thought you might. Have a seat.”
Lei sat. She’d brought her backpack with the confidentiality agreement she’d printed out beforehand.
“I got the go-ahead to have you consult on the case. Before I can tell you anything about it, I have to have you sign this confidentiality agreement. Standard stuff for any outside expert we bring in.”
“Fine,” Esther said, taking a pen from a mug by the old-fashioned dial phone. The older woman signed, and sat back in her aloha-print chair.
“Don’t you want to read it first?”
“Not particularly.” There was a stillness about Esther, a calm but vibrant energy Lei could feel. The kahu’s dark eyes gleamed with intelligence in the dim light. “What do you need to talk to me about?”
“The case? Well . . .” Lei took a breath, not sure where to begin.
“No. What do you need to talk to me about, personally?”
“I don’t know. I thought you were consulting on the case.”