by Kay Hadashi
Maile checked the time. “He was right. I still don’t know why you’ve called me.”
“I’ve had a process server looking for you all week. It’s impossible to avoid a process server, Miss Spencer.”
“Process server?” Maile asked.
“We need you to appear in US District Court tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow morning? I can’t. I have something else…”
“No choice in the matter, Miss Spencer. You’ve been subpoenaed to be a witness in the trial of Prince Aziz of Khashraq. Are you familiar with him?”
“It’s Ms. Spencer, and yes, I know who he is. What testimony? I don’t know anything about his case, other than meeting him very briefly a few weeks ago.”
“Mrs. Abrams, the US Attorney for this district, is the one who subpoenaed you. We would have liked to prep you before, but we’re out of time. We might be able to do some prep work early tomorrow at the courthouse, though. Please be at the US District courthouse by eight o’clock. You know where to find it?”
“Yes, just down the street from the Iolani Palace. But you must understand that I have a hearing to attend with the state professional licensing board at the same time.”
“A hearing with the state?” Miss Wright asked.
“Yes. I’ve been waiting for weeks for…”
“This is a federal matter, which supersedes state matters, Miss Spencer.”
“It’s Ms. Spencer, and I’ve been waiting…” Maile tried a different approach. “Let me talk to Mrs. Abrams so I can explain about…”
“I’m sorry, but she’s very busy right now. You’ll be able to speak to her first thing in the morning. Please don’t be late, Miss Spencer.”
“Don’t hold your breath waiting for me,” Maile said, before ending the call.
Half an hour later, Maile’s phone rang with a call from Mrs. Abrams. She sounded every bit as officious as her secretary had.
“I truly do need you to attend the hearing tomorrow morning, Miss Spencer. You’re my best witness, and having you there is the only way we’ll be able to get Prince Aziz behind bars for good, and to uncover the rest of his syndicate.”
“Okay, for the last time, it’s Ms. Spencer. If you or anyone else calls me Miss one more time, I’ll insist that all of your address me with the name that is on my birth certificate.”
“Which is what?”
“Kamali’i-wahine Hokuhoku’ikalani Spencer.”
“I haven’t been in Hawaii for very long,” Abrams said. “What does that mean?”
“Hokuhoku’ikalani means Shining Star in the Sky. That’s my true given name, Maile being a nickname.”
“I know maile is a vine with flowers. What was the first part again?”
“Kamali’i-wahine.”
“Is that another name?” Abrams asked.
“It means princess.” Maile took a deep breath and counted to ten, trying to decide how far she wanted to push an agenda she normally left alone. “Not that it means anything to the US federal government, but I am considered a princess in the Kingdom of Hawaii, if it were reinstated. I am at least as much of a princess as Aziz is a prince in Khashraq, wherever that is.”
“It might be easier to call you Ms. Spencer.”
“For all of us. But why is it so important that I’m there in the morning? Can’t my testimony wait until the afternoon?”
“What’s so important in your morning that you think is more important than bringing justice to Prince Aziz?”
“I was told by Detective Ota that you’ve been thoroughly briefed about my background. Is that not right?”
“He said you’re an unemployed nurse working as a tour guide, live near the university, and help support your mother and brother.”
“I’m unemployed because I lost my job because of a medication error caused by another nurse that led to a patient’s death. Somehow, that snowballed into losing my license to practice nursing. Tomorrow morning is my hearing with the board of professional licensing. According to my lawyer, it’s simply a formality, but I need to be there to answer questions and sign paperwork, something my lawyer can’t do for me.” Maile knew she was winning the argument, and only needed to finish it off. “If I miss tomorrow, I have to start all over with scheduling a new hearing, which could take several more months.”
“I feel for your plight, but this matter with Prince Aziz is more important.”
“What? Why?” Maile almost shouted.
“This is a federal case. Yours is a simple employment issue.”
“Simple? What? If I don’t get that license returned and start back to work, I might be living under cardboard at the park! As it is, I don’t have the money to pay next month’s rent. How is that a simple employment issue?”
“I’m sorry, Miss…Ms. Spencer.”
“You’d rather put a useful citizen on the street, just so you can get a conviction of someone with a lawyer who will likely get him out of jail time anyway?”
“Maybe if you had been more responsible with your career…”
“How dare you!” Maile was beyond incensed. “Mrs. Abrams, what’s it called when a witness is considered unwilling to cooperate?”
“Hostile witness. Why?”
“Because that’s what you’ve just created in me.”
“Be in court tomorrow morning, and on time, or I’ll have you arrested for contempt. And I guarantee that won’t look good to the licensing people, if you ever have your little hearing. And believe me, Miss Spencer, my reach is long and strong.”
“Don’t hold your breath on me being there tomorrow.”
Maile rammed her fingertip on the End Call button and tossed the phone aside. She turned off the lamp, casting her little apartment back into darkness. It didn’t mean she was done fuming. Flicking on the lamp again, she called Detective Ota, not caring if he was asleep.
“What did you tell that…miserable wench Mrs. Abrams about me?”
“As little as possible. But when a federal prosecutor tells a police officer to provide information, he complies. The same applies to you.”
“Or what happens? She said something about being held for contempt. What exactly does that mean?”
“It means she can put you in a cell until you decide to comply.”
“Okay, lock me up. I’ll sit in a cell until tomorrow afternoon, or until Aziz’s trial is over.”
“His trial could drag on for weeks, Maile. And if I understand the problem correctly, you’d also miss your license hearing if you sat in a cell tomorrow. What would that get you?”
“Nothing, but at least that witch Mrs. Abrams wouldn’t win.”
“You’re a highly competitive individual, Maile, willing to take on a federal prosecutor for the US District Circuit Court. She was appointed by the President, you know.”
“And I was never served a subpoena. They only called me on the phone this evening, telling me to be in court tomorrow, or else. Is that even legal? Doesn’t someone actually have to put papers in my hand?”
“Yes, unless Abrams has papers signed by the judge, indicating they tried serving you but couldn’t.”
“There’s nothing I can do to avoid that trial so I can go to my license hearing? Because I seriously need to get back to work and get some money coming in.”
“When you get to court tomorrow, ask to see those papers signed by the judge. She has to serve those to you before they can demand you enter the courtroom.”
“What should I do with my lawyer? Send her to the license hearing, or drag her into the Aziz trial, just to represent me? Because she’s another giant bill that I have no idea how I’m going to pay. She’s already representing me for both the licensing department, and with the hospital, not to mention my divorce. I can’t start stacking even more hours of legal time on top of that. Anyway, she’s not that kind of lawyer.”
“What kind?” Ota asked.
“The kind that can deal with a federal prosecutor. She’s a great gal, and knows her stuff w
hen it comes to simple divorce or employment issues, but she’d get lost in five minutes flat if she were in a real courtroom.”
“Would you mind if I helped out a little?”
“You’re not a lawyer, Detective. I appreciate the offer, but I can’t ask you to risk trouble for yourself.”
“Not me. But I think I know someone who might be able to help out in the morning. He’s a big name in town, at least equal to that of Abrams. Okay if I ask him for a favor?”
“Sounds expensive. And like even more trouble.”
“I’d just be calling in a favor.”
“I’m not a charity case, Detective. I pay my way through life, one way or another.” There was a knock at Maile’s door. Taking her phone with her, she peeked out the peephole to see who it was so late at night. All she could figure it was Mrs. Taniguchi, her landlady, there to complain about Maile talking too loudly too late. What she saw gave her a jolt. “Hey, what are US Marshals?”
“Why?” Ota asked.
“There are two of them, a man and a woman, in uniform standing outside my door, knocking.”
“Have you answered?”
“No. Who are they?”
“I don’t cross paths with them often enough to know any of them by name. Their role is at the courthouse, mostly transferring federal prisoners from the cellblock to court, and back again. On the mainland, they have more jobs, but here in Hawaii, that’s their biggest role, the transfer of federal prisoners.”
“Why are they here? I don’t have any prisoners in here,” Maile said.
There was a hesitation before Ota replied. “I think it would be best if you answered and did whatever they ask. This is one of those times where it’s smart to be cooperative with authorities, Maile.”
Maile wrapped in her bed sheet before answering the door, keeping Ota on the line. She unlocked most of the locks but kept the security chain on and looked out the gap.
“May I help you?”
Both of the marshals flashed ID wallets. “Maile Spencer?” the woman asked.
“Yes.”
“Also known as Hokuhoku’ikalani Spencer?”
Maile had a pretty good idea of what was going on, and why. “Yes.”
“We’re US Marshals, assigned to US Federal Court witness protection duty. We need to escort you to a secure location until tomorrow morning.”
“What’s this about?”
The male marshal displayed signed court documents for Maile to read. “This is a court authorized notice, similar in law to a subpoena, forcing you to comply to being called as a witness in a hearing being held tomorrow morning in US Federal Court.”
Through the gap, Maile scanned the document, and then read it more thoroughly a second time. From what she could tell, Abrams had thrown her weight around and got someone to sign the thing that forced her to comply or she’d go to jail for contempt.
“If you open the door, I can come in while my partner waits out here in the hall,” the female marshal said. “You’ll need to change your clothes. Something appropriate for a court appearance would be best.”
That’s when Maile heard Ota yelling at her on the phone.
“They’re telling me…”
“I heard what they said. Who signed the document?” he asked.
Maile looked at the paperwork again. “Randall Delacourt.”
“He’s the one hearing the Aziz case. There’s nothing you can do about that. Where are they taking you?”
“City police lockup,” the woman marshal said.
“Back to your jail. Why is it that I can’t seem to stay out of there for more than a few days at a time?” Maile said to Ota on the phone.
“Just go with them and I’ll see what I can do about getting you somewhere more comfortable.”
When the call ended, Maile let in the woman. The marshal watched as Maile dressed in the outfit she had reserved for her own hearing the next morning.
“What am I supposed to take?” Maile asked, when she finished dressing.
“As little as possible.”
“Nothing you don’t want to lose,” the man said.
“I suppose you’re taking me away in handcuffs?”
“You’re not under arrest, but if you try to flee, you will be, and that’s when the shackles come out.”
At the downtown police station, Maile listened as the marshals tried their best to get an empty cell for her.
“This isn’t the Hilton,” the desk sergeant said. “You can’t just bring witnesses in and expect five-star treatment. Take her to a hotel.”
“We can’t babysit her all night. She needs to be secure because of a possible elopement risk,” the woman marshal said.
“Hey! I’m standing right here. I’m not going to run away from home!”
“One way or another, you’re sitting in a cell tonight.” The woman put her focus back on the desk sergeant. “What do you have?”
“The inn’s full tonight, but I can put her in the short term holding block.” The desk sergeant looked at Maile. “You able to stand all night?”
“Not like I feel like sleeping in here.”
The desk sergeant hit a buzzer that opened the electronic door for them to get in. They were met by an officer who took custody of Maile. After getting paperwork from the desk sergeant, he led Maile to lockup.
Maile wasn’t even inside before she caught the attention of the other women in the cell. It looked like it was going to be a very long night.
Chapter Twelve
“Hey! Lookey Here! It’s School Teacher! What’re you in for this time, School Teacher? Giving the rich kid an F in sex ed class?”
There was something about hookers that Maile just didn’t like them. The way they dressed or smelled, or how they earned a living. Maybe it was the fact they had more sex than everyone else and just didn’t seem appreciative about it. Plus, they got paid for it. Right at that moment, she didn’t like being crowded into the corner of a cell full of them.
“How did you ever graduate junior high? Taking sex ed six hours a day, every day, until you were done?” Maile asked her cellmate. They’d met before but not on friendly terms.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Close up, the blond hooker’s breath was beyond rank. Maile could tell she needed antibiotics for a throat infection. It didn’t go with her red, white, and blue Star Spangled outfit at all.
“It means class is still in session, six hours a day and all your students get a passing grade, whether you helped them earn it or not.”
Star Spangled shook her head with confusion. “You don’t make no sense.”
“It wasn’t supposed to for someone with as many IQ points as stars on her shirt.” Maile looked at the Asian girl’s bleach-blond hair, now coiled into tightly permed curls. “Your hair sure is big. Something go wrong at the salon?”
“Hey! I pad a lot of money for this!”
“I’m sure you did.” Star Spangled was now distracted enough that Maile could safely push past her. “You had to take time out of your busy schedule, too.”
Maile was halfway across the cell before she was jumped from behind. She wasn’t big herself, but Maile was stronger and fitter than the petite Asian she was wrestling with. While growing up wrestling with her brother, she’d learned a few tricks. All she had to do was fake a roll to one side and then push back the other way, before getting on top of her cellblock nemesis. She’d forgotten all about the good dress she was wearing for her court appearance in the morning, until she heard a hem split. Not really caring if it was hers or Star Spangled’s, she continued to subdue the girl beneath her.
“You seriously need to leave me alone, understand? Because I am in no kind of mood to deal with a jerk like you.”
After spewing some language, Star Spangled got a handful of Maile’s hair and pulled. Deciding turnabout was fair play, Maile did the same, getting a handful of heavily-sprayed blond curls. Just as they were both pulling as much as they could, the cellblock door buzzed and
clattered open.
“Spencer, you’re out!” shouted the guard. A man in a suit but no necktie was with him.
Maile only looked down at the girl beneath her. “Sorry, but I have to go. Have a nice night in jail.”
“Who’s that guy? Your pimp?”
Not knowing who the man was, Maile ignored the question. When she stood, she still had some of Star Spangled’s hair stuck to her hand that had pulled loose. She dropped it on the girl. “Sorry, hairdo malfunction.”
Once Maile was out of the cell, she was led back to the squad room, the man in the suit following along behind. The large room was quiet, only half the desks occupied, not the usual chaos she was accustomed to seeing during the daytime. The first place she looked was at Ota’s desk. It was vacant. She didn’t know if that was a good sign or bad.
“Ms. Spencer,” the man said. “I’m David Melendez, your attorney.”
“You’re the one who got me out?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks.” She looked him up and down for a moment, noticing his suit was likely the most expensive she’d ever seen on a man talking to her and not on a store mannequin. “I guess I should be more appreciative, but I have no way of paying you, at least for a while.”
“Don’t worry about that. Detective Ota called and said you’ve been having some trouble with federal officers, and that you’re a family friend of my cousin, Melanie Kato.”
“Mayor Kato from Maui? I only met her briefly a few days ago when I took her daughter on a tour.”
“And from what I heard, Thérèse liked you enough that she wants to spend the day with you whenever they come to Honolulu.”
“She’s very sweet.” Maile considered the man in front of her again. Melanie Kato, Mayor of Maui, was the daughter and only child of ex-President Jack Melendez, now long dead. That made David Melendez the President’s nephew. She figured he was a part of a large law firm that took clients by retainer only, or charged enormous hourly fees. If she took him on as her counselor, she could buy a new car for what she’d have to pay him. “But I’m not having so much trouble that I need a lawyer like you. Really, I can’t afford two lawyers.”