by Kay Hadashi
The two-mile run felt long, and her legs ached. By the time she got to the residential area, the only lights were porch lights to illuminate her way. It was just enough, though, for her to see an obstacle half a block ahead.
A stray dog trotted along, its nose to the ground. When she got closer, her footsteps must’ve startled it. When it turned and snarled, Maile hit the accelerator in her legs and tried running past the dog. When it gave chase and closed to within five feet, she turned on the afterburners and out-sprinted it.
Maile was in a heavy sweat by the time she drew near the Swenberg place. Neighboring house lights were on here and there, but a cloudy sky made for little ambient light. Still, she stepped into the shadows of landscape palms for a breather two houses from her destination. She figured if anyone noticed her, all she had to do was say she was out for a late night jog.
The time had come to put on the black silk scarf she’d brought. Taking it from her pocket, she wrapped her face with it like a bandit in an old-time western movie. That left only her eyes, forehead, and hands not covered by something black. It also hid her face well enough that if security cameras picked her up, someone would have a hard time identifying her. It was the sneakiest, and most illegal, thing she’d ever done in her life.
“And stupidest,” she muttered as she trotted to the large house at the end of the street. “Something’s gonna go wrong, I just know it.”
The house was dark and no car sat in the driveway. The place looked abandoned for the night the way Ota implied it would be.
The yacht sat waiting in the calm channel beyond, its mast slowly rocking back and forth with the gentle tide. But between her and the boat was lush landscaping and a wall to negotiate. She’d seen closed circuit cameras under eaves during the party on her first visit to the house, and figured they were turned on and operational. But with the information from Ota that Swenberg and Honey were off the island for a night or two, and seeing no cars parked in the driveway, she had no reason to back out of her little plan.
That was quite simple. She’d sneak aboard the yacht, snoop through drawers and cabinets, and search the galley for anything that could be considered a murder weapon in the deaths of either Swenberg brother. All she had to do was get out all the cutlery stored in the galley and take pictures of it with her phone. With nearly unlimited storage in her phone, she could take pictures of everything that seemed the least bit suspicious. It would be dark, but she figured the police could digitally enhance anything. She needed to remember Ota wanted her to focus on knives, and keep her focus on that, also.
A knife had killed one of the brothers, no secret about that; but the death of the other was still being investigated as a possible medical malpractice. That was the one that was suspicious to Maile, when there had been a switch of brothers in a hospital bed, with the second supposedly dying from a drug reaction. Maybe if she could find a diary, a daily planner, even computer files that hinted at Oscar’s involvement in either death, it might be enough for Ota and the police to get more involved than they already were in their murder investigation.
“Ota better appreciate this, if he doesn’t lock me in a jail cell with my new social club.”
At the corner of the wall, Maile climbed to the top with just a few pushes of her feet. She had to steady herself, feeling tired and her energy-deplete muscles beginning to shake. She had needed more to her supper if she was going to get so much exercise that evening. Collecting her mind and focusing on the task of creeping along the top of a narrow cinder block wall a hundred feet to where it ended, she got her feet going again. One foot went in front of the other while she kept her hands out to the sides for balance.
She heard voices in the backyard of the neighbor on her side of the property. Still moving forward, she found lights turned on. That meant she’d have to hop down from the wall sooner than she wanted to avoid being seen. Staying back in a shadow, she watched what looked like a middle-aged married couple reclining in a small swimming pool. With a better look by pushing aside a palm frond, she recognized them as guests from the weekend party. It wasn’t much of a pool, more of a large hot tub that could fit several people.
She kept moving forward, easing along, hoping not to be seen in the dark. Maile figured the security system at the Swenberg house would cover not just the house, but the front and rear gardens. The yacht, she assumed, would have a separate alarm system to deal with. But if she worked it right, she could get into the yacht, do a fast search of it for the box or a missing kitchen knife, and get back out for a jog along the sidewalk again long before police ever showed up. If it was slow-going and careful business to get across the property and onto the boat, her get-away would have to be fast.
“That’s assuming a lot,” she whispered in the dark. “Mostly it assumes I don’t screw up this hare-brained idea big time.”
She aimed for a gap between large banana plants along the wall to hop down. Unfortunately, when she landed, it was in dead leaves, causing a crunching sound.
“Did you hear something?” one of the neighbors said.
“Oscar’s away, isn’t he?” the man asked.
Listening to them, Maile crouched behind the banana plant.
“Isn’t he going on some sort of island cruise?”
“That’s not till next weekend.”
“The yacht’s still there.”
“Probably a rat,” the man said.
“What about Honey?”
“Yeah, what about her?”
“Did she go with him? Because neither one of them are secure enough to be left alone for more than an hour.”
“No, I mean what about her fake implants?”
“Is that all you care about?” the woman asked.
“Not much else to her, is there?”
“I’m taking a look,” the woman said. Water splashed. “Don’t we have a flashlight out here somewhere?”
“In the cubby by the back door, same as always.”
Maile listened for footsteps, and waited for the flashlight to shine in her direction. Not knowing how bright the light might be, or how close the neighbor woman might look, Maile picked up the dead banana leaf and held it in front of her, hoping her profile was hidden. Peeking around the side of it, the dim light the neighbor shined wasn’t much to worry about.
“Hey, do we have more batteries for this thing?”
“I don’t know. In the house, maybe.” There was more splashing, the man getting out of the mini-swimming pool. “I’m going in.”
Maile watched as the neighbor lady patrolled the Swenberg’s backyard. The good thing about that was she was learning it likely wasn’t alarmed, at least not that the neighbors knew. It also meant she’d have to hurry with her inspection of the yacht, that if there was a silent alarm, the police were already coming after being alerted by the neighbor walking around the back yard with her dim light.
At one point, the lady walked within ten feet of Maile, who was crowded into a cluster of spider webs spanning the two banana plants. When the neighbor finally gave up her search and left the Swenberg property, Maile listened for the back door of their house to close and the lights to go out. Waiting another two minutes made sure they’d gone into the house and were no longer near the back.
Setting aside the leaf, she stepped out from her spot and began wiping sticky webs from her face and arms. She shuddered when she found a spider running up her arm toward her neck. With a quick flick of her finger, it was gone.
With the neighbor’s patio lights now off, the Swenberg’s backyard was even darker. She had fifty feet of open space to cover before she got to the dock where the yacht was moored. Most of that was grass, except for a flagstone path that led from the patio to the dock. That she found with the toe of her shoe as she sprinted across the lawn.
She must’ve been running faster than she knew, because when she vaulted forward, she caught some air beneath her and landed in a heap.
“So stupid…” Maile whispered, her face in the
crab grass.
The neighbor’s lights came on again.
“You hear something?” the woman asked.
There was nothing for Maile to do but lay flat to the ground and hope her profile wasn’t noticed in the dark.
“There’s nothing out there,” the man’s muffled voice said. “It’s just a rat.”
“Sounded bigger than a rat.”
“It’s that stupid boat. They don’t tie it up securely and its hull bangs on the dock when the tide comes in. Same as always.”
“Is the tide coming in now?” the woman asked.
“How should I know?”
The lights went out and their back door slammed closed again. For some odd reason, Maile got some satisfaction out of the idea that wealthy people in Hawaii Kai had their little marital spats, also. While the argument over tides and the Swenberg boat being a nuisance continued in the neighbor’s house, Maile bolted for the dock. The little bit of ambient light there was at the boat was blocked by the hull.
She went to the back and read the name: The Mongoose. It matched what Ota had told her, so she knew she was trespassing on the right yacht.
The side of the boat sat up from the dock about four feet. There was no ladder to climb, so she’d have to push up and somehow vault over the side. Pushing on the hull, the man had been right, that the boat wasn’t tied securely to the dock, that it pushed away a few feet with the slightest of pressure. With one last look behind her at the neighbor’s house, she climbed up and over the side of the yacht, landing on the vinyl deck with a clunk.
“I tell ya, Harry, there’s something out there,” the woman said. The neighbor’s patio lights came on all over again.
This time the man came out with her. He swept the beam of a bigger flashlight back and forth as they walked. Maile kept watch by peeking over the side of the yacht, hidden by coils of rope wound onto a cleat. That’s when she noticed her trail of dirty footprints she’d left behind. Once the pair made the rounds of their own and the Swenberg’s backyards, they came toward the yacht Maile was hiding on. Those footprints started to look awfully large to Maile.
“There’s nobody out here,” the husband said. He walked right over top of the footprints, never looking down.
When she saw them get a little too close for comfort, Maile scooted back and ducked for the safety of the cabin. It was only three steps down to where she had the space to hide, but it was better than being found on the deck. Just as she was curling into the smallest ball she could manage, the flashlight swept across the deck. That’s when she noticed smudges of dirt on the white deck, left over from her shoes.
“See? No one. It’s just the boat bouncing off the dock.”
Maile felt the boat rock from side to side. Chancing a peek, she saw the man pulling on one of the ropes that held the yacht to the dock.
“Pull that other line,” he griped at his wife. She was now holding the light, shining it on what he was doing.
“Pull it yourself. I’m not a sailor.”
“Lend me a hand, will you? I’m just trying to get this thing tied up properly.”
“Yeah, like you know what you’re doing with a boat like this one.”
“I’ve been on boats,” he said.
Maile felt a soft bump as the hull bounced off old tires mounted on the dock.
“You’ve been on a cruise liner.”
“I know enough that they need to be tied securely or they’ll get damaged.”
“What’s going on out here?” someone new to the group asked.
Maile tried curling into a tighter ball in her little hiding spot. She even pulled the scarf up to her forehead to cover her entire face. The silk was sheer enough that she could see light and silhouettes through it.
“Hey, John. Sorry about all the noise,” the man said. “Oscar’s yacht isn’t tied up properly.”
Maile felt another bump, this one harder.
“It can’t be too tight,” the newcomer said. “There has to be enough slack for it to rise and fall with the tide.”
“I’m just tired of listening to the noise all night.”
“It hasn’t been that noisy,” the new guy said.
Peering through the scarf, Maile watched as he tied rope to the same cleat she’d been hiding behind a moment before.
“Not the boat. My wife. She keeps harping about how someone’s out here.”
“Yeah, we are, you stupid idiot,” the wife said.
The new guy laughed. “Well, once Oscar gets an alarm system installed, he’ll have to figure out something, because each time this thing bangs against the dock, that alarm will go off. That’s not going to make anyone very happy.”
With that, the neighbors bade each other a good night and left Maile alone on the yacht.
“Well, I found out there’s no alarm for the yacht,” she whispered, now stretching a cramp that had started in a leg. She pulled the scarf back down to see better.
Since she was already down the steps, she decided to start in the cabin. The bad part of that was that the small door was locked.
“Now what? All this trouble and I can’t search this stupid boat?”
She went back to the deck and opened compartments as quietly as possible. She found more rope, another sail, maps and books, a water purification system, life vests, an emergency beacon, even inflatable toys for kids to play with in the water. But no wooden box. Getting into the last drawer, one at the steering wheel and control panel for driving the boat, she hit the jackpot.
“Surely Swenberg’s not so dumb…”
Grabbing the key ring slung with several keys in various sizes and shapes, she took that back to the cabin door. After trying several in the dark, she got the door open. She’d neglected to bring her penlight that she used on tours to see her way around.
“Or used to use on tours,” she muttered. She pulled the silk scarf mask down from her face to breathe better in the stuffy boat cabin. “May as well get arrested tonight and move into Ota’s cellblock full-time.”
Leaving her phone in her pocket, she felt her way forward as much as looked. She decided to go with Ota’s quest to find the missing murder weapon and searched the galley. She searched drawers for cutlery and found mostly cheap tableware. Oddly, there were no cooking or food prep utensils anywhere. She took pictures of the plastic stuff anyway.
“Sorry, Ota. No metal handled kitchen knives. Maybe in the house.”
She went from drawer to drawer, methodically checking everywhere. Every time she opened a drawer, she snapped a quick picture of the contents. She kept the flash off to keep from calling attention to herself, and hoped the dark images could be enhanced later. At this point in time, she wasn’t sure if she would recognize the knife handle, or even the box. She’d only gotten glances of both, and one of those of the box was underwater. That’s what her money was still on, that it had been lost in the sands and tides of Hanauma Bay. With each successive drawer providing no clues to either the knife or the box, she was more certain of her suspicions that both were long gone.
Until she got to the last cabinet. It was locked, and after trying several keys, it popped open as though it were spring-loaded. With rubber strips around the edges like a car door, it seemed to be a watertight compartment. Inside was a box, decorated with hand-painted flowers on the lid. That also required a small key, which was on the key ring. As soon as she opened it, she took a picture.
“Wow.”
Inside were several pieces of jewelry, all of them with at least a few jewels in settings. Rings were on a hoop, bracelets dangled from hooks, and a necklace was stretched across the underside of the lid. It was too dark to admire their sparkle, but Maile assumed they were real. Using her scarf to wipe down the box after she locked it again, she set it aside.
“I wonder if those are for Honey, or being hidden from her.”
Next, she found a manila envelope. Opening the clasp, she slid out what was inside. Several passports were there, none of them for America. One
was a Swedish passport, which she opened. It had Oscar Swenberg’s picture inside, but with an entirely different name: Lucas Nilsson. There were ID cards for his brothers, mostly driver’s licenses and credit cards, all with their real names, and all from mainland states. The last passport was for Spain. Inside was Honey’s picture with her image made up to look less Asian. Maile was impressed with how Hispanic Honey, or Laurie, could look in a photo. Her name in the passport was listed as Maria Guadalupe Contraves. It was clean and unused. With everything open and laid out, she snapped a picture.
“I hope Ota can do something with all these pictures.”
After wiping those down, she returned everything to the manila envelope and set that aside. Groping inside the dark compartment, she felt something move and heard a snap. Feeling around a little more, she took it out.
“Well, that’s one method of security,” she said, looking at the large mousetrap.
There was one more thing in the compartment, on top of which the mousetrap had been sitting. She took that out and held it up to get some light on it.
“There you are.” Maile wiped her hand across the top of the simple wooden box. She was sure it was the same thing that she’d seen in Swenberg’s hand at the beach. “Do you have any idea of how much trouble you’ve been causing me?”
A seam went all the way around, with hidden hinges along one side, and a pinhole lock opening on the other. None of the keys on the key ring were small enough to fit. Setting that aside, she groped for anything else. When all she found were cobwebs, Maile had a decision to make.
“Okay, I can leave all of this here for Ota to eventually find, or I can take it with me. That would be stealing. This stuff is potentially evidence, something he can use, but might not ever find. Unless I tell him where to find it. That’s all he wanted me to do next weekend on the cruise, to see if there was evidence on the yacht and get pictures of it.”
She considered the box and everything that went with it again.