by Kay Hadashi
“Ota needs to know about this. But he’ll make some long speech about how there was no search warrant for any of this. But I’m not a cop, so I don’t need one, right? But I’m trespassing. So, would any of this stuff be evidence of anything?” Maile looked at the collection of stuff on the floor in front of her. “None of it is particularly incriminating. So what if the guy has fake passports? Doesn’t make him a murderer. But having his dead brothers’ IDs hidden in a locked cabinet certainly doesn’t make him look saintly.”
She heard water splashing somewhere outside, and the yacht began to rock back and forth. Sitting still and trying to listen to what was going on the other side of the hull, she heard a motor boat pass by in the channel. She had to steady herself until the rocking subsided.
“You know what? This place is too doggone busy for a novice trespasser like me to be snooping around.”
She went about putting everything back into the compartment, wiping it all down to get rid of fingerprints as she went. The last thing she put in on top was the mousetrap, set to snap at the next set of unwary fingers to reach inside.
Not everything went back in, though. The wooden box that had been at the center of so much confusion and controversy was kept out. Even if it contained nothing of value, or even incriminating, she could at least show it to Detective Ota, once and for all winning that battle of wits over whether or not the thing actually existed.
Trying to remember anything she might’ve touched on the boat, she wiped things down until she replaced the keys in the control panel drawer. She was ready to go when her stomach grumbled for something to eat.
“Wait.”
Maile went back to the galley and peeked in the small fridge. Inside were several cans of sodas, the type used for mixed drinks. There were candy bars on the top shelf, and Maile wondered if they were Honey’s comfort food. There was also a bottle of wine already opened, the same bottle Oscar had opened to share with her at the weekend party. Taking that out, she yanked out the loose cork, and…
“Don’t be stupid. These jerks could have anything in a bottle of wine.”
She shoved the stopper back in. Wiping that down, she replaced it in the fridge and took a can of ginger ale for the road. The last thing she grabbed was a Rocky Road candy bar, a chocolate-covered marshmallow thing that was going to be perfect for the ride back to town on the bus.
Giving her scarf a sniff, it had picked up the scent of the sea with overtones of sweat and food grime. Using the tap at the sink, no water came out. She found something that looked like a simple pump and gave it a few presses. That brought water, which she ran through the silk and wrung it out. Getting the sheer silk as dry as she could, she replaced it over her face for the trip back to safety.
Going to the side of the boat, she crouched down again and peeked over the edge. Nobody was around, the lights at the neighbors’ house were off, the boat channel quiet. Hopping up to the side, she leapt for the dock, taking her prizes with her.
Chapter Fifteen
To escape, she didn’t climb the wall that led to the front of the house, but sprinted across the lawn to a locked gate, quickly vaulted that, and raced for the sidewalk. She ran down the sidewalk, the candy bar in a pocket, the ginger ale in one hand, and the box clutched in the other like a relay baton. With two miles to go to get back to her clothes, it was going to be a long relay leg.
After a couple of blocks, she pulled the scarf down so she could breathe easier. She figured by then, if anyone noticed her running, they’d have a hard time seeing her face in the dark well enough to identify her. It was also near where she waged the hundred yard dash with the dog, and kept an eye out for it. She never did see it, but the idea of being chased by something with teeth boosted her energy.
She was exhausted by the time she got back to her clothes near the dumpsters, and her hands were shaking from lack of blood sugar. She’d never run a marathon, but felt as though she had just finished one.
Before putting on the layer of clothes, she popped the tab on the soda only slightly, to let out the pressure that had built while she ran. But the candy bar didn’t last more than a few quick bites, the sugar rush coming on quickly. By the time she was done with that, the ginger ale was ready to be drunk.
“Oh, ick. Chocolate and ginger ale don’t go together at all.”
She found a hose attached to a faucet, where she got her scarf wet and wiped down her sweaty body. The cool water was a welcome relief, helping the heat lift from her face and scalp. She hated the idea of putting on the outer layer of clothes. Making a hasty decision and taking a quick look around, she pulled off her long sleeve black T-shirt and leotard, leaving her nearly nude. She got her khaki pants pulled up, just as a flashlight shone down the alley in her direction.
“Hey! Whatchu doin’?” a man shouted at her.
It was too late to duck behind something to hide, and she couldn’t run off dressed as she was. She had to contend with the guy while wearing only her bra as a top. “Nothing! Sorry!”
He kept coming toward her. He was turning out to be a large Samoan security guard for the commercial area. He shone his light at the puddle of water that had formed when she rinsed off with the hose. At the last moment, she nudged the stolen wood box to behind a dumpster.
“Can’t let you bathe here, sistah.”
Maile got her flowery blouse back on and buttoned as quickly as she could. “Sorry. I didn’t use much water.”
“I can’t let you live back here.”
“I’m not homeless. I just needed some water.”
“Yeah, every night half a dozen homeless dudes tell me the same thing. Taking baths, washing their clothes, filling bottles.” He shone the light around the area looking for something. “Where you livin’?”
“Not here. Really!”
“These business owners are real touchy about homeless people being here,” he said.
“Okay. I’ll go back to town.” She put her can on display. “Okay if I finish my soda?”
He shone his light on it, and again around the area. “Yeah, sure, okay. Just don’t make a mess. And don’t let me catch you here again. Understand?”
She flashed him the biggest smile she could find. “Thanks, brah. I won’t be trouble.”
Maile sipped her ginger ale until he was back on his rounds, while deciding what to do with the wood box she had stolen.
“I can’t take it on the bus with me. If the driver sees me with it, he could be a witness of me with stolen property. And if that guard sees me with it, he’ll think I broke into one of the stores. This is where a car would come in handy.” She studied the box again, while finishing her soda. “Or an accomplice with a car.”
Maile needed a new hiding place for the box until she could come back to get it. Behind a dumpster wouldn’t work because from what she’d seen at the Manoa Tours building, garbage pickup was frequent. For restaurants, it would have to be every day, just to keep down the stink of food rotting in the tropics. When she looked up, there was a built-in ledge, an ornamental detail a few feet up the wall of the building. Hopping up onto the top of the dumpster lid, she was just able to reach the box onto the ledge, and nudged it into a hollow behind a rainwater downspout.
“Good enough,” she said, hopping down again. The last thing she needed to do was stuff her sweaty black clothes into her plastic bag and leave. At the end of the building, she saw the security guard still on his rounds at the far end of the parking lot. He was busy checking doors and windows, shining his flashlight into dark corners. “See ya, brah. Have a good shift.”
By the time she got to the transit center, a bus was just pulling away from the curb. She waved desperately to get the driver’s attention.
“Hey! There she is! I was wondering if I’d see you again tonight,” he said as she boarded and flashed her bus pass. “How’d you get all sweaty?”
Maile shrugged. “My date was more fun than I thought it’d be.”
“Just a couple hours! You w
ork fast!”
They rode along the broad boulevard for a few minutes. The good thing was that she’d caught the bus back to town and wouldn’t have to walk several miles to get home. The bad thing was that the driver remembered her being on his bus. He was another potential witness to her being in Hawaii Kai at the time someone stole something from a luxury yacht.
Maile knew she had to do more than just sit there. She decided she needed him to remember her on his bus, and wearing the colorful clothing. If any closed circuit TV cameras picked her up, she needed a reasonable alibi for where she was. She needed to rely on the bus driver to remember seeing her in flowery clothes, and when the security guard saw her earlier, that was pure luck that fell into her lap. Even though she could be placed in Hawaii Kai that night, she was seen in colorful clothing, and not wearing black. “I’m your only rider?”
“Not too many this time of night.”
“What’s your name?” she asked him.
“Ikaika. Yours?”
“Maile. It’s okay if we talk while you drive?”
“Not when traffic is busy. But this time of night, I need something to do to keep me awake.”
After only five minutes, she was already out of things to talk about. But when she heard his name, she thought it sounded familiar. “Ikaika Iosefa?”
“That’s right. We know each other?”
“I’m Maile Spencer, from church.”
“Oh, yeah. Howzit, Mai! Or should I say, Hokuhoku’ikalani?”
“Let’s stick with Maile. How’re the kids?”
“Growing like bananas. Where you been on Sundays lately?”
Maile sat back in her seat. “Yeah, Sundays.”
“What ever happened with that haole you were married to?”
“Divorced already. Kinda embarrassing.”
“And you’re not coming to church because of that?” he asked.
“That, and my mom is already trying to fix me up with someone. The ink isn’t even dry on the divorce papers, and she’s trying to get me hitched and hapai.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-seven. Why?”
“You still got lotsa good years in you. Play the field a little. Have some fun. You’re a nurse, right?”
“Was.” Maile gave the abbreviated version of losing her hospital job recently. “Which is also embarrassing. I don’t want to give people at church more to gossip about than what they already have.”
“Hey, you know what you need to do?”
More unsolicited advice from an acquaintance. “What’s that?”
“Walk into that church on Sunday morning and hold your head up high. Forget about what the others might think. You wouldn’t be the first princess in Hawaii that found a little trouble. The important thing is how you get out of it again.”
Seeing her stop coming, Maile went to the door to wait. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Yeah, definitely.” Ikaika eased the bus to a gentle stop. “You’re our leader. We need someone to look up to.”
It was the same pep talk her mother often gave her, and even Brock Turner had given once or twice. “Thanks, Brother Ikaika.”
He opened the exit doors for her. “See you on Sunday?”
“I’ll do my best to be there.”
Maile’s minor sugar rush from the candy bar and the soda had left her bloodstream by then, and her stomach was begging for something more substantial. In the middle of the night, nothing was open except the little convenience store she liked, but without money in her pocket, she had little choice but to go home and forage for something in cabinets.
She had a couple of blocks to walk to get home. Even before she got close, she didn’t like what she saw in front of her apartment building. Stalling in the middle of the sidewalk for a moment, she wondered if it was worth going home, or if she should turn back and head off in the direction of her mother’s place. That would be a two mile walk, and with all the running she’d done that evening, she was simply too tired to avoid meeting the beast. As she drew near the late model sedan parked at the curb, the interior dome light came on, illuminating the man at the steering wheel. She’d have to walk right past him to get to the front door of her apartment building, something he surely wouldn’t allow. Taking a cue from the hookers she’d seen in the neighborhood, she went to his car and had him put the passenger window down.
Maile leaned down and rested her arms on the door. “Detective Ota, can whatever you have on your mind wait until another time?”
“No. Get in the car.”
“Why?”
“We need to talk.”
“The words will be the same in the morning.”
“It’s almost morning now,” he said. “When was the last time you had a meal?”
“The last time you bought me one.”
“You want breakfast or dinner?”
Maile was overdue for a meal of any sort. “Not a date, right?”
“My offer of food is fading fast.”
“Not taking me to the police station?” she asked.
“Just get in the car.”
Maile got in and snapped her seatbelt as he pulled away from the curb. “Breakfast sounds good. May I get something for my mom, also?”
“Answer my questions and you can have a whole bag full of food. Why are you feeding her? I thought you went to her place for meals.”
“I just need to take her something.”
“She’s making do, right?” he asked.
“She’s down to only one job these days and hasn’t got any money from me lately. It’s not like I’m earning any money, either.”
“Can you get your tour guide job back?”
“Not after what I said to Thomas, not likely.”
“What about another tour company?” he asked.
“I’m not a trained professional, Detective. A real company wouldn’t be interested in a loser nurse-turned-tour guide with only a few weeks of experience at a junk company.”
Detective Ota parked at a Denny’s in central Honolulu. The restaurant was the only place for blocks around with lights on. Once they were seated, he seemed more interested in staring down Maile than in reading his menu. “Have you talked to your lawyer?”
“Which one? The cheapest lawyer in the Hawaiian Islands? Or the most expensive one in the western hemisphere?”
“The one handling the problem of getting your license back.”
“Oh, her. I talked to her yesterday. She said that since I wasn’t in court, there was nothing she could do to get my license reinstated. That means I start all over at the end of the list. For the most part, I’ve given up.”
Ota banged his hand on the table.
“I want to hit something, too,” she said. “Or someone.”
They ordered, Maile making a point of having the second meal wrapped to go.
“How long is the wait list?” Ota asked.
“I don’t know how many people there are on it, but it includes everybody with a professional licensure issue, not just nurses. It looks like it’ll be two to three months before I can get scheduled again. That means more time off from work, more time not getting a paycheck, more time spent dreaming up an excuse why my brother’s college tuition won’t be paid for the rest of the year.”
“You’ve been supporting your mom and paying for your brother’s tuition from your earnings as tour guide?”
“Yes. Didn’t you know that? I whine about it often enough that the whole world should be aware of it by now.”
“I just knew money was tight. I guess that’s why you’ve been living in that place on Dole Street.”
“Not much longer. When the first of the month comes, I’m out on my butt. I’ll pack everything I own in a couple of shopping bags and schlep it to my mom’s cottage.” When Maile’s breakfast plate arrived, she sprinkled the scrambled eggs with pepper. “Okay, I’ve got my food. What do you want to badger me about?”
“Not going to badger you. There’s a minor development i
n the Swenberg case, though.”
The last name she wanted to hear right then was that one. “Oh?”
“Seems there was a prowler at their place tonight. Know anything about that?”
Maile was surprised he’d heard about the incident at the yacht so quickly, to the point of having a hard time swallowing her eggs. “Why should I?”
“Okay, let’s try this. Where were you tonight between ten PM and two AM?”
“Out.”
“Obviously, since I found you getting home at three-thirty in the morning. Mind telling me where you were just coming from?”
“I’m a big girl. I don’t have a curfew. I certainly don’t have to answer to you about by private life.”
“No, you don’t, unless you need to provide an alibi.” Detective Ota got out his little notepad to make notes with one hand while he continued to eat with the other. “You should know by now that volunteering information is easier on both of us than me trying to pry it out of you. That would be after spending some time in a holding cell with your friends.”
“Is Star Spangled Suzie there tonight?”
“No, but a couple other ladies are, and from what I saw of them, they’re a whole lot bigger than you and Suzie…Kitty…put together.”
Maile decided to tell her version of the truth, such that it was. “I was at my mom’s house until mid-evening. Then I went home for a while. Then I took a city bus to Hawaii Kai. I went for a run, and then I came back on the bus. I have eye witnesses.”
“I’m sure you do.” He nodded at her shopping bag of sweaty black clothes. “What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
“It looks like something.”
“Running clothes.” Feeling like she was being maneuvered, she handed him the bag. “You can smell them if you don’t believe me.”
Ota took the bag and looked through quickly.
“Who were the eye witnesses?”
“Ikaika Iosefa, the bus driver. He said it’s his regular route. He even recognized me when we chatted for a while.”
“On the way there or on the way back?” he asked.