Fire and Vengeance

by Robert McCaw

  McKenzie then turned to his military service with the Army’s elite 5th Special Forces Group. “I thought I grew up poor until I got to Afghanistan,” Koa said. “In Hawai‘i, we had no money, but we had land and gardens. We grew our own food year-round and caught fish. We didn’t eat steak, but we never starved like the villagers I saw in Afghanistan.”

  “Tell me about Somalia. You were in Mogadishu during the Black Hawk Down episode, weren’t you?” McKenzie asked.

  “The worst day of my life. The politicians put us in an impossible situation with inadequate resources and bad intelligence. I lost two good men. It was touch and go for the rest of us. I hope the powers in Washington learned never to commit American lives without backing our guys up, but I doubt the politicians are that smart.”

  “Any other reflections on that experience?”

  “Many, but one changed my whole perspective on life. Somalia was full of fanatics, wild men with no regard for human life. You couldn’t talk to them. You could only shoot them before they shot you. That experience taught me to reject fanatics—all fanatics of whatever stripe—including those in Hawai‘i who would turn the clock back to the old monarchy.”

  They talked about Koa’s role as a police officer and some of his more notorious cases before McKenzie turned to the most sensitive topic on his agenda. “Koa, you have a brother in prison.” McKenzie summarized Ikaika’s long history of violence and incarceration. “How have you dealt with that as a police officer?”

  “It’s been difficult. People look at my family and see two brothers—the cop and the criminal.” Once again, Koa omitted that he—like Ikaika—had committed a serious crime or that he—unlike Ikaika—had gotten away without prosecution. “People don’t understand. My superiors and colleagues in the police department didn’t understand. I couldn’t control my brother, and he blamed me for his problems.”

  “Your brother blamed you. Why?”

  “I don’t know, Walker. I’ve often puzzled over it. My brother has been disruptive since childhood, and I have wondered whether there wasn’t some medical or psychological reason for his behavior.”

  “You risked your life to arrest him, didn’t you?”

  “There’s always a risk when a police officer goes into an unknown situation, but I focused on saving his life, not arresting him.”

  “How did you do it?”

  “Actually, he did it. He picked the right moment to turn on his criminal friends, and we took advantage of his actions.”

  “You’ve just come from visiting him. How’s he doing?”

  “As you know, Walker, he had a seizure in prison caused by a brain tumor. I visited him in the hospital after his surgery, and he’s doing well. In almost every way, it was the best visit I’ve ever had with my little brother.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  A DOUBLE RAINBOW over the mountains welcomed Koa when he stepped off the plane in Hilo. Then he turned his cell phone on, and all hell broke loose. Police Chief S. H. Lannua was back in town from his gallbladder surgery and on a warpath. He had Koa on the carpet in his office less than an hour later. Lannua, a tall, patrician man with black hair and hard black eyes, traced his roots back to one of the missionary families who arrived in Hawai‘i in the 1820s.

  “What have you done, Detective?”

  “Chief, I’ve been in Honolulu with my brother. I have no idea what’s going on.”

  “Last night, TV4 ran an exposé, accusing Cheryl Makela, the mayor’s former planning director, of being partners with one of the mayor’s top aides in the Hualālai Hui. The reporter painted her approval of the development as part of a bribery scheme.”

  “Okay. What does that have to do with me?”

  “People in the mayor’s office say you leaked the story.”

  The allegation stunned Koa. “That’s preposterous. Who says that?”

  “Watanabe. And he says you also leaked the story about the missing DOE documents. He says you’ve been spending a lot of time with the press, especially Walker McKenzie. Is that true?”

  The chief had hit a sensitive topic. Koa knew he should own up to his deal with the reporter, but he hadn’t leaked the Makela story and wasn’t ready to tell the chief about possible parole for his brother. He ducked the question. “Watanabe is trying to hide something. He was in a bar with the killer, Army Sergeant Ralph Leffler.”

  Disbelief clouded the chief’s face. “You have proof ?”

  “Yes. The Army guys got photos of the two of them together at one of the Monarch’s back tables.”

  “Jesus. That sleazy dump down by the docks? What was Watanabe doing there?”

  “I don’t know, but the two of them were having a tête-à-tête at a corner table and from the expressions on their faces it didn’t look social.”

  “Meeting about what?”

  “I don’t know, Chief. There’s something fishy going on with Watanabe. On the one hand, he and Leffler had something going, and on the other hand, Watanabe’s name is on Leffler’s kill list.”

  “Jesus, have you told the mayor?”

  “Not yet. I want to talk to Watanabe first. It’s only fair to hear his story, and I haven’t had time with this trip to Honolulu.”

  “What the hell were you doing in Honolulu?”

  “I guess you haven’t heard. After they brought my brother back here to testify at the Lono trial, he lost consciousness and was diagnosed with a brain tumor.”

  The chief’s face softened for a moment. “God, Koa, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “I don’t advertise my family’s issues. But Ikaika’s okay, at least for the moment.”

  Then it was back to business. “So back to Makela. The mayor’s really hot about the press story.”

  “You’d better be careful with that one, Chief.”

  “Why?”

  “When I interviewed her, she refused to say whether she had sub-hui partners—suggesting she’s got silent partners. And Zeke’s planning to put her in front of a grand jury.”

  “Jesus Christ, this KonaWili thing is a serious mess.” The chief paused as if thinking through the options. “Now that I’m back, I’ll be taking the lead.”

  Koa had been around the chief long enough to recognize his ulterior motives—namely, to protect the mayor. “That’s fine, Chief. I’ll be glad to be out of the hot seat, but you should probably run it by the mayor.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he issued some kind of executive order officially appointing me to lead the investigation.”

  “Why? You’d naturally head it up in my absence.”

  “The governor wanted to take control. He and Mayor Tanaka got into a pissing contest. The county prosecutor told Tanaka he could keep control with an executive order.”

  “Goddammit. I run this department.”

  “Absolutely, Chief. But you weren’t here when the balloon went up at KonaWili. I didn’t ask to be on the podium with the mayor, and he didn’t give me a choice.”

  “Goddammit,” the chief swore again. “The mayor wants a briefing.”

  “Okay, but I’d really like to keep the Watanabe thing under wraps ’til I talk to him.”

  “We’ll have to see how it goes,” the chief responded just before his assistant announced the mayor’s aides had set up the conference call. They got on the speaker and waited for the mayor to join along with Inaba and Watanabe.

  As soon as they identified themselves, Watanabe took the first shot. “What do you know about these goddamn leaks, Detective Kāne?”

  Koa was about to deny leaking the story, but the mayor interrupted. “Let’s not waste time on news leaks, Tomi. I want to hear what progress we’ve made in wrapping up this investigation.”

  Koa’s mind raced, planning his response. He found it troublesome to brief the mayor with Watanabe on the phone. He decided on a short version, focusing on Leffler as Witherspoon’s killer and the prime suspect in Boyle’s staged suicide. The question, he told the mayor, was who had
hired Leffler and why.

  “The question,” the mayor shot back, “is why haven’t you arrested Leffler? I told you, I wanted this investigation wrapped up.”

  Koa looked at the chief, wondering whether he really wanted to retake control. That would put him, not Koa, in the mayor’s gun sights. But the chief’s need to be at center stage got the better of him. “Mayor,” the chief began, “now that I’m back from the mainland, I’m sure you want me to take over the investigation?”

  Silence.

  Unable to conceal his surprise at the mayor’s long pause, the chief looked shaken.

  “Well, Chief Lannua,” the mayor finally responded, “no reflection on your leadership of the police department, but I’m on record appointing Detective Kāne as the lead, and I’m loath to change paddlers mid-race. Let’s leave things as they are for now.”

  The mayor’s words troubled Koa. The rebuke to the chief would do his relationship with Lannua no good. But more worrisome, Koa wondered once again if he was being set up. All Koa’s instincts said the mayor should have been happy to cede control to the governor. Unless he was protecting someone. And now with the police chief back, the mayor wasn’t even following the chain of command. Koa had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  The chief frowned, obviously unhappy. “That’s fine, Mayor.”

  Koa, relieved the conference call was over, turned to leave the chief’s office.

  “Don’t go yet. There’s another thing, Detective.”

  Lannua appeared frustrated and about to lash out. Koa knew from experience where he was going. Here we go again, he thought.

  “How many times have I told you to work with Shizuo Hiro? You took advantage of my absence to bring in the Honolulu ME. That was underhanded. Shizuo is hopping mad.”

  With some effort, Koa suppressed a smile to avoid launching the chief over the edge. “Sir, I cleared the decision with the mayor personally. He agreed Shizuo wasn’t up to the task, especially with the national press involved.”

  The chief looked stunned. “The mayor agreed to sideline Shizuo?”

  “Yes, sir.” He wanted to add that it was probably because Shizuo hadn’t lost enough money in his recent poker games with the mayor, but Koa held his tongue.

  Koa left the chief’s office with a big problem looming. He’d successfully avoided the chief’s question about his dealings with Walker McKenzie, but they wouldn’t stay private for long. If he didn’t break the KonaWili case before McKenzie aired his personal interest story, he’d be sitting on the hot seat, accused of using the press for his own personal gain—and God only knew what else.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  KOA HATED DEALING with politicians. He preferred real people who daily faced the frequent hardships and occasional joys of normal life. He understood how their minds worked and knew their vices. Politicians reigned like aliens from another planet, their lives padded with special prerogatives. They didn’t stand in the DMV line to register their cars. They cut ahead of everybody else at the airport security barriers. They lacked experience with food stamps or uninsured medical bills. They followed hidden agendas and talked in political codes designed to deceive the uninitiated.

  While politicians fell among Koa’s least respected, their press agents fared worse. Too often, Koa had heard Watanabe assert that saying something loudly enough and often enough led people to believe even patently false statements. Koa detested few people in Hawai‘i, but Tomi Watanabe made the grade. And Koa knew Watanabe reciprocated. Thus, he approached the prospect of interviewing Watanabe with extreme caution. He asked the county prosecutor to arrange the interview and sit it on it. Watanabe might blow Koa off, but he’d think twice before stonewalling Koa in Zeke’s presence. I ‘a‘a nō i ka lā o ka ikaika—he can be daring until he meets someone stronger.

  They met in Zeke’s office. The cocky little press aide strutted in like a nēnē, a Hawaiian goose, and, like the beautifully feathered bird, Koa figured he was 60 percent fluff.

  Watanabe stared accusingly at Koa. “I assume we’re here to talk about the scandalous leaks to the press.”

  “No,” Zeke informed him. “You’re here to answer our questions in a murder investigation.”

  The man tensed. “Maybe I should retain a lawyer?”

  “That’s your choice, Mr. Watanabe,” Zeke responded. “Hilo’s a small town with a chummy bar. I can recommend someone if you’d like.”

  The message was subtle, but Watanabe wasn’t stupid, and Koa sensed him evaluating the risk of a newspaper story about the mayor’s press aide showing up at the prosecutor’s office with a lawyer. “I think we can proceed. I have—”

  Koa was sure that he’d been going to say, “nothing to hide,” but the little snake apparently thought better of it. Protestations of innocence, Koa knew, often shielded guilt.

  “Mr. Watanabe,” Zeke asked, “do you have an economic interest in the Hualālai development around the KonaWili school?”

  The man bristled. “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Do you know anyone who does?”

  “I’ve heard that Howard Gommes owns it, but I’ve never seen any legal ownership documents.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Have you heard of any other owners?”

  “Wouldn’t that be hearsay?” Watanabe tried playing lawyer.

  Zeke wanted none of it. “Answer the question, Mr. Watanabe.”

  “No.”

  Zeke turned to Koa. “You want to take over.”

  Koa had planned his questions to give Watanabe every opportunity to make a false step. “Have you ever been to the Monarch bar?”

  “That’s the hole-in-the-wall dump down by the port?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Watanabe shook his head. “It’s not my kind of place.”

  Koa disliked evasions, especially from this little weasel. “I asked you, Mr. Watanabe, if you’ve ever been there.”

  Watanabe stiffened. “I may have been. What’s it to you?”

  “When?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  Koa leaned forward invading Watanabe’s personal space. “Maybe about three weeks ago. Does that refresh your recollection?”

  Watanabe tried to look nonchalant. “Not really.”

  “Mr. Watanabe,” Koa asked, “do you know Ralph Leffler?”

  Watanabe’s facial muscles twitched and the mole on his check bobbed before he answered. “I … I don’t think so.”

  “I think you do, Mr. Watanabe. You met him in the Monarch bar about three weeks ago.”

  “I don’t remember that,” Watanabe snapped.

  Koa laid a picture on the table—the photograph taken during Zeigler’s surveillance of Leffler. It showed Leffler and Watanabe sitting at a corner table in the Monarch. Koa tapped Watanabe’s image. “That is you, isn’t it?”

  Watanabe’s face grew pale, making the black mole on his cheek more prominent. He stared at the photograph, obviously trying to think of a way out of the box he’d built for himself. His hands trembled. “Un-huh.”

  “What did you and Leffler talk about?”

  “Uh … uh, a private matter.”

  Koa forced himself to chuckle. “Really. What private matter?”

  “I … I don’t want to discuss it.”

  Zeke started to speak, but Koa waved him off. “Let’s see if I can guess. You found out Leffler killed people and had access to unregistered guns.”

  The blood drained from Watanabe’s face and neck, leaving his skin with a yellowish tint. His trembling became a pronounced jitter.

  Koa continued, “You wanted Boyle and Witherspoon eliminated so Leffler agreed to fake Boyle’s suicide and execute Witherspoon, all for forty thousand dollars.”

  Watanabe opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. After a second, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “We know Leffler did the killing, and we’ve recovered the forty t
housand dollars.”

  “It … it …” Watanabe stuttered, then paused. Finally, he got the words out. “It … it didn’t … didn’t happen like … like that.”

  “Really?” Koa said, enjoying the man’s distress. “Tell us how it did go down.”

  “He … he ca … call … called me,” Watanabe stuttered before catching his breath. “He threatened to hurt me if I didn’t meet him at the Monarch.” The words came out in a torrent. “Otherwise I’d never go there. It’s a nasty place.” Watanabe took a deep breath, almost like gasping for air. “He told me he’d be alone at a corner table.”

  “And what happened at the corner table?” Koa demanded.

  “He said he knew where I lived, and he’d kill me if I didn’t get the KonaWili investigation shut down.”

  But for Leffler’s hit list, Koa wouldn’t have believed him. Koa’s own name on the list meant someone wanted to stop the investigation at all costs. And the conditional threat to kill Watanabe could explain the question marks after his name on Leffler’s list.

  “Why didn’t you report the threat to the police?”

  Watanabe looked down at his hands, and his voice dropped to just above a whisper. “I was afraid. He’s a big brute with a scary scar, and he had a gun.” Watanabe looked up. “You have to believe me. That’s what happened.”