by Toby Neal
“Excellent. I hope you do, sooner rather than later,” Omura said. “Nunez, do you have anything to report?”
“Just confirmation that the blood sample retrieved from the carpet in the Sea Cloud’s stateroom matches that of Chaz Kaihale,” Nunez said. “And an ID on the second male we retrieved with a cut throat—Perry Castanela, the captain of the Fleece. In my professional opinion, the perp who killed both captains, from the angle and depth of the cuts, was likely the same doer.”
“We need to get these pirates before they strike again,” Omura said, shaking her head. “Dismissed.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lei met Stevens in the shower at their house forty-five minutes after the meeting. The walk-in tiled shower room was one of Lei’s favorite things about their place.
She was relieved to be home, even if it was just for a break. She felt sticky, and filthy, but that was nothing compared to the brownish stain on Stevens’s chest—he’d been wearing a clean shirt at the meeting, but Gutierrez’s blood had soaked through and dried on his skin.
Blood was like that—it always wanted to stick.
Thank God he’d rescued that poor woman. Lei wetted herself under the extra-large, rain-style showerhead as Stevens soaped up.
“Are you still mad at me?” Stevens asked.
“Not after what you said in the meeting. Here, let me get your back.” She squirted gel into a loofah. He turned and braced his arms on the wall. She stroked the rough organic sponge over his long back and tense glutes, enjoying the deep sigh of pleasure he gave. “How about you? Still mad?”
“No. My manhood was bruised, but as you can see, it’s made a recovery.” He turned to face her, grinning wickedly. “My turn.” He took the loofah from her hand
Lei smiled and shut her eyes, enjoying the slippery-rough feeling of the soapy scrubber moving over her skin, around her curves. “My. Aren’t you thorough in making sure I’m clean.”
He dropped the loofah, drew her close, and slid his hands up and down her slick body. “I’m one of the best there is at getting into every nook and cranny.”
She laughed, smacked him. “Oh, that’s just terrible.”
“But you love it.”
“I definitely do. Thank God the Captain gave me time to go home and rest. I think we can sneak in an extra half hour alone. But I absolutely need a real nap before I go back into town to meet with Gerry and Abe about the case.”
“I can make a half hour work,” he replied. “Get to the bedroom, woman.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Rosie whacked Stevens with a stuffed animal. “Hey, Baby Girl. Show your dad a little mercy.”
Rosie giggled and hit him again, then crawled away across the king-size bed, trying to get him to chase her.
After leaving Lei napping peacefully in their office at the back of the house, the only adult sanctuary with a functioning lock on the door where they could always be sure of privacy, Stevens had gone and fetched Rosie from Ellen and Wayne’s. Stevens had given his daughter her bottle, and they’d both fallen asleep on the big bed that took up most of the master bedroom.
He glanced at the clock—hours had passed. Kiet would be home from school on the bus soon. Lei must be in Kahului already, bringing Gerry and Abe, her new partners on the case, up to speed.
Rosie sat back on her padded bottom and slapped her plump thighs. “Dada!” She was getting impatient. “Chase!” It was her favorite game.
“Rowr,” Stevens growled, rising up slowly, pawing the bedclothes as he rose to all fours. “I’m a big hungry lion, and what do I see? A tasty, yummy little girl.”
Rosie shrieked with delighted mock terror. She turned to slide off the mattress, toddling full speed out of the bedroom.
Stevens roared theatrically, and groaned a little too, as he pursued his daughter down the hall. His muscles were stiff from the exertion of earlier in the day, and he was still fighting a headache. Chasing Rosie down the hallway, he was guiltily relieved he didn’t have to go back to work until he was cleared for duty again. Was he burning out?
Best to just enjoy this moment.
His daughter would only be a baby for a little while. He’d been through enough to know that these days would never come again, and each one should be savored.
Conan, familiar with this game, got up from his dog bed in the living room and stood, blocking the front door and adding excited barks to Rosie’s high-pitched giggles. Stevens chased the tot around the couch, finally catching her by a leg, then swinging her up into his arms to blow a kiss on her round little belly as she wriggled and squealed. “Phew, Baby Girl, I think someone needs a diaper change.”
“No!” Rosie yelled authoritatively. “No diaper!” No was her new favorite word.
“You’re supposed to be two years old before you start saying ‘no’ all the time,” Stevens said, tucking her, arms and legs kicking, under his arm. “You can have a gummy bear if you lie still and let me change you.”
“Bear!” Rosie yelled. “No diaper!”
“That’s not how it works, babe. Good girl diaper change, THEN gummy bear.”
The next fifteen minutes were a blur of shrieks, wiggles, and wrestling, until finally the fresh diaper was on. Rosie wailed and cried, throwing a tantrum, and he put her in her crib with a frozen washcloth to chew on, and shut the door on her angry shrieks.
“And just that fast, the sweet goes sour,” Stevens told Conan. The dog gazed at him with a worried wrinkle on his broad forehead. “I think we need a book on raising a strong-willed child. Kiet never threw a fit like that in his life. And for what, I ask you? Getting her diaper changed, like we’ve done ten times a day since she was born?”
Conan whined and lay down, his eyes darting from side to side, clearly stressed by the conflict.
“I feel ya, man.” Stevens walked past the Rottie. The familiar urge for a drink, an urge he had beaten every day since he got back from that ill-fated trip to Honduras, tugged at his guts. He walked to the fridge, got out a non-alcoholic beer, popped the top, and sipped. “At least it tastes like the real thing.”
His phone, plugged in on the sideboard, buzzed. Stevens picked it up, frowning at the sight of Queens Hospital in the display window. “Lieutenant Stevens here.”
“Lieutenant, hello. This is Dr. Rappaport, Soga Matsumoto’s surgeon.”
“Yes, Doctor. Hello.” Stevens’s mind scrambled—where were they on finding Soga’s care facility? Had Lei been working on something, or had this urgent bit of family business fallen through the cracks?
“Your wife’s number went to voicemail, so I called yours,” Dr. Rappaport said. “Soga is doing well, post-op, but we’re running out of time here at the hospital. Has your family lined anything up for him? We are planning his discharge tomorrow.”
Stevens’s heart rate jumped—this was a disaster! Poor Soga. Not only had none of them been able to fly to O`ahu and see him through his rehab, they hadn’t finalized plans for his care. He and Lei had been caught up in the pirate case to the exclusion of everything else. “I’m sorry to tell you, Doctor, that though we’ve tried, we haven’t been able to line anything up. There’s a dearth of those kinds of facilities on Maui. Do you have a social worker or someone who can help us?”
“Arranging aftercare is not a part of our responsibilities, Lieutenant. Family is the first line of support for elders. Yes, we have a social worker, and she’s been apprised of his situation. Soga’s lucid, but mobility is an issue. He could fall and reinjure himself if left alone, and he’ll have follow up appointments to get to.”
“I understand that. What time is the discharge planned?”
“Let me get his chart.” Dr. Rappaport rustled pages in the background.
Maybe being off the case was perfect timing after all. Stevens walked down the hall to the kids’ room and opened the door. Rosie lay on her back in her crib, sucking on the frozen washcloth peacefully, watching her mobile. She sat up as soon as the door opened, and held up
her arms. “Dada!”
“Good. No more tantrum,” Stevens murmured, and scooped her up, the phone plastered to his ear. “You’re learning to calm yourself down. Great job, Rosie.” She offered him the mangled washcloth, pressing it against his lips for him to suck on too. “No thanks, sweetie.”
“Soga Matsumoto will be discharged tomorrow at eleven a.m.,” Dr. Rappaport said. “We’ll call him a cab at the curb to take him home if no one is there to accompany him.”
“Someone will be there,” Stevens said. “Thanks, Doctor. We take our responsibilities seriously regarding Mr. Matsumoto. He’s my wife’s grandfather, and he has no one else. We know we need to come up with something. There are just a lot of demands on my wife and I.”
“Preaching to the choir,” Dr. Rappaport said, and hung up.
Stevens set Rosie on his hip and slid the phone into his pocket. “We need help, little girl. Time to call for reinforcements.”
Rosie batted long, damp lashes at him, and rested her cheek on his shoulder. Stevens smiled and kissed her forehead. “Yeah, you’re a handful all right. But you’re my handful. And so is your great-grandfather, Soga.”
Stevens turned on the sprinklers after Kiet got home from school, and put both kids in their bathing suits. Kiet hauled his sister in a red wagon back and forth through the water as Conan chased them, while Stevens trimmed some of the overlong hibiscus bushes around Wayne and Ellen’s cottage.
Wayne had returned from work an hour or so before and immediately gone in for a shower and a nap in front of the TV, his late afternoon ritual after cooking at his restaurant for two shifts. Eventually he emerged, coming out on the little porch, carrying two old-fashioned Cokes in bottles.
Wayne had a face with high cheekbones, seamed lines, and the same brown eyes Stevens recognized on his wife, only deep-set. Curling hair, now more salt than pepper, skimmed his shoulders, and he wore a faded Aerosmith tee and jeans with holes in the knees. Wayne Texeira looked a lot like Carlos Santana.
“Why aren’t you at work?” his father-in-law asked, handing Stevens one of the frosty bottles.
Stevens took it, and drank. “Thanks for this.” He turned to keep an eye on the kids as they played. “I’m on leave until they clear me from a fatal shooting on our latest case.”
“Oh, that pirate thing? Nasty business. Saw it on the news. Don’t like the way they edited that video to seem like the guy got shot for no reason.” Wayne shook his head and seated himself on the top step of his porch. “I never believe what I see on the news.”
“Well, thanks for that, but the basics shown in the video are true. I did shoot the guy.” Stevens sat beside Wayne on the step. “It’s actually a good thing I’ve got some time off. There’s a situation I need to talk to you about.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lei settled herself in one of the hard plastic chairs beside Keone Nisake’s hospital bed. The kidnapper’s shoulder was heavily wrapped and a handcuff circled his good arm, holding him to the bed. He wasn’t going anywhere—though his sweating face and darting eyes told her he wished he could.
“My name is Sergeant Leilani Texeira, and this is my partner, Detective Abe Torufu.” Lei gestured to Torufu, looming in the doorway, cleaning his nails with a combat knife roughly the size of a machete. “We’re here to do your official interview of the events of yesterday.”
“I asked for a lawyer,” Nisake said. “You can’t talk to me without him here.”
“Well, there you’re mistaken.” Lei smiled. She’d been told her smile was not always friendly when aimed at a perp. “We can question you at any time, and it’s your right to remain silent. But, to respect your request, we’ve called for a public defender. That said, it’ll be worth your while to help our investigation, and your cooperation will go a long way in deciding what charges we bring.”
“I want my lawyer present,” Nisake insisted, plucking the coverlet nervously.
Torufu put away his knife and advanced to perch on one of the chairs beside Nisake’s bed. “We have an offer for you. An offer that will expire when the lawyer gets here.”
A pause as Nisake considered. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. “What’s that?”
“Reduced charges in return for telling us who you work for,” Lei said.
“What am I being charged with?”
Lei made a show of consulting notes on her phone. “Hmm, let’s see. Conspiracy to commit murder, murder in the second degree, kidnapping, rape, piracy, resisting arrest, attempted murder of law enforcement officers, and human trafficking. You won’t see the sun for a very long time, my friend.” Lei met Nisake’s eyes, and smiled again.
Nisake cringed. “I didn’t do any of that!” His voice raised in fright. “I mean, okay, yeah, I helped move the women, but nothing else. I had nothing to do with anything else, I swear!”
“You’ll have your day in court to prove that,” Torufu rumbled. The knife was out again. Now he was trimming his cuticles with it. Evidently, the blade was very sharp.
“I want the deal. I want the reduced charges!”
“We can go as low as conspiracy to commit kidnapping and human trafficking,” Lei said. “If you cooperate. Tell us all you know.”
“Okay, okay. Do I have to sign something?” Nisake swiped the sweat off his face with the back of his arm. “I want to be sure I’m covered.”
“We’ll draw something up after we find out how valuable your intel is,” Torufu said.
Just then a knock came from the door. A pretty young woman in a short skirt and perilous-looking heels stood there, frowning. “Hello. I’m Ms. Fogarty, court-appointed representative for Mr. Nisake. An interview is in progress that has not been cleared with me. Mr. Nisake, not another word.” Fogarty minced forward and glanced around for a chair. “Where do I sit?”
“I don’t believe you do,” Lei said.
“They offered me a deal and I want to take it,” Nisake exclaimed. “Reduced charges in return for my testimony.”
“Detectives, clear the room please. I’d like to speak to my client privately,” Fogarty said. “And any agreements we come to must be presented in writing or we won’t consider them. I’ll call you when we’re ready for your interview.”
Lei eyed the man on the bed with contempt. “Your lack of cooperation is duly noted, Mr. Nisake.”
“Yeah. You’ll be sorry you hid behind this lady’s skirt. What there is of it,” Torufu added.
Fogarty held her ground, staring at Nisake and clearly willing him to shut up, and he did. “I want to speak to my lawyer alone.”
Lei and Torufu withdrew to the hall and shut the door. “Just when we were getting somewhere,” Torufu said.
Lei shrugged. “He wants to talk. Better we don’t give them any grounds for appeal in future, anyway.” She rubbed her stomach. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Let’s go to the cafeteria and see what they’ve got down there.”
She and Torufu went downstairs to the Maui Memorial dining hall. Lei glanced at the clock overhead as she got in line with doctors, nurses, and crumpled-looking hospital visitors.
Six hours had passed since she left home after sneaking a peek at Stevens and Rosie, asleep in their big bed: the baby on her tummy, padded butt in the air, thumb in her mouth, tucked up against Stevens’s side as he slept in his usual position—one arm bent with a hand beneath the pillow, the other arm down, encircling the baby.
She’d taken a phone picture so she could enjoy that precious sight again if needed, and had sneaked out past Conan and gone straight to the station. She’d met with Gerry and Abe, gone over the case file, and then sicced Gerry on catching up with the Coast Guard’s search progress for the Golden Fleece, while she and Torufu went to interview Nisake.
Lei reached the ordering area, smiling at the server behind the glass shield. “I’m hungry! I’ll have Big Local Special.” The attendant filled a sectioned cardboard tray with two scoops of white rice, a pile of scrambled eggs, a mound of sliced, fried Por
tuguese sausage, and a half a papaya with lime. Lei took the mounded plate. “Mahalo.” She slid it onto her tray and moved to the cashier. “Looks so ono,” she said, handing over payment.
“Bumbye, you finish all that, get plenny energy for work,” the cashier said, grinning.
“Fo’ sure.” Lei carried her tray back to a corner. Torufu joined her with an even bigger platter of breakfast, and they dug in.
She took her refreshment where she could get it, and this breakfast was likely to be the last meal she’d have for a while.
Stevens called Lei on his way to the airport, using his Bluetooth because of Maui’s cell phone ban, but his wife didn’t pick up. “Hey, Sweets. I know this is the worst possible time for this, but isn’t it always? Your grandpa is being discharged and can’t go home alone. I know you don’t have time to deal with it, so I roped your dad and my mom into taking care of the kids and Conan for the moment. I’m on my way to O`ahu to arrange for a caregiver and bring him home from the hospital at eleven a.m.” Stevens wove around a tourist rental car as he passed Ho`okipa. A windsurfer board was listing dangerously off to one side, held onto the bright red Ford Focus’s roof with temporary straps. He honked and gestured to the driver to pull over. “Anyway, sorry for that noise, some lame tourist is about to lose his board and cause an accident. I asked Wayne if he could be the one to go to O`ahu, etcetera, but he said he knew Soga would prefer me. Soga’s bound to be feeling vulnerable.” He downshifted behind a pineapple truck, enjoying the rich smell of the ripe fruit through the Bronco’s open window. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m taking initiative here. I know you’d rather be doing this yourself, but someone has to deal with it right now, and the case needs you right now. Call me back when you can and I’ll update you.” He ended the call.