by Toby Neal
Bunuelos ran up. “You’re alive!” Her smaller partner threw his arms around Lei in a big hug. Water oozed out of the vest like squeezing a sponge.
“Help me get this off,” Lei said, and he did.
Torufu pointed to the soaked tee Bunuelos had pulled off over her head. “That’s how I saw you on the rocks. Could hardly hear you calling.”
“Glad you gave it to me, then, Gerry.” Lei’s teeth chattered. Her hand came up to touch the medallion—and she gasped. “The pirate gold is gone!”
“Now that’s a line straight out of a B movie.” Captain Hiro had arrived with the negotiator in tow. “You did good, Texeira. Glad you’re in one piece.”
“Decker wanted you to shoot him,” Lei said, still patting her pockets. “Once he knew he’d been made, he committed suicide by cop.” Was the Pirate King’s medallion really gone? “I think we should dive for that medal. It’s evidence.”
“We can ask the Coast Guard, but we don’t need it,” Bunuelos said. “We’ve got plenty to close this case, with the pirates and Keo Avila in custody.”
“Okay,” Lei said, but she was still scanning the rocks and the black water for the necklace, missing its weight around her neck. “That medallion had something about it. Maybe it’s better that it’s at the bottom of the ocean.”
“I’m glad you lost that thing.” Bunuelos shuddered theatrically. “Bad juju.” He kissed the rosary around his neck and crossed himself. “I felt it the minute I saw it.”
“Have Stevens buy you something pretty now that this is all over,” Torufu chimed in. “I agree. That necklace is better stored in Davy Jones’s locker.” His big square teeth flashed. “I’ve always wanted to say something like that.”
“With Kabo gone, we’ll never know where the pirate gold came from—because dead men tell no tales.” Lei tried to keep a straight face. “Think I got you beat with a cheesy line, Torufu.”
Torufu snorted, and Bunuelos rolled his eyes. “Let’s get home before one of you grows a peg leg or an eye patch.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Two days later
Lei knocked on the door of Dr. Caprice Wilson’s suite at the Maui Beach Hotel, a no-frills older establishment blocks from the police station in Kahului, for her post-shoot debrief. She smoothed her curls, frizzing from the wind and humidity, and smiled as the psychologist opened the door.
“Hey, Dr. Wilson.”
“I see this is one of those occasions when we’re not on a first-name basis.” Dr. Caprice Wilson gestured. “Come into my office for the day.”
“I always feel like I should call you that when we’re working.”
“Not a bad way to keep our boundaries in place,” Dr. Wilson agreed. “I’ll call you Sergeant Texeira, then.”
Lei put her hands on her hips and surveyed the suite. “This is nice.” A rattan couch and loveseat formed an L facing a glass-topped coffee table. A wet bar and a desk held up each side of the room, and a pair of sliders framed a view of the hotel’s pool surrounded by well-groomed palm trees, with Kahului Harbor in the background. The day was overcast and blustery, so the pool’s surface was wind-ruffled, the palms gyrated, and the area was pleasantly empty. “I’m glad to be meeting here rather than at the station.”
“Why do you think I do it this way? I’m contracted to perform psychological assessments and counseling services for the police department, but I’m not an employee. Sure, I could use one of your departmental interview rooms with its bad chairs, ugly lighting and smell of fear, but I like to set myself up for good results.”
Lei smiled. “Works better for me too.“
Lei took a spot on the loveseat. Dr. Wilson sat kitty-corner to her on the couch. She produced a clipboard. “I’m going to take notes, but as usual they will be vague. This is your formal shooting debrief from the incident on the Big Island.” Dr. Wilson’s clear blue eyes met Lei’s. “What do you want to tell me about first?”
Lei stared down at the knees of her familiar jeans. “I think I’d like to start with one of the things that has bothered me most about the case: Keo Avila, and his role in all of this. I guess I want to understand how a good-looking, bright young man from a loving family could go so badly wrong.”
“Tell me more.”
“I met his mother. Sweet lady. Said he was the product of her first marriage. She was so confused by his behavior. She said he’d shown a lack of conscience from an early age.”
“Generally, sociopaths are a combination of genetics and environment. I can tell you were impressed with his mother . . . but did she say anything about his father? And where he spent his formative years? There was probably more there than initially meets the eye. There usually is.”
Lei glanced up into Dr. Wilson’s penetrating blue eyes. “You’re right. I had the impression that he came to live with her after she remarried. But I don’t know. Something for a psychologist to explore, and I’m no psychologist.”
Dr. Wilson smiled. “You’re better than you think you are. All good psychology begins with an open mind and a curiosity about what drives people. Switching gears now. I’ve read the case file, but I’m still a little fuzzy on the details of the Pirate King and Avila, and how they fit together. Tell me about that dynamic.”
“From what we can gather, Kabo was a Somalian foreign national. He was wanted in his home country for piracy. He was also a contract killer, advertising his services on the Darknet and trying to expand his business. He bought property on the Big Island under his shell company, and came over, supposedly setting up a boat tour business. Avila has filled in more details in return for further concessions, and has told us that Kabo reached out to Harold Chang, who was doing a nice little side business trafficking runaway youth out of Kahului Harbor. Harold smelled expansion, and put him together with Avila.”
Lei paused, gathering her thoughts, and went on. “That turned out to be a very bloody partnership. It was Avila’s idea to market Kabo’s activities to the public as a sort of vigilante justice Hawaiian warrior. He coached Kabo on the culture and the costumes, but it’s actually Avila himself in the viral Pirate King video, because Kabo’s skin tone and accent would have given him away as a fake.” Lei got up, feeling agitated, and paced back and forth in front of the sliders. “Then, with Avila’s help, they recruited some gullible young men as their crew. When those young men were apprehended by the Coast Guard in our raid, they all testified that, after they took down the first ship and saw the level of violence, they tried to rebel and escape. Keo and Avila beat them into submission.”
“Sounds like what old-time sailors used to endure. They kidnapped young men for crew, a process called press-ganging.”
“Exactly. Avila says he never meant for things to get so out of hand, that he couldn’t rein Kabo in. He knew that the level of violence was going to ‘bring too much heat’.” Lei made air quotes with her fingers. “But at no time did Avila show any remorse for what they did to the men by brutally murdering them, or for what they did to the women.”
“That young man’s a psychopath, all right. Kabo was, too.” Dr. Wilson shook her head. “I’m sure you’re wondering how the Peterson girls are doing. Joanie has a long way to go, but her mother is surprisingly resilient, and the other two are making progress. They all, along with Ms. Gutierrez, have gone to a special trauma recovery program in Switzerland . . . on Ramsey’s dime.”
“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that. I haven’t been as involved with the victims from the Golden Fleece, but I hear they are making progress too, with a special program at Tripler Hospital.” Lei sat back down. “Yeah, John Ramsey and his attack of conscience were the turning point in understanding what was driving the choice of targets that the pirates went after.”
“That brings me to Commander Decker. How did he get involved? He seems to have been key in all of this.”
Lei sat back. She took the bone hook out of her pocket and stroked its sinuous curve, enjoying the organic feel of it, the way it warmed in her f
ingers. “Decker got into it the way people usually do . . . through debt. According to the FBI’s investigation into his financials, he’d been taking payoffs from Chang for years, turning a blind eye to the human trafficking activities. He just got in too deep to get out, even when things had gone to such an extreme level. He faked the standoff in the cave in order to find out if he’d been blown—and when he knew he was, when he had that confirmation, he committed suicide by cop.” Seeing the despair in Decker’s eyes, realizing he was prepared to shoot her too in order to reach that ultimate solution—that memory felt etched into her psyche. She grounded herself by squeezing the bone hook, hard. “One of the hardest things has been seeing my friend, Aina Thomas, devastated by the betrayal of his commanding officer. I’m not sure he’s going to get past it.”
“It’s always hard when we discover our heroes have feet of clay,” Dr. Wilson said.
“We all have feet of clay. It’s just a matter of degree.”
“Would you take a bribe? Would you let criminals get past you?” Dr. Wilson’s eyes invited confession, as they always had.
The moment Lei had leaned on Avila’s wound, using pain to force out Decker’s name, was burned in Lei’s mind, too. “One of my husband’s favorite sayings is, ‘we’re all just one decision away from stupid.’ But right now, speaking to you at this moment, I can say no, never, not today.”
Dr. Wilson smiled. “That’s all any of us can ever promise. Just for today, I’ll do the right thing. But enough days of doing that will add up to a lifetime.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Two months later
Lei bent over to remove a pan of homemade cinnamon rolls from the oven, and felt a sting on her bottom. She spun just in time to see Stevens taking aim again with a dish towel.
“Hey!” She whacked him with the pot holder she was holding. “You brat! Everyone will be here in a minute, and here you are, horsing around!”
“My favorite sight ever—my wife in tight jeans, getting something tasty out of the oven.” Stevens’s usually serious blue eyes sparkled. “How could I resist?”
Lei turned back to the stove. “I know I’m not much in the kitchen, but when I put my mind to it . . . I can be truly exceptional. In any area.”
“No one will argue with you there, Sweets.”
Lei pulled out the pan of hot rolls, waving it back and forth under his nose. “I was going to let you sneak one, but now you have to wait until the Father’s Day brunch is underway.”
She set the pan on the stovetop to cool, picked up a bag of white icing, and squeezed frosting over the rolls.
Almost done, Lei chewed her lip nervously, glancing out the window to where her grandfather Soga’s brand-new tiny house was parked. The front half of the little three-hundred-and-fifty-square-foot house, mounted on a trailer, was draped with a concealing tarp, but she could see all of the tidy wooden structure clearly from her angle at the kitchen window.
She had already moved the temple statue from his front yard to stand near the entrance of his house, and had staked out an area for his ornamental Japanese sand garden. Stevens had made room in his workshop for her grandfather’s lantern making, and had shipped over his tools and materials already.
Everything was as prepared for Soga’s arrival as they could make it.
Stevens put his hands on Lei’s shoulders and squeezed. He kissed the top of her head. “Stop worrying. He’s going to love it.”
“But Grandfather hasn’t seen how small it is,” Lei said. “It’s one thing to see a picture, and to talk about it on the phone. It’s another thing for him to arrive with his suitcases, having left everything behind, and find out that this is all there is.”
“No one forced him. He said he was ready to downscale, to live close to us, to be a part of the family for as long as he had left. It’s going to be fine.”
“But maybe I shouldn’t have made his arrival into a Father’s Day event, with a brunch and all of our friends coming over. I shouldn’t have put on all this pressure. He might feel like he has to pretend he likes it . . .” Lei couldn’t seem to stop her anxious churning. She set the icing bag down with shaky hands. “I just want him to be happy.”
“I know you do, and I love you for it.” Stevens turned Lei, pressing her against him in a strong hug. “I think it’s going to be fine, but if you want to worry, you’re welcome to do that.”
Lei pulled back in his arms to gaze up at him, smiling. “You know just how to handle me, don’t you?”
“Years of study have yielded some insights, thank God.” They kissed.
A brief knock at the door was all the warning they had before Pono entered, his Oakleys on his forehead and his arms wrapped around a large red ti leaf plant in a pot. “Brought the old man some good luck for his new house.”
Lei’s longtime partner finally seemed to be regaining some of his good humor two months after the loss of his close cousin. Tiare and their two teens followed him in. Each of them was carrying a tray piled high with fresh laulau.
“Where do we put the food?” Tiare asked. “Oh, Lei, it smells so good in here. Cinnamon rolls? So ono!”
The next hour was a blur as Lei and Stevens greeted their extended ‘ohana’ of friends: Gerry Bunuelos, his wife, and their five kids; Abe Torufu and his fiancée, Captain Omura; Jared, Stevens’s brother, and his wife Kathy. Elizabeth Black, Lei’s favorite social worker, had brought over three foster boys that Lei had rescued on a case a few years before, with various girlfriends in tow. Marcella, her husband Marcus, and their son Jonas had come over for a getaway weekend, and Dr. Caprice Wilson had made it, too, on Maui after giving a training for the MPD.
The living room was a babel of talk, snacking, drinking and reconnecting as they waited for Wayne, Ellen, and Soga to arrive from the airport.
Conan gave his “friends approaching” bark and the gate beeped its opening tone on the wall monitor. Kiet ran in, vibrating with excitement, and grabbed Lei’s arm. “Grandfather Soga and Grandpa and Grandma are here!”
Lei had been holding Rosie on her hip to keep the little girl from getting into anything, and she set her down. Rosie toddled toward Kiet, yelling with excitement. “Gapaw!”
“Yeah, Gapaw is coming.” Kiet grabbed Rosie’s hand, tugging her toward the door. “Let’s show Grandfather Soga how good you’re walking!”
Kiet and Rosie led the way out onto the porch, and all of the guests filed out behind them. Talking and laughing, Lei and Stevens’s friends ranged along the railing of the house’s wide covered verandah as Wayne’s extended cab F-150 rolled up the driveway to park in the reserved spot marked by an orange road cone right next to the house.
Wayne opened the driver’s side door, and the whole crowd yelled, “Happy Father’s Day!”
Wayne threw a shaka sign, and waved. “Happy Father’s Day to all of you dads, too!”
“What a surprise!” Ellen got out of the back seat of the truck. “Looks like a party!” She opened the passenger door for Soga. Kiet, holding Rosie’s hand, approached his great-grandfather with Lei close behind.
“Rosie’s walking!” Soga only had eyes for his great-grandchildren as Ellen opened his door wider. He swung his legs around to get out, and Ellen handed him a cane. “What a good boy for helping her, Kiet.”
“Rosie wanted to show you,” Kiet said. Rosie had gone shy, plugging her mouth with her thumb as she stared at Soga. She took another step, hit a bump in the grass, and sat down abruptly on her padded bottom. Stevens scooped the baby up before tears could fall.
Lei advanced to help her grandfather down from the high floorboard of the truck. “We thought we’d throw a welcome and Father’s Day party to greet you at your new home, Grandfather.” She’d been over to see Soga on two different weekends since he’d been convalescing from his hip replacement, but she still wasn’t used to how frail he seemed since the surgery. She supported him as he found his feet on the driveway, and kissed his seamed cheek. “Welcome home. Happy Father’
s Day.”
Soga’s dark, unreadable eyes were suspiciously shiny. “You didn’t have to make such a big thing of this, Sweets.” He’d picked up using her nickname some years ago, and she loved hearing him say it.
“But we’re so honored you’ve chosen to come and live with us.” She took his arm. “Let’s go see your new house before we start the party.”
Everyone else, talking story, trailed behind the two of them as Lei and Soga walked slowly across the neatly mowed lawn.
The dwelling, covered with a tarp, appeared to be a big brown lump as they made the turn around the mango tree.
Kiet, thrilled with his special role in the surprise, ran forward and grabbed a corner of the tarp. He ran with it, pulling the synthetic fabric down and away. The tarp slithered off, revealing an adorable little wooden house on its own wheeled platform.
Everyone burst into clapping and cheering.
The metal roof was red, and so was the front door. Soga’s old brass knocker, freshly polished, gleamed against the bright color. Windows on either side of the door glittered with cleanliness, and the edge of a white curtain shone inside like a glimpse of petticoat. The house’s walls in golden stained pine seemed to glow in the sun.
It was pretty, and new, and very, very small.
Soga leaned heavily on Lei’s arm. She glanced at him, just in time to see his eyes overflow as he stared at the little dwelling.
Her stoic grandfather was crying!
Were they tears of joy, or of sorrow at what he’d given up? Maybe a little of both . . .