Paradise Crime Mysteries

by Toby Neal

  She took Stevens’ card out of her pocket and rubbed it absently as she drove, thinking about Tom Watanabe. As a water inspector he would be familiar with all of the waterways going in and out of Hilo, and with his job, his tramping around a stream or culvert would never be questioned. The black truck, while not the right make, struck her as an odd coincidence.

  She pulled out onto the highway that ran out of Hilo toward Punalu`u Beach Park. The shiny hood of the pickup caught the afternoon sun, dazzling her as she ran her hand around the ergonomically engineered steering wheel.

  Tropical jungle lined the highway: gigantic fern trees battled with royal palms, and majestic albizia trees hung with trailing vines soared over it all. The road was a wide, straight black ribbon furling to the caldera of Kilauea, the epicenter of the national park, and on through past Honuapo to Kona.

  Lei stomped down on the gas, and the engine roared back at her, leaping forward. She’d got a deal by buying the stick shift, and she whooped with glee as she put it in overdrive at ninety miles an hour. They whizzed by a few tourists and she smelled the hot stench of oil burning off the new engine and throttled it back to a sedate seventy-five.

  She thumbed open her cell in a celebratory double traffic violation.

  “Aunty!”

  “Ku`uipo, sweetheart! Whatchu doing?”

  “I’m blowing down the highway in my new truck,” Lei said. “A silver Toyota Tacoma four-wheel drive.”

  “Oh my God, girl! Whatchu doing spending that kind money?”

  “I have it, Aunty. I had plenty for the down payment, I got no credit cards and just the basic bills ...I can afford it.”

  “Congratulations, then you deserve it. You work hard enough.”

  “Thank you, Aunty,” Lei replied. Well-being filled her as she whipped around another tourist, passing with ease. Keiki swayed, her eyes glued on the road ahead, the stump of her tail twitching with excitement. They chatted a while longer and Lei snapped her phone shut. It was good to hear Aunty Rosario’s voice, there for her whenever she needed her.

  Almost like a mother.

  She tried to shut out the flash of memory: her mother reading the note and screaming like she’d been mortally wounded. She’d grabbed a wire hanger and beat Lei with it until her rage was spent, shoving the girl down the steps into the garage and slamming the door. This in itself was not unusual.

  What was different was that her mother never came to let her out.

  Two days passed in which nine-year-old Lei ate cat food, drank from the utility sink, and defecated in the kitty litter, staying warm by burrowing into the laundry pile. Eventually she got up the courage to break the little window over the sink and wriggle her way out.

  She’d found her mother Maylene Murakami Texeira slumped over the coffee table, the syringe beside her and tubing still around her arm. Her legs were askew from convulsions, her face blue, foam dried on her lips. Rigor had already gone, and when Lei shook her, she seemed to slither over onto her side.

  Lei still ached from the beating, she was faint with hunger, but worse than that, terror filled her at the thought of going to a foster home. She had already spent plenty of time in them. She ran to the kitchen and called the emergency number Aunty Rosario in California had given her.

  “Call 911, and tell them I am on my way.” Her aunt had taken the next flight out of San Francisco to get her.

  The best thing that ever happened to me was when Aunty took me to San Rafael to live, Lei thought. She pinched her arm to stop the memory and refocused herself on her current surroundings: another technique the therapist in California had taught her.

  She pulled into Punalu`u Beach Park and parked next to Mary’s red Mustang. It was good to be meeting a friend, clearing her head, going to the beach—another experience the girls would never have again. Guilt was becoming a familiar gnaw, and she found herself pinching her arm again—too hard this time.

  It didn’t help.

  Lei ran across the burning black sand and dove into the ocean. The cool water shocked the breath out of her, and she surged to the surface with a gasp. She dove again, opening her eyes. The lava pebbles covering the ocean floor made it look depthless as a black-bottomed pool and she kicked down and scooped up a handful, bobbing back up with a shake of her curls.

  Keiki swam toward her, big square head held high, paws churning. Lei tossed one of the pebbles.

  “Get it, girl!”

  The dog spun and splashed after the rock, ducking her head into the water and coming up snorting. Lei tossed another one further away. Keiki floundered after it.

  “That’s so mean!” Mary called from the beach. She sat forward in her beach chair, rubbing coconut oil onto her long brown legs. “It’s sick the way you torture that poor dog.”

  “Kinda like how you torture Roland?” Lei strode up out of the surf, adjusting her tank suit top, wishing she had a little more to fill it out. She tossed one last pebble and Keiki switched directions and splashed after it.

  “Roland loves it,” Mary said. “I never make him do anything he doesn’t want to do.” She rubbed the scented oil into her waist.

  “Same thing with Keiki,” Lei said. “She loves that stupid rock-chasing game.”

  “My only problem with Roland—he stay jealous. Always wanting to see what I’m doing.” Her cell phone chirped from the straw bag beside her. “See? He texting me, asking when I stay coming home.” She frowned, working the phone with her thumbs.

  Hawaiian guitar music tinkled from the little CD player parked on their blanket. Lei stretched out on the warm cloth with a sigh. She’d been single so long she wasn’t sure she’d want to give up her independence—it didn’t seem like a relationship was worth dealing with the demands.

  Both women jumped and squealed as Keiki shook water all over them. The big dog flopped onto the blanket next to Lei, panting, and Lei shoved her off. Maybe she was in a relationship after all.

  “You stink,” she said. “Go take a shower.”

  In response Keiki rolled in the black sand, grunting with pleasure as she worked the large grains into her coat.

  Mary and Lei hadn’t been out to scenic Punalu`u Beach for a long time. Lei decided to come more often, taking in the sun-jeweled ocean and rugged palm-dotted coastline. Only yards away, several huge green sea turtles slept in the sand, their flippers spread and necks outstretched to soak up warmth from the sun.

  Keiki finished with her roll and sprawled next to them. After a cursory sniff, she’d showed no interest in the turtles. Lei draped her arm across her eyes and dozed.

  “So anything new on that stalker note you got?” Mary’s voice woke her, and she sat up. She’d told Mary about the notes a few days ago at class.

  “Pass me the oil.”

  Mary handed it over and Lei squirted a dollop into her palm, slicked it onto her lean body and toned legs. She was too late to head off the freckles that dotted her like a sprinkle of nutmeg.

  “He came by last night, dropped another note under my door. I chased him but no joy.” She told her friend about the debacle in the neighborhood with Keiki.

  “Try solve your own problems and jus’ get in trouble,” Mary said. “I’m sorry. Like you don’t get enough stress a’ready without that stalker shit.”

  “It’s okay.” Lei tried to smile.

  “Pono won’t let you go down if he can help it. Me neither. Lot of folks will stick up for you at the station.”

  “I meet with the Lieutenant tomorrow morning. I’m pretty damn nervous. It’s like I’m cursed or something.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Shit happens to me. All my life. Something’s wrong with me that makes things happen.” The murmur of the surf and mellow slack key music failed to calm Lei’s racing heart. She felt something important almost breaking through the memory fog that plagued her. She rubbed her temples where a headache threatened.

  “What a load of crap. Shit happens to all of us. Listen, we better get going—Roland s
ays we have plans tonight.” They packed up and walked out to the parking lot.

  “Oh my God, gorgeous!” Mary said, running her hand along the contoured wheel well of the new truck. The silver paint glowed opal. “Wish I could get one.”

  “You already have a nice ride,” Lei said, gesturing to Mary’s red Mustang, a former rental car bought for a song.

  “Yeah, but this sweetheart has muscle. I like a nice truck.” She put her hands on her hips. “Want to race ’em?”

  “You brat,” Lei said. “As if you didn’t know I was already in trouble.”

  Mary laughed. “Bet I beat you,” she said, jumping into the Mustang.

  At home, Lei bounced up the steps of her little house, sorting her mail. Keiki barked from the back yard, eager to come in for dinner. She unlocked the door, deactivated the alarm, and noticed the envelope on the floor. Her pulse jumped. The stalker had pushed it under the door this time.

  She went into the kitchen and got a fresh pair of gloves from under the sink, snapping them on as she returned. She picked the envelope up by the corner and took it to the cutting board, slitting the top with a knife to preserve any evidence trapped under the flap. She eased the trebly-folded note out and flipped it open.

  A long hank of glossy black hair obscured the words on the page. Lei’s vision swam and she clutched the counter, taking a couple of deep breaths. She looked back down and eased the hair out of the way with the point of the knife.

  I’M GOING TO ENJOY YOU A LOT MORE.

  Lei felt bile rise in her throat, hot and stinging. She gulped it back, took a few relaxation breaths.

  He wasn’t going to get to her in her own home. Her eyes fell on one of her orange notes tacked over the sink: Courage is simply the willingness to be afraid and act anyway -Robert Anthony.

  I’ll act anyway. She went to the dog door and unlocked it. Keiki streaked in and did a circuit of the house as she fished the cell phone out of her pocket.

  “Pono,” she said when he answered. “He’s escalating. He might have a victim.”

  “What? Whatchu talking about?”

  “There was another note,” she said. “A big piece of black hair inside. No woman I know would let someone cut off a chunk of hair like this.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  She shut the phone and went back to the front door, putting the chain and deadbolt back on. Pono arrived shortly. He’d brought Jeremy Ito and Stevens with him. Lei introduced Jeremy to Keiki and led them back into the kitchen. Pono took a good look at her in the light, tipping her chin to look at her pale face.

  “You need food, girl,” he said, and went to her fridge, poking about inside. He held up a withered lemon and a bottle of ketchup. “Nothing in here.”

  Stevens examined the hair and the envelope at the kitchen table, putting on gloves Lei handed him. Jeremy looked on, his hands behind his back as though to keep them out of trouble, his lean young face intent. The kitchen light caught on their two bent heads, the rumpled dark of Stevens beside Jeremy’s black.

  “There’s no evidence anyone has been hurt,” Stevens said. “The hairs look like they were snipped off. It could be a clipping off the floor of a barbershop.” He slipped everything into an evidence bag.

  “I guess so,” Lei said, unconvinced. “It’s sure threatening though.” She sat down in one of the chairs. “Anyone want something to drink? I have beer.”

  “Miller Lite,” Pono scoffed.

  “Still on the clock.” Jeremy smiled, shaking his head. Pono flipped open his phone and speed-dialed the local Pizza Hut, ordering a large pepperoni with extra cheese.

  “We were heading back to the station so we’ll take this in,” Stevens said. “Pono, you going to stay a while?”

  “Got my pizza coming. You can come back by later.”

  “What the hell is this?” Lei said, mustering up some indignation. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “What’s new on the Mohuli`i girls?” Pono asked, ignoring her.

  “Still got some leads to check out off the cell phones,” Stevens said. “Lei, maybe you and Jeremy can run some of them down tomorrow. I have to do a conference call with the Oahu lab people analyzing what we sent over from the trash at the crime scene. I want to talk to all Haunani’s contacts again, see if any of them remembered anything more about this mystery man of hers.”

  “Did you think any more about the truck search?” Lei asked.

  “Nah. If we get a hit on anyone else with that angle, we’ll revisit our witness. Right now we need to shake the trees and see what falls. I’m hoping for the search warrant on James Reynolds’s house today or tomorrow. I’ll be back later to spell you, Pono.”

  “Bye,” said Jeremy as he followed Stevens out.

  Lei put the chain and deadbolt back on behind them, turning to Pono, who’d finally taken off his Oakleys and set them on the table. They’d begun to make dents above his ears.

  He rubbed his bristly mustache. “I’m hungry. That pizza better get here soon.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” she repeated.

  Pono shrugged. “This is how we look out for our own Big Island style. You think you’re the only cop to be stalked?”

  “I don’t know—I guess not.”

  “Well you’re not. One of ours gets threatened, we look out for each other. Even off the clock.”

  He went in and sat on the threadbare couch in her little living room, put his feet up on the trunk she used as a coffee table, hit the remote for the TV, and began scrolling through the channels.

  Lei flopped next to him, giving up. It wasn’t long before they were digging into the rich, stretchy goo of hot pizza. She hadn’t realized how famished she was until she felt herself begin to relax as satiety worked its way through her system. She sat back and belched behind her hand.

  “Feel better?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t know I was so hungry.”

  “Girl, you looked terrible. And to come home to this…” He rubbed a finger over his lips.

  “Thanks for coming over. I hope Tiare doesn’t mind.”

  “She wouldn’t like me sleeping over. That’s why I got Stevens doing the night shift.” He leered, looking exactly like an ominous tiki god come to life. “Play it right, you might get more than a bodyguard.”

  “Shut up.” Lei punched him in the arm. “I gotta go shower.” She hauled herself off of the couch and went in to the bathroom. Keiki followed and flopped outside the door with a whuff.

  Lei just stood for a long time under the falling water. It felt wonderful to wash off all the nervous sweat from the day, to feel safe with her partner downstairs ...to know she had some friends. She got out and pulled on her favorite old sweats from high school hanging from a hook on the back of the door.

  An hour later, Stevens rang the bell. Lei let him in. His hair was wet, and his eyes were dark with fatigue.

  “Second shift,” he said. He carried a small navy duffel.

  “You don’t have to do this.” Lei trailed him into the living room. Keiki gave his pants a sniff as he passed.

  “Good. I’m off home,” Pono said, getting up. “Don’t let her out.”

  “What do you think I’m here for? Gotta keep the vigilante locked up. Yeah, I dropped the letter and hair off and logged them in for your case,” he said, turning to Lei. “Sure wish we could get some sort of break on it, but at first glance it’s clean: no follicles on the hair, nothing caught under the flap, no fingerprints. Cheap plain envelope and computer paper you could get anywhere. It sucks, but there’s nothing.”

  “Sick son of a bitch.” Pono banged his beer bottle down.

  “What’s sick is that he’s getting away with this and there’s not a thing anybody can do about it,” Lei burst out. She began tidying the pizza debris, blinking rapidly. “I’m a police officer, for godsake.”

  “Sometimes that’s what makes you a target. I’ve seen contracts put out on officers in L.A.”

  “This isn’t L.A. and I s
houldn’t have to put up with this shit, including you guys camping on my couch.”

  “Eh then, I going see you tomorrow,” her partner said, giving her shoulder an awkward pat as he let himself out.

  “Hey.” Stevens sat on the couch. “It’s okay to be mad. Come sit.”

  Lei hunkered down in the corner of the couch and honked her nose on a paper towel.

  “Stalkers prey on your fear. Try not to let it get to you.” He picked up the last piece of pizza and took a bite.

  “It’s a kind of torture,” Lei said. “I try to make my home safe, and he slips things right in to it . . .” her voice trailed off and she hugged the couch cushion. He gazed at her, then reached out a finger and brushed a dangling curl off her forehead.

  “We’ll get him. I think this is about more than you, somehow.”

  “What? Going with your gut now?” Lei said. Immediately she felt bad, but clamped her lips shut on any apology.

  Stevens got up and went into the kitchen, getting one of the beers and opening it. He took a long drink, and Lei couldn’t help noticing the wide tanned muscles of his throat working as he swallowed. She made herself look away.

  “I guess I am going with my gut,” he said. “I deserved that.” He sat back down beside her, rolling the beer bottle between his palms. “I should have brought my sax over. I could have distracted you with some tunes.”

  “I didn’t know you played.”

  “Yeah. Not well but with enthusiasm, as they say.” He chuckled a little, rubbed his eyes which looked red-rimmed and tired. “Coming and keeping an eye on you is a helluva lot more fun than picking my mom up from the drunk tank and bringing her home. I used to have to put her to bed, sleep over to make sure she didn’t drown in her vomit or something.”

  “Shit. That why you came to Hawaii?”

  “In a nutshell. I love the job, the life, the adrenaline hit when you get the call.” He sat back, put his long legs up on the battered trunk. “But when a couple of times a week the call was to pick Mom up for drunk and disorderly, I got sick of it. She’s gonna kill herself and I’m not going to watch her do it.” He finished the beer and set it on the coffee table with a thunk. “Good thing I picked something up on the way over here. Pono didn’t leave much.”