Paradise Crime Mysteries

by Toby Neal

  “You’re too short,” he said, bending over, smoothing her body with long strokes. She felt him learning the shape and feel of her.

  “You’re too tall,” she said, straining upward to reach his neck with her mouth. He pushed her back and lifted her up onto the counter. She wrapped her legs around his waist, rubbing against his jeans.

  Hungry to feel the roughness of his chest against the curves of hers, she unbuttoned his shirt, sliding her hands in around his waist, stroking the contoured muscle. He made a low noise and whispered in her ear, kissing and nipping as he peeled her shirt off over her head, pausing to look at the bandage on her collarbone with a grimace.

  He kissed the bruises on her torso gently. His tongue was a balm as he bent her back over one arm, his other hand caressing her. Lei closed her eyes and gave herself over to the waves of sensation pooling in her lower body, need stabbing almost like pain. Everywhere his mouth and hands touched felt like it was being healed, coming alive.

  She sat upright again, keeping her legs tight around his waist as she trailed her fingertips and tongue over all she’d longed to touch and explore: the hollow of his throat, winged line of his collarbone, the tender whorl of his ear.

  When neither could stand it any longer he carried her to the bed. The last of their clothes came off and passion made him clumsy with the condom, but when he slowly moved into her, cradled in the frame of his arms, she felt something entirely new.

  Safe.

  It was a long time later when she raised herself on her elbow.

  “I didn’t know I could do that,” she said wonderingly. “Or that you could do that. Whichever.”

  He lay as though felled, but a rumble of laughter came up from somewhere deep.

  “Told you I’d make you scream.” He’d whispered it in her ear in the kitchen.

  “I did not.” She smacked his shoulder.

  “Ask the neighbors,” he said, his eyes still shut but a little smile on his mouth. She tugged a bit of chest hair but he only rolled over.

  “C’mon. Dinner’s ready,” Lei said. The smell of her aunt’s cooking had filled the house.

  She washed up and pulled on her old kimono before padding back into the kitchen and dishing up the meal. Stevens appeared in the doorway, clad only in his jeans. He gave a jaw-cracking yawn.

  “If I wasn’t so hungry I’d have stayed in bed,” he said, finding a wine key in one of the drawers. He splashed the pale liquid into a pair of jelly glasses as Lei set their full plates on the table—steaming kalua pig slow-roasted in an underground oven, rice, and limp, overcooked green beans. He prodded these with his fork.

  “You distracted me,” she said, picking up her glass. “To my aunty’s cooking.”

  “I’ll drink to that.”

  “So.”

  With dinner over, he refilled their glasses.

  “I love presents,” Lei said. She pushed her dishes aside and pulled the sturdy molded plastic gun case over.

  “You were lucky. They only had one left.”

  She popped the clasps and opened it. Nestled in the gray foam was the clean, matte black shape of a new Glock .40.

  “Oh,” she said, sighing, “so pretty.”

  She took it out, checked that the magazine was removed, racked the slide a couple times to make sure the barrel was empty, and dry-fired it, disengaging the slide and setting the grip, slide and firing pin mechanism in a neat row.

  Stevens watched, sipping his wine as she got up and brought a small zippered carryall to the table out of one of the drawers. She took a moleskin rag and rubbed each piece of the gun; padded a steel rod with a cloth patch and rammed it back and forth in the barrel; and lightly touched the top four points of the slide track with gun oil, polishing the excess off. She blew the interior of the grip out with compressed air. Her movements quick and economical, she reassembled the gun, racking the slide a couple more times just to hear the smooth snick it made, dry firing and enjoying the fat muffled click of the trigger. Grinning, she turned to him.

  “I love this gun. Nothing works for me like a Glock.”

  “Works for me too,” he said, hooking her neck to pull her into a kiss that left the Glock dangling, forgotten, from her hand. “That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered.

  The crowing of wild roosters heralded the morning. Mynah birds squabbled in a nearby mango tree and wafting plumeria perfume tickled her nose as Lei misted her orchids, savoring being in her little backyard and the well-being that filled her body in spite of its injuries.

  The orchids were a little dry and leathery, but they looked like they would recover from the brief stint of neglect when she’d been too distracted to care for them. Keiki sniffed around the edges of the yard, checking the perimeter.

  “Good morning.”

  She turned, mister in hand, and smiled at the sight of Stevens in the doorway, a mug of coffee in his hand and jeans riding low on his hips. It was a replay of a scene not long ago, one she’d been too distracted by Mary’s death to appreciate.

  She didn’t realize she was still staring until he came down the steps, set the coffee on the orchid bench and kissed her thoroughly.

  “You can’t look at me like that without paying the price.”

  “Okay,” she said meekly, and let herself be led back inside. It was the first time she remembered ever being meek, and it felt damn good.

  Later, Stevens got out of the shower, sighing as he toweled his hair.

  “I hate to go to work,” he said. Lei watched him from the rumpled bed. He put on his low-key aloha shirt, chinos, a pair of tan running shoes. Threaded his belt through the loops, holstered his weapon, clipped his badge on, pocketed his cell phone and wallet.

  “Duty calls,” he said. “Get some rest.”

  She continued to watch, fascinated by the brisk, economical movements. He put his hands on his hips.

  “You okay?”

  “Can’t remember ever watching a man get ready for work before.”

  “You telling me this is your first morning-after experience?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Damn. I got to be sure to do things right then,” he said, and crawled across the bed to kiss her some more. She was still smiling when the door clicked shut behind him.

  Chapter Forty-One

  That afternoon, Lei held her arms straight out, the new Glock level, sighting down the barrel. Fortunately her trigger finger was on her good hand. She squeezed and shot out the center of the hanging target in a circle of neat round holes. Both the kickback and report were more than she remembered, and her broken wrist thumped a protest.

  Screw physical therapy, she thought. This will strengthen my wrist just fine, and boy, do I love the practice.

  She lowered the weapon, expelling the empty clip, ramming in a full one. Felt a tap on her shoulder, turned. It was Ray Solomon from class, hazel eyes crinkled in a smile behind clear safety goggles.

  “Hey, there.” She pried up the soundproof earmuffs, dropping them around her neck. “Howzit going, Ray?”

  “Hey, yourself. Where you been, girl?” He gave her a brief hug, pointed to her cast. “Problems?”

  “Long story,” she said. She holstered the Glock. They exited her booth into the foyer area. “Didn’t know you came here to shoot.”

  “Not many places besides here,” Ray said. “Hilo Gun Club’s the only show in town. So what’s the story?”

  “Tangled with a perp.” Lei shrugged. “I’m on recovery leave.”

  “Hope he got the worst of it.”

  “No worries there. So what’s new?”

  “Not much. Still trying to get on the force. Can you put in a word for me? I’ve got an interview with Lieutenant Ohale next week.”

  “Maybe.” She cocked her head. “Anything I should know about your shady past?”

  “No.” He laughed deprecatingly. “I got busted selling weed as a senior in high school. They decided to make an example of me, sent me to juvie for 6 months.
”

  “That’s too bad. Learned your lesson, did you?”

  “Of course.”

  “So where you been? Haven’t seen you at class lately.”

  “Family problems. Had to work some things out.” She wished she could see his eyes, but it was hard to tell behind the safety goggles. “Hey, I’m about done. Want to get something to eat?”

  “Thanks,” Lei said, “but I just put in another clip. I’ve got to get in at least an hour. I’m so rusty.”

  “Some other time.” He swung his equipment bag up onto his muscular shoulder. “See you around.”

  “Bye.”

  She watched him go, frowning a little as he brushed out through the double doors of the firing range and crossed the parking lot, heading toward a charcoal-dark Toyota Tacoma.

  No way. Another dark Toyota truck?

  Her heart slammed against her bruised ribs. Oh yeah, she’d killed the guy, and it wasn’t Ray Solomon.

  He looked back as he climbed into the cab and she quickly bent over, pretending to be tying her shoelace. She then ran to the window and looked at the license plate as the truck pulled out, memorizing it and taking her cell phone out of her windbreaker pocket.

  “Pono. You at your desk?”

  “Yeah. What’s up?”

  “Can you run a plate for me? HLMGH44.”

  “Just a minute.” She heard keys clicking. “Ray Solomon, age twenty-six. High school record for dealing in California—nothing current.”

  “Would that keep him off the force if he tried to become a police officer?”

  “Probably. It’s a felony conviction at age seventeen. Looks like they gave him maximum sentence. What’s this about?”

  “Not sure. Ran into him here at the firing range.” She put her finger in her ear against the muffled thump of shots from the soundproofed booths. “He’s in my Criminal Justice class. He’s asked me out a couple times, and he’s just—a little off.”

  “You got the stalker though. Not every guy in a dark Tacoma is a criminal, sister. Sure you don’t need to go see Dr. Wilson again?”

  “Already did. Never mind.” She shut the phone abruptly. Her gut was out to lunch on this one. She went back in to use up her ammo.

  She put Keiki on her leash and set off on an afternoon walk, her cast stabilized in the sling the doctor had sent home. The straps from the sling and the holster rubbed uncomfortably and her stride was slow as she made her way down the block, keeping her casted arm clamped over the gun and handling the leash with her good hand. Leaving the gun home had somehow seemed like a bad idea.

  The prevailing wind that usually blew Kilauea Volcano’s belching smoke out to sea had changed direction today, and thick ‘vog’ had settled over the town, a gauzy haze that softened the edges of everything.

  She went along her favorite route beside the Bay, watching the mynahs hopping on the grass of the park. The light breeze clattered through the leaves of the coconut palms, a soothing harmony with the hushing of waves against the rocks. She found a place to sit on the jetty, perched on a boulder. Keiki gave a sigh and settled her big square head on her paws, watching the restless, turquoise water.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she dug it out with her good hand. It was an unfamiliar number.

  “Hello?”

  “Lei? It’s Wayne. Your dad.”

  “Oh, hi.” Long pause. She remembered she had given him her number. She stared, unseeing, at the foaming surf. It was weird hearing his voice after so long, weird that he could just call her—and yet not unwelcome.

  “What happened with the Changs?”

  “Oh yeah.” She’d forgotten about that. “The stalker was somebody else. He came after me, and...I killed him.”

  “What, seriously? Are you okay?”

  “Few bumps and bruises. Broken wrist. But he got the worst of it.” She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the memory of Jeremy Ito’s ruined eye, the wire rising out of it.

  “Thank God you’re all right. Well, I guess that was a dead end then.”

  “Yeah.”

  Awkward silence. Finally he said, “I’m glad nothing I did had anything to do with you getting hurt. I was really worried about it. Those Changs are bad news.”

  She nodded. Remembered he couldn’t hear that and tried to speak but nothing came out.

  “Well I just thought I’d follow up. I don’t expect you to say anything. Just know I—miss you.” He hung up.

  A criminal, flawed, he was still her dad. He missed her. That felt good.

  That reminded her to call Aunty Rosario, whose exclamations and machine-gun questions took up the whole walk home. Love and family. Sometimes it was just a pain in the ass.

  “Hey Lei!” Tom Watanabe came up his driveway toward her, his brow furrowed.

  “Hey, Tom.”

  “What happened to your arm?”

  “Tangled with a perp.” She was beginning to like her brush-off line.

  “I’m worried about you. Can you come in for a minute and talk?”

  “Okay. Just for a minute.” It was time to get this over with anyway, she thought with an inward sigh.

  “I’m sorry, maybe I forgot to mention it, but I have a cat. She’ll freak if Keiki comes in.”

  “Okay,” Lei said, and made the big Rottweiler sit. She tied the leash around the railing of the porch. She went in through the minimalist gloss of his front room, following him into the kitchen. He ran a glass of water from the refrigerator filter and handed it to her.

  “It seems like there’s a lot of drama going on. You sure you’re okay?”

  She set the water down on the granite island without drinking it.

  “The stalker thing is over, so yeah, I’m okay. Just need to recover. Listen, I don’t think I’ve been fair to you.”

  He smiled, a baring of teeth.

  “Oh, here it comes. The part where you tell me, ‘let’s just be friends.’”

  “I guess. I like you, just not...that way.”

  She reached for the glass of water.

  “Sure I can’t change your mind?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just not interested.” Lei set the glass down with finality.

  “It’s too bad, you know,” he said conversationally.

  “What do you mean?”

  “That you won’t give me another chance. I could’ve helped you.”

  “Helped me? I don’t need help.”

  “Really? The way you lock yourself in, like that’ll keep you safe? The way you run like you could get away? The way you carry a gun just to go for a walk?” He gestured to the bulge under the thin windbreaker. “It’s pathetic. All your efforts, and you couldn’t catch someone who might be just trying to show you how vulnerable you are, that you need somebody.”

  Lei pushed away from the counter. He was blocking the door of the kitchen.

  “I don’t have to listen to this.” Her heart thudded as she put her hand on the Glock. “Let me out. Now.”

  “Your loss,” he said. He took one step to the side. She edged past him, backing out through the house, but he didn’t follow as she went down the steps and untied the dog. Her cell rang, a jarring vibration as she jogged toward her house. She transferred the leash to the hand with the cast and dug it out of her pocket.

  “Hello?”

  “You sound out of breath.” Stevens.

  “Running,” she huffed.

  “Sure you should be doing that with your bruised ribs and all?” His voice was sharp. The question made her realize there was indeed a stabbing pain in her side, one she had been ignoring since she’d left her house. She slowed to a walk.

  “Probably not.”

  “Thought we could go on a real date tonight.”

  “Okay.”

  “Such enthusiasm. I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something nice.”

  “I’ll see what I’ve got.” She closed the phone and concentrated on getting home and locking the door behind her.

  Chapter Forty-Two
>
  They sat at a corner table of the Banyan Tree, Hilo’s finest dining restaurant. The oceanfront view reflected gleaming torches on the water. Stevens raised his glass of expensive chardonnay.

  “To new beginnings and a real date.”

  Lei clinked her glass against his. She sipped the crisp wine. It still hurt to smile, and her ribs ached from running. Her thoughts spun like confetti.

  “You look beautiful.”

  “That’s what you said when you picked me up.” She’d anchored her hair on top of her head, leaving curls dangling. Her ears were heavy with the unfamiliar weight of glowing Tahitian pearls, Aunty’s graduation present. She wore her only dress, a tropical print wrap that hugged her lean curves and managed to cover the bandage on her collarbone.

  He reached for her good hand, stroked the back of it.

  “Something’s wrong.”

  “No.” She pulled her hand away. “Everything’s wonderful. Thanks for doing this.”

  “Cut the crap, Texeira. What’s up?”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t want to ruin our first date.” He watched as she took a fortifying gulp of wine. “Some stuff happened today,” she said.

  “Like what?”

  “Had the ‘let’s be friends’ talk with Tom Watanabe, and he didn’t like it.”

  “Nobody ever does.”

  “No, but he said some things that made me think ...maybe he’s been up to something. I’m probably just being paranoid.” She fiddled with her napkin, smoothing it, avoiding his eyes.

  The waiter came and gave them a pause as they ordered. The minute he left, Stevens turned to her again.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said maybe someone was just trying to show me I needed help, needed someone to look out for me.”

  “Asshole.”

  Lei sneaked a glance over at Stevens’ bunched jaw and tight fingers on the stem of his wineglass.

  “I also met a guy from class at the gun range. He was a little off too.” She pulled on a curl and it wrapped around her finger. “I’m sure Dr. Wilson would say I’ve got some post trauma stress or something.”