Paradise Crime Mysteries

by Toby Neal

  She scooped the fragrant noodles out of the deep plastic bowl with her chopsticks and spoon. Jenkins gave up on the chopsticks, never having mastered them in his short year in Hawaii, and wrestled the noodles into a squared-off traditional spoon with a fork. When they’d both made some progress, Lei settled back a bit, wiped her mouth.

  “So interesting about the missing guy. I found his stuff. All his stuff.” She filled Jenkins in on her discovery. “And the real estate owner ID’d the number on the back of the card as the old code for the vacation rentals that were hit.”

  “So he was involved. Foul play or suicide?”

  “Don’t know. I’m going to read through the journal and letters, see what I can pick up about his state of mind. Weirdest thing about this was the shoe with the stones the girlfriend brought in. Can’t help thinking it was some sort of message, and I want to check the missing persons database when we get back to the station, see if there have been any other disappearances. How’s the alarm company on the burglary case?” Lei took a sip of Diet Coke.

  “Small-time outfit.” Jenkins chased a strip of egg around with his spoon, gave up and slurped the broth by picking up the bowl. He set it down. “They say they changed the codes on all the houses for Paradise Realty, and nothing’s happened since they did. The security systems were turned off by someone who had the codes at the time of the burglaries.”

  “Yeah. Lehua Wolcott at the realty company suspects Island Cleaning, who took care of the homes. She believes Lisa Nakamoto, the owner, has a drug problem. Alika Wolcott, her son, was worried about her too, said he can’t get ahold of her.” Lei pushed her notebook over to Jenkins as she took her last bite. “Now we have to see if there’s some sort of connection between Island Cleaning, Lisa Nakamoto, and Jay Bennett.”

  Jenkins perused her notes. “Hm. I wonder if the ‘ice’ investigation the Lihue detectives are working on is going to end up overlapping with this one. They’ve been saying there’s enough traffic to show we’ve got a major producer somewhere on island.”

  “Well, let’s drop in on Island Cleaning and see whether or not they’re really clean.”

  Jenkins rolled his eyes, but they hurried to settle the bill and get on the road. Lei, used to working with her older, more sedate partner, Pono, on the Big Island, was still sometimes surprised by Jenkins’s willingness to jump in with whatever her latest idea was. It gave her pause to realize she was the more seasoned of the two of them.

  They pulled their cars up twenty minutes later at a shabby false-fronted storefront on a side street of Kapa`a, in the area that hadn’t been face-lifted for tourist foot traffic. Lei got out of the truck and went to look in the locked glass door, but couldn’t see through the peeling, mirrored windows. The Island Cleaning sign above the building, of the plastic illuminated variety, was turned off.

  Jenkins knocked once, twice, three times, while Lei walked to the side of the building and looked down the narrow alley. Three aluminum trash cans sat on the cracked asphalt outside of what must have been the back entrance. She gestured, and he hurried after her. Weeds pushed up through the cracked cement around their feet as they listened for several long moments at the rusting metal back door.

  Jenkins shook his head. “No one here.”

  One of the old-fashioned galvanized lids had blown off. Several empty Sudafed boxes had her gesturing Jenkins over to where sealed black plastic bags bulged with bulky garbage. Lei ripped a bag open; it was filled with empty muriatic acid and yellow HEET gas-line antifreeze bottles. What would they need gas antifreeze for in Hawaii?

  Only one reason.

  She looked at Jenkins wordlessly, and they opened the rest of the trash cans. More empty blister packs and bottles of ammonia cleaning agent filled the other bags.

  Lei speed-dialed Fury Furukawa while Jenkins went to the opening of the alley to keep a lookout.

  “Island Cleaning in Kapa’a,” she said when Fury answered. “Possible meth lab. We have discarded production supplies. Come over and check it out.”

  She and her partner drove around the block to park where they could keep the building under surveillance until Furukawa and the senior detectives arrived. It didn’t take long. Fury drove a tricked-out GTO, black with a silver flake and a lightning bolt down the roof. Kenzo and Henriques came together in something only slightly less flashy, a yellow Camaro.

  Real subtle and low key, Jenkins observed sourly via text message. The Lihue detectives had been hazing Jenkins for months before Lei got to Kaua`i; now the rivalry continued as the more experienced detectives blocked them from interesting cases.

  The radio crackled into life. “Come in Ginger 4 and 5, this is Hilltop 2.” Fury’s call sign.

  “Ginger 4 here,” Lei answered.

  “Looks empty,” Fury said.

  “Check trash cans in alley—contents consistent with meth production.”

  “Copy that.”

  Arizumi, aka Flea, a very tall Japanese and Fury’s partner, got out of the Mustang and sauntered into the alley. He looked into the first can, prodded about. Looked back to the cars and nodded.

  The radio crackled again. “We’re going to surveil this building and put in for a warrant on the Drug Enforcement Agency fast track.” Fury referred to the quick warrant procedure used for suspected drug production. “I’m gonna leave the boys here, hope one of the iceheads comes back. Let’s debrief at the station.”

  “Copy that.” She hung up the radio and drove by the other vehicles, giving a little finger wave. It felt damn good to beat the arrogant veteran detectives to a major break, and it looked like she was going to get to work a real case. Finally.

  “Thanks, Jay Bennett,” she whispered. “I’m gonna find you no matter what.”

  Chapter Four

  Jenkins stole a stale doughnut from the pink box on the conference table as short, muscular Detective Sergeant “Fury” Furukawa folded his arms and gave Lei a good stare out of hard brown eyes. Flea, his sidekick, collapsed his angular length into one of the chairs around the Formica table. The industrial-gray walls were lined with whiteboards on one side, citations on another, and inspirational posters touting connections and teamwork in between. Lei wasn’t feeling either from Furukawa.

  “I told you to bump any and all information relating to narcotics to me and my team.”

  “Obviously we didn’t know we were going to find a meth lab, Sergeant. We’re working our burglary case and went there to look for Lisa Nakamoto, the owner of the company.” Lei filled in the content of the interview with Alika and Lehua Wolcott. “They seemed to think the cleaning company was responsible and that Lisa is in the thick of it. Seems like we should find her, bring her in for an interview at least.”

  “Okay. We’ll take it from here.”

  “What about finding and interviewing Lisa?”

  “I said we’ll take it from here.”

  “But this relates to our burglaries. Let us look for her today.”

  “She’s now a suspect in a meth production lab. Don’t you think that’s bigger than a burglary job she probably pulled to get cash for her operation? Like I said, we’ll take it from here. Find another case to work on, and we’ll let you know when we bring Nakamoto in. I’ll let you question her.”

  Jenkins must have seen the fire in Lei’s eyes because he put his hand on her arm, squeezed.

  “You got it, Sergeant. We’re just glad we had a good lead.” He hustled Lei out and back to their cubicle. Lei flung herself into her office chair and did a few spins.

  “I can’t stand his attitude. I’m burnt on this whole thing. Just when a case gets interesting…”

  “Wasn’t it you who said we were paying dues?” Jenkins asked. “We just have to keep showing up and doing good work. They’ll trust us eventually.”

  “Yeah, well, at least we get to keep working the Jay Bennett thing, even if the case crosses with Fury’s. I think I’ll get started reviewing Bennett’s journal and letters.”

  “Want s
ome company?”

  “No, thanks. I need to clear my head. I’m going to take them back to the evidence room and work on them there. Can you do some searches for missing persons? Maybe go back five years or so?”

  “Why? What’re you thinking?”

  “I don’t know. Just something my gut is telling me. I mean, Bennett could be a suicide or someone related to this burglary grabbed him, or it could be something else. I’ll do it if you don’t want to.”

  “Okay, Sweets, since you asked nice.”

  “Just Lei. Please.” She poked him in the shoulder. “And thanks for helping me keep quiet in there. I feel like Fury’s looking for an excuse to make trouble for me.”

  “He’s an ass. Besides, what are partners for?”

  Lei handed each item from Jay Bennett’s backpack over to Clarice, the evidence clerk. Clarice Okamoto took her job seriously, squinting through rhinestone cat’s-eye glasses at her computer screen as she listed the items Lei described on the inventory sheet and signed them in. Lei loaded everything but the journal, folded letters, stones, and slipper into the box Jenkins had started and carried it back into the climate-controlled little room.

  She put the box away on one of the shelves and switched on the overhead light to study the remaining items at the little steel table. She looked into the depths of the room stacked high with the debris of crime, and a sudden wave of claustrophobia had her putting her hand into her pocket, touching the smooth black stone and taking a deep breath in through her nose, out through her mouth, as she had learned in therapy. She still needed to use those tools, though the intensity of her posttraumatic stress symptoms had abated a good deal since the Big Island.

  Still, sometimes Lei really missed her shrink.

  She’d done therapy for a year with the unconventional Dr. Wilson, a psychologist who worked with the Big Island PD after the case she’d worked on activated suppressed memories from her childhood. Lei hadn’t had the time or the motivation to find anyone new on Kaua`i.

  It wasn’t protocol, but it couldn’t hurt to study the items somewhere comfortable. She shoved them into a plastic ziplock and pushed her way out of the close space.

  “Working at my desk,” she said to Clarice, and painstakingly signed out the items in question. She hustled out of the building and headed for home.

  Evening was turning Hanalei golden as Lei drove around the narrow curve of road descending into the valley. She never failed to catch her breath over the postcard-worthy view: a rugged green triptych of mountains bisected by waterfalls rising steeply above a lush green patchwork quilt of taro fields, the shiny dark snake of Hanalei River winding through it.

  Keiki, her big police-trained Rottweiler, greeted Lei ecstatically with much happy butt waggling and greeting woofs as she pulled up at the little cottage on the river toward the back of the valley. Lei unlatched the gate and climbed the sagging steps onto the painted porch of the square, tin-roofed cottage, a relic of a time when such cottages housed entire families. She patted the dog, giving her a chest rub.

  “Glad I’ve got you keeping an eye on things, girl.” Keiki pressed her broad forehead against Lei’s leg in reply. Lei jiggled the key in the lock. The cottage was so old it was difficult to secure. She’d put sturdy hasps on all the windows and double locks on the doors. Still, it was frighteningly easy to break into—the wood splintery and aged.

  Above all, Lei needed to feel safe in her home. Though isolated on the long one-lane road, the landlady’s family lived in an adjacent house and anyone trying to stake out her place would be obvious. The cottage had what she needed: a wire-fenced yard that went all the way around the house, so no one could approach without Keiki sounding the alarm.

  Unless, of course, Keiki was out of commission. She shuddered at the memory of her dog’s injuries last year in the course of a bizarre conspiracy centered around Lei’s family, a case that had broken open memories from her past.

  Lei fixed herself a glass of pale chardonnay and a bowl of carrot sticks, taking them out onto the back porch with the journal and letters from Jay’s backpack. She took a minute to enjoy the view: a lush flowering tree shaded the fenced yard, just big enough for Keiki to run around in. A thick lawn rolled down to the shiny green skin of the river, snaking between banks of buffalo grass. On the opposite bank, a raft of hau bush dropped bright yellow, cup-shaped blossoms into the water, spinning in invisible currents.

  Her landlady, an elderly widowed Filipino lady who lived nearby with her extended family, said it was a good thing the riverbank had that steep slant to it “cuz da river she flood plenny every year.”

  The metal hasp on the journal was locked, but it was a simple mechanism. Lei poked around with a paper clip until it gave. The pages were filled with flowing, elegant script, not quite what she’d expected.

  July 1

  The beginning of my voyage. I put here my hopes, my dreams, my discoveries. I’ve always wanted to do this, just shake the dust of that boring little town off my feet, the idea that success is wearing a suit and selling cars or houses, pimping that mythological American dream.

  It appeared that Jay Bennett had left Clovis with the clothes on his back, his sleeping bag, and a dream. He’d hitchhiked and panhandled across the state. The entries were spotty but cogent, revealing intelligence and a reflective nature. She flipped through the journal to where he’d arrived on Kaua`i, only six weeks ago. It was now near the end of October:

  September 16

  The air here is soft. It touches the skin like walking through a cloud. I can feel my pores opening. Everywhere is color, and if color were sound the world would be filled with music. People are generous. Most of them will tell me something helpful, like where the post office is, or what kind of food malasadas are (Portuguese). I rotate between the parks on the North Shore so the cops don’t kick me out for not having a camping permit…

  The last entry was from the day before yesterday, marked by a punch-holed Frequent Smoothie Shopper card from the Health Guardian, a natural foods store in Kapa`a.

  October 19

  I’m getting letters from Kelly through the general delivery. I hate it when they come; but I love it too. I can’t stop myself from reading them again and again. I’ve folded each one in a special way so I can remember which one it is. I have the time to do things like that.

  Her voice is like a foghorn echoing across the miles, calling my name and warning me away at the same time. I know if I listen to it I’ll go back to that stifling little town with its box stores and exhaust fumes, Mom and Dad trying to get me back into the dealership—everyone relieved Jay’s “hippie phase” is over.

  Sometimes, like tonight, when I’m lonely and all I have to eat is a can of cold beans and there’s no one to share the glory of Hanalei Bay with—the moon kissing the water full of stars—I think I’d better just go home.

  I could bring Kelly here for our honeymoon and stop looking for what I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever find.

  Lei found herself blinking back tears.

  She closed the journal, looked up and out toward the bay where Jay Bennett had last been seen. His writing was vivid and alive. She felt like she knew him already, and this last entry sure didn’t seem like a suicide note.

  She couldn’t get over the dread seeping into her, a profound conviction that he was in serious danger if not dead already. Sunset stained the sky behind the sculpted outline of Bali Hai Ridge in the far distance as a few hau bush blossoms spun lazily in the current of the river. A mosquito bit her, a surprising little sting, breaking the spell. She smacked it and went into the house.

  She called Jenkins while pulling a couple of burritos out of the freezer.

  “Yo.”

  “J-Boy, lose the mainland slang. Listen, did you pull anything together on the missing persons? I’m getting a really bad feeling about Jay Bennett.”

  She peeled the plastic off the burritos and plunked them into a glass dish, splashed salsa over them, and put the dish in
the microwave for three minutes.

  “Yeah. I printed up a bunch of the reports, the last five years of disappearances. There’ve been a lot, when you consider our remote location and only sixty-five thousand year-round residents on the whole island.”

  “Well, I read the guy’s journal and I don’t think he’s a suicide.”

  Lei took a sip of her chardonnay and sat down at the little Formica table. Keiki padded in and flopped theatrically at her feet, exposing her belly for a rub. Lei used her toe to scratch the dog’s tummy. The last rays of the sunset slanted through the window and caught in her wineglass. She spun it between her thumb and forefinger, watching the ball of light bounce around in the golden liquid.

  “Anyway, he seems like…well, a sensitive guy, a thinker. Not the druggie I initially took him for. More like a seeker.”

  “Frickin’ hippies,” grumbled Jenkins. “Finding themselves on the public dole.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me about hippies on welfare, but I think this guy had some family money; didn’t seem that type. Bennett had a girl and a family trying to get him to come home, and he was basically deciding to go back. I haven’t read the girlfriend’s letters yet.”

  “I did printouts on the last five years of missing persons.” He yawned. “How about I give them to you tomorrow?”

  “Guess that’ll have to do. See you.” She closed her phone. The microwave dinged—her dinner was ready.

  Lei took the letters out of the ziplock bag after she ate. Each one was folded carefully, some in origami shapes. She opened the topmost one, careful to preserve the creases so she could refold it.

  Dear Jay,

  I’m getting on with my life like you told me to. I go to work in the mornings, and I walk Chester, and I have dinner with my parents on the weekend, and I talk to my girlfriends on the phone.