by Toby Neal
Lei went to the cubicle. Two new files were on her workstation; she booted up her computer as she leafed through them. One was a report of a possible meth lab near the junior high, the other a questionable disappearance of a passenger off the cruise ship in Kahului Harbor. The responding officer had almost immediately bumped it to the detectives since the passenger’s home address was Haiku.
Lei was on the phone with the guest coordinator of the Rainbow Duchess when Pono returned, stone-faced. He didn’t boot up his computer, just picked up his lunch box and jacket and headed for the door. She let him go without comment.
The passenger, one Robert Simmons, had been taking a honeymoon cruise with his new wife. They’d just returned to Kahului after a “great week at sea,” where they’d apparently been physically affectionate enough to have drawn the attention of other passengers—but when they went to leave the ship, the bride had been unable to locate the groom.
Lei corroborated the details and made an appointment to see the ship’s staff and the wife first thing in the morning, then closed up the workstation. It was four p.m. by then; she had just enough time to swing by Kahului Station on her way home and question Silva about his hooker comment.
She called Pono’s phone as she drove into town, but it went to voice mail.
“Sorry about the black rooster, Pono. She’s a bitch, but the lieutenant had a point about where the birds will end up. Listen, meet me at the Rainbow Duchess dock tomorrow morning at eight; we have a missing passenger to follow up on. I’m interviewing one of the dudes we busted who said something about Jane Doe.”
She folded the phone shut and slid it into her pocket.
Lei had Silva brought out of the general holding cell and escorted to an interview room by Gerry Bunuelos, one of the detectives at Kahului Station. Bunuelos had agreed to sit in and assist. He escorted Silva in, clipping the man’s handcuffs to a ring on the bolted-down steel table.
“Don’t know why I need all this.” Silva spread his hands wide. “I went to a cockfight. So what? I’m not a criminal.”
Lei sat in the aluminum chair across from him and tried for good cop.
“Standard procedure. Sorry, buddy.”
“Well, my wife is on her way, so hurry up with this—whatever it is.”
Good cop wasn’t a fit, Lei decided.
“You said this girl was a hooker. Why?” She pushed the eight-by-ten glossy print of the girl’s face over.
“I just said she looked like the type, with that fake red hair. Girl like that. . .” He shook his head.
“Girl like that, what? Deserves what she got?” Lei felt heat roar up the back of her neck. “This girl was just that—a girl. She was a teenager. Whatever she was, she didn’t deserve to die like this.” She pushed a full-length, unretouched shot of Jane Doe’s mangled body over to Silva, who recoiled. “Take a good long look—buddy.”
“Hey, man, I’m sure you didn’t mean any disrespect by that,” Bunuelos chimed in, picking up the good cop thread.
“I didn’t. I didn’t!” Silva cried, looking ill as his eyes refused to look away from Jane Doe’s hamburgered midsection.
“Guy like you has needs, right?”
Silva’s head bobbed. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh.” Then he seemed to realize what he was saying and shook his head. “No, no, I’m married. Happy married man.”
“So you go to hookers now and again. You ever see her? Lahaina, maybe? She with a massage company or something?” Gerry sounded so sympathetic that Lei narrowed her eyes at him.
“No. No needs. No hookers.” Silva seemed to be withdrawing into himself, still shaking his head.
Lei smacked the photo with her open hand. The loud crack made him jump and look her in the eye. She kept his gaze with sheer willpower and meanness. “Tell me. I just want to find out who she is. You won’t be in trouble, I promise.” The velvet of her voice contrasted with an implicit threat.
Silva rested his head on his cuffed hands, closed his eyes in surrender. “I saw her once. She was in a lineup.”
“What do you mean, lineup?”
“Like, when you pick a girl. For the night.” His voice was just a whisper. Lei pushed the tape recorder closer to pick it up.
“Where was this?”
“Miramar Hotel.” A classy place, the Miramar had been open since the 1970s. It was an elaborate Moorish-style Lahaina landmark.
“What’s a guy like you doing in a place like the Miramar?” Lei’s voice dripped contempt.
“Construction wrap party. We finished a job, and the owner had us all there to celebrate. He ordered up what he called ‘room service.’ She was in a lineup, like I said.”
“So you recognize her. Sure you didn’t do more than that? Does she have any special features, distinguishing marks?” Lei wanted to know if he knew about the butterfly tattoo. Silva shook his head, sweat pearling across the top of his lip.
“No. I never saw nothing. She had on a little white robe. They all did.”
“White? That’s odd for a hooker.”
“It was shiny white stuff, you know, like satin. They’re a classy outfit. I mean, according to the owner. He said he was ordering the best. Since we’d made his dream house come true, he was going to make some of ours come true, too.”
“So what did you have?”
“A blonde. She was older.”
“Right. Older. Okay.” Lei tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice but failed. “Anything interesting about these whores beside the white robes? Anything you remember?”
“The girl I was with. She had an accent.”
“What kind?”
“How should I know what kind?” He finally showed a little spirit, clashing the cuffs against the table. “I wasn’t there to talk to her.”
Lei paced as Bunuelos took over.
“Anything else stand out to you about that evening?”
“No. Is my wife going to find out about this?” He glanced nervously at the closed door.
Lei let an evil grin move across her face. She had a wide mouth with a lot of teeth, and Stevens had said her evil grin gave him bad dreams. “I don’t know. Anything your wife should know?”
“I told you everything. I can’t stay in here. I have a health condition. . .” Silva degenerated into a whine.
“So we need your boss’s name. The guy who threw the party.”
“He can’t know I ratted about the whores!”
Lei smacked the table again. “Shut up and focus. You get no promises. You don’t deserve any until you give us something we can use.”
Bunuelos put his hand on her arm. “Settle down, Detective. The man only did what anyone would do when presented with that kind of opportunity.”
He winked where Silva couldn’t see it. Lei whirled up and paced again. Bunuelos turned back to Silva.
“We’ll do what we can. No reason your wife needs to know anything but that you got picked up with a lot of other guys at the cockfight, and the contractor won’t know who told on him about the hookers. We aren’t trying to bust anybody for that—we just want to find out who this girl was.”
“John Wylie. He’s a pretty big developer, does a lot on the west side of Maui.” Silva hung his head. Sweat rings marked his armpits in the dusty shirt. Lei wrote down the first note she’d taken for the interview on a pristine yellow pad she’d set beside the tiny recorder.
“So what do you know about who organized the cockfight?” A stab in the dark but worth a try now that she had him talking.
“Nothing. I don’t know nothing! I got a text with the date and time like everyone else!”
“Someone sends the texts, keeps track of who’s fighting their birds, who’s attending. Someone organizes these things.”
“I don’t know anything real. I swear. But I hear it’s a guy on Oahu who gets a cut. All the owners who put birds in the ring pay a fee to him; he’s the ‘house’ you can bet against, and somehow the ‘house’ does better than most.”
“That’s gamb
ling for you. So what do they call this guy?”
Silva looked up. “My wife could leave me over this. You think it’s a good idea for me to get two in the head, too?”
“C’mon, quit being such a drama queen. This is Maui. No one rolls like that around here.”
“You just never find the bodies.” He looked down, shook his head, his voice a whisper of defeat. “I don’t know anything worth anything. He’s called the House. That’s all I know.”
“Oh. Didn’t realize that was his handle.” She gave a nod to Bunuelos, who unclipped the handcuffs from the ring. “Thanks, Mr. Silva. We appreciate your cooperation. Now, was that so hard?”
“You sure my wife won’t find out? She’ll just leave me in here if she knows. . .”
“You gave us a name, so we’re square. Couple of names, in fact. But we know where you live.” Lei did the grin again.
He nearly ran out of the room, followed by Bunuelos. Lei collected the recorder and notepad and followed him out. Stevens was waiting in the hall. Her heart gave a familiar thump at the sight of him.
“Michael!”
Lei knew Stevens was ever aware of setting a good example in front of the men, so while not keeping their relationship a secret, they weren’t advertising it either. The echoing linoleum hall was empty, so he leaned over and gave her a kiss, a hard stamp on her mouth that left her wanting more.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were here? I caught about half your performance from the gallery.” The back wall of the interview room was two-way glass.
“Sorry. I was in a hurry, wanted to get to the interview before Silva got released.” They walked side by side toward the main work area. Lei slid her hands into her pockets, familiar guilt irritating her. She seldom remembered to do the right girlfriend shit, like calling him. She turned to him with a bright smile. “Well, it’s time to head home. Want to go get something to eat on our way?”
“We can hit Ichiban. I have to shut down the workstation first.”
“I’ll meet you there; just want to wrap things up with Bunuelos. He was a big help.”
Stevens peeled off to the left, and Lei went onto the main floor, a typical government maze of soundproofed cubicles in industrial gray with the occasional “inspirational” print to liven things up. Bunuelos met her at his cubicle after releasing Silva. He gave her a high-five.
“You have a gift. Silva is totally paranoid now. He was practically peeing himself.”
“Good. Maybe he’ll keep it in his pants now. What a scumbag, so worried about his wife finding out.”
Bunuelos’s partner, Abe Torufu, came in. Lei had noticed the contrast between the two of them from day one—Bunuelos was a wiry Filipino with the build and energy of a rat terrier, while his partner loomed, a slow-moving Tongan mountain. Torufu sat down on his chair. The overwhelmed equipage squealed and moaned, but held.
“Well, I’m off for the night, but I just wanted to thank you for helping me out. We got some names to follow up on, and that’s huge. I’m crazy to know this girl’s name.” Lei tapped the folder with the photos.
“A pleasure. Interesting case. Keep me posted on it, and if you need any help, let me know.”
“You and Stevens a thing?” Torufu asked, spinning his chair in her direction, a toothpick protruding from between Chiclets-sized teeth.
“Uh. Yeah.” Lei felt a blush prickle her hairline. “Is there a problem?”
“No. Just explains it; that’s all.”
“Explains what?” Lei put her hands on her hips.
“Nothing.” Both of them turned to their computers.
“C’mon, guys. Really. He a bad boss or something?”
“No, fine; it’s all good.” They’d become very intent all of a sudden, eyes on their monitors.
“Okay, then. Bye.” Lei shook her head as she left.
“Lemme know if you need me,” Bunuelos called after her again.
“Will do.” Lei hurried down the hall. She didn’t have time for male mind games. Japanese food sounded delicious, and the sooner the better.
Stevens was already seated at the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant minutes away from the station. He’d ordered a Kirin for her, which she sipped while perusing the menu. They chose tempura and teriyaki beef, and when the waitress left, Lei bounced and wiggled a bit in her seat.
“Got a good lead. The name of a guy who hired a company that provided the girls. Our Jane Doe was one of them.”
“I know. I was there for that part,” Stevens said dryly. “I like your bad cop. Nicely done. The smacks on the photo were a tad theatrical, but they worked.”
“I shouldn’t enjoy it so much, but damn, that guy was so gross. I mean, can you see him with some poor little teenage girl?” She shuddered. “I wanted to put the fear in him so bad he can’t get it up for a hooker ever again.”
“That’s the world we live in. Nasty people doing nasty shit.” Stevens rubbed his eyes with his hand. She noticed for the first time they were even more deep-set than usual, ringed in shadows. She put her hand on his on the table; he turned it up and warm energy flowed between them. They laced their fingers together. Lei felt a rush of compassion for him.
“What’s the matter?” She finally had the nerve to ask.
“Nothing really. Just getting tired, I guess. Office politics.” He still wasn’t telling her.
“Okay.” Lei couldn’t tell if the feeling she had was relief or disappointment.
The food arrived, and Lei ate with her usual focus and enthusiasm, hungry from all the exercise. Between bites, she told him about the raid, making Stevens laugh with her rendering of the irate rooster owners tackling each other with their hands tied. It felt good to hear him laugh, see him relax, the darkness around his eyes pull back a bit.
“Pono took it hard about the birds, though.” She finished the story. “He left work early—meaning on time for once. I’ve never seen him so upset. The Steel Butterfly finally got to him.”
“Watch out for her,” Stevens said. “I hear she can be a bad enemy.”
“I’m doing my best. I never speak unless spoken to. I can’t help that she thinks I’m a train wreck, though.” Lei took a sip of her beer, swallowing past the lump in her throat.
“Hey.” She looked up. His penetrating blue eyes were on her, stripping her bare. He saw past her defenses—he’d always been able to. Then Stevens smiled, the crooked flash she loved so well.
“You could take her. That’s a chick fight I wouldn’t mind seeing.”
“I don’t know. I hear she has a black belt.”
“Well, what are you up to in Tae Kwon Do? Red?”
She ducked her head. “It’s going okay, yeah.” She’d joined a nearby dojo in Wailuku and took a class twice a week. “So what’s got you so bothered? I’ve been telling you a lot about my cases. I’m not hearing anything about yours.”
“Not much to tell. They got me doing a lot of training with the new detectives. That’s not what’s on my mind, though.” He sighed. Uh-oh. Here it came—the problem he’d been holding on to.
“I’m just…wondering where this is going.” He gestured back and forth between them. “This. Us.”
“I don’t know. We’re living together and having some excellent sex? What more is there?” She tried a smile.
He shook his head. “I just feel like we’re…not going in the same direction. Maybe it’s that I’m older, got this promotion, starting to build something here that I know I won’t want to leave. I don’t get that feeling from you. You’re still thinking about the FBI, aren’t you?”
“Marcella keeps in touch, yeah. You know she thinks I’d be a good agent out here because of the multicultural thing.”
“So I’m wondering, where does that leave me if you take off for the Academy?”
“Well, it’s not forever, the Academy. I’d be back. Eventually. Marcella says they’ll want to post me some places after training, so I can get some seasoning.”
“I’m not gettin
g any younger. I can’t go with you.”
“Thirty-four isn’t old.” She took his big, warm hand, bit his finger, and laid it against her cheek. “My biological clock’s not even wound yet. We’ve got plenty of time.”
He pulled his hand away. “You’re not the only one with a biological clock.”
He reached into his pocket, set the little black velvet box on the table between them.
“Dammit, Michael, you promised you wouldn’t do this to me again.” Tears prickled the backs of Lei’s eyes, and she blinked rapidly. “You know this freaks me out.”
“I need something, too. I need to know we’re going to be together. If I know that, I can wait. I can tell myself, someday she might be ready to settle down—have a family.”
“I can’t make those kinds of promises.” Her heart had begun thundering, blood roaring, claustrophobia bringing blackness around the edges of her vision. She pinched her leg through her jeans to anchor herself.
“Then I’m thinking I need to get this over with. I can’t put my life on hold forever, hoping you’ll be…ready for more.”
“Isn’t what we have enough?” Her throat seemed to close, strangling words to explain. Their relationship was perfect to her; it was all she wanted. She loved what they had—the little house, runs with Keiki, leisurely weekends having adventures or making love all afternoon. Why couldn’t that be enough for him?
“I love you. I love what we have.” He must have seen the panic in her eyes, because he took both her hands, rubbed the palms and then the backs with his thumbs, touch keeping her in her body. “I just want that and to know we’ll always be together—and throw in a couple kids someday, too.”
She closed her eyes, did some relaxation breathing, feeling the calm his touch brought. His thumbs caressing the thin skin of her wrist, the pulse point of her blood, seemed to be the only thing that meant anything. Panic brought on by her inadequacies, his possible abandonment, and the use of the word “kids”—all gradually receded. After a long moment, she opened her eyes and found herself looking into his—eyes so blue they held bits of white like stars. Those eyes reflected everything he felt, always had.