Paradise Crime Mysteries

by Toby Neal

  “I will.” Lei hated the defeat in the girl’s eyes, the way they slid away as she turned around and put her hands behind her back. Ken moved in and cuffed her, leading her up the rocks onto the rocky red dirt of Molokai.

  Kaunakakai Police Station was a rustic building in the middle of a Western-themed town dressed in the false fronts and bright paint of that style. Wrapped in a striped beach towel, handcuffed, and seated at a battered interview table, the Smiley Bandit looked even more unlikely than she had when Lei had first spotted her.

  The other agents, seemingly unanimously, let Lei be the first to interview her. Lei set a portable video camera on the table, pointed in the girl’s direction

  “I’m Special Agent Lei Texeira with the FBI. What’s your name?” Lei’s clothes were still soaked with ocean water, as were the girl’s, but Lei held the tiny, trembling Chihuahua on her lap, and the girl’s dark eyes were on the dog as she answered.

  “Consuelo Aguilar.”

  “And…how did this happen? All this?” Lei knew she should ask better questions, but she found herself tongue-tied, unsure how to start.

  “It’s a long story.” The heavy metal handcuff looked obscene on the delicately fashioned wrist that Consuelo reached toward the dog. Angel whined and wriggled, straining toward the girl, and Lei finally set the tiny dog on the table. The Chihuahua trotted over and jumped into Consuelo’s lap.

  Lei’s earbud crackled. “Running her. No priors, aged sixteen, attended McKinley High until she dropped out this year. Work fast. Wendy Watanabe’s on the way, and she’s organized a fund to hire Bennie Fernandez. He’s sending representation.”

  Lei cursed inwardly, but a larger part of her was relieved. Consuelo would have the best defense lawyer in Hawaii. Bennie Fernandez was a cherubic little man with a Santa-like beard who wooed juries. He had been a thorn in Marcella’s side in several cases in the past.

  “I’ll let you hold the dog, but you have to give us a statement.”

  The girl’s long lashes dropped over remarkable dark eyes as she petted the dog in her lap. “It doesn’t matter anymore, anyway.”

  Consuelo’s father, Constantino Aguilar, had been an airplane mechanic working for Paradise Air for twenty years. He’d been a stickler for detail and quality, and he’d come down with colon cancer, diagnosed too late. Max Smiley had taken that opportunity to let him go, refusing his application for health-related leave and terminating his employment for absenteeism when the cancer got too bad for him to come to work.

  He’d gone home to his sister’s house and taken four months to die, during which Consuelo had nursed him.

  “And where’s your mother?” Lei asked, wondering who the girl’s guardian was.

  “She died. Hit by a drunk driver,” Consuelo said. She petted Angel rather hard, but the tiny dog’s eyes just shut in bliss. Lei’s earbud crackled, and this time Ang’s voice filled her ear. They must be piping her in from Oahu to run background.

  “Mother is Victoria Aguilar, killed in vehicular hit-and-run two years ago. Was walking with Consuelo when a drunk driver came up on the curb and ran her down.”

  Lei sucked in her breath in a little gasp, her mind filling in the details of the horror that fourteen-year-old Consuelo must have gone through.

  “Don’t feel sorry for me.” Consuelo looked up at Lei, and her eyes had gone hard and narrowed. “I knew exactly what I was doing. Max Smiley and the rest of the one percent, people who exploit others—they deserve what they’ve got coming.”

  “So you think that chip on your shoulder justifies ripping people off.”

  “I wasn’t ripping people off. I was practicing wealth redistribution.”

  “Fancy words,” Lei said. “You took a shot at federal officers. Who else have you been working with? Who is the guy in the videos?”

  The door opened, and a dapper, dark-skinned man in an aloha shirt and chinos entered. “I’m Frank Reza, Consuelo Aguilar’s temporary counsel, and she’s a minor. Please refrain from any further questions.”

  Marcella had followed him in. “We can question her, and you can be present,” she argued, hands on shapely hips.

  “Then at least let the girl get a shower, some food, and change into dry clothes. This is not humane treatment, and she’s a child.”

  “Some child! We have a right to question this fugitive until we’re satisfied we know at least the extent of her plot and network and that it’s been disabled,” Marcella said.

  “Network! Plot! You make the girl sound like a terrorist,” Reza said indignantly. Only Lei saw the way the girl’s eyes flared wide at the mention of “terrorist” before she lowered them, focusing on petting the little dog. Reza touched her shoulder, and she looked up at him. “Bennie Fernandez is on his way—I’m his Molokai associate. You’re in good hands now.”

  Lei experienced a shiver of unease as Consuelo slanted a glance over at Lei. “I’m done talking,” she said.

  And, with Reza planted at her side, it appeared she was. Marcella came in and had a crack at her, and so did Ken and Rogers. Lei finally wrestled the dog out of her arms and went outside the office, hoping that would help get her to talk—but Ken came out a few minutes later, shaking his head. “She won’t give up Rezents, where he is, what he’s doing, or even if he’s her partner.”

  “We should just check in with Wendy Watanabe; she’s probably got better intel,” Lei said a little bitterly, setting Angel down in front of a saucer of water a kindly officer had poured. The outer office door opened and Watanabe, bright as a parakeet, walked in trailing her cameraman. “Speak of the devil.”

  Watanabe spotted Lei and made a beeline across the office to her. “I hear you have the Bandit in custody.”

  “No comment,” Lei said. Ken looked inscrutable beside her, his arms folded.

  Watanabe looked down at the tiny Chihuahua, lapping water. “This is Angel, Max Smiley’s dog!” She gestured to the cameraman. “Get a shot of it!”

  The man hoisted up the camera to his shoulder and zeroed in on Angel, who scuttled up against Lei’s soaked black pants, trembling. Lei scooped the dog up and the camera turned on her, Watanabe’s microphone appearing in her face. “Agent Texeira, this dog is Angel, the Chihuahua the Smileys have reported missing. What’s the status of the Smiley Bandit? We know from Coast Guard transmissions that the Hummel went down close to shore here on Molokai.”

  “No comment.” Lei pushed the microphone away as Angel, terrified, tried to burrow into her neck. Ken turned the reporter by force and pushed her and the cameraman toward the door, gesturing with his head to a couple of officers, who assisted.

  “This is a police station and this is an active investigation. Get outside.” They forcibly put the intrepid reporter outside the building, the cameraman recording the whole thing.

  Lei could hear Watanabe monologuing on the steps. Adrenaline aftermath from the chase was setting in, and Lei sat abruptly on one of the metal chairs as Ken returned. “Did you ever line up Dr. Wilson? Because I think we should do a psych eval on Consuelo. I have a bad feeling about what’s going on with her.”

  “Yeah, soon as we transport her. We’ll take the helicopter back to Oahu and get that rolling.”

  Marcella stuck her head out of the interview room. “We’re done here for now. Let’s get her on the chopper and into a holding cell. We can have another go tomorrow.”

  Reza followed her out. “I’ll ride with her on the helicopter.”

  “No, you won’t. The chopper is not rated for civilian transport.” Marcella’s voice was crisp. “You can arrange for representation to meet us at the helipad. I’m sure Bennie can work it into his schedule.”

  Rogers led Consuelo out by the elbow, looking impossibly young and small in a set of borrowed sweats. “Pilot says the chopper is refueled and ready to go.”

  Ken ended up staying behind on Molokai to wait for a civilian flight out and oversee the retrieval of the Hummel. It was being hauled in by the Coast Guard, and Ken was to t
ake possession of whatever Consuelo had stolen from the stone castle on Lanai.

  Lei climbed into the helicopter last, carrying Angel. Consuelo sat in the farthest seat back from the pilot against the side window. Marcella and Rogers had left the seat beside her open for Lei, and she took it, checking the girl’s four-point seat belt and setting a protective helmet on her head, adjusting the strap under her chin.

  Consuelo’s head lolled apathetically, and even Angel’s excited licks failed to rouse the girl.

  The chopper lifted, weaving a little in the wind, and after climbing, drew a line for Oahu.

  “I think something’s wrong with her.” Lei’s forehead knit as she spoke into the comm. Consuelo’s eyes fluttered, and she flopped forward, held upright only by the harness.

  “She’s probably faking. Don’t let her out of the restraints,” Marcella said. Lei didn’t think the girl could fake the waxy color of her normally olive-brown complexion, but maybe she’d just collapsed from the stress of the chase. They’d given her water, but Lei wondered when she’d last eaten.

  Lei palmed one of the thin little wrists. The girl’s pulse was fast and uneven, her eyes closed and face pale. “Do you have any water? I think she’s fainted.”

  Rogers, ever prepared, took a metal canteen out of his backpack and handed it to her. Lei tried to push Consuelo’s lolling head upright.

  “Wake up, Consuelo. Water.” She tried to pour the water into the girl’s mouth, and it dribbled back out. She looked in alarm at Marcella. “Call ahead. Have Dr. Wilson meet us with an ambulance. Something’s wrong with her.”

  “Don’t unstrap her!” Marcella barked, but Lei did anyway, hitting the buckle that autoreleased the four-point harness. Marcella locked the release button on the side door, but she needn’t have bothered.

  Consuelo fell out of her seat to fold into the narrow space in front in a fetal position.

  Lei pulled the girl’s unresponsive body into her arms and held her as Rogers took out the medical kit and checked her vitals. Marcella worked the phone lining up the emergency medical services.

  The flight to Oahu felt endless as Lei held the slight girl in her arms. She found out later it had been only forty minutes. She stroked the dark hair back from Consuelo’s forehead while Angel burrowed into the girl’s side, whimpering.

  “She’s unconscious but breathing is good. Blood pressure very low,” Rogers said. “She’s probably just in shock.”

  The emergency medical technicians and Dr. Wilson, blond bob dancing in the wind from the rotors, met them at the FBI rooftop helipad. Lei found herself reluctant to let go of Consuelo as the EMTs and Dr. Wilson climbed into the helicopter to take over. Angel began high-pitched, hysterical barking and grabbed on to the navy blue pant leg of one of the EMTs. Lei caught the little dog and climbed out of the helicopter, her eyes on the still figure now wrapped in a blanket with an IV in her hand.

  “Lei.” Marcella put a hand on her arm, her warm brown eyes concerned. “She’s getting help. Dr. Wilson will assess her. We’ll make sure she’s cuffed to the hospital bed and not going anywhere.”

  Lei held the dog close, watching as they moved Consuelo onto a gurney and covered her with a tucked-in white sheet that made her skin look sallow. The girl was so thin, she barely lifted the sheet. Only her long, shiny black hair, freed from the knot she’d tied it in and fluttering off the edge of the gurney, looked alive.

  “She’s dehydrated and in shock,” one of the paramedics said, taking his stethoscope out of his ears. Dr. Wilson’s lips pursed.

  “Doesn’t explain why she’s unconscious,” the psychologist said. “I’d better ride along. I’d like to admit her to the adolescent psych unit at Tripler for suicide watch.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Wilson.” Lei smiled gratefully at her former therapist. “I’m worried she’s trying to check out on life since the attempt at ‘suicide by cop’ failed. I don’t think she wants to live anymore.”

  “Yes. Marcella told me what you were concerned about.” Keen blue eyes that had always been able to see into Lei’s soul swept her with their searchlight. “I think you’d better go get some rest, too, and a little detachment from this case.”

  “Okay.” Lei clutched the dog tighter as she turned back to Marcella and Rogers. “What’s the plan?”

  “Go home, Lei. Get a hot shower and a change of clothes. We’ll all do the same,” Marcella said. “Consuelo’s secure, but we still need to locate Rezents and Blackman—hopefully this Bandit thing was all her idea and there won’t be any further activity now that she’s in custody, but who knows? Waxman has us briefing at oh-six hundred tomorrow morning.”

  “What about the dog?” Lei asked.

  “Seems like you’ve got the suspect in custody,” Marcella said, with one of those vibrant dimpled smiles. “Report in tomorrow, and I’ll call you if anything develops.”

  Lei gave her friend a brief hug. “Thanks. This one got to me.”

  “I don’t think anyone’s going to forget the Smiley Bandit anytime soon—this girl got to all of us. You said you were going to tell me something about Stevens?”

  “It can wait.” Lei had forgotten all about her encounter with Stevens in the drama of the day. Memory brought familiar pain, but she hoped it was a tiny bit less than this morning.

  “Okay. Well, now we just need to round up whoever’s left and figure out what’s been going on. Thank God we brought her in safely—though you about gave me a heart attack jumping out of the helicopter.” Marcella put her hands on her hips. “That was not part of the plan. It was at least fifty feet! You could easily have drowned!”

  “She would have, for sure, if I hadn’t jumped.” Lei stroked the domed head of the Chihuahua, who had gone limp with tiredness and attention. “But I bet Waxman won’t like it.”

  “He’s not the only one.” Rogers said as he returned. “Get home and get cleaned up and some rest. I’ve no doubt Waxman’s going to take some chunks out of your hide tomorrow morning—you’ll need your game face on.”

  “I’m sorry. I had to do what I had to do.” This conversation reminded Lei of a dozen she’d had with Stevens, but this time she felt real regret for the worry she’d caused her friends.

  They watched the EMTs pushing Consuelo’s gurney and Dr. Wilson go into the building, heading for the ambulance just as Bennie Fernandez, his cherubic Santa profile all a-jiggle with unaccustomed speed, arrived. Her last glimpse of Consuelo was the black silk of the girl’s hair trailing in the breeze as the group got onto the transport elevator, followed by Fernandez and Marcella, who’d charged onto the elevator at the last minute to intercept Fernandez.

  Consuelo would be safe at Tripler, under medical supervision. It was all over but the cleanup—or so Lei hoped.

  Chapter Twenty

  Lei made her way to her truck in the lowest level of the parking garage, her shoes squishing and pant legs rubbing, the exhausted little dog asleep in the crook of her arm. The shoes and pants reminded her of another investigation she’d never forget—the drowning of two young girls back in Hilo. The feeling of the wet black silk of Haunani Pohakoa’s hair in her hands as she towed the drowned girl out of the pond where they’d washed up would always haunt her. Haunani was a girl she’d known and felt a connection to—and been too late to help.

  She felt that connection even more for brave Consuelo Aguilar. Lei couldn’t explain how she knew what the girl was thinking and feeling—there was just something there, a kinship.

  At her building, she stopped to let Angel sniff and piddle in the grass in front of the shower tree. The three flights of stairs had never felt so long, the light dimming as she trudged higher to her floor and unlocked the door.

  She set Angel down on the floor to explore her new quarters and went to do her own perimeter check—all windows and doors were secure, and the apartment had a dusty, closed-up smell she hoped would blow out as she opened the sliders.

  “Taking a shower, Angel,” she told the little dog. “Let’
s go get that salt water off you.”

  She washed the little dog, wriggling and snorting, in the bathroom sink. The Chihuahua, so much tinier than Keiki but with the same black and tan points, reminded Lei of her dog. She needed to hurry up and work on finding a new, dog-friendly place where Keiki could be at home. She hopped into the shower, and the hot water caressing her body felt heavenly, cleansing away the sweat and salt of another busy day in the FBI.

  Angel was waiting on the bath mat outside the shower, and Lei thought regretfully of how she had to call Max Smiley and return the little dog to him—but after hearing Consuelo’s story, she was even less inclined to hurry.

  Lei had never seen the appeal of these kinds of dogs until now, but when she climbed into her inflatable mattress that night with Angel in the crook of her arm, the comfort the little Chihuahua brought was undeniable.

  Her mind drifted back over the case, imagining young Consuelo Aguilar, fueled by idealistic rage, flying that ridiculous plane into those ridiculous situations, Angel her only comfort. And a comfort she must have been.

  But where were her accomplices? Were they even Rezents and Blackman? It seemed like a good assumption, but Consuelo herself had turned the whole investigation on its ear. And the Kwon murder remained a constant thread of anxiety that ran through the back of her thoughts. Lei was glad she’d made that difficult call to her grandfather earlier, and it seemed there was no way he could have had anything to do with the shooting—her father was way off base there. But at least Lei had made contact, and they’d meet next week at a noodle house. She found herself smiling a little, wrapped around the tiny dog.

  Her sleep was dreamless for once.

  Early morning turned the Kaneohe air blue gray as Lei pulled up at the barred automatic gate in front of the Smiley estate. She’d decided to run the dog out to the older couple before the morning briefing, rather than leave her in the apartment where the Chihuahua had begun immediate panic-stricken yapping when Lei tried to leave.