Paradise Crime Mysteries

by Toby Neal

  “I’m Lieutenant Stevens, Brandon’s commanding officer,” Stevens said, his throat closing. He coughed. “What’s happened?”

  The woman burst into tears. “Oh, Lieutenant Stevens! We’re at the hospital and Brandon, he’s in a coma from being beaten!”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Stevens shut the phone and broke into a run for the front doors. In his truck on the way to Maui Memorial, he got in touch with Dispatch to find out who’d been sent to take a statement. He was able to intercept the responding officers and called Ferreira from his own station for backup. He’d also called Omura on her personal cell to apprise her of the development by the time he screeched into the portico of the hospital.

  Showing his badge, he was quickly escorted to the intensive care unit, where Brandon’s mother, several cousins and siblings had already gathered in the waiting room.

  “Lieutenant Stevens.” He held up his badge as he strode forward, heading for the distraught-looking woman in a Hawaiian-print shirt and capris pants, her black hair wound into a tower held up by chopsticks. “Are you Mrs. Mahoe?”

  “Yes.” She straightened her shirt, standing tall to look him in the eye.

  “I’m so sorry for what’s happened. What can you tell me?”

  “You first. What was Brandon doing that yours is the only number on his phone?”

  Stevens looked into the window of the ICU. His stomach dropped at the sight of his young recruit. The man’s head was wound in bandages, his sturdy frame motionless on the bed, his robust color gone gray. A nurse moved around inside the room, monitoring the equipment.

  “I’m here to take your official statement and begin investigating what happened,” Stevens said, looking back into Mrs. Mahoe’s tear-stained face. “Is there anywhere we can speak privately? My partner will be joining us.”

  A young man, burly and brown in a "wifebeater" T-shirt emblazoned with a pit bull, elbowed through the relatives toward him. “I saw the whole thing.”

  “Okay. Let me take your statement first.” Stevens looked around for hospital personnel, approached the nurse’s station, and held up his badge. “How is Brandon Mahoe doing?” he asked.

  “He’s being treated for head trauma,” the nurse said. “He’s currently in a coma. We are hopeful.”

  “Hopeful for what?” Stevens rapped out, aware of the audience behind him.

  “Hopeful that he’ll recover. His skull is fractured. The coma is medically induced, to let the swelling in his brain go down.”

  Stevens drew a quick breath in shock, feeling guilt twist his guts—but now was a time to focus on the job at hand. He could second-guess his decision to send Brandon in undercover later. “Is there anywhere I can interview these witnesses more privately?”

  “The chapel.” The nurse pointed.

  Ferreira arrived, recoiled at the sight of Mahoe in the ICU, but didn’t comment. “Boss, where do you want us?”

  “We’re going to the chapel to take statements.” Stevens gestured to the young man in the T-shirt. “Follow us, please.”

  The room was a dim square filled with rows of plastic chairs. At the front squatted an altar that reminded Stevens of his grandmother’s old walnut TV cabinet from the 1950s. A wall-mounted box with a plastic dove that pulsed glowing light overhung it.

  Stevens rearranged several of the chairs into a triangle with Ferreira in one, himself in another, and the witness in a third.

  “What’s your name?” He took out his notebook with the stub of pencil.

  “Mana Guinamo.” The young man smoothed his shirt self-consciously, and Stevens spotted dirt and scuff marks on his pants and clothing.

  “Mana, I’m Lieutenant Stevens and this is Detective Ferreira. Did any other officers respond to a call at the scene of the attack?”

  A long pause. Guinamo looked down at his hands. Stevens noticed the knuckles were swollen and split. “No, sir.”

  “So we are the first police officers to talk to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell us what happened.”

  “We were at a Hui gathering. Just a small one, where we were learning to be team leaders for our patrol groups. Do you know about the Heiau Hui?”

  Ferreira spoke up. “Yes, we’re aware. I hear good things about what you’re doing.”

  “I don’t understand it.” Guinamo shook his close-cropped head of wiry black hair. “We were listening to our leader, Charles Awapuhi, when suddenly he pretends to be sniffing the air. ‘I smell a rat,’ he says. ‘I smell a piggy rat.’ Everyone starts looking around all confused, and then he points a finger at Brandon.” Guinamo looked at his hands again. “Mahoe, he’s my friend; we go back to small kid time. He stands proud. Doesn’t say a word. Awapuhi comes over, pokes him in the chest. ‘Who you been ratting to, boy?’ and Mahoe, he says nothing. Then Awapuhi punches him right in the stomach. Suddenly, everyone starts punching him, and one guy he even had a bat! I jumped in and started fighting, trying to get them off him, but once he was down, on the ground, Awapuhi called them off. “Nuff already,” he says. “We just want to send a message.” And they all walked off. I called nine-one-one for an ambulance and they came. I called his mom. I know her. She went through his pockets and found the phone with your number on it.”

  “Why didn’t some officers respond to your nine-one-one call?” Stevens asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did anyone besides you know Brandon was a police officer?”

  “Yes. Plenty people knew. He wasn’t trying to hide it.”

  “Are there any other police officers in the Heiau Hui?”

  “Yes.” Now Guinamo looked down. “But I’d rather not name them.”

  “Tell me more about the Hui, how Awapuhi runs things.”

  “Until now, he’s been hard but fair. We all knew he was the boss, but this was the first time I saw him target anyone. Why Brandon?”

  Stevens didn’t answer, enduring his guilt. He took down Guinamo’s contact information. “Can you send in Mrs. Mahoe, please? And thank you for sticking up for Brandon. Who knows? You might have saved his life.”

  “I just hope he’s okay,” Guinamo said. “Least I could do for my friend.”

  “Get those knuckles looked at,” Stevens said, as the young man stood up. “I think you might have cracked something.”

  Mrs. Mahoe came in next. Stevens peered past her. “Is there a Mr. Mahoe?”

  “No,” she answered shortly, taking a seat. “What was my son doing for you that put him in this kind of danger?”

  “I’m so sorry for what happened, Mrs. Mahoe. Your son is a brave man. He’s a hero.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that.” She folded her arms over her considerable chest and narrowed her eyes at him. “You haven’t answered my question.”

  “I’m sorry. I mean no disrespect, but I can’t discuss an open investigation. May I have the phone, please?” A long moment passed; then Mrs. Mahoe reached into the pocket of the capris and smacked it into his hand. “Thank you. What can you tell me about the Heiau Hui and their activities?”

  “Don’t know much. I work at the Lahaina Luau. I’m a fire dancer.” Stevens blinked, trying to keep the surprise off his face, but she must have seen it, because she gave a tiny smile. “I’m very good at juggling flaming coconuts and pretty much anything else. Anyway, too busy to get involved when Brandon told me he was starting to work with them—but it seemed like a good thing, organizing to protect our heiaus. Now I’m starting to think they’re only a gang of thugs.”

  “What do you know about Charles Awapuhi, the leader here on Maui?”

  “I went to school with him.”

  Stevens looked down, took a note as Mrs. Mahoe went on.

  “He was always a little radical. Liked risks. Liked to push things. He got his first head tattoo in high school. Even then, he was declaring he didn’t want to have to live like other people. He did that tattoo knowing it was going to make it hard for him to get a job.”r />
  “Why do you think he targeted your son?”

  “Because he found out Brandon was reporting to you on the Hui activities.” Her eyes were hard. Stevens had to resist the desire to look away from her gaze. “I hope whatever Brandon told you was worth it.”

  “It could never be worth what happened to your son,” Stevens said, and extended his hand to Mrs. Mahoe. “I’m so sorry.”

  The woman’s eyes filled with tears as she took his hand in both of hers. “Brandon loves being a police officer. He thinks so much of you.”

  Now it was Stevens who had to blink. “This is enough for now. We have enough to move on.”

  Ferreira stood up and embraced Mrs. Mahoe. “He’s going to be okay,” the grizzled detective said. “Keep praying.”

  As they walked down the hall, Stevens glanced at Ferreira. “We still have to remind ourselves the Hui isn’t the real problem.” They brushed through the automatic doors of the hospital. “They’re a problem, all right, but they arose as a result of the desecrations. If we can stop the looting and retrieve the artifacts, there will be no reason for the Hui to exist.”

  “Unless they decide they want to take on another cause,” Ferreira said.

  “Well, let’s hope this whole thing subsides when we get the looters and whoever’s paying them. I’ll coordinate the arrest warrant for Charles Awapuhi with Captain Omura. You get back to the station and keep an eye on things,” Stevens said.

  “Right, boss.”

  They peeled off to their separate vehicles.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lei woke up the next morning to the unfamiliar twittering of blackbirds in the California oaks outside. She was curled up next to her aunt, and for a moment she savored the feeling of safety, belonging, and love that Rosario’s nearness brought her. She’d gone to live with her aunt when she was nine years old, after her mother’s death, and had slept in her aunt’s bed for the first two years. She’d been unable to tolerate the anxiety of being alone.

  The memory of her aunt’s condition crashed in on Lei, and she felt herself curling up tight against the pain of the oncoming loss. There was no doubt death was coming—it was all around Lei in the smell that filled the room.

  Lei turned her face into the pillow to muffle the sound of her sobs. In spite of that, she felt her aunt’s hand, light and soft, stroking her hair.

  “You’re here,” Rosario said. “You’re here.”

  Lei reached out and put her arms around her aunt’s shrunken form. She pulled her close. “As long as I can be.”

  Even as she held her aunt close, the reek of the IV and the smell of her aunt’s body rose up to make Lei’s stomach roil. She shut her eyes and weathered the waves, horrified that she could be having such a physical reaction to her aunt’s illness.

  Finally, it was too much, and she let go of Aunty Rosario, getting out of bed. She hurried to the bathroom, shut the door, turned on the water full blast, and made it to the toilet just in time to vomit.

  Weak and trembling, she rested her head on the cool porcelain and wondered what she could have eaten that was getting to her.

  But maybe she was pregnant. The thought made her heave some more, just from pure terror. It was one thing to think it might be a good idea to let nature take its course. It was another entirely to deal with the real effects.

  A knock on the door. “Lei? You okay in there?” Her dad’s worried voice.

  “Yeah. Just ate something funny on the plane, I guess. I’ll be out in a few.”

  She heard his footsteps pad away.

  She stood up carefully, feeling another wave of dizziness and nausea, and turned on the shower. Under the fall of water, she took inventory of her body, running her hands down her arms to feel the familiar ridged lines from past self-injury, across her collarbone to feel the knot of scar left by a perpetrator’s bite, and around her breasts, which felt tender and sore.

  She’d worried she was pregnant before and been wrong, but that night a while back with Stevens might have done it—and if it hadn’t, it certainly hadn’t been for lack of trying. She smiled at the memory of how good that whole night had been. In spite of everything else, their love and passion were only growing.

  She’d better get another one of those tests and see what was going on, and if something was, she’d have even more good news for her aunt, maybe enough to keep Rosario alive a little longer.

  Lei scrubbed briskly, energized by the thought even as she quavered at the idea of not only dealing with bringing home Kiet but adding their own child to the mix when the baby was less than a year old. But maybe it was like Dr. Wilson had said, that two wasn’t much more work than one. In any case, no point in obsessing until she knew one way or the other.

  Lei got dressed and met her dad in the kitchen. He handed her a mug of coffee. “Feeling better?”

  “Yeah.” She didn’t feel able to say more. “What’s the plan for today?”

  “I thought you and Rosario could sort all those pictures she took of you as a kid and put them in albums. I brought the photos down from the attic and bought the albums already.”

  “Oh, Dad, that’s a great idea. She’s always been working so hard. She used to say she’d do this when she had time,” Lei said. Her eyes welled. “I’m so sick of crying already!”

  “Just get used to it. It’s how we roll around here,” Wayne said, his face unashamedly wet. “I don’t feel right if I haven’t cried at least three times a day.”

  She hugged his lean body, feeling his hard, tattooed arms come around to squeeze her. “Okay. I’ll just let whatever happens, happen.”

  “That’s my girl.” He tweaked her wet curls. “Though you never have been good at that.”

  “I think I’m getting better.”

  “Well, here are the photos and albums.” He’d set everything out on the little square dining room table. “I have to get to the restaurant soon. I’ve been picking up Rosario’s work.”

  “Can I take a quick run to the store before you leave?” Lei had dressed in her running clothes. “I have to pick something up.”

  “Sure. Just hurry. They want me in by nine a.m. I’ll try to get her eating some breakfast while you’re gone.”

  Lei jogged the several blocks to the pharmacy, feeling her angst lift with the movement of running. “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.” She’d learned that one from her father and knew it was one of the cornerstones of the twelve-step programs. That prayer had a lot of uses, including accepting that a loved one was dying—or that she might be pregnant.

  It is what it is. Another good saying, one she owed to Dr. Wilson.

  Lei bought a pregnancy test along with a bright bouquet of sunflowers and jogged back to the house. She put the flowers in water and scraped up her nerve to do the pregnancy test. The sooner she knew, the sooner she could share the news with Aunty, if there was any news to share.

  She went into the bathroom and did her business on the stick. She shut the two sides of the plastic slide for the minutes required and got up to wash her hands. Finally, she looked at herself in the mirror, took a deep breath, and opened the slide.

  “Blue,” she said aloud, and for a long moment couldn’t remember what that meant. She scrabbled around for the instructions, hands trembling as she read aloud, “A blue result indicates pregnancy. Congratulations!”

  She looked up into her own scared eyes and said aloud, “I’m going to be a mama. Of two.” And clapped her hand over her mouth and gave a little scream. She didn’t know if the feeling surging through her was terror or excitement.

  She went back out to the kitchen, picked up the vase of sunflowers, and took them in to her aunt.

  “Aunty, I brought you something.”

  “Oh, honey, I love them. So cheerful!” Rosario looked brighter today. Wayne got up from the chair beside the bed and the bowl of soft cereal he’d been coaxing Aunty to eat
.

  “Off to work,” he said, dropping a kiss on Lei’s head. “I’ll bring you home something for lunch.”

  “Hold on a minute, Dad. I’ve got some news to share with both of you.” She made sure she had both of their full attention. Her mouth trembled as she said, “I’m pregnant.”

  “What?” her father exclaimed. “I thought you said it didn’t work!”

  Aunty Rosario clapped her hands. “I knew it!”

  “Aunty, oh my God.” Lei felt her cheeks burning, and tears filled her eyes. “I can’t believe it. I don’t even know how I feel about it really. I was just getting used to the idea of having Kiet, and now we’re going to have another one.”

  “This is just the news I needed to hear,” Aunty said. “Come give me a hug.” Lei leaned down for that and then was caught up in her dad’s arms.

  “I can’t wait to be a grandpa,” he said gruffly. “Take it easy, now, you hear? No more bombs.”

  “Dad. None of your business,” Lei said, but she smiled and patted his shoulder.

  “Call that husband of yours,” Wayne said.

  “I want to tell him in person,” Lei said. “He’s got a lot going on right now, and I don’t want to distract him.”

  “Well, I’ll be back in a few hours and will bring you girls some lunch. Have fun with the photos, and you really made my day.” Wayne kissed her on the top of her head and left.

  Lei spent a pleasant couple of hours sorting the box of photos with her aunt, pasting them into the photo albums her father had bought with a glue stick. “Remember Girl Scouts?”

  “How could I forget? Lei, the girl who already knew how to fix a meal from stuff she found in the woods and who chased off a bear with a stick before any of the grown-ups knew it had wandered into camp!”

  “I liked getting a medal,” Lei said, smoothing the photo of her receiving her “Courage” merit badge. “I think that’s why I’m good at police work. You get to do stuff, and then you get promoted when you do good. The rules are clear, even though I don’t always follow them. I don’t think I would like civilian life. Too fuzzy.”