by Toby Neal
“I just wanted to say—let me know if you need anything. While your husband is gone. Like if your car breaks down or something.” Thomas flushed a little, his neck darkening above the collar of his uniform.
“Thanks, but I’m fine. Got a lot of ohana around me.” Lei smiled, doing her best to dispel the awkwardness. So sweet, a real gentleman. “But I appreciate the kind words.”
“Well, if you still want to go out and dive that wreck in Lahaina, just say the word.”
“I don’t think I can. Our son’s having some adjustment issues, and I’m just too busy. Thanks, anyway.” Lei pushed the door open and fled down the hall, feeling guilty and terrified by how much she wished she could go diving.
Lei and Pono dropped the backpack off to the new intern, Kevin Parker, who was working on their evidence processing.
“Full process on this?” Kevin asked, blinking owlishly as he took the bagged backpack.
“Yes. Catalog all the contents. Bring photos of whatever you come up with to the team meeting with the captain,” Pono said.
Kevin unzipped the backpack and gently dumped the contents onto the counter. “The phone looks important.” He thumbed it on. “Still got a little juice, but it’s password protected. I’ll give that to Murioka.”
Pono turned to Lei. “I found a T. J. Costa on the list of cited fishermen. Let’s start with him, since that’s the name Miller gave us of the aquarium poacher who threatened Danielle.”
The coin toss put them back in Pono’s truck. “More time with Stanley.” Lei climbed up into the cab and patted the chrome skull.
“Keep it up, Sweets, and I’m going to tell everyone your nickname.”
“You wouldn’t dare. I’ll tell the captain you keep fighting cocks.”
“Oh, don’t go there, sista.” Pono’s softhearted adoption of broken-down fighting cocks was a secret from everyone but his long-suffering family, who had to put up with the birds’ crowing in the mornings.
Pulling up into an overgrown and cluttered driveway in Kahului, a caged pit bull barking at them, Lei felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. The house hunched among dead, rusting cars, the windows boarded up. A series of rooster hutches with staked-out fighting birds were visible behind a fence in the backyard.
“Steady.” Pono glanced at her.
“I’ve got a feeling.” Lei looked at the house. “Did you run this guy?”
“Yeah. Busted for possession to distribute meth, but it was seven years ago.”
Lei still didn’t get out of the truck. “I’m getting an illegal-activities vibe off this place.”
“Doesn’t seem to be anyone home,” Pono said.
“Let’s approach with caution.”
Lei got out of the truck on one side, Pono on the other. She used her door, then a rusted refrigerator for cover as she approached the front door, scanning for threats. Nothing moved but the dog, more hysterical by the minute, and the cocks behind the house, prancing and crowing on their tie-outs.
Up on the little weathered porch, Pono knocked. “Maui Police Department. Open up!” Both of them made sure they were out of range of the door.
No answer.
“Maui Police Department!” Pono boomed.
Lei put her hands on her hips and scanned the yard again. Hidden by a stack of wooden pallets and a tarp was a hard-bottomed Zodiac on a trailer. She pointed.
“New. And that shit piled over it is a disguise.”
“I see those white plastic drums they use to move the fish, too.” Pono pointed to the pile of empty barrels on the side of the house.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they were cooking meth in here, too.” Lei indicated a pile of black-bagged refuse. “Let’s return with a warrant and backup.”
Lei didn’t start to relax until they were heading back down the road. She used the radio to call Dispatch, asking for a unit to surveille the house.
“I’m out of those pre-signed search warrants I won from the judge at poker,” Pono said. “So it’s going to take a little time to show we have probable cause.”
“I’ll call in the request.” Lei got on the radio again. Hanging up, she rubbed her hands on her pants legs. “Hey, we’re over by the husband’s CPA office. Let’s swing by. Probe his alibi.”
Pono narrowed his eyes at her. “He’s coming in with the girlfriend tomorrow morning.”
“I just want to see if it’s possible for him to have been elsewhere. Yes, we established he was working, but nothing like going there in person and getting an eyeball on things.”
“This is your bird in the ring.” Pono pulled the truck up in front of Phillips’s neat little plantation cottage in Wailuku made over into an office.
“Think a cockfighting analogy is appropriate, Detective Kaihale?” Lei teased.
“You go in and check it out. I don’t like Phillips for this one. I need a snack before the meet with the captain.” Pono unwrapped a stick of beef jerky and reached for the extra soda he’d picked up at the Coast Guard station.
“Fine.” Lei slammed the truck’s door a little hard and ascended the steps of the neatly restored cottage, twisting her windblown curls into a knot. She showed her badge to a sweet-faced receptionist with a big silk hibiscus in her hair. A little brass sign spelled out A. Vargas on the desk.
“Ms. Vargas. I’m Sergeant Lei Texeira. I’m checking on your boss’s whereabouts two days ago.”
“Oh. Didn’t your office call yesterday?” The woman picked up her phone, and her finger hovered over an intercom button. “I told someone what he did on that day.”
“We did call. But we have to be thorough. I’d like a step-by-step rundown of Mr. Phillips’s day.”
“I’d better tell him you’re here.”
“He seemed pretty upset when we searched his house earlier today. I think it might be best to just give me the information I’m asking for,” Lei said sweetly. “He’s so stressed out. And of course we don’t think he had anything to do with Danielle’s death, but the higher-ups always tell us to look at the spouse closely, so I’m just trying to get my captain off my back. We have a meeting this afternoon…”
“Oh, all right.” The receptionist put the phone down and scrolled to a scheduler. “I’ll make a copy of his day’s schedule.”
“Would you? Oh, thanks so much.” Lei smiled so hard her cheeks hurt as the woman hit Print on something on her computer. A page filled with little boxes spit out from the printer.
Lei took it, scanned down. “So this part from noon to six p.m. that says ‘office hours.’ What is that, exactly?”
“He’s in his office. Working on people’s taxes. It’s a high-impact time right now.”
“Did you see him? During that time?”
“I don’t bother him when he puts his signal on. He had it on all afternoon.” She indicated a little LED light over the door. “Means he’s in there working.”
“Does he ever come out when he has the light on?”
“Mr. Phillips has a small lounge and bathroom attached to his office, so he can stay in there all day, take breaks, and keep up his concentration. He’s stressed out, as you mentioned.”
“So he was in there all that afternoon. But you didn’t physically see him.”
“Yes, he was here, and no, I didn’t see him after he turned his light on. But all his work was logged in.” The receptionist pressed a few more buttons and generated another printout. “The accounts he was working on. This is our auto-billing service. It’s connected to work product.”
“I think I’d like to have a word with him after all.” Lei indicated the door with her head. The receptionist thinned her lips, picked up the phone, and hit the button. It toned. Lei could hear it even through the thick door. Beep-beep-beep.
“He must be in the restroom,” the woman said. Lei brushed past her and twisted the handle.
“It’s locked.”
The receptionist got up and knocked. “Mr. Phillips? Frank?”
No answer.
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She frowned and took out a key. “Perhaps he’s napping. That happens sometimes.”
She unlocked the door and opened it. Two former bedrooms with a wall knocked out formed a spacious office area. Lei could see a door that led to the bathroom. The “lounge” was an area with a couch, television, and minibar in one corner. In the other, a large L-shaped desk, piled high with files, adding machine, and computer, stood empty.
The receptionist hovered at her shoulder. “He must have stepped out for a minute.”
Lei walked across the room to a large fabric wall hanging, lifted it aside. “What a handy exit.” The receptionist looked genuinely upset, her eyes wide and a hand over her mouth, as Lei opened the exterior door and looked outside. Two wooden steps led down to a graveled parking space, empty. “Is this where he keeps his vehicle?”
“Yes,” the receptionist whispered. “But that day he uploaded work product. So he had to have been here.”
There must be some way to do that remotely, but Lei wasn’t going to argue with this loyal employee.
“Please let Mr. Phillips know we look forward to our interview with him tomorrow.” She walked down the two steps and around the front of the building, surprising Pono by approaching from a different direction.
“Poked a hole in the husband’s alibi.” Lei hopped into the truck. “Got to get the tech department to have a look at his work computer—come to think of it, I better take it now. Good thing I brought a copy of that search warrant.” She took the copy out of the case file, went back into the office, and rattled the receptionist further by leaving the warrant, which included “all data-storage units.” She carted the computer back to the truck over the woman’s objections.
“Now we just gotta figure out how he did work that went up into a time-stamped data-storage unit that generates an auto-billing,” Lei told Pono. “I hope Jessup is ready for a project.”
“Jessup is always ready for work.” Pono helped Lei put a seat belt and some spare towels around the computer to steady it in the jump seat of the cab.
Back at the station, Lei texted the young tech to come in. Her phone dinged with a message from Murioka. Will get on it right after class!!!
She smiled at the young man’s enthusiasm.
Leaving his computers for you at your desk. She slid the phone back into her pocket and headed for the elevator, toting the computer console with Phillips’s laptop balanced on top of it. She went down a level and squeezed the equipment onto the worktable in a back room. The most junior of MPD’s tech staff had created a nest for himself there with yards of electrical cord, blue Internet cable, and computers in various states of disembowelment.
Her cell phone rang with a call from Pono.
“Time for the team meeting review with the captain,” Pono said. “Dr. G has his results of the fetal DNA to share, and Omura wants to review where we are.”
“Great. Be right there.”
Captain Omura had taken over the conference room, whose table was littered, as usual, with an assortment of doughnut and malasada boxes. She swept all the leftover treats into the garbage, and a waft of haupia pudding scent teased the air.
“Aw, man, boss! Did you have to pitch them all?” Pono groaned. Omura flicked a crumb off her chair and sat down.
“Yes. None of our waistlines needed any of that. Let’s review.”
Lei looked at the team assembled around the table. Kevin Parker, the young crime scene tech doing an internship from the University of Hawaii’s new forensics program, cleared his throat. “I’ve been working on the trace collected from the boat and searches. I haven’t met everyone.”
“By everyone I assume you mean me,” The portly medical examiner stood up from his chair and extended a hand to the college student. “Dr. Phil Gregory, ME. I’m guessing your captain called this meeting because I got back some information pertinent to the case.”
“This is an opportunity to review and was already scheduled,” Omura said. “But we’re glad you’ve got some information to add. Texeira, will you keep us organized on one of the boards?”
“Yes, sir.” Lei got up and uncapped an erasable pen. She appreciated the chance to keep the discussion moving. “I have some new information, too.”
“Then let’s get started. What do we know about the victim? Just call out the facts as you know them.”
“Danielle ‘Lani’ Phillips, age thirty-five, only University of Hawaii staff marine biologist on Maui,” Pono said. “Five six in height, one thirty-eight in weight, brown hair and eyes, Caucasian and Hawaiian ancestry. Eight weeks pregnant at the time of death.” Lei jotted as fast as she could.
“Her hobby was catching ocean poachers while she was out on her research projects,” Lei added. “She took reference photos used by DLNR to bust violators, thus providing possible motive.”
“She also had a stalker, grad student Ben Miller,” Pono said. “First he stalked her and she resisted his overtures; but it seems like they might have slept together before she died.”
“I read her journal.” Lei noted each of the names on the board as they went along. “It was mostly scientific notes, but there were a couple of undated personal notes. She slept with someone who told her he loved her. I’m wondering if it was Ben Miller. He was kind of creepy—but an attractive guy. It’s possible she just gave in to temptation, since her husband was having an affair.”
“Since when was sleeping with a stalker a good idea?” Captain Omura twiddled her pen. “Go on.”
“Then there’s the husband.” Pono inclined his head toward Lei. “Lei’s favorite candidate. Today she poked a hole in his alibi.”
Lei filled them in on the situation at the CPA’s office.
“I’m seeing possibility but not motive.” Omura frowned. “Why didn’t they just get divorced?”
“I don’t know. I’m hoping to find something more when I get into the financials.” Lei felt a prickle under her arms and folded them, tightening her jaw. Her gut was still insisting on Phillips. “I think there’s more going on with him. And I just don’t like the guy.”
“Maybe my results will shed a little light on the situation,” Dr. Gregory said. “I was able to get the fetus’s DNA, a fascinating project. I didn’t have to mess with the actual fetal tissue—it was available in the cord and also in the amniotic fluid, in case you’re interested. I ran it against Ben Miller and the husband, Frank Phillips. The child was neither of theirs.”
Lei sat down abruptly in surprise. She shook her head. “There’s someone else in her life.”
Dr. Gregory pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I wish I could tell more from the DNA profile. Someday we’ll be able to tell not only the sex, but the ethnicity, hair color, and more. All I could do in this case was a comparison with the paternal markers.”
“So now we know we don’t have all the players in the mix,” Omura said. “We’re still hashing out all theories here. What are some others?”
“We still need to interview and search the suspicious residence of T. J. Costa, a man who is known to have threatened Danielle,” Pono said. “We are waiting on a warrant to search his premises. We saw evidence of some suspicious-looking activity.”
“That seems like a viable lead. So does the jilted stalker, Ben Miller. Personally, I’m finding the husband a stretch, Texeira. No motive and unlikely to have been able to physically pull it off. I could see one of the poachers nailing her when he noticed she was taking photos, or Miller going with her on her dive and then turning on her. Perhaps she told Miller she was pregnant and that it wasn’t his,” Omura said.
“That’s my favorite scenario,” Pono said. “Miller can’t have her, so no one can. He was obsessed with her.”
“Kaihale and Texeira, wrap up the day by going out to do the search on this Costa character’s house, and if you have more time, dig into Miller’s alibi further.” Omura stood, straightening her immaculate uniform. “There’s more going on. Find it. Dismissed.”
Lei and Pono r
olled up T. J. Costa’s driveway in her silver Tacoma. The house hunkered, dark and unwelcoming, the boarded-up windows like blinded eyes under overgrown mango trees. As before, the staked-out fighting cocks crowed from the backyard, accompanied by the aggressive barking of the pit bull. But this time, a jacked-up truck with heavy off-road tires and a trailer hitch was parked in front of the house.
The drive-by patrol had reported when the truck had arrived and that it hadn’t left.
Lei cinched down her tight, hot Kevlar vest. She had a bad feeling about this place, and as she got out of her truck with the warrant in her hand, she pointed to the nearby metal can filled with bulky black trash bags. “We want to check some of that.”
“Let’s talk to the guy first.” Pono pushed his Oakleys up on his head as they approached the front door.
The dog barked frantically, heaving its heavily muscled brown body against the metal sides of the cage, adding to a sense of danger that made Lei’s hands prickle.
They ascended worn wooden steps onto the porch, cluttered with an outboard motor with a broken blade, a stack of chicken cages, and a disorderly pile of old rubber slippers. Standing to the side of the door, Pono reached over and pounded on the hollow wood.
No answer.
He pounded again. “T. J. Costa! Open up! This is Maui Police Department!”
No answer.
“Maui Police Department!” Pono yelled again. Lei, leaning close to the door, thought she heard the sound of running feet inside.
She pulled her weapon and leaped back down the steps, weaving around discarded boxes piled against the house and a hibiscus bush that scratched her with lank, tangled branches. Lei heard the crash of the back door closing as she reached the corner. The rooster fence, a six-foot chain-link pen, interfered with her approach, and she ran along it, scanning for whoever had exited the house. She tripped over a stack of lumber, heart thundering as she caught sight of a fleeing man heading for a metal toolshed deep in overgrown bushes.