by Toby Neal
“Yeah. Felipe’s a good kid.”
“You know, when was this?” Wayne realized he’d heard about the second murder late in the evening, and from what he could tell, the body hadn’t been discovered until yesterday afternoon.
“Yesterday. But before lunch.”
“Thanks for telling me.”
This meant Souza could have seen the body before it was discovered, or known something about the murder—or maybe he was upset about something else entirely. “I’ll call Stevens as soon as we’re done picking.”
Wayne ended up with a bag of summer squash, some of the remaining fresh garlic, and a big haul of beans. He lifted a hand in thanks to Teo as he headed to his truck, speed dialing Stevens.
“Hey, Wayne. What’s going on?” Stevens sounded distracted, as he often did when Wayne contacted him at work.
“Remember I told you about my friend Teo Benitez, the farmer?”
“Uh—yeah.”
“Well, he told me hasn’t heard from you yet.”
“We have to prioritize our interviews, and I think we covered the information he might have had another way.”
“Not what he said to me about Felipe Souza this morning.” Wayne told his son-in-law what the farmer had described. “And if Teo was right about the time, the young man was all shaken up before the body was found.”
Wayne knew he had Stevens’s full attention by the sharpening of his voice. “We have someone in custody for the murder, but we could definitely use more information of any kind. I’ll follow up with your friend right away. Thanks for the tip.”
“Good. Glad I could help.” Wayne hung up and got into his truck after stowing his haul. On the way to his restaurant, he called Lei. He’d been checking up on her at least once a day. “Hey, Sweets,” he said when she picked up.
“Hi, Dad.” She sounded cheerful. “Whatcha doing? And before you ask, nothing’s happening.”
“Oh, good. Too soon, anyway.” Wayne throttled back behind a slow-moving rental whose driver was rubbernecking for a view of whales in the foamy, wind-whipped ocean. “I’m just heading back from Teo’s farm with a great selection for the menu. Want me to bring something home for you guys?”
“Always. What you got?”
“Multicolored green beans that I’m making into a chilled salad. Garlic, summer squash.”
“Dad, you know I love anything I don’t have to cook. Ooh.” She grunted. “Baby just gave me a nasty kick. Good to have some movement, though. He’s been really quiet the last day or so.”
“I gotta tell you.” Wayne ran his free hand through his hair, smoothing it back from his forehead. “I’ll be glad when this part is over and the kid is out with the rest of us. This waiting is really getting to me.”
“You and me both, Dad. Well, I’ll look forward to whatever you bring home. I’m just stashing the new hurricane supplies. Did you hear anything more about it on the weather report?”
“Good news. It’s been downgraded to a tropical depression.” Wayne navigated the last stoplight in Kahului and turned right onto the Hana Highway, headed for the restaurant. “Supposed to hit later on. A lot of wind and rain at this point, but nothing too serious. Seems like the weather’s already begun, though.”
“No hurricane is good news. Well, now we’re stocked up for this season, anyway. Gave me something to do since I’m not remodeling the office into a nursery.”
“You’re never short on things to do, Sweets. See you tonight.” He ended the call and said a prayer that things continued well with her and the baby.
Lei
Lei finished stacking the last of the square gallon jugs in the shed with the rest of the hurricane supplies, a familiar ache tightening her lower back as she hefted the heavy plastic containers. She was relieved that the hurricane had been downgraded, but a little skeptical—it was smart to be as prepared as possible.
She threw the ball for Conan, Keiki leaning against her leg. The younger male Rottie still needed a good deal of exercise to settle during the day, but just the motion of throwing the ball set off a series of twinges through her abdomen.
“I need to get into the ocean. I’m so uncomfortable today,” Lei told the dogs as she headed into the house. She was glad to have them there to talk to during the day now that she was home. The breathlessness was gone, but that symptom had been replaced by a constant sense of heavy pressure down below, and she wasn’t sure which was worse.
She’d had a mellow morning, taking Kiet to school and restocking the hurricane supplies. Now there was another chore to do, one that gave her a mix of apprehension and excitement: packing her hospital bags.
She’d already washed the linens and set up Kiet’s old wooden cradle in the living room. The beautifully carved cradle was something Kiet’s birth mother, Anchara, had left him—and it felt good to think of it holding another baby. Anchara was an invisible sweet ghost Lei had made peace with by including her frequently in talks with Kiet and reminders like the cradle.
Relieved to be in the coolness of the house, she called Marcella as she filled a glass of water and went to the office, where she’d stashed the infant and birth supplies.
“Hey, girlfriend,” her friend said jauntily. “All ready for the big day?”
“Getting there. I guess. If anyone can ever be ready for a thing like this.” Lei stood over the pile of gifts from the baby shower at the station. She knelt and extricated the new diaper bag, the phone to her ear. “Getting our stuff packed, just in case.”
“Been feeling okay?” A note of concern in Marcella’s voice. “Any spotting? Contractions?”
“Yeah, a little of both, but since I’m a first timer, I don’t really know what to expect. I think everything’s fine.” She traced the curve of her belly. “The baby has been quiet the last few days.”
“When’s your next wellness checkup?”
“Monday. Still three weeks until the due date.”
“Well, keep me posted. Jonas can’t wait to meet his baby cousin.” At some point in their friendship with each other and Sophie Ang, they’d decided they’d be unofficial sisters since they were all only children. The arrival of Marcella’s baby, Jonas, nine months before had drawn the three of them closer, but it wasn’t Sophie that Lei called at times like these—it was Marcella, already married and a mother. Sophie would be nervous as hell talking about these issues.
They chatted about Marcella’s FBI work as Lei sorted the green and yellow baby clothes she’d washed, the tiny diapers, a bottle and formula in case of breastfeeding problems, a rubber pad for changing. Her own bag for the hospital was a gym duffel, and she filled it with changes of clothes for herself and Stevens, socks, more cloths, and a rubber pad, ear syringe, scissors, a scented candle, and an older iPod loaded with soothing music.
Lei wrapped up the call. “That tropical depression is moving in, and I need to get to the beach before the weather shuts it down. I’m so hot and sore today.”
“Sounds good. Let me know as soon as things get going. I want to be on a plane to come support you.”
“Thanks, Marcella.” A wave of gratitude swept over Lei as she ended the call—she had wonderful friends. She’d come such a long way from the isolated, damaged woman she’d been nine years ago.
“Bags are packed,” Lei told Keiki, who’d followed her to the doorway of the office. Keiki hated storms, and she seemed to be able to sense the change in barometric pressure. Her warm brown eyes tracked Lei anxiously as she pulled herself up from the floor with the aid of the office chair. “Off to the beach.”
Ho`okipa was too rough for swimming today, so she drove on by. The wind smacked Lei’s truck, making it shimmy a bit, as she drove past the famous beach break. Palm trees bent and whipped in the wind, and storm clouds boiled low on the horizon. Hardy surfers, undaunted, were working the good-sized surf churned up by the approaching storm. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, the water was sure to be rough—but her body craved the weightlessness of floating.
The ocean was an inviting cool aqua in spite of the overcast, threatening conditions as she walked through the sand to the calm bay where she liked to swim at one end of the beach. The place was almost deserted due to the storm, so in spite of the leash law, she let the dogs off and threw a stick for them to tire them out, finally tying them up to a large hunk of coral.
Her aching, uncomfortable body became weightless, supported by the salty ocean, and the relief made her groan with pleasure. Lei lifted her feet off the bottom and simply floated for long moments, her belly a mound above the surface, arms spread, her face to the cloudy sky as she relished the sense of no pressure anywhere on her overtaxed body.
The wind batted at her, spattering a little whitewater into her mouth. That storm was increasing. Sputtering, she turned over and began the series of laps she usually did. Her belly might slow her down, but her arms and legs were still strong. She churned along, getting her heart rate up but supported by the cool water.
Lei hadn’t been swimming long, her arms churning and legs kicking, when a tremendous cramp squeezed her midsection, stealing her breath.
Unable to do anything but gasp, Lei instinctively rolled onto her back to keep her face out of the water, her arms clasping an abdomen that had gone steel hard. Waves splashed into her open, panting mouth as she tried to stay upright and get through the unexpected contraction, but it didn’t let up in a few seconds like earlier ones had.
This one went on and on.
Lei blew shallow breaths, contorted around the spasming muscles. This couldn’t be the real thing; it was too soon—but she’d never felt anything like this before. Her legs involuntarily drew up against her belly. She tried to straighten them, to feel for the bottom with her feet. Extending her legs increased the pain, but she persisted—and still couldn’t find it.
Don’t panic. Just float. You couldn’t sink right now if you tried. Get through this and then swim to the beach. Just relax. Fighting it will make it worse.
The voice in her head spoke in Tiare’s authoritative tones, calming her. Lei shut her eyes and just floated, her arms and legs relaxing as she kept her face above the water.
The endless cramp finally let go. She lifted her head to see that she’d swept out considerably from the beach. Her gaze found the yellow lifeguard tower. She only had to wave for help for it to come to her—but she didn’t want that drama. She wasn’t in trouble yet. This was no problem. She swam farther than this every day.
Lei rolled over and went into a gentle breaststroke, worried she’d set off another contraction with too much vigorous activity. She’d almost made it to the beach when the next one hit, a breath-stealing, powerful squeeze that wrung a gasp from her. Fortunately, her feet were touching the ground, and she moved them gently along the sand bottom as she did her Lamaze breathing, arms moving in slow strokes.
The contraction eventually let go. She hadn’t moved too far out this time, and she gently swam the remaining distance to shore.
A sense of urgency to get home filled Lei, but she tried to think it through. Everyone said first babies took forever. There was no emergency here. Still, it would be good to be safe in her home, and maybe the contractions would back off if she rested.
She staggered up the beach, wobbly from the extremity of only two of the cramps. Retrieving the dogs, she made it to the truck before the next one hit.
This time she could see what the contraction was doing to her body as she clung, panting, to the open tailgate. Her belly changed shape, becoming almost triangular, ridges of powerful muscle doing their job and drawing her abdomen into a focused peak. The dogs jumped into the truck bed as Lei clung to the vehicle. She hung her head between her arms, leaning forward and breathing through it until, a full minute later by her count, the vise finally loosened.
“Holy crap. That’s intense,” Lei panted, straightening up to look at the dogs’ worried faces as they peered down at her. “But this is a first baby. I’m sure we have plenty of time.”
Lei slammed the tailgate and got in the vehicle. She’d just drive home slowly. She could do this.
She got on the road for Haiku, fairly empty of traffic due to the storm, which had now decided to dump buckets of rain. With her windshield wipers flapping at full speed, Lei put in her Bluetooth and called Stevens. He didn’t answer, and she wasn’t ready to leave him a message until she talked to her labor coach. She ended the call and rang Tiare.
“Hey, girl.” Tiare’s mellow alto voice immediately calmed Lei’s jangled nerves.
“Hey. Can you meet me at the house? I think I’m in labor.”
“What?” Tiare’s voice sharpened. “Sure it’s not just Braxton-Hicks?”
“No.” Lei didn’t have time to explain as another contraction grabbed her in its fierce fist. She panted, emitting an involuntary moan as she put her blinker on and pulled over onto the grassy shoulder.
Lei leaned her head on the steering wheel, steeling herself and holding her breath instinctively.
“Don’t grit your teeth. That sends a message to your autonomic nervous system that you’re in distress, which only makes you tighten up more—which makes it hurt more. Open your mouth slightly. Put the tip of your tongue on the roof of your mouth then keep your jaw loose. Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth, nice and slow. Focus on counting to keep your mind calm.” Tiare’s strong voice coached Lei through it. Finally she got on the road again.
“This is so much more intense than I thought.” Tears prickled Lei’s eyelids. “I’m scared.”
“You’re going to be fine. Now go lie down. More activity could get things going more, and this is early. It might just be false labor.”
Lei couldn’t bring herself to tell Tiare she was driving home from the beach. “Okay.”
“I’ll be over in half an hour or so. I just have to wrap up some things here at work.” Tiare ended the call.
The drive from the beach to Haiku usually took twenty minutes, but with the rain, whipping wind, and four contractions that Lei had to pull over for, the drive seemed endless by the time she finally made it through the gate.
Relief to be home warred with worry about what was happening as she let the dogs out and gave them fresh water.
A hot shower. Now, that would feel good.
Their shower was oversized, and she had a small plastic bench in there already because she’d enjoyed sitting to wash as her pregnancy progressed. Now that bench was perfect to cling to, hot water pouring down her back, as she endured another contraction.
They did not seem to be slowing down, instead lasting longer as she took to counting the seconds—well past a minute in duration.
It was okay that this was happening. She was fine. Healthy and strong. The baby was only three weeks early and would be fine, too. It would be okay if this was it. She could do this. Tiare would be here soon. There was no room in her mind or her body for any but these simple thoughts.
Getting out of the shower, Lei donned the flowered muumuu she wore in the house and called Michael’s cell. It went immediately to voice mail—he must still have it off—but it was time to leave a message.
“Honey, I’m in labor. I think it’s the real thing. Tiare’s on her way over. Don’t worry. I’m okay.” Tears started again. She wasn’t okay. She was scared and already overwhelmed. “I just thought you should know. Call me.”
She called Marcella and left a similar message. And then she staggered into the bedroom and fell onto the bed, squeezed by the strongest contraction yet.
Chapter Seventeen
Stevens
Stevens eyed the Filipino farmer as he shook Teo Benitez’s hand, notici
ng the hornlike quality of the man’s calluses. Benitez was sensibly dressed in baggy canvas cargo pants, a long-sleeved cotton shirt, and a worn logo cap. His seamed face was the color of well-rubbed oak, and he seemed such a part of his farm that he might have grown there among the lush lettuces where they stood.
“Thanks for taking the time to talk to me. I understand from Wayne that you have some information you think might be helpful in solving the cases involving Feast.”
“I do. Come where we can sit down.” Benitez led Stevens down the row of lettuce and across to a prefabricated shed with an additional stretch of roof added to form a shaded area. A picnic table with built-in benches provided a break area. They sat. Benitez picked up a battered Thermos, poured coffee into the lid. “Coffee? I can find a cup somewhere . . . ”
“No thanks.” A particularly strong gust of wind hit them, rattling the shelter. “Seems like the weather’s coming in.” Stevens took out his trusty spiral pad.
“Yeah. That tropical depression is supposed to hit this afternoon. We’re harvesting everything we can—the wind and rain is bound to beat down the plants.” Benitez drank from the metal cup, wiped his mouth. “Something’s off with my contact at Feast. Felipe Souza.”
“Wayne told me you were concerned about his behavior. Tell me more.”
“He was just off. Staring into space. Had the shakes. Didn’t respond when I called his name.” Benitez described Souza’s behavior on the day of Bukowski’s murder. “When I heard about another guy at Feast getting killed, I thought he might know something about it. Would explain why he was so upset.”
“Thanks.” Stevens noted the comments in his pad. “How long have you known Souza?”
“Six months? Maybe a year? He’s not from here.”
“Oh, yeah? Where’s he from?” Stevens thought back to the young man’s olive complexion and dark hair. He looked Latino, but the name could be from anywhere.