Poe's First Law: A Murder on Maui Mystery

by Robert W. Stephens

  Poe’s First Law

  A Murder on Maui Mystery

  Robert W. Stephens

  Copyright © 2020 by Robert W. Stephens

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For Felicia Dames

  Contents

  1. Your Honor – Part 1

  2. Counter Points

  3. A New Friend

  4. The Philanthropist

  5. The Mayor

  6. The Detective

  7. The Best Friend

  8. The Party

  9. Jailhouse Interviews

  10. There’s Always Two Sides

  11. The Girlfriend

  12. The Father-In-Law

  13. I Didn’t See That Coming

  14. My Protector

  15. Dog Days

  16. The Wedding Planner

  17. The Butler

  18. The Blame Game

  19. The Art of the Bluff

  20. You Give Lawyers a Bad Name

  21. A Turn of Events

  22. Maui Animal Center

  23. The Photographer

  24. The Safe

  25. The Photos

  26. Three Manhattans and a Shot of Tequila

  27. Surf’s Up

  28. The Warehouse

  29. The Affair

  30. Popcorn

  31. The Rule of Three

  32. Tough Cases

  33. Your Honor – Part 2

  34. Karma

  35. The First Law

  Did you like this book?

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Robert W. Stephens

  1

  Your Honor – Part 1

  I thought about calling this tale, Unintended Consequences, for never have I seen so many well-intentioned gestures go so spectacularly wrong. I was guilty of some of them but not all.

  I have a rule, although it’s certainly not my main rule, to never get involved with crumbling marriages. Unfortunately, as an occasional private investigator, that is often unavoidable. Many criminal acts have their beginnings in adultery, which always spins into a web of lies and can even lead to murder.

  Before I go much further with this mystery tale, please allow me a moment to introduce myself and tell you how I got into this mess. My name is Edgar Allan “Poe” Rutherford. I put “Poe” in quotation marks since it’s a nickname of mine. My parents, God rest their souls, were huge fans of the legendary mystery writer, and they assumed that naming their only child after him would be a great honor.

  It was a challenging name to have, as I’m sure you can imagine. Fortunately, my best friend started calling me Poe in the high school years and the name stuck. Most people still call me Poe these days. However, you may call me Edgar if you wish. I’m no longer embarrassed by the name. It’s purely your decision and I will answer to either.

  After graduating from the University of Virginia, I went to work as an architect until that career was stalled during the Great Recession. I was summarily dismissed from my job, but I really didn’t mind. The architecture gig wasn’t what I imagined it would be. Unfortunately, I was at a loss as to what new path I wanted to forge.

  There was also my failing romantic relationship with a woman named Dorothy, who I caught cheating on me with a BMW car salesman. As I look back on those days, it’s obvious to me that Dorothy was mainly motivated by money, and she assumed that a man peddling used Beamers had more of a future than an unemployed and unenthusiastic architect.

  What she didn’t know, mainly because I never told her, was that I am loaded. Forgive me if that sounds obnoxious. Actually, I know it sounds obnoxious, but I don’t mean it to, nor do I take credit for my wealth. Much of that money came from my grandfather, who passed it to my mother, and then it made its way to me. I will take credit for some sound investments I’ve made over the years, but the seed money for that certainly didn’t come from my hard work.

  After the loss of my job and my girl, I was lured to the tropical island of Maui by my friend, Doug Foxx, the same friend I mentioned above who’d given me the name of Poe. Foxx was a professional football player with the Washington Redskins until a nasty knee injury ended his career after two short seasons.

  Foxx came to Maui to heal his injured body and mind. He never left. After a good deal of badgering by him, I finally accepted his invitation to hop on a plane and fly six thousand miles to the island. I’d hoped that after the trip I’d figure out a new direction for my life. That actually happened, but I would have never guessed that direction in a million years.

  During my first night on Maui, Foxx was arrested for the murder of his girlfriend, a successful artist who he’d planned on proposing to during my trip. I was in Foxx’s house when a beautiful half-Hawaiian, half-Japanese detective slapped the handcuffs on him. The Maui detective’s name is Alana Hu and I spent the next several days trying to prove Foxx’s innocence, while at the same time convincing the good detective to help me search for another suspect.

  In fairness to the Maui Police Department, Foxx looked guilty as hell, but I finally managed to wear Detective Hu down and together we caught the true culprit. I wouldn’t dream of giving you more details of my first island adventure, a tale I dubbed Aloha Means Goodbye, but it’s all there for the reading.

  After wrapping up that case, I made the decision to stay on the island and continue to pursue the Maui goddess called Alana. Today, we are married, and we live in an oceanfront home with our dog, Maui, a ten-pound mix of a Maltese and Yorkshire Terrier.

  The new dog breed is called a Morkie. I’ve had a few readers write me and accuse me of making that up. To those suspicious ones who think I bend the truth from time to time, I encourage you to google the term Morkie. You’ll find dozens of images of cute dogs, although none of them are as handsome as my Maui.

  Now, let’s get back to my introduction and the use of the term Unintended Consequences. It’s how I ended up sitting on the witness stand in a Maui courtroom. My tales always involve a murder, and to date, I’ve successfully resolved them all. That doesn’t mean, of course, that the guilty ones all went to jail. The criminal justice system is deeply flawed, although I probably don’t have to tell you that.

  My tales rarely show what happens after the bad guy or bad guys are caught. In some ways, that is just the beginning of the process, as talented Maui prosecutors take over the case and do their best to get guilty verdicts. I’m sometimes called to testify during these trials and believe me when I say that it’s my least favorite part of the process.

  For one thing, I have to lose my customary t-shirt, shorts, and sandals and wear something more presentable. For another, I hate sitting in front of a crowded courtroom and having to perform. And that’s exactly what a court appearance is. We’re all there to put on a show for the judge and jury and convince them that our version of events is the true one.

  It’s probably best that I give you a brief rundown of the case in question. Guy Livingston is a photographer who specializes in taking photos of tourists. He has arrangements with several of the large hotels in Kihei, Wailea, Lahaina, and Kaanapali. They feed him customers, and in return, he gives them a share of the profits.

  His wife, Lucy Livingston, used to be a teller for a bank in Kahului. I say “used to be” since she’s no longer with us. Hence, my reason for being in the courtroom.

  “Mr. Rutherford, can you tell us whe
n you first met the defendant, Guy Livingston?” Piper asked.

  Piper Lane, with her short black hair and dark eyes, is probably Maui’s toughest prosecutor. I’ve had the misfortune of being on the wrong end of one of those prosecutions in the past. Fortunately for me, I wasn’t guilty. Even more fortunate, I was able to prove it.

  “I met Mr. Livingston in my bar, Harry’s,” I said.

  Harry’s, by the way, is a Lahaina-based bar that I co-own with Foxx. It’s a few blocks off of the famed Front Street – the tourist strip known for a fascinating and fun collection of art galleries, shops, and restaurants. Harry’s is loved by both locals and tourists. Locals love it because they get to escape the crazy crowds on Front Street.

  Tourists love it because it makes them feel more like locals. Both groups are fond of the lower-priced drinks and food. There’s also Foxx, the main attraction of the bar. He excels in entertaining guests with tales of the NFL, as well as his involvement in many of my criminal investigations.

  “What did you and the defendant discuss while he was at your drinking establishment?” Piper asked.

  I smiled.

  “Is something funny, Mr. Rutherford?” Piper continued.

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to appear to make light of these proceedings. But your use of the words ‘drinking establishment’ is a bit too nice for my bar. It’s more of a dive. In answer to your question, Mr. Livingston said that he’d heard that I was a private investigator, which I am, on a part-time basis.”

  “Did the defendant ask to hire you?”

  “Yes. He told me that his wife had been mugged and her diamond necklace and tennis bracelet had been stolen. He said that they were anniversary gifts to his wife. He was very upset.”

  “Objection, your Honor,” Livingston’s lawyer, a short, stocky man named Henry Mitchell said. “Does Mr. Rutherford really assume to know how my client felt that day?”

  “Sustained,” the judge said.

  “Mr. Rutherford, did you take his case?” Piper asked.

  “I did. I don’t normally take theft cases, but I had some free time…” Okay, this wasn’t exactly true, but I’ll explain more in a minute. “…so I told him I’d do my best to find the missing jewelry.”

  “What happened next?” Piper asked.

  “I checked with my wife who is a Maui police detective and verified that a police report had been filed. I then talked to the officer who’d made the report.”

  “What did you learn?” Piper asked.

  “They had no leads. There was no security camera in the shopping plaza where the robbery took place, and Mrs. Livingston’s physical description of the suspect fit hundreds of men on Maui, if the man was still even on the island,” I said.

  “How do you proceed in a situation like that? It seems rather daunting.”

  “I met with Mrs. Livingston and she gave me the same physical description of the suspect. Then I went to the plaza where she’d been robbed. While I was walking around, something jumped out at me.”

  “Which was?”

  “When I’d been to the Livingston’s home earlier that day, I’d noticed there were several boxes of food from Nutrisystem, which is that company that helps you lose weight. I asked her about it, and she told me that both she and her husband were on a diet. She said they’d been on it for a week and both had lost around five pounds. I congratulated her.”

  “Why is that relevant?” Piper asked.

  To be clear, she knew exactly where I was going with it, and she’d asked the question in a serious tone. Also, to be clear, the judge did not, and I thought I saw him roll his eyes at me. Yes, I know, that wasn’t a very distinguished thing for a judge to do, but they’re human like the rest of us.

  “I’d like to know why too,” the judge said in a sarcastic tone, confirming the eye roll I’d seen.

  “It’s relevant because of the shops that were in the parking lot where she was mugged,” I said. “First, there’s an ice cream store and several tourist shops that sell things like t-shirts and hats. It seemed an odd place for a local to go unless she wanted to buy ice cream. That didn’t make sense since she was on a diet and doing rather well.”

  “Was there anything else you noticed?” Piper asked.

  “I went by the shopping plaza several more times and at different times of the day and week. The parking lot was never full, not once, yet Mrs. Livingston had told both the police and me that she’d had to park to the side of the plaza since the lot was overflowing. That’s how she ended up getting mugged since the thief wouldn’t have been able to rob her if she’d been in the main part of the parking lot. Too many shop employees would have witnessed it.”

  “You suspected something wasn’t quite true with her story?” Piper asked.

  “Yes. I started following Mrs. Livingston, which I hate doing since I’m not the type of investigator you get to follow an unfaithful spouse. It’s one of my rules.”

  “You thought Mrs. Livingston was having an affair?”

  “I suspected it, which was confirmed two days later when I saw her with a man.”

  “Who was that man?” Piper asked.

  “I later learned his name is Bret Hardy.”

  “What is Mr. Hardy’s relationship with the defendant, Guy Livingston?” Piper asked.

  “I was told by Mr. Livingston that they were friends, golfing buddies.”

  “Were you ever able to find the missing jewelry?”

  “I was. I looked further at Mr. Hardy and learned he was having financial difficulties. The diamond necklace and bracelet were sold, and the money went to Mr. Hardy to pay off his debts.”

  “How did you determine that?” Piper asked.

  “I made the assumption that the jewelry might be pawned. I also assumed that the Maui Police Department had contacted all of the local pawn shops and had learned the jewelry was not taken there. I also guessed that the thief would know not to sell the necklace and bracelet to a Maui store. So, I checked other islands and discovered the necklace was pawned at a shop on Kauai and the bracelet was sold to another store on the same island.”

  “Who took the jewelry to those pawn shops?”

  “Bret Hardy. I saw him in the surveillance video in both shops,” I said.

  “What did you do then?”

  “I gave the video to my wife since I knew it was a police matter.”

  “And what about Mr. Livingston?” Piper asked.

  “He was my client and I owed him the truth. I asked him to meet me at Harry’s. I told him about Bret Hardy and his wife. I showed him a copy of the pawn shop videos.”

  “What was his reaction?”

  I didn’t immediately answer. Instead, I glanced at Guy Livingston, who was seated behind the defendant’s table. He didn’t look defeated. Rather, he looked angry – angry with Piper, angry with the police, with the justice system, and undeniably angry with me.

  “What was his reaction, Mr. Rutherford?” Piper asked again.

  I turned back to her.

  “He said, ‘I should shoot her.’ Then he left the bar.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “I called my wife and informed her that I’d told Mr. Livingston about the affair and the recovered jewelry. I also told Detective Hu that Mr. Livingston had made a threat, but I hadn’t thought he was serious.”

  “Yet less than two hours later, Mrs. Livingston was shot dead in her own home. No further questions, your Honor.”

  2

  Counter Points

  After Piper walked back to her seat, the defense attorney took a run at me. There was no disputing the information I’d discovered about Mrs. Livingston’s adulterous affair with Bret Hardy, nor Bret’s trip to Kauai to sell the stolen jewelry, which turned out to not have been stolen.

  Instead, Livingston’s attorney attacked my character. He claimed that I was in the police department’s back pocket, especially considering the fact that I often work with law enforcement as a consultant. That was true, at least
in terms of one police detective’s back pocket. I’m sure you can guess her name.

  That good favor didn’t extend to the rest of the department, though. If you’ve read any of my tales before, then you’ll know I often butt heads with the police when I feel they’ve gotten it wrong.

  Livingston’s attorney concluded his attack by accusing me of having told the jury selective parts of my conversation with Guy Livingston.

  Here’s a small snippet of his cross-examination for your amusement.

  “Isn’t it true that you left out a pivotal part of your conversation with my client?” Henry Mitchell asked.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “After you informed my client about his wife’s infidelity, he said, ‘I should shoot her, but I won’t.’”

  “No, that’s not what he said.”

  “That you remember?” he asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I contend that you simply forgot that he said the words, ‘But I won’t.’ You were in a bar, after all. You’d probably been drinking.”

  “I wasn’t,” I said.

  “You were in a bar, but you weren’t drinking?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Let me get this straight. You went to your bar in Lahaina, but you didn’t have a drink?” he asked, and then he laughed.

  “I co-own the bar. I frequently go there to check on the business, and that sometimes involves me having a drink. Often, I don’t have one. I didn’t have one on this occasion. Furthermore, I thought Harry’s was a good location to meet. I was worried about how Mr. Livingston would respond to the news of his wife cheating on him with his friend. I thought it was better to deliver that information in a public place. I felt terribly awkward about it and I thought it less likely he’d cause a scene at the bar.”