“You’re kidding. Foxx can’t stand him.”
“That might have been true at one point, but I suspect Yuto gained a lot of respect from Foxx when he stood up to him. Plus, Yuto showed Foxx a lot of compassion after he got hurt. There’s one other thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Foxx knows what it’s like being on the receiving end of your sister’s wrath.”
“Yeah, but you can’t blame Hani for this one. Yuto really screwed up.”
“I’m not blaming Hani.”
“What do you think will happen? Will she call off the wedding?” Alana asked.
“I don’t know. If you’d asked me that question an hour ago, I would have said no.”
“What changed?”
“I thought back to some of the conversations we had in the last year about those two. We both felt that Hani didn’t really love Yuto, at least not at the level that someone should feel before entering into a marriage. Maybe this is an excuse to call things off.”
“Hani doesn’t need an excuse. She can just say no.”
“I understand that, but I’m talking about an excuse in her mind that she won’t feel guilty about.”
“I don’t think you’re being fair to her.”
“Sorry. Maybe I’m not.”
“Did you tell my father who you were?”
“No, he already guessed. He said Yuto told him about me,” I said.
“Do me a favor. If he comes to see you, tell him you’re not interested in talking. Hold on. First tell him that I have zero interest in a relationship with him. Then tell him to get lost.” Alana said, and she stood. “I’m going to bed.”
“I’ll be up shortly,” I said.
She left the living room and walked upstairs to the bedroom.
Let me ask you a question. Was I being unfair to Hani? Or was Alana ignoring the truth of the situation? I didn’t know. There was one thing for certain. The next week was going to be one for the history books.
9
Jailhouse Interviews
The next morning, I expected Alana to bring up the return of her father again and offer any new insights she might have had. She didn’t. Instead, she asked me about the Eric Ellis investigation, a sure sign that she didn’t want to talk about her father. I told her again about my mixed feelings on whether or not Mele Akamu was guilty. She didn’t offer an opinion on the matter. She just listened.
Then Alana informed me that she was going to see her mother and Hani at their mother’s house. It was pretty obvious what the topic of conversation would be. She didn’t tell me how long she’d be gone, and I didn’t press her for any details. This was a Hu family matter and I assumed they’d ask for my opinion or help if they wanted it.
I spent the morning tidying up the backyard since I’d focused all of my cleaning the previous night on the interior of the house. As before, I found bottles, cups, and plates in all sorts of strange places and I couldn’t believe such a mess was made in only one hour.
I’d just finished hauling the trash bags to the garbage can when my phone vibrated.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Rutherford, this is Henry Mitchell.”
“The same Henry Mitchell who called me a liar on the witness stand?”
“I disagree with your account.”
“Of course, you would,” I said.
“I didn’t call you a liar. I said you couldn’t accurately remember your conversation with my client.”
“Okay, so I’m a drunk with a faulty memory. What do you want?”
“Guy Livingston would like to meet with you. Are you available today?” Mitchell asked.
“Why does he want to meet? So he can tell me I’m an ass for testifying against him?”
“I assure you that’s not the reason for the meeting.”
“Sorry, but I’m unavailable.”
“You owe him, Mr. Rutherford.”
“How’s that?”
“Your testimony was quite damning. You need to find a way to make this up to him.”
“Mr. Mitchell, I say this with all frankness. Either you’ve hit your head sometime in the past or you have the world’s most bizarre way of viewing reality. I spoke the truth on the witness stand. I don’t owe Guy Livingston or you anything. It’s not my fault your client is guilty.”
“That’s the thing, though. He’s not guilty,” Mitchell said.
“What are you basing this on?”
“He told me.”
“Well then, let’s unlock the jail cell and let Guy Livingston go free. He said he’s innocent. He must be.”
“I can appreciate a good sarcastic remark as much as anyone, but you’ve got this all wrong. When you’ve done this job as long as I have, you start to get pretty good at knowing when people are lying to you.”
“Sure, but you weren’t there when I told him about his wife’s affair. The man was enraged.”
“As you would have been if the situation was reversed.”
“But I wasn’t the one who told his investigator that he was going to shoot his wife. I also wasn’t the one who was found beside her dead body a few hours later.”
“He was found there because he’s the one who discovered the body in their house and called the police.”
“You can spin this however you want. The man’s getting convicted. Goodbye, Mr. Mitchell, and good luck with your case. You’re going to need it,” I said.
“I apologize for the way I treated you in court. Is that what you need to hear?”
“No, I don’t need your apology.”
“Would you just do this for me? Would you meet with Guy today? Hear what he has to say. If you’re still convinced that he’s guilty, then walk away.”
I don’t know what convinced me to change my mind. Perhaps it was my desire to fill my head with something that didn’t have to do with Sora Hu and Hani and Yuto’s wedding, but I agreed to meet Guy Livingston and Henry Mitchell in the early afternoon.
I spent the rest of the morning working out. I doubled the usual length of my swim and run. I took Maui on a long walk and I spent a solid hour doing background research on Gracie Ito, the former girlfriend of the murdered Eric Ellis. I found some social media accounts for her, but there wasn’t much of interest in them. I did learn she leaned hard to one political side of the spectrum. Of course, I wouldn’t dream of telling you which way since I do my best not to let politics enter these tales.
After a late lunch, I climbed into the BMW convertible and drove to the Maui jail. I’d been there far too many times in the past. I’d even been a guest myself on a few occasions.
I found Henry Mitchell waiting for me in the parking lot. He thanked me for coming and then we entered the building where we were escorted to the visitor area to meet Guy Livingston.
I expected Guy to hurl some insult at me, maybe even threaten me. He didn’t. Instead, he thanked me for coming as well.
“I’m really hoping you can get me out of this,” Livingston said.
I didn’t respond.
“You can’t possibly think I did it,” Livingston continued.
“The truth is that I don’t know for certain what happened. All I know is what you told me.”
“And you were right. I did tell you that I wanted to shoot my wife. That doesn’t mean I did it. We all say things in anger that we don’t actually follow through with.”
“Why are you calling me this late in the process? Your trial is almost over,” I said.
“Because the other investigator couldn’t find anything,” Livingston admitted.
“What other investigator?” I asked.
“No offense, but I wasn’t going to hire you after I learned what you’d told the police,” Livingston said.
“Who did you hire?” I asked.
Guy Livingston looked at his attorney, and Henry Mitchell gave me a name. I won’t repeat it here since I don’t have anything nice to say about the man.
“He’s known for following unfaithful s
pouses, not conducting a murder investigation,” I said.
“You follow unfaithful spouses. That’s how you learned that Guy’s wife was cheating on him,” Mitchell said.
“It’s a general rule of mine not to take those kinds of cases. Sometimes I come across adultery during an investigation,” I said.
“Will you take my case?” Livingston asked.
“What did your investigator learn? Who did he look at?” I asked.
“He looked more into Bret Hardy’s background, but he found nothing,” Mitchell said.
“Why would Bret Hardy have killed Mrs. Livingston? They were going to run off together. Plus, he’d just received a lot of money when he pawned her necklace and bracelet. He probably thought he could squeeze her for even more money in the future,” I said.
“I’m telling you, I didn’t murder my wife,” Livingston said.
“She was shot with your gun, a weapon that had your fingerprints all over it,” I said.
“Of course it had my fingerprints. I owned it, but I only ever used it at the gun range,” Livingston said.
“And there was no gunshot residue on his clothing when he was tested,” Mitchell said.
I didn’t respond.
“You didn’t know that, did you?” Livingston asked.
“No, I didn’t. But I also didn’t dive into the details of your case. I told the police what I knew about our last one-on-one interaction. That was it,” I said.
“After I left your bar, I started to drive home. But I pulled over before I got there. I was so angry,” Livingston said.
“You were worried you might hurt her,” I said.
“Yes, I was. I know that’s a bad thing for me to admit, but it’s the truth. My wife not only cheated on me, but she lied about the robbery. She took an anniversary gift from me and she gave it to her lover to pay off his debts. Think about that for a minute,” Livingston said.
I didn’t have to think about it. It was a pretty horrible thing for her to have done, but it goes without saying that she didn’t deserve to die because of the act of betrayal.
“Walk me through what happened when you finally got home,” I said.
“I saw her car in front of the house, which surprised me because she didn’t usually get home that early,” Livingston said.
“Do you have any idea why she was there?” I asked.
“I checked with her manager at the bank. He said Lucy left early that day because she was feeling sick,” Mitchell said.
“I’d decided that I was going to tell her to leave,” Livingston said. “We both owned the house, but I’d be damned if I’d let her get our home too. I figured she could go live with her lover for all I cared. I went inside and called out to her. I walked directly back to the bedroom when I didn’t get a response.”
“Why the bedroom?” I asked.
“It’s a small house like most homes on Maui. You can see the living room and kitchen from inside the front door. There’s only one bedroom, so she had to be back there,” Livingston said.
“Where was she exactly?” I asked.
“She was on the floor of the bedroom,” Livingston said.
“But where exactly in the bedroom? Was she beside the bed? Near the doorway?” I asked.
“Near the doorway, maybe a few steps inside the room.”
“Where on the body was she shot?”
“Twice in the chest,” Mitchell answered for his client.
“Who knew you had a gun?” I asked.
“My wife knew, but that’s the only person I can think of. I’d always go to the range by myself. I didn’t talk about the gun with anyone,” Livingston said.
“Where did you keep the gun and was it locked up?” I asked.
“In the nightstand and I didn’t keep the drawer locked.”
“Why not?”
“Because I wanted quick access to it should someone break into the home. We didn’t have any kids, so it wasn’t like someone could accidentally get their hands on it,” Livingston said.
“When you came into the room and saw your wife, where was the gun?” I asked.
“It was on the carpet near the nightstand. It was like someone had pulled it out of the nightstand, shot my wife, and then dropped it where they stood.”
“What did you do next?” I asked.
“I checked to see if she was alive. I felt for a pulse but couldn’t find one. Then I called 911.”
“Who do you think murdered her?” I asked.
“I don’t know. My wife didn’t have any enemies that I knew of,” Livingston said. He paused a long moment. Then he continued. “I can pay whatever rate you want to take this case.”
“It’s never about the money.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Mitchell said.
“Will you take my case?” Livingston asked.
“Look me in the eyes and tell me whether or not you killed your wife,” I said.
“I didn’t kill her. I swear.”
Have I been fooled by clients before? I think you already know the answer to that question. So, why did I agree to take his case? Let’s chalk it up to insanity at the moment.
“I’m going to need access to your house,” I said.
“That’s easy. We have one of those keypads on the front door. The combination is ten-twenty. It’s my anniversary date,” Livingston said.
“How many people know that code?”
“Just my wife and I.”
“You didn’t share it with anyone else like a pet sitter?” I asked.
“We don’t have any pets and we’ve never needed a house sitter for anything.”
“Could your wife have given the code to someone?”
“She could have, but I don’t see why,” Livingston said.
“Let me know if there’s anything you need from me,” Mitchell said.
“I will. I can’t promise you two there will be some last-minute rush into the courtroom like they have on those TV shows. This could take days, maybe even weeks to uncover the truth.”
Of course, the truth may have already been revealed. Guy Livingston had shot and killed his wife.
“I understand,” Livingston said.
I left Guy Livingston and Henry Mitchell sitting at the table. I was almost back to my car when my phone vibrated. I looked at the display and saw the name Yuto Takahashi.
10
There’s Always Two Sides
As I mentioned earlier in this tale, Yuto works as the general manager of one of the largest hotels in Kaanapali. He’d told me before that he’d reserved two weeks of vacation time for his honeymoon in Paris. Therefore, he didn’t have time to take off the week of the wedding. I say all of this to explain why he asked me to come to his hotel and why he was still working at a time like this.
I could hear the despair in the man’s voice when he called, and I agreed to meet him at once. It took about an hour to get back to Kaanapali due to heavy traffic. I didn’t listen to any music during the drive. I wanted my mind free of distractions as I tried to figure out what I could say to help Yuto.
When I arrived at the hotel, I left my convertible with the valet and headed into the lobby. Yuto must have told the front desk staff to be on the lookout for me, for one of the women picked up the phone and called him as I walked up to her. She put down the phone a few seconds later and looked up at me.
“Mr. Takahashi is on his way now.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Yuto arrived in less than one minute. Had the man sprinted to the lobby?
“Thank you for coming, Edgar. Perhaps we can speak in my office so we can have privacy,” he suggested.
“Of course. Wherever you like.”
I followed Yuto back to his office. It was a small space, much smaller than you’d assume the general manager of a massive hotel would have. I sat down while Yuto walked behind the desk and had a seat on his leather chair.
“I don’t know where to start,” he said.
There
was the obvious question for me to ask. Namely, what in the world were you thinking? But I didn’t do that. What was the point?
“Have you spoken with Hani since the party?” I asked.
“No, I tried calling her, but she wouldn’t answer. She sent me a text message. She asked me to stop calling and not to text her either.”
“You asked her about the wedding, though, didn’t you?”
“I did. She didn’t respond. I don’t think she’s going through with it. I asked you here because I don’t know what to do. There are over one hundred guests coming. They need to be informed if the wedding is off,” Yuto said.
You may be wondering why Yuto seemed more worried about the guests than his relationship with his fiancée. I didn’t believe he was, but the man is a general manager. It’s in his DNA to make sure things run smoothly.
“There’s no need to concern yourself with the guests right now. You can get the word out quickly and you can do it the morning of, if it comes to that. I’m not convinced it will.”
“I appreciate your optimism, but I feel it may be misplaced.”
“Alana is with Hani and their mother this morning. I’m sure I’ll find out later today what Hani is thinking. I’ll slip you the information,” I said.
“You would do that for me?”
“Alana will understand. She’s your friend too.”
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I did what I did,” Yuto said.
“The question crossed my mind a few times.”
“Before I answer that, can I ask you a personal question?”
“Of course.”
“Does Alana ever talk about her father?”
“When we first started dating, I asked her about her parents. That’s when I learned that he’d abandoned them, but she hasn’t really brought him up since then. She said she’d gotten over it.”
“Do you believe that?”
“No, I don’t. But I also know Alana. She buried it deep. His absence isn’t important to her anymore.”
“Hani isn’t the same. I can’t tell you how many times she spoke about wanting to see her father again. That was one of her complaints about Douglas. She constantly accused him of being an absentee father like hers was.”
Poe's First Law: A Murder on Maui Mystery Page 8
