Poe's First Law: A Murder on Maui Mystery

by Robert W. Stephens

  Daniel had lied about owning a dog. Lee Walters had conveniently left out the part about his offer to kill his best friend to get back in good graces with Mele Akamu. Stan Cross had most likely lied about not being willing to work with Eric Ellis because he didn’t trust him. Oleen Akamu had lied about seeing the murder, and even Detective Parrish had lied about how he’d found the safe behind the bookcase.

  The only people who’d actually told me the truth were Daniel’s grocery store co-worker, the locksmith, and the loan shark with the unfortunate name of Popcorn. But none of those things accounted for my reference to the Rule of Three. That was specifically three comments that three different people had made to me.

  Mele Akamu told me a story about a hypothetical death that had occurred two decades ago. Stan Cross said that Mele Akamu couldn’t escape her crimes, even if they were decades old, and Luana Hu said her ex-husband would never be forgiven for his transgressions even though they’d been committed decades ago.

  Three references to crimes or misdeeds made decades ago. The Rule of Three. I placed the iPad on the patio table and stood. I knew who I needed to speak to next.

  32

  Tough Cases

  The murder of Eric Ellis was a particularly difficult case to solve, mainly because there were so many possible suspects. There was also the fact that the murder was five years old. People’s memories were surely affected by the passage of time, and of course there’s all the lies I mentioned a moment ago. I’d quickly reached the point where I didn’t know who or what to believe. Granted, this was nothing new, but I hoped my wild theory about this case dating back farther than anyone realized would pay off.

  I’m sure you’re getting whiplash by reading about my multiple journeys across Maui, but such is the case when conducting a murder investigation. Fortunately, I had good timing on my side, and I was able to get to the Maui jail before visiting hours were concluded. After entering the building, I asked to speak with Mele Akamu, our favorite godmother of Maui.

  As before, I was already seated at the table in the visitor area when they brought her out. I expected her to look worried or even angry with me for having left her employ and not speaking to her about it. She didn’t.

  “Hello, Mr. Rutherford, imagine my surprise at seeing you here. I was told you quit my case,” she said, and she sat opposite me.

  “Not entirely.”

  “I thought that might be the situation. I didn’t think you’d care for Ruben. He has a tendency to rub people the wrong way.”

  “Yes, there is that. Might I suggest you hire another attorney?” I asked.

  “Your friend, Ms. Winters, perhaps? Didn’t she quit my case too?”

  “One can only take so much verbal abuse.”

  “How may I help you?” she asked, ignoring my statement. “I assume you’ve learned some things that you want to run by me.”

  “Just a few. Does either Tavii or Oleen know the security code to your safe?”

  “No. They have no need. Samson doesn’t even know it.”

  “You’re the only one?” I asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “I figured it out, by the way. Your birth year combined with your late husband’s.”

  “My, you are resourceful. It seems I erred in not coming up with a more original code. Is that how someone else was able to plant the gun or are you confessing to me that you did it?” she asked, and then she smiled.

  “You seem to be in remarkably good spirits despite the gravity of the situation.”

  “I have faith in you.”

  “I hope that faith isn’t misplaced,” I said.

  “My instincts about people are usually right.”

  “The night Eric was killed, did you or Samson call him around three in the morning?”

  “No. I’m sure I was asleep at that time. If I’d wanted him dead, then I would have shot him at a more reasonable hour. Who told you I called him at that time?”

  “Eric’s lover.”

  “Ah, so I wasn’t the only one he betrayed,” she said.

  “Last question. In one of our earlier conversations, you referred to a hypothetical killing where a body and the weapon were dumped in the ocean. Hypothetically speaking, what might have been the name of that hypothetical person?” I asked.

  Mele Akamu said nothing.

  “It’s important. I wouldn’t be asking otherwise,” I continued.

  Mele Akamu leaned forward and whispered in my ear.

  “Ronan Huff. His name was Ronan Huff.”

  “Thank you.”

  “How’s my grandson doing by the way?” she asked.

  “He’s fine. I saw him the other day.”

  “And his lovely wife, the one who’s trying to make sure I stay in here?”

  “I believe she’s struggling to find her way after leaving Tavii,” I said.

  “I think what you meant to say was she’s struggling after I stopped paying her bills.”

  “There is that.”

  “Thank you as always, Mr. Rutherford. I wish you good luck,” she said, and she stood.

  I left the jail and walked back to my car. Imagine my surprise when I saw Detective Parrish sitting in the front seat of my convertible.

  “Tell me, Poe, how do you like driving this car? That is what your friends call you, isn’t it, Poe?”

  “I didn’t realize we were friends now.”

  “Oh, I think we are. We came to an understanding last time. We’re both working for the same team, after all.”

  “Why do you think it’s okay to sit in my car?” I asked.

  “I’ve always wanted to try one of these out. It’s a bit cramped in here, especially for someone of your height.”

  “Driving with the top down seems to make up for it.”

  “Yes, I bet you feel rather special cruising around the island in your fancy car,” he said.

  “Do you intend to get out or do I need to ask you to get out?”

  Detective Parrish opened the door and climbed out.

  “I’m surprised you leave the top down. Someone can get in your car so easily, maybe even plant something.”

  “I keep the glove compartment and the trunk locked,” I said.

  “Good idea. So, did you come here to see your client?”

  “Former client. I swung by to officially let her know that I’d left her investigation.”

  “May I ask why you dropped her case?”

  “Three reasons. I don’t like being lied to. I don’t like her attorney, and I don’t want to work for someone who’s obviously guilty.”

  “You’ve finally admitted the truth? What convinced you?” he asked.

  “The gun in the safe behind the bookcase. I spoke to the locksmith today. His information confirmed everything for me.”

  “Didn’t believe what I had to say?”

  “No, not especially.”

  “Maybe we aren’t friends, after all.”

  “No, I’ve decided that we won’t be, but that doesn’t mean you’re wrong about Mele Akamu. What I couldn’t figure out before is why she’d hire me to find the killer when she already knew who’d done it. It finally occurred to me that she likes playing games.”

  “That’s it? She likes playing games?” he asked.

  “That was part of it. The other part is that I was the wildcard. She wanted someone driving around the island and getting in the way. The more confusion I could cause, the more it would help her.”

  “Maybe you’re not as arrogant as I thought you were.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.”

  I walked past Detective Parrish and climbed into my car.

  “Have a good day, Detective. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to drive home in my fancy car.”

  I started the engine and backed out of the parking space. Detective Parrish watched me the entire way until I turned out of the lot and made my way down the road. I drove a short distance and then turned into the parking lot for a coffee shop that
I’d frequented with Alana. I parked the BMW in the shade of a tree and pulled out my phone. I dialed Alana and she answered immediately.

  “Hey, there,” she said.

  “Can you do me a favor? Can you find out everything there is to know about Ronan Huff and his disappearance? But be quiet about it. Don’t let anyone know you’re looking.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Mele Akamu had him killed around twenty years ago. He’s connected to Eric Ellis’ murder somehow.”

  Alana promised me she’d look into the case, so I put the car in gear again and drove home. I spent the rest of the day not doing much of anything. It was nearing five in the afternoon when Alana called me.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Sitting by the pool and listening to your dog snore under my chair.”

  “Can you make it up to Harry’s in a couple of hours. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  “Who?”

  “His name’s Nathan Buckley. He’s a retired detective. We overlapped by a couple of years at the department. He retired well before I made detective.”

  “He investigated the Ronan Huff case?” I asked.

  “Yes, and I promised him free drinks at your bar if he told us what he knew. Nathan is one of the good guys. If there was anything to find regarding Ronan Huff, then I guarantee you he found it.”

  “I’ll see you there at seven, and I’ll tell Foxx to break out the best bottle of scotch.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I got to the bar about thirty minutes early and brought Foxx up to speed on my conversation with Daniel Davis’ co-worker, the loan shark named Popcorn, and my ability to get into Mele Akamu’s safe. I also told him about my still-forming theory that the motive for the Eric Ellis murder had started years before.

  Alana arrived right at seven, followed by retired Detective Nathan Buckley a few minutes after that. I guessed his age at around eighty. He was of average height and weight, which I was sure was because most people on the island eat healthy food. That’s not hard to do given all of the delicious fresh fruit to be found.

  Alana greeted Detective Buckley at the door and led him over to the bar.

  “Poe, Foxx, this is Nathan Buckley, one of the department’s most distinguished detectives,” Alana said.

  “I don’t know about that,” he said, and he shook our hands.

  “What can I get you to drink, Detective?” Foxx asked.

  “Please call me Nathan, and is it possible for you to make me a Manhattan?” Nathan asked.

  “You just became Poe’s new friend. That’s his drink too,” Alana said.

  “No wonder you married the guy. He has good tastes,” Nathan said.

  “I try my best,” I said.

  “What would you like, Alana?” Foxx asked.

  “How about a dirty martini?” she asked.

  “A dirty martini it is,” Foxx said, and he started mixing our drinks.

  Nathan Buckley turned to me.

  “Alana says you have an interest in an old case of mine.”

  “That’s right. The Ronan Huff investigation. What do you remember about it?” I asked.

  “I remember everything, especially since I reviewed my old files after Alana called.”

  “First, who reported him missing?” I asked.

  “A neighbor of his. She was babysitting Ronan’s son and she called the police when Ronan didn’t come home.”

  “Where was Ronan’s wife?” Alana asked.

  “She’d died in a car accident a few weeks before. It was all very tragic,” Nathan said.

  “Did you have any suspects?” Foxx asked, and he handed Nathan his Manhattan.

  “We had one, a very good one. Mele Akamu,” Nathan said, and then he took a sip of his drink. “Excellent Manhattan.”

  “Thank you.”

  Foxx slid Alana the dirty martini. Then he handed me my Manhattan.

  “Thanks, Foxx,” I said.

  “Let me guess, you weren’t able to pin anything on Mele Akamu because she had a solid alibi,” Alana said.

  “Her son swore she was with him, but we never thought she did it herself. She had plenty of people who would do her dirty work for her,” Nathan said.

  “Was there a reason why she would have wanted to kill Ronan Huff?” I asked.

  “Word on the street was that he’d stolen from her.”

  “But no body, no case,” Alana said.

  “It wasn’t hard to guess what happened to him. Ronan Huff and the murder weapon were dumped in the ocean,” Nathan said. “That’s what makes this new charge so strange. Why would she have buried that other guy in a field, especially after she’d gotten away with the other murder?”

  “We share your suspicions,” Foxx said.

  “This man, Ronan Huff, was he associated with Stan Cross in any way?” I asked.

  “Not that I know of. Stan wasn’t much of a player back in those days,” Nathan said.

  “The boy that Ronan left behind, what became of him?” I asked.

  “He didn’t have any other relatives, so he got put in the foster care system. I kept in touch with him for a few years because I felt so bad for him. He got lucky and got adopted by a family.”

  “What was the boy’s name?” I asked.

  Nathan told us.

  I turned to Alana.

  “Now we know who killed Eric Ellis,” I said.

  33

  Your Honor – Part 2

  I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, “There are things you know and there are things you can prove.” That’s a line that’s been uttered in many cop shows and it fit my situation perfectly. Although I felt satisfied that I knew who’d killed Eric Ellis and why, I couldn’t prove it. Everything was circumstantial evidence. I also didn’t think there was any way I’d be able to trick the killer into revealing themselves as I had in past cases. So, I decided to steal a play from the killer’s playbook, and I went into long-game mode.

  Six months had passed since my meeting with Alana and the retired detective, Nathan Buckley, and I found myself once again driving to the courthouse in my little roadster. Mele Akamu’s case had finally gone to trial. I hadn’t attended any of the court sessions, but Mara had been kind enough to give me regular updates.

  Despite the perfect weather for my commute into Kahului, I felt a nervousness in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t like appearing in court, which I believe I mentioned at the beginning of this tale. But it was time to put on the show, and one must find a way to rise to the occasion when an innocent person’s life is on the line. Of course, I didn’t believe Mele Akamu was all that innocent, especially in regard to the death of Ronan Huff, but I knew that she hadn’t murdered Eric Ellis.

  When I walked into the courtroom, I saw Alana sitting near Detective Josh Parrish in the crowded gallery. Neither was to appear on the witness stand on this day, but I assumed they were both wondering what I had to say.

  Perhaps I should clarify that. Alana already knew my testimony since she’d helped me rehearse it the night before. That had come after a handful of practice sessions with Mara. What did I think was Detective Parrish’s attitude regarding my courtroom appearance? I’m sure he was curious, perhaps even a little worried. He had labeled me as unpredictable, after all. This was the case of a lifetime for him and he didn’t want me screwing it up.

  I said hello to Mara, who was seated beside a confident-looking Mele Akamu. I then said hello to Mrs. Akamu. Mara had taken over the legal case after Mrs. Akamu had dismissed her longtime attorney, Ruben Dalton. In full disclosure, she’d done so at my recommendation. I’d told her that I didn’t believe Mr. Dalton had the temperament needed for a murder trial, and I suggested that Mara could do a better job of connecting with the jury.

  The prosecution, led by the always reliable Piper Lane, had concluded their case the day before, and I was to be the first witness called by the defense. After the judge and jury came into the courtroom, Alana gave me a slight smile
. She knew what was coming next.

  “The defense calls Edgar Rutherford to the stand,” Mara said.

  I walked behind the witness stand and the bailiff approached me with the Bible. I put my left hand on the Good Book and raised my right hand.

  “Do you swear that the evidence you are about to give is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” the bailiff asked.

  “I do,” I said.

  “Have a seat, Mr. Rutherford,” the judge said.

  Mara walked to the witness stand as I sat down. She was dressed in a navy-blue business suit and her red hair was pulled back in a tight bun. The woman radiated a cool and collected attitude. I glanced at the jury. I could tell they liked her.

  “Good morning, Mr. Rutherford.”

  “Good morning, Ms. Winters.”

  “Mr. Rutherford, in what capacity did you work for Mele Akamu?”

  “She hired me to investigate the murder of Eric Ellis, a long-time associate of hers.”

  “At the time she approached you, did she give a reason as to why she wanted this murder solved?” Mara asked.

  “Yes. She said she thought the police might think she was guilty of the crime because of her association with Mr. Ellis and the bad way it had ended.”

  “Did you take her case, Mr. Rutherford?” Mara asked.

  “I did.”

  “During your investigation, how many people did you interview?” Mara asked.

  “I don’t remember the exact number. It was several people, though.”

  “Does the name Stan Cross mean anything to you?”

  “Yes, his name came up during a few of the initial interviews I conducted.”

  “What is Mr. Cross’ relationship to Mrs. Akamu?”

  “They’re business competitors.”

  “You said that his name came up during these interviews. For what reason was he mentioned?”

  “I always ask people who they think had motive for the murder. His name was mentioned in that capacity by more than one person,” I said.