by Toby Neal
Jake stood up with his usual restless, coiled energy, clearly needing to move. “Let me get you some tea. Sophie, anything?”
“Hot tea would be fine. Thank you.”
Jake disappeared. Through the office door, Sophie heard his bantering tone as he spoke with Felicia at her desk.
She met Kim’s eyes. “I don’t know much about the Merrie Monarch Festival. I will have to research it. As you noticed, it’s only been a couple of weeks since we officially opened our doors. But we have all the resources of our parent company on Oahu behind us. Would you like to know a little more?” Kim nodded, and Sophie went on. “I’m a former tech agent with the FBI. I can find most anything online. I love tracking money trails.” She cracked her knuckles and rippled her fingers as if using an imaginary keyboard.
This seemed to put Kim more at ease, because the woman smiled. “You both seem…impressive.” Her gaze tracked over Sophie, dressed in the black polo shirt and nylon combat pants that she and Jake had decided would be their “uniform” unless they were undercover. “Like you work out a lot.”
“We do. Part of the job. We need to be prepared for any sort of emergency. Jake’s ex-Special Forces with much investigative experience. And you are right in your assessment. We are outsiders here in Hilo. I’m glad that, for once, it’s a strength.” Sophie shrugged. “We enjoy using our skills to help people.”
“You have an accent. Where are you from?” Kim raised her brows curiously.
“I’m American and Thai. I grew up in Thailand and was educated in Europe. I came to live in the US only five years ago.”
Jake returned with Felicia in his wake. The pretty blonde psychology grad student from the University of Hawaii carried a tray with the tea accoutrements on it. She had been sent over from a temp agency Security Solutions had contracted with to help get the agency’s satellite office going, and so far, Sophie found her personable and intelligent.
Felicia set the tray, with its mismatched collection of mugs, on the edge of Sophie’s desk. “Anything else I can get you?” Her gaze fixed on Jake in mute adoration.
Sophie felt a twinge of something unpleasant tighten her gut. Felicia must not know she and Jake were involved. “Thanks, Felicia, that will be all.”
The receptionist left, shutting the door behind her, and Jake dealt with the tea until they all had what they wanted. Sophie wrapped her fingers around her hot mug as the beverage steeped, warming her hands. “Kim. Please continue. When and how did you begin to suspect something was wrong with the festival’s funding?”
“I helped facilitate the grant to the Festival. I’m not on the Board of Directors, so I don’t have access to the financial reports. But the same sponsors were being featured, and the budget is available to organizers to view, and it’s the same too. Only this year, PR and advertising aren’t nearly at the same level as in the past. Everywhere I turn at the planning meetings I’m hearing that we don’t have the money, but I knew the overall budget was similar to last year’s.”
Jake frowned. “Hmm. You don’t have anything more tangible than that?”
Kim looked down at her hands in her lap. “That’s why we can’t go to the police yet. And when I say ‘we’ I’m talking about me and my kumu hula, Esther Ka`awai.”
Sophie jerked, feeling as if she’d been zapped with a red-hot wire. Esther, a well-known Hawaiian wise woman, was Alika Wolcott’s grandmother, and Alika was a painful subject to be avoided at all costs. “Isn’t Mrs. Ka`awai on Kaua`i?”
“I am studying under her. Esther provides cultural advisory oversight to the event. She was the one to put the pattern together and really bring it to my attention. She is able to do a lot long distance.” Kim was oblivious to Sophie’s discomfort. “She and I decided to try to get more information without tipping anyone off that we were looking into it.”
Sophie squelched apprehension at the thought of interacting with Esther Ka`awai. “Who, exactly, is the client?” Sophie looked down at the application in front of her. “To put it bluntly—who will be paying the bill?”
“The Tourism Authority will be hiring you. I went to them with our concerns, and they gave us a budget.” Kim named a figure. “Can you work with that?”
“We certainly can,” Jake said. “To start, we will need all the names and contact numbers that you can give us for everyone involved with the Festival.”
“I have that on computer. I’ll email it to you.”
“We should get eyes on the different players and areas involved,” Jake went on. “Do you have a plausible way to introduce us, bring us around to meetings and such?”
“Something closest to the truth is always the best,” Sophie said. “Jake tends to stand out as a cop or investigator no matter what. Bringing him around as a private security expert to help make sure nothing’s stolen or unsafe makes sense. My skills lie behind a computer. I’ll be looking for the money trail from the bank. Let’s come up with a plan and timetable on how to proceed.”
“I’d like us to get started right away,” Kim said. “The Festival is in a month, and the sooner we find out where the money went, the sooner we can get the funds back and put them to work to make this the best event ever.” Her brown eyes shone almost feverishly. “We owe it to everyone who gives so much to make this event the magnificent cultural event it is.”
Chapter Three
Seated on the top step of his front porch, Terence Chang surveyed the Chang family’s former compound. Terence was proud of how neat the place looked now: he’d removed the many junked cars, the rusting freezer, and the pile of barrels his cousins had stored meth-making chemicals in. His two brindled pit bulls wandered and sniffed around the yard, marking their favorite spots.
Terence sipped his coffee. He liked it black, and fresh, made from one hundred percent Kona beans grown on his own plantation, one of his several legit businesses. He let the fragrant brew roll around on his tongue and settle on his palate, as he gazed down at the expensive black basketball shoes that were one of his few indulgences.
He had tried hard to go straight.
He had made many good changes. He’d gone to college. Built up his own businesses and run interference for the family via computers and managing the Chang family’s legal affairs. Until his cousin Byron, head of the family, had been gunned down, that peripheral role had been enough. It hadn’t been long since the brutal slaying, but the Chang empire already seemed to be coming apart at the seams since Terence’s psycho cousin Akane had escaped just after his trial.
There were those in the family who thought Akane should take over in the vacuum left by Byron’s death—that his brutality and bloodthirstiness were signs of strength.
Terence knew better.
He sipped, trying to regain the simple pleasure the beverage had given him only moments ago.
She had liked his coffee, too.
He refused to let her name arise in his mind—but it did anyway. Julie Weathersby. His own personal Kryptonite.
Julie’s face filled his memory: her wide blue eyes, happy smile, those pale freckles on her nose. The little sounds she made in his arms. The way she snuggled into him, trusting as a puppy.
He’d never been anyone’s hero before.
Terence tightened his mouth bitterly. The coffee tasted like ash.
He’d rescued Julie—picked her up on a deserted road, running for her life from Akane. He’d prevented that brutal rapist batshit crazy serial killer from tearing Julie apart, emotionally and physically.
What he hadn’t counted on was falling for the girl.
Hadn’t counted on letting himself hope he could have some other kind of life and share it with someone special.
But he couldn’t have her. Or that life. Because the worst thing that could happen to the Changs, and everyone around them, would be for Akane to take over the business.
Akane had friends who owed him. Side hustles no one knew anything about. And if Terence didn’t step up to take Byron’s place, there was a ve
ry good chance Akane would come out of left field, waste anyone who offered competition, and bring on a reign of blood like the Changs hadn’t been through since the thirties, when they’d warred with the Chinese triads for power and come out on top.
The phone rang on the step beside him, and his dogs looked up, pricking their ears. Terence read the ID window: Hilo PD. “Terence Chang here.”
Nowhere to hide. No point in trying.
“This is Detective Freitan from Hilo PD. Your cousin’s crime scene has been released. I suggest you contact a cleaning service that specializes in biohazard cleanup and blood removal before you go back onto the premises.”
Freitan was a badass mofo of a female detective. His balls crawled for cover whenever he had the misfortune of dealing with her. “Thanks for the call, Detective. What can you tell me about efforts to capture my deranged murderer cousin?” No sense glossing over the truth.
“Not my case, Mr. Chang. His capture is an FBI matter. I’m sure someone will be in touch with you soon to find out possible locations where your dear family member might hide.” Freitan sounded hard, flippant.
Terence took another sip of coffee to wet his throat. “I appreciate any support Hilo PD can give me in capturing Akane. Believe me when I tell you, we don’t want him around here.”
“I heard you were going straight, Chang. But you sound like you’re speaking for the family on this matter.” Freitan’s tone was serious.
“I’m speaking for the family on this, yes.” Time to “shit or get off the pot,” as his beloved but terrifying tutu, Healani, had always said. It couldn’t hurt to establish his authority with the local PD early on.
“Your concern about Akane’s capture is noted,” Freitan replied. “I’ll let the FBI know that you are their official point of contact.”
“You do that.” Terence ended the call with a punch of his thumb.
He had a lot of arrangements to make, starting with getting in cleaners to remove all trace of the carnage of Byron’s murder. He needed to get the downtown warehouse space ready for a big meeting, and there was no time to waste.
Terence went back into the house, already working his phone. The dogs trailed him as he walked through the redone living room with its spare, modern décor.
He wasn’t going to get the girl or the life he’d hoped for. But he had inherited the office that had been Byron’s, and his father’s, and his grandfather’s—and maybe, just maybe, he could eventually steer the Chang empire in a different direction.
First, he had to step up and take over, and even that wasn’t going to be easy.
Chapter Four
Jake trailed Ando Bautista, the coverall-clad site manager, through the Edith Kanaka`ole Tennis Stadium where the Merrie Monarch Festival was scheduled to be held. Kim had brought him to the multipurpose convex building after their initial meeting and had taken him straight to the property manager’s office. They’d run into several people associated with the Festival there, including the event manager, Ilima Cruz, a majestic Hawaiian woman with considerable presence. Kim had introduced Jake as a “security expert hired by the Tourism Authority Board to make sure the auditorium met safety standards.”
So far, that cover was working. Bautista, a grizzled Filipino of unknown age, had whisked him off to tour the building. Enjoying a chance to talk about his passion, Bautista waxed expansive about his years at the building and the various challenges to setting up events. His pidgin was so thick Jake had to strain to understand.
“Back in the day when the Merrie Monarch first came heah, was small kine. We built a stage with volunteers. Now, the event so big, we gotta build plenty seating to hold ’em all, and it sell out right away. If we had one bigger place in Hilo, we would fill that too.”
Jake paused, hands on hips, surveying the dim, cavernous area, its interior floodlights off. He perused the well-marked tennis court in the center. “I’ve seen video. This place gets packed. I’m not concerned just with the structural safety aspects; in fact, I’m less worried about that. I’m here mostly for personal safety and crime prevention. Can you tell me about any incidents that might have happened over the years?”
“Oh, we get plenny support from the Hilo PD. Off-duty officers direct traffic, provide security. No worries there.” Bautista gestured. “Only place get small kine pilikia was the bat’rooms. Come see.”
“Pilikia. I keep hearing that word.”
“Trouble,” Bautista said. “Some folks, they like fo’ drink or use drugs in the bat’rooms. We get one camera over the door for the event in case we need fo’ see who went in or out. If we get funding for it, one police officer stands outside, too.”
Jake leaped on this opportunity to explore the situation that had triggered the case. “Funding? I heard things are tight this year.” He touched Bautista’s arm, deciding to take a chance on the voluble little man. “Don’t say anything, but part of why I was hired was to check into what’s been happening with this year’s Festival money.”
“You know, I’m just the building manager. I nevah know notting,” Bautista said loudly. He glanced back and forth theatrically, then gestured for Jake to follow. Over near a row of closed garbage receptacles, the building manager leaned close. “I been hearing those guys running the marketing and ads been helping themselves to some of the budget supposed to go to the Festival. My cuz, she one cleaner at the office. She wen’ tell me she think something smell funny cuz never been no ads this year like in the past. Usually the trash cans, they full of all the lists and sketches. This year, hardly notting. Only one big sign near the airport, where everyone going see ’em.”
“Thanks, Mr. Bautista.” Jake noted the agency’s name and took another chance and slipped a rolled fifty-dollar bill into the man’s hand, along with his card. “You are helping the Festival by helping me. Anything else you come across, give me a call.”
“I do dat.” Bautista nodded, slipping his hand into the pocket of his coveralls.
Jake returned to the building’s main office and glanced at the wall clock over the property manager’s desk. Almost five p.m., and the place would soon close. He glanced around. “Is Ms. Cruz still available?”
“No, she had just stopped by to check in on some Festival business,” the clerk manning the phones said. “But she leaves a number with us in case of need.” The girl provided that to Jake.
Jake was already dialing as he headed through the building toward the white Security Solutions SUV, currently in ‘stealth mode,’ the magnetic signage touting their services that could be put up on the doors stowed in the vehicle’s storage area. “Ms. Cruz? This is Jake Dunn with Security Solutions. We met briefly at the stadium. Can I get a meeting with you to discuss the security planning for the event?”
“Sure. I was just leaving. Are you still here at the Stadium?”
“I’m in the parking lot.”
“Me too.” Cruz got out of a maroon minivan parked at the other end of the lot and waved, and Jake grinned as he walked toward her.
“Thanks for taking the time to talk right now. Saves me another trip.”
“Sure. Why don’t you get into the van? We can chat in comfort.” Cruz clicked her door unlocked and cleared a stuffed toy off the front seat. “Sorry about the mess.”
Jake hopped in. “Sorry for invading your personal vehicle with company business.”
“Speaking of. What is this security planning you’re doing, and why is the Tourism Authority involved?” Cruz had large, intelligent dark eyes, and a frown line that seemed chiseled between her brows, as if she were used to being skeptical.
Sophie had run a preliminary background check on the woman before Jake left the office, and she was squeaky clean—not even a parking ticket, and Kim had sworn Cruz was on the up and up. “Our firm has been hired to look into possible misuse of Tourism Authority funds.”
“Oh no!” Cruz clapped a hand over her mouth. “This can’t get out. It would ruin our reputation!”
Jake made a set
tling gesture with his hand. “It’s early days yet. We’re just getting started looking into things, and we have no intention of ruining anything. The interested parties just want to make sure that all funds designated for different areas of the Festival are accounted for.”
“Absolutely. I understand.” Cruz nodded. “But please keep this investigation confidential.”
“I probably shouldn’t even have told you.” Jake smiled as boyishly as he could, hoping to disarm the woman. “We hope we’re wrong, that we can find the funds. But if not, we’ll handle everything discreetly. We do Security Solutions no favors incurring the wrath of our clients and any organizations we’re working for, directly or indirectly.”
Cruz seemed to relax a little. She picked up an insulated water bottle from a nearby cup holder and took a sip. “Can you tell me who your client is?”
“I’m afraid not. But it would help us greatly if you, as the program director, could tell us if you have any concerns.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m a little out of touch with the nuts and bolts, to be honest.” Sun pouring in through the windshield had begun to heat the interior; Jake lowered his window as Cruz slid on a pair of sunglasses and turned on the car to get the air conditioning going. “There’s a committee in charge of PR and budget. I attend their meetings, but my focus has been on the competition aspect—making sure that everyone has a fair chance to qualify for the competition, and that the judging is unbiased.”
“I’m sure you’ve got your work cut out for you. Do you rely on Esther Ka`awai to help advise you?” Jake was curious about Alika’s grandmother and her involvement.
“Esther is a treasure, but she’s more for making sure the overall cultural integrity of the Festival is preserved, and that we observe Hawaiian best practices in how we put everything together.” Cruz’s arched brows drew together. “I think our main spend, other than the rental of the actual facility and staff, is on the media and PR for the event.”
