"Okay, let's have a look," Leila said.
At her station, Katie pulled up the video. "Here's the first one to arrive—a black SUV. Unfortunately, due to the low lighting and angle, we can't see the driver, what the person is doing, or the license plate."
Leila frowned. "Damn. That certainly would have been a lot more helpful."
"I know, but the surveillance camera didn't pick that up. I don't know if the driver was just plain lucky or if he or she knew where to park and when in order to make identification difficult, if not impossible."
Leila considered that the killer may have worked for the city and knew the lay of the land, since they had been able to avoid detection in two murders, assuming they were connected. "Let's see the other vehicle."
"It's coming now," Katie said, watching the monitor closely.
Leila watched as a gray pickup truck pulled in and parked near the other vehicle. She saw what appeared to be a dark-haired, solidly built man, perhaps Hawaiian or Asian, get out of the car and grab something from the front seat before heading toward the park.
"Can you hone in on what he's holding?" she asked.
"Sure." Katie backed up the video a bit and turned it into a still shot, zooming in. "Looks like he's holding a bag, maybe with food or garbage."
Leila nodded disappointingly. "He's certainly not carrying a body," she said. "Or making any attempt to hide his identity." Not that this cleared him from suspicion, as he still could have been the killer or working with someone else. "Let's see the footage from when the cars leave—"
Katie complied. The SUV left first, less than ten minutes after arriving. The pickup left an hour after it arrived in the lot.
"So what do you think?" Katie asked.
"I think I'd like to learn a lot more about the SUV and who was driving it," Leila said. Thus far, forensics had not pinpointed any identifying clues on the evidence collected at the crime scene, apart from what belonged to the victim. That meant they still had their work cut out for them to come up with a solid suspect or two.
"We can analyze the security video from the street and elsewhere at the park and cross check them to gather info on the model and license plate. If we're lucky, we'll be able to ID the driver and any passengers—"
Leila nodded. "That would be great."
"Speaking of..." Katie turned toward the computer. "There's also surveillance video from the area where Jackie Furomoto's car was found. Take a look—"
Leila saw the victim's Volkswagen Beetle driving down the street before vanishing from the screen. "Is there more...?"
Katie shook her head. "Not with this particular video. The spot where the car was found was mostly undeveloped and not equipped with surveillance cameras."
"Which seems to play right into the hands of the killer, who likely led her there," Leila said, noting that the killer's vehicle was not on the video, as though planned that way.
"Yep, you're probably right about that," Katie agreed. "We're checking to see if any of the local homeowners have surveillance video that might give us something viable to work with."
Like possibly a dark SUV, Leila mused, though she knew the killer could have used more than one vehicle to transport the victims to different locations.
Leila smiled at Katie in appreciation for her hard work. Unfortunately, it fell short of what they both needed to nail whoever it was that snuffed out the lives of Jackie Furomoto and Yoshie Akiyama.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The following morning, Leila went riding alone, having spent the night at Maxwell's. He had been sleeping so soundly, she decided not to disturb him. Maybe this evening they could go horseback riding together and talk. They were in a good place now and she didn't want to seek out reasons to sabotage it, as she'd done previously with some of her past relationships.
We belong together, she thought, as the horse galloped back toward the ranch. If so, why did she still feel unsettled, like a churning in her stomach? Was it simply a case of nerves in response to being happy in a committed relationship? Or was it something more?
Her thoughts turned to the current case. The alleged serial killer had been dubbed by the press as the "Hula Killer." Through one means or another, the killer was targeting, tracking, and likely luring hula dancers to their painful deaths. So far, this monster seemed pretty focused on one aspect of Hawaiian society. Why? Was there a certain connection to the victims? Or was it all about the art form of hula that triggered the violent crimes? k'12
By afternoon, Leila was still wrestling with this as she and Chung had lunch at a place called The Dishes on Koloa Street in Kahului that featured Asian, Hawaiian, and Polynesian cuisine.
They sat by the window, going over the case and where things stood.
"Based on the time of the last call Jackie Furomoto received on her cell phone and the location of her car," Chung said in between bites of Thai fish cakes, "along with the fact that Yoshie Akiyama's vehicle is still missing, we can assume that both women were not only the prey for some dickhead, but he got them to drive to some remote area, caught them off guard, and then stabbed them right then and there, before carting them off to be found elsewhere."
"If so, then it had to be someone who either knew them or was very familiar with their routine," Leila surmised, taking a bite of her salad.
"Yeah, I think you're right. My money is on someone who is very skilled with knives, like a fire knife dancer."
"That's what I was thinking, too," she admitted, "but a butcher or someone else who works or plays with knives could be just as effective cutting women."
Chung wiped his mouth and said: "We're not just looking for a knife user, but someone who has taken a special interest in hula dancers. It makes sense that it would be someone close to home, professionally speaking."
"But who is he and what is he up to now?" Leila asked, as she mused about some of the men they had already interviewed, including fire dancers and male hula dancers. In truth, anyone could be the killer. Maybe it was someone outside the box who was just pretending to be inside.
"That's what we need to figure out," Chung muttered.
"Yes, while the clock is ticking for another potential victim," she said, taking a sip of coconut juice.
Leila watched as a Hispanic man walked up to their table. He was perhaps in his late thirties, slender, and had black hair that grazed his shoulders. He had a drink in his hand.
"Hey," he said, grinning at her.
"Do I know you?" she asked, studying his face that had some familiarity. She supposed he wasn't bad looking in a disingenuous way.
"No, I'm buddies with your partner here."
Leila looked at Chung, who furrowed his brow. "We're not buddies," he spat. "He's one of my informants." He glared at him. "Get the hell out of here."
The man chuckled derisively. "Okay, whatever you say."
He walked away, seemingly full of himself, and took a seat at the bar.
Leila raised a brow as she gazed at Chung. "What was that all about?"
"Nothing," Chung insisted. "He gives me street info from time to time on cases I've worked on."
"Hmm..." she uttered suspiciously. "You're sure that's it?"
"What else would it be?" His mouth tightened. "He's just an asshole who found his way to our table hoping to score some points with you."
Leila wasn't sure she bought that, even if the man did seem like a player. What else was he into? And what, if anything, did it have to do with Chung?
"Okay," she said, hiding her skepticism. "If you say so."
They spent a few more minutes discussing the investigation, before Chung stood up. "I have to hit the bathroom." He put enough money to pay the bill and cover the tip on the table. "Meet you in the car—"
Leila nodded to that effect and finished her drink. As she thought about Maxwell, she glanced in the direction of Chung's informant. She watched as he got off the barstool and headed in the same direction as Chung. That's odd, she thought. Were they meeting in the ba
throom privately? If so, what were they discussing?
Since they were partners, Leila couldn't think of any official business in which Chung needed to talk to his unnamed informant without her presence. She wondered if Chung was a dirty cop, recalling how she had those suspicions previously, but let them slip under the rug with no proof to support them. Should she just let it go?
She turned her eyes back to where the informant had been sitting. His empty glass was still sitting there.
Impulsively, Leila grabbed her handbag and walked over to the bar. She took a closer look at the glass and spotted what looked like a nice fingerprint. Without hesitation, she used a napkin to lift the glass and quickly tossed it in a plastic bag inside her purse.
Let's find out who you are, she thought, more than a little curious. She thought it might also help shed some light on her partner—for better or worse.
* * *
Chung waited impatiently in the bathroom, royally pissed that Shichiro Gutierrez had showed up at their table, jeopardizing the good thing he had going with the drug dealer. The asshole finally came strolling in with a wicked grin on his face.
"What's up?" Gutierrez asked, as if they had only run into each other by chance.
Chung was having none of it. "You followed me?" It seemed like a logical assumption to him.
"No, man," Gutierrez said, flashing an innocent look. "I just came in for a drink and saw you with your partner, Detective Kahana. I couldn't resist coming over to say hello. And I've gotta tell you, man, she's hot. You banging her?"
Chung glowered at the lascivious suggestion, coming from him of all people. "No, I'm not banging her, asshole."
Gutierrez chuckled. "Then maybe I should go after her. I'll bet she's an untamed tiger in bed."
"You think this is funny?" Chung shoved him hard against the wall and grabbed him by the collar. "You stay away from her!"
Gutierrez played tough. "Or what? You'll end our profitable little arrangement?" He chuckled contemptuously. "I don't think so."
Chung slammed him against another wall and slugged him solidly in the jaw. "If I hear that you've come within a mile of her, I'll kill you!" He drove his fist into Gutierrez's stomach, causing him to moan in agony. "As far as our little arrangement, you think you're the only drug dealer on the island? Think again, asshole. I can replace you in a heartbeat. And I can also make you disappear so you're never found. Or, even worse for you, I could spread the word across Maui that you're a snitch. I think we both know what happens to snitches, even in paradise." He hit him flush in the nose and snarled: "Do we understand each other?"
Gutierrez wiped the blood that was trickling from a nostril and sighed deeply. "Yeah, we do."
"Thought so," Chung said with a satisfied grin playing on his lips. "I'll see you when it's time to collect again—and not before. Now, if you'll excuse me, my partner's waiting."
Chung stepped back into the restaurant, feeling as if he had regained control of the situation, while having Leila's back. He only hoped that she had bought his story about Gutierrez and didn't do something stupid like become suspicious. That would only complicate things all the way around.
* * *
Sitting at her desk, Leila regarded Chung, who had seemed distracted ever since they left the restaurant a couple of hours ago. He was at his desk talking on the phone.
Seizing the moment, she took her handbag and went to the forensic facility. Bypassing Gil Delfino for no particular reason other than he was busy with another detective, Leila came upon forensic examiner Naomi Baker. African-American, the slim thirty-year-old with a pixie haircut had been with the department for over a year, relocating to Maui from Charleston, South Carolina.
"Looking for me?" Naomi asked.
"As a matter of fact, I am," Leila admitted. "I need a favor."
"You've got it." Naomi flashed her teeth. "What do you need?"
Leila removed the glass from her handbag that was sealed inside a plastic bag. "I need to find out who the fingerprint on this glass belongs to and if they have a record."
Naomi took the bag. "Sure, I can do that for you. I should have the results in no time flat."
"Mahalo." Leila smiled, thankful she didn't ask any questions, as they were best left unanswered for now.
* * *
"Erik broke off our engagement," Jan told Leila tearfully that evening. They were at her mountain view condominium on Lower Honoapiilani Road on Kaanapali Beach, a resort community just north of Lahaina.
Leila had responded to a text and rushed over to be with her friend. "Why?" she asked with surprise as they stood in Jan's great room.
"Why does anyone walk away from the altar?" Jan said, blowing her nose. "He got cold feet and he has a cold heart to go with it!"
For a moment, Leila was at a loss for words and could only offer a hug for comfort. "I'm so sorry."
"So am I," Jan cried. "I'm sorry that I gave that bastard my heart and soul and he stomped all over them."
"You should talk to him," Leila suggested. "Maybe if you remind him how happy you were as a couple and the life you could have together—"
Jan cut her off. "He's made it pretty clear that it's a life he's perfectly willing to walk away from. Damn him!"
Leila concurred with that sentiment. She had been on the receiving end of losing a man she thought she had a future with. It hurt like hell, but it got better over time and she'd made peace with it.
She gazed at her friend and said: "I know this probably isn't what you want to hear, but Erik doesn't deserve you. Anyone who would throw away such a good relationship with a beautiful and talented woman like you is unworthy of your tears and regrets."
"I know that," Jan said, wiping away fresh tears. "But the fact that I'm still in love with Erik makes it even more difficult to accept."
"Why don't I pour us both a glass of wine?" Leila suggested sympathetically.
Jan wrinkled her nose. "Thanks, but I think I need something a lot stronger than that."
"All right, let's go out then."
They wound up going to a nearby hotel bar, where Leila listened supportively as her friend poured her heart out after experiencing the ultimate betrayal.
Leila did her best to try to ease the pain and convince Jan that she wouldn't feel like this forever and, further, that her true love was still out there somewhere, even if it wasn't Erik Hollander.
Later that night, Leila was in bed with Maxwell. They had made love for an hour before she told him about Jan's unexpected situation.
"I'm sorry to hear about that," he said sincerely.
"No sorrier than Jan is. She's a mess right now."
"I can understand that."
Leila looked at him doubtfully. "Can you?"
"Of course. We've all had our hearts broken at one time or another and it never feels good. But if you wait it out long enough, the person who is truly right for you will enter your life and make everything that happened along the way seem worthwhile."
Leila smiled. It seemed like he always knew the right thing to say. She hoped she would never be the one to someday break his heart. Or have him break hers.
"Mahalo," she told him softly.
"What's that for?" he asked.
"Just for being you and making me happy you're in my life."
He grinned modestly and kissed her. "That works both ways, Detective Kahana."
Leila opened her mouth to take in more of his kiss and draped her arm across Maxwell's hard chest. She knew a good man when she had one.
But hadn't Jan also felt that way, until Erik proved otherwise?
Leila considered that in her life "good men" had not always measured up to that lofty term. She quickly rejected her skepticism in favor of the man she was about to make love to again.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
He hurriedly poured the flammable liquid over the car, making sure it was sufficiently soaked from front to back, while trying to avoid getting it on himself. Once done, he stepped away and lit a mat
ch. After taking a moment under the cover of darkness to contemplate his prior actions and what was to come, he tossed the match at the car and then watched as it quickly became engulfed in flames.
He admired the blaze, knowing it would achieve his objective and that he would be rewarded accordingly for a job well done.
Now it was time to get the hell out of there and forget this ever happened.
As if that were possible.
So she was gone and never to be forgotten, not even by him. It was just something he would have to live with, like everything else that was rotten over his lifetime.
That was, until he found a ray of light—one that he fully intended to get the most out of for as long as possible.
And if he played his cards right, that could be a very long time.
He ran off into the night down the dirt road, never looking back, as if to do so would force him to come face to face with his sins and any consequences thereof.
* * *
Phoebe Pennock was in her room texting her boyfriend, Ashton, who was planning to throw her a fifteenth birthday party next week, while trying hard to pretend it wasn't happening. Only she had managed to squeeze it out of her best friend, Reece, who was terrible at keeping secrets.
Phoebe was happy to pretend she was clueless, if only to have something to look forward to. Being the center of attention wasn't anything new for her. After all, as an only child, that pretty much went with the territory. And living on Maui, where her long blonde hair always seemed to shine, was an added bonus.
Glancing toward the window, she saw a strange glow in the darkness that caught her attention. Climbing off the bed, she went over to get a better look and saw that something was on fire in the field adjacent to their house. Had someone set a fire as a prank? Or was it a brush fire due to the dry conditions?
Either way, the thought of the fire somehow spreading to their residence frightened her. So she told Ashton to chill for a moment while she alerted her dad of the potential threat.
Murder of the Hula Dancers Page 11
