Tseng looked up from behind his desk as she entered, the bags under his eyes even more pronounced than the day before. It was readily apparent that he had slept little since leaving her house, a fact accentuated by his rumpled dress shirt and crooked tie. He dropped the pencil he was using, leaning back and running his hands over his face.
“Christ, is it 7:00 already?” Tseng asked.
Kalani fought the urge to look down at her phone, knowing that she was no more than a couple minutes early. “I can wait if this is a bad time.”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Tseng said, pulling his hands away from his face and slapping them down on the arms of his chair. “Just that the day sure got away from me. Please, sit.”
With a nod, Kalani stepped over in front of the desk and settled herself into a leather chair, taking quick inventory of her surroundings.
The space was smaller than she remembered, a fact emphasized by stacks of boxes piled along the walls. Bookcases covered three sides of the room, many of the shelves lined with ancient law volumes. Others held photos and memorabilia from Tseng’s life on the force, stretching back over two decades.
“Was Dr. Song helpful?”
“She was,” Kalani said. “The young woman was killed by blood loss from having her throat cut, which I’m sure you knew from examining the scene.”
“I figured,” Tseng agreed, “but without any blood on-site, it was tough to be certain. What about the cut across her stomach?”
“She was pregnant,” Kalani replied, watching as Tseng’s eyes bulged. “No sign of the fetus, or even the umbilical cord.”
Tseng blew a low, shrill whistle out between his teeth, but remained silent.
“The girl also had scarring around her vagina, consistent with someone who was, or at least had been, active in the sex trade.”
“Good Lord,” Tseng said, shaking his head.
“And she had gonorrhea,” Kalani added. “No sign of defensive wounds anywhere.”
Tseng paused a moment to make sure the report was finished before glancing down at his desk. He closed the file sitting open before him and pushed it to the side, his movements slow and deliberate. Twisting his chair a few inches to the left, he dug into the bottom drawer of his desk and withdrew a thin blue file, dropping it down where the other had been.
“I ran the girl’s prints through AFIS and found her name, Lauren Mann. We picked her up 18 months ago for possession and public intoxication in Makiki. Definitely nothing in the system about her being in the sex business.”
Kalani nodded, making a note of the name. “Local?”
“We have an address from the arrest, an apartment off Ward. You can take a look there in the morning, but I doubt you find much.”
“Transient housing,” Kalani said, nodding in agreement at Tseng’s assessment. She’d seen the type enough times to know that girls involved with selling and abusing their bodies rarely stayed anywhere for very long. “Any next of kin?”
“None listed.”
Tseng slid the file across the desk to Kalani, nothing more than a single sheet of paper with Mann’s photo clipped to it. Kalani studied them both before glancing up at Tseng. “Can I keep this?”
“Sure, but be careful who you show it to. Governor’s called over twice today, wanting to know where we’re at with this.”
Kalani’s eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding me. He realizes these things take time, right?”
Tseng leaned his head back against his chair. “You don’t know the half of it. He’s determined to avoid any publicity that could hurt his election chances. And last night some sicko abducted four kids from a park, jerked all their teeth out, then deposited them back in the same place 8 hours later.”
Surprise and confusion fought for top billing on Kalani’s face as she shook her head from side to side.
“Damnedest thing I ever saw,” Tseng said, leaning back. “Except for a few bruises and their teeth missing, all four boys were fine. No sexual assault, no physical abuse, nothing.”
“That’s. . .,” Kalani began, falling silent without finishing the thought. “And the governor’s on you about that now, too?”
“Oh, yeah,” Tseng said.
She sensed by his stress that his time was in short supply. “Thanks for this. I’ll keep you posted on everything I find.”
“Please do,” Tseng said. “I’ll give you all the support I can from here, but it’s a little crazy right now.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Kalani asked, returning her gaze to Tseng.
“Yeah. Find whoever did this, and fast.”
Chapter Eleven
The black felt bag felt light in Danilo’s hand as he descended the stairs into the basement laboratory. He came to a stop at the edge of the room, a strange odor permeating the air.
“Mr. Cruz, welcome, welcome!” Saiki called from across the lab, his body bent over a telescope at his usual workstation.
“What the hell is that smell?” Danilo asked, taking a step forward, the sack swinging free by his side.
A look of confusion passed over Saiki’s face as he stood, the expression soon replaced by a broad smile. “Ah, yes, the smell. That would be sulfuric acid.”
“Damn,” Danilo muttered. “I’ve been around acid before, but it’s never smelled like that.”
“True,” Saiki said. “That’s because the fetus you brought me two nights ago was tainted. I was forced to dispose of it.”
Revulsion kicked up in the pit of Danilo’s stomach. While he had a healthy amount of respect for Saiki and the role he was meant to play, the man’s complete disregard for basic humanity was appalling.
Even as Danilo held the bag of teeth in his right hand, what the doctor had done was far beyond something he could manage. Perhaps if the man had been the one to track down the girl and remove the fetus from her, he’d be less cavalier about disposing of it.
“How was the sample tainted?” Danilo asked.
“Venereal disease,” Saiki said, shaking his head. “So many young mothers fail to realize how their sins affect their children. Most of the time, it’s a minor inconvenience, something corrected with antibiotics. For what we’re doing here, though…like I said, it renders the batch useless.”
“Hmm,” Danilo grunted, already sensing where this was headed.
“Naturally, this means I will need another specimen, if you’d be so kind,” Saiki said, politely bowing at the waist.
“Have you run this by Zall yet?” Danilo asked.
“I spoke to our generous benefactor just this evening. He said he would be returning from the mainland shortly, and asked that you find a replacement as soon as possible.”
“Any word on what to do with the mother? Do we want another public display?”
“That I don’t know,” Saiki said. “You’ll have to take it up with him.”
Several retorts came to mind, but there was no point in taking out his frustration on Saiki; the man was a lab rat doing his job. More than that, he was a loyal employee, and anything Danilo said would most certainly be reported back up the ladder.
“I got what you asked for,” Danilo said, holding the bag out at arm’s length, letting it swing back and forth.
It took a moment for realization to set in, Saiki’s face splitting into joyous surprise. “Oh my, such a large batch! How many do you think are in here?”
Danilo watched the childlike wonder on the doctor’s face, his own twisting into a scowl. “Four boys. They were all missing at least a couple, but I took every tooth they had.”
“Ages?” Saiki asked, bringing his hands up beneath the bag and squeezing it with his fingers.
“Two of them were very young, no more than five,” Danilo said, disgust thick in his voice. “The other two were a bit older, maybe seven or so.”
“So at least 64 teeth,” Saiki said, “maybe as many as 70.”
Danilo released the bag into the doctor’s hand, happy to be free of it.
; Saiki weighed it up and down twice before cupping the bag in his right hand and using his left to pry it open. Inside was a mass of teeth, the top portion ivory white, the bottoms running the gamut from faint pink to dark red from crusted blood.
Danilo thought back to the night before, taking the young boys to his workshop, injecting them with ketamine and diligently removing each tooth, using needle-nose pliers to pry them out.
Suddenly, the image of doing the same to Saiki entered his mind, the thought of ripping the man’s teeth from his head bringing a smile to his face.
“When do you need the next delivery?” Danilo asked, waiting just long enough to make sure their transaction was complete before taking a step away, leaving the scientist with his new toys.
Without taking his eyes from the bag or its contents, Saiki said, “As soon as you can get it here, of course.”
“Of course,” Danilo muttered, turning and pushing through the lab door.
Chapter Twelve
A thin mist of rain beaded up on the plastic windows of the Jeep as Kalani pulled the keys out of the ignition and sat staring out through windshield at the Palm View apartment building.
“Good thing I zipped the windows in last night, huh?” Kalani asked without looking over at Rip in the passenger seat.
He lowered his head a few inches to stare up at the building before them. “This time of year, it’s a pretty safe bet. I think I just got tetanus looking at this place.”
“Yeah,” Kalani echoed, the same thought crossing her mind.
Built sometime in the middle part of the last century, the Palm View had clearly seen better days. From where they sat, they could see debris lining the walkways, broken bicycle parts and rusted-out grills, discarded trash and smashed beer bottles.
“Shall we?” Kalani asked, her voice relaying more dread than she would have liked.
Rip answered with an indiscernible grunt, stepping out into the mist. Kalani joined him at the front of the Jeep, and together they walked up to the building manager’s office on the first floor.
The stench of body odor and stale cigarette smoke assaulted them as the door opened to reveal a small desk and nothing more. Behind it stood an older man of Middle Eastern descent, an unwelcoming look aimed at them both.
“You cops?” he spat without preamble.
“Why? You do something wrong?” Rip countered, matching the man’s gaze, making no effort to answer his question.
“People like you don’t come here otherwise,” the man said.
Kalani reached into the rear pocket of her jeans and extracted her badge, flashing it at the man. On leave or not, it still served the purpose.
“Good morning, Mr...” Kalani began, waiting for him to answer.
The man clocked his gaze from Kalani to Rip and back again. “Mister will be fine.”
Kalani forced herself not to roll her eyes at the unnecessary show of machismo and tucked the badge back into her pocket. “Okay, Mister, I’m Detective Lewis, this is Detective Ripowski with HPD. We’d like to ask some questions about a tenet of yours.”
“I don’t know nothing about nothing,” Mister said, the hostility in his tone unmistakable.
“Do you recognize this girl?” Kalani asked, showing the photo Tseng had given her.
“No,” Mister said without glancing at the picture.
“Eighteen months ago, she was arrested and gave this as her home address,” Kalani said.
“I don’t know her. Never seen her before in my life,” Mister said, his gaze never once looking at the picture.
Kalani met the stare before she raised it up in front of Mister’s face, the image no more than a couple of inches from his nose. “How about now? Recognize anything?”
“Ever heard the name Lauren Mann?” Rip added, taking a half step closer to the man.
Mister moved his head to the side and said, “I never seen her before. And I’m not so good with names.”
“Not so good with names?” Rip asked. He took another half step forward. “That’s unfortunate…”
Kalani could hear the anger in Rip’s voice. Despite feeling exactly the way he did, and wanting nothing more than to wait to see where the conversation was going, she stepped between them. “Okay, Mister, I think that’s all we need. You’ve been a great help.”
Kalani retreated, grabbing Rip by the wrist and pulling him away with her. The damp morning enveloped them as they walked back to the Jeep.
“Another two minutes, I’d have cracked him,” Rip said. A sliver of animosity remained in his voice.
“Another two minutes, and you’d have cracked his skull,” Kalani countered, turning and staring back at the apartment building.
“Would that have been a bad thing?” Rip asked.
“Not really,” Kalani said, searching for signs of life. In the distance, a television with the volume turned up loud could be heard, though nobody was around outside. “But we’re on orders from the governor to be invisible. Beating the hell out of someone probably wasn’t what he had in mind.”
“Hmm,” Rip replied. In front of him, a rusted-out Dodge Neon rounded the corner, an elderly Chinese woman behind the wheel. She stared over with interest as she passed, Rip matching the look and nodding once at her. “Hold on, we might have something here.”
Kalani turned away from the building and watched the Neon park at the curb. “What makes you say that?”
“Because she either knows why we’re here, or has the worst case of rubberneck I’ve ever seen,” Rip said. He started toward the car and said, “Come on.”
Kalani and Rip strode over to the woman as she climbed from her car. It took some effort as she wrestled her bulk out from behind the steering wheel, pushing the door closed with her backside and resting her body against it.
Standing at full height, she was maybe 5’ tall, almost the same in width, a thick shock of gray hair tied in a bun behind her head. A sleeveless muumuu hung from her body, the floral print faded from years of wear.
“Aloha,” Rip said. “How are you?”
“Aloha,” the woman replied, her breath coming in wheezes. “I’m fat and old. How are you?”
The comment drew a laugh from both Rip and Kalani as they stopped a couple of feet from her.
“My name is Jon, and this is Kalani,” Rip said. “We’re looking into the disappearance of a young girl, and we wondered if you would mind taking a look at a picture to see if you recognize her?”
A sour look passed over the woman’s face. “Let me guess. Haole girl, blonde hair, big pregnant.”
Without realizing it, Kalani’s eyebrows rose. She glanced over at Rip and nodded. “Yes, how did you know?”
The look of disdain stayed on the woman’s face. “The first year or two she was here, that girl was trouble with a capital T. Men coming and going all the time, drinking, you name it. Once she go hapai though, she straightened up.”
The woman paused, looking at Rip and Kalani. They waited for her to continue.
“I talked with her a time or two, told her she needed to do right by the baby. At first, she seemed angry, resentful. Didn’t want nobody telling her what to do. After a while, though, she started to stop by from time to time. She knew I’d raised three babies myself, wanted to know what it was like, what she should do.”
“So how did you know we were here to ask about her?” Rip asked. “By all accounts, it sounds like she was doing better.”
“She was,” the woman said, her eyes opening wide for emphasis. “She really was. But you know how people in that life can be. They always seem to have that one thing they can’t leave behind.”
“And what was that for her?” Rip asked.
“Not a what, a who,” the woman said, the same sour look as before returning as she said it.
Rip glanced over to Kalani. “Okay, who was it?”
With great effort she shook her head from side to side, the gesture a mixture of frustration and resignation. “I don’t know his name, but I
’d know him if I saw him. Little guy, Filipino, or Hispanic maybe. Had his head shaved, wore gold chains around his neck.”
Rip and Kalani nodded, encouraging her to continue.
“Oh,” the woman said, raising a finger toward them, “he drove a truck. A big truck. Yellow with shiny wheels.”
“Yellow with shiny wheels,” Rip said. “Okay. And what makes you think this guy was bad for her?”
“Don’t think, know,” the woman corrected. “Hear them yelling all the time. Fights at all hours. That kind of thing.”
“Was he the father of the child?” Kalani asked.
“Don’t think so,” the woman said, twisting up the side of her face. “I don’t think she knew exactly who it was, but I’m pretty positive it wasn’t him.”
Overhead the skies began to open up.
“We should let you get out of this rain,” Rip said. “Thank you so much, though, you’ve been very helpful.”
“You’re very welcome,” the woman said, shoving herself off the door of her car. “Once she got herself cleaned up, I really started to like her. I figured when she didn’t show for a few days, that something must be wrong.
“I’m telling you, you find that truck, you’ll find that girl.”
The woman waved a farewell, walking a stiff-legged march toward the building. Rip and Kalani stood motionless until she was out of the rain before turning and heading back to the Jeep, neither one of them saying a word.
Chapter Thirteen
The sound of a pair of forklifts drifted out from the doors of the warehouse.
Kimo Mata waited until the noise receded before stepping from the parking lot onto the concrete ramp at the base of the door. He stood silhouetted against the light and waited for his eyes to adjust.
Stretched out in front of him was the headquarters for the Takamini Pineapple Plantation. A far cry from the international business conducted by Dole just down the road, Takamini was housed in a single warehouse. Avoiding the prohibitive costs of international shipping, it focused on providing fruit for the island communities, specializing in the local resort market.
Motive ; One Last Day ; Going Viral Page 7
