Seymour laughed. “Maybe you need a break from cutting up bodies.”
“Tell me about it.” Patricia made a face.
“Before you head for the hills, give us the rundown on Brennan’s cause of death, etc.”
“It would be my pleasure, Detective.” Patricia put on her glasses. “The victim died as the result of shock from his wounds after being shot multiple times—four to be exact—at close range as indicated by powder burns. The manner of death is homicide and mechanism, a small caliber firearm. I was able to retrieve bullets and bullet fragments from the deceased.
“Two of the bullets went through the victim’s briefcase, which Dr. Brennan apparently hoped might deflect them. Unfortunately that didn’t work. These bullets punctured vital organs. A third bullet lodged in his left femur, shattering it. The last bullet struck the right side of the decedent’s face, causing massive damage externally and to his brain.
“In short, the victim’s brutal death was reminiscent of the way Elizabeth Racine and Larry Nagasaka met their end,” Patricia concluded.
“So you’re saying we’re looking at the same shooter?” Leila faced her.
“Based on the entry and exit wounds, yes, I’d have to say that’s a strong likelihood.”
Leila expected forensic ballistics to confirm this after examining the bullets. It still didn’t put them any closer to the killer’s identity.
“Is there anything else you can tell us about the unsub?” Seymour asked.
Patricia removed her glasses. “Well, only that he or she wants to get close enough to the victims to inflict maximum damage. Always the scariest kind of killer, since that means the person is willing to take serious risks for the rewards.”
Leila swallowed at the notion while wondering who else might be one step closer to execution without being the wiser.
* * *
“Hey, Ferguson, you gotta minute?”
Ferguson was just about to get out of there early when Detective Jonny Chung from the vice squad blocked his path.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“When you look at me what do you see?” Chung stepped back.
Ferguson studied him. He was Chinese-American with short black hair, probably five-nine, and reasonably fit. Was that what he wanted to hear?
“I see someone who wouldn’t have a place on my dance card.”
Chung laughed. “Ditto. Do I look like a john?”
Ferguson’s pulse skipped a beat as if his secret had been discovered. But how? He’d been careful.
“No more than I do,” he said tentatively.
Chung frowned and muttered an expletive. “Guess I need to work on my appearance more.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Got a sting going down tomorrow. We’re hoping to nab as many hookers as possible. Not that it’s as bad here as Honolulu. We just want to keep it that way.”
“Makes sense.” Ferguson took a breath. “Where’s this sting taking place?”
Chung tilted his head. “You looking to find out where the action is or what?”
Ferguson chuckled. “The only action for me is with my wife. Just wondered where the problem area is for streetwalkers since I never see any.”
“You wouldn’t, unless they were dead. Most only come out when we’re not looking. We’re targeting Wailuku and Lahaina this round.”
Ferguson looked nonchalant. “Good luck.”
“I’m not the one who’ll need it.”
“I meant playing your part.”
“Oh yeah, well practice makes perfect, as they say.”
Ferguson watched him walk away, relieved they weren’t onto him. But they could be arresting Gina for solicitation. And what if she should run into him as a police detective and start talking to save her own neck? It could ruin his career. Not to mention his marriage.
He needed to warn Gina for both their sakes.
* * *
“I want you to do something for me.” Gina listened as Trent whispered in her ear while in bed. She assumed he wanted to try a new sexual position. She was game so long as it didn’t hurt.
“What?”
“Stay off the streets tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“The vice squad is doing a sting and anyone caught soliciting will be arrested.”
Gina was no stranger to arrest. It was no big deal. They usually let her out after a day. But obviously it meant something to Trent. Did he really care that much about her?
She looked at him. “You a cop or something?”
“Something.” He kissed between her breasts. “Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Okay, whatever you say.” Gina didn’t care if he was a cop. She’d already figured that out. Everyone had their secrets, including her.
The most important thing was that he treated her a hell of a lot better than most, if not all, johns and his frequent business put food on the table. It would hurt when Trent decided to go back to his wife for sex. Many men eventually did when their guilt consumed them.
Until then, Gina intended to milk this for all it was worth. Something told her he intended to do the same.
* * *
Seymour stood in Paul Ortega’s Great Room while his boss and friend made them drinks.
“So Mele really did it, huh?” Ortega handed him a glass of scotch.
“Yeah. It’s official now.” Seymour thought about the moment he received the divorce papers. “On my way to being a free man, whether I like it or not.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“Oh yeah? What did you hear?” Seymour suspected what was coming next.
“That things are heating up between you and Kahana.”
Seymour tasted the drink, seeing no reason to deny it. “We’ve been spending some time together. She seems to accept me, flaws and all. That’s a comforting thing at this time in my life.”
Ortega nodded. “When my ex decided to call it quits, I looked for anyone who could make me feel like a man again. After a while I realized I was the only one who could do that.”
“Not sure that’s what it’s all about with Leila.”
“What you do in your personal life is none of my business,” Ortega said. “You’re good cop and so is Kahana. I just don’t want to see either of you mess that up.”
Seymour was thoughtful. “It probably won’t last very long. We’re at different stages of our lives, but the job still comes first.” Or so it did with him, which may have been part of the problem in his failed marriage.
Ortega put a hand on his shoulder. “Glad to hear that.”
Seymour put down more scotch.
TWENTY-ONE
The next morning, Leila went to get the ballistics report. “So what’s it say?” she asked, standing between Seymour and Gil Delfino, the forensic examiner.
Delfino handed her the report. “Your latest murder victim was shot with the same .25 caliber weapon as the other victims.”
“You’re sure about that?” Seymour favored him.
“Oh yeah. The bullets retrieved from Douglas Brennan and one lodged in the briefcase had six lands and grooves with right hand twist marks—a perfect match for the ones recovered from the Racine and Nagasaka murders. Same is true for the shell casings. Their ejection and firing pin marks are identical to the others. You’ve clearly got yourself a single shooter here.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Leila rolled her eyes. “It’s been obvious since Brennan’s murder that one person has chosen doctors to target for reasons we’re still trying to uncover.”
“I suggest you do it fast. Otherwise you just may have me working overtime. Not that I can’t use the extra money.”
“We’ll do our best to not let your bank account overflow, Delfino,” Seymour said. “I don’t suppose you were able to get any prints from the bullets?”
“Sorry.” Delfino shook his head. “But don’t give up. I still may be able to help you out there. I’m working on it.”
“Maybe
you could work a little harder. There’s a good chance our unsub is in the system. Trouble is, we don’t have what we need to track him or her down.”
“You’ll help yourself by locating the murder weapon, which the shooter is apparently keeping for now. That would be even better than fingerprints, since we could match the bullets to the gun they came from.”
Leila narrowed her eyes. “Tell us something we don’t know.”
“Actually I can do that.” Delfino drew a breath. “CSI also recovered some DNA from hair strands. Not saying they belong to the killer. But they were pulled from the bushes in front of Brennan’s house and didn’t come from him.”
“I’m guessing the hair doesn’t belong to the gardener,” Seymour said.
“That’s for you to figure out.”
Leila saw this as another potentially important piece of the puzzle. But it still meant little till they could corner their killer and seal the case by corroborating the evidence.
* * *
At three p.m., Gabe sat at the bar sipping a margarita and wondering how his personal life had gotten so screwed up. It hadn’t affected his profession, per se, but his patients had noticed a change in his demeanor. He would have to work on that. It was time he faced up to the fact there was no going back.
Linda wasn’t worth the effort.
It was time he found someone who was.
“Hi.”
Gabe turned to lay eyes on a gorgeous blonde. “Hi.”
“You look like you could use some company.”
“Does it show that much?”
“Afraid so.” She smiled softly. “Buy a lady a drink?”
He wasn’t used to women hitting on him outside the office. Is that what she was doing?
It made him feel good.
“Sure. Why not?”
She ordered a strawberry cosmopolitan. “I’m Brenda.”
“Gabe.”
“Nice to meet you.”
She held her hand out and he shook it, enjoying the feel of her soft fingers. He wondered what reason she had for being there alone.
“You tell me your story and I’ll tell you mine.” Brenda eyed him as though reading his mind.
Gabe twisted his lips. “Not that much to tell, really.”
“In that case, it should definitely hold my attention.”
He couldn’t help but smile, liking her already. “I just broke up with my girlfriend after two years together. And she’s already seeing someone else. It sucks.”
“Have you considered that maybe she did you a favor?”
“How? By telling me she didn’t give a damn about our history?”
“By not sticking with something that obviously wasn’t working. It would’ve only been more painful later.”
“I suppose.” Gabe tasted his drink as hers came. “What about you?”
Brenda frowned. “I think my husband’s having an affair.”
The fact she was married disappointed Gabe. He recovered quickly, realizing that most of the good ones were.
“What makes you think so?”
“He hasn’t touched me in weeks. Even before then it was like he wasn’t there.”
“Ouch.” Gabe wondered if her husband was insane. Or blind. “Have you confronted him?”
“Yes, sort of. Of course, he denied it.”
“Maybe he’s telling the truth.”
“At this point I don’t think I care anymore. I just want to feel like a healthy, sexual woman again.”
“I think I understand where you’re coming from.”
Brenda gazed at him. “Maybe we can help each other out.”
“What did you have in mind?” Gabe wanted to be sure they truly were on the same wavelength.
“Take me to your place,” she said. “Then take me.”
He met the hunger in her eyes, matching his own, and found himself unable to turn down the invitation.
“Let’s go.”
* * *
Brenda Ferguson hadn’t planned to seduce anyone when she walked into that bar. But feeling as low as she was and meeting a good looking guy who seemed equally in need of a quick, if not temporary, fix was too much to resist.
She followed him down Piilani Highway to a condo in Makena. For an instant Brenda had second thoughts about doing this. That disappeared with the reality her husband was no longer attracted to her sexually. But Gabe was.
And that was good enough for her.
They wasted little time talking, barely making it to the bedroom before each stripped naked and attacked one another with a sense of urgency.
Brenda came instantly. And again when Gabe climaxed inside her.
Afterwards she had to catch her breath. “You were great.”
Gabe nibbled on her chin. “So were you.”
She felt a tingle and found herself wishing it had come as the result of her husband’s romantic affections.
As it was, she had to take a man’s desire when it came.
She kissed his nose. “Care to go another round?”
His actions spoke for him.
When they were done, Brenda dressed quickly. She wasn’t sure how Gabe would take the news that she was married to a cop.
Who said he had to know? She didn’t want to scare him off. Not when Gabe had given her a whole new reason to want to spend time with someone.
* * *
Ferguson arrived home, feeling exhausted after another day of investigating the murders of Brennan, Racine, and Nagasaka. Everyone was feeling the stress of not having anyone in custody at the moment. Worse would be to arrest the wrong person, only to have the real unsub kill again.
He looked for Brenda, but didn’t see her in the home office where she ran a web design business, or the kitchen.
Where the hell was she?
He went upstairs and saw her standing in the bathroom. She was wearing a robe, clearly having just taken a shower.
“Hey,” he said.
She turned around. “Hi.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing much. Did my workout. You hungry?”
“No, I grabbed a bite earlier with some people at work. I think I’m just going to go to bed.”
He expected her to want to join him, but hoped she wouldn’t. Gina was all he could handle for one night.
Brenda smiled. “Fine. I’m going to go work in my office for a little bit. I’ll be up soon.”
She gave him a kiss on the cheek and he inhaled her perfume. Was it new?
Ferguson felt a strange sense of disappointment that Brenda wasn’t on his back about giving her more attention in the bedroom. Maybe he’d better leave well enough alone.
TWENTY-TWO
Douglas Brennan’s body was released to his next of kin, a sister, who flew in from Oregon. The funeral was held on a hot and humid Saturday afternoon in Maui. Leila attended along with Seymour and other members of the police force, less to pay their respects than to see who showed up from the Medical Association of Maui.
In Leila’s experience, some killers got a thrill out of showing their face while hidden behind a façade of remorse. Was that the case here?
She looked amongst the mourners, recognizing many who were still suspects in the death of Brennan and/or Elizabeth Racine and Larry Nagasaka. Kenneth Racine stood next to Adrianne Pompeo, while Courtney Brennan looked out of place with her companion, Henri.
Connie Nagasaka seemed to be taking Brennan’s death hard, as though more than just an acquaintance. Or was it a reflection of losing her husband so recently?
Leila honed in on a familiar face that took her a moment to recognize. It was the man who had scared off a mugger and provided her a description to sketch.
Gabe Devane, if memory served her correctly. What was he doing here? Did he know the victim?
“What is it?” Seymour asked over her shoulder.
“Just curious. That man behind Connie Nagasaka—I know him.”
“Know him how?”
She told him. “S
trange, huh?”
“Not necessarily. Maui isn’t exactly New York City. Doesn’t take much to connect one person to another.”
“True. Still I’m not too big on coincidences. Not where it concerns a serial killer at large.”
“Was Devane checked out?” Seymour brushed against her.
Leila reacted. “We ran a criminal background check on him as we would anyone under similar circumstances. He was clean. There was no reason at the time to suspect he could have anything to do with this case.”
“Maybe he doesn’t.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” she said.
“If you need a hand, just wave.”
An erotic thought entered her head. “I might need a hand later—but not here.”
He grinned and Leila walked away on that note for an unanticipated reunion with Gabe Devane.
* * *
Gabe had seen enough. After the urn containing Douglas Brennan’s cremated remains was lowered into the ground, he decided it was time to exit. It was doubtful anyone would miss him, considering he wasn’t expected to be there in the first place. He had just made it past the other mourners when someone called his name from behind.
He turned and immediately recognized the woman. “Detective Kahana!”
“Hello, Gabe.” Leila gave him an unsmiling look. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
Gabe considered the nature of Brennan’s death and the investigation into it, along with two other doctors killed recently.
“Douglas and I were friends.”
“Small world, huh?”
“I suppose so.”
“Since you knew the victim, I’d like to ask you a few questions. Do you mind?”
He wondered what would happen if he were to refuse. Would she think him guilty of a crime?
“Not at all.”
Leila raised her head. “Why don’t we step over there?”
Gabe glanced at a patch of grass where someone else was buried. He nodded and let her lead the way till they were again face to face.
“I understand you got your mugger,” he said.
She smiled slightly. “Yes, thanks to your help.”
“I’d hope someone would do the same were my own grandmother being attacked by a thug.”
Murder in Maui Page 12
