Blood Orchids

by Toby Neal

  Evening cast long shadows when she walked up onto Tom Watanabe’s porch. She’d taken a brief moment at home to strip off her filthy uniform, splash her face and wind her hair up and pin it with a chopstick, throw on a tank top and jeans. She still felt far from date-worthy—good thing she was just trying to get information out of him. Ambivalence rose up yet again but it was too late; she’d already reached his house and tapped on the door.

  He opened it, an oven mitt on his hand.

  “Hey,” she said, pointing at the mitt. “I like a man in proper gear.” He laughed, embarrassed, whipping it off.

  “Come in,” he said. “I was just giving up on you.”

  “Yeah, sorry I’m late. We had a lot going on today with work.”

  “It’s okay. The shoyu chicken was just getting a little dry and I pulled it out of the oven.” She followed him through the house. Gleaming dark wood floors enhanced spare décor: a black leather couch, low enameled coffee table, and a flat-screen TV mounted above an obsidian Buddha. A framed obi, the wide traditional belt used to close kimono, was centered over the couch.

  She pointed at it. “Your grandmother’s?”

  “Yes. It’s over a hundred years old.”

  Lei went over, folding her hands behind her back, leaning close. The wide fabric belt was intricately worked silk, tiny coiling dragons curling around the edge.

  “Beautiful,” she said. “It must be nice to have this history.”

  “Not always.” Tom led her into the remodeled kitchen, all chrome and grey granite. “Comes with a lot of expectations.” He opened the fridge and took out a bottle of white wine. “Something to drink?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why don’t we check out the orchids while the food cools down?” He handed her a glass of the chilled wine.

  “Okay.” She followed him out the back door. The greenhouse was a sturdy little glass and wood structure, neatly painted and maintained as everything was. They stepped inside and Lei caught her breath in wonder.

  Sprays of vibrant dendrobium tangled with the fragile moth shapes of phalaenopsis. Huge, lacey cattleyas thrust showy blossoms forward, spilling delicate fragrance. She leaned close to one, a glowing fuschia.

  “I’ve never been able to get these to bloom,” she said, touching the ruffled cup with a finger.

  “The secret,” he said, holding a mister aloft, “is liquid fertilizer sprayed on once a week and the right climate conditions. Now I’ve told you, I might have to kill you.”

  “You threatening a police officer?” She cocked her head, narrowing her eyes.

  “I was just trying to be funny.” He laughed, that nervous chuckle.

  “Whatever,” she said, reaching for the door handle. The charm of the greenhouse was lost.

  “Wait!” He went down the aisle and plucked an orchid plant off the shelf. “This is a new variety. It reminded me of you.”

  She took it. The phalaenopsis’s stem arched up from a base of dark leaves, three perfect butterfly blossoms perched on it. They were creamy white with chocolate edges, a spatter of fawn freckles across the petals. She couldn’t help smiling.

  “This is sweet. Thanks.”

  He rubbed his hands on his jeans.

  “Let’s go have some dinner.”

  They sat in the bamboo-floored dining area at a traditional, sunken Japanese table and ate the shoyu chicken, rice, and fresh green beans he’d kept crisp and flavorful.

  “Mm. I always overcook green beans,” Lei said.

  “Just drop them in boiling water for two or three minutes, strain them out,” he said. “Now tell me about yourself.”

  “Not much to tell. I was born on Oahu and ended up here. I love what I do, and I’m working on making detective.” Lei belatedly remembered she wanted to pump him for information. “So what’s involved with your job?”

  “Nothing as interesting as yours. I’m in charge of monitoring the diversion facilities, making sure our water pressure’s good. We have some of the heaviest rainfall in the Islands, and we send a lot of our water to Kona side because it’s so dry. All those ditches require a lot of monitoring.” He took another bite. “Keeps me busy.”

  It would be easy for him to know about a remote but accessible area like the stream where Kelly and Haunani were drowned. Lei took another bite, reminding herself her stalker wasn’t connected with the murders, though the black truck seemed to cross into both cases.

  “You’re quiet.”

  “Just tired.” She put her chopsticks down abruptly. “Why’d you ask me out?”

  He shrugged, did that awkward laugh. “You’re single and cute. You live down the street. I like you. What else should I say?”

  “Nothing. I’m sorry. I’ve just gotten used to interrogating people, being suspicious.”

  She felt panicky suddenly, claustrophobic. She swiveled to the side, stood up as gracefully as she could in the sunken bench, climbed out. “Listen, this has been nice but I need to go. Thanks for dinner.”

  “Wow, okay.” He tossed down his napkin and followed her through the house. “Let’s get together again sometime.”

  “Sure,” Lei said. “Thanks again.”

  She fled out the front door, her heart thundering. Halfway down the block, with a pang of regret Lei realized she’d left the spotted orchid behind. She was such a freak, he was probably never going to speak to her again let alone give her that orchid.

  Keiki flung herself against the fence in an ecstasy of doggy welcome. Lei checked the mail, barely able to keep from running into the house, her skin clammy and heart pounding. Still nothing from the stalker—nothing since she’d chased the truck days ago. Thank God. Maybe it was over.

  It felt wonderful to deactivate the alarm, let the dog in, reset it, and take a shower—knowing she was safe at last.

  She tried to think about why she’d freaked out at Tom’s but her mind wouldn’t go there. She just didn’t know—but it felt like a classic panic attack. She thought over the whole evening and he hadn’t said or done anything really suspicious. He just seemed like a lonely, awkward guy that liked to grow orchids and keep a very clean house and yard. That in itself was strange, for a guy . . .

  She let herself smile at that as hot water pounded down on her shoulders, loosening the knots of tension that remained from the day. Maybe the panic attack wasn’t about Tom at all. Mary’s still face appeared in her mind, bringing grief like a wave of nausea.

  The shower water had cooled, and she got out, wrapping in a big white towel. The doorbell rang just as she’d climbed into her PJs and pulled her old cotton kimono over them. She went to the door and put her eye to it, then opened it for Stevens. He held out the fawn-spotted orchid to her.

  “This was sitting on your mat. Something nice from the stalker?”

  “No.” Lei took the delicate plant, let the way into the house. “Tom Watanabe gave it to me.” She felt bad again for running out on him, but there was still something off about the guy.

  “How was dinner with Watanabe?”

  “Good food, lousy conversation. How was picking up Reynolds?”

  “Guy’s pissed as hell, says he’s being framed. Almost got to Tase him.” Stevens broke into a grin. “It would have been great but he settled right down when I got my weapon out, alas. He clammed up tight, though, so the interview was a waste of time.”

  “Speaking of waste of time—finishing the storage unit qualified.”

  “Sorry about that. I picked it because I thought it a more likely hiding place.”

  “Yeah, I figured. You hungry?”

  “I know better than to expect anything when I come over, but some water to replace the liquids I lost today would be nice.”

  Lei got a bottle out of the fridge and handed it to him. She was so tired it was hard to think clearly. An awkward silence descended.

  “I told you, you didn’t need to come over. This really has to stop.” Lei pushed her damp hair back with both hands, blew out a breath.

&
nbsp; “What do you mean?”

  “You spending the night. The stalker’s stopped bothering me ever since the truck chase. It’s over, and he never did anything dangerous in the first place. I feel so stupid about putting you and Pono out. It’s really time for it to end.”

  “You said not to make it your fault.” Stevens sighed, rubbed his bottle back and forth across his flat stomach. “It’s not your fault. The stalker might not have attacked, but he could be a real threat.”

  “It’s just . . . this whole thing. It’s hard because it reminds me how unsafe I am. You know why I have all these locks and the alarm?”

  “I wondered.”

  “Because I was molested when I was a kid. It fucked me up.” She’d decided to tell him, but it wasn’t making her feel better. Instead, her stomach clenched.

  “Hell isn’t good enough for scum who do things to kids. I’m sorry that happened to you. I wondered if something did, all your security measures.”

  “My mom had a drug problem. My dad got her hooked before he went to prison for dealing. Her boyfriend was the one who worked me over, and when he broke up with her she overdosed. I was nine.”

  A long pause as he digested this, his eyes blue shadows. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Then he smiled a lopsided smile that twisted her heart.

  “Cheers.” He held his plastic bottle out, she clinked her water glass against it. “Your dead-ass mom tops my drunk-ass mom.”

  They drank, the ironic toast of children of substance abusers. He went on.

  “I told you I had a friend I let down before by not taking a situation like this seriously, and I won’t let it happen again.”

  “Who was she?”

  “My best friend growing up. She had a nasty boyfriend in college. He stalked her after they broke up and she kept telling me about it. I thought she was exaggerating, told her she was making drama. He killed her. That’s when I changed my major to Criminal Justice and joined the force.”

  “I appreciate you telling me that, but I’m not that friend. In fact, I don’t want to just be your friend,” she said. She held his gaze. Dark blue eyes, intense and wary, met hers. She leaned over to kiss him, a tentative brush of the lips.

  “Damn,” he said, reaching over to pull her into his arms. “I don’t want to be your friend either.” He kissed her, pent-up hunger making their teeth click. Lei pulled away eventually, covering her mouth with her hand.

  “Ouch. Smooth move.”

  “You’re right about one thing.” He stood up. “This can’t go on.”

  “Finally.” Lei picked up the empty water bottle and glass, took them to the sink. “Let’s wrap up this investigation and go on a date like two sane adults.”

  “Are you asking me out?”

  “Or we could just sleep together,” she said. He stood speechless, and then reached for her again. She dodged, laughing, leading him to the door. This flirting thing was getting easier. Maybe she’d just needed some practice. She handed him his duffel, discarded by the entrance.

  “See you at the station, Detective Stevens.”

  “Okay, but call me if you need anything. I mean anything.” He wiggled his brows and she laughed. “Sleep well. Keep your phone on.”

  She let him out, locked the door, armed the alarm. I doubt either of us will sleep well, she thought. She leaned against the door, closing her eyes, savoring the faint bruising of her lips, the razor burn of his face still tingling her skin. She sighed and signaled Keiki for their evening lockup routine.

  * * *

  Across the street he lowered the miniature binoculars he’d been using to observe the house. Her light was finally out. She was in bed. He pictured her there, her lean athletic body curved in sleep, her nipples punctuating the thin fabric of the undershirt she wore to bed.

  Sleeping. Waiting for him, for just the right moment. Soon.

  Chapter 33

  Lei walked up the old fashioned church aisle in her dress blues with her offering, an orchid plant in a turtle-shaped ceramic pot. She set it at the base of a three-foot picture of Mary’s smiling face set on an easel, with a basket of round black pebbles from Punalu`u Beach beside it. Lei picked one up and put it in her pocket.

  She turned and made her way to one of the wooden pews, sliding in to sit beside Pono and his little family. Pono reached out to give her a side hug and Maile, the toddler, dimpled around the finger that plugged her mouth. Statuesque Tiare had her hands full with baby Ikaika, but reached over to pat Lei’s shoulder.

  Lei took the surroundings in, tilting her head to see the arched ribs of the graceful nave, stained glass windows dropping coins of colored light across the polished floor. Massed arrangements of gardenia, Mary’s favorite flower, filled in the air with scent. The church was standing room only for the memorial, filled with police, friends and family. Mary had been well loved, and outrage over her death felt palpable in the hushed tension of voices.

  Lei sat, huddled inside crisp dark uniform armor, with a sense as if the event were a movie in which she had little part. An ukulele and guitar band had already begun playing ‘Amazing Grace’ when Michael Stevens slipped into the pew beside her. He leaned over next to her ear and whispered, “You okay?”

  His warm breath tickling the hair beside her ear was the first thing she’d felt in her own body all morning. She nodded, holding the song sheet, her voice reedy and choked. Jeremy Ito slipped into the pew beside Stevens. He’d brought a digital camera.

  “Got to get shots of all the guests. He may be here, watching.”

  Stevens nodded, and Jeremy took up an unobtrusive post behind a pillar on the side. Lei felt the eye of his lens on her and hated the necessity that put him there, watching for a killer.

  She didn’t cry through the poems, and speeches, and even the releasing of a dozen white doves outside the church, a heartrending touch Mary’s boyfriend Roland performed in honor of the moment he’d planned for their wedding. She was able to stay in that bubble of disconnect all the way home, but when it was time to change out of her dress blues and go to work, she found herself getting out the emergency vodka bottle and calling in sick.

  She threw back shots standing at the sink until her vision went blurry, then staggered to bed and fell into a black well.

  Lei’s senses slowly booted up, one at a time. She opened her eyes. She was looking up at the familiar net canopy of her bed at home. Her head throbbed.

  Thank God for medication, she thought, lifting herself up enough to throw some extra-strength Advil into her mouth from the side drawer and swish them down with bottled water she’d left out. Keiki lifted her head and watched Lei as she subsided with a groan.

  The door creaked open.

  “Hey, you’re up,” Pono said.

  “Not sure about ‘up.’ I’m still deciding if I’m alive.”

  “Here, Keiki,” Pono called, and the big dog leapt off the bed. “Lieutenant told me to come look in on you when you called in. You forgot to lock your house or turn on the alarm. You look like shit, by the way.”

  “Sssshhhhhhh,” Lei whispered. “I’m waiting for the Advil to work so I can go back to sleep.”

  “Oh no. It’s almost 11 a.m., and I made the call last night. She’s going to be here in only a couple hours.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Your Aunty Rosario.”

  “Oh my God!” Lei sat up too fast and fell back, her head spinning.

  “I’ll get you some coffee.”

  Lei sat up slowly and carefully this time, swinging her legs off the bed. She tottered to the bathroom. One of her old notes was still dangling from the corner of the mirror. She pulled it off and dropped it into the rubbish and brushed her teeth carefully.

  “Now what’s this about Aunty Rosario?” she asked, reaching for the steaming mug of coffee Pono held out to her in the kitchen.

  “I found your phone last night and called her,” Pono said, sitting down. “I told her you been being stalked, your friend was murdered, an
d you needed some TLC.”

  “I didn’t want her to know,” Lei said, frowning. “She has a lot on her plate and she’ll be upset.”

  “She’s your family. She get one right to know you need her. She told me she was getting someone to cover the restaurant and catching the next plane out.”

  Lei sat back, looked into the milky coffee. Weaker than I usually make it, she thought grumpily. She took another sip.

  “Great,” she muttered. She felt vulnerable, thin in her own skin, brittle somehow. Keiki put her big square head on her leg and it was the only thing that felt good in the world.

  Lei pulled the truck up to the sidewalk outside of the baggage claim. Her aunt waited, a sturdy brown woman in a muumuu with a thick curly braid hanging past her waist. She held a little suitcase, the kind of “overnight bag” they made out of vinyl and cardboard back in the 50s. A big white cooler on wheels also sat on the sidewalk. Aunty dropped the suitcase with a cry at the sight of Lei.

  Lei hurried around the front of the big truck and threw her arms around her aunt. She buried her face in Rosario’s neck, inhaling the smell of talcum powder and pikake perfume that had always meant safety and love.

  “Aunty,” she whispered.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” Aunty Rosario stroked the tangled curls back as she searched Lei’s face.

  “We’re making a scene, Aunty. Let’s go already.” Lei slung the little bag into the back passenger seat and hefted the cooler into the bed of the pickup. Keiki wriggled with joy at the sight of the other woman. Aunty fended off slobbery kisses as Lei started up the truck.

  “When you goin’ teach this dog some manners?” Aunty scolded as Keiki nudged her with her big square head, her tongue lolling in a happy grin.

  “She’s actually very well-trained,” Lei said, snapping her fingers. Keiki withdrew her head from between the seats and settled into the backseat with a sigh.

  “So tell me what the hell has been going on,” Aunty said, pinning Lei with her fierce black eyes. “Why I gotta hear from a stranger my baby girl being stalked?”