by Toby Neal
Sophie glanced toward Aki Long’s house. The lights were all still on, but the mansion appeared deserted. She walked down the wide veranda and across the lawn, conscious of the surveillance cameras tracking her. The Plexiglas gate mechanism was a simple one, but she could tell she would need to be readmitted to the estate grounds once she left. Sophie checked that she had her phone to call Jake to let her back in, then stepped outside the gate.
If a notification sounded inside the house, she didn’t hear one—probably egress registered in the system, but it would be an unauthorized entrance that would set off alarms. The Plexiglas gate shut with a click behind her, magnetic seals catching and sealing the six-foot clear plastic wall.
Soft grainy yellow beach sand was cooling down with evening and massaged her bare feet, causing twinges in her injured ankle even with the neoprene brace she was still wearing. Sophie looked out at the view of calm blue sea, clouds touched with orange from the setting sun. She considered walking down on the harder sand by the ocean, but found herself turning right. She soon reached the metal panel gate into Long’s property.
Sophie frowned—it was ajar, and opened to her gentle push. She poked her head inside. The house was lit as if for a party, but the windows were wide open, and it was deserted. A large real estate sign blared Gonzalez Realty in the center of the lawn.
Sophie paused to send Jake a text: “Something’s weird about Aki Long’s house next door. Checking it out.” She slid the phone back into her pocket and approached the modern minimalist porch.
“Hello?” Sophie called out cautiously as she ascended the stonework steps. Like Miller’s house, the bottom floor opened up with sliders to maximize the view of ocean and sky, and she could see right into the interior.
The place was cleaned out.
Why was Long leaving so suddenly?
Her pulse picked up as she tested one of the sliders. It slid open with a squeak. Sophie put her head inside. “Hello? Anyone home?”
Her voice echoed around the empty space, but the sound of waves from the surf behind her was amplified, an effect like the sound of sea in a shell.
She wiped her feet on a sisal welcome mat and walked in.
Emptiness and echoes, and light reflecting off of polished teak floors, stucco walls, and marble counters told her that the house had been a showplace in its time. Now it showed the wear and tear of the recently abandoned.
Scuff marks marred the teak floor, and gouges in the walls showed where artwork had been removed. The faucet leaked into a steel sink in the kitchen, the drip, drip, drip monotonous and sad.
Sophie found a realtor’s card on the counter and picked it up. “Mary Gonzalez,” she read aloud. She plugged the number into her phone and hit Send.
As the phone rang, she headed upstairs. Here the evidence of better care showed in the burnished surfaces of the few pieces of furniture left behind.
Against one wall was a gleaming koa armoire. A king size bed frame, also koa, looked skeletal without its mattress. A shadow box filled with carefully mounted bone hooks hung over the bed frame. Under a window, a leather armchair and ottoman waited for someone to occupy them, a stained-glass lamp still on.
Mary Gonzalez had a chipper, upbeat voice. “Gonzalez Realty.”
“Hello. I was passing by on my evening beach walk, and saw that Mr. Long’s beautiful home is for sale.” Sophie broadened the British accent left over from her boarding school days.
“Oh yes. That listing is not actually on the market yet, so you’re in luck.”
Sophie imagined herself as one of the socialites she’d often met at her father’s diplomatic parties, and spoke with the crispness of the wealthy. “I am looking to pick up another Wailea property, so tell me about the place. I’ve liked this house for years, but I never thought Mr. Long would sell.”
“Mr. Long regrets having to let the property go at a discount, due to his rapid departure. It’s only five million!”
Sophie’s brow shot up—that was still high for a house in the shape this one was in. “And why is Mr. Long leaving so expeditiously?”
“Oh, I don’t really know, ma’am, but he told me unexpected family business is taking him back to Hong Kong.”
“Oh really? What a shame.” A feather of apprehension tickled the back of Sophie’s neck. She didn’t want anything to do with anyone who had connections to Hong Kong. Assan had fingers in many pies, and informants in all sorts of places. She did not want her ex finding out where she was. “Well, thank you for your help. That is indeed a steal. Let me discuss it with my husband and get back to you.”
Sophie ended the call on the woman’s queries for her name, and slid the phone into her pocket, her gaze falling upon the bone hook shadow box.
The hooks were likely only replicas, arty decorations for the room. But still, they fascinated her. She approached and stepped inside the bed frame, lifting the box off the wall. Behind it, a square door outlined the presence of a wall safe. Sophie frowned, tracing the white-painted metal facing. It had a modern thumbprint lock as well as a combination dial—higher security than usual for a home safe. What was he hiding in here?
She walked over to the lamplight with the shadow box to see the hooks better.
“Lovely collection, isn’t it?”
Sophie almost dropped the box, whirling to face the voice.
Aki Long stood in the doorway, and he was holding a weapon.
Sophie’s pulse spiked as she registered everything in a flash: the weapon was a Beretta. Long’s golf shirt was wrinkled and sweat-stained, his hair mussed, his face shiny with exertion and suppressed emotion—rage? Triumph? She couldn’t read him.
“I’m allowed to shoot a trespasser on my property,” Long said.
Maybe she could talk her way out of this.
Sophie set the shadow box carefully down on the seat of the chair. “I apologize, Mr. Long. I shouldn’t have come over. I was setting up security next door, and…”
“I know why you came. You were poking around, looking for something to tie me to the Kakela mess.”
Sophie turned to face him, keeping her eyes down, her hands demurely folded. “Oh, no. I’m interested in purchasing your home. I actually just called your realtor. Let me show you…” She slid her hand toward her pocket.
“Hands where I can see them!”
“I’m sorry. Of course. I’m not armed.” Alas, that was true. “You can see that my pocket is flat. I was just going to get Mary Gonzalez’s card out.” She used her fingertips to remove the card and drop it. The card fluttered to the ground like a fall leaf. “I thought your home was lovely. My father is an ambassador and is looking for a retirement place…”
“Bullshit.” Long looked wildly around, as if seeking an answer to his conundrum. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have something on me. What do you have on me?” Spittle flew from his mouth. The man was losing his composure. The redness of his face was stress. “This is an illegal search. Anything you have found here is not admissible.”
He thought she had something on him. There was something in this room connecting him to the Kakela site! There was only one thing in the room it could be.
Sophie spun and smashed her casted hand down onto the glass window of the shadow box, shattering it with a crash.
Long gave a cry and stepped forward. “I’ll shoot!”
Sophie reached in blindly, keeping one hand up toward him and her eyes on Long. Ignoring the cutting shards, she grabbed one of the bone hooks, and held it high. “Hide in plain sight. A great way to conceal these priceless treasures. These are from Kakela, aren’t they? Relics you stole, and some of which you sold to Blackthorne. Mano found out, and tried to blackmail you.”
Long’s gun hand wobbled. “You have no proof.”
“But I will when I take these hooks in for Dr. Taggart to assess.”
Something dark and ugly passed behind Long’s eyes. “Him, Blackthorne, and Magnuson will take the fall for Mano, for the burglaries at
the site.”
Sophie had to provoke him into a mistake. “Let me guess. You and Mano were blackmail partners. We never did find his stash of blackmail material, and that’s because you have it, probably in that safe on the wall. But Mano overreached himself and tried to sell you out. You bashed him on the head and planted Magnuson’s hair on the body.”
Long breathed through his nostrils heavily, his eyes darting. “So what? You’ve got no proof.”
“I do, now that I’ve found this evidence,” Sophie said, coiling all her energy inward, readying to attack.
“Not admissible. I know my rights.” He took another step toward her. “But you’re a loose end.”
Long’s mouth tightened and so did his finger on the trigger—just as Sophie dove for his legs, holding the large shard of glass in her hand. The gun fired with a sound like spitting a watermelon seed, barely missing her as she drove the glass into the man’s calf.
Long howled and brought the gun down toward her.
“Sophie!” Jake yelled from the top of the stairs, and Long swung his arm up and fired at her partner instead. Sophie heard a thump from the doorway as Jake fell backward down the steps.
Sophie wrapped her arms around Long’s legs and used them and the floor for leverage as she flung her good leg up in a kick that caught Long’s gun hand. Long lost his grip on the pistol and it arced through the air, landing on the shiny floor with a clatter. Sophie brought Long down with a grappling move, and the Asian man crashed onto the floor. She whipped the golf shirt off over Long’s head and twisted it behind his back to bind his hands, then ran to fetch the fallen weapon as Long cursed and groaned.
“Jake?” She hurried to her fallen partner. He lay partway down the steps, his back to her. “Jake, are you okay?”
He wasn’t okay.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Jake?” Sophie hurried down the stairs to where her partner had fallen and stepped over his body to look at him from the front. His skin was pale, and a swelling marred his forehead—but he was breathing. A round had penetrated Jake’s shoulder, and blood spread across his black shirt, a shiny wetness that she was relieved she didn’t have to see—the amount soaking the shirt was alarming, and she felt queasy at the sight, at the coppery smell in her nostrils, at the reality of Jake, shot, at her feet.
Sophie fumbled her phone out, dialing 911 with shaking hands, calling for an ambulance at Long’s address, as she ran back up to where Long was still lying stunned, bleeding messily from his leg wound. She retrieved some curtain ties and secured Long’s ankles and hands more firmly, then returned to Jake.
Jake came around and groaned as she touched his cheek. He opened his eyes. “This hurts too much to be heaven.”
“Definitely not heaven. But hopefully help is on its way. I need to get you flat so I can put pressure on your wound.” She looked around wildly. “Where is Ronnie?” She was proud of how steady her voice sounded, though her hands were shaking badly. “He must have heard the gunshot.”
“You can call him on my phone.” Jake indicated his pocket and she dug it out, scrolling to Favorites and calling for Jake’s colleague’s help.
Jake seemed to rally, rolling toward her and reaching up. She got under his good arm, using her leg strength to lift. She hefted him up the four stairs that he had fallen down, and he retched as she lowered him to the landing onto his back. He was ghastly pale, and his eyes looked gray as mist in the waning light—it was too easy for her to imagine a fixed stare, his color gone, his body going slack forever.
Sophie grabbed the chair’s back cushion and applied it to Jake’s shoulder, leaning on the wound to stanch the bleeding.
His eyes flew open and he glared at her. “Son of a bitch, that hurts!”
“Stubborn son of a three-legged goat, always jumping in without looking! You are going to get killed one day, and it will break my heart,” she cursed right back, in Thai.
“You said that like you meant it,” Jake whispered. “Makes me wish I understood whatever it was. But mine are better.” He proceeded to flood her with inventive cursing—this time in Spanish.
Sophie smiled down at him. “Spanish is a lovely romance language and you are really mutilating it with your awful accent and common gutter slang. I prefer, for extreme cursing, to use Mandarin.” Sophie let loose a stream of her favorite insults, and was rewarded by a faint smile as her partner shut his eyes.
He groped for her hand with his good one. She held it as she leaned on the pillow, using voice dial to call Lei and tell her what had happened just as Ronnie arrived, wide-eyed at the sight of unstoppable Jake felled, and Long trussed up and moaning.
It was a long fifteen minutes until the EMTs arrived, having no trouble coming into the compound with Long’s gates wide open. Lei and Pono arrived shortly afterward, and Sophie left them and Ronnie to deal with Long as she followed the gurney carrying Jake across Long’s yard, still holding his hand.
At the ambulance, one of the EMTs gestured to her splint. “Want us to clean that up for you?”
Sophie was dripping blood from a laceration from the glass, and had not even realized it.
She kept her eyes on Jake’s as the EMT bandaged her wound while the other one hooked up IVs and monitoring equipment and prepared to put Jake into the ambulance.
“You big ox,” she whispered in Thai. “Don’t you die on me.” She squeezed his hand. She felt like doing more to show him she cared, but couldn’t think of anything that would be appropriate. “We have to stop doing this.”
Jake nodded. “Yeah. It’s getting ridiculous. I’m telling Bix we need combat pay.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can get away,” she promised, and he finally let go of her hand when they pushed the gurney into the ambulance.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
After taking Sophie’s official statement of events on video, Lei asked the team to sit through a recap of the case on one of the whiteboards in Kahului Station’s utilitarian conference room. Sophie held a cup of hot cocoa with both hands, letting the warmth soak in and calm her shaking hands, the sugar stabilizing her adrenaline crash, the sweet scent erasing the memory of the smell of Jake’s blood in her nostrils.
“So, as you know, Long lawyered up as soon as he was treated for his stab wound,” Lei said. “He claims he surprised Sophie stealing his bone hook collection and that he was within his rights to fire upon her and Jake, an additional intruder.”
“He will have trouble proving that,” Captain Omura said. The Japanese woman brushed at her immaculate uniform and pushed an errant strand of smooth black hair behind her ear.
“True, but his lawyer is backing him up, so that’s the battle we’ll be fighting. But we got a search warrant for the safe, and a safecracker is on his way. I can’t wait to get my hands on all the dirt hidden in there,” Lei said, the dimple in her cheek flashing in anticipation.
“He virtually admitted to the murder of Mano, as I told you,” Sophie said. “I speculated that he was Mano’s partner, and that he killed Mano for trying to extort from him, and his answer was to tell me I had no proof.”
“If the blackmail materials are in the safe, we’ll have a solid case. We will have a trickier time proving that he was near the body with no physical evidence but Magnuson’s hair, but we can build a pretty convincing picture with the circumstantial evidence,” Hiromo, the District Attorney, said from his side of the table. “Though of course, I will be counting on your testimony, Ms. Ang.”
“Of course. Did you let Dr. Taggart go?” Sophie asked Lei.
“We did. His company declined to press charges on him for having the artifacts in his possession. They said they believed his statement that he had merely neglected to log them in. He’s working at his lab with a partner to authenticate Long’s bone hook collection. We expect those to be human bone hooks, and hopefully the archaeology team will find a way to tie them to the Kakela site,” Lei said. “So. Let me take us through the case and see if we have any loose end
s. Kakela was being burgled by someone looking rather haphazardly for bone hooks. Security Solutions is hired to prevent the incursions. Seth Mano’s body turns up in one of the ‘test unit’ holes on the site, head bashed in. Only physical evidence is Pomai Magnuson’s hair on his body.” She looked around. “Anyone need a malasada break besides me?”
“Texeira, we’ve gone to heart-healthy snacks here at Kahului Station, as you well know,” Captain Omura said. “I can have someone bring in some celery sticks and hummus, if you like.”
“No, thank you, sir.” Lei shuddered. “Anyway, Sophie found a list of blackmail victims on Mano’s computer. One of the names on it was Brock Blackthorne, who had recently put in a bid on the Kakela site. We went out to his estate to question him in the matter, and he took Sophie hostage. He had been behind the burglaries, and Seth Mano had sold him the GPR report, which helped him target the artifacts he was after, including the bones of the Hawaiian queen. We were able to extract Sophie, but Blackthorne committed suicide in the process.”
Sophie felt a chill pass over her skin at the memory of Blackthorne’s blood pumping over the obsidian knife in her hand.
“The case appeared closed, though we weren’t sure how Blackthorne had killed Mano. Then Sophie asked me to check Pomai Magnuson’s hair against the one found on the body. She wasn’t in the system, but we were able to obtain a sample and verify that it was her hair on the body. When we brought her in, she fingered Brett Taggart, who then fled his apartment in an attempt not to be caught in possession of artifacts that he had not logged in with his company, making him look like a good candidate for the murder.” Lei paused and took a swig of her water bottle. “Am I right so far?”
Nods.
“Anyone got anything to add?”
“I never thought Taggart was the killer,” Sophie said.
