Darby Stansfield Thriller Series (Books 1-3 & Bonus Novella)

by Ty Hutchinson

  Izzy gave me the thumbs up. Okay, so that was something else we could implement. I had already planned on buying a few more of the heavy-duty flashlights and stashing them in different parts of the house. They were a great source of light and a formidable weapon. We continued to brainstorm on what else we could do to protect ourselves and also catch whomever it was that kept coming around.

  “How about hiring a private detective?” Izzy suggested.

  I looked at her a bit strangely. “In my head, they’re the ones you hire to tail people or research missing people.”

  “No, really, they do all sorts of things. Of course, we could always call my father for help,” she said with a smirk. As serious as this was, neither of us wanted that. We could handle this ourselves. The more we talked about it, the more we both thought hiring a PI was a great idea. At least we would have a third brain helping us figure this out.

  Chapter 42

  Izzy and I combed the Internet for private detectives and found there were a few in Honolulu. As soon as 9:00 a.m. rolled around, we called and made appointments to meet with a bunch of them that day.

  The drive into town was a quiet one. I guess we both preferred to spend our time reflecting on what had happened. The first investigator we were meeting was located in Honolulu’s Chinatown. We parked in a lot and walked to the address. It was an old two-story building with a narrow entrance. As we climbed a set of musky stairs, we had to step over a sleeping body. At the end of the dark hall was a door with a frosted glass front. Stenciled across it in gold lettering was:

  212

  Rudi Balagot

  Private Investigator

  All Hours

  “I feel like we’re on the set of some 1940s detective movie.”

  “Yeah, kind of creepy.”

  I knocked on the door. A few seconds later, a shadow approached and opened it. Standing in front of us was a short man, no taller than five feet, six inches. He was dark skinned with harsh facial lines and salt-and-pepper hair.

  “Darby Stansfield, yeah?”

  “I’m Darby. This is Izzy.”

  He pulled the door open wider. “Come inside. Have a seat. Can I get you coffee?”

  The investigator had a weird accent, like nothing I’d heard before.

  He shook both of our hands before walking back around to his chair and sitting down. “I’m Rudi Balagot,” he said, with a wide smile.

  His office seemed smaller than it probably was. All along the walls were overstuffed black filing cabinets. Sitting on top of them were more stacks of papers, takeout boxes, a Buddha statue, even a bowl filled with fake fruit. A large oak desk occupied most of the space. There was a leather executive chair to match. His desk was equally covered with papers, folders, and accordion files. A little brass monkey held the PI’s business cards in his hands, with the bottom of the cards resting on a large monkey penis.

  “Okay, before we start, I’ll tell you about my qualifications. I was a police officer in the Philippines for twenty-five years.”

  So that’s the accent.

  “Afterward, I moved my family here and became a detective with Honolulu Police Department. I worked on all types of cases, but my specialty was murder investigations, yeah? Recently, I retired to have more time with my family, and also to work on cases that interest me.”

  For someone who’d been a PI for only a few years, his office looked like it had been in the biz for twenty. A calendar from the Hop Choi Seafood Company hung on the wall. The date was 1985. I pointed to the calendar. “Is that calendar really from 1985?”

  “Oh, that. Yes. So busy, no time to clean previous tenant stuff, yeah?”

  He was basically a one-man operation.

  “I work alone,” he said, squinting his eyes. “This way, no office politics.” He flicked his index finger up in the air. “But if the case calls for more manpower, I have very good men I can bring on board. I also have access to men with specialized service, yeah?”

  “What do you mean by a ‘specialized service’?” I asked.

  “Could be we need a language expert, or sometimes we gotta crack a code or an anagram. You know, like in the Da Vinci Code movie.”

  “Really? You’ve had cases like that?”

  “I said sometimes we gotta, as in gotta be prepared. Know what I mean?”

  “Oh.” I looked over at Izzy and she was just as confused as I was.

  Balagot leaned back in his gargantuan leather chair, looking like a little man-boy. “Guys, you are young, probably not too much money,” he said rubbing his stubby fingers. “I can work in any size budget and still get results.”

  I looked over at Izzy again. She shrugged and nodded. I still couldn’t believe this guy was a detective for all those years. What did he investigate, people who don’t pick up their dog’s crap at the local park?

  “All right, Mr. Balagot, let me tell you what’s going on.” I proceeded to fill the investigator in on everything that had happened to us. He sat there quietly, with both hands clasped together, index fingers resting against his lips. He nodded occasionally while listening intently. His eyes were small but focused. When I wrapped up my story, he didn’t say anything right away, preferring I guess, to soak it all in.

  “Okay, guys. Give me an hour to consider this case, yeah? I have your number. I’ll call,” he said, his smile returning.

  Before Izzy and I could comprehend what was happening, the short man was ushering us out of his office. We stood in the quiet hallway looking at each other, befuddled.

  Izzy shifted her weight to one leg and folded her arms across her chest. “Well, now what? I thought we hired him and that’s why we were filling him in.”

  “That’s what I thought, too.”

  “Should we go see the other PIs?”

  “Let’s give him his hour and see what he says. I have a feeling about this guy.”

  Chapter 43

  We were looking at security cameras when Balagot called my cell to let us know he was accepting the case. I thanked him. He said he would come up with a game plan that night, and the next day he would come out to our place on the North Shore to discuss his plan of action. We were excited and relieved. I don’t know why—there were plenty of other investigators we could have talked to—but there was just something about Balagot that told me he could help us. Maybe it was his constant smile or his small, yet confident, stature. Whatever it was, it worked.

  Before returning to the North Shore that afternoon, I was able to get an entire wireless surveillance system that included a viewing monitor and two cameras with night vision for $350 bucks from Best Buy. I had the whole system up and running within an hour. It was cool.

  From a monitor in our bedroom, we could look at the side of the house and the lanai or both at the same time. There was an app that allowed us to monitor the feed from our iPad. The system stored footage automatically. It was exactly what we needed. I only wished we had thought of this the first time I made security enhancements to the cottage. Balagot thought it was a great idea too.

  Later that evening, I made my second attempt to hunt down Braddah Moku and see if he had found out any news about Kalani.

  “Want to come?” I asked Izzy.

  “Nah, just go ahead. I’ll be fine. I mean, you’re not going to be there all night, right?”

  “No. I’m just going to talk to Braddah Moku and then come right back.”

  “We got the video cameras up,” she said, nodding to the iPad in her hand. “I’ll be fine.”

  I gave her a kiss and headed out the door.

  When I got to Kolohe’s, Braddah Moku was in his usual position, sitting by the entrance to the bar. I said a quick hello and headed to grab beers for both of us. At the bar, I saw a familiar face.

  “Hey, Momi. What’s going on?”

  “Eh, you know. A little of this. A little of that.” She didn’t look at me, instead staring directly into her drink.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, trying to catch her
eye.

  Momi turned to me and smiled. “I’m fine, Darby. Just having a few drinks.”

  From the sound of her slurring I assumed she had a good start on the night. It looked like she was tossing back seven and sevens. I bought her a round and said bye. I was eager to talk to Braddah Moku.

  I handed the gentle giant a beer. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Not much. How things stay with you?”

  “We had family and friends in town for a week, so that kept Izzy and me pretty busy. And… well, I proposed to her.”

  Braddah Moku’s eyes widened as his big arm swung around and slapped me on the back. “Right on, Darby. Congrats on that. You guys going make one great couple.”

  “Thanks. It feels right.”

  “Eh, Darby, you know, I looked into the Kalani thing. Nothing concrete on him yet, but I went find out you guys not the only ones who got hit. Couple other houses along the North Shore went have some thefts.”

  “We had another encounter last night. Whoever it was set off the motion sensor lights.”

  Braddah Moku was taking a gulp of his beer when I said that, but his eyes conveyed his thoughts. “Oh, nah, I never hear about this one. Did you see who it was?”

  “Yeah, very briefly though. But I know for a fact he was dressed in a black hoodie.”

  “Kalani owns a black hoodie.”

  “No shit,” I said and took a Braddah Moku-size sip.

  “Brah, I feel for you guys. Usually I can find out pretty fast who did what around here. If it him, he stay pretty smart about how he messing with you guys. How Izzy holding up with all this?”

  “She’s fine, but inside it’s bothering her. We put up video cameras around the house.”

  “Great idea, Darby.”

  I leaned in closer to Braddah Moku, not wanting to broadcast the next bit of information. “That’s not all; we also hired a private investigator.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, but keep it on the down low. I don’t want people knowing what we did.”

  “No worries. What about the police?”

  “What about them? They’ve been kind of useless from the start. We felt like we had to take control of the situation, especially after last night. That’s the reason for the PI.”

  “Eh, Darby, if it helps catch whoever it is, then it’s worth it.”

  I nodded while I surveyed the place. Momi was still sitting at the bar.

  I motioned over to her with my head. “I never took Momi to be a huge drinker.”

  Braddah Moku looked at her for second. “Yeah, she usually not, but every now and then she going party hard.”

  I drained the last of my beer. “I gotta get back to the house. Don’t want to leave Izzy alone.”

  “Right on. I going keep my ears open. Let me know if there anything else, okay, brah?”

  I stood up and patted Braddah Moku on the shoulder. “Thanks. I appreciate it. I held out the other two beers. “Why don’t you finish these two?”

  Braddah Moku smiled. “I will.”

  I jumped back into my Jeep and hurried back to the cottage.

  Izzy was still sitting on the couch, watching television, when I got home. Before she could get a word out, I started to tell her everything Braddah Moku and I talked about.

  “So he doesn’t think Kalani is responsible,” she said.

  “He’s not hearing anything on it. The intel isn’t there, but he hasn’t ruled him out. He thinks Kalani is capable of pulling this type of stuff; there’s just no evidence.”

  “So, what now?”

  “Well, Braddah Moku said he would reach out to Kawika and get his take on things. But our best bet is going to be our PI. Braddah Moku isn’t actually going around investigating, if you know what I mean. It’s what he hears.”

  Izzy nodded and turned back to the television. I could tell she was upset. I didn’t blame her. I took a seat next to her and put a hand on her thigh, giving a comforting squeeze.

  “Tomorrow Mr. Balagot is coming out here. We should start getting answers now that he’s involved. We’ve exhausted our angles here. Fresh thinking is what we need.”

  Chapter 44

  Rudi Balagot was a cop first, a family man second. But after ten years with the Honolulu Police Department, he gave in to his wife’s wishes and became a private investigator.

  He had been a PI now for a little over a year and was still adjusting to his new way of life. He no longer chased the latest serial killer, but followed the suspicions of a wife who felt her husband was laying pipe around town. It was a watered down version of his old job. Seriously. But it was safe and steady, paid the bills, and for the most part, was a nine-to-fiver. And that made Imelda and the kids happy.

  The only thing Balagot wouldn’t give up was having an office in the downtown area. It’s where the action was, where his cop buddies were. He couldn’t say goodbye to that yet. Didn’t want to either. Of course the only place he could afford office space was in an office building in Chinatown that functioned more like a day-to-day hotel. It was a flea trap. Some of the street walkers turned tricks in empty offices. He was probably the only paying occupant on his floor but he didn’t care.

  The Balagots lived in the same valley as the University of Hawaii, except their house was located deeper inside Manoa Valley, just off of East Manoa Road. Living that far in meant it rained often, just like it did the morning Balagot had planned to drive out to the North Shore. It didn’t bother him. He knew that the moment he exited the valley it would be dry and sunny. That’s the curse of living in lush greenery.

  Balagot was excited about his new case. He hadn’t wanted to appear overeager when he met Darby and Izzy, for fear that he might scare the couple off. But it was the first case that had come across his desk since he left the force that had absolutely nothing to do with infidelities or a missing animal. It was a real case that involved breaking and entering and assault, perhaps more if it escalated.

  His mind had been working the case ever since the couple left his office. It felt good. He felt like his old self again. He had the feeling this case was more than it appeared to be on the surface. And he liked that.

  “So, Rudi, what’s this new case you mentioned last night before bed?” Imelda was shorter than Balagot, probably no more than five feet, two inches. She was still dressed in her yellow terry cloth robe and wore fluffy house slippers to combat the cold tiled floor of the kitchen as she sat at the table sipping her coffee. Her shoulder-length black hair was pulled back into a lazy ponytail. And at age fifty, Imelda’s olive colored skin showed no signs of wear and tear.

  “Oh, nothing to worry about. Problem with trespassing. The client wants to find out who’s coming into their yard,” Balagot said, dialing it down a bit.

  “Why are people coming into their yard? Do they have a lychee tree full of ripe fruit?”

  “Could be. That’s why I need to go there today.” Balagot scooped a few more spoonfuls of oatmeal into his mouth. The doctor said his cholesterol was high, so Imelda fed him oatmeal every morning—bland oatmeal. “It’s out on the North Shore, so I’ll be gone most of the day.”

  Imelda cleared his bowl. “So far away. Will you be home for dinner?”

  “Oh, yeah. Count on it.” Balagot folded the newspaper he had been reading and stood up. It was nine in the morning and their two young daughters were in front of the television watching cartoons. He gave his wife a peck on the cheek and checked on the girls before leaving. It was important that he made sure his routine was the same and he moved at the same speed. Imelda was happy with his new work schedule and didn’t want him to go back to chasing danger. He didn’t want to give her reason to keep asking more questions.

  Chapter 45

  The drive to the north side of the island was a nice change of scenery. Balagot barely noticed the time with the case on his mind. The first thing he had to do was find this Kalani kid, do a knock and talk, and get a feel for his side of the story. While he had no reason not to b
elieve the accusations made by Darby and Izzy, they were only accusations and the evidence was circumstantial at best. He needed concrete evidence—proof of the kid’s involvement.

  He had already had a buddy with HPD pull Kalani’s rap sheet. He had acquired a long list of misdemeanors during his teens and did a year at the now-retired Hale Ho’omalu Juvenile Hall for stealing cars. Other than that, there was nothing that suggested a pattern of violence. Of course, it had been three years since Kalani left the facility. He hadn’t been picked up since but Balagot found it hard to believe a short stint like that had left him rehabilitated.

  The other person of interest was this Braddah Moku character. If he had his ear to the ground, the PI wanted to be right alongside him, listening. Until Balagot could talk to them and a few others, there was nothing more to do.

  Balagot reached the beach cottage a little after ten-thirty in the morning—a half hour early. Already parked in the garage was a brown Jeep, and he pulled his Mazda 626 right behind it. On the front door, there was a note: “Mr. Balagot, In case you get here early, we’re here. Surfing the break in front of the house. See you soon—Darby” Balagot crumpled the note and shoved it in his pants pocket. He figured he might as well walk the property until they returned.

  Circling the house, he checked the windows and the doors. The security improvements that Darby had added were good. If someone wanted to get into the house, they were going to need a blowtorch to cut through these iron window grills. Balagot also made a mental note that the right side of the house had heavy vegetation, lots of bushes and trees. This would provide an abundance of places for a perpetrator to hide from a nosy neighbor with 911 on speed dial. The right side is also where the large picture window was. So this is where the peeping Tom stood.

  He stepped up to the window and placed his hands against the glass so he could look inside. It was the only way he could see anything, with the sunlight reflecting off the glass. No one was there, but he got a full view of the living room and a partial look into the kitchen. He didn’t know what was behind the three doors he saw. Bedroom? Bathroom?