Motive

by Dustin Stevens

“Two things you should know right off,” Kimo said after a full minute. “I don’t give free passes, and I don’t do puff pieces.”

  Confusion clouded Harris’s face for a moment. She twisted her head to the side and pursed her lips, motioning for him to continue.

  “The first part is pretty straight-forward. If this is because you guys are under investigation for election fraud, have been receiving illicit campaign donations, hell, you’re screwing the kid that hands out buttons for you, I don’t care. If you called me here to ask me to look the other way, that’s not going to happen.”

  A flush of indignation fired hot behind Harris’s cheeks. It took her several moments to quash it down, swallowing the hostility she wanted to fire back at him. “I understand, and I assure you that’s not why I called.”

  “And the second part,” Kimo said, “should be self-explanatory. Your back story, an Army wife, the mayor’s wife, now a crusading widow, all of it, while admirable and a great human interest piece, isn’t my bag.

  “Besides,” he added, motioning to the bookcase behind Harris’s head, “you’ve already written that story yourself.”

  There was a slight urge for Harris to turn and look in the direction Kimo motioned, but she managed to refrain. The book wasn’t her idea and she wasn’t terribly proud of the way it turned out. It was done at the suggestion of many consultants who claimed she needed something to catapult her forward as a legitimate candidate before jumping into politics.

  “That’s not why I called you either,” Harris said, her voice cool. So far Kimo had taken the upper hand in the conversation, but from this point forward it was her show to run.

  “So why am I here?” Kimo asked.

  Harris paused and took another long pull from her coffee, making sure she had his attention. She had thought all morning on how best to spring this news on him, finally opting for the straight-ahead approach. “I have it on good authority that a body was found at the state capitol this morning.”

  There was no visible outward reaction from Kimo at all.

  “Bullshit,” he said. “I have been working all night. If the police had gotten a call last night, I would have heard about it.”

  Harris shifted her head at the neck from side to side, her white-blonde hair brushing against her shoulders. “The police weren’t called.”

  Kimo opened his mouth to speak before pausing, his eyes narrowing. “What?”

  “The body was found lying dead center of the mosaic on the capitol floor. Governor Randle didn’t want it getting out, presumably this close to the election, and ordered a complete cover-up.”

  “Bullshit,” Kimo repeated, leaning his head back in his chair. “The governor is crazy, but he’s not stupid. No way he concealed something like that, especially this close to an election.”

  Harris raised her palms to the ceiling. “I’m just telling you what I know.”

  “Yeah? And how do you know this?”

  “I’m sure a man like you can respect the need to protect sources,” Harris replied. “But I can assure you, it came from a very solid connection. If it was said this happened, it happened.”

  Kimo paused, staring up at the bookshelf behind Harris’s head. He tapped his thumb in rapid fashion against his thigh, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Harris could see the questions and plot points forming in his head, his mind already trying to wrap itself around the enormity of what she was telling him.

  “Who was it?”

  “I don’t know,” Harris said. “All I know is it was a young woman, maybe early-twenties.”

  “That’s pretty thin.”

  Harris shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve got a campaign to run here. You’re the reporter. I gave you a golden lead, where it goes is on you.”

  The statement came out a little harsher than planned, though the words did manage to find their intended mark. Kimo shifted his gaze from the bookcase to Harris, his eyes cold. He glared at her for several moments before leaning his head back in the chair again.

  “I still don’t buy it,” Kimo said. “This isn’t television. These sorts of things don’t happen in real life.”

  “That’s exactly what I said, but my contact was emphatic. Said they knew it to be true beyond a shadow of doubt.”

  “Huh,” Kimo said, rolling the words around his mind. “And you’ll have to forgive me if I find you a less-than-credible source right now too, given what you stand to gain in all this.”

  “That’s fair,” Harris said, nodding. “I don’t expect preferential treatment here, or any treatment for that matter. I just happened to catch wind of something I’m now sending up the line.”

  “If that were really the case, you’d have called the police, not me,” Kimo bantered.

  “And told them what? I think, based off nothing more than a late night phone call, that my opponent is hiding a murder? That’s a good way to get myself a truckload of negative press.”

  “So you called me instead?”

  “You’re a well-respected reporter that has been known to work with the police before. If this is something, you can bring them in.”

  Kimo nodded his head slightly. “And if it’s not?”

  “Then you were given a bad lead. Unfortunate, but not unheard of.”

  Again Kimo worked at the inside of his jaw. Harris could tell that he was going through the required paces, feigning disinterest, acting skeptical, drawing the conversation out, but there was no way he wasn’t going to jump at this story. The possibilities were just too great, the implications too high, for him to resist.

  If she were a reporter, there’s no way she would have let it slide by.

  “If this does turn into something and the police ask where I got the lead?”

  “Anonymous source,” Harris replied. Her tone was iron, making sure that he knew that part was non-negotiable. “Does that mean you’ll take a look into this?”

  Kimo dropped his feet to the floor and stood. He hefted a shoulder bag up from the ground beside him and dropped the strap over his shoulder, the weight distorting his shirt across his chest.

  “You knew I would the moment you called me.”

  Chapter Seven

  Kalani knew exactly when her target would show up, the kind of knowledge accumulated from years of rote patterned behavior. In the off chance that something had changed in recent times she arrived a half hour early, parking her Jeep in the last free stall available in the Sunset Beach parking lot. Nothing more than two dozen spots marked out in faded yellow paint, she nosed the car into the last stall on the end and killed the engine.

  For a moment she sat still, listening to the engine tick. The ground sloped up from where she sat, blocking the ocean from view, but she could hear the waves depositing themselves on the beach less than a hundred yards away. The smell of salt was heavy in the air, filling her nostrils and settling on her skin.

  A half smile traced her lips as she climbed out and stepped over the knee-high concrete wall separating the parking lot from the grassy bank of Sunset Park.

  Checking her watch, she saw she still had a few minutes, so she walked across the grass and stopped by the line of Koa trees that marked the start of the beach. In front of her mounds of clean white sand sloped downward for thirty yards before dropping off abruptly towards the sea, the end result of a winter of pounding waves.

  The smile on her face grew a bit larger as she stared out, a persistent breeze rolling off of the water and rushing over her face, pushing the hair from her neck.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” a voice said from behind her, the sound familiar in her ears. She waited a moment with her eyes closed and the smile in place before turning on the ball of her foot back towards the parking lot.

  There, standing in front of her, was Jon Ripowski.

  Nearly three years had passed since she’d last seen him, though the only differences were his hair was a little longer and his body a bit leaner. Otherwise, he still had the same blonde locks and dark skin, both accentuated
by a heavy dose of sun. His blue eyes sparkled as he smiled at her, a wide toothy grin stretched halfway across his face.

  He was dressed in a winter wet suit, the top half off and hanging loose around his waist. The bottom half stopped just below the knee, his feet bare. A seven foot cutter surfboard was tucked beneath his left arm, the leash dragging along the ground behind him.

  “Kalani Lewis,” he said, ambling towards her in an exaggerated walk, throwing one foot out in front of the other. “How the hell are you?”

  “Hey, Rip,” Kalani said, approaching him in the same gait. She went straight to him as he extended the right hand away from his body, rising onto her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck. She felt his grip pull tight across her rib cage a long moment before the two released, stepping back a few feet to assess one another.

  “My God,” Rip said, drawing the word out so it sounded closer to ‘Gawd,’ his Texas drawl on full display. “What’s it been now? Two, three years?”

  “Anyway,” Kalani said, nodding. “Not since the retirement party.”

  Rip had sent flowers after the incident with a card expressing his apologies for being on the mainland for the winter. At the time, it was seen as nothing more than a kind gesture.

  Now, it was the very reason for her being on Sunset.

  “That’s right,” Rip said, smiling and nodding. “The retirement party. How is your old man? Still doesn’t want to move back to Hawaii?”

  “Ha!” Kalani replied, the sound coming out more like a bark than a laugh. “He says every day he’s coming back, but we all know he never will. Pennsylvania is his home, no matter how cold it gets in the wintertime.”

  Rip shook his head from side to side as she talked, a wistful smile in place.

  “And how have you been?” Kalani asked. She waved a hand at the board and his attire and said, “I see you’re still taking full advantage of that military schedule.”

  “Actually, I’m out,” Rip replied. “Signed on at seventeen, put in my twenty, got out four months ago.”

  An exaggerated look of surprise rolled out of Kalani, her eyes bulging. “You’re retired? At thirty-seven?”

  “Not a bad life, right?” Rip said, smiling and extending his arms to either side. He closed his eyes and raised his face towards the sun, letting it roll over his features. “Though if anybody asks, I signed up at eighteen and got out at thirty-eight. You know how the Army can be about their rules.”

  Kalani knew about their rules far better than any person that had never served should ever have to. “Mum’s the word.”

  “So to what do I owe the pleasure of your company today? You don’t appear to be dressed for the water, though I’ve got another suit in the van if you’re interested.”

  “Oh God, the van,” Kalani said, bending at the waist to see past him. “I would have hoped that thing was long gone by now.”

  “Hey, don’t make fun of Vanna,” Rip said. “She might not look like much, but she’s a classic.”

  “Yeah, she looks like something that’ll get you arrested while sitting outside an elementary school.”

  A deep snort rolled out of Rip as he shook his head, waving a hand at her. “Did you have a purpose in coming out here today? Or were you just looking to make fun of my girl?”

  Kalani shifted herself back upright, the smile fading from her face. She waited as a pair of young men in wet suits with body boards sauntered by, each of them leering at her as they went. Once they were out of earshot she nodded to a bench overlooking the beach. “You got a minute?”

  The smile fell away from Rip’s face as well, his face taking on a solemn expression. He nodded once, his eyes never leaving Kalani. “Alright.”

  In silence they walked over and took a seat, Rip leaning his board against the backrest and perching himself on the top edge. Kalani settled herself on the seat and turned towards him, one leg curled beneath her.

  She’d been trying to piece together all day how to best approach this, the right words still eluding her. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm, her voice even.

  She was just here to ask for an old friend’s help. The worst he could do was say no.

  “This morning, Chief Tseng paid me a visit at home,” she began.

  Rip remained silent, watching her, waiting for her to get to the reason she was there.

  Kalani glanced up at his unblinking face, then twisted and checked the area to make sure they were alone. On the opposite side of the park two young girls threw a tennis ball to a small mutt of indiscernible breed. In the parking lot a trio of oversized tourists in garish shirts loaded into their rented convertible.

  Nobody paid them any mind.

  “Last night a body was found on the floor of the state capitol. Governor Randle wants to keep it quiet, so he called Tseng directly, told him it stays off the books.”

  “Damn,” Rip muttered. “Must have either been somebody important or foul play involved.”

  “Definitely wasn’t the first one,” Kalani said. “Not sure about the second. Either way, he told Tseng he wants me personally to look into it, report everything I find back to him.”

  Rip’s eyes shot open, surprise obvious on his features. “You?”

  “Me.”

  “I mean, no offense,” Rip said, “but are you up for that just yet?”

  Kalani turned and looked out over the ocean, a dozen or more surfers dotting the water. She watched as they sat atop the turquoise water, nothing more than small dots rising and falling with the waves. “None taken. And, truthfully, I have no idea. But I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Mmm,” Rip said, twisting himself to face forward. He leaned his elbows onto his knees and looked out at the ocean, the late day sun painting his body gold.

  Kalani stared at him a moment, his attention shifted away from her. It was the first time since he arrived that he wasn’t peering directly at her, the opportunity she’d been looking for. If there was ever a moment when she could get her request out, this had to be it.

  Another deep breath before plunging straight ahead.

  “Look, I know this is random, and please don’t feel obligated in the slightest. Chief Tseng said I could work with someone on this, but they couldn’t be from the force, past or present.”

  Rip remained silent a moment. “Doesn’t leave a lot for you to choose from.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant,” Kalani said. She paused a moment and took another breath, trying to put together exactly what she wanted to say.

  “My father always said you were the best MP that ever served under him. You know how the old man was, he didn’t just dole out praise like that.”

  A small turn of the head was the only response Rip gave.

  “You’ve been a friend of the family for years and years now,” Kalani said, “which makes this that much harder to ask. But at the same time, you’re one of the few people here I trust. If I’m going to get back out there, I have to have that.”

  There were a few more things she wanted to add, but held off. Instead she turned back towards the ocean and matched Rip’s pose.

  “Look, I know this is sudden,” she said. “I’m going to meet with the ME at Tripler tomorrow morning at ten. I’ll be having breakfast at Roy’s at nine. If you can join me, I’d love to have you. If not, it was good seeing you Rip, and thank you for the flowers. They meant a lot.”

  Her resolve gone, Kalani rose and turned away. “Don’t be afraid to stop by some night for a beer.”

  She walked back across the grassy expanse without turning around, climbed into her Jeep and eased away. The last thing she saw as she pulled onto the King Kamehameha Highway was Rip, still seated on the back of the bench, his board resting by his side.

  Chapter Eight

  Danilo Cruz lifted the second 5 Hour Energy to his lips and upended it, the few ounces of liquid caffeine tasteless as it slid down his throat. He tapped the rim of the container against his bottom teeth to make sure it was comple
tely empty before twisting the cap back on and placing it in the cup holder beside him.

  The van he was now seated in was a loaner, a vehicle procured specifically for the task at hand. Despite his love for the new truck and all that it symbolized, it was also easy to recognize and remember. If anybody were to catch a glimpse of him as he did this, he needed to make sure they recalled something that could in no way be traced back to him.

  Danilo sat behind the wheel of the van and shook his head, willing the energy drink to do its job and jolt him awake. Years before he had sworn off ever drinking coffee, a tribute to his parents that spent so much of their lives being forced to pick it. As the years on his odometer inched their way towards forty though, he found himself more and more in need of an artificial jump start to the day.

  Especially when so many of his days seemed to be starting as the sun was going down.

  Curled up in a cage on the backseat was a small dog, a Westie-Terrier mix he picked up at an animal shelter on the windward side that morning. Black and white in color, it whined every few moments, its empty stomach rumbling loud enough for Danilo to hear from the front seat.

  Neither the dog nor its hunger was any of consequence to Danilo. Both were now present for a distinct purpose and would be cast aside once it was served.

  Slumped low behind the wheel, Danilo was almost invisible as he sat and watched the park across the street. Nestled in behind Roosevelt High School, it sat right at the base of Tantalus Mountain. Stretched over a hundred yards in length, it featured a small playground in the center with a series of athletic courts off to the right. On the left was a makeshift skate park, a handful of young boys in hard hats and elbow pads plying their tricks.

  The park was chosen for two very distinct reasons. First, he knew the area well. Just two blocks away from Roosevelt High School, he had spent many weekend evenings watching ballgames at nearby Ticky Vascellenos stadium. Never before had he thought of the nights spent under the lights as performing reconnaissance, but it had turned out to be a nice side benefit.

  The second was the unique geographic advantage the park provided him. With an elongated design that curved around the base of the mountain, one end was virtually out-of-sight from the other. Even now as a group of adolescents rode skateboards on one side, they couldn’t see the quartet of young boys playing four-square at the opposite end.