Motive

by Dustin Stevens

  Ignoring all the obvious questions about the arrangement Reyes had with the girls, Kalani honed in on Lauren Mann. In a few days she would tip off Tseng about Reyes and let him handle it however he saw fit. At the moment, he wasn’t her main concern, and it wasn’t like he was going anywhere. They knew where he lived and what he drove, coming back to lean on him at a moment’s notice wouldn’t be a problem.

  “When was the last time you saw Lauren?” Kalani asked.

  The girl’s eyes bunched up tight as she thought about it, folds of skin gathering near her temples. She stared off at the opposite wall a moment, thinking, before saying, “Maybe a week, two weeks ago?”

  “Where was this?” Rip asked.

  “Outside her apartment,” the girl replied. “She owed Leo money and we stopped by to get it.”

  Kalani cast a quick glance over to Rip. The timeframe seemed consistent with what the neighbor had told them the day before. “Were the two of them arguing?”

  Again the girl paused. “Some, I think. I had worked late the night before, so I was dozing in the truck. It wasn’t too bad though. I’ve seen worse.”

  “He hit her?” Rip asked.

  “Hell no, I didn’t hit her!” Reyes snapped, again trying to take his feet.

  Once more Rip was on him before he made it to full height, forcing him back down into the chair. “Do not move again,” Rip warned, sticking a beefy finger in his face. “Or you’ll be sorry you did.”

  “Man, I’m sitting right here,” Reyes replied. “Why the hell don’t you just ask me the questions? Yeah, I went over there. Yeah, she owed me money. No, I didn’t hit her, but I should have.”

  Kalani could see a cloud pass over Rip’s face, a dark storm that threatened to unleash itself on Reyes. She could see his left hand bunch itself into a fist, ready to strike. It was a far cry from the good natured Texan she was used to, a peek into the other half, the career military lawman.

  “Was that the last time you saw her?” Kalani asked.

  “Yeah, it was the last time I saw her,” Reyes said. “I told her she had until Saturday to get me my money or I’d be back.”

  “And then what would happen?” Rip said, leaning in a few inches towards Reyes, his body poised.

  Reyes met the stare for a long moment. “I don’t know. Nobody’s ever been dumb enough to find out.”

  The two glared at each other, both like feral animals, ready to lash out. Across from them Kalani could feel the situation slipping away, ready to descend into anarchy at any moment. She had no worries that she and Rip were in any danger, it was more the fact that the chief had been explicit in telling her not to make any kind of public waves.

  An officer on leave and a former MP beating the hell out of a suspect to a murder that was scrubbed clean from the floor of the capitol within hours of it happening wouldn’t just be a wave, it would be a tsunami.

  “Did Lauren have any enemies?” Kalani asked, raising her voice, hoping it would break the standoff between Rip and Reyes. “Anybody that would want her dead?”

  Reyes continued to fix his gaze on Rip, saying nothing. Kalani gave him a moment before turning to the girl on the couch, motioning for her to answer.

  “No,” the girl managed, shaking her head. “Like I said, she was nice. The men liked her. Everybody liked her.”

  “What about working girls in general?” Kalani asked. “Anybody out there giving you a hard time?”

  “Better not be,” Reyes muttered, disdain in his voice.

  Kalani ignored him, focusing in on the girl. “How about it? Anybody out there giving you ladies a hard time?”

  The girl remained silent a long moment, again focusing on the opposite wall. “No,” she finally said, her voice detached, her mind still trying to wrestle with the question that had been posed. “The men who hate us stay far away. The only ones that ever come around are the ones that love us.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Picking a spot for the meeting was a no-brainer. The beer garden at Gordon Biersch had been a favorite watering hole for members of the governor’s security detail since its construction a decade and a half before. Located on the far corner of the Aloha Tower Marketplace, it was just a three block walk from the capitol, backing right up against the water of Honolulu Harbor.

  Most of the people that worked in the capitol preferred one of the local places downtown. The young interns tended to congregate at Indigo, the trendy new place with art deco light fixtures and overpriced martinis. Various staffers, lifers that had made a career of chasing deadlines and catering to the whims of their congressional delegates, flocked to places like Jack’s, a dive on the edge of Chinatown that specialized in serving bottles of beer by the bucket. The delegates themselves opted for venues such as the Hukilau, upscale places that were safely tucked away from prying eyes or media members.

  All of those reasons combined were what drove the security detail to the beer garden. Housed a stone’s throw from the iconic tower, it spent its days housed in the shade of whatever cruise liner was in port, dispensing hundreds of non-English speaking tourists into the city.

  Those tourists provided the perfect cover for the men that spent their work lives roaming the capitol grounds to unwind. Never did they have to worry about running into anybody from work, who would deride being seen in such a place.

  The fact that it wasn’t a local hangout was exactly why the men had chosen it years before, a tradition that had been passed from one administration to the next.

  Sam Nakoa arrived at the beer garden at ten minutes before one, posting up on an elevated chair at a small table a few feet off the bar. He ordered a Longboard Summer Ale in a glass and sat sipping at it, feigning interest in an episode of Sportscenter above. Beyond him he could see a pair of ocean trawlers heading back into the harbor, their fishing nets tied up high, sterns sitting low from the weight of a full load stowed away below deck. The smell of diesel fumes and fresh catch accompanied them.

  “Big Sam,” a voice said from behind him, stopping the Longboard halfway to his mouth.

  At the sound of it Sam lowered the glass to the table without taking a drink and smiled, sliding from his chair and walking forward, arms extended. “Daniel-San.”

  Across from him, Dany Pogi matched the smile and the pose, the two men embracing, mashing together almost six hundred pounds of flesh wrapped in aloha shirts. They held it for just a moment before stepping back and going to either side of the table, both climbing up onto their respective chairs.

  “Get you a beer, brah?” Sam asked.

  “Eh, no t’anks,” Dany replied, waving a thick hand at him. “I’m on the clock, yeah.”

  Sam nodded, aware that it was still the middle of the day. He himself had not yet decided if he was returning back to the warehouse for the afternoon, letting the flow of the meeting dictate his next move. Meeting so early was not his first choice, having rather waited until the evening to meet when he could order some beers and the two men could talk story. This was the only time Dany had available though, so Sam went with it.

  “Thanks for meeting with me,” Sam opened. “I know this time of year is crazy.”

  “Naw, no need for t’anks,” Dany said, the occasional word of Pidgin sliding effortlessly into his speech. “One old friend Sam Nakoa calls and asks to meet, you meet.”

  A large smile stretched across Sam’s face. He and Dany had spent two years working together for the new administration, Sam showing him the ropes to ascend into the position he had held for almost a decade.

  Fifteen years younger than Sam, Dany had made his way onto the detail from the private sector. A product of American Samoa, football had brought him to the island as an oversized child at the age of seventeen. Perfect weather and gainful employment opportunities had kept him around for nearly twenty years.

  In conforming with the code laid out for all security detail members, Dany’s hair was short and neat, the black locks just starting to show the stray grey. Weighing righ
t at three hundred pounds his neck and face were fleshy without being flabby, his bulk carried well for a man his size.

  “How’s everything going over there?” Sam asked. “Duke still driving you guys into the ground?”

  A deep, hearty laugh rolled up out of Dany, shaking his oversized chest. “Oh, you know Duke. All those people showing up for the legislative session present a threat, we need to be on high alert, yada yada.”

  A wistful smile tugged at Sam’s lips, having heard the same speech every spring for a decade himself. “Not to mention all the fundraisers and such going on in the evenings. Poor guy’s going to give himself a heart attack one of these years.”

  “Ha! The Duke, a heart?” Dany replied, slapping the table with a ham-sized hand. His impact was stronger than intended, Sam’s beer glass bouncing from the blow, a few drops of the orange-tinted liquid spilling out onto the table.

  Lifting the glass up, Sam used the napkin it was sitting on to wipe the table clean, taking a long drink.

  For a solid day and a half he had wrestled with the news Kimo had given him. At its core, the information was patently absurd. No politician, not even one as self-deluded as Randle, would have the nerve to cover such a thing. Election year or not, murder was a heinous offense. Hiding such an event would get him crucified in both the judicial court and the court of public opinion.

  For whatever reason though, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that the story was just crazy enough to maybe have a bit of truth in it. At first glance it was nothing short of blasphemy, but that very same reason made it too outlandish for somebody to just make up.

  It also made the subject quite sensitive, bringing with it a high level of difficulty in determining how to best approach it.

  “You want anything to eat or drink?” Sam asked, motioning towards the open-air bar nearby, the young tender looking bored behind it, polishing a row of glasses in anticipation of the afternoon’s happy hour.

  “Naw, I’m good,” Dany said, again waving the hand back and forth before him. “I’ve only got about half an hour, but I figured whatever was big enough to bring my old friend out of hiding was worth coming to check out.”

  Warning bells went off inside Sam’s head. He had heard nothing of the situation prior to Kimo showing up a day before, though apparently he wasn’t the first person to have been asking questions. If others were also poking around, it bore to reason that Dany had known all along what the meeting was about.

  Out of respect to his friend and his time, Sam decided to go right after it. If he was wrong, he could always go back and fill in the blanks behind him. All traces of mirth faded as he looked up at Dany, his eyes dark pools. He stared a long moment before asking simply, “Is it true?”

  Over the course of a half minute, every emotion receded from Dany’s face as well. His face became stony as he matched the gaze, a muscle twitching in his neck the only outward movement of any kind.

  “Who’s asking?” Dany asked, answering Sam’s question with one of his own.

  “So it is?” Sam asked, sensing that even without responding, Dany had done just that.

  “Who’s asking?” Dany repeated, arching an eyebrow and staring back at him.

  To his knowledge, nobody knew of Sam’s occasional discussions with Kimo. It was an arrangement that had started by accident eight years earlier, had benefitted them both through the time since. If it came down to it he would not jeopardize himself or his friends on the security detail to help Kimo, but if he could do so without the mention of too many names he would.

  “Yesterday morning somebody stopped by the warehouse and said they’d heard some things,” Sam said, sticking to a sanitized version of the truth for the time being.

  “And they asked you to check it out?” Dany asked, his gaze boring into Sam.

  “No, they just asked if I had heard anything,” Sam replied. “I told them I hadn’t, that the whole thing sounded crazy.”

  Dany held his gaze a long moment before slowly bobbing his head up and down. “Does, doesn’t it?”

  Internally, Sam felt himself release a sigh of relief. He was by no means out of the weeds yet, but he had taken an important first step in finding what he needed without raising suspicion. “So much so it bothered me. Kept thinking about it all day yesterday. Thought I’d come down here and talk to you so the next person that ever stops by I can tell to go to hell.”

  “Ha!” Dany spat out, rocking back away from the table before leaning forward and resuming his stance. “Big teddy bear Sam Nakoa telling anybody to go to hell. That’ll be the day.”

  A self-conscious grin spread across Sam’s face as he raised his eyebrows and again glanced over to the barman. “Sounded good anyway, right?”

  “That it did,” Dany agreed before falling silent. He kept his gaze aimed down at the black surface between them before leaning his bulk forward and resting his forearms on the table.

  “Because it’s you, I’ll tell you what I know, which isn’t much, and I’ll trust it goes no further.”

  Sam matched the pose across from him. “Goes without saying.”

  This time it was Dany’s turn to glance over to the bar, where a pair of sunburned tourists in linen shorts and straw hats had just sidled up. He watched them make small talk with the barkeep a moment and once content they weren’t listening in pressed ahead.

  “Three nights ago, Duke called in Nainoa and Malcolm for a special overnight detail. I’m not supposed to know that, but they were both absent from work the next day and I heard them discussing it this morning in the locker room.”

  Sam nodded. More than once he’d gleaned out important facts from hearing things he shouldn’t through the red metal locker that housed his street clothes.

  “I’m not sure what exactly they were doing, but from what it sounded like they were on a guard duty from about midnight until almost sunrise.”

  Deep parentheses formed on either side of Sam’s mouth as he frowned, processing the information. “Guard duty? At that time of night?”

  Across from him Dany raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “I don’t know. And it’s not like I can just ask. I could tell by the way they were talking it wasn’t something that was meant to be shared with the masses.”

  “Yeah,” Sam agreed, nodding for emphasis. “What about Duke? He ever mention it? Put out a request for people?”

  “Nothing,” Dany said, shaking his head, his lips pursed. “And you know as well as I do how special assignments are supposed to go.”

  Sam bobbed his head in understanding. He did know quite well that all special assignments were to be offered in descending order of seniority. For an overnighter to be given directly to the two lowest men on the totem pole without ever mentioning it to the others was surprising to say the least.

  There was only one last question to ask, something Sam was dreading more than everything else combined. He hated putting his friend on the spot, and knew whatever the answer was it would never be passed along, but he needed to know just the same.

  “Do you think it’s true?”

  A long moment passed, followed by a slow, deep sigh. Dany leaned back and looked out towards the sea, running a thick hand over his chin. He remained in that position for several seconds before shifting his face back towards Sam, his expression solemn.

  “Honestly? I have no idea what to think right now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The entire evening on Mary-Ann Harris’s public calendar was blocked out, a single large box colored green, stretching almost two inches tall. With the primary election just months away, this was not out of the ordinary. Nearly every night since the first of the year her time had been parceled off in one direction or another, meeting with donors or attending fundraisers. Unseating the incumbent was something that had only been done one other time in the history of the state, and in that situation the sitting governor had earned far more ire than Randle.

  Campaigns were expensive endeavors by any measure. For some
one sitting in Mary-Ann’s position, they were a veritable money pit.

  Unlike most every other appointment in her calendar though, the meeting was simply marked Private. No further explanation was given, no contact number listed where she might be found.

  Some of the low-level campaign employees had noticed the appointment when it first appeared a day before and had taken to speculation. The most popular hypothesis was that the widow had finally found someone worthy of a fling. Others proffered much safer choices, such as the candidate just needed a night at home to rest.

  Mary-Ann was quite aware of every eye in the headquarters watching her as she gathered her things at fifteen minutes before six and headed for the door. Her Prada bag looped over a forearm, she kept her head aimed straight ahead and walked through the room, most of her face hidden behind a pair of oversized sunglasses. She pretended not to notice the sideways glances and the snickers popping up around her, pushing her way out through the front doors and onto the sidewalk where a taxi sat waiting for her.

  The thought of taking her own car had occurred to her, though it seemed more prudent to hire a cab for the evening. Where she was going, the most important thing was to be as inconspicuous as possible, and nothing fit the bill in Honolulu like a cab in the early evening.

  Tucked away in the backseat, Mary-Ann slid the sunglasses from her face and sat in silence for the fifteen minute ride. Despite the hour traffic had not yet eased up, the entire affair a stop-and-go exercise that left her nauseated, focused on the world outside in an attempt to settle her stomach.

  Beyond the car, the late day sun shined golden over the city, refracting from every reflective surface. Hordes of commuters loaded and unloaded from city buses, students on bicycles weaving between them at every stop. The business casual attire that had dominated the scene just hours before had already given way to tank tops and slippers, board shorts and backwards hats.