by Toby Neal
“We just want to return her to her people, give her a decent burial.”
“I don’t know name.” The girl’s voice was heavily accented. Nothing Lei knew, but Stevens’s brows knit. Lei picked the photo up off the ground.
“How do you know her?”
Silence.
Stevens prompted. “She a friend?”
“Yes.”
“What’s her name?”
“I only know her stage name.”
“Stage name?”
“You know. For the…men.” She stumbled over the words. “Her name Vixen.”
“Vixen. Hm.” Stevens sounded thoughtful. “So how did you two meet?”
“In the place.”
“What place?” Gentle and slow, he crouched beside her, talking to her through the green nylon. The darkness of not seeing him must have felt like a confessional.
Lei, however, struggled with impatience, pacing back and forth and finally sitting in the chair beside Ramona and stripping the thorns off an unworked piece of hala leaf. She didn’t have Ramona’s sharpened thumbnail, but once she got the end of the tensile strip of thorns, it was easy to pull off.
“The place where they kept us. That place.”
“Where was that?”
“The ship mostly, but sometimes we’d be in a living place.”
“Ship?”
“We came on a ship. From our countries.”
“So you were both in the sex trade?”
Silence. Lei guessed Anchara wasn’t sure what that meant. He went on.
“So you both saw men there?”
“No. We went to hotels and met them there. Then we went back.”
“Who kept you there?”
Silence.
“Did you run away? Is that how you got here?”
“Yes.”
“How did you get away?”
“Vixen. She had taken the key and she let us out. I think they caught everyone else.”
Lei felt excitement smothering her, a tight band around her chest. Could the key she’d found lead to this place where the sex slaves were kept? Could there be a connection to the cruise ships, or was it some other ship? She focused on working the hala leaf to let Stevens keep going.
“How did Vixen die?” Anchara’s voice wobbled a bit.
“Car accident,” Stevens said. “I’m sorry.”
They heard a gasp, a muffled sob.
“Can you tell us more? Where did you two come from?”
A bit of a pause while the girl regrouped; then she spoke more firmly. “We told we could be waitress on a cruise ship. They only want pretty girls who want to see the world.” Her voice had a rhythmic quality to it, like she was reciting from a brochure. “They picked us, and we said goodbye to our families. It was so exciting getting on the ship. Then they locked us up, and—did things to us.”
Lei blew out a breath, and Ramona’s sharp, dark eyes pinned her, seeing more than she wanted them to see. She looked down, focused on tearing the long, flexible leaf into four equal-width strips like she’d seen Ramona do. The older woman went on with her basket weaving, impassive.
“Who brought you here to Maui?” Stevens asked.
“I don’t know. We never knew anything.”
“When you come to the hotels, who’s in charge?”
“We have a woman. She helps us get ready for the night. Puts on makeup, gives us dresses. Then there is a man. He drives the car to the hotel and makes sure we get back.”
“Do you know their names?”
“They don’t like us to know, but I hear the woman’s name—it Celeste. The man is Kimo.”
“So have you been on Maui long?”
“Not long. We on the ship a lot. We go to different places. I don’t know where they are. It doesn’t matter where they are.”
Her accented voice had a flatness that made the words even more terrible.
Stevens picked up the rhythm again.
“So where are you from? All from the same place?”
“No. All over. I from Thailand. Vixen from Albania. She never want to talk. We all try to help each other. We talk at night in the dark after they turn off the lights. But not Vixen. She wouldn’t tell us her name. She wouldn’t be friends. She only thought of get away.”
“But she was the one to let you out.”
“Yes. And now she dead.”
“I think we should take you somewhere safe,” Stevens said.
“No!” Her voice climbed. “You deport me!”
“Would that be so bad? What about your family? Wouldn’t they rather have you back than think you disappeared?”
“It better for me to start a new life,” Anchara said. “I won’t go with you.”
Stevens looked over at Lei. They could take her in by force, but where would they put her? There was nothing to charge her with, and she was an illegal alien. She’d end up locked up and deported, and they needed her as a witness for their case if it was to go anywhere.
Lei looked at Ramona. “Is it okay if she stays with you?”
“Yes. Girl needs somewhere to stay. I look out for her.”
Stevens took out his wallet and peeled off several twenties.
“This is for food for Anchara. We don’t want to take her anywhere she doesn’t want to go, but we need her to stay here, be available in case we need to talk to her again. There may be some danger if the people who kept her captive are looking for her.”
Ramona took the money and inclined her head. “I’ll look after her and hide her if anyone else comes looking.”
Stevens turned back to the tent, gentled his voice. “I’ve given Ramona some money for food for you. This is an okay place for you to hide for the moment. Please stay here. We may need to talk to you again.”
“I heard you,” Anchara said. “You won’t deport me, will you?”
“No. You’ll hide and wait here for us?”
“Deal,” she said. The door unzipped a bit and her small brown hand appeared. Lei realized she was waiting for something. Stevens smiled as he bent down and shook it.
“Deal.”
* * *
There are only a few permanent penthouse suites at the top of the building above the gallery, and I live in one of them. I’m getting out of the shower when my work phone rings—only our contacts have the number. Ugh, it’s never good when the work phone rings.
“Yes?”
“It’s Healani Chang. Our man is on it, but he wasn’t able to finish the project yet.” Healani’s husky voice has a deep ring to it. I’ve always liked the Hawaiian matriarch of the Big Island branch, with her rich chocolate eyes and regal bearing. She took over the Chang family operations after her husband Terry’s demise, and I thought she ran things better than he ever had.
“Damn. Well, thanks for taking this on. I hope I’m not overreacting, but I don’t like the look of this one.” It was an effort not to speak Texeira’s name. “I don’t know how far along her investigation is. My mole in MPD hasn’t been able to pick up much. But it worries me that if she pulls the right thread, we’re all connected.”
“You’re right to be worried. The girl’s a pit bull when she gets her teeth into something. That’s why I’m helping out—I should have taken care of it years ago.” Healani sighed. “It’s too bad, really. She’d have done well working for us.”
“Thanks for keeping me posted.”
“Watch the news. It’ll be on there when he gets it done.” Healani hung up.
The House hadn’t wanted to bring on the scrutiny of killing a cop, but…law enforcement was a dangerous profession, after all.
I rub gardenia-scented lotion into my legs. They’re looking good. I just had them waxed and I’ve been trying a new Pilates workout that’s bringing out some extra definition in the calves. I jump when the work phone rings again.
“It’s Kimo.”
“Yes. What is it?”
“It’s. . .” His voice trails off. He’s afraid to tell me something. T
he man is a chickenshit, and it pisses me off.
“What?”
“One of the girls is still missing. The Thai one with the long hair.”
“All the Thai girls have long hair. Which one?”
“Anchara. We called her Velvet.”
I remember Velvet. An exceptionally beautiful, delicately built girl with good skin and great hair the men love to grab. Good earner, too. I could get three or four tricks out of her a night when the ship was in town. At five hundred bucks a pop, she was worth her hundred pounds of body weight in gold.
“How’d it happen?”
“Well, you remember how Vixen let a bunch of them out of the warehouse. I said we got them all. I said that because I thought for sure we would, but—we didn’t. We’ve been looking all over the island.”
“Kimo, don’t ever lie to me. Find her; get it done. I’m going to take Velvet’s lost income out of your pay.”
I punch Off on the phone. I really need to work on my anger; it’s like a cat clawing at my belly. I go over to the deck, open the slider to my exceptional view of the ocean off Lahaina—smooth as blue silk today. Whipped-cream clouds collect over the purple smudge of Lana`i, and a few whales mark the distance with spume. I sit on my yoga mat and assume a meditation pose, cross-legged.
Empty my mind, breathe. Focus.
In the end it’s a fantasy of what I’ll do to Anchara when Kimo brings her to me that helps me find my center. She’s too valuable to dispose of—I’ve already lost thousands getting rid of Vixen—but there are things worse than death. I’ll enjoy teaching them to her.
Chapter 14
Lei’s injuries were beginning to yell at her again, so she was relieved to haul herself out of the frayed beach chair and hobble toward the truck with a wave to the inscrutable Ramona, still working her basket. She climbed into the cushy seat of the Tacoma with a sigh of relief, closing her eyes in sudden exhaustion. She took a Vicodin and washed it down with a bottle of tepid water she’d left in the truck. Stevens got behind the wheel, and they bumped out down the long dirt road.
They got out onto the road back to Kahului, going around a series of wide, swooping turns that followed the sculpted cliff line overlooking the ocean. Lei leaned her head against the window, taking in without seeing the views of rugged cliffs, single wings of windsurfers and bright arcs of kiteboarders riding the strong wind and waves. She dozed.
Lei climbed into bed when they got home. The Vicodin had kicked in, and she fell asleep to the sound of Stevens calling Captain Corpuz to report on the recent developments.
She woke to the murmur of voices in the other room. She’d shucked off her clothes and fallen into bed in her bra and panties, so she grabbed her old kimono off the back of the door and wrapped herself in it.
Her head felt a little clearer, though the bruised ribs still talked to her with every breath and the hip was a solid roadmap of purple. She walked out into their living room and stopped in her tracks.
The Steel Butterfly was sitting on her couch, looking immaculate and quite comfortable.
Pono sat beside her with his forehead scrunched, and Stevens sat in the armchair. They all stared at her. Lei reached up to touch the bandage on her shorn head.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” Pono said.
“Texeira, you look terrible.” Omura’s voice was unexpectedly warm. “Why didn’t you call this in to me earlier? I had to hear it from Captain Corpuz after Stevens called down there.”
“I was pretty out of it. I guess I didn’t think it was a department matter.” Even on a personal call like this, Omura put Lei on the defensive.
“Well. Sorry to drop in on you like this, but we need to know all about what’s going on with this Russian girl and this accident that you had.”
Lei came into the room, and Stevens gave her the armchair, fetching one of the kitchen chairs to sit beside her.
“I already opened a case on Lei’s hit-and-run. That was definitely no accident.” Stevens filled in more details.
“Tell us about this runaway out at Pauwela. What made you go out there canvassing on your day off?” Omura’s keen eyes wandered over Lei’s battered frame and bandaged head, but for the first time, Lei didn’t feel like her boss was taking inventory of her shortcomings.
“The girl isn’t Russian. She’s Thai. And we thought we’d take a picnic,” Lei said. Defensiveness was a hard habit to break.
Stevens looked Omura in the eye and shook his head. “You know how she is when she’s on a case.”
Omura inclined her head, glossy black hair swinging. “I’m beginning to.”
“Well, anyway. That homeless young mom I called Child Welfare on told us about Anchara. The girl’s an escaped sex slave.” Lei filled them in on the overall content of the interview and the arrangement they’d made to keep the girl stashed out there. “If we bring her in, we don’t have anywhere to put her.”
“The safe house,” Pono said. “It’s fine. No one’s using it.”
“The safe house is available only with proper clearance. It may be worthwhile for me to get it for the girl, however. It’s going to take some time to investigate and build this case, and I’d hate for this hooker to disappear.” Omura was making notes with her fingertips on a calfskin-covered iPad.
“She’s a sex slave, not a hooker.” Lei felt compelled to speak up on the girl’s behalf. “She got on that ship thinking she was going to be a waitress and see the world, and got raped and imprisoned for it.”
No one said anything. It was a nightmare scenario.
“So what about this gallery owner who gave the call girl card to the construction company? Think there’s a connection? I thought you said that witness Silva mentioned that the girls at that party had accents.” Omura looked around the room, taking in the simple furnishings and two vivid paintings, one an abstract and the other an impressionistic landscape of Bali Hai on Kaua`i.
“I don’t know if there’s a connection. Pono and I blew our cover on that one; we’ll have to monitor from outside, send another team to get in with her and find out what her connection with the hookers is. I was thinking maybe Abe Torufu and Gerry Bunuelos from Kahului Station would be willing to do a sting for us. Or we could just bring her in for an interview.”
Omura tapped her nails on the glossy leather case.
“If they’re willing to help, set it up. The captain said you could use some resources from his department. We’re all thinking this case is going to go big. Oh, and take the day off Monday. That’s an order.”
Lieutenant Omura stood up. For the first time, Lei realized she wasn’t in her usual dapper tailored uniform, but wore a pair of narrow black jeans and a scoop-necked silk top. She looked beautiful but more approachable—until she walked toward the door and her high-heeled shoes, laced in colored bands across the insteps, click-clacked on the hardwood floor.
She gestured to the shoes. “Sorry. They’re a real hassle to take off at the door. Thought I was just going to be here a minute.” Removing shoes at the door was good manners in Hawaii.
“It’s fine,” all three of them said. Stevens ushered her out and closed the door behind her.
Lei leaned backward in the armchair, and her head throbbed in protest. She groaned. “Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to see Lieutenant Steel Butterfly Omura in my living room. What do you guys think C.J. stands for? She has those initials on her desk plaque.”
Pono leaned forward, a twinkle in his deep brown eyes. “I was curious too. Looked it up online. Her first name is Cherry Joy.”
“Cherry Joy!” Lei burst into laughter. “I’m never going to be scared of her again.”
“Probably why she tries to keep that under wraps.”
Stevens went to the kitchen. Evening was slanting orange light across the counters. He took a couple of Longboard Pale Ales out of the fridge, popped the tops, and brought them back to Lei and Pono.
“Say what you want. I think she’s a good commanding officer. Got a g
ood head on her shoulders and willing to take action. Not just playing the political game. Soon as I finished talking to my captain, he must have called her. She showed up not ten minutes later. Was concerned about you.” He pointed his beer at Lei.
“I’ll bet she was concerned that I’m going to put in for Workmen’s Comp,” Lei answered, but felt good anyway. She was being taken seriously; this threat was being taken seriously. And she was being given some cred and some resources to follow Vixen wherever she led them—be it cruise ship, art gallery, or boardroom.
Feeling good gave her the fuel to do what she needed to about another situation.
Chapter 15
Lei waited until the guys went out on the front stoop, still talking office politics, and fetched her cell phone, going back into the bedroom and closing the door. She lay back down on the bed and called the number for Corrections Aftercare Solutions, the nonprofit agency that handled reintegration of ex-convicts back into the workforce.
She asked for the worker who’d helped with her father’s reintegration plan.
“Aftercare Solutions, this is Aaron Spellman.”
“Hello, Aaron. This is Lei Texeira, Wayne Texeira’s daughter, the detective. I’m with Maui Police Department now. Remember me?”
“Yes, how are you? And how’s your father? He was such a conscientious participant!” Aaron Spellman’s hearty tone grated on her nerves just as it had back on Kaua`i. The man had a radio announcer’s voice and a car salesman’s manner.
“I’m fine; he’s fine—but I need your help with a case. I’m following up with a recent parolee who’s probably in your system. Name’s Charlie Kwon.”
Just saying his name out loud was difficult. She found her lips pulling back from her teeth in a grimace of disgust.
“What’s your interest in him?”
She had her story ready. “Some cold cases. Want to find out where he was at the time.”
“Sure, lemme look the guy up.” Rattle of computer keys. “Yep, he appears to be on Oahu.” He recited the address, and she took it down with a stub of pencil on the little spiral notebook she used for personal notes.
“Thanks.” Lei closed the phone and set down the pencil and notebook. Just that easily, she knew where Kwon was. It wouldn’t be long before she had him where she wanted him. If she could just deal with him, wherever that led, she might be able to do more than wear Stevens’s diamond ring around her neck.
