by Al Boudreau
“I have it. DOGZLIF.”
“All right. Let me put you on hold for a minute while I hand this off to one of my dispatchers.” About a minute went by before Kehoe came back on the line. “Carter, the reason I called is to let you know we just wrapped up our interview with Ellis Odell’s brother, Curtis. He had a lot to say, some of it very enlightening. Not sure what your day is looking like, but we probably ought to meet and go over these notes together.”
“Absolutely. How long will you be at the station?” I asked.
“I’m leaving shortly. I live in Ewa Beach, so it might make sense to meet halfway between where I live and where you’re staying in Kapolei.”
“That’ll work.”
“Hold on, Carter,” Kehoe said. He came back on after a few seconds. “Got that registration info for you. We’re talking about a silver BMW, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“Okay, the vehicle is registered to a business in Makakilo. Pearl Veterinary Clinic, 28 Teahupoo Court.”
A flash bulb went off inside my head. “This is a big help, Sergeant. Thank you, and I’ll call you when I’m done tailing this guy.”
“Good. You’ll have to contact me on my cell phone. Still have my number?” Kehoe asked.
“I do.”
“Okay. See you in a bit.”
My brain was so busy linking what Sergeant Kehoe had just said to what I’d discovered here in Pūpūkea, I forgot to say goodbye before dumping his call.
I recalled our Odell imposter’s story about Amber Odell’s tracking device being removed by a veterinarian right before she was taken.
Blue scrubs.
DOGZLIF.
The guy we were tracking was a veterinarian. Which explained why he could afford to drive a $100,000 car.
Was this clown the same vet our imposter spoke of? An animal doctor who also happened to perform operations on humans? One who’d risk his career to surgically remove a tracking device from a little girl’s arm? If he was the same guy, why had he been targeted for GPS tracking, too? At this point there was no way of knowing if the story had actually taken place, or was merely some twisted fabrication, but safe to say I needed to treat it as more than just some simple coincidence.
I grabbed my phone and called Andrew.
“Hey, Carter. Target’s still heading West on Kamehameha, same as before.”
“Yep. I’ve got eyes on him. Listen, I need you to drop what you’re doing for a few. Do a search for me. Pearl Veterinary Clinic. Located in a town called Makakilo.”
“Whoa, Carter, you … you seriously just blew my mind.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, I checked out Amber Odell’s social media accounts. She hasn’t posted on any of them over the past two weeks,” Andrew said. “But she made a post two days ago using what appears to be her grandmother’s account. Sent two pictures to a friend’s account. In the first picture she’s holding up her arm, and it shows her face. The other picture is a close-up of just her arm. Shows what appears to be the results of a pretty nasty procedure. Stitches look sloppy and infected. The message she included above the pictures allowed me to draw the conclusion I’m about to share. First, let me read you the message. It says, Love equals being treated like a dog? followed by hashtag Doctor Graf.” Ready for the kicker? The Doctor Graf she mentioned in the message runs Pearl Veterinary Clinic in Makakilo.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope. For real.”
“That’s … wow, excellent work. Anything else?” I asked.
“Not yet. But I’ll keep looking.”
The implications of what Andrew discovered had my mind spinning a mile a minute.
Enough to distract me from paying attention to my driving.
I slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop no more than a foot away from the rear bumper of the car in front of me.
“What was that?” Andrew asked. “Carter? You okay?”
“Yeah … fine,” I replied as my heart sank back down, out of my throat. “Listen, nice work. Real nice work. Exactly what it means to be a PI. Call me with an update if anything changes.”
“Sure thing. Thanks for the words.”
I backed off the throttle to make space between me and the car ahead before calling Sergeant Kehoe. One close call today was enough.
“Kehoe.”
“Sergeant, Carter Peterson again. I just got what I believe to be the name of the veterinarian I’m tailing. Todd Graf. My associate found evidence that may very well link Graf to the Odell case. And Graf was wearing scrubs when I saw him get in his car, which leads me to the conclusion he’s on his way to the clinic in Makakilo. Would it make sense for us to meet there?”
“What kind of evidence?”
“Seems Odell’s daughter posted a picture of a botch job she claims this guy did on her arm. And called him out on it in a post to a friend,” I replied.
“Uh huh. Okay, Carter, sounds solid enough. I’ll meet you there. Do not approach Graf. I’m going to call in one of my units. What’s your ETA?”
“I’m just passing Schofield Barracks now, so maybe twenty minutes?”
“Good. See you there.”
This case was finally heating up, due in large part to Andrew’s contribution. First day on the job and he’d already managed to discover actionable information. I was proud of him. And feeling a little stupid I’d given Sarah grief about her brother’s lack of experience. As usual, she’d been right on the money.
I became aware of my left foot bouncing on the rental car’s dead-pedal as the landscape rolled slowly past. My grip on the steering wheel was akin to strangling a chicken. I wished I could snap my fingers and magically get to where I was going. Andrew and Sergeant Kehoe both had information I was eager to hear. The act of piecing together a comment here, a photograph there, words and observations captured as I plied my trade; those were the details that eventually made cases come together. Each part eventually making a whole. It was where my true joy of investigative work came from.
And here I was, stuck behind the wheel, battling traffic.
I pictured Sarah sitting in the passenger seat next to me, throwing out some off-color comment designed to make me laugh. Making the mundane bearable. Enjoyable, even.
I was going to have to rethink this whole concept of her taking a lesser role in the business. She didn’t want to be stuck in an administrative situation, and aside from being concerned for her safety, I didn’t want that for her, either. I wanted her out in the trenches with me. Where we both knew she belonged.
After what felt like hours I spotted the exit for H1 along the roadside ahead. I had no idea where 28 Teahupoo Court was, so I resigned myself to the fact I’d be using the rental car’s built-in GPS system. Sarah once laughed at me for fighting this particular technology, seeing that I used so many other electronic gadgets in the field. I guess trying to find your way without a decent map was a guy thing.
I programmed the Makakilo address into the screen. The poor electronic excuse for a female’s voice immediately began telling me where to go.
What would Graf’s reaction be once he encountered multiple police officers marching through his place of business? Judging from what I’d seen and heard this afternoon, there were likely many creative ways this wild card broke the law. Maybe even often enough where he’d have to run through a mental laundry list to figure out the most likely reason for a visit from the authorities.
I wondered if Kehoe would allow me to shadow him and his men inside the clinic. I really didn’t want to miss the opportunity to witness Graf’s reaction.
My phone rang. “This is Carter.”
“It’s Andrew. Our best guess turned out to be a good one. The target stopped moving in Makakilo. The map shows the location as Pearl Veterinary Clinic, 28 Teahupoo Court.”
“Thanks, Andrew. The Honolulu PD are going to meet me there. We’re about to pay the good doctor a visit. I’ll call you once I’m clear.�
�
“Sounds good,” Andrew said.
The GPS gal was blabbing non-stop now, which told me I was getting close.
Another couple hundred yards and I was close enough to see the Pearl Veterinary Clinic sign. And a white Honolulu Police cruiser, with its telltale blue stripe and gold shield, parked at a convenience store across the street.
I wheeled the rental car into the business’s lot, parked, and walked over to the blue-and-white.
“You Carter Peterson?” the officer behind the wheel asked.
“That’s right.”
“Jump in the back,” the officer riding shotgun said. “Sergeant’s on his way.”
I slid inside the cage as the cop behind the wheel turned his head toward me. “This Graf guy shook your tail, huh?”
“Well, we were tracking him with GPS, so I didn’t even try to stay with him. Guy drives like a tool, anyways.”
“Oh, we know,” the second cop said. “I’ve written Graf at least two speeding tickets since he moved here, and I know a few other officers who have written him up, too. He’s exactly one moving violation away from losing his driving privileges.”
“Yeah? Well, I wish you could have seen him over on the North Shore a while ago,” I said. “Passed three cars on Kamehameha. Nearly hit a kid on a bike then came within inches of eating the front end of a dump truck.”
The cops looked at one another and shook their heads. “We intend to get him off the road real soon,” the driver said.
The second cop tipped his head. “Sergeant’s here.”
Kehoe pulled up in an unmarked cruiser, parked, and slid in beside me. “All right. Carter, I’m sure you don’t want to miss the fun. Just hang back until we get inside before you come in.”
“No problem.”
Without another word the officer behind the wheel put the cruiser in gear, shot across the busy road, and pulled the front end so close to the clinic’s entrance I questioned whether there’d be room to enter the building.
I allowed Kehoe and his men a few seconds head start before making my way inside. Just in time to see the receptionist leading the trio down the hall to Graf’s office. She pointed out his door then stepped aside.
Guns drawn, the two officers entered without knocking.
I could see Graf’s face from where I was standing. Much to my surprise, his expression changed from neutral to mild amusement.
Graf beat everyone to the punch, making a comment before Kehoe or his officers had a chance to speak. “Well,” he said, “that didn’t take long.”
Chapter 18
“You’re pretty calm for a man implicated in a murder investigation,” Sergeant Kehoe said.
“Murder? What? Are you out of your mind?” Graf responded.
Now they had his attention.
One of Kehoe’s officers, unimpressed with Graf’s disrespect toward the sergeant, cranked Graf’s arm in and up the middle of his back so hard it made me wince.
Graf yelped like one of his canine patients. “You have no grounds for treating me this way.”
“Don’t I?” the officer said, shaking his head while ratcheting the bracelets onto Graf’s wrists. “Let’s start with speeding, passing in a No Passing zone, and reckless endangerment. Should I keep going?”
Sergeant Kehoe looked at me and winked, looking pleased that I’d shared Graf’s latest stunt with his men. “Take him downtown and stick him in a room. I’ll be along shortly,” Kehoe said to his men. “Carter, what do you say we get a coffee?”
“Yep. Good call,” I said as we made our way through a waiting room full of barking dogs and their owners. I followed Kehoe out of the clinic, the two of us stepping up our pace to join the perp-walk parade crossing the busy roadway ahead.
Kehoe was about to speak when he was interrupted by a string of profanity from Graf. We stood next to Kehoe’s cruiser and watched his officers stuff the struggling veterinarian into the back of their car and take off toward Honolulu. “Funny how they always try to fight it when reality catches up with them,” Kehoe said. “Anyways, there’s a decent coffee shop back toward the highway if you want to follow me there.”
We made the short trip past a multitude of businesses into the overflowing parking lot of Kam’s Koffee Kitchen. The sergeant parked in a striped stall designated with a No Parking sign, while I shoe-horned the rental into the only remaining spot, too tight for most normal-thinking folk.
I was about to get out when Andrew called. “Carter, that target’s on the move again.”
“Huh. Cops just took Graf away in their cruiser, so that means he must have a tracking implant, too. Appreciate the heads-up,” I said as I climbed out. “See you in a bit.”
“Place is busy for so late in the day,” Kehoe said.
“I guess when you described the place as a ‘decent coffee shop,’ you meant best coffee on the island,” I said.
“It’s pretty good,” he replied as an employee burst through the entry doors and stomped up to Kehoe.
“Sir, you obviously missed the sign. You can’t park there. You need to move your car, immediately,” the woman said. She was obviously unschooled in the art of recognizing unmarked police vehicles. And, with Sergeant Kehoe in street clothes, she’d mistakenly poked a bear.
Kehoe, who proved to be a cool customer at every turn, simply hoisted the bottom of his shirt enough to reveal his shiny shield.
The woman wilted, her demeanor morphing into a cartoon character watching a freight train barreling down on her, open mouth forming a perfect circle. Once she’d overcome her loss for words she turned heel, held the door, and ushered us in. “What can I get you gentlemen?” she inquired.
“Large black,” Kehoe responded.
“Same,” I chimed in.
“I don’t play that card often,” Kehoe told me as the woman busied herself with our order, “but once in a while it’s nice to take a liberty or two.”
I nodded in response, remembering similar circumstances from my cop years. “Looks like a table’s opening up over in the corner,” I said and headed toward it.
Keheo got comfortable in his chair just as the manager brought our coffee over.
“Sorry about that out there,” she said. “Coffees are on me today.”
Kehoe thanked her then turned to me. “Carter, send me a link to that info your associate found concerning the girl as soon as you can. I’ll need it to hold Graf until we can locate some better evidence. I’ll get warrants together so we can search his home and his business.”
“Sure. I’ll get it to you as soon as I get back to Ko Ahiku” I replied. “My associate just called as we were pulling in here. The GPS tracker was showing movement as your men took Graf away. He must have a tracking implant like Amber Odell’s.”
“Excellent. We can use that.” Kehoe took a sip of his coffee. “So, Ellis Odell’s brother Curtis has agreed to extend his stay on Oahu after some coaxing. Nice guy. Had a long conversation with him about Ellis’s problems.”
I got out my notebook.
“Curtis confirmed what you told me the other night about Ellis’s drug use. Said it not only ruined his brother’s oral surgery practice, but his marriage, too. Apparently, Mrs. Odell found herself a new love interest. Curtis claims to have seen her getting real cozy with some guy late one night. Curtis claims he followed the guy home—home being a pop-up camper inside a place called Dockweiler Beach RV Park in Playa Del Rey, California.” Kehoe paused to drink a few sips.
“Were we lucky enough to get a name?” I asked.
“He couldn’t give us a name, but he did give us a rough description of the guy. Apparently, Mrs. Odell has specific taste in men. Curtis said that, from a distance, he was convinced the guy was actually his brother, Ellis. Age, height, build … all pretty much the same. Unfortunately, he was never able to get close enough to see details of the guy’s face. Said he’d have a difficult time picking him out of a lineup.”
My hand started cramping up from trying to write
too fast. I took a break and a long pull from my mug. Did Curtis say whether or not he thought the guy could be involved in Ellis’s death?” I asked.
“He seems convinced his brother was a victim of foul play. And it all fits with what you shared concerning this character impersonating Odell.”
I picked up my pen and jotted down Terri Odell’s cell number. “Maybe it’s time to rattle Mrs. Odell’s cage,” I said as I tore the page out and slid it over to Kehoe.
Kehoe nodded. “By the way, Curtis also told me Mrs. Odell’s mother lives here on Oahu. Last name is Stone. He didn’t have an address, but that shouldn’t be too difficult to find. Could be a clue as to where the daughter might be.”
I slapped the table. “That makes total sense. My associate said the social media post Amber Odell posted concerning Graf was sent via her grandmother’s account.”
“There you go,” Kehoe said as he finished his coffee and slid his chair out.
“You know, I’ve been going back and forth as to whether Terri Odell is in on this, or just a pawn stuck in the middle. We end up finding Amber Odell at her grandmother’s house, safe to say Mrs. Odell is in on the scam.”
Kehoe nodded. “No doubt. Carter, I’ve got to get back to Honolulu.”
I downed my coffee and got another one to go before hitting the road. Information was finally coming in, and I was eager to break this case. Hawaii, as beautiful as it was, held no allure for me at this point. Sarah wasn’t here. And it felt nothing like home.
Chapter 19
Andrew’s face lit up as I stepped inside our suite. “Good news, Carter. I found some information concerning Amber Odell’s grandmother. She’s right here on the island. Grace Stone, 94-535 Anania Court, Mililani.”
“Nice job. Sergeant Kehoe spoke with Ellis Odell’s brother, Curtis. He also mentioned that the grandmother lives here on Oahu.”
Andrew handed me the information. “Probably where the girl is, huh?”
“She might be, but things are never quite what they seem. You’ll find that out on your own as you gain experience in this field. Best advice I can give you? Trust your hunches, but never bet the farm on them.”
