"That may be, but it didn't happen here. I had nothing to do with his death."
"So you say. I'm just not sure you're being straight with me."
Lynnette frowned. "This is ridiculous. I'm not a murderer. Besides, I had an alibi for the time of Parker's murder."
"I know—you were with your daughter." Ferguson paused. "Maybe you were and maybe you weren't. That doesn't mean either or both of you couldn't have hired someone else to take Breslin out. If this was the case, we'll find out sooner or later. Do yourself and your daughter a favor and tell me right now anything you know about your ex son-in-law's death..."
"I have no idea who killed Parker or why someone would. No matter what I thought of him, he was still my granddaughter's father. I would never want to take that away from her."
Ferguson had trouble believing that. But, short of any evidence to the contrary, he had no choice but to let her walk. He glanced at the mirror, knowing Rachel was on the other side. Maybe she'd have better luck with the daughter, Willa Breslin.
* * *
"What do you think?" Lieutenant Seymour asked. He and Rachel were watching through the one-way window as Ferguson interrogated the suspect.
Not mincing words, Rachel responded flatly: "I think she knows more than she's letting on."
"I was thinking the same thing. By all accounts, she and her daughter are pretty tight and were on the same page about wanting full custody of Breslin's daughter. If they did have something to do with killing him, Lynnette Takeyama doesn't seem in any hurry to come clean, as if they can just sweep it under the rug till the dust settles."
Rachel agreed that Lynnette was not a weak link in the mother-daughter bond. It was up to her to go after Willa Breslin and see if she would crack.
"My turn," she told Seymour. "Wish me luck!"
Seymour flashed a half grin. "Since when have you needed luck to break down a suspect? If she's hiding something, I'm sure you'll be able to see right through it, to one degree or another."
Rachel smiled, happy to have his vote of confidence. She was glad that he had made lieutenant, as the job suited him. She was also pleased that he had ironed out things with his wife after a fling with Leila Kahana. Though Rachel liked her fellow detective, she preferred that Leila stick with single men and leave the married ones alone. Having lost her own husband in combat, she would give anything for a chance to work on her marriage again, which wasn't perfect, but something Rachel cherished for what it was and could be no more.
She stepped inside the room where Willa Breslin had waited patiently. "Sorry to keep you waiting," Rachel lied to her. It was a ploy often used in police interrogations to soften up suspects, already stressed out by sitting helplessly between those four walls.
"Are we here to talk about your progress in trying to find out who killed Parker?" Willa asked.
Rachel could barely suppress a laugh while thinking: She's a real piece of work. "Yes, you could say that," she told her sardonically. She sat across from Willa and met her eyes squarely. "We have information that leads us to believe you were involved in your ex-husband's murder..."
Willa's eyes popped wide. "Information from who?"
Rachel sidestepped the question, hoping it was enough to lead to a possible confession. "Did you hire someone to kill Parker Breslin?"
"No!" she exclaimed. "I did no such thing. I would never hire a killer to kill anyone."
Rachel tried to read her eyes and expression. Was she really that good? Or was she lying through her teeth?
"Maybe your mother commissioned someone to solve your problem of getting rid of a former husband before he gained full custody of your daughter," Rachel suggested.
Willa sighed, but spoke coolly: "My mother does not go around spending what little money she has to hire assassins. I mean, really—who would do such a thing, knowing the consequences?"
Rachel chuckled humorlessly. "Haven't you been watching Investigation Discovery and other true crime channels? It happens a lot more often than you think."
"I don't watch much TV," she said. "Even if I did, I know that murder is the most serious crime and would only blow back at you. The thought of spending the rest of my life in prison in order to keep my daughter away from my ex makes no sense. Apart from never forgiving me, I'd never get to be a part of the very life I was trying to protect."
Rachel picked up on that last point. "Protect her from what? Breslin was gainfully employed, seemed to dote on his daughter, and there was no record that he had ever abused her. Why don't you enlighten me as to why Marie needed protecting?"
"You wouldn't understand," hissed Willa.
"Try me," Rachel demanded, wishing she and Greg bad been blessed to have children before he passed away. The thought of any parent deliberately depriving a child of the other parent really rubbed her the wrong way.
Willa sighed. "Parker wasn't husband or father of the year," she stated. "Behind the scenes, he had no problem criticizing me, even after our marriage ended. And he always put his work ahead of Marie. There were numerous times he didn't show up for the prescheduled time they were supposed to spend together, leaving her in tears. When he was around, his drinking often left my daughter alone to fend for herself while he was passed out—or put her in danger when he drove while intoxicated. So excuse me for not wanting Marie to be part of that. But I wanted to win full custody of her through the courts—not by committing murder. You have to believe that."
I don't have to believe anything, lady, thought Rachel. Yet her mind had to be open to the possibility that Breslin's wife played no role in his death, in spite of her gut feelings to the contrary.
"Maybe a boyfriend acted out on your behalf—or even without your knowledge," she suggested, "to get rid of the problem of an ex-husband who you clearly loathed."
Willa flashed an appalled look at the mere notion. "Detective, I don't have that type of power over any man. If I did, I certainly wouldn't use it. Besides, I'm not seeing anyone at the moment."
"What about before this moment?" Rachel fixed her face with a sharp gaze. "If there was anyone who perhaps could have misinterpreted your—"
"There was no one!" Willa insisted, cutting her off. "I'm not to blame for what happened to Parker and neither is my mother."
We'll see if that's true or not, Rachel mused. "Well, on that note, I guess we're done here. I appreciate your help in clearing this up."
"You asked, and I came." Willa seemed to relax. "Believe it or not, Detective, I want to see justice in this case, if only for my daughter's sake in knowing that someone paid for harming her daddy."
* * *
"I don't think Willa's being straight with us," Rachel declared a few minutes later as she conferred with Ferguson.
"Yeah, neither is her mother," he said. "I'm pretty sure Parker Breslin felt she was the mother-in-law from hell."
Rachel had sensed this unhealthy mother-daughter bond from the moment she met them. But how far had they been willing to take things? "We need to have someone follow Willa and see who she's spending time with, outside of her daughter and mother." Rachel wanted to see if she had a love interest who might hold the key to solving this case.
"Good idea," agreed Ferguson. "Willa Breslin strikes me as someone who doesn't go very long without companionship. Who knows what else she might have wanted from him for her trouble."
Rachel contemplated his words thoughtfully.
Twenty minutes later, she walked into an A.A. meeting in Wailuku. She had been voluntarily attending the meetings for the last two months, hoping to gain control of the drinking problem she'd developed since her husband died. There were about twenty people present. One of them she recognized as a former officer with the police department who had turned to alcohol as a coping mechanism after accidentally killing a woman during a confrontation with a robbery suspect.
Rachel took a seat and listened as a Hispanic man in his thirties spoke from the podium, telling everyone what his alcoholism had cost him both professiona
lly and personally.
When the time came for her to speak, she gathered up the courage, as she had during previous meetings—viewing this as a catharsis in coming to terms with Greg's death and trying to move on with her life, as he would have wanted.
"My name is Rachel," she said evenly, pausing as her eyes panned the audience. "And I'm an alcoholic—"
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"You look so skinny," Leila's mother told her bluntly when she picked her up at the airport.
"I weigh the same as the last time you saw me," Leila said, while silently conceding that she might have lost a few pounds between exercise and work. On the other hand, her mother looked a little heavier than when she visited her on the Big Island a few months ago, but she was still comfortable in her own skin at fifty-one.
Leila felt she looked more like her father than her mother, but most people who knew both of them felt she bore a strong resemblance to her mother—especially her eyes and the way she smiled. How could she argue with that?
"Starving yourself isn't the way to go," Rena told her, dismissing Leila's response.
"I didn't know I was," she couldn't help but say; then thought better in not wanting them to get off on the wrong foot. "I was never as good a cook as you are, Mom."
"In that case, it's a good thing I'm here. I can teach you a few things..."
I can hardly wait, Leila thought sarcastically, and grabbed one of her mother's bags.
When they got to her house, Leila wondered if she should have tidied up the place a bit more, knowing that her mother was prone to criticism. But to her surprise, she actually complimented her on the place.
"My, my," Rena said, looking around, "the place is spotless. How do you ever find the time?"
"I just use whatever time I have," she answered. "Do you want to grab a bite to eat?" She wasn't exactly in the mood for cooking lessons right now. On top of that, she hadn't had a chance to go to the grocery store.
Rena shook her head. "No, maybe later. I'm a little tired right now. I think I'll take a short nap."
"Okay." Leila hoped her mother wasn't ill. She assumed she would tell her if there was something wrong with her health. So instead of needlessly speculating, she would try to enjoy this visit as much as possible, though her current investigation into the murder of Joyce Yashiro was never far from her mind.
Leila took her mother's bags to her room and then left her alone. She decided to call Jonny Chung to discuss their current case.
By the time she hit the sack, Leila was exhausted for some reason. For a moment, she thought about her mother sound asleep and wondered if it was a genetic thing. More likely, she believed her own tiredness was the result of a difficult stretch where she was putting in extra hours to solve a murder and keep the Zip Line Killer case from growing too old.
Leila drifted off to sleep almost instantly.
* * *
She was up early the next morning and debated as to whether or not to wake her mother, who had never been an early riser. In the end, Leila decided to let her sleep and get up when she was ready. In spite of Rena clinging to traditional Hawaiian values, ever since Leila's father passed away her mother had become much more independent, which had given her the courage to relocate to the Big Island of Hawaii and make a life for herself there.
With that in mind, Leila was sure her mother would have no trouble being on her own while she was at work. She left her a note, nonetheless, and some money on the kitchen counter in case she needed anything.
Half an hour later, Leila and Chung were making their way across the College of Maui campus in Kahului, passing by palm trees and well-manicured lawns. A few minutes later, they arrived at the Ethnic and Racial Studies Department.
Inside, they headed toward an office with Glenn Diamont's name on the nameplate. Leila could hear conversation within. At the entrance, she saw a young Asian woman doing the talking, sprinkled with a few giggles.
When Leila stepped inside the office, she spotted a tall man with curly black hair and glasses. At a glance, he did not appear to be the man seen on Joyce Yashiro's security video. But he could have changed his appearance then or now.
He chuckled at something the student said, before realizing they had company. "Hope that cleared it up," he said cryptically to her.
She flashed her teeth while offering no comment.
"See you in class," he told her.
She grinned. "Sure, Mr. Diamont."
Leila watched with amusement as Chung appeared to be smitten by the shapely young woman who batted her lashes at him as she left the office. Leila then turned her attention back to the man.
"Glenn Diamont?" she asked, to be sure.
"That's me." He adjusted his glasses. "How can I help you?"
He's not the man in the video, Leila confirmed silently, but he's still in the hot seat. She flashed her badge, as did Chung. "I'm Detective Sergeant Kahana and this is Detective Chung of the Maui Police Department. We need to ask you a few questions about your former colleague, Joyce Yashiro."
He tensed. "Yes, I was very sorry to hear about her death. But I'm not sure what I can tell you—"
Chung glared at him. "You can start by telling us about the stalking."
He touched his glasses again. "What stalking?"
"Don't play games, Diamont," Chung snapped. "We know you were stalking the lady—sending her harassing text messages and what not—so spare us the deer in the headlights act."
Leila knew that Chung was baiting the instructor, hoping to elicit a confession to at least the stalking charges.
"Look, I don't know where you got this information, but I wasn't stalking Joyce," argued Diamont.
"We can get a warrant to search your digital content," Leila warned him. "If your texts show you were harassing Mrs. Yashiro, charges can still be filed against you."
Diamont sucked in a deep breath. "Okay, I may have sent her a few texts, but it wasn't stalking or sexual harassment."
"Enlighten us," Chung demanded, glowering at the suspect.
"Joyce and I had been flirting with each other as colleagues, so I finally asked her out on a date. She accepted and it seemed like we were on the same page. Or so I thought. She went from one extreme to the other—going from hot to cold by the time the date ended when I tried to kiss her goodnight. With the texts, I was just acting out of frustration and resentment after being led on by her, only to be rejected when I tried to put the moves on her."
"People get rejected all the time," Leila pointed out, having gone down that road a time or two herself. "It's normal. Stalking isn't and it's not acceptable."
"I know and that's not what it was..." Diamont lowered his head.
"What do you call showing up at her house uninvited? I call it stalking!" Chung said accusingly.
"I just wanted to talk to her—clear the air," stammered Diamont. "When it didn't work, I left her alone."
"But not for long, right?" Chung challenged him. "When she refused to capitulate, you followed her to the beach and murdered her—"
Diamont took an involuntary step backwards. "Wait, you don't think I had anything to do with that?"
"Maybe you had everything to do with it," Leila said, keeping the pressure on. She narrowed her eyes at the suspect. "Did you kill Joyce Yashiro?"
He grimaced. "Absolutely not!"
"In that case, I'm sure you can supply us with an airtight alibi for the morning she died," Chung said, getting up in his face.
Diamont stood his ground. "Yeah, I do have one. I was on Oahu at a symposium that entire day," he stated confidently. "I arrived the day before. Plenty of people saw me. I also have documentation. So you see I couldn't have killed her."
"That remains to be seen." Chung put some space between them nevertheless. "We'll need that documentation, as well as talk to some people who saw you there," he muttered skeptically.
"Okay." Diamont ran a hand across his mouth. "No matter how things turned out for us, I would never have wanted Joyce de
ad."
Leila gave him the benefit of the doubt for the moment, even if she considered him a slime bag who had stalked Joyce. "We'll check out your alibi when you deliver on it. If there are any holes, you can expect to see us again—at the police station."
* * *
That afternoon, Glenn Diamont was officially cleared as the perpetrator in the murder of Joyce Yashiro. However, given his obsession with the victim, he remained a person of interest insofar as being a possible collaborator in her death.
Leila went to the crime lab after being told that important information had been retrieved from Joyce's computer that was relevant to the investigation. She found Computer Forensic Specialist Andrea Uddipa at her station.
"What have you got for me?" Leila asked her eagerly.
"Well, it took a while to recover data that Joyce Yashiro had either erased or was encrypted. But in the end, I did what I do: outsmarted the computer." Andrea grinned. "What I found that may be of interest to you and Detective Chung is that Joyce was a member of a local online dating service called, Maui Hot Dates."
Leila raised a brow. "Is that so?" She wondered if it was something she might be interested in, aside from the fact that one member might be a murderer.
"Yep. From what I can tell, she actually went on at least one date with two different guys."
"You have their names, photos?" Leila asked, thinking that the photographs might point to one or the other being caught on Joyce's home security video.
"I do have their names and a headshot, along with some other personal and professional information," Andrea told her, "which may or may not be true." She pulled up the information for the first one.
Leila looked at the computer screen and saw the handsome mug of a Caucasian male named Rick Keebler. He was forty-two, divorced, and worked as an electrical inspector. Could his job give him a reason to use a zip line? Leila wondered.
The other man was Lawrence Kobayashi, a thirty-eight-year-old Hawaiian, never married, who worked as an information systems analyst.
Murder on Kaanapali Beach Page 12
