Leila observed the woman she assumed was Naku's assistant. She was in her early forties with short red hair. "I'm looking for Eddie Naku. Is he in or—"
"You found him," she heard the familiar deep, smooth tone of his voice.
She turned and saw him standing in the door frame of an office. Like her, he was a Native Hawaiian, tall and good looking, with long dark hair, parted in the middle.
"Hey," she said awkwardly.
"Back at you." He introduced his assistant, Vanna, then said: "Leila's an old friend from my days on the force." Naku eyed her. "Let's go into my office..."
Leila followed him into the good sized office with a window overlooking the street.
"I wondered how long it would take till you finally showed up to check out my digs," he said.
She chuckled. "You know how it is—between work and everything else..."
"I understand." He gave her the once over and Leila found herself blushing. "I see you're still staying in tip top shape."
"I could say the same for you, Naku."
He grinned. "So what can I do for you? I assume this isn't a social call?"
"It isn't," Leila said. "I'd like to hire you..."
Naku cocked a thick brow. "Uh, okay. Have a seat."
Leila resisted the temptation. "Actually, I have to get back to work, but I wanted to see if you could do a background check on someone."
"Sure, it's what I do. Who?"
"His name is Maxwell Kishimoto," she said. "He owns a local restaurant and I'm thinking about dating him..."
He smiled. "I see. And you want me to find out if he's on the up and up?"
"Yes."
"I assume you already did a criminal background check on him?"
"I did," she replied. "He's clean."
"But you're still not satisfied that he's all he's cracked up to be? Or maybe he's hiding the fact that he's leading a double life? Or forgot to mention the wife and kids?"
"That's pretty much it," Leila admitted. "Guess I just want to err on the side of caution before I let my guard down again."
Naku clutched his chest as though he had been hit. "I hope none of that mistrust comes back to me?"
She smiled. "It doesn't. We were straight about things from the beginning."
"Yeah, I guess we were."
"So will you take the case?" she asked politely. "I can pay whatever your going rate is."
"Yes, I'll take it and there's no charge."
"I don't want any special favors."
"It's not," he insisted. "As I seem to recall, you saved my ass more than once when I was with the Maui PD. The way I see it, I owe you and I'm more than happy to repay my debt."
Leila wasn't sure he owed her anything, but said: "Fine." She took Maxwell's card out of her purse and handed it to him. "Here's his contact info."
Naku studied it. "Okay, this should be more than enough to check him out."
She smiled. "Mahalo."
"Anytime." He met her eyes. "So I've been keeping tabs on the PD and I know you've got a couple of hot button homicide cases going on—"
Not wanting to get into it, even with a former member of the force, Leila simply responded: "Never a dull moment, as I'm sure you remember all too well."
"Yeah, I do."
She sighed. "Well, I better go."
Naku grinned. "I'll let you know what I come up with."
"Okay."
"Aloha!" She saw herself out and immediately began having second thoughts about hiring a private eye to investigate a man she hadn't even gone out with. Was that overdoing it, or what?
She decided that peace of mind, even when dating someone these days, was a good thing. And why not find out in advance if Maxwell Kishimoto was worth her trouble.
If he was, then she would find out how he felt about dating a police detective.
CHAPTER TWENTY
"We've got a match on the DNA from the chewing gum we found in front of Parker Breslin's house," Gil Delfino announced excitedly to Detectives Lancaster and Ferguson in the crime lab.
"Is that so?" Ferguson asked, tempering his delight until he heard more.
"Yeah, CODIS finally came through," he said. "The DNA belongs to a man named Ray Hennesy. He's thirty-eight and has been in and out of trouble for most of his adult life, serving time for armed robbery and multiple weapons violations."
"Sounds like a real piece of work," commented Rachel. "And clearly not too bright if he left behind evidence that could nail him to the wall for the murder of Parker Breslin."
"Of course, it's also possible he was just passing by," warned Delfino, "and is guilty of nothing more than loitering when he decided to spit out his chewing gum."
"Yeah, right," Ferguson said, rolling his eyes. He conceded that the DNA alone wasn't enough to make Hennesy a cold-blooded killer. But the circumstances seemed to indicate much more than just an ex-con out for a stroll. "I think we need Ray Hennesy to explain it to us."
Delfino chuckled. "Good luck with that. Assuming he even stuck around on the island, my guess is he'll employ the old deny, deny, deny strategy."
"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Rachel said. "Remember we're talking about the same career criminal who tossed the gum in the first place. You think he's smart enough to dodge the bullet pointing right at him, figuratively speaking?"
"Good point," the forensic examiner said. "Hope he turns out to be your man."
"What about the marijuana cigarette someone dumped on the grass near the victim's home?" Ferguson thought to ask.
"Nothing there," Delfino said. "Sorry. I guess the person was too stoned to leave behind DNA."
"Funny," Ferguson said, but he wasn't laughing. They had to take what they were given and find this Ray Hennesy—and fast!
* * *
They picked up Ray Hennesy at his home on Ulele Street in Makawao, located Upcountry in East Maui. The unemployed construction worker was over six feet tall, solid in build, and had stringy blonde hair. He did not resist or make a run for it, which in Rachel's mind was the mark of a guilty man, in one respect or another.
Once they had him in the interrogation room, she wasted little time going after him, hoping a confession would come sooner than later. "Why don't we start with you telling me what you know about Parker Breslin?"
Handcuffed, Hennesy had a stern look on his face. His lips were bunched together and he played hardball, stating: "I don't know the man."
"Well, let me fill in some blanks for you. He was the co-owner of a landscaping company before he was gunned down right in front of his house." She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
He tensed. "Why should I?"
"Maybe because you're the one who took him out."
His lower lip quivered. "I didn't kill anyone."
"Your chewing gum says otherwise," Rachel said, fixing him with a firm stare.
"What—?"
Ferguson, who was standing, leaned down and said hotly: "You left behind gum, asshole, and it led us directly to you through something called DNA. So cut the crap. We know you were at Breslin's house that day and shot him to death before taking off like a coward."
Rachel understood that he was just bluffing, at least in part, knowing they needed Hennesy to confess to being there at the right time and doing the dirty deed in order to make it stand up.
As such, she followed up with: "So I advise you to cooperate and tell us why you murdered Breslin and left his seven-year-old daughter without a father."
"It wasn't me!" Hennesy insisted. "I had nothing to do with it."
There was something in his tone that made Rachel believe otherwise. She went with her gut feeling, along with the fact that he had a rap sheet and was prone to violence, and pressed him further. "I think you're lying to us, and I'm sure the prosecuting attorney will feel the same way. You've already got a few strikes against you. Unless you want to go down for a crime you claim you didn't commit, you better give us a
damn good reason to look elsewhere!"
"All right, all right," he said. "I didn't kill Breslin, but I was asked to do it..."
Okay, now we're getting somewhere, she thought, and asked: "By who?"
He paused. "Willa Takeyama."
She cocked a brow. "You mean Willa Breslin, Parker Breslin's ex-wife?"
"Yeah, whatever. I guess she went back to using her maiden name."
Interesting turn of events, mused Rachel.
Ferguson narrowed his eyes at Hennesy and asked tonelessly: "Are you telling us that Breslin's ex-wife asked you to murder him?"
"Yeah, that's what I'm telling you." Hennesy shifted in the chair. "We were dating for a minute there, when she offered to pay me $20,000 to take him out. Said he was standing in the way of her keeping their kid. She even told me where he'd be, at what time, and that she was supposed to deliver their kid to his house around same time—but would make sure she wasn't anywhere near the house."
Rachel considered that Willa had told them Breslin was scheduled to come to her house to pick up the daughter, rather than the other way around. Clearly, it was a lie to cover her ass while she gloated knowing that Parker Breslin would not be around to get full custody of their daughter Marie.
"So why didn't you do the job?" she asked.
Even with handcuffs on, he managed to wipe sweat from his brow. "I did a practice run the day before—going right up to his front door. But I realized I couldn't go through with it. So I left and I guess I spit the gum out without thinking."
"Lucky us," Rachel said sarcastically. "And lucky you, if you're telling the truth."
"I am," he maintained. "It wasn't me who killed him."
Ferguson kept the pressure on. "If not you, then who?"
"I have no idea, I swear. After that, me and Willa went our separate ways." He paused. "Come to think of it, I had a feeling she was two-timing me when we were hanging out, but she denied it."
"Did you ever see her with anyone else?" Rachel asked.
He stared at the question. "Yeah. One time I saw her talking to some dude in a BMW. Said he was just a friend who did business with her ex."
"What did he look like?" asked Ferguson.
He shrugged. "Hawaiian, forties. Never really got a good look at him."
Rachel glanced at her partner. That certainly gave them something to look into, unless Hennesy was trying to shift suspicion from himself by sending them off on a wild goose chase. In the absence of the murder weapon or other proof that he was the one who pulled the trigger, they had no choice but to give him the benefit of the doubt.
"Would you be willing to do your civic duty and testify in court that Willa Takeyama attempted to hire you to murder Parker Breslin?" Rachel asked.
He didn't hesitate, as if trying to gain a favor for future misconduct. "Yeah, I'll do it."
Rachel nodded. That was about all they could ask from him for the time being.
* * *
Detective Troy Mancuso considered it grunt work as he followed Willa Breslin around like a puppy dog, waiting to see who she talked to and where. As far as he was concerned, she was only leading him around in circles, though he had been very careful to keep from being made. He would much rather be doing some real detective work. That's what he dreamt of when he got his Master's in criminology. But he was a realist. They weren't going to hand him anything, degree or not. He had to pay his dues just like everyone else trying to make the grade.
His thoughts turned to his wife. They were expecting their first child in three months after working at for two years. They didn't know if it was a boy or girl, as they wanted to be surprised. Either one would work for him, though he leaned slightly toward having a boy to carry on his name and rough and tumble with.
Mancuso had watched Willa with her daughter. She seemed to be a loving mother who spoiled the girl rotten. Somehow it didn't square with a woman under suspicion of having something to do with the murder of her ex-husband. But he knew people did strange things when it came to love, hate, child custody and what not.
He followed Willa's Honda to Kapalua, a resort community on Maui's northwest coast. She parked at a condominium complex on Coconut Grove Lane. He watched as she headed toward a silver BMW. A man got out and the two kissed before heading toward a unit, oblivious to his presence.
Homicide isn't going to believe this, Mancuso thought. He recognized the man. How could he not? He had seen him enough being interrogated and in the news. After all, his wife was the subject of a murder investigation and he was still considered a suspect on some level in her death.
Verlin Yashiro.
Now he was involved with Willa Breslin, a suspect in the murder of her ex-husband. What were the odds?
Apparently, pretty good from where he was sitting. That was good enough for Mancuso as he headed back to his vehicle, ready to phone in this important development.
* * *
Ferguson lay in bed beside his girlfriend Gina, thoroughly exhausted after having sex every which way and then some. It helped take his mind off the demands of dealing with homicides day in and out, as well as the thought that his wife had left him for another man, notwithstanding the fact that the marriage had died well before that. For better or worse, Gina was good for him and he was good for her.
He had no idea what the future held for them. But, for now, he enjoyed her company in and out of bed, though especially the former, where she'd taught him a few things from her former profession that brought him to new heights of sexual satisfaction.
She cozied up to him and cooed: "Can I tell you a secret?"
"Sure," he said, wondering what it might be. Maybe she had a secret lover. He hoped not, as he wanted her all for himself.
"I have a kid."
"Really?" He looked down at her face. Somehow he never pictured her as a mother. Maybe he should have.
"Yes. A girl. She's nine now."
"Where is she?"
"I gave her up for adoption." He detected the pain in her voice. "I got pregnant when I was still in the business. The father, a client and judge, was married with three adult children. I knew he would never claim a child from a whore, and I didn't want to raise her in that environment, so I did what I felt was best for her—gave her up so she could have a normal life."
"Do you regret it?" Ferguson asked.
"Part of me does, of course," Gina said sadly. "She's my flesh and blood. But I know it was the right thing to do."
"I agree, under the circumstances," he muttered, assuming that was what she wanted to hear.
She paused. "I know where she is..."
He cocked a brow. "You do?"
"Yes, I hired a private eye a few years ago to track her down. Her name is Akela and she lives on Maui..."
Ferguson shifted his body. "Have you seen her?"
"Yes, every now and then." Gina licked her lips. "And guess what? You know the man who adopted her with his wife—"
"I do?" He met her eyes curiously. "Who is it?"
"Blake Seymour. I think he's your lieutenant..."
Ferguson's head snapped back in disbelief. He had met Akela at a picnic at Seymour's house. He was surprised he hadn't put two and two together, knowing Blake and his wife Mele had adopted the child after being unable to have children of their own.
Still, it threw Ferguson for a loop. What were the odds that Seymour's kid was Gina's? And vice versa?
"Say something—" Gina said.
"What do want me to say?"
"Anything."
"Okay." He considered his words carefully. "What do you plan to do? Do you want to be part of her life? What?"
"I don't want to do anything to disrupt her life," she told him. "I know Akela is in a good place with people who love her. I just like to see what she's up to from afar, how she's growing up. I hope someday she'll try to find me so I can explain why I gave her up, and then maybe she'll forgive me."
"Maybe that can happen someday and she'll understand," Ferguson said. He breat
hed a sigh of relief that she wasn't planning to cause trouble right now for Seymour and his wife. Especially since it would impact me too, he thought, trying to imagine what Seymour would think if he knew his daughter's mother used to be a prostitute and was now living with a homicide detective under his command. All told, the best Gina could do was keep this information to herself. At least until the day came when Akela took it upon herself to try to find her birth mother.
"Does learning this upset you?" Gina asked.
"No," he responded nicely. "I'm glad you told me."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, it makes me feel closer to you when everything is out in the open."
She smiled. "Same here."
He found himself getting aroused again. Somehow knowing something about Seymour that he didn't even know himself gave Ferguson a sense of power, even if he never planned to exploit it. But he could never predict the future. Or be responsible for the past.
Leaning his face toward hers, he kissed Gina on the mouth. She reciprocated in kind and they made love again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
"Aloha kakahiaka, Makuakane," Akela Seymour said to her father.
"Good morning to you," Seymour said. He smiled as his nine-year-old daughter ran up to him in their contemporary house in Kahului. She spoke Hawaiian nearly as fluently as she did English, which pleased him in maintaining that part of her heritage. He wished he could say that she looked like her mother, but since he didn't know what her birth mother looked like, that wasn't the case. All he knew was that the Native Hawaiian child he and his wife Mele had adopted when she was not even a month old had blossomed into a beautiful little girl, with long black hair and big bold brown eyes. He couldn't imagine not having her in his life.
"You ready for school?" he asked her.
"Of course." She beamed. "I'm always ready for school."
He laughed. "Glad to hear that. Let's hope you keep that attitude all the way through college."
She giggled. "I'll try."
Mele came out of the kitchen with Akela's lunch. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. "We better go before you're late," she told their daughter.
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