Murder on Kaanapali Beach

by R. Barri Flowers

  "Why not?" Chung said. "Though not all the victims of the killer were students, if he was a student, he could easily move around the island and associate with young women without casting much suspicion."

  "True." Leila wrinkled her nose. "If our serial killer has decided to come out of hiding, he must have either been bored—or did so out of fear of being detected."

  "Either of which could give us the upper hand," suggested Chung.

  "Why don't we see if the killer left behind any other clues," Leila muttered. "while being careful not to taint any evidence before the CSI unit arrives."

  "Good idea." In fact, Chung believed it was a necessity for him to look around, especially in the bedroom, to make sure he didn't leave anything that could tie him to the victim.

  He headed to the bedroom before she could. Seeing the twin-sized bed, he remembered making the most of it with Shannon, who was nearly his match when it came to sex and pleasuring. Looking at items on the dresser, which included makeup, jewelry, perfume, and knickknacks, he spotted the card he had given her just before they said their goodbyes—in case Shannon ever wanted a repeat performance.

  Chung frowned. Now that was something neither of them would ever get the chance to experience, thanks to the killer snuffing out her life before she could even make it to twenty-two.

  He slipped the card into his pocket just as Leila walked in.

  "Find anything?" she asked routinely.

  Chung glanced again at the dresser. "Nothing unusual," he responded, and opened a couple of drawers for effect. "From the looks of it, I'd say her killer surprised her at the front door, attacked her before she could get away, then left without going anywhere else in the place." Even saying that, he realized the killer could have visited the victim previously, which may have cost Shannon her life.

  "Maybe." Leila gave the room the once over. "We'll check with the complex manager to see if there's video surveillance. If lucky, we might be able to see the killer leaving this building and pinpoint the time it occurred."

  "Yeah," he agreed thoughtfully, as they both headed out to greet the crime scene technicians arriving.

  * * *

  Leila recognized the victim right away. How could she not? She had been flirting with college instructor Glenn Diamont when they paid him a visit while investigating Joyce Yashiro's death. Leila could tell that Chung recognized her too. So why did he pretend she was a total stranger to him? Given his obvious attraction to her that day, is it possible he could have followed up by pursuing Shannon Nguyen? She wouldn't put it past him with his track record, at least according to other detectives.

  Was it possible he knew more about Shannon's death than he'd let on? Please don't be involved in this, Chung, Leila mused, hating to think that he could have accidentally killed the girl perhaps from rough sex, then panicked and tried to make it look like the work of the Zip Line Killer, as Verlin Yashiro had tried unsuccessfully to do.

  Admittedly, other than the fact that the victim's body was fully exposed in the front, there was no indication of rough sex, with the exception of the discoloration of her cheek, apparently from being hit.

  Leila decided it was best not to approach Chung with her concerns just yet. Or jump to the wrong conclusions without learning more about the victim and the circumstances of her death.

  She watched as Patricia Lee, the coroner's physician came in to supervise removal of the body and give her initial assessment of the cause of death.

  "Hey," she said glumly.

  "I know, it's just the type of thing to suck the life out of your day, no pun intended," Leila said.

  "It's certainly not very funny when someone who looks as young as this one winds up dead." Patricia adjusted her glasses as she dropped to one knee to examine the decedent. "Looks like this was personal to a certain extent." With gloves on, she turned the victim's face. "That bruise on her right cheek could only have come from a fist. She must have really pissed someone off."

  "How about a serial killer?" Leila asked, glancing at the zip line wrapped around the victim's neck.

  "The evidence is certainly there to draw that conclusion," Patricia said, "unlike your last case that turned out to be due to suffocation. Whoever killed this poor girl really did a number on her, as far as using that cord to perfection to get the intended job done. My preliminary belief, based on what I see, including blood seeping from her ears, is that she died from strangulation. There's no indication at this point that a rape occurred. Knowing you'd like a more definitive conclusion, I'll come in tomorrow to conduct the autopsy so you can see if your serial killer is back on the prowl."

  "Mahalo," Leila told her, and glanced over at Chung who was talking to the female crime scene photographer.

  "It's what I do," Patricia said. "It will be up to you and your unit to run with it."

  "We intend to. We might even gallop all the way to the finish line."

  Patricia smiled. "That would work."

  Leila thought about riding horses, which she'd done again in the afternoon after she and Maxwell made love. Then, before they could make further plans for the day, duty called. Unfortunately, that came with her territory and she hoped it was something he could respect if not support wholeheartedly.

  * * *

  The next day the official word came in from the coroner's physician. Shannon Nguyen's death was ruled a homicide, with the cause of death strangulation. A sexual assault of the victim was ruled out. Given the stark similarities in the M.O., type of zip line used, and the precise way in which it was left tangled around the victim's neck, as if to rub it in the faces of detectives at the victim's expense, the general opinion among detectives who had worked the case was that it was the work of the Zip Line Killer. There was also a feeling that the serial killer had taken this murder more personally than the previous ones in punching the victim in the face and murdering her when she was naked.

  Leila and Seymour, who were the first in the department to investigate this serial killer, went over the case with other members of the division, with Chung also having a vested interest as her new partner. It was agreed that, short of other homicides occurring, this one needed to be a priority, fearing the killer may be becoming brazen and desperate—placing more women at risk.

  Afterward, Seymour cornered Leila and asked: "Got a sec?"

  "Sure," she responded. "What's up?"

  "Let's go to my office," he said cryptically.

  "Uh, all right."

  Leila followed him, not believing for one moment that he would try to put the moves on her, as had been the case more than once during their brief relationship. She thought about the new man in her life. Though it was hard to compare one man to the next, it was inevitable. As far as she was concerned, things had turned out for the best. She was sure Seymour concurred.

  "Have a seat," he said in a serious tone.

  Leila's first thought was that Chung had been linked to Shannon Nguyen's murder, leaving her feeling weak.

  Instead, Seymour said: "I thought you should know that I've asked an FBI criminal profiler to drop in and lend a helping hand to give us some idea what the hell we're up against with this serial killer who appears to be living and hiding amongst us, sometimes in plain view."

  Leila had no problem with outside help, unlike Seymour once did himself before he became lieutenant of the unit. Obviously, he had a different perspective as the level of authority increased. "Sounds good to me," she said. "When is he or she arriving?"

  "It's a he. Name's Landon Herridge. He'll be flying in from Quantico tomorrow. I was hoping you could get together with him one-on-one and compare thoughts on the case as someone who probably knows it best—before he gives his profile of the killer to the homicide squad."

  If she didn't know better, which she did, Leila might think he was trying to set her up with Herridge. But since he likely wouldn't be on Maui for long and was probably happily married like Seymour presumably was these days, she wasn't interested in going down that road�
�not when she had Maxwell treating her like a Hawaiian queen.

  "I'd be happy to have lunch with him. Maybe he can give me some tips on what makes this killer tick."

  Seymour grinned. "From what I've heard about Herridge, he is nothing if not thorough, so I'm sure he can give you something to work with in trying to flush out the Zip Line Killer."

  "I look forward to it," she said, leaving at that.

  Back at her desk, Chung approached her. "So what did Seymour want?"

  Leila almost detected fear in his face. Or was that just her imagination? Did he have something to fear regarding the death of Shannon Nguyen?

  "To tell me that an FBI profiler is coming tomorrow," she replied nonchalantly.

  He shrugged. "Sounds like fun."

  Leila gazed at him, picking up the sarcasm in his tone. "Maybe he'll give us something useful that will help lead to the perp's arrest."

  "I'm all ears," Chung insisted.

  "So am I," she said, in case there was something he needed to get off his chest.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  On Monday morning, Renee sat at her computer staring at the picture of Shannon Nguyen on the screen. She was believed to be the latest strangulation victim of the so-called Zip Line Killer.

  A chill ripped through Renee in that moment. She recognized the woman as someone she had seen Franco with the same day she was murdered. And no matter how much Renee tried to convince herself she was mistaken, the journalist in her with a keen eye for memory and observation knew that she wasn't.

  Shannon Nguyen was dead and the police were looking for her killer.

  Could Franco actually be a serial killer?

  Renee thought about the various times he had acted strangely, sometimes even joking about death and violence. Was it some sort of Freudian admission of guilt by him as a killer, just waiting for her to uncover it?

  Have I been sleeping with the Zip Line Killer? she asked herself, terrified at the thought. If so, was it only a matter of time before she also became a victim like Shannon Nguyen?

  Renee nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a cold hand on her shoulder, followed by: "What are you doing?"

  Realizing it was Franco, already out of the shower, she quickly put the screen in sleep mode, hoping he hadn't connected the dots.

  "Nothing, really," she told him, forcing a strained smile.

  He was wearing nothing but a towel. "Were you reading about that woman who was murdered yesterday?"

  Renee's heart skipped a beat. Had she been caught? Would he need to eliminate her as a witness before and after the fact?

  She sucked in a deep breath. "Yeah," she said nonchalantly. "They're saying it looks like the work of the Zip Line Killer and I didn't want to bore you with that."

  He gave her a long look before breaking into a grin. "Mahalo for that. I'm sorry for the victim, but it does get to be a drag hearing about these murders and the ineptitude of the police. Especially when I'd rather focus on something more interesting..." He cupped her cheeks and brought their mouths together. "Like this—"

  Renee let him kiss her and felt his arousal. But she wasn't about to have sex with him for a second time that morning. The very notion that she may have been sleeping with a serial killer made Renee want to puke.

  But she didn't for fear of tipping her hand. She allowed the kiss to go on longer than she wanted before pulling back and standing.

  "We'll have to pick up where we left off later," she lied. "I have to go to work."

  Franco frowned. "Are you going to write about Shannon's murder?"

  Renee met his eyes. He had just basically admitted that he knew the victim. Was that the same thing as confessing to killing her?

  "Yeah, I think so," she told him routinely. "After all, it's a plausible connection to the Zip Line Killer murders that I've been working on, so..."

  He grinned. "I understand. I'll get dressed and be out of your hair. As you said, we can pick this up later."

  She made herself seemed interested. "I'd like that."

  The moment he left the room, Renee went back to the computer and got a good look at the attractive face of the woman Franco had walked out of a café with, apparently never to be seen alive again.

  As with some of his previous stayovers, Renee let Franco see himself out. She left the condo first, fearing that if he were to suspect anything, she would become his next victim.

  * * *

  Leila studied Landon Herridge as he sat across from her at the deli on Waiehu Beach Road in Wailuku. He was a tall, handsome man in his forties with wavy gray hair and blue-gray eyes. She wouldn't have pegged him to be an FBI profiler at a glance. But, then again, he would probably say the same thing about her being a homicide detective.

  Whether or not he could lend some helpful insight into the characteristics of their serial killer remained to be seen. But she was keeping an open mind, knowing that all avenues had to be explored until he was caught.

  "Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me," Herridge said, studying his menu.

  Leila shrugged. "I would meet with any FBI agent who came to our island on behalf of the police department."

  He grinned. "Fair enough. So do you have any recommendations? There are a lot of interesting choices on the menu."

  "You might want to try the pineapple mango chicken," she suggested, "along with grilled mixed vegetables. If you want dessert, the paradise strawberry shortcake is really tasty."

  "Done," he said.

  She laughed. "That was easy."

  "I usually am when it comes to food. But I can be a real hard-ass when it comes to assessing crime and criminals."

  "In that case, I'll be ready for whatever comes my way," she half-joked, before deciding on the hot pastrami on rye and garden salad for herself.

  After they were served, Herridge said: "So I've been studying your case of the so-called Zip Line Killer."

  "What did you come up with?" Leila asked curiously, sipping her tropical fruit smoothie.

  "Well, I see the killer as a nomadic sexual deviant who is driven to kill as a power hungry, self-centered, highly motivated individual who thinks he's always in control of the situation and able to keep the police at bay."

  Leila rolled her eyes. "How did you reach those conclusions?"

  "By being in the business of profiling thousands of criminals, mostly murderers, for more than a decade," he responded bluntly. "I looked over everything Lieutenant Seymour sent my way, and then some. Studying the victims told me a good deal about the likely perpetrator."

  Leila was stuck on the sexual deviant part and said: "None of the victims were sexually assaulted. So how do you label him as a sexual offender?"

  "Good question." He took a bite of the mixed vegetables. "Sexual deviants are not only those who rape or sodomize their victims, but those who murder them in order to receive sexual gratification. From the pattern of the murders, with the zip line left around the strangled women's throats, I see this as the mark of someone who wanted to be in complete control of the women till they took their dying breaths—giving him something akin to a killing orgasm."

  "Okay, if you say so," Leila said, biting into her sandwich. She wasn't sure if she concurred with his explanation. But since he was the expert, she was hardly in a position to challenge it. In this case, she was glad that the sexual sadist part was in the killer's mind and not inflicted upon the women in the form of a sexual assault, adding further indignity to their victimization.

  "I also believe that your killer clearly knows his way around the island, given the locations of the victims," Herridge told her. "He's probably a local, but could also be a visitor who is very familiar with Maui. He may have spent time on some of the other Hawaiian Islands too—where he may have also killed, but it has yet to be linked to him."

  That sounded plausible enough to Leila. She regarded the profiler. "So how do we catch this person who always seems to stay one step ahead of us?"

  Herridge met
her eyes. "Well, in many of these cases what you really need is to catch a break. Be it a useful tip, an eyewitness coming forward, or a mistake on the part of the killer." He sliced into his pineapple mango chicken. "Other than that, good old fashioned police work and tracking down every lead in every nook and cranny will usually produce positive results, sooner or later."

  It was the "sooner or later" part that concerned Leila. She didn't want another young woman to die at this sadist's hands. So catching him sooner would be much better for all parties concerned.

  She gazed at Herridge and said to him: "I'm sure the Homicide Unit will be interested in everything you have to say."

  He chuckled. "Well, probably not everything. I know there are always some skeptics when it comes to criminal profiling as a reliable mechanism for investigating crimes. But I'll take one convert at a time—"

  Leila couldn't help but smile, figuring he was referring to her. And she was convinced that he did seem to bring something to the table that would help them find out what made the Zip Line Killer tick, which might be just what they needed to bring him down.

  * * *

  Detective Chung was surprised when Renee asked to meet with him at the Kihei café on Alanui Kealii Drive. He suspected she would try to grill him for information regarding the Shannon Nguyen investigation. And he might give her a snippet or two just to keep her coming back. The truth was they were still in the initial stages of this investigation and pursuing a few leads as they tried to track down the serial killer believed to be responsible for her death.

  Chung tasted the espresso while thinking: I want the asshole who did this to Shannon. Even if theirs was just a one-night fling, it still burned him that she had her whole life ahead of her. Till someone decided to turn her into a victim, soon to be yesterday's news.

  He thought about the FBI profiler Landon Herridge's take on the Zip Line Killer—referring to him as a white male, twenty-five to thirty-five years of age who could easily blend in, a loner and sociable at the same time, from a dysfunctional family, and one who handpicked his victims as much for them fitting certain characteristics that appealed to him as the opportunity presenting itself.