"I've already begun looking into that," Natalie responded knowingly.
Leila nodded, impressed. "Good."
Natalie added: "Since the killer chose this spot to dump the body, I'm guessing that he or she lives around here—or at least is familiar with the area."
"Makes sense." Leila decided that the killer was most likely a he, given that the victim appeared to have been carried rather than dragged to the spot where she was found. She gazed around, wondering if the killer could even be watching them right now, hidden from view, but enjoying the thrill of discovery. "It's also quite possible," she advanced speculatively, "that the killer picked this place to leave the body as an omen of things to come."
The thought was unnerving to Leila.
Chapter Two
The Maui County Police Department was based in Wailuku. The census-designated place was Maui County's county seat and was at the base of the West Maui Mountains. The Chief of Police and Deputy Chief of Police spearheaded the department and its efforts to maintain law and order on the island, with the Investigation Services Bureau carrying a great deal of the load. Within it was the Criminal Investigations Division that included the Homicide Unit, headed by Lieutenant Blake Seymour.
Leila gazed at her boss—her onetime partner and former lover—as he headed toward her desk. Over six feet tall on a solid frame, he had short salt and pepper hair and deep blue eyes. She thought he was handsome, but not as good looking as Maxwell. She suspected his wife would probably disagree.
"Hey," he said casually.
"Hey." She glanced over at Chung, who was talking on the phone at his desk, and back to Seymour.
"Where are you on the dead woman?"
"Her name is Yoshie Akiyama," Leila told him. "We're about to head over to her residence to see what we can learn about her life. Hopefully, we'll come away with some possible suspects in her death."
Seymour twisted his lips. "Chung mentioned that she was a hula dancer."
"Looks like it. I believe someone targeted her and made good on it, stabbing her to death after she finished dancing somewhere."
"Like an angry spouse or boyfriend?" he asked.
Leila shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe an obsessed fan. Who knows?"
"Not the best way to start the week," Seymour muttered.
"Yeah, tell me about it."
"I know. You were supposed to have the day off."
"I'll just have to reschedule it for another day," she told him, knowing that being on call practically 24/7 came with the territory—or whenever murder came calling.
His head tilted thoughtfully. "I hope Maxwell is okay with that."
Leila wondered if he really meant that as thoughts of their past affair flashed briefly through her mind. "He's fine with it," she said, knowing Maxwell had never complained about her erratic schedule, even if he had every right to. "Besides, I'll do my best to make it up to him," she added, as if to remove any doubt that her current relationship was solid.
"I'm sure you will." Seymour grinned thinly. "Well, keep me posted on the hula dancer case."
She managed a smile. "Count on it."
After he walked away, Chung approached her. "Is Seymour already applying pressure for us to solve this one?"
Leila looked up at him. "Isn't he always?"
"I think being a lieutenant has gone to his head," Chung spat.
"And his heart, too," she said, defending him. She truly believed that he was fully vested in the job and wanted to do his best to represent the department and assist the detectives in solving crimes.
"Whatever," Chung said dismissively. "Anyway, the autopsy report probably won't be ready till tomorrow, according to the coroner herself. Not that we need it to know the victim was stabbed to death by some asshole."
"Right, but the report will help fill in some important blanks," Leila pointed out, as if he didn't already know this. Still, it was painfully clear that the hula dancer was violently attacked by someone wielding a sharp knife. The question was whether or not this was an isolated incident or if it could become a frightening pattern if the killer wasn't apprehended soon. "Let's roll," she told her partner.
* * *
Renee Bradley wouldn't exactly say that being a reporter was in her blood. Never mind the fact that her father was a war correspondent. Or even that she had majored in journalism when she received her degree from the University of Hawaii at Manoa eight years ago. No, what really seemed to inspire her was reporting on crime stories in paradise. It was as if this was her calling to present the dark and sometimes deadly underbelly of what, on the surface, was a dreamlike place with plenty of palm trees, pristine white beaches, gorgeous tanned bodies, and a laid-back escape from big city life.
Unfortunately, the truth was it wasn't always paradise. At least this was true on Maui, where she had lived for the past five years. As a journalist for the Aloha News, Crime Beat, it was her job to flush out the stories that scared the hell out of people—often for good reason.
Murder was no holiday and when it reared its ugly head, she needed to be there to inform and keep the police honest in what they dispensed to the public. Having informants on the inside and in other relevant quarters on Maui went a long way in keeping her in the loop.
Such was the case when she got a call from morgue worker Tabitha Cusack, a friend who she liked to have tequila shots with when they got together.
"Thought you'd like a head's up on a stiff that just came in," Tabitha said.
"I'm listening," Renee said from her desk, flipping her long blonde hair to one side.
"Hawaiian female, late twenties. Someone cut her up really bad."
"That's terrible." Renee recoiled at the thought. "Got a name?"
"Nope. They're keeping that under wraps pending notification of next of kin."
It was worth a try, Renee thought. What else could she learn about the victim that might spark public interest? "Where was she found?"
"Some field in Kihei."
"Who found her?" Sometimes there could be a story there, Renee knew.
"A guy walking his dog."
Bo-ring, she thought. "Give me something juicy."
"Well, there is one thing..." Tabitha said, keeping her in suspense. "I did overhear one of the detectives who showed up say that the victim was a hula dancer."
Renee reacted. "Seriously?"
"Yeah, I guess."
That was certainly a twist that would likely capture the fancy of her audience in a morbid way. Who wouldn't want to hear all about a hula girl being stabbed to death by...anyone? She pondered the notion and told her friend: "Mahalo!"
* * *
The address they had for Yoshie Akiyama was a small, single story home on Kapela Place in Kahului. Located in Central Maui between Haleakala and the mountains of West Maui, it was home to the Kahului Airport, Kahului Harbor, and a wildlife sanctuary, and not too far from the 'Iao Valley State Park. There was a brown Mitsubishi Mirage parked in the driveway near a couple of large palm trees.
Notifying the next of kin was always one of the hardest parts of the job for Leila. But it was something that had to be done in person out of respect to the dead and the living.
Chung knocked on the door. After a moment or two, it opened and a twentysomething, slender, dark-haired woman of mixed descent stood there. "Can I help you?"
"I'm Detective Kahana and this is Detective Chung," Leila said. "And you are—?"
"Chieko Ohata."
"Do you mind if we come in, Chieko?"
"Is this about Yoshie...?"
"Yes," Leila admitted. "Are you related?"
"I'm her housemate." Chieko looked concerned, but allowed them through the door. Once inside, she asked bluntly: "Did something happen to her—?"
Leila glanced at Chung before saying: "I'm afraid Ms. Akiyama is dead."
Chieko's eyes widened. "What—? How?"
"She was murdered sometime last night," Chung told her.
Chieko sucked in a deep breath and
looked like she was going to collapse with grief. Chung stood ready to catch her.
Leila understood the utter disbelief of the moment, but still had to see this through, as she took a sweeping look at the contemporary furnishings in the room before turning to the housemate. "We need to notify her next of kin."
Chieko nodded. "Her mother, Hifumi Akiyama, lives on the Big Island."
Leila gulped. Her mother lived there too. She could only imagine if someone were to deliver such devastating news to her. "Where did Yoshie work?"
Chieko wiped away tears with the back of her hand. "She worked for the Aloha Hula Dance Company as a dancer."
"Was she on a job last night?" Leila asked, though the victim's discarded costume spoke for itself.
"Yes, but I don't know where. She worked at lots of places and for different clients all over the island."
Leila sighed, knowing that meant there were a lot of potential suspects. "Did Yoshie have a car?"
Chieko nodded. "Yes, a Subaru Crosstrek."
Leila took note of that, wanting to locate the vehicle for any evidence it might yield.
"Did Ms. Akiyama have any enemies that you know of?" Chung asked.
Chieko paused. "Her ex-boyfriend, Paul Hailey. He was abusive and a drug user. Yoshie was scared to death of him and even took out a restraining order against him. He wasn't very happy about it."
Leila knew that an embittered ex was quite capable of committing cold-blooded murder, especially if they were under the influence of drugs. Had this one delivered the ultimate payback? "Where can we find him?"
Chieko told them and said solemnly: "I just can't believe Yoshie is dead."
"I'm very sorry for your loss," Leila told her, before saying: "We'll need you to identify the body."
Chieko agreed and Leila felt they had made progress, even if it came at a high price for one woman with the killer still at large.
* * *
Jonny Chung was behind the wheel as they headed toward the condominium owned by Paul Hailey. He wondered if this asshole druggie who abused his girlfriend went one step further in slicing her up fatally. If so, he would get what was coming to him. In the pen, they didn't take too kindly to men who beat up women.
Chung's thoughts turned to the waitress he was bedding off and on these days. She was hot and hot tempered. But he would never lay a finger on her, except when she wanted his fingers all over her, which was often. He had no idea where things were headed between them and didn't even want to hazard a guess. For him, it was the here and now that counted and he knew how to make the most of it—personally and professionally.
He mused about his days when he was with the vice division. Admittedly, he missed the good old days when they got knee deep in narcotics, gambling, and prostitution cases—solving most of them and putting the criminals away. But they were usually quickly replaced by others who wanted to keep the illegal operations going.
That turned out to work in his favor, as he pocketed some money on the side to look the other way, or even the same way if it served his purposes. He continued to get his share to this day, figuring it was only fair to help build up his retirement fund, since his pay as a cop wasn't nearly enough to count on to maintain his current lifestyle or his future once he turned in his badge and gun for good.
Chung glanced over at Leila, who was caught up in her own thoughts. Unlike her, he didn't have a rich lover to make his life easy, should he choose to walk away from police work. It was up to him to do whatever was needed to keep the fires burning so they didn't get snuffed out along the way.
"So do you think we're looking at an intimate homicide borne out of domestic violence and revenge?" Leila asked him.
"That's as good a place as any to start," Chung responded, aware that many homicides were perpetrated by intimates or family members, as opposed to strangers. "We'll see what Hailey has to say about it."
"Yeah, I can hardly wait," she said dryly. "That said, I can't help but think the hula dancing somehow figured into Yoshie's death, considering the killer removed her costume almost as if it was a hindrance to murder. It's also possible the killer was lying in wait for her."
"Which could point directly at Hailey as our culprit," argued Chung. "Think about it. He could have resented her working the booty, breasts, and other body parts to make other men hot and bothered, and decided enough was enough. It's the old, 'if I can't have her, nobody can' crap."
Leila sighed. "That wouldn't surprise me. But, then again, nothing surprises me in this business. You never know where a murder will lead."
"Yeah, I can't argue with you there." Chung might have done so anyway, if only for effect, had he not reached his destination.
The building was on Honoapiilani Road in Napili, an area on the northwest side of Maui. They knocked on the door of Unit 374.
There was no answer.
Chung knocked again, only harder, hurting his knuckles. Still nothing.
"Doesn't look like he's home," Leila muttered with disappointment.
Chung was not happy about it either. He considered that maybe Hailey was in there and, knowing they would figure it out soon enough, had taken his own life. But murder-suicides usually took place together. Maybe not this time.
"Think he's on the run?" Chung asked.
"It's possible. If so, he won't get very far," she said confidently, "assuming he didn't leave the island this morning."
Chung took out his card and jotted a note on the back stating that Hailey needed to get in touch with them as soon as he received it. This, of course, was in the event that he simply wasn't home and had nothing to hide.
Someone had a very good reason to hide, Chung thought, making that person a real danger on the island till they were apprehended. He slid the card under the door and hoped, for his sake, that Hailey responded accordingly.
* * *
Read the entire Murder of the Hula Dancers, available in print, eBook, and audio.
# # #
Following is a bonus excerpt from the second book in this exciting series by R. Barri Flowers
DEAD IN KIHEI: An Eddie Naku Maui Mystery
Prologue
Madison Crawford had gotten into a comfortable routine of jogging every afternoon during her vacation on Maui, Hawaii. In fact, aside from swimming in the ocean, which she did every morning, she couldn't think of a better way to stay fit and, at the same time, enjoy the beauty of her surroundings. She was staying in Kihei on the southwest shore of Maui. It was a nice oceanfront condo with an amazing view of the beach, swaying palm trees, Molokini islet, and the island of Kahoolawe. Having been there for almost a week, she hated the thought of having to go back to Phoenix in a few days and the stresses of life as an intensive care unit registered nurse. She loved her job, but living in the desert was not nearly as fun as being in Hawaii.
Especially coming off a breakup with the man she thought she was in love with. That was, until she found him in bed with another woman, destroying everything she thought they had. She couldn't get away from him—and her—soon enough. Maui was a perfect getaway, if not the permanent answer to her problems. She knew she had to go back to face them head on—and him—so she could move on and see what else was in store for her.
Madison dodged some other people as she ran down the sidewalk on Kaiolohia Street in a sports bra, shorts, and running shoes. She smiled at a cute man who was running in the opposite direction. He smiled back and said routinely, "Aloha."
"Aloha," she returned, and continued running. She didn't look back, but sensed he was checking her out from behind. She had no problem with that, knowing she was in great shape.
Maybe we'll run into each other at a club before I leave, she thought. If not, oh well...
Madison wiped perspiration from her brow with the back of her hand. She was looking forward to a nice cold drink and a soothing shower when she got back to her room.
After turning onto North Kihei Road, she started to plot her strategy for the remainder of the day
. Suddenly Madison's heart skipped a beat as she watched in horror as a person jumped or was pushed off the lanai of an upper story condo and fell all the way down to the ground. She screamed and raced toward what looked to be an adult Asian or Hawaiian male in his late fifties or early sixties. His body lay there splayed awkwardly, blood spilling from his head and legs.
He was unconscious and showed no sign of life. She checked for a pulse anyway. Nothing. She could smell alcohol on him.
With all her skills as a nurse, Madison knew there was nothing she could do to help him. That made it all the more frustrating. It was a terrible way to die. She looked up at the lanai he fell from. There was no one looking down, as if to observe his or her handiwork.
She could only assume that he had taken his own life. But, then again, she had no idea what transpired up there causing him to end up down here.
She said a little prayer and then took out her cell phone to call 911.
Chapter One
Slapping a hand against his muscular arm, private investigator Eddie Naku pinned the pesky mosquito that he would swear had followed him from the Lahaina Harbor in West Maui to the Lahaina Gateway complex at the intersection of Honoapiilani Highway and Keawe Street. Lahaina itself was the onetime capital of the Kingdom of Hawaii and big in the international whaling industry. Now it was one of Maui County's main areas for business, residences, and tourism. Removing his hand, Naku eyed the flattened insect that had gone to town on him with at least two bites, before plucking it off satisfyingly. He had just wrapped up a case for a client that involved a jewel thief who had literally stolen a boatload of diamonds before his thieving days came to an end.
Naku walked past several stores in the complex. He was wearing a polo shirt, a pair of well-worn jeans, and black lace up boots. He was just three months shy of his thirty-seventh birthday and in the best shape of his life. He relied on regular workouts and riding horses to keep his sturdy six-foot-three frame fit. As a Native Hawaiian, third generation, Naku always strove to uphold the family tradition of being true to who he was and respecting the environment his forefathers had worked so hard to preserve. That meant not dishonoring them by his actions or disregarding those who wanted to destroy the land or otherwise result in his people turning back the hands of time and the progress they had made over the years.
The Phone Call (A Psychological Mystery Short) Page 3
