by Toby Neal
“I’ve submitted the blood samples to DNA processing already, but as you know, those go to O`ahu and take a week or more,” Nunez said.
“To that end, I’ve been on the phone with O`ahu,” Omura said. “Talking to the folks from Dream Vacations Luxury Yachts and trying to find out more about the Peterson family, and who to notify that they are missing. I got the number of a next of kin, and their lawyer.” She slid a folded note over to Lei. “You and Pono need to contact them, find out all you can about the family. Do a background on them. We need to figure out if this crime was opportunistic, or targeted toward the Petersons.”
Thomas nodded. “We’re trying to ascertain the same thing. Chaz Kaihale has motive—he’s upside down on a mortgage, and has big debt . . .”
“My cuz would never do something like this,” Pono rumbled.
“Pono. We get it that this is your cousin, but we have to follow the evidence. If you can’t do that, can’t be objective, you need to be pulled from the case. Now,” Omura said.
Pono shook his head, speaking carefully. “My cousin has had some troubles. He was broke and going through a rough divorce. But he has no history of violence, or crime of any kind, for that matter.” Pono rubbed the bullet scar on his arm. “He called me when the attack happened. Told me they were being boarded by pirates. I thought he was pranking me, because it was April first.”
Thomas frowned. “You told me that when we were on our way to the wreck. I told you then, and I stick by it, that these kinds of crimes are usually inside jobs initiated by a crew. Granted, those are not usually perpetrated by stable, longer-term employees like your cousin and the two who were on this boat, but insiders nonetheless . . . See, pirates don’t really operate in Hawaii.”
“Say more on that subject,” Omura commanded.
“There are eight main Hawaiian islands. All of them are relatively close together, except for Kaua`i. We have a strong Coast Guard presence on every island, and a whole fleet keeping the waters safe. Where can anyone hide that we can’t find them? Another reason we don’t have pirates is that the Hawaiian Islands are so isolated—they’re thousands of miles from any landmass in any direction. Pirates have to travel all that way, either by boat or plane, to get here . . . and once they do, we control the harbors and airports.” Thomas sipped from his own mug, and grimaced, clearly disliking the departmental coffee. “Pirate problems tend to occur where there’s little water law enforcement, and a lot of places to hide along the coast. Hawaii has some remote areas, but we can spot craft by air with choppers, or by sea with our fleet. Again, where can they go?” Thomas’s jaw bunched, as did his fist. “If this was pirates . . . we’ll nail them quickly.”
Lei cleared her throat. “I understand what you’re saying, but I’m inclined to believe that someone unknown attacked the yacht. I’ve known Chaz for years, have even been on a charter with him and the family. He takes safety seriously and really owns that ‘captain’ role. Maybe it wasn’t pirates, but the disarray inside the craft was consistent with some kind of an attack.”
“I wish we had the yacht to go over for evidence,” Nunez said. “It would tell us a lot.”
“And maybe that’s why the perps sank it,” Pono said. “They meant for it to end up at the bottom of the sea, and for everyone to be gone. Without a body or a crime scene, who’s to say what happened to the family at all?” He rubbed his mustache vigorously in agitation. “And my cuz . . . he’s a handy one to blame.”
“Here are the questions we need to resolve right away: was the wreck of the Sea Cloud an opportunistic, one-time attack on a rich-looking target by raiders from Lana`i or elsewhere? Or, is it a targeted attack on the Peterson family for some reason or reasons unknown? Or . . . is it a pirate raid, part of some larger pattern?” Omura pointed at Thomas. “You explained why pirates are uncommon in Hawaii. Have there been any other attacks similar to this on the other islands?”
“No. I’d have told you if there were,” Thomas said.
Omura pointed to Lei. “I think we need to transition into who’s doing what at this point. Let’s make sure the Coast Guard and our team have clear roles, so no one duplicates anything. Miller, I want you to canvass and keep searching on Lana`i. Check for anyone who knows anything, any sign of where the attackers could have come ashore, any sign of the victims. Lei and Pono, I want you to dig into the family and the crew. Find out anything and everything you can about them. And Petty Officer Thomas?” She cocked her head to one side like an inquisitive bird. “You guys take care of everything to do with the boat and the ocean.”
“Yes ma’am,” Thomas said. “Already on that.”
“Call me ‘sir’,” Omura said. “Get to it, everyone.”
“Yes, sir,” everyone said, and they got to it.
Chapter Eight
Lei settled into the familiar modular cubicle that she shared with Pono in Kahului Station’s main work area, while he went on the hunt for fresh coffee.
She booted up her aging computer. This process was always a pause in her workday, filled with clicking and wheezing, and suspense of whether or not today was the day the poor old thing would kick it.
Waiting, Lei scanned the area around her desk for anything needing clearing, her gaze falling on the small corkboard pinned to the sound-insulated, movable wall. She’d pinned photos of her growing family and their dogs to it, through the years.
Hard to believe how much had happened since, as an early-twenties young recruit, she’d left Aunty Rosario’s little house on D Street in San Rafael, California, with Keiki as a young dog recently washed out of K-9 training, and had moved to the Big Island. Her first job as a patrol officer had been with South Hilo Station, and there she’d met her longtime partner Pono and fallen in love with Michael Stevens. After several career and interisland moves, all three of them had ended up on Maui. Lei had finally found her niche, doing the work she was best suited for: homicide investigation.
Her mouth tightened as her gaze dropped to the crisp new manila case jacket holding the documents generated by the Sea Cloud case. The file was already thickening with paperwork and printouts, most recently a faxed set of copies of Chaz’s fingerprints and those of the other crew members. Only the Peterson girls’ fingerprints were on file, submitted voluntarily by their parents to a Child Find database in case any of their children were ever lost.
How awful that those diligent parents were now missing, along with all three daughters, and those fingerprints were actually needed.
What had happened to that family and the Sea Cloud’s crew?
With all eight people still missing for more than twenty-four hours, it seemed more and more likely that they were feeding the sharks.
What powerful motive could have prompted such a heinous crime? It had to be something personal, maybe some financial or other motive in the Petersons’ lives . . . Or it was opportunistic pirates. Whatever it had been, she’d work her ass off to get to the bottom of it, if her damn computer would just cooperate.
“Freakin’ thing.” Lei whacked the side of the monitor. The device rewarded her by displaying random wavy lines. “I don’t have time for this crap.”
Even if she did get the computer working, she wasn’t going to be able to find out much online with the antiquated software they were running—and this case was big! She needed answers from the mainland, from another island, and much more than basic background information, plus she needed it fast . . . they should probably involve the FBI, but the captain hadn’t authorized that yet, which meant she couldn’t yet bring in her agent friend Marcella Scott. Lei still functioned as the FBI’s Maui contact, and having access to their superior resources had been a boon on many a case.
But her ex-FBI, tech sleuth friend Sophie would be able to get those answers. Sophie now worked for a private security firm, but still had the best skills and programs of anyone, anywhere.
Pono returned with their refilled mugs. “I made a fresh pot. It shouldn’t be too bad this time.” He
set her mug down at her elbow. “I’d like to go interview my cousin’s ex, Cheryl Ortega, and find out what had been going on between them. Find out what was up with Chaz’s finances. I want to clear his name. Make sure we find another suspect.”
Lei picked up her mug and stirred the swizzle stick, blending in the powdered creamer. She took a sip. “Mmm. This is much better, Pono.” She set down the coffee. “I get your agenda. You and I both know Chaz didn’t do it—kill a family of five, plus crew? I can’t see it, no matter what the provocation. I’m not going to stand in your way on your plan, but you heard the Captain—we need to dig into the Peterson family.” She frowned, worry tightening her brows. “The more time that goes by and none of the missing persons are found, the more likely we’re working on the homicide of eight people.”
“I can’t even think about that.” Pono dropped into his chair, hunching forward, shutting his eyes and massaging his temples. She’d never seen him this upset on the job—but then, nothing they’d worked on had hit so close to home. “I love Chaz like a brother. He can’t be gone.”
“Maybe he’s not. Maybe . . . they’re being held prisoner for some reason.” Lei couldn’t find words to comfort Pono when the outlook was this grim. She patted his shoulder. “Let’s just keep working. That’s what you can do to help Chaz. I’m sure his ex-wife has heard the news on the ‘coconut wireless’—even if she hated him, she has to be upset by the gossip. You go your way on this. I’ll go mine and focus on the Petersons. Call or text me in between, and we’ll reconnect when we can.”
Pono stood up. “I’ll go drop in on Cheryl, then. I want to catch her by surprise, if possible.” He shrugged into his weapon harness and slid on the thin parka he wore over it. “I’ll keep you posted. And you stay out of trouble, Sweets.” He pointed a thick finger at her as if cocking a pistol. “I couldn’t handle it if something happened to my sistah, too.”
“No pilikia,” Lei agreed. “Got you covered, partner.”
Pono gave a little salute and left, abandoning his coffee.
Lei sighed and turned back to the monitor. The wavy lines had resolved, but staring at her MPD logo and login, her jaw tightened with frustration. She pulled up the case file online, put in her earbuds, and took out her phone.
“Lei! I never hear from you these days!” Sophie’s Brit-accented voice was upbeat, and she sounded right next door, not a hundred miles away on another island. “What’s new?”
“All good in the hood, girlfriend,” Lei said. “Other than Rosie cutting a major tooth and giving everyone hell, it’s domestic bliss over here. You?”
“Ah, well, not so blissful—but I’m carrying on.” Sophie’s volatile love life was a source of both worry and teasing from both Lei and Marcella, as she continued to have trouble settling down with just one of the men pursuing her. “Things are lively at home. But enough of the small talk . . . I know better than to imagine that Sergeant Leilani Texeira is just calling me in the middle of the workday to socialize. What do you need?”
“Am I so predictable?” Lei smiled.
“Yes, but I love you anyway. Cough it up.”
“Like a hairball?” Lei laughed. Sophie had become so much better at English, relaxed, and open in her communication than she’d been when the women first worked together in the FBI. Back then, Sophie had been intimidatingly hard to know, reserved, prickly, and usually hidden in her computer lab. “You’re right. It’s a case—a big one.” Lei quickly outlined the situation. “I need all you can find out on the Peterson family, their company, Enviro Enterprises dot-com, and also Dream Vacations Luxury Yachts, the company operating the Sea Cloud.”
Sophie chuckled. “You know I’m private security now, and charge by the hour . . . right? I’m pretty sure you can’t afford me.”
Lei set aside the banter, her voice going serious. “I know, Sophie. I’d never tap on you with pro bono police business if it weren’t serious. Pono’s cousin Chaz, who was captaining the yacht, is being considered as a suspect. A family of five with three teenaged girls has disappeared. Eight people, gone, with a heavy blood pool and signs of violence on board before the yacht went down.” She swallowed. “I don’t hit you up often, but I need whatever leads I can follow, like . . . yesterday.”
“I remember Chaz. I met him at that baby luau for Rosie’s first birthday.” Sophie, too, had sobered. “I will get on this right away.”
“I owe you,” Lei said. “Anything you need—just say the word.”
She heard the smile in Sophie’s voice. “I can probably get anything I need. But not a friend like you, Lei. I’ll ping you back as soon as I know anything.”
Lei hung up the phone, and dug the slip of paper the Captain had given her out of her pocket. “Eeny, meeny, miney, mo . . . which to call first, the next of kin or the lawyer?”
Chapter Nine
Stevens had barely greeted Mahoe and their officemate, recruiter Kathy Fraser, when his phone buzzed with an incoming call from Iris at Dispatch. “We’ve got a body. The vic washed up on the rocks in Lahaina. Captain wants you and Brandon on this one. According to the first responders, there’s a visible stab wound on the corpse.”
“We’re on it.” Stevens gestured to Mahoe and tugged his windbreaker back off the hall tree he’d just hung it on. “What’s the exact location?”
“Body’s hung up on the rocks at the entrance to Lahaina Harbor, near the ferry dock. Responding officers have taped off the area, but there’s time pressure as the boats using the harbor have schedules to keep.” Iris’s keyboard sounded busy.
“I take it you’ve called Dr. Gregory already if there’s a time crunch for removing the body?” Stevens headed toward the door, lifting a hand in goodbye to Kathy. The blue-eyed brunette waved back, smiling. The diamond ring Stevens’s brother Jared had put on her finger flashed in the low light coming through the blinds. That was an excellent recent development—past time Jared married a good woman, and Kathy was great. “Get ahold of the Coast Guard, too, Iris. We’ll want their help in managing the harbor, and in case this body has something to do with the Sea Cloud case that Lei is on.” Stevens made for the elevator and Mahoe trotted to catch up.
“I’ll call him right away.” Iris was still typing.
“Good. We’ll keep you posted.” He ended the call as they got on the elevator. “We’ll take your new truck this time, Brandon. Got a body and an impatient harbormaster in Lahaina.”
“Sweet.” Mahoe rubbed his hands together with anticipation. He was still young enough to be excited about a new case, but Stevens had seen too many bodies over the years to feel that same enthusiasm. He tightened his mouth on a rebuke—the job would beat Mahoe down soon enough without his help.
Mahoe drove a black Tacoma four-door truck with racks on top and MauiBuilt stickers all along the bumper. Stevens got in the passenger side and put the portable cop light on the dash as soon as his partner pulled out of the parking lot onto the busy highway.
Stevens thumbed to Lei’s number on his phone. She did not pick up, so he left a message. “Hey, Sweets. We’re headed out to Lahaina Harbor, where there’s a fresh body washed up on the rocks. Male stabbing victim. I don’t have any more details, but this sounds like it could be one of your Sea Cloud missing persons. I’ll let you know as soon as we have a positive ID. Love you.”
Mahoe glanced over. “Maybe you can pull up the cruise personnel fingerprints on your laptop while we drive. We could do a quick visual comparison at the scene, confirm it with photos if the body’s not too far gone, and save time.”
“Good idea.” A flicker of pride warmed Stevens as he glanced at his young protégé. Brandon Mahoe had come a long way since they’d first worked together on one of the young officer’s patrol cases involving petroglyphs being stolen from sacred sites.
Stevens removed a small satellite-enabled field laptop out of his backpack. He logged on as Mahoe wound through the busy traffic of Kahului and entered the highway toward Lahaina.
“I ho
pe it isn’t Chaz.” Mahoe’s dark brows drew together in a furrow on his forehead. “I’ve never had to deal with the body of someone I know before.”
“Stay in this business long enough, and you will.” Stevens shook his head. “Yeah, I hope it isn’t either. On the other hand, if it is Chaz, he’s definitely not the perp in the Sea Cloud case. Not that any of us who know him believe that he could be.”
Mahoe didn’t hesitate to use his horn as well as the dashboard light to clear the way as they careened onto the Pali Highway, that scenic stretch of two-lane road overlooking the ocean, leading around the upper left side of the figure eight that made up Maui’s general outline.
Stevens opened the case file via the laptop balanced on his knees, and pulled up the two male possibilities that had prints in the system: Chaz and his Tongan crewman, Faifale Honopua. Patrick Peterson, renter of the Sea Cloud, was not in any databases. “I’d better call Lei’s Coast Guard liaison, Aina Thomas, and let him know about this body.”
When Thomas picked up Stevens’s call, the Coast Guardsman’s voice was rough. “We are already on our way—got a notification from 911. No rest for the weary. We’ve been diving all around the wreck site and projected rip current areas, patrolling for bodies. Still hadn’t found anything.”
“It seems like too much of a coincidence for there to be a male homicide vic in the water, in an area where it could have washed up from Lana`i,” Stevens said. “I’m glad you’ll be there; I hear the boats using the harbor are restless, wanting to keep to their schedules. I imagine the first responders are having trouble clearing the harbor of tourists and lookie-loos.”
“We’ll manage the harbor situation. No problem.”
The scene at the harbor was as chaotic as Stevens had anticipated. The responding officers had done their best, cordoning off the area around the body and holding back the crowd with scene tape and a few sawhorses. Still, spectators were three-deep all around the breakwater, crowding over the accessible areas. Everyone seemed to have their phones out, filming the sad sight of the man’s body floating face down against the rocks near the jetty where the large white ferryboat parked.
