by Toby Neal
Lei’s bed was a king, with an old-fashioned, curly iron frame and a canopy draped in filmy voile. She dove in, dressed in her usual boxers and tank top, enjoying the silky sheets. She patted the ratty handmade quilt at the foot of her bed, and Keiki leapt up with a graceful lunge, turned in a circle, and stretched herself out with a doggy sigh of content.
But even physically exhausted, with her dog at her feet and the boxy black Glock on the bed stand, Lei didn’t sleep well. Long black tendrils of hair tried to wrap around her and pull her under in dreams of clouded eyes.
Chapter Four
Too early the next morning while brushing her teeth, Lei glanced at the mirror where she’d taped a 3x5 card: Be the change you want to see in the world—Gandhi. Across from the toilet, precariously stuck to the pebbled-glass shower door: God has a plan for every living thing.
The “affirmations” were part of the cognitive behavior therapy she’d done in California while doing her AA degree. They were meant to remind her of positive truths and be replacement thoughts when memories dragged her into a dark place. Still, it was hard to believe God had a plan when she’d spent the day looking for the crime scene where two young girls were drowned.
She’d been so tired last night she’d forgotten to get her mail. She put on her rubber slippers and tripped down the cement steps to the aluminum mailbox, listing on its steel pole. She took out the handful of bills and circulars and flipped through them as she headed back to the porch. An envelope caught her eye, LEI TEXEIRA printed on it.
She ripped it open and pulled out a piece of plain computer paper. Bold capitals spelled out:
YOU LOOK PRETTY WHEN YOU SMILE
I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU CRY.
She looked at the envelope again. No address, no postmark, no stamp. Someone had personally delivered it.
The hairs on her neck rose, along with a surge of adrenaline. Her head flew up as she scanned the empty sidewalk, heart kicking into overdrive. The row of modest homes on her street were deserted except for her neighbor at the end of the block. The guy had no life. He was always either working in his immaculate yard or washing his car. This morning it was washing his car.
She bounced down the steps and ran down the street to talk with him, rubber slippers slapping against her heels.
“Hey. I got this weird message,” she said, waving the envelope. “Seen anybody messing with my mailbox?”
The man straightened, the big sponge in his hand dripping. He was younger than she’d assumed, with an angular, handsome Japanese face. The pale early-morning sun caught in glossy black hair.
“No. I haven’t seen anyone but the paperboy.”
“Well, it’s a weird note, and someone hand-delivered it. Can you remember anything unusual?”
He stared at her, and she remembered she was in the thin tank top she slept in and tiny boxers. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to look casual.
“Aren’t you a police officer?” he asked.
“Yeah—maybe that’s why I’m a target. Can you keep an eye out?”
He seemed to relent, tossing the sponge into the bucket and approaching her with his damp hand outstretched.
“Tom Watanabe,” he said. “Water Department Inspector.”
“Lei Texeira. Police officer,” she said, with an awkward laugh. She shook his hand.
“I’ll certainly keep a look out. When did you check your mail last?”
“Not since day before yesterday. I guess it could have been dropped off any time since then.”
“Well, here’s my number,” he said, opening the car door and reaching inside. It was a new Acura, charcoal with a silver flake. He handed her his card.
“I should be the one giving you my card, but I just rushed over here ...I was so hoping you had seen something.”
“Nope, sorry. Drop your number by…I’ll call you,” he said, smiling.
“Sure will.” She backed up, uncomfortable. Was he hitting on her? “See ya.”
She turned and speed-walked back to her house, conscious of his eyes on her ass. She looked back as she went inside, and sure enough he was still staring, the hose pouring unnoticed from his hand. She gave a little wave and he jerked his chin upward in ‘local style’ acknowledgement.
She slammed the door, whistling for the dog. Keiki came skittering in and she re-alarmed the house. She was rattled by the creepy way Watanabe had checked her out and his anal-retentive habits didn’t help. She stood there for a minute and did some relaxation breaths. Her eyes fell on one of her notes, stuck to the bottom of the living room lamp.
Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace. —Amelia Earhart. She felt calm move up and over her. She could handle this, freaky as it was.
She put the stalker letter in a Ziploc bag in her freezer between the stacks of Hot Pockets, and that seemed to neutralize the threat of it.
She called Pono at home. His phone was off so she left a message, changed into shorts and a ratty old Hilo Police Department t-shirt. This time she put on a shoulder holster and loaded her Glock .40 into it under a thin nylon running jacket, clipped her cell phone onto her shorts. Keiki lunged and bounced ecstatically as they went down the cement steps. Tom Watanabe and his charcoal Acura were gone, she noted with relief.
Her phone rang as they jogged through her neighborhood toward Hilo Bay. She stopped to answer it, stretching her hamstrings.
“Lei, what’s up?” Pono asked.
She told her partner about the note.
“We should check it for prints.”
“I have a feeling he didn’t leave any, but I guess we should anyway when I come in.”
“Keep your gun close until then.”
“How’d you know?” she asked, patting the Glock.
“I know you. Just don’t shoot anybody you don’t have to.”
“Aw, stealing all my fun. You’re such an old lady.” She shut the phone and slipped it in her pocket.
They picked up some real speed after that as Lei worked off the adrenaline the note had brought on. The sidewalk around the Bay was buckling, pushed upward by huge banyan tree roots. Coconut palms stood sentinel around the park, their arching fronds shimmering in the light breeze. Mynah birds hopped and chattered on the mowed grass. Keiki seemed to enjoy the briny scent of Hilo Bay, tossing her head and snorting.
Lei ran all out, the emptiness of total effort blocking out intrusive images of the dead girls brought up by the smell of the water. Keiki’s ears flattened back as they thundered through the park and made their way through the town back to the cottage. She took Keiki into her small fenced backyard and hosed the dog off, then misted her collection of orchids.
A delicate purple blood orchid, a veined variety of phalaenopsis, was blooming. Raising orchids was a pastime she’d shared with Aunty Rosario, her guardian, and working with the plants never failed to comfort and calm her. She took the orchid inside and set it on the table.
Lei showered and did the beauty routine—a handful of gel in her hair to tame it and a swipe of gloss on her full mouth. She didn’t know what accident of nature had landed her with the sprinkle of cinnamon freckles over her nose—a Portuguese, Hawaiian and Japanese heritage was full of genetic surprises. She buttoned into the stiff navy-blue uniform, buckled on her loaded duty belt, grabbed the stalker note out of the freezer and hurried out the door to her little white Honda Civic.
“Hey, babe,” said Sam, the watch officer behind the front desk, as Lei pushed through the aging glass doors of the South Hilo Police Station.
“Hey babe, yourself.”
Sam chuckled and went back to his crossword puzzle as she passed the second glass door into the bull pen and went straight back into the lab, where Pono waited at one of the workstations. She handed him the note and he sprayed it with ninhydrin.
“Gotta let it set for at least 12 hours, but usually something pops right away.” He slid the paper under the portable arc lamp but nothing fluoresced. “No dice. Let’s come back
and check at the end of the day.”
“I expected as much. Damn.”
“Well, let’s open a case for you. In case this isn’t the last we hear from this kook.”
“It better be.”
Lei signed the complaint Pono had filled out under Harassment/Stalking. They were late for the morning’s briefing and hurried back to the conference room, where Stevens and Ito were clipping pictures of the girls from Mohuli`i Pond onto the whiteboard on the back wall. Lieutenant Ohale had already taken up a stance behind the battered lectern, his broad build dwarfing it. She and Pono slipped into empty molded plastic chairs, trying to be unobtrusive, but Lei felt Ito’s stare down from the corner of the room. The rest of the current shift officers were already seated.
“Today’s priority is the Mohuli`i case. We have a few more facts since yesterday.” The Lieutenant shuffled through some notes. “The blonde girl is identified as Kelly Andrade, aged fifteen, the brunette is Haunani Pohakoa, aged sixteen. Approximate time of death is sometime late evening on Tuesday; the girls were discovered Wednesday 10:00 a.m. Preliminary tox screens came back positive for Rohypnol. There was sexual activity prior to drowning but little premortem bruising.”
He looked up, his deep brown eyes intense, ridiculously tiny reading glasses perched on his wide nose. “I can’t stand this sick shit happening in my town. Detectives Stevens and Ito are primary on the case; I’m requesting more backup from Hilo District. Stevens will be asking for additional support from you as it’s needed. Detective Stevens?”
Stevens came up and took the lectern. “Our top priority is interviewing the girls’ parents. In fact, early this morning we heard from Kelly Andrade’s parents who called in to report her missing. Ito and I did a quick trip to the house to inform them. Mother was too upset to talk so we set up an interview for this afternoon.” He looked down at his notes. “We haven’t talked to Haunani’s parents yet and we need a female officer. Texeira? Can you come do the interview with me?”
Lei went rigid, eagerness warring with apprehension, but her voice was steady as she answered.
“Of course.”
Chapter Five
Lei and Stevens got into the unmarked Bronco he drove. Lei’s stomach cramped around the granola bar she’d eaten on the way into the station, and with a panicky feeling she realized she’d forgotten the tiny cowrie shell. She’d only been on one death notification before and it honestly wasn’t something she’d ever wanted to do again.
“So you wanted a female officer—why?”
Stevens’ jaw bunched as he turned the key and the Bronco roared into life. The vehicle smelled of Mohuli`i Pond. Lei glanced into the backseat and saw muddy boots on a pile of plastic evidence bags from yesterday’s crime scene.
“Kelly’s mom, Stacie, did a lot of screaming, ran into the bathroom and took a big handful of sleeping pills. Not enough to send her to Emergency for stomach pumping, but I’m doubting she’s going to make it into the station this afternoon for the interview. The stepdad, James Reynolds, was cool as a cucumber. Blamed us for upsetting her.” He shook his head. “Ito’s a good partner but he just froze up when it got emotional, left the room. I was thinking if you talked to Haunani’s mom, you know, woman to woman, it might help us get a little more out of them.”
“Not sure why you thought I’d be any better at this than Ito.” Lei gave a short laugh.
“You said you wanted to help. This is all I got right now.”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks for giving me a shot.”
She looked out the mud-speckled window into morning light that failed to brighten the shabby low-income neighborhood they’d entered. Tiny tin-roofed cottages leaned into each other, draped in flapping laundry, lawns decorated with decrepit cars and scratching chickens.
Stevens peered over at the navigator bolted onto the dash. “This is it.”
They pulled onto a scrap of grass in front of a dwelling made of multicolored plywood shaded by a rusting tin roof. A broken Big Wheel leaned against a cement stoop where a thin brown woman sat, wreathed in cigarette smoke that did little to soften the haggard planes of her face. A flagrantly blooming plumeria tree shaded the doorway above her, and as Lei got out, a single pinwheel blossom spiraled down and landed on long black hair that reminded her of Haunani like a punch to the gut.
She hung back as Stevens approached, holding his shield up.
“Hi there. Nani Pohakoa?” His tongue still tripped over the multiple vowels of the musical language.
“I’m Nani. Who you stay?” A smoker’s voice, gravelly and suspicious.
“I’m Detective Stevens and this is Officer Texeira from South Hilo Police Department.”
“What she done? Stupid girl stay gone two days now.”
A long pause. Stevens glanced at Lei, signaling her. She stepped forward, lowered her voice. “We need to speak to you privately, Ms. Pohakoa. Can we come inside?”
Dark eyes peered at her through a rheumy film. The woman’s bony arms gestured to a couple of frayed beach chairs leaning against the wall.
“We talk here. Nowhere for sit inside.”
Lei and Stevens brought the chairs over, sat on them gingerly. The older woman dropped the cigarette butt into a jar of water at her feet, lit another one with hands that fumbled with the red Bic lighter. She took several drags and her eyes skittered away.
“Where’s Haunani’s father?”
Shrug. More drags on the cigarette. “Haven’t seen the prick in years.”
“Well. I’m sorry fo’ say we get bad news,” Lei said in pidgin. She steadied her voice. “Haunani stay make. She’s dead.”
No reaction. Nani looked blankly out into space, took another drag off the the cigarette, but now her hand shook as if with an ague. Lei reached over and captured the one holding the lighter in both of hers. Stevens shot her a quick glance.
“I’m sorry.”
Nani’s hand felt like a bundle of sticks. The woman’s throat worked as she swallowed. “How?”
“She was drowned.”
“I told her a hundred times never go swimming by the river mouth but she never listen. She always get one hard head, that girl.”
“It wasn’t accidental.” Stevens’ low voice sawed across the tension.
Another long pause.
Moving faster than she could have believed, Nani brought the lit cigarette down on the back of Lei’s hand, spitting into her face. Nani’s black eyes were empty pits of wild as she clawed at Lei, screaming incoherent curses.
Lei recoiled with a cry, flying over backwards in the flimsy beach chair as Stevens surged up and grabbed the woman, spinning her around and putting her against the wall. He cuffed her as she continued to yell incomprehensible abuse.
Lei scrambled up and went to the Bronco, listening with one ear as Stevens tried to calm Nani down. She fumbled in the glove box for the first aid kit, hoping there wasn’t HIV in the spit making its way into her eyes, down her cheek. She ripped open a Bactine-soaked wipe and scrubbed her face with it, rubbed another one on the blistering circular burn on the back of her hand, using the minutiae of attending the small wound to collect herself.
Damn rookie move, getting close, touching the woman like that. She deserved to get burned.
Nani’s invective had switched to a dry sobbing that sounded like branches rubbing in a high wind. Lei finally turned to face the tableau of Stevens beside the frail, hunched woman on the stoop, her hands cuffed behind her, skeins of black hair trailing.
“Do you want to press charges?” Stevens asked. She could tell by the timbre of his voice he didn’t want her to, and Lei knew that would shut down any further communication they might get out of Nani. Lei shook her head—she couldn’t seem to find her voice.
“I’m going to take these restraints off,” Stevens said gently. “But I’ll put them back on and take you down to the station if you try anything more.”
A tiny nod among the terrible sounds coming from the slight form. Stevens took off th
e cuffs. “Who can we call for you?”
He needn’t have asked, as doors had been opening along the row of dwellings and neighbors came out. A tall, wide woman in a muumuu and slippers approached.
“What you wen’ do to Nani?”
“Her girl, she drowned,” Lei said, coming forward.
“Oh the poor ’ting!” the neighbor exclaimed. It was unclear whether she meant Nani or her daughter, but she wedged her bulk between Stevens and Nani on the stoop, effectively squeezing him off as she looped a hamlike arm over the woman. “I going take care of you.”
“Screw you, Ohia,” Nani snarled, trying to get up, but Ohia just hoisted her closer.
“I take you inside, fix you something for eat. Bet you never wen’ eat today,” the neighbor went on, hauling Nani into the fetid interior. They disappeared, and the door slammed.
“That went well.” Stevens gestured Lei over. “You okay?”
“Worried about HIV, but yeah.” Lei put her hands in her uniform pockets, missing the cowry.
“Shit.” He seemed at a loss, finally went on. “So much for the female officer breaking the news strategy. Let’s canvass these neighbors since we’re here, maybe she’ll be calm enough to answer some questions later.”
“Okay.” She followed him as they went to the next house and worked their way down the street.
The neighbors were voluble on the subject of Nani, Haunani and the younger brother Alika, a high school freshman. Nani, a known drug addict, had been turned in to Social Services multiple times over the years and the neighbors had given up doing much besides feeding the kids when they came by. One witness alluded to Haunani being picked up and dropped off by someone in a “dark Toyota truck.”
Stevens shut his notebook after the fifth house. “We’ve got some leads here. Let’s head back to Nani’s and see if she’s ready to talk.”
