Paradise Crime Mysteries

by Toby Neal

  “I’ve heard something. Perhaps I can help.”

  “Well. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll have to get clearance to consult with you.”

  “I’m an expert on cultural practices, a spiritual leader in the Hawaiian community. In case that could be useful to your investigation.”

  “I don’t know yet. But it may be.”

  “Well, I’m here to help you with what you’re going through right now.”

  Lei pinched the bridge of her nose. This conversation felt like falling down a rabbit hole.

  “Okay. As it happens, something big is going on.” Lei let her breath out, looking down at Celebrations in May and October in her notes. “And I might be able to use a consultant in Hawaiian culture—I don’t know. But I need to have total confidentiality. Can I get that from you?”

  “Of course. I am a kahu, a minister of the Word.”

  “Well, I’d like to meet you face-to-face, and I need to clear this with my captain. When can we get together?”

  They set a date and time, then the kahu said, “When you wonder what to do, trust your heart.”

  “I can’t trust my heart. It’s unreliable.”

  “How do you know? Maybe you’re right to have done what you did. There is more for you to experience, more to help with your healing, before you settle down.”

  “Who are you referring to? I thought you didn’t know what was going on with me.” She looked down at her empty ring finger.

  “I don’t know, but you do. Your heart knows.” She hung up.

  “It does not,” Lei said aloud to the dial tone. “My heart doesn’t know shit.”

  She closed her eyes, seeing both Stevens and Alika side by side. Though it was too soon to say what it was that Alika elicited in her, she knew she loved Stevens as much as she ever had anyone, as much as she was capable of—and yet being with him terrified her.

  No, her heart didn’t have a clue what was going on.

  Jenkins came back in with a Styrofoam cup of black break room brew. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” She scooped the photos of the missing into a file, then stuffed it, her notebook, and the Nikon into her backpack. “Let’s hit the road.”

  They drove back out to windswept Polihale, and this time even the tents of the park dwellers were gone. Partway back to Kapa`a, at Lydgate Park, they approached a young couple sitting in beach chairs outside a faded tent.

  “I’ve seen this guy.” The man, tanned and wearing threadbare board shorts, tapped the artist’s rendering they’d worked up on Jim Jones. “His people came through yesterday.”

  “His people? You say that like he’s got followers or something.” Lei kept her voice even.

  “He does,” Board Shorts agreed. “They’re all part of that TruthWay group. They invited Jennie and me to their thing up at the papaya farm, but we don’t swing that way.”

  TruthWay…and the papaya farm, popping up again.

  “I’ve heard of TruthWay.” Lei decided to try a common interview tactic—acknowledge a witness’s comment, repeat it back as a statement, and see if they elaborate. “So you aren’t into that kind of swinging.”

  It worked.

  “Yeah. You know, firewalking, swapping partners…not our thing. Right, Jennie?” Jennie peeked up through tangled hair, and the gleam in her eye said she might not be opposed to a little “swapping.”

  “Know where the group meets?”

  “Not really.” Board Shorts got shifty. “It’s a papaya farm somewhere on the North Shore. They got their own place, do their celebrations there.”

  “Well, thanks so much.” Lei handed him a twenty. “Sure you can’t remember?”

  “Maybe.”

  She gave him another twenty.

  “It’s outside Kilauea. They call it the Jones family farm.”

  Back at the Subaru, Lei pulled up a tax map and identified the Jones family papaya farm, matching it to the complaint they were supposed to investigate. She glanced at her cell phone.

  “Now we really need to make a run out to that papaya farm, but it’s four thirty and I still don’t have a dress.”

  “Got a date?”

  “Believe it or not, I do.”

  “Red letter day! Who’s the victim?”

  “Shut up. It’s that developer guy I met at Paradise Realty. He’s nice.”

  “Ah, so now we know what it takes to get a date with Sweets—own a pool and a mansion and you’re golden.”

  “You’re worse than a little brother.” They were passing through Kapa`a, and Lei spotted a boutique. “Pull over.”

  The Subaru had barely drawn to the curb when Lei jumped out and ran in. Ten minutes later she came back out with a bulging pink bag. She paused at the sight of a blown-up photo of Jay Bennett’s face labeled missing—marked with Kelly’s contact information—stapled to a nearby telephone pole. She ripped it off and hopped into the Subaru.

  “Kelly’s doing her bit to find him.”

  Jenkins peered at the poster.

  “Good. We need all the help we can get. I can see you put a lot of time and effort into your shopping.”

  “Hey, he said ‘dress,’ so I got one.” Lei shoved the bag onto the floor. “Let’s roll; we should have time to swing by the papaya farm before I have to go on my date.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Lei drove down the one-lane, unpaved road in her truck, Jenkins following in the Subaru. They’d stopped at the station so she could pick up her vehicle, and now Jay Bennett’s wary blue eyes watched her, flapping a bit from the poster held on to the glove box with a magnet. Head-high buffalo grass brushed the sides of the truck as she bounced through red dirt ruts.

  Kilauea was a beautiful area planted in macadamia nut trees, coffee, lychee, banana, and papaya, all farms that had replaced pineapple in the last twenty years. To the north, the ocean shimmered, and some miles away, the rugged, drip-castle mountains that marked Hanalei raked the sky.

  Papaya trees stood tall, their slender trunks topped with clusters of palmate leaves in soldier-straight rows, marking the edge of the farm. Six-foot wire mesh fence topped with barbed wire encircled the area, choked with weeds and scrub guava. Lei drove to the gate, a metal barricade secured with a padlock on a heavy chain. Lei got out and yanked on the padlock.

  “Crap. Feel like a little trespassing?”

  “Sweets, c’mon. We’re detectives on the job. No probable cause here.” Jenkins had pulled up beside her.

  “I hear a scream?”

  “Down, girl. Get back in the truck. You don’t want to endanger anything we can get on them later, do you? We’ll have to call and tell them we’re coming.”

  “Shit. I wanted to get eyeballs on the place now.” Lei looked contemplatively at the gate, but in the distance she could hear the bellowing of a large dog. “Awful lot of security for a papaya farm.”

  “We’ll have to try again when they can let us in.”

  “I guess.” She got back in the truck and fired it up.

  “Have fun on your date,” Jenkins said with a grin as he pulled out. “I want all the details in the morning.”

  “Shit,” she muttered. “Almost forgot.”

  She drove slowly along the edge of the farm, scanning, but the whole property was securely fenced. There was nothing to see but acres of papaya trees, and nothing to hear but the distant thunder of the barking dog.

  Lei pulled under the vast portico of the Princeville Hotel, the door of her Tacoma opened by the valet. As she handed him her keys, she saw his eye run down her toned leg to the new slingback on her foot. She’d needed shoes too, and fortunately the boutique had some in her size.

  “Have a nice evening, miss,” the valet said as he got into the truck.

  “Thanks. I will.” Lei tugged down the short skirt of the narrow, strapless black dress she’d grabbed so hastily off the rack—a dress that turned out to be shorter and tighter than she’d estimated.

  Alika Wolcott reached for her hand
as she looked up.

  “Wow,” he said. His golden eyes crinkled in a smile. He took a red rose from behind his ear and presented it with a flourish. “You look amazing.”

  “Thanks,” she said, the dangling weight of her aunt’s greenish purple Tahitian pearl earrings making her feel regal. She tucked the rose behind her ear and gave a nervous glance at his dazzling height in black trousers and jacket over an open-necked silk shirt. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  He shrugged. “Man outfits. All the same.”

  He escorted her with a light touch on her back through the huge doors into the lobby.

  Lei stared through a seamless bank of windows that framed an immense view of mountains, ocean, and sky. A black marble reflecting pool began at the entrance and ran the length of the lobby, appearing to fall into space as it sheeted in a waterfall to the next level below. Guests traversed a staircase on either side to the dining area. Lei caught her breath at the expanse, her eyes feasting on the vista.

  “Oh,” she said, and just stood for a moment. “It was worth coming just to see this.”

  “There’s more. A lot more.” Lei felt Alika’s eyes on her face, the butterfly touch of his finger on her bare collarbone. “You have a scar here. What happened?”

  “A perp bit me.”

  “Bit you? On the collarbone? I’m sure there’s a story there.”

  “Not one I want to tell.”

  “What a witty conversationalist. I’ll have to get you liquored up.” Lei laughed as he escorted her down the staircase. “You’re going to love the bar.”

  Lei craned her neck as they descended, looking at clear blown crystal chandeliers hung at different lengths on long, almost invisible cords from the ceiling. Droplets of fractured light danced in the waterfall beside them.

  He pointed to the right. “There’s the ballroom where the gala is being held.” His hand touched her back again as he guided her to the left. “The bar is down here.”

  They descended another flight of stairs, walking into gloom woven with wavering light. Lei looked up and realized they were underneath the pool where the waterfall splashed. A Plexiglas ceiling allowed the far-off light of the chandeliers to fall around them like golden coins. The black marble floor added to the feeling of being in an underwater cave.

  She looked up into the light, and—giving into impulse—spun around.

  “Oh,” she said, and smoothed her dress, an embarrassed smile curling up one side of her mouth. The rose had fallen on the floor. “I’m sorry. I had to do that.”

  He reached down and handed her the rose.

  “I don’t mind. I’ve often wanted to do the same.” He opened his arms wide and whirled around. For a moment he was limned in gold. “Now that we both have no dignity whatsoever, let’s go add some alcohol to the mix.”

  “You must’ve read my mind.”

  “What’ll you have?” The bartender leaned forward to take their order over a bar made of translucent Plexiglas embedded with little glowing lights.

  “Chardonnay,” Lei said. She sat on one of the clear molded stools and spun around to get a full sense of the place. “It’s underwater magic.”

  “Sometimes they turn on a disco ball in the main lobby, lower it down over the reflecting pool,” Alika said.

  “Want me to turn it on?” the bartender asked. Lei nodded, and the man pushed a button on the wall. They backed away from the bar and tipped their heads back to watch as a large disco ball lowered out of the ceiling of the lobby far above them, separated by layers of air, water, and Plexiglas. Sparks of colored light spun all over the room, and all the guests murmured.

  The music increased in volume. One of her parents’ favorite songs: “The Way You Look Tonight.”

  Alika took her hand without speaking and led her into the light-splashed space. They danced a gentle two-step around the room, and Lei felt the music moving through her. She relaxed into Alika’s hand in the center of her back, her cheek near his chest, her hand in his as they circled the room, other couples joining in. The song ended and Alika walked her back to the bar.

  Her chardonnay was waiting, pale and icy, along with his Scotch on the rocks. Lei sipped it appreciatively.

  “I have a thing about that song. My father used to sing it to my mom. Back when they were happy. I hardly remember that, but she would play it when she missed him.” Lei took another sip.

  “Funny how music can take you straight back to another time and place. I danced with Ruthie Kahakauwila in seventh grade to that song.”

  For the first time she let her eyes wander over his silk shirt, well-cut black trousers, the bold line of his jaw. When he was turned away from her, she could really look at him, and she gazed at the clean line of his profile in wonder. Genetics were an unfair mystery. She remembered Stevens’s rugged features with a pang—never quite handsome, his power and presence made him unforgettable, while Alika had both looks and charisma.

  “Don’t tell me your heritage—I want to guess.” He leaned toward her and in the dim light captured her chin, turning her face toward him. Spangles of moving colored light dappled them.

  “These lips—made for kissing—look Hawaiian to me. These eyes—full of fight and danger—look a little Japanese. And this skin.” He bent her face a little more into the light. “Your freckles—this skin—you’ve got Portuguese too. A true island princess.”

  Before she could stiffen or pull away, his mouth touched hers in a kiss, haunting in its gentleness. Her eyes drifted shut, her mouth turned up, and then she felt him leave—a cool breath of air fanning across her face as he moved away.

  She turned and took a big swig of wine. He was the first man she’d kissed since Stevens, and she still wasn’t sure she was ready for any of it. She was terrified of her response—the prickling of her breasts, the way her mouth tingled, hungering for more of his.

  He finished his drink and set a bill on the counter.

  “Shall we?”

  “Why not? Get it over with.” Lei’s nervous defiance was a familiar default mode. They walked into the ballroom where the event was underway. She blinked as she looked around, eyes adjusting to the bright light.

  “Champagne?” a waiter with a loaded tray asked.

  “Definitely.” She hooked a glass off the tray, her arm tucked into Alika’s as she took it all in. A well-dressed crowd formed a line beside a lavish buffet while a Hawaiian-music quartet played onstage in front of an open dance area. Lei broke away to examine velvet-covered tables forming a bay filled with silent-auction treasures. She looked back—an attractive woman had already cornered Alika. She turned to study the artworks, jewelry, flower arrangements, and fruit baskets in front of her.

  “I like this.” A long finger pointed to the delicate rose-pink of a densely woven kahelelani shell necklace in front of her.

  “Me too.” Lei turned to the finger’s owner, a tall man with a gleaming kukui-nut lei over the aloha-print shirt he wore. “Don’t see shell necklaces like that too often. Looks like the real thing, from Ni`ihau.”

  “It is. I know the woman who makes these.”

  “Well, I’m sure it will bring in some good money for the cause.”

  “Why don’t you bid on it?”

  “Too rich for my blood.”

  Alika materialized at her elbow.

  “Mac Williamson,” he said, with the kind of bluff heartiness that, among men, hid dislike. “Hitting on my date, I see.”

  The man ignored Alika, looking down into Lei’s eyes. His were dark, gleaming, and nearly hidden by spiky brows. He took her hand in a big calloused one, kissed it with a gesture both old-fashioned and courtly.

  “I’m Mac,” he said. “What’s your name?”

  “Leilani Texeira.” She was possessed of something close to mischief as she dimpled at the tall stranger. “Mac. Short for something?”

  “Mackenzie Ikaika Lono Williamson, to give you something to chew on. You should bid on the necklace. It would look good on you.”r />
  “I think I will,” Lei said, and turned her back on both of them to write her name on the top line, adding what was for her an extravagant bid of one hundred and fifty dollars.

  She gave the necklace a longer look. The tiny pink shells, smaller than a rice grain, were valued more highly than their weight in gold in the islands. Each one was handpicked from the sand and hand pierced by a needle, strung in intricate patterns that were passed down through generations in a Hawaiian tradition that was in danger of being lost. She turned back, to find Alika waiting and Mac gone.

  “I’ve never seen him show interest in someone before,” Alika said. A frown stitched a furrow in his smooth forehead. “That was weird.”

  “Great. Anybody who likes me is weird,” Lei said. “Where are your manners, Mr. Smooth Talker?”

  “No, I mean it. Mac’s a hermit, lives out in Ha`ena on a big family estate with nothing but a caretaker for company. Strange for him to come to one of these things, let alone introduce himself. I’ve known him all my life and thought he was asexual. Not even enough there to be gay.”

  Lei must have been imagining the bitterness in his voice. She snatched another glass of champagne off a passing tray.

  “C’mon.” Alika took her elbow. “I’ve got people for you to meet.”

  They circulated until Lei was a little dizzy from champagne and names. Alika finally sat her at a little table near the musicians and went to get food.

  Mac materialized beside her.

  “Oh, hello! Where’d you disappear to?”

  “Don’t like him,” Williamson said bluntly. “I went to get you something.”

  He set a little velvet bag in front of her. She looked down at it in surprise, opening her mouth to refuse whatever was there, but when she looked up he was gone again. The man was a giant jack-in-the-box. She was working open the little cords when Alika arrived with two plates loaded with fancy buffet food.

  “What’s that?”

  “Gift from a gentleman admirer,” Lei said, upending the pouch. A glowing pink Ni`ihau shell necklace, secured with a clasp made of a sunrise shell, poured out onto the table.