Paradise Crime Mysteries

by Toby Neal

  “You don’t look so bad yourself.” The agent gestured to Lei’s costume. Lei had on a crocheted bikini top and a pair of short shorts with a peace sign on the butt. Her wig was freshly brushed and tattoos recently touched up. She’d thrown a button-down man’s shirt over the ensemble for decency’s sake.

  “How’d I get the surveillance detail, is what I want to know,” grumbled Rogers, cleaning his gun at the table. It was a well-used Glock .40, if the wear on the pebbled grip was anything to go by.

  “It’s the ladies that get the welcome mat at the cult,” Marcella said. “Besides, you don’t really blend.”

  “I’ll second that,” Lei agreed. In camouflage gear, Rogers was downright intimidating.

  Marcella and Rogers had already scouted the farm on foot and from the air and had a surveillance post picked out for him. Two more agents would be out in the surveillance van while the three of them went into the papaya farm.

  Lei hid her tiny, clear plastic earpiece behind the black wig’s long strands as Marcella did the same. Rogers donned more obvious communication gear, and Agent Morse, the tech expert, checked their equipment one final time.

  By the time he was done, the sun had dropped behind the mountain range, and they got into the Camaro and set off for the papaya farm. The white utility van marked “Hawaiian Telcom” followed at a discreet distance.

  Marcella pulled over before the gate and let Rogers out of the car. In camo fatigues with a backpack of assorted equipment and weapons, he seemed to disappear as he vaulted the fence and trotted into the rows of papaya trees.

  “Sound check, Red One,” Marcella said.

  “Roger that,” Rogers answered. “In my case, it’s literal. Red One out.”

  Lei gave a little snort of laughter. “Ginger here.”

  “Red Two checking. Okay, we’re live.” She activated the recording function of their equipment. Both women were also wearing tiny button cams.

  Marcella pulled the Camaro up next to Jazz’s VW van. The store owner puffed nervously on a joint, which he stuffed into the ashtray at the sight of them, waving the pungent smoke away.

  “Tiger’s going to be excited to see you both,” he said. “But he’s not a gentleman, I’m telling you. Sure you want to do this?”

  “We have to get inside, check them out at least. Don’t worry. We’re not going to draw attention to ourselves.”

  “Don’t know if that’s possible, with those outfits.” Jazz unlocked the gate and drove the VW through. They followed in the Camaro. He walked back and draped the lock so it appeared shut and then bounced down the potholed road ahead of them, trackless acres of papaya trees stretching away in every direction.

  Lei’s earpiece crackled. “Red One in position.”

  “That was quick.” Lei remembered from the schematic where Rogers was positioned, halfway up a lone Norfolk pine that marked the edge of the bedraggled lawn around the small cottage squatting in the midst of tall hibiscus bushes. He’d had to traverse the length of the papaya field and climb the tree without being seen. It didn’t appear to have been a challenge for him.

  They pulled into the yard filled with parked cars in front of a great steel barn. The barn doors were open, people milling around the entrance. Lei couldn’t help a glance at the Norfolk pine, but there was nothing to see.

  Marcella parked the Camaro and went into acting mode, running around the front and hugging Jazz enthusiastically as he got out of the van.

  “Thanks so much for letting me come, Jazz! This is so neat. I’ve never been on a papaya farm before!”

  “Have fun. Just don’t drink too much of the stuff in the bowl that comes around.” The tips of his ears turned red from what Lei had been privately calling the “Marcella effect.” The deerskin costume certainly enhanced it.

  Jazz strode into the barn with each of them hanging off an arm.

  “Peace and welcome,” said the young mother from Polihale with her tanned baby on her hip, swaying to the beat of a drum circle warming up against the far wall. Lei recognized several of the hippies she and Jenkins had met at Polihale; the older couple were preparing something at a table in the back. Lei took a seat beside Jazz, sitting cross-legged as the festivities got started.

  Tiger appeared, gleaming with oil, wearing a catlike striped fur loincloth. He glanced at Lei but focused on Marcella, reaching down to take her hand and sit beside her.

  “Jazz, who is this lovely sister?”

  “Marcella. My new café girl. She’s from the Big Island.”

  “Hi.” Marcella smiled, dimple much in evidence. “I like your outfit.”

  “And I like yours,” Tiger said. Lei could swear his canines were longer than they should be. “Welcome to TruthWay.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The Timekeeper wove through the crowd, letting his body move however it wanted to, spinning and stomping to the timeless rhythms of the drums. He hadn’t joined his people in a while, but after repeated trips to the cave to see the Chosen steadily declining, he felt a need to be with others who worshipped what he served.

  He was a little high, but not yet fully under the influence of the hallucinogenic brew that would be circulating later. He liked to take it slow, wait and see what experience the Voices had for him. He stomped and spun over to the drum line and picked up his djembe, joining the other musicians in creating the pulsing atmosphere that set the stage for the rhythms of life they celebrated.

  His hands beat the stretched skin of their own accord while his eyes roamed. He marked and noticed anyone new. His eye was caught by a particularly fit and uninhibited young woman in a fringed outfit, dancing with Tiger.

  Then he noticed the woman sitting off to the side. She was draped in long black hair, but there was something about her peregrine stillness that set her apart.

  Now, and when he’d met her.

  In no time, a long feathered pipe was passing as the drums picked up speed. Lei stayed seated as Marcella, Jazz, and Tiger joined the mosh pit of stomping and swaying. She kept looking—she didn’t know who she was looking for. Dan? Someone else? She just had an odd, urgent feeling.

  Marcella caught her eye, and Lei realized she was drawing attention to herself by staying seated. She got to her feet. A tall shadow appeared at her elbow, and a long finger reached out and touched the necklace at her throat.

  “I know you,” said Mac Williamson. His big hand took hers, which had suddenly gone numb as her worlds intersected. He drew her off to the side. “What’s with the wig?”

  “Uh, trying to blend,” Lei stuttered. She’d take a leaf from Marcella’s book and distract him the old-fashioned way. She shrugged out of the man’s shirt. “Dance with me.” She dragged him out into the middle of the dancers and put all her panic into swaying and gyrating.

  It seemed to be working. He got moving and was surprisingly limber and coordinated. She actually found herself enjoying it as he created space for them to move together and matched her intensity with unique martial arts–like movements.

  The drums came to a crescendo, and everyone flopped in a circle as the older couple brought a coconut bowl of mysterious drink around. Mac sat behind her, and she moved into the circle of his long arms, feeling protected.

  Marcella crawled over from her spot a few yards distant. “Who’s your friend?” She twinkled all her charm at Mac, but Lei could see assessment in her big, dark eyes.

  “Mac Williamson. He’s all right,” Lei said. Her earbud crackled.

  “Running background check. Red One out.” Lei remembered one of the tools Rogers carried in his backpack was a laptop with satellite uplink.

  The bowl came to them—Cal Haddock, Jazz’s brother, handed it to her, and she pretended to drink. The dark liquid left a fizzy aftertaste that numbed her lips.

  Tiger moved in on Marcella, nuzzling her neck. Lei wasn’t sure how she did it, but somehow Marcella managed to avoid him while appearing to enjoy his attentions. Lei was going to have to learn some of those moves. Whe
n the bowl had circulated the room a few times, Tiger stood up and addressed the group, hands outstretched.

  “Peace. Truth. Love.”

  “Peace. Truth. Love,” the people chanted back.

  “We have some guests today. We want to honor them with a special toast. Lani and Marcella, come up.” Lei’s scalp prickled with alarm, but she and Marcella stood and faced the cult leader. He took the bowl and raised it high. “Spirits of Truth, bless this bowl. Let it show these sisters the Truth; let them see it reflected in every embrace.”

  Lei glanced at Marcella out of the corner of her eye as Tiger handed the halved coconut shell, shiny with use, to the agent. Marcella closed her eyes and appeared to drink deep. When she handed the bowl to Lei, it was half empty.

  Lei had no such courage. She barely let the liquid touch her lips, and immediately felt the numbness that signaled its effect.

  She handed it back to Tiger and he finished it. The crowd cheered, and something about that roar reminded Lei of the bloodthirsty howl of the Colosseum. Her earbud crackled.

  “Red One checking thermal imaging. What’s going on in there?”

  “Marcella drank a lot of the drink,” Lei said. The noisy crowd drowned her comment.

  “Red Two, what’s your game plan?” Rogers’s voice was a crack of alarm.

  “Authenticity and puking,” said Marcella. She bent over and vomited. Some of it splashed on Lei’s feet.

  “Gross!” Lei exclaimed.

  “Red Two—you okay?” Rogers’s voice.

  “Early training—bulimia,” hissed Marcella, staggering realistically. She fell to the ground in a good imitation of a faint, and Lei bent to help her. The drums resumed, and Tiger leaned down.

  He hefted Marcella up over his shoulder and put his other arm around Lei, dragging her off the dance floor. The crowd roared again, and Lei looked around wildly for Mac or Jazz.

  She couldn’t see either of them. Lei was revolted by the garlicky body odor emanating from Tiger’s skin. She writhed and tried to break his hold, but he clamped her wrist in a grip that would leave bruises the next day. She felt the walls closing in as he dragged her toward the back door of the barn. Her ears buzzed with incipient dissociation.

  She felt Marcella touch her shoulder. The agent held her finger to her lips and winked at Lei. Even with her head dangling upside down over a man’s shoulder, Marcella had it together. Lei sucked a few breaths and got her terror under control.

  They pushed through a rough wooden door to the outside. Lei stumbled in the long grass as Tiger yanked her forward. “Let me show you how we worship.”

  He brought them to a tool shed attached to the back of the barn. A single dim bulb hung from the center beam. Several futons lined the floor—this was Tiger’s sex lair. Lei could smell it.

  She’d come far enough. She flipped her arm, breaking his hold at the same moment Marcella arched up and karate-chopped the side of Tiger’s neck. He went limp as a dishrag, crumpling where he stood. Marcella somehow landed on her feet.

  “What a shame he passed out,” she said, surveying Tiger’s sprawled body.

  “Ginger, Red Two. You okay?”

  “It’s handled,” Marcella said.

  Lei’s knees were shaking and her wrist throbbed. All that Tae Kwon Do practice and she still wasn’t at all sure she could have escaped from Tiger alone. They picked the cult leader up under the armpits and hauled him into the shed, sliding the door shut. They closed the hasp and stuck a stick through it. “He can still get out. Let’s hope it isn’t anytime soon,” Marcella said. “Let’s poke around, see what else we can find.”

  “Roger that.”

  “I’m not seeing a connection here so far, just a lot of drugs and sex. I’m also worried that Mac guy will blow your cover.”

  “He’s clean, Red Two,” said Rogers. “No priors, not even a parking ticket.”

  “I don’t think Mac knows I’m a detective. I met him socially,” Lei said. They trotted to a low nearby outbuilding, another of the metal sheds. Lei rubbed the window—blacked out. A big padlock secured the door.

  “Red One. Checking this outbuilding. Anything on the thermal?”

  “Heat sources inside but small. Not human.”

  They circled around and Lei spotted a six-inch circular vent. She reached inside, pushed. Pushed again. They heard the metallic clatter of the grille falling to the floor. Marcella took out a tiny, powerful penlight she carried in a leather pouch at her side and shone it inside. She gave a low whistle between her teeth and handed the penlight to Lei. Lei squinted into the circular opening as she shone the beam around a room. Crock-Pots and trays in rows on several tables, more stacked HEET in boxes, even a giant roll of tiny tear-off ziplock baggies.

  “Contents consistent with meth production, Red One,” Marcella said.

  “Must be how they get their money. None of them seem to have jobs,” Lei said. “I wonder if there’s any connection to the Nakamoto murder.”

  “Let’s discuss it when the op is over,” Marcella said. They darted back over to the barn and slid along the side of the building, heading toward the house.

  “We have movement.” The earbud crackled. “Someone’s exited the barn. Looks tall enough to be a man. Possibly two.”

  The women plastered themselves against the side of the wall, hearing stumbling footsteps coming their way.

  “Lani?” Jazz’s voice.

  “Tell him I’m sick so we can leave,” Marcella whispered.

  Lei stepped out and touched him, and he gave a little shriek of fright.

  “Oh my God, Jazz, we barely got away,” Lei said, tugging Marcella forward. The agent staggered realistically. “Marcella drank too much of that stuff, and Tiger tried to rape us!”

  “I warned you guys—he’s dangerous.” Jazz sounded genuinely worried as Marcella sagged in Lei’s arms.

  “TruthWay is not all like that.” Mac’s deep voice came from the shadows. “I’m sorry you had a bad time.”

  He walked beside them as they made a beeline toward the Camaro, Jazz bringing up the rear.

  “It’s okay. I just need to get Marcella home. Tiger passed out before he could do any real damage.” Lei supported Marcella toward the Camaro, and Mac opened the door. Lei noticed the carved staff he carried, but she couldn’t make out any detail in the dim light. He helped her get Marcella into the car.

  “Not all of us are like that,” he said again. “Some of us want to show you another way.”

  “Whatever. I’ve had enough Truth for one night,” Lei said. She got in her side of the Camaro and slammed the door, locking it. Mac’s staff tapped on the window. Lei looked up as she turned on the car with keys left under the seat.

  “See you soon,” Mac said through the glass.

  Lei nodded, and the Camaro jumped forward and roared out of the yard.

  “Casual; be cool,” said Marcella. “Don’t blow the cover.” She seemed genuinely out of it now, head lolling. “I puked, but some of that shit must have got me.”

  “Red Two, this is Red One. Meet at rendezvous point.”

  “Ginger here. She’s kind of out of it, and I’m driving. What’re the coordinates?”

  “Corner of the papaya farm, west side,” Rogers barked. He was breathing hard and she could tell he was running.

  The evening had started out so under control. Lei looked over at the indomitable Marcella curled up, small and vulnerable in the bucket seat.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Sunday, October 31

  Lei debriefed with the agents by phone the next morning.

  “How are you feeling, Marcella?” Lei had dropped the agents off at the safe house the night before.

  “Got a headache, but I’m okay. We’ve been conferring with the other agents from BAU and reviewing the footage from last night, and we’re going to just surveil the cult for now. There’s nothing there so far that ties them to the murders. Newsome wants to keep you and me at the Health Guardian to pick up intel
in the community and on Jazz, but no more trips to the celebration. Too risky.”

  “What about the meth lab and Tiger? That man’s a rapist, at least.”

  “We’ve apprised your captain. He’s agreed to hold off on arresting them until we see what shakes out with the investigation. Soon as we know there’s no connection, they can move in.”

  “What about the Nakamoto murder?”

  “Thought you had someone in custody.”

  “I think he was framed.”

  “That’s one for your PD to handle. We have to stay focused on the unsub who’s disappearing people. Let me fill you in on the latest so far.” The bones found in the cave had yielded their DNA to the grindstone of the FBI’s portable lab. Two of the skeletons had been identified through a national missing persons database, and the hand bones in the wall cache belonged to five different unknown donors.

  “Unsub?” Lei wasn’t familiar with the term.

  “Unknown subject.”

  “Ah. Feds and their lingo.”

  “Separates the women from the girls.”

  “Five victims?” Lei shook her head, sipping a second cup of coffee too fast and burning her tongue. “Wow.”

  “Yeah. The lab is working on those, but it’s not a quick process. Becky’s been a big help.”

  “She’s good at what she does. Anything else about the bones?”

  “The bodies were cut up and each of the pieces burned—but not totally, just the meat burned off. I don’t know why the unsub did it that way. He could have eliminated the bones entirely, burnt them to dust so they’d be gone as evidence. Anyway, it’s probably part of his pathology—MO to you police types.”

  “Gotcha. I’m going out to pick up the list of heiau sites from Esther Ka`awai this morning. Stevens needs it to organize the Hanalei Valley cadaver search. I’m not looking forward to it. She was pretty fired up about me arresting her grandson.”

  “Hey, tough luck on that,” Marcella said. Her concern sounded genuine. “I heard you guys were dating.”