by Toby Neal
Omura paused to glance around as if for input or questions, but no one chimed in. She aimed the red dot at the photo of Walker. “When Kennedy was apprehended, she implicated her business manager, Karen Walker, who’d skipped earlier. Walker appears to have set Kennedy up to take the fall, by conducting all her business with the House and his connections under Magda’s name.
“In fact, when we apprehended Celeste Anderson and Kimo Emmanuel, they identified Walker as Magda, their boss. Rodney Farrell and Anchara also both identified Walker’s photo as the Magda they knew,” Omura concluded.
“Celeste and Kimo also led us to the warehouse in Haiku where the girls originally escaped. We found the current crop of girls there. They’re being processed by INS. The key Texeira found at the original crash scene fit the door and confirms Anchara’s story,” Marcella said, voice tinny in the feed.
“So is Magda Kennedy involved or not?” Captain Corpuz asked.
“Apparently, she was more of a socialite than a businesswoman and let Walker run most of the day-to-day operations. Walker, or Kennedy, encrypted the computers that would have led to the money trail. Farrell, the purser, indicated ‘Magda’ was the money launderer for the House. We have IT division trying to reconstruct something, but it doesn’t look good—and Kennedy is doing a good job of pleading ignorance. We’re still digging.” Omura’s sniff indicated what she thought of the gallery owner, and she went on. “Then, to top it off, Walker stole Kennedy’s Escalade and ran Texeira off the road with it.”
“How do you know it was Walker?” Lei asked.
“We recovered the Escalade, abandoned downtown with trace on it from Texeira’s Tacoma and prints from Walker inside. We’re beginning to wonder if Walker’s just another alias as well,” Omura said.
“Why would she bother? She was on the run; her cover was already blown,” Lei said.
“Don’t know. Maybe she’s just a sore loser,” Pono said. “She should’ve known you’ve got more lives than a cat.”
Lei shook her head. “Been hearing that too much lately,” she said.
Omura clicked off the pointer and gestured to the monitor. “Agents, what’s up on your end?”
“We brought in Ken Taketa, House’s money man.” Marcella’s voice was amplified oddly by the feed, and wavy lines emanated from her dark hair like a demented halo. “He gave us an identity on the House—a prominent businessman in Honolulu, Joseph Millhouse. We did a raid on his mansion last night, but Millhouse had skipped.”
Silence met this bald statement.
“Maybe he and Walker ran off together,” Bunuelos said, and the room erupted in tension-breaking chuckles.
Stevens added, “Probably on Duchess Cruise Lines,” and the chuckles erupted into guffaws.
Omura clapped manicured hands for order. “Not a bad idea. Did we do a BOLO for passengers matching their descriptions for all the cruise ships?”
“Just the airports, I think,” Stevens finally said, and just like that the meeting was over as Captain Corpuz bellowed, “Get the word out to the coast guard NOW!”
The feed cut to the FBI as the agents disappeared. The other detectives scattered.
Lei, still on admin leave for the investigation of her accident, was left sitting at the table contemplating the malasadas with Pono, who had his Oakleys down and a line between his brows.
“Shit. I think they’re going to fucking get away with it all. Probably got a fortune banked in the Bahamas.” Lei sighed and put the foam collar back on.
“Looks that way, but the Feds are after them, coast guard, Interpol…Someone could still bag them.” Pono rubbed his bristling mustache with a forefinger. “When you coming back to work? We got other cases, you know. I miss my partner.”
“I know. Doctor I saw at the hospital said at least a week off work. They’re worried about complications from the concussion I had and then the whiplash. I’m also supposed to start looking for another house for us.” Lei couldn’t put into words how that depressed her and made her head ache. Setting up a home from nothing while Stevens got to go to work seemed like the height of unfair. She’d picked up the morning paper on the way into the meeting and tapped the classifieds. “This is what I’m supposed to be doing.”
“Have fun with that. I’ll run you back to the safe house.”
They got up and headed down the bustling hall through the bull pen together. Lei blinked as they emerged into the unrelenting Maui sunshine of the parking lot. Pono led her to his truck. She hopped up into the cab with the help of the chrome step.
“What’s going to happen to Anchara now that the case isn’t going to trial anytime soon?” Pono asked, turning on the engine with a roar.
“I’m working with Omura on a special circumstances visa application. I think she deserves to stay in the States after all she’s been through and how she’s helped with the investigation.”
“I hope she gets it. Poor girl deserves a break.”
“Yeah.”
He dropped her at the gate of the safe house, classifieds in hand. Keiki bounced with happiness to see her. She had just enough energy to walk over to the step and sit down. She worked the dog for a while, practicing various commands.
Anchara came to the door, carrying a knotted T-shirt. “Can I throw this for dog?”
“Her name’s Keiki,” Lei said. “That would be great, tire her out a bit. I can’t throw right now with my neck like this.”
Anchara threw the T-shirt, and Keiki bolted after it. “I like your dog. I scared of her at first.”
“I like her too.” Eventually Keiki flopped down on the top step, tongue hanging as they petted her.
“What’s going to happen to me?” Anchara folded her arms around her knees, her chin resting on them, big doe eyes worried. Lei had to remind herself the girl was twenty-three.
“Working on getting you an emergency green card. I don’t think you need to stay here much longer.”
“I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“Well. That makes two of us.” Lei gave a short bark of a laugh. She shook out the rolled-up newspaper. “Let’s check these out together.”
“I don’t have any money.”
“Omura’s doing some paperwork for you to get a stipend through Victim Assistance. It’s going to be okay.”
Lei was surprised to feel the Thai girl’s arms reach over the sleeping dog to hug her. “Thanks. You do so much for me.”
“You’re welcome.” Lei’s cell bleeped, and she cleared her throat and detached herself. “Excuse me. This is Texeira,” she answered.
“Lei? Hello, dear. This is Dr. Wilson.”
Her therapist from the Big Island. Lei’s pulse picked up with the combination of tension and anticipation the unconventional therapist evoked in her, even after a year in therapy. “Dr. Wilson, what a surprise! What’s this about?”
“MPD flew me over to do some seminars and I heard you’d had an attempt on your life. Your commanding officer asked me to do your debrief, since I was in town.”
“Wow, that’s great!” Lei said with fake enthusiasm.
Dr. Wilson laughed, the unladylike belly laugh Lei had grown to love. “You bullshitter,” she said. “I’m in a cab on my way.”
“Okay,” Lei said, and closed the phone. “Anchara, I’m going to need some privacy.”
Chapter Forty
Dr. Wilson looked the same—ash-blond hair, petite figure in polo shirt and twill skirt, sensible Naturalizer sandals on legs that looked like they played a lot of tennis. She’d added a gold Hawaiian bracelet to her tanned arm, the only change Lei could see. The psychologist sat in the overstuffed recliner and concerned sea-blue eyes took inventory of Lei as she sat on the tweedy couch—an echo of their many sessions in Hilo.
“You look like you’ve been through a war.”
“It was a bad case,” Lei said. “We think there was a hit on me. There were several attempts—hit me with a car while I was out jogging, burned our house down, and ran me off the
road in my truck.”
“Oh my God. That must have been horrible.”
“It’s been a lot, yeah.” Tears welled. She got up, began to pace, reached into her pocket and missed her black worry stone for the hundredth time. “This foam neck thing is from the last attempt. One of the suspects, Karen Walker, stole a car from her employer, and as part of her ‘scorched earth’ departure, ran me off the road.”
“Jesus,” Dr. Wilson said. “Just when it seemed like things were settling down for you and Stevens.”
“About that. He wants to get married. Gave me the ring again, and you know that’s what freaked me out and sent me to Kaua`i last time. I said I’d wear it on a chain until I knew what to do with it, and I had taken it off in the kitchen when the house burned down.”
Dr. Wilson inclined her head.
Lei swiveled, paced back. “I’ve been trying not to deal with this, but Marcella Scott, my agent friend, has been trying to recruit me for the FBI. I have to make a decision soon. And now I have literally nothing but my dog and my boyfriend stopping me from going.”
“So you feel like all the things that might hold you back have been severed.”
“Not all. I mean, Stevens and I…We’re good.” She felt a blush roar up to prickle her scalp, and she rubbed her head, smiling. “We’re really good. He’s—amazing.” She knew her grin was the sappy lovesick type. “He’s done more to heal me than all the therapy in the world.”
“I can see that. Nothing like the love of a good man to restore what a bad man took.”
“Oh. And about that.” Lei took a breath, blew it out. “I tracked Kwon, my molester.”
“You told me his name. I saw in the news he was shot. Part of why I came here—I wondered if you had anything to do with that.” Calm blue eyes seemed to see into her soul. Lei felt a tingling like heartburn under her sternum. That visit to Kwon could still ruin her life.
“How much of this interview is confidential?” she asked.
“All of it except suicidal or homicidal confessions.”
“Well, I’m bummed you think I could do something like that—but I guess it’s a fair question. The answer’s no. I went over there, gave him a piece of my mind and a taste of the butt end of my pistol, but I left him alive. I’m worried someone’s going to connect me with that, but so far they haven’t.”
“Well, they won’t hear anything from me.”
“It’s a good thing, too. It was awful seeing Kwon.” She blew out a breath. “He didn’t recognize me.”
“You grew up,” Dr. Wilson said gently.
“I reminded him of that name he had for me. ‘Damaged Goods.’ He didn’t react. Made me think I wasn’t the only little girl he made damaged goods.” She coughed around the lump in her throat. “Anyway, the bastard got his, and in the end, I’m glad someone else did it.”
“That must have been hard.”
“I didn’t know what I was going to do until the very last second. It was scary.” Lei picked up the threadbare cushion, hugged it. “I expected him to be bigger, to look evil like I remembered. He was just an ordinary little man.”
Tears brimmed again, and this time Lei put her face into the pillow.
“I’m proud of you for facing him. Often the worst monsters are wolves in sheep’s clothing, just little, ordinary men.” Dr. Wilson handed her the box of tissues. Lei mopped her face, blew her nose.
“Or women. Like Walker. She’s a sadist, gets off on others’ pain—and so is the House, apparently.”
“Did they escape together?”
“We don’t know, but the timing is interesting.” Lei got up, paced again, hugging the pillow. “So people keep trying to kill me. And get killed around me. I’m bad for Stevens; he could have died in the fire.”
“Oh, don’t even go there, Lei. That old 'I’m bad luck and bad news’ line isn’t going to fly with me. You’ve chosen a dangerous profession. Take up teaching or nursing or social work if you don’t want people trying to kill you.”
Lei sat back down. “But I can’t be something I’m not. I’m a cop, first and foremost. Stevens knows that, respects it, but I think he wants the white picket fence thing, too.”
“Nothing wrong with that. There are other officer couples who make that work.”
“Not hard-core. Not the way I work.” She got up, paced again, rubbed her hands on her jeans. “The job comes first, but—I love him.”
“I’ve never heard you say that before.”
“I’ve been saying it more. It gets easier.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Dang.” Dr. Wilson glanced at her watch. “Well, I hope you’ll call me when you do. I’ve got a plane to catch. Anything else?”
“No. Just…Thank you. For coming, for all you did to help me get better on the Big Island. I’ll keep you posted.”
“You’d better.” The petite psychologist hugged Lei fiercely. “Let me know what you decide. But I think you should decide soon.”
Chapter Forty-One
Lei and Anchara got out of the cab at Lei’s old address. Lei sucked in a breath at the sight of a pile of blackened rubble that was all that remained of their former home.
The cabbie, a kind-faced, older Portuguese man, frowned. “Sure this is the right place?”
“Yes. We’ll need a ride in about an hour,” Lei said through numb lips. The cabbie pulled away as the two women stared at the wreckage. A few bits of wooden wall still stood, sculpted along the edges with charcoal as if a black monster had reached down from above and eaten the heart out of the house in a few big bites. The grass was charred, and smoke scored the side of the propane tank.
Nothing appeared salvageable.
“Good thing the toolshed had those gardening boots,” Lei said. Anchara nodded. Both women wore rubber gloves and the boots. They had each chosen a pair of pants and a shirt to sacrifice, since they didn’t have any old clothes, and Lei was back in the foam collar. “I know where the kitchen was. Are you sure you want to help?”
“I like to help,” Anchara said. “What we looking for?”
“A ring. It’s valuable, and I have to at least try to find it.” Lei drew in another deep breath and stepped forward into the debris. “Follow me.”
The two women crunched forward. Lei tried not to think of the fire victims she’d seen in her career, curled and clawed as sinews in their bodies retracted. That could have been her and Stevens. The fire was over now, and they were safe—but the ring was unfinished business. She owed it to Stevens to try to find it.
The ring wouldn’t be here, lost in the ashes, if she’d been wearing it.
Lei stood at the steel door of the morgue and took a couple of relaxation breaths to calm herself. She’d continued on in the cab to the hospital on impulse after dropping Anchara off—her gut was telling her something. She’d stripped off the gloves and boots, but nothing could be done for the soot-streaked pair of stretch pants and T-shirt she’d ruined at the fire site.
She’d barely cleared the acrid tang of the fire out of her nostrils before coming, and getting her nose involved was a mistake—the morgue had a mouthwash-over-decomp scent that clung to the back of her throat like cobwebs. Morgues also carried memories of things she wished she’d never seen—friends, foes, and victims, all roadkill left by murder’s impact. She lifted her hand and knocked.
Dr. Gregory’s pale moon face appeared, and she held up her badge in case he’d forgotten her. He opened the door. Salsa music bounced off the tiled walls, and his cheery parrot-covered aloha shirt peeped out from behind a blood-spattered rubber apron.
“What can I do you for?”
“I’m here to see the Jane Doe.”
“Which one?”
“There’s more than one?” Lei came in, taking shallow mouth breaths as she followed him through the tables, carefully not looking at their contents. He moved with a confidence she didn’t remember seeing at the crash site to the bank of re
frigerated boxes, shiny as the hood of a new car.
“A few. We keep them a while, you know, before we cremate ’em. Give them a chance to be identified.”
“Of course.” She wondered who the other Jane Does were. Decided she couldn’t worry about more than one.
He popped the handle of one of the lower doors with a sound like a Coke can opening and rolled out the shelf. A shadowed shape lay before her in a clear plastic body bag. He unzipped it, a long ripping sound, almost drowned by the samba playing in the background. Almost, but not quite.
Lei pushed the foam collar around her neck down under her chin so she could look at the girl who’d started it all.
“What happened to you?” Dr. Gregory’s voice broke the spell cast by the girl’s perfect features, the blue eyes Lei remembered so well closed at last, transparent lids lying over them like bruised petals. Lei touched a vivid strand of the girl’s red hair.
“Car accident.”
“Most dangerous thing we do each day.” Dr. Gregory put on the magnifying glasses dangling around his neck to look at the body. “She was a brunette, you know.”
“Yeah. Skin doesn’t look like a redhead.”
“Hair either, if you know what I mean. So. What did you need?”
“I’m not sure. Just saying goodbye, I guess, now that the case is wrapping up. We think we know who her killer was.”
“Get your man?”
“A woman this time. And no. She seems to have gotten away.” Lei felt the regret and frustration in her voice. “She’s being pursued by the FBI and she’s on the Interpol watch lists. Someone’s going to get her.”
“Too bad. Well, good thing we have the broader law enforcement community to take the investigation outside little old Maui.”
