by Toby Neal
“Sure. I extracted it and cleaned it for you. No other interesting trace on the body.”
“Were you able to identify the birds? We have a meeting scheduled with the Hawaiian Bird Conservatory people who manage the Waikamoi Preserve, but this would give us a little advance notice,” Lei said.
Gregory rattled off the names of the birds in Hawaiian and Latin. Lei took notes but knew she wouldn’t remember the names without repetition—and it was unknown whether the type of bird they were had played a part in the crime. Still, the fact that the man was up there, on private conservation land, hunting them meant that, dead or alive, the birds were important.
“Thanks, Phil.” Lei jotted the names as best she could in her notebook.
“Happy to help. And happy to do anything I can to catch someone preying on our wildlife. So little of it, and so precious.”
“Well, I’ll take you hunting next time,” Pono said. “Can you handle a compound bow? We hunt for pig, axis deer, and goat. All of them good eating, and all of them ruining the native forest.”
“I’m not much of a shot, but I’d love to try,” Gregory said. “Let me make copies of some of this stuff for you.” With his usual attention to detail, the ME gave them individual photos of the bird bodies Lei had sent over with their names noted at the bottom, the man’s fingerprints, and the autopsy report. “Don’t forget to check with Interpol tomorrow on this.”
Back at the station, Lei sat at her desk and booted up her computer. She logged the arrow and autopsy report into the case and did some work on their other cases. One was a domestic violence murder and another a meth-production-related murder, both more common Maui crimes than the new bow hunter case. Before she knew it, the front desk clerk paged them that the biologists from the Hawaiian Bird Conservatory were in the conference room. Lei scooped up the case folder. “Do you have the video recorder?”
“Got it.” Pono waggled the small camera they used to video interviews. They found the two scientists in the conference room with its smoked-glass windows and whiteboards all around the walls. Both stood as Lei and Pono entered.
“Dr. Jud Snelling,” a tall, thin man said, shaking Lei’s hand. “I’m head of Hawaiian Bird Conservatory here on Maui.”
“Dr. Cam Rinker.” The other biologist, sandy-blond, also shook hands. “I’m head of the land management project at Waikamoi.”
Lei and her partner introduced themselves, and they all sat. “Mind if we tape this? Helps us if we need to go back for clarification about anything,” Pono said.
“No problem.” Snelling seemed to be in charge, by his posture and eye contact. “We were shocked to hear a man had been accidentally shot in the preserve.”
“We don’t know how accidental it was,” Lei said. “We think he might have been a poacher, catching native birds. He had a number of dead birds on his body, and we’d like your help verifying their species.”
She opened the folder, spread the photos that Gregory had identified out in front of the biologists. “Can you confirm that these are the species of birds that our medical examiner identified?”
Snelling and Rinker leaned forward, and Snelling jerked back, picking up the photo of the green bird with the yellow banding. “Oh my God. This is a Maui parrotbill!”
“All of these are rare, but these two are the most critically endangered.” Rinker tapped the mottled black-and-white bird with the crest and the hook-billed one Snelling still held.
“Can you confirm Latin and Hawaiian names of the birds noted on the bottom of these photos?” Lei asked. The biologist took the Sharpie she handed him. In a moment Rinker looked up. “These are identified correctly.”
“What can you tell us about what this man might have been doing and how he was doing it?” Lei took out the photos of the equipment the man had been carrying. The conservationists took their time, and finally, Snelling tapped the photo of the net wrapped around a stick and the recorder.
“This is probably how he caught the birds. The parrotbill, in particular, is very territorial—part of why it’s so endangered. Only one pair can live in any given area, and our most common way to trap the birds for banding is to play the song of another parrotbill. If there’s one in the area, it will be curious and come to investigate. Then we can catch it in these nets we string. They’re called mist nets because they’re almost invisible.”
“What about these other things?” Lei tapped the sticky wire, the needle-nosed bottle.
“These are other ways to capture birds. Except for the parrotbill, the birds you have displayed here are nectar feeders and do what we call trapline feeding, where they work their way over the outside of an ohia tree—you know, the one with the fluffy red flowers called lehua,” Snelling said. Lei thought of the red flowers, each a round burst of fine filaments. She nodded, and Snelling went on. “If a birder observes their nectar-gathering pathway, he can be pretty sure the bird will be coming back by within a few hours and working the same trapline after the flowers have regenerated their nectar. So he could string a sticky wire or put the glue on branches where the bird is likely to land and catch them that way.”
“Dr. Gregory said the birds were alive in the bag but eventually died of dehydration after the hunter was shot.” Snelling and Rinker both winced at this, and she felt echoes of that pain within herself. “What could be a reason to capture live birds of these types?”
“Perhaps—and it’s a best-case scenario, —for a private citizen to captive breed them. Or they could just be part of a collection, alive or dead. The ranger said there were some indications that the man responsible might not be a US citizen?”
Lei pinched her lips together. Takama and Jacobsen shouldn’t have been talking. “All we know for sure is that he had a Chinese passport.”
“Well, something you should know is how very passionate birders can be. Many birders come from all over the world, wanting to just spot a parrotbill in order to check it off their list of rare avians. It’s not too far of a stretch to imagine that some people might collect rare birds.”
“So this isn’t something you’ve come across before?”
“Well, the habitat and dietary needs of these birds are part of what makes them so rare. It makes breeding them in captivity, one of the ways one protects species, a tall order. The nectar feeders have to have these few types of flowers they will feed on, and the parrotbill, while an insect and bark feeder, has a preference for the koa tree, and as I mentioned earlier, it’s territorial with other birds. So keeping the birds alive would take considerable commitment. That makes stuffing them for a collection more likely.”
“It should be a crime,” Rinker said.
“You mean it’s not?” Pono’s eyebrows rose.
“Well, there are fines. But jail time? I’d be really surprised to see anything like that.” Snelling shook his head. “But you folks are law enforcement, so maybe you can tell me more about that.”
“Actually, we were hoping you could tell us more about the blind in the tree the man was shot from,” Lei said, turning the question back to him. “Were you aware of it? Are there any more blinds in the preserve area?”
Snelling cleared his throat. “Actually, yes. There are. We have noticed several of these hunting blinds throughout the conservation area. We’ve questioned our staff and volunteers; they all deny knowing who made them. What’s noteworthy is how cleverly they’re disguised to blend into the forest, how subtly the handholds and supports are done with found materials. We’ve also discovered evidence that someone may be living in the conservation area, but until now it didn’t seem urgent.”
Lei perked up at this. “What evidence?”
“Well. Whoever it is knows how to live rough. Just small signs, some singed plants showing a heat source was used, crushed bedding areas, a hand-dug latrine. Whoever it is just uses a bedroll, probably a camouflage tarp for rain, and a small gas cooker. Which means, at some point he or she has to go down the hill and resupply. There’s virtually nothing
up there to eat but a few berries and fern tips.”
Lei and Pono both made notes. “Can we track him?” Pono asked.
“I don’t know,” Snelling said, frowning. “We’ve been thinking this person might be some sort of birder, as the blinds are for bird-watching rather than hunting. Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with the case.”
“That’s for us to determine,” Lei said, with a smile to take the sting out of the words. “Let’s see if we can find this mysterious camper.”
“Well, we’d appreciate your help getting that person down out of the area in any case,” Snelling conceded.
“Sounds like a win-win. Let’s get this guy.” Pono’s eyes were wide and nostrils flared, his muscles bunched with excitement.
“One of our staff can guide you, or you can contact the rangers,” Snelling said.
“I think the Park Service is more appropriate for potential confrontation,” Lei said, standing and offering her hand to dismiss the biologists. “We’ll call you as soon as we know something or if we need more information.”
Pono had turned away, already working his phone to make the arrangements.
“We’re going up the mountain to hunt the camper tomorrow morning, four a.m., with Takama and Jacobsen.” Pono’s eyes gleamed, and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation as they reentered their cubicle. “I think once we get this guy, we’ll have some answers.”
“I’d like it better if you phrased it like, ‘looking for the person of interest in this case.’” They grinned at each other and Lei went on. “I think the bird hunter’s murder was a crime of opportunity. Someone was sitting in that blind when he or she saw the poacher and shot him, probably pissed anyone was stealing those birds. The camper might have nothing at all to do with this murder. We don’t have any trace tying the camper to the body, or even to the blind.”
“That illegal camper up in the forest made the blind and did the poacher,” Pono retorted. “We just have to prove it.” He took a sip of the coffee, scowled, and rubbed his mustache. “These bird people. You don’t know them like I do from hunting. They’re crazy for those birds; will do anything to protect them.”
“Maybe so, and I’m beginning to understand the birding craze a little more.” Lei had been doing some searches on bird watching and other avian interest activities. “People seem to really get into it. There are these lists of birds, regionally and around the world, and birders try to spot them and check them off. It’s like hunting, but without the killing. I just don’t know that catching the camper up there is going to do anything for our case one way or the other.”
“I think it will.”
Lei shrugged. “Okay. Any excuse to go back up there to the cloud forest is fine with me. It’s a beautiful place and outside the office.”
They walked down to the impound lot and began processing the vehicle that had been towed down, starting with Pono jimmying the door.
Lei was just snapping on her flashlight to look around inside when her holstered phone rang. She checked the little window on the phone and answered for Marcella, turning to walk a few steps away from the vehicle.
“I hope you have good news about the dress.”
“I do! You got lucky, and one of the designers I called had a reschedule and can take on the project. I have a measurement and discussion session scheduled for four thirty today.”
“Oh, thank God. Did she have a lot of questions? Because I told you I don’t really have any idea what I want or what will look good…” Lei’s eyes wandered over the corrugated green folds of Iao Valley directly in front of her, registering the beauty without seeing it.
“Yes. I told her you are the clueless bride type, and we’ve already had a lengthy Skype session. I forwarded her some pictures of you so she could see your coloring and body type. The dress is mostly designed, and all the fabric choices are picked out. She just needs to measure you and get a load of what she’s dealing with.”
“Funny. That was exactly the phrase Tiare used when talking about getting my hair done. Is it very expensive?” Lei asked. setting the box on the well-lit steel counter outside the evidence room. They needed to inventory the contents before going any further.
“Not too bad because it’s a simple design without much embellishment, but we chose a really good fabric, so that’s a little pricey. No worries, though. This is from Marcus and me and my parents as a gift.”
“Oh my God, really? That’s too much.” Lei and Stevens had some savings, but the wedding and whatever mysterious honeymoon Stevens had planned was sure to wipe them out.
“No arguing. It’s done. Just cooperate, okay? And try to enjoy yourself. So what’s happening with your case?”
“We found the victim’s belongings abandoned at the Maui Beach Hotel. Checking his car left on top of the mountain now. I should go.”
“Well, call me when you meet with the designer, I want to hear about everything. And keep me posted on this case. We’re noticing some funny activity around the Chinese consulate.”
“Like what?”
“Can’t say right now, and it may be nothing or completely unrelated. What’s the guy’s name?”
“Chang. Small world, right?”
A long pause as Lei listened to the silence of the FBI agent’s mind working.
“I don’t think he could be one of your Changs,” Marcella finally said. “It’s a common name.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling myself.” Lei punched Off.
Pono looked back at her over his shoulder. “I thought of that when I saw the guy’s name.”
“The Changs are over now that Healani died,” Lei said.
“That’s not what the ‘coconut wireless’ is saying from the Big Island,” Pono said. “Seems the grandson Terence Chang has stepped up now that Grandma’s gone.”
“Too bad.” Lei leaned into the backseat, shining her light around and suppressing an inward shudder at the memory of the young man’s narrowed eyes shooting hate at her on her last FBI bust. “Looks clean back here.”
“Yeah, I’m not finding anything up here either.” Pono withdrew. “Not sure what we’re looking for, anyway.”
“Maybe just some more idea of who this man was, what he was doing up there.” Lei straightened up and slammed the door. “Let’s have them move this vehicle into the garage area in case we need to do a trace search on it. Right now I don’t think it has anything to tell us about who shot its driver with a bow.” They headed back to the guard’s kiosk, and after putting in the order to have the car moved, headed back toward the main building.
“Good news. I have a dress fitting today. Marcella set it up,” Lei said.
Pono looked over at her. “Good girl. I’ll report to Tiare that you aren’t going to show up naked after all.”
Lei smiled, but it felt more like a grimace. She still wished it was just her and Stevens going to the courthouse.
Chapter Seven
After a full afternoon processing evidence, Lei arrived at a modest storefront location in old town Wailuku marked Ohana Wedding Design in curlicue script on the mirrored front door. She pressed down on the brass handle and stepped hesitantly inside as a door alarm chimed.
The showroom lighting was dim. Spotlights were aimed at fully dressed bridal mannequins standing on silvery gray carpet in various poses. A scent of vanilla pervaded the room, and Lei sniffed appreciatively, glancing around. A satin curtain parted, and a woman stepped through it. She was petite and blonde, and she clapped her hands at the sight of Lei, lively brown eyes alight.
“You’re even prettier than your friend told me you would be! Like my vanilla aromatherapy? Supposed to help brides feel calmer. I’m Estelle. Come on back to my workroom.”
Encouraged by Estelle’s friendly greeting, Lei followed the designer through a connecting door into a bright workshop on the other side. Sewing machines, drafting tables, and bolts of fabric in stacks lined the walls. Estelle walked around Lei, looking her over.
> “Your friend Marcella faxed over a design sketch, and I can see she was right with what she’s suggesting. You have a wonderful athletic figure, and this dress will really set it off.”
“Thank you,” Lei said. “Can I see the sketch?”
“Not yet. I have to measure you first,” Estelle said. “We may need to make some modifications. Step behind that curtain and remove your clothing down to underwear.”
Lei obeyed and came out to stand on a carpet-covered dais at Estelle’s direction, wearing nothing but her plain white bra and panties. The woman used a flexible measuring tape to measure Lei’s neck, arms, bust, waist, hips, and upper thighs, muttering all the while.
“I feel like one of your mannequins,” Lei said, lifting her arms as the designer measured around Lei’s flat abdomen.
“Almost done,” Estelle said, tightening the tape around Lei’s hipbones. The woman straightened and wound the tape up. “Okay. Come over here and check out the sketches your friend sent. I’m going to modify them a little for your proportions, but I think this will be a great design for your body, and since you’re Japanese, Hawaiian, and Portuguese, according to Marcella, a nod to your heritage as well.”
Lei followed Estelle to the drafting table, and Estelle fanned the simple drawings out. Lei gazed at the sketches, and her hand came up to cover her mouth. Her eyes filled.
“I can’t wait to see it,” she whispered.
“The silhouette is like a calla lily, and with your figure, that’s just what you’ll look like. So you like it?”
“Oh yes.”
“Requires you to have your hair up. I have someone excellent if you need someone to do your hair for the big day.”
“I think my planner has someone for me to call. I love it. Marcella knows me so well.”
“I’ve got my team starting on this today. We’ll just need you to come back for a final fitting the day before the wedding.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Lei left for home, feeling the gratitude she’d begun to experience so often in the last few years. Life was rich now that she’d been letting friends and family get close to her—so much that sometimes she felt overwhelmed. She even wished, thinking of the details of the dress that hinted at her Japanese ancestry, that her mother had been alive to see this day.
