Paradise Crime Mysteries

by Toby Neal

  “Where were you when this went on?”

  “I just stood there, after they left. There wasn’t anything I could do really. I don’t know if the baby was alive. Pono had gotten there by then. He can tell you.”

  “Is it your baby?” Omura’s question was soft but had all the sting of a lash as it sawed across his consciousness.

  He shook his head, buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I don’t see how.”

  “When was the last time you had relations with Anchara Mookjai? Sexual relations?”

  “The morning she left, like I said.”

  “And when was that?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t think. But if you want to do a paternity test on the baby, I consent.”

  “Stop. You’re not thinking clearly,” Shimoda said, holding up a hand. “You don’t have to agree to this.”

  “I do. She was my wife!” He pounded his chest with each word. “I didn’t love her, but she was my wife, and if that’s my child, I will do right by him as best I can!”

  “If you insist, but it’s against my advice,” Shimoda said. Omura made a note that Stevens consented to the paternity test and pushed it over to him. Stevens signed it.

  “So then what happened?” Omura went on.

  “I tried to call Lei. I tried and tried. She didn’t pick up. I went outside when the crime techs arrived to help process the scene.”

  “All right. Let’s get a timeline of events.” Omura looked down at her pad. “Let’s use your wedding to Lei as a starting point, since we all know that date, and work back from there.” After rehashing various events, they established that there was a physical possibility the child was Stevens’s.

  “Anchara and I only stayed in touch with email. She never called, and I didn’t see her after the day she left. She very clearly wanted to move on from the marriage,” Stevens said.

  “So did you ever abuse her?” Omura slid it in like a knife between his ribs.

  “You’re kidding, right?” He pinned Omura with a hard gaze. “She’d been a sex slave. She’d been abused in ways I can’t imagine. I married her to help her, not hurt her more.”

  “And yet that’s what you did,” Omura said. “You just told us you didn’t love Anchara. You hurt her when you married another woman, the woman you loved all along.”

  A long pause. Stevens couldn’t think of what to say. It was the ugly truth, if not all of it.

  “I advise my client not to respond,” Shimoda said. “I believe this is sufficient for an initial interview.”

  Stevens ignored him, still focused on Omura. “I cared for Anchara. But not the way she wanted to be loved or deserved to be loved.”

  A long moment passed, raw and charged with the trifecta of grief, guilt, and regret he thought he’d carry forever now.

  “Did you kill Anchara?” Omura’s voice was a samurai sword slicing through silk.

  “No. I tried to save her. I tried to save her!” Stevens felt his words coming out hard and tried to soften them. “In every way, I tried to save her. But I couldn’t.” And then, to his humiliation, his eyes welled with tears. He put his hands over his face. The tears burned like acid on his hands.

  Chapter Eight

  Lei finally picked up her phone after she’d stripped out of the coverall down to her jog bra and Lycra shorts. She was dismayed to see multiple calls from Stevens, but no voicemail. Pono had left a message. “Something’s happened. Come to the station immediately.”

  She looked up after trying to call Stevens back, but his phone was off. Torufu, also stripped down to sweat-soaked swim trunks, had his phone to his ear. He turned worried brown eyes on her.

  “We have to get back to the station,” she said.

  He put the phone down and started the van. “You got that right.”

  “What is it? Stevens tried to call but didn’t leave a message, and Pono just said to get back to base.”

  “Then we better get back to base.”

  That’s when Lei knew it was really bad.

  She and Torufu parked the ordnance retrieval van and jogged to the locker rooms. Lei’s heart was thundering and she refused to let her frantic mind wonder what had happened—the possibilities were too endless, and terrible, and the list started with Stevens injured or dead.

  She’d stowed the clothes she wore to work that morning in her employee locker, but the sweat had been so bad, she took five minutes to shower before dressing. She took the stairs up from the locker room at a run and met Pono at the top—Torufu must have called him.

  “Come into my office.” He sat her down on Gerry’s empty chair. “I’m going to tell you quickly because they’re interviewing him now, and I know you’ll want to hear.”

  “Who?”

  “Stevens. Anchara was found murdered this afternoon. He was at the scene, covered with blood. Says she was stabbed before he got there and he was trying to save her. And she was nine months pregnant.”

  Lei kept her eyes on her ex-partner’s square, handsome Hawaiian face, hyperfocused on his wide nose and full, finely cut lips. He had new crow’s feet she’d never noticed before beside his dark brown eyes. There were a couple of threads of gray in his thick black hair. These tiny details anchored her while she tried to process what he was saying. “Okay.”

  “They’re looking at him for the murder,” Pono said.

  “Of course they are. She’s his ex. His pregnant ex.” Lei was surprised at how calm her voice was. In fact, she felt nothing right now—nothing but ice around her heart.

  “Did you know Anchara was pregnant?”

  “No.”

  “But Stevens says you saw her at the wedding. He says he never spotted her.”

  “I did. But only her face, and she was way in the back. She was wearing a big hat.” Lei remembered that moment when their eyes had locked across the crowd, and Anchara had nodded, smiled, and given her blessing. “She was wearing something caftan-ish. I couldn’t see anything, if that’s what you’re asking me. She was okay with us getting married.”

  “Well, apparently she wasn’t okay. She called Stevens twice asking him to come to the Valley Isle Motel, and when he got there...” Pono’s voice trailed off as McGregor, a large red-faced detective from California, appeared in the doorway.

  “Prepping our witness, Kaihale?” he asked. “Texeira, you’re getting interviewed next.”

  Lei stood. “I believe I have an alibi for the time in question. I can be viewed on KHIN 2 News, removing an explosive at the Maui Mall.”

  “We still have questions for you.” McGregor took her arm. She yanked it away, giving him stink eye as she strode down the hall toward the interview rooms.

  She got far enough ahead to peek into the glass windows until she spotted Stevens, dressed in prison orange, flanked by Shimoda and Bendes—and Captain Omura’s sleek bob in the foreground.

  Lei hit the push-down handle of the door and barged in.

  Stevens had his hands over his face, but at the intrusion, he dropped them—and Lei saw an ocean of grief in eyes made even bluer than usual by tears. She took three running steps across the room, knocking the chair away from the table as she embraced him with all the strength in her body.

  Stevens’s long corded arms encircled her and drew her down onto his lap. He buried his face in her wet hair.

  “Texeira!” Captain Omura rapped on the table. “You are disturbing an official interview!”

  “I think we can take a tiny break,” Shimoda said, and he got up and walked over to turn off the recording equipment.

  Chapter Nine

  “Are you okay?” Lei whispered into Stevens’s ear.

  “No.”

  “Is it your baby?”

  “Maybe.”

  “We’ll get through this together.” She kissed his closed, unresponsive mouth. She knew how many eyes were on them, and she didn’t care. All she wanted was for Stevens to know that she had his back. He squeezed her tight in that way he did, an
d she felt his pain in the fine trembling of his big hard body.

  “That’s quite enough, Texeira,” Omura said. “You can go with McGregor. He’ll be interviewing you next door.”

  Lei straightened up. Stevens opened his eyes. They blazed with powerful, suppressed emotion. “I tried to save her. But I was too late.”

  “I believe you,” Lei said, and saw him sag with relief.

  She followed McGregor and Chun out and down the hall to the next interview room.

  “I waive my right to counsel and union representation,” Lei said to McGregor, and sat down. “What do you want to ask me?”

  What followed was the verbal equivalent of two pit bulls squaring off in the ring—making charges, tussling, retreating. Doing it again. Finally, Lei smacked her hand on the table. “We’re covering the same ground. No, neither of us knew Anchara was pregnant, let alone if it’s Stevens’s baby. Neither of us saw her except for when I spotted her at our wedding. I had no contact with her; nor did I know where she lived or what she was doing. Do I have any idea who might want to kill her? No. But I do know there’s someone out there who wants both of us dead.” And she told McGregor about the shrouds.

  McGregor glanced at his silent partner, Keith Chun, a wiry older man. “Did you guys start a case for these threats?”

  Lei nodded. “Talk to Pono. He’s been handling that since it happened.”

  “Can you check this out?” McGregor asked Chun, who nodded and left.

  “What were the shrouds like, specifically?”

  Lei shut her eyes, remembering the cardboard box containing them that the perp had sent to her dad and Aunty Rosario. “White unbleached linen, about a yard wide by twenty feet long. They’re in the evidence room.”

  As McGregor made a note, Lei saw a flare of his eyes that signaled he was excited about something. “What?” she asked. “Was there something at the scene that ties in?”

  “You know I can’t discuss that with you.”

  “Well, I don’t have to discuss this with you either. I was just leaving, unless you have some charges to bring?” She stood and kept eye contact with the older man. She’d heard he was good, if new to the islands and their unique police work challenges.

  A long beat went by. She saw McGregor waver, almost telling her whatever it was, but finally he flicked his fingers and looked down at his notepad. “We’ll be in touch.”

  Lei wished the interview room door would bang behind her, but it was on a pneumatic hinge so there was no such satisfaction. She looked into the room with Stevens, and it was empty. Her stomach twisted.

  She hurried to Captain Omura’s office. Her boss was typing rapidly when she opened the door. “Don’t make a habit of barging in here, or anywhere, Texeira. I’ll write you up next time,” Omura snapped, without taking her eyes off her monitor.

  Lei shut the door. “Why did you take Pono and Gerry off the case?”

  “You know why. Pono’d run and tell you everything. We have to rule you both out and run a clean investigation.”

  Lei knew that, but she couldn’t help battling a feeling of betrayal. “Do you really think either of us had anything to do with Anchara’s death? Because if so, here’s my badge.” She took the shiny, heavy metal medallion off her belt and smacked it down on the desk.

  Omura finally looked away from her screen. “Really? You’re making this personal? Both of you had motive to do that poor woman in. Fortunately, you are very publicly alibied—but Stevens could have done it, and we cannot have even a hint of favoritism or cover-up with this case. It’s a gruesome, heinous murder with a baby involved—tabloid news heaven!” Omura threw her hands up. “So please. Keep your badge, do your job, and shore up your husband—but stay out of the investigation or you’ll be suspended. I already put Stevens on admin leave for a couple days.”

  “On what basis? The news will get hold of that and run with it, implying he’s guilty!” Lei exclaimed.

  “On the basis of emergency family leave,” Omura said, and her dark eyes were filled with compassion as Lei absorbed the body blow that Anchara’s baby was also Stevens’s.

  Lei grabbed the back of one of the hard plastic chairs and collapsed into it. “So I guess the baby made it.”

  “Yes. He’s in Kapiolani Hospital over on Oahu. They helicoptered him out to the neonatal unit there. He was deprived of oxygen, and they still don’t know how badly it affected him—but the paternity test was positive. He’s Stevens’s son.”

  “Oh, God.” Lei dropped her face into her hands. “This is so unreal. Poor Anchara.” Lei felt her chest heave with grief she wanted to let out—she’d liked Anchara, once upon a time. Admired her courage, tenacity, and her will to survive. She’d only stopped liking her when Stevens had married the Thai woman. “We’ll have to take the baby. And just when we were thinking of getting started with our own family.”

  “What?” Omura frowned. “I just assigned you to the bomb squad.”

  “I know. And I was wondering how to tell you and what to do about it. But it’s a moot point now.”

  “So. Tell me you aren’t already pregnant.”

  “Couple of weeks and I’ll know.”

  Omura leaned toward her and tapped her pen on the desk. “I’m as feminist as the next woman. You know that. But I don’t think bomb squad is the place for a pregnant woman—it’s a very physical detail, as you know, and more stressful. I’d like you to consider light duty when and if you do start your family.”

  “That won’t be happening with Stevens bringing home a baby right now.” Lei’s eyes prickled with tears. Having two babies that close together? Didn’t make a whole lot of sense.

  “Well, keep me posted in any case. Torufu tells me you did well at the Maui Mall ordnance retrieval incident today.”

  “That suit in the heat wasn’t fun. I’ll be honest, Captain. I’ve been struggling with this. Wondering if I’m the right person for the job.”

  Omura’s black-olive eyes narrowed. “Sounds like I ought to be on the lookout for a replacement.”

  “I just—I don’t know. You need someone with nerves of steel who can really focus. A lot of times, I struggle with that. Torufu’s great that way. He says what I’m good at is locating the devices, interviewing the witnesses—the police work end of it. It’s early days, but I wanted to tell you I’m not a hundred percent sure. And for this job, you should be a hundred percent.”

  Omura looked back at her monitor, and Lei felt the captain’s disappointment in her averted gaze. “Duly noted. And if you’re looking for your husband, I sent him home.” She resumed typing, and Lei knew she was dismissed. She slipped out the door and shut it softly behind her. She had one more stop to make.

  Lei jogged to Pono and Gerry’s cubicle, stepped in, and closed the door. Both of them looked up from their computers.

  “We aren’t supposed to talk to you,” Bunuelos said.

  “Guys, I need to know what you found in the room with Anchara that connects to the shroud threats,” Lei said. “I know there’s something, because when I told McGregor about the shrouds, he about shit a brick. Pono, I told him to ask you about our shroud case.”

  “Yeah. He came by.” Pono inclined his head. “Anchara was lying on a length of white, unbleached linen, three feet by twenty feet long, folded up on top of the bed beneath her body. Sound familiar?”

  “Oh my God. But this should clear Stevens!”

  “Not necessarily. It could be argued he set it up to look that way. The knife used on her had no prints on it, so Stevens not picking it up doesn’t help one way or the other.” Pono’s eyebrows were knit in concern. “More important—did you hear the paternity test came back?”

  “Yeah. Omura told me.”

  “What do you think about it?”

  “I think a newborn baby needs a home,” Lei said. “I think we’ll do the right thing and give it to him.” She squelched the inner voice screaming that she didn’t want to raise Anchara’s baby, at a time she hadn’t expecte
d to, without any preparation whatsoever. Anchara’s baby with Stevens. Not hers. And just when she’d been wrapping her head around having her own child with the man she loved.

  The baby would forever remind them both of that first, ill-fated marriage. Poor Anchara. Murdered, about to give birth, all alone—and she hadn’t so much as asked for a diaper from Stevens. It was all so wrong; it was hard to figure out where to begin to untangle her feelings. But Lei knew the right thing to do. “The baby needs a home, and we’re his family. All that’s happened—it’s not the baby’s fault,” she said emphatically, and she knew the person she was trying to convince was herself.

  Chapter Ten

  Stevens got in the shower the minute he got home. He washed his hair three times. He scrubbed his skin from head to toe with a washcloth until he was the red of a boiled lobster, and then he did it again.

  He felt the shock unlocking slowly, and under the fall of water, he sat on the plastic bench they’d inherited with the oversized shower and wept for Anchara. Wept for the brave woman he’d married, with her indomitable will and fierce need for freedom. The one woman who’d escaped from the sex slavers who’d held her prisoner and lived off the land until she could find help. Anchara, the woman who’d testified fearlessly in court and helped shut down the ring of prostitution operating out of cruise ships. Anchara, the woman he’d married in a moment of impulsive need—a desire to help and a need to forget Lei.