by Toby Neal
“Well, for someone who likes clear rules, you sure knew how to break them. Remember prom?” Her aunt held up a photo of Lei in a white dress uniform standing beside a scared-looking boy in a tux.
Lei had been surprised to be asked to prom at all. He’d been a shy boy who’d had a crush on her for years. She decided to go so as not to miss out on a high school ritual, and she’d worn her Reserve Officers’ Training Corps uniform, a high school training elective that focused on preparing college-bound students as officers for the army. “I was proud of being in ROTC. I didn’t see anything weird about it until I got there and saw everyone else was in dresses.”
“That boy had such a crush on you, but I don’t think he said a word all night.”
“He didn’t. I didn’t, either. It was a disaster. Really added to the rumors I was gay.”
“I didn’t know that was going on.”
Lei shrugged. “I punched out the girls who started the rumors. They stopped. Anyway, I’m glad I went to the police academy instead of the army,” Lei said, gluing in the final photo, one of her in uniform, graduating from the police academy. “I wonder what happened to the first nine years of my life. Now that we’re having our own family, I guess I wish I had a little more record of growing up.”
“I don’t know, Sweets.” Her aunt yawned, her hands fluttering on the spread. “You didn’t come to me with anything but a suitcase. I have a few baby photos of you I took and some that Wayne sent me before he went to prison.” She gestured to the dresser. “Top drawer. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to take a little nap.” And that suddenly, she was asleep.
Lei had to lean in close to see if Aunty’s bony chest was rising and falling. Very small movement, but it was. She got up and opened the top dresser drawer, taking out a small cardboard box.
She tiptoed out of the room and sorted through the pictures, feeling the bittersweet squeeze of grief as she looked at her mother’s fresh, young, beautiful face beside her own: straight black hair beside curly brown. Lei’s eyes were tilted like her mother’s, but were larger and the golden-brown color her father and aunt shared. Her family tree was truly multicultural.
That blend would be even more mixed in a child she and Stevens would have. Would the child have straight hair or curly? Round eyes or almond-shaped? Brown, green, or blue? They’d just have to wait to find out, just as they would to see what baby Kiet ended up looking like.
Lei stacked the photos together and put them in the box just as her father returned. “Brought you your favorite,” he said. “Beef stew and poi rolls.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Suddenly her upset stomach rumbled with hunger. “That sounds perfect. Aunty just fell asleep.”
“The nurse is coming by in a few hours to do her daily care,” Wayne said. “How was the photo album project?”
“Great. It really seemed to take her back in time. She told me stories about when I came to live with her that I barely remembered. But I was wondering—do you know where any more photos might be, from my first nine years? With you and Mom?”
Wayne looked down as he served the stew from a round cardboard carton. “I’m sorry, Sweets. I remember Maylene had a baby book for you, but after I went to prison, I don’t know what happened to anything.”
“I don’t know either. At some point—after they took you away—we lost so much. Started living in cheap rentals with lots of other people. Mom was using drugs every day she could get them. I don’t remember anything in those rooms but my toys and clothes in one suitcase.”
“You know, we’ve hardly talked about that time before,” he said. “It hurts to hear how my screw-ups affected you.”
“Water under the bridge,” Lei said, as he handed her a bowl of stew. “I would like to have more pictures, though.”
“I wish I had them for you.” Wayne sat down beside her, folded his calloused hands. “Bless this food to our bodies, Lord. And bless my daughter and her family.” He smiled at her and dug in with his spoon. Lei followed suit, suddenly ravenous.
When they’d eaten, Lei prepared a bowl on a tray for her aunt and peeked back in on her. Rosario opened her eyes. “Oh, there you are.”
“You took a little nap.” Lei came in with the tray. “Please eat a few bites.”
“I’m still full from breakfast.”
“Come on, Aunty. I saw how little you ate this morning.” Lei pushed a second pillow behind her aunt, helping her sit upright. “How are you feeling?”
“A little better.” And Rosario did look better, a little more color in her cheeks. Lei set the tray over her legs and she lifted the spoon, spilling some but eating.
“I’m going back to the restaurant. You girls have fun,” Wayne said from the doorway.
“Thanks for the stew, Dad,” Lei said. He nodded and left.
Rosario ate a few more bites, then pushed it away. “I want to tell you something,” she said. “It’s time for me to get it off my chest.”
“What?” Lei cleared the tray, setting it on top of the bureau and getting in bed beside her aunt. “You had so many good stories this morning. I had a wonderful childhood after I came to you.”
“I did the best I could.” Rosario took Lei’s hand, smoothed the back of it with her own silky-soft palm. “But I told you before. I made mistakes.”
“Yes. Keeping my father’s letters from me. But that’s all in the past.”
“That wasn’t the only one. I’m talking about that phone number in your grandmother Yumi’s things that got you in all that trouble.”
Lei straightened up, turned so she could see her aunt’s face. “What do you know about that?” Last year, a phone number for Bozeman, the assassin who’d killed her childhood molester, Charlie Kwon, had turned up in Lei’s deceased grandmother’s collectible box.
“Your father told me about the trouble you were in with the FBI’s internal affairs because of it.”
“Yeah, it was a scary time.” Lei almost shuddered, remembering the investigation into her past and how close she’d come to being charged with Kwon’s murder.
“Well...I have a confession to make. I guess it counts as a deathbed confession.” Rosario laughed, a damp chuckle. “Your grandmother Yumi contacted me. She had found the hit man’s number, and I was the one to call it. I sent her money, and she paid Bozeman over there on Oahu when the job was done.”
Lei recoiled, jumping up off the bed. “Aunty! You’re telling me you...you and my grandmother hired Bozeman?”
“We didn’t agree on much, your grandmother and I...but on Charlie Kwon, we agreed. The man was sick. He raped little girls. Some dogs just need to be put down before they bite again.” She plucked at the hand-sewn Hawaiian quilt that covered her lap, looking down.
“Holy shit.” Lei sat down hard on the chair beside the bed.
“Told you I wasn’t perfect. You can charge me if you need to.”
“Aunty, oh my God. How can you put me in a position like this?” Lei felt her vision narrowing in a return of her PTSD symptoms, and she pinched her own leg, hard, to ground herself. She picked up her aunt’s hand, squeezed it in both her own. “Kwon was a terrible man. It’s just not how things should be done.” Lei’s mind flashed to her own confrontation with Kwon, the man on his knees before her, the Glock wobbling in her gloved hands
“I know. But I can’t bring myself to regret he’s dead. No price was too high to pay to make sure no little girl ever went through what you did.” Rosario stroked Lei’s hair. “I’m tired again. So exhausted today. Let me know if you’re turning me in to the cops.”
“Oh, Aunty.” Lei sat up. “I need some time to take this in. To think of what to do.”
Rosario’s eyes filled with sorrow as she gazed at Lei. “Don’t take too long.” And her eyes shut again.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Stevens finished updating Omura about the attack on Mahoe. “I need a judge’s signature on this arrest warrant due to Awapuhi’s high profile,” the captain said. “I’m faxin
g it to him now, but I don’t know when he’ll get it back to me.”
“I’ll go back to the hospital,” Stevens said. “Keep an eye on Brandon. We know where Awapuhi is. We should have all our ducks in a row with a guy like him.”
“I want a couple of units to go out with you when you arrest Awapuhi. No telling what kind of response he’s going to have.”
“Makes me wonder why he went after Brandon like that. Surely he must have known there would be blowback from us.”
“I don’t know. According to your witness, he stopped the beating before it was terminal, but it was still very severe, and he knew Brandon was a police officer. To me, this signals a change from minimal cooperation with MPD to outright warfare. I have no intention of sweeping Mahoe’s beating under the rug.”
“Thanks.” Stevens held her eyes. “I appreciate it. I feel responsible.”
“We both took a chance sending him in there. It’s on me, too.” She smoothed her sleek bob back behind her ears. “Now, get back to the hospital, and take a fruit basket to the mother from MPD, why don’t you? Gather your arrest team and be ready for my call.”
“Yes, sir.” Stevens hurried off down the hall, already working his phone to alert Ferreira, Torufu, Pono, and Gerry Bunuelos, along with a couple of backup patrol units, for when the warrant was ready.
On the way to the hospital, he phoned Lei. “I love you,” he said when she answered. “There. That’s out of the way.”
“I’m glad you called. Something’s come up.” Lei’s voice sounded thin and stressed. “Let me get some privacy.”
“While you’re getting that, I need to tell you we’ve had a break in the case—or not really, there’s nothing direct—but you remember Brandon Mahoe, the recruit I sent undercover? He was severely beaten. He’s in a coma.”
“No, Michael! That’s terrible!”
“Yeah. We have a witness that says Awapuhi fingered him as a snitch and then everyone attacked him. What I’m wondering is, why that response? So many other ways they could have handled it, kept him out of anything important, fed him false information. In fact, the one thing he did give us, a tip on Magda Kennedy, dead-ended right way.”
“Maybe Brandon’ll have more to say when he wakes up.”
“Yeah. So I’m going back to the hospital, waiting on the arrest warrants for Awapuhi. So what did you need to tell me?”
He heard her sigh. Even as he drove he could picture her putting the phone against her shoulder, squeezing the web between her thumb and forefinger, one of her stress management techniques. “It’s about Aunty. And there’s something else.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Not good, but she perked up a bit after I got here. She told me something today. Something big. I’m having trouble deciding what to do.”
He just waited, the speakerphone in its holder emitting a tinny buzzing, as he stopped at a light.
“She told me that she and my grandmother, Yumi Matsumoto, hired the hit on Kwon.”
“No shit!” Stevens exclaimed, his foot coming down too hard on the accelerator so that the truck leaped forward as the light changed. “That’s messed up. Thought those two hated each other!” Lei’s Japanese mother had broken with her family to marry paniolo Wayne Texeira when she was only eighteen. Rosario, Wayne’s sister, had resented Maylene’s parents’ judgmental attitude, especially after Lei was without a guardian at age nine and the Matsumotos made no effort to reach out or support their grandchild.
“After Kwon got out of prison, according to Aunty, my grandmother contacted her with the hit man’s number. Yumi couldn’t be bothered to contact me, but she finds my aunt and proposes they kill the man who raped me as a child?” Stevens could mentally see Lei’s head shake. “It is messed up. But they did it together. Yumi found the hit man, Rosario paid for the hit, and Yumi delivered the money when it was done. Now Yumi’s dead and Aunty’s dying.”
A long pause. Stevens pulled in to the hospital. “Other than agreeing with you that it’s messed up, what’s your question?”
“If I should turn Aunty in for hiring Bozeman.”
Stevens snorted. “What’s the point?”
“It’s the right thing to do.”
“Call Marcus. It was his case. Throw yourself on his mercy and see what he says.”
“I’m tired of throwing myself on his mercy.”
Stevens knew she’d had to do that the year before in trying to get herself cleared of suspicion in Kwon’s murder. “Well, as you say, it’s his case, and it’s closed now. His team decided not to try to track Bozeman’s clients. So I’d just call Marcus, see if he thinks any further action should be taken against Rosario. I’m guessing none will be merited.”
Lei sighed. “I love you. Let’s talk longer when you have more time.”
“You said there was something else.”
“No. I’ll tell you when I’m home. Stay safe.”
“I’ll do my best.” He hung up and parked the truck in the sprawling lot. Inside the hospital, he bought a basket of fruit and flowers and charged it to the MPD reimbursement card he used for departmental expenses. Brandon Mahoe had been moved, and Stevens found him in a private room a few floors up.
Mrs. Mahoe greeted Stevens, setting down a lapful of crocheting. “You came back.”
He held up the flower-studded fruit basket. “With Maui Police Department’s best wishes. I don’t know how long I can stay, but I wanted to keep you company while I could.”
“Thank you.” She appeared calmer, taking the basket and setting it on the wide windowsill. “They seem to think he’s going to be okay, but it’s hard to tell with head injuries.”
“I know.” Stevens took a chair beside the bed. Brandon appeared as inert as before, the strong young body slack on the bed, his color yellowish. Monitors beside the bed beeped steadily. “Why don’t you take a break? Go make some phone calls, get a snack.”
She considered this a long moment and finally stood. “I’ll go down to the cafeteria.”
“Good. I’ll sit with him.”
She left. Stevens glanced over at the young man on the bed. It felt like he’d been running full speed ever since he came back to Maui from Oahu, and this was the first moment he was sitting quietly, just being with someone. That made him remember Kiet.
He took out his phone and thumbed to a photograph of the baby. The boy’s changeable eyes were open, his little face serious, that thatch of black hair comically upright like the crest on a bird. He’d taken the photo for Lei, and in all the chaos of the night before she left for California, he’d never shown it to her.
He texted the photo to her: Kiet Edward Mookjai Stevens. It’s on his birth certificate.
Almost immediately she texted back, Thanks. I wondered what he looked like. Cute! What color are his eyes? Is that gray?
To be determined, Stevens texted back. But probably brown, hazel, or green.
He’s going to be gorgeous.
Of course.
It felt good to have this moment, even sharing the trace of proud humor with her that he felt. He slid the phone back into his pocket, looked up, and was surprised to see Mahoe’s eyes were open.
“You’re awake.”
“Hi, boss.” Mahoe’s voice was scratchy, but his eyes looked clear as he gazed around the room.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fuzzy. Head’s sore.”
“You were in a coma, and I thought you were going to be out for quite a while.” Stevens poured some water into a plastic cup from the carafe by the bed and held it for the young man to drink. Mahoe finished the cupful thirstily.
“Gotta admit, you aren’t who I expected at my bedside,” Mahoe said. “Where’s Mom?”
“She went down to the cafeteria for a minute. She’s been by your side every other minute.” Stevens handed the young man another cup of water.
“You’ll be glad to know we’ve got a warrant in process for Awapuhi. Gonna pick him up as soon as the order comes
through.”
“Awapuhi?” Mahoe looked confused, frowning. He shut his eyes.
“Yeah. Charles Awapuhi, the Heiau Hui leader. Your friend Mana Guinamo told us he saw the whole thing.”
Mahoe’s eyes popped open and he tried to get up, falling back in agitation. “You mean he was the one who beat me!”
“What?” Stevens felt his brows snap together. “He told us the whole story, how he fought the Hui leaders off to save you.”
“He’s the one who did it!” Brandon’s face congested and his mouth worked. Alarmed, Stevens pushed him back against the pillows, restraining Mahoe gently.
“Take it easy,” Stevens said. “Go slow. Take all the time you need.” He took his phone out and thumbed it to the audio feature. “I’m going to record this.”
Brandon’s throat worked, and for a moment Stevens was afraid the young man was collapsing again, but instead tears welled in his eyes. “Mana’s been my friend my whole life. He really got into the Hui thing and was all excited I got involved. But then I overheard him talking with another guy—Red Toaman. Red and him, they been making trouble since we were in junior high. Anyway, I overheard them talking about ‘doing the Norwegian.’”
“You mean the murder vic found in that Wailuku inn? You think he had something to do with that?”
“Yeah, I do. Mana saw me, but I pretended I hadn’t heard anything. Later he confronted me when we were alone. Told me he thought I was a snitch for the MPD and told me to get out of the Hui. I told him no way. I cared about the cause. He attacked me.” Mahoe looked down at his hands. Stevens saw they were as bruised as Mana’s had been. “I was doing okay handling him until someone came up and hit me on the head. Then it was lights-out.”
“Did you ever see who it was who hit you?”
“No.”
“Did you see Awapuhi anywhere around? Because Mana pointed the finger at Awapuhi.”
“No, but they call Awapuhi ‘Kane’ for the Man. And when he and Red were talking about the Norwegian, I heard them say that ‘the Man wanted it done.’”
