Black Widow (4 page)

10

Stanton sat on his patio with the murder books out on the table. Mathew was on a date and Johnny was up in his room doing homework. Just to make sure, Stanton went inside and checked that Johnny’s door was shut. He went back out to the patio and looked at the books.

His Mac was next to the files and he inserted a flash drive. An album of crime scene photos opened. Two men of similar builds tied to beds with duct tape. They looked like something out of nightmares. For every minute Stanton stared at the photos, he had to spend a minute looking out over the ocean.

The sun was setting, and a prism of color painted the sky from a recent rain. He watched a couple on a canoe paddle past his home and then he turned back to the photos.

One was of bloody shoeprints on the carpets of both scenes. A bigger print followed half a foot behind by a circle or semi-circle. High heels.

Why don’t you care that you let me see that
? Stanton thought.

Each man’s clothing was piled on the floor away from the bed, and they were nude. Stanton had read through both toxicology reports and both came back the same: positive for
Gamma-hydroxybutyrate. GHB. A date-rape drug.

Stanton had become familiar with GHB from his stint in the Sex Crimes Unit at SDPD. It was an odorless, almost tasteless, liquid, that when mixed with any drink became undetectable. It caused hallucinations and euphoria, an intense intoxication, and could induce vomiting and blacking out. When it was mixed with alcohol, it intensified the effects of both drugs and could leave a person in a
comalike sleep.

GHB had been gaining in popularity as a date-rape drug the last decade. It was legal until 1990 when bodybuilders had been using it in small doses, thinking it helped with muscle gains. It was discovered at frat parties and bars a short time later.

The men were drugged with a narcotic that had to be drunk. No glasses or containers were found in either of the hotel rooms, which meant it had to be drunk somewhere else.

That implied a social setting.

Most likely a bar or dance club, maybe somebody’s house. But Hugh and Alex were distinguished older men that might view going to a dance club as immature. Since GHB took nearly half an hour to take effect, it could be slipped in someone’s drink one place and then they could drive to another.

He also remembered that each hotel would have a bar and a restaurant. Stanton made a mental note that all the employees of the bars and restaurants in the hotels had to be interviewed.

Stanton closed the photo file and looked through the biographies again. They were drafted by a detective named Connor Jones, and he’d done an excellent job. Something that Stanton did for murder books that most detectives didn’t was pull the victims’ cell phone records, bank statements, credit card statements, school records, and emails. Jones had done just that with the exception of the cell phone records, which were more difficult to obtain.

Stanton read through the credit card charges on the nights the two men had been killed. Alex had one for what was probably gas from a Texaco and Hugh didn’t have any.

He closed the files and stared out over the ocean. He could hear his ex-wife’s voice in his head. Her voice was muffled, and he couldn’t make out all of what she was saying. But most of it came through. He was doing again exactly what had cost him his marriage and what cost him a fiancée years later.

But, somehow, he knew he would do it anyway.

11

The second day of orientation lasted until one in the afternoon. When it was over, they played music on a laptop and clapped for each new employee of the county or city as they called their name and presented them with a diploma on cheap paper. It was meant to make them laugh, but Stanton didn’t see a single employee even smiling.

He headed back to the precinct and to his desk, where he’d left the Black Widow file. Several officers introduced themselves and made small talk. But one man seated across from him was glaring at him.

“You must be Connor?” Stanton said, without looking up from the file.

The man glanced around and then at his desk, probably seeing if he had left his ID badge out. “How’d you know?”

“Because I’ve seen that look before. You think I stole your case. I promise you I didn’t want it. Kai just gave it to me.”

Connor turned his eyes to his computer and began clicking around. “Yeah, well, that’s life, I guess.”

“You did an excellent job.” Stanton closed the books and looked to him. “Your narratives were detailed and free of spelling errors. You rarely see that.”

“I take my time.”

Connor Jones was young, Stanton thought. Almost as young as he was when he was made detective. He remembered the intense desire he had then to catch the big cases. The ones that would give him a name and allow him to rise in the department.

Somewhere around the ten-year mark, that desire would turn into its opposite.
At that stage, no one would want to catch any big murder cases. They would just want to ride out the next ten years until retirement. That was the reason Stanton preferred working with younger detectives.

“I’m not looking to step on anyone’s toes,” Stanton said. “I don’t have a partner. Kai knows I work alone. But if you would like to work this case with me, I could use the help.”

Jones kept his face stern a moment and then it softened. Excitement came back to him, and he rose and walked over. Leaning against Stanton’s desk, he folded his arms. “Did you see my note about Alex Waters’ wife?”

“I did. Have you spoken to her yet?”

“She won’t return my calls or emails.”

Stanton thought a moment. “I don’t think we need to speak to her. I think we need her bank and credit card statements. Then we need to check all the airlines with flights to the islands and see if she’s been out here.”

“You think she’s good for this?”

“No, but you never know.”

“It had to be a woman, though.”

Stanton shook his head. “The high heels could have been worn by a man.”

Jones blushed and glanced away. He hadn’t thought of it, and Stanton wondered why.

“Why did they call this Black Widow anyway?”

“We saw the high heels on the first one, and one of the uniforms said the guy looked like he’d been eaten by a spider.”

Stanton picked up a pen that was in a cup on his desk and rolled it around between his fingers. The texture was smooth until the sticky grip near the tip. “Why don’t you check her records and with the airlines. I’m going to interview a few people at the hotels.”

Jones nodded. “I’ll let you know. Hey, outta curiosity, how’d you talk Kai into letting you lateral and then go without a partner? He never does that for anyone.”

“We have a history together. He trusts me and I trust him.” Stanton rose. “Let me know what you find.”

He watched Jones hurriedly go to his desk and begin searching through law enforcement databases for the information he needed. The young detective hadn’t even questioned why he should be the one to do the grunt work. He had so much enthusiasm he just seemed happy to be part of the investigation. Stanton hoped other senior detectives wouldn’t take advantage of that later on. He’d seen enough bitter, cynical, hard-drinking detectives to last him several lifetimes.

Stanton left the precinct and forgot to grab a parking pass. A ticket was on his car. He took it and placed it on his passenger seat, so he wouldn’t forget to pay it, before starting the car and
heading to the Dale Koa Hotel.

The hotel was a tall building with white trim, almost directly on the beach. Encircled with palm trees, it looked like the kind of place you would see on a brochure for Hawaii. A golf course was next to it with bright green grass.

Stanton parked in valet and hopped out of his jeep. He took his ticket stub and then went inside. The lobby was well decorated with a nature motif. Glass took up most of the walls and looked out on the ocean.

Stanton could see a sign for the Dale Koa Grill. He followed it until coming to a restaurant that was nearly empty. He checked the times posted on the door and saw that they didn’t open until five p.m.

Someone was inside walking around with a legal pad. Stanton knocked on the door.

A man in a white button-down shirt with black vest answered. “Sorry, sir, we don’t open ’til five.”

Stanton went to reach for a badge and realized he didn’t have that or his firearm. “I’m Detective Jon Stanton with the Honolulu PD. Are you the manager?”

“I am.”

“I just had some questions about the murder that occurred here last month. Alex Waters.”

The man glanced down both sides of the hallway. “We’re not supposed to talk about it. It’s bad for business, you know?”

“I do. Can we talk inside then?”

He opened the doors fully and allowed Stanton inside. He walked in as the manager shut the doors behind him. A table near the windows had a soda on it with an open laptop. The manager walked over and sat down; Stanton did the same.

“Were you here the night of the murder?”

“Yeah, I was.”

“And you’re Andrew Rasmussen, right?”

“Yeah.”

Stanton opened a document on his phone with notes he’d made about the case. “Andrew, I saw a brief statement written by you in the reports. It basically just said that you didn’t see or hear anything.”

He shook his head. “It happened on the sixth floor. I was down here. It was a Friday too, I think, and so that’s our busiest night. There was no way I would have noticed some chick walking
up to the rooms with that guy.”

Stanton pulled up a photo on his phone. “I’m more interested in what you saw here.” He showed the photo to Andrew. “This is Alex Waters. Did you see him down here at the restaurant at all that night?”

He stared at the photo a moment. “Sorry, man. Just too many people. There’s no way I could tell.”

Stanton placed his phone down on the table. “I understand. Has anything like this ever happened before?”

Andrew moved his laptop aside and leaned back in the seat. “No, never. I mean, we had some guest have a heart attack and die, like, two years ago. Old dude was bangin’ some cooha and his heart gave out.” He grinned. “That’s how I’d wanna go.”

Stanton smiled. “Not me. In the ocean.” He picked up his phone and placed it back in his pocket. “Who manages the bar?”

“The Shell? It’s a gal named Marissa. She’s probably over there right now if you need to talk to her.”

Stanton nodded and rose. “I appreciate your time.”

“No worries.”

Stanton walked across the hotel to the Shell. The bar was black, chrome, and crimson. The lighting was dim and there were no windows. In place of a front door was a velvet rope hanging on two chrome hooks from the walls.

A woman with dark hair was behind the bar. Stanton stepped over the rope.

“Excuse me, are you Marissa?”

“Yeah.”

He walked over and stood across from her. “I’m Detective Jon Stanton with the Honolulu PD. I was sent over by Andrew. He said you would be here.”

The surprise that was initially on her face faded. “Oh.”

“It’s about Alex Waters. The man that was killed here a short while ago.”

She continued cleaning the countertop with a bright white rag. “What about him?”

“You were here that Friday he was killed, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah, I was workin’.”

Stanton sat down on a barstool. He normally would stand or even raise himself on his toes, as height gave an unconscious impression of authority and power. But that’s not what she needed. She
was hiding something, probably completely unrelated to the case, and was nervous. He hoped putting her in the better position would comfort her a little.

“You didn’t fill out a statement. Did any officers speak to you?”

She shook her head, reaching out to the edge of the countertop to wipe at a stain. “Nah. Nobody talked to me.”

“The reports said a cleaning woman found the body, but it doesn’t say exactly how.”

“Yeah, she seen blood on the carpet comin’ outta that room. So she called the MOD.”

“MOD?”

“Manager on Duty. So she called her and they opened the room. But my shift ended at one so I was already gone. That’s why no cops talked to me.”

Stanton opened a note doc on his phone. “What was the MOD’s name?”

“Kiki Tahali.”

Stanton input the name into the doc. “Is Kiki here?”

“No, she works graveyards. She starts at ten.”

He pulled up the photo of Alex. “This is the man that was killed. Did you see him here that night?”

“I don’t know. I think so, I mean, when I seen his picture the next day he looked like I’d seen him.”

“Was he with anybody when you saw him?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

“What time did you see him?”

“I don’t remember. He just looked kinda like I seen him before.”

Stanton thought a moment. “Are there cameras in the bar?”

“Yeah, we got one up in the corner.”

Stanton’s heart jumped. “How long do you keep the video?”

She shrugged. “We gots some company that does all a that.”

“Can you get me their information, please?”

“Sure. Let me call the MOD.”

Stanton waited a good ten minutes. He walked the length of the bar, staring at the floors and tables. The
tiki torches up on the walls hadn’t been turned on yet. The entire bar had an atmosphere of anticipation. Like it was frozen in time and just waiting for something to happen.

“Detective?”

Stanton turned. Marissa had a card in her hand. He walked over and took it. It was white with blue trim and had a logo for a “Keylock Security.”

“Thanks,” he said.

He would have left a card but realized he didn’t have any of those either.