Pleasing the Dead (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-eight

Hospital personnel recognized Carmen and whisked her into an examination room. One of the security guards produced a key and removed the handcuffs from Keiko. He exclaimed at the burn on her hand, an open sore an inch wide that traversed her palm. An ER doctor soon arrived to take a look at it. Before Keiko went off with him, she handed a cell phone to Storm. Pauline's phone.

Another security guard pulled Storm aside. “Have you called the police about this?”

“I came directly here.”

“We need to report the kidnapping and their injuries.”

Storm agreed. “I'll do it now. I know the officer who's handling the case involving Carmen's father.”

Gloom crossed the security guard's face. “Sad situation, isn't it? Say, do you need medical attention?”

“No, I'm fine. Tell Carmen and Keiko I'll check in with them later.”

Back in the car, Storm turned on Pauline's phone. Once she handed the phone over to the police, she wouldn't see it again. She went to the menu to check both incoming and outgoing phone calls over the past several days. There were a lot, particularly in the last two days.

With an old ball point pen retrieved from Damon's glove box and one of the soccer flyers on the back seat, she went back five days. It didn't take her long because Pauline called the same people over and over. She had a few different incoming calls, but not many. Storm saw Stella's number three times, and jotted down the dates and times of the calls. With a skip of her heart, she recognized one number as Akira Kudo's. The most frequent calls were to and from Wayne, who was in Pauline's address book. Wayne was also on speed-dial.

Storm finished, then called the police station number Moana had given her and got a recording, which told callers to use 911. The lack of response reminded her that it was nine-fifteen on Sunday morning. Except for coffee, she hadn't had anything to eat yet. Storm parked near the hospital and walked to a sandwich shop down the street.

On the way, she walked past the bombed-out shell of Blue Marine, the ruined restaurant. A lone police officer paced the cracked and rutted sidewalk, and directed the infrequent Sunday pedestrian to the other side of the street.

Carl Moana looked glad to see her. Patrolling construction sites was either overtime or scut work, and Moana was probably bored.

“Are you still on Hiroki Yoshinaka's case?” Storm asked him.

He shrugged. “Senior level detectives took it over. The woman that died last night in Lahaina worked at the bar where Yoshinaka gambled. The Red Light.”

That was the information Storm wanted from Damon. She'd asked him in at least three different ways. She'd even bought him dinner and drinks. Lots of drinks.

“I heard that place has Yakuza ties. Some guy named Obake owns it.”

Moana frowned. “How'd you hear that?”

“I heard from someone else about Obake.”

“Who?”

“It's a small island, remember?”

He looked at her carefully. “He's bad news. Don't get involved with him.”

“How did the woman die?”

“Looks like she was beaten, knocked unconscious, and dumped in the ocean. An isolated beach, and no one saw her.”

“Do you think there's a connection between her and Yoshinaka?”

“No indication of it. But we do know there's a connection between her and gambling, and Yoshinaka and gambling. It's tempting to connect dots, but they could be the wrong dots, you know?” He shoved his hands in his pocket and kicked a pebble on the sidewalk.

He knows about the prostitution, Storm thought. “Is Obake a suspect in her death?”

Moana laughed without humor. “You should hear him. He's a victim of a murder attempt, and she was a wonderful person and a lifelong friend. He claims it's the same person who set the bomb.” Moana gestured toward the ruined restaurant.

“Does he have alibis?”

“Of course. With people who corroborate all his claims.”

“That figures,” Storm said. “You knew about Carmen leaving the hospital?”

He wheeled to face her. “Yes, have you heard anything?”

“I found her and Keiko.” Storm told him about Pauline Harding's house, and how Harding had telephone contact with a man named Akira Kudo.

Moana's hands fell out of his pockets. “How'd you get that information?”

“Keiko stole her cell phone.”

“Could I have it?”

“Yes, but it's in my car.” She pointed. “I'm parked down the street.”

Moana walked with her. “I owe you.”

“A guy like Obake is connected.”

“I know.” He looked uneasy. “I thought of that. I'm going to check the phone log carefully.”

“Good,” she said. “Will you call me after you see Keiko and Carmen? I've got a meeting in Kihei.” She handed him a business card, which had her cell phone number. He reciprocated.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Ichiru Tagama sat with Ryan at the breakfast table. Lara had left and Ryan was having a giant cup of coffee, but he'd made his father green tea.

Tagama gave his son a grateful look. The boy was the best thing he'd ever done. He'd told Yasuko, and she agreed, though she hadn't had the opportunity to get to know him. Tagama was about to start that process last night.

“Can you meet our clients in Wailuku?” he asked Ryan.

“Dad, we can cancel. They'll understand.”

“I don't want to cancel. These are important investors.” Tagama sipped from his tea. “Give them my apologies.”

Tagama could feel his son's scrutiny, but he was also certain that Ryan would listen. For one thing, the boy was sensitive. And Tagama wanted time alone; Ryan would know that.

“Eat something,” Ryan said.

Tagama knew he'd won this round. He nodded, but stared at the steaming surface of his tea.

Ryan toasted English muffins, buttered the halves, and set them in front of the old man. “If I'm going to be on time, I'd better get going. I'll call you after the meeting.”

“Thank you, son.”

Tagama sent a prayer after the boy, nibbled on the crunchy edges of the muffins for long enough to let his son get on the road, and then left the apartment. He knew that the digital nature of cellular phones made them hard to tap, but he didn't trust a conversation in Ryan's place. Obake's people were likely to have a bug in place, or a directional microphone set up in an adjacent apartment.

Tagama strolled into town, found a park bench next to a playground full of boisterous elementary school students, and dialed a number on his cell phone.

“Maui Police Department, Major Lekziew's office.”

“Good morning, is the Major in? This is Stan Driver calling.”

“Mr. Driver, he's in a meeting. May I take a message?”

“Sure, tell him Green Sands Golf Club has moved our tee time up. It's for 4:30 instead of five.”

Tagama sat on the bench and watched the children play. If he had it to do over, he'd have had another child or two. Hell, he'd have done a lot differently. Ten minutes passed, and his phone rang.

“Ichiru, I'm sorry for your loss.” Lek Lekziew's voice was private, compassionate.

“Thank you.”

“We don't have much yet.”

“What do you know?”

“A witness has retracted a statement. Says he made a mistake because he wasn't wearing his glasses.”

“What did he see before he forgot he wasn't wearing glasses?”

“A black Land Rover.”

“Ah.”

“There are other black Land Rovers. They're fairly common.”

“Okay. How about the tissue samples under her nails?”

“No matches.” Lek exhaled slowly. “We're looking at the FBI's CODIS, but if they haven't shown up in the local database, they're not going to show up nationally.”

“This is going to be tough,” Lek said. “They're going to be hard to identify.”

“Let me see what I can do.”

Tagama disconnected. He sat for a while longer. The first group of students went inside—recess over—and a second group blasted out the double doors. He turned his face toward the warm sun and smiled at the children's unrestrained delight.

A few minutes later, he walked back to the apartment, went to the living room, and sat on the most-used piece of furniture, a comfortable sofa situated before the TV set. For several minutes, he sat and considered his timing. Then he speed-dialed a number on his mobile phone.

“Ramirez, I need you to meet me.”

“Now?” asked Ramirez.

“Olowalu Wharf in a half hour.”

“You sure?”

“I'm sure.”

“Okay, Boss.”

Tagama disconnected and stood up as if his knees hurt. He looked around the apartment slowly and gave the room a sad smile, though no one could see it. It was a smile of reminiscence.

He walked out the front door and didn't look back. At the front door he asked a security guard to call a taxi for him and went outside to sit down. When he was sure he was alone, he hit the same speed dial button.

“Where is Storm now?” Tagama asked.

“She got Keiko and the kid. They're at the hospital in Wailuku, and Storm just left.”

“She's in a rush to make her appointment with Lara.”

“Looks that way.”

“Obake's at home?”

“Waiting for another call from Japan.” Ramirez chuckled. “My man tells me he's wearing a towel, pacing back and forth.”

“Good. When's the next call from Japan?”

“About an hour.”

“Excellent. I'll see you soon.”

Chapter Thirty

Lara had a half hour before her appointment with Storm. She paced the floor of the dive shop, and tried to shut out the pounding and sawing coming from the back office. Just as one problem was solved, others arose.

The Makena house brought a price higher than she'd dared hope for. Not only had the bidding war been brilliant—she had her realtor to thank for that idea—the buyer's financing had come through. And the right buyer had won; she and the realtor had manipulated that situation a bit, but no one would ever suspect.

She had a closing date, six weeks hence, and her real estate agent had already made an offer on the little strip mall in which Lara's Aquatic Adventures was located. It was a safer deal than waiting to see if Ryan's dad would make a wedding present out of the space. Plus, it would be in her name.

With the resolution of one problem, others arose. Yasuko's death was a terrible blow. Ryan took it very hard, and Tagama's reaction was even worse. He'd insisted on seeing Yasuko's body, and before she was loaded into the Medical Examiner's vehicle, the police had allowed it.

Though Ryan hadn't said anything about it, his father's state of mind had to weigh heavily on him. It was so sad, just as they were all getting to know one another. Even she saw redeeming qualities in the old man, and Ryan had promised to tell her a secret that he promised would make her feel better about Tagama.

Now that Yasuko was dead, it was probably a moot point. Though Ryan and his father had blocked her view, she'd caught a glimpse of Yasuko on the gurney. A cluster of drooping white flowers stood out against her wet hair. Tagama had caressed the gardenias with excruciating tenderness. The gesture squeezed her heart.

Wasn't it an odd coincidence that Yasuko had gardenias in her hair? Even broken and bruised, they were similar to the ones she'd taken to the nursing home yesterday, the blooms she'd cut from the potted plant to pin in her mother's hair.

Lara thought about the flowers. It was ten o'clock, and the nursing staff at the home would have finished with Barb's morning bath. She dialed the extension on her mother's floor and was delighted to reach a caretaker she recognized.

“Elisabeth, would you mind watering that gardenia plant for my mother? She won't remember.”

“Oh.” Elisabeth sounded surprised. “She told me about it.”

“That's good,” Lara said.

“Yes, I'm glad to hear it's real.” Elisabeth thought for a second. “She probably put it someplace safe. She'll do that from time to time.”

“What do you mean? You didn't see it?”

“Don't worry, we'll find it.”

It was a coincidence. How could he suspect? The realtor and she were the only ones who knew.

“Lara, are you there?” Elisabeth asked.

“Sure, I'm here. How about the orchid Stella brought? Did she, uh, hide that?”

“No, it's on the table. She had one of the flowers in her hair.”

Lara bit her lower lip. “Thanks, Elisabeth. I'll visit this afternoon.”

It was a message; she'd known the minute she'd seen the flowers in Yasuko's hair. He knew she'd be on the beach when the body was found, too. He was playing them all.

Lara set the receiver down and paced back and forth a half-dozen times. She picked up the phone and dialed another number. She got her realtor's voice mail and left a message to call her back. Probably showing some property; Sundays were busy days for realtors.

She made another call. “Ken, are you keeping an eye on him?”

“Sure, just like you asked.”

Lara could hear the sound of waves in the background. “What's he doing?”

“Nothing. Well, he's walking back and forth in his living room. Wearing a towel and looking pissed.”

“Good. Get back to the boat and meet me here a little before noon.”

“You sure you want to do this?”

“I'm okay.”

***

Storm had little time before her meeting with Lara, but she was itching to cross-check Mark Suzuki's information with numbers she'd pulled off Pauline's phone log. Five minutes away from Lara's shop, she pulled to the side of the road.

Not wanting to leave any documents in the hotel room, she'd been carrying around all the paperwork she'd collected over the past two days, and she flipped through the file she'd begun until she found the paper she wanted. Pauline had several calls to and from numbers Storm didn't recognize, but there were also two from Lara's cell phone and one from Pauline to the dive shop.

Storm's first thought was that Lara was helping Stella look for the missing girls. But the calls were made yesterday morning, all between seven-thirty and eight. Stella had told Storm that Keiko left around nine.

None of the calls on Stella's phone were made to a number designated as Keiko's, so Storm had to assume for the time being that Keiko didn't have a cell phone. She hadn't had one in that closet, that's for sure. Maybe she and Stella shared.

But Mark had noted a call from Pauline to Stella's apartment on Saturday morning at eight-thirteen. She'd ask Stella if she remembered that call. If not, then chances were that Keiko'd picked up. The call took four minutes, too long for an answering machine or a hang-up. Long enough to exchange information.

It was time to go to her meeting. She'd review the list later, perhaps make another call to Mark for the unidentified numbers. If Akira Kudo changed phones often, maybe one of them was his. Or one of his bodyguard's. Kudo would have other people doing the work of kidnapping young women and raiding hotel rooms. Or driving a black Range Rover.

At the dive shop, Storm watched Lara fumble with the lock at the front door. “I didn't want anyone wandering in yet. People walk right in unless the door's locked.”

“Are you open today?” Storm asked.

“We've got a dive group going out this afternoon.” Lara turned to lead Storm into the back office. Damon stopped hammering.

“Good morning,” he mumbled to Storm. He picked up his tools and left the room.

Lara watched him leave with a quizzical expression. She looked like she was about to ask Storm a question, but he'd left too quickly.

“No time off?” Storm asked. “I'm sorry to hear about your friend.”

“It's sad for Ryan and his father. I didn't know her, to be honest.”

Storm saw emotion—was it fear or grief?—pull at her features. What was the connection between Yasuko and these women? Stella had told Storm about the young women, but Stella hadn't mentioned Yasuko, who worked at The Red Light, and had for a long time. Stella would know her, and if Stella's story was true, Lara knew her too—and not just through the Tagamas.

“I heard she worked at The Red Light,” Storm said. “Stella told me about that place.”

Lara's head whipped around. “Don't listen to Stella. She's got her facts all mixed up.”

“She seems to care about you.”

“I care about her, too. I gave her a job, didn't I?”

“Keiko, too.”

“Yes, and Keiko's a mess. You've seen her.” Lara pointed to a chair in front of a desk. “Let's get to the insurance questions. As I remember, I'm paying you for that job.”

Storm sat down and laid her folder on the table. “Okay, I'll start the clock.”

Lara sighed and took a seat behind the desk. “I'm sorry, it's been a very long night. Hell, it's been a long week.”

“I understand. We only have a few details to cover.”

“Where's your briefcase?” Lara asked.

“It got stolen.”

“Shit,” Lara whispered.

“Don't worry, no one can get into my work data. The files are encrypted.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. I have a very good tech person. Laptops are stolen too often for me to risk having cases exposed.” Another of Suzuki's talents, for which Storm was highly appreciative.

Storm opened the folder. “And I back everything up.”

“No one could find out what we talked about?” Lara's tan had faded.

“No, but think about it. We talked about insurance for the dive shop, a logical conversation for a new business owner. Believe me, it would take weeks to hack into my files, and even if it happened, yours wouldn't reveal any vulnerability.”

“Yeah, I guess not.” Lara sighed. She leaned forward in her chair. “I'm going to buy the shopping center.” She tapped on the desk with her index finger. “The deal is finally coming together. Sorry I didn't mention it earlier, but I thought it would be
bachi
. You know, bad luck.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” Storm said. “This changes your insurance policy, but it'll benefit you in the long run.”

“I hope.”

“How are you handling the real estate transaction?” Storm asked.

“I've got a realtor taking care of that.”

“Good. I'll make the changes in Honolulu and fax you the papers.”

“When are you going back?”

“I'm going to the airport soon.” Storm didn't mention Hamlin's arrival. He might want to spend the night, but that was none of Lara's business.

“Thank you for your help. Your understanding, too,” Lara said.

“You're welcome.”

Lara walked Storm through the shop to the front door, where they shook hands. Damon's tools were piled in a corner, but he was staying out of the way.

Lara watched Storm walk out the door and disappear around the corner. When she could no longer see Storm, she rushed to answer her cell phone, which was ringing in the office. She recognized the number as her realtor's office, and assumed Mary Robbins was returning her call. But when she got through and listened for a moment to the sobbing voice on the other end, she collapsed into her desk chair.

With a shaking voice and hands that trembled so that she could hardly hold onto the phone, Lara asked, “Where did the accident happen?”

“Honoapi‘ilani Highway. She was on the way to Kapalua.”

“How…how bad is she hurt?” Lara's voice wavered.

The woman on the line broke down again. “She's dead.”