EDGE OF SUSPENSE: Thrilling Tales of Mystery & Murder (16 page)

She went with the flow. Now Andres was her
man and she couldn't be happier about it.

Sophia sat at her desk and turned on the
computer. She decided she couldn't wait a moment longer to talk to
Andres.

"Hey, baby, it's me," she said, immediately
perking up at the sound of his voice.

* * *

He passed by several businesses,
instinctively dismissing them. Then he came to something called the
Blossom Dating Service. Though slightly turned blinds obscured his
vision, he saw enough to know he had come to the right place.

He looked around for any unwanted company.
Seeing no one, he took a deep breath and, clutching the doorknob
with a handkerchief, twisted till it opened. He entered a small
office with two desks. Only one was occupied.

She was on the phone, probably talking to
Andres. The nameplate on her desk read: Sophia Pesquera. When she
looked up at him, she seemed more irritated that he had apparently
interrupted her conversation than afraid. There was no indication
that she recognized him from the diner.

Good. He wanted to keep things simple.

"Call me back in ten...no, make it fifteen,"
she said before hanging up.

Giving him her full attention, Sophia forced
a smile and asked, "How can I help you?"

He thought about it for a moment or two,
before removing the silk scarf from his pocket. Flexing it, he
responded, "The better question is: how can I help you? I don't
think you want to know—"

When Sophia realized that he wasn't there to
find a date, she impulsively sprang out of her chair.

He quickly came up behind her before she
could react, and draped the scarf around her neck, tightening it in
a viselike grip. He enjoyed the feel of her struggling to break
free.

But it was not to be.

A vein bulged in Sophia's temple as she
gasped desperately for air, her arms flailing. All she could think
of was that Andres would never get to know what might have been
between them. If only some crazy man had not chosen her to
die...

He literally lifted Sophia up off her feet,
which swung helplessly in the air. Her body grew tense and shook
wildly, before turning pliable. Her erratic breathing stopped, and
he knew it was over.

For this one anyway...

# # #

Following is a bonus excerpt of the
bestselling police procedural and medical mystery eBook by R. Barri
Flowers. Available in Kindle, Nook, iTunes, and Audio.

MURDER IN
MAUI: A Leila Kahana Mystery

PROLOGUE

The handgun was loaded methodically. Time
for payback. Now they would know what it felt like to be
humiliated. And only then could some peace of mind come.

And just maybe a life again.

First things first. There was a job to do
and the doer was determined to exact some vengeance against those
deserving.

Stuffing the gun in a pocket, the
soon-to-be-killer downed the rest of a glass of liquor before
heading for the door.

It was a relatively quiet evening by Maui
standards, what with the constant throng of tourists practically
taking over the island. This was a good omen. No need to draw undue
attention or have to take out someone who didn't deserve to
die.

The doer got into a vehicle and began the
drive down Mokulele Highway toward the South Shore.

Arriving in Wailea, the car was parked not
far from the Crest Creek Condominiums.

Then came the wait, certain they would show
up. After all, their routines had been studied and memorized.

Ten minutes later both arrived in separate
BMWs. The tall, handsome man left his car first and casually looked
around as if lost before heading toward a condo.

The woman waited an appropriate amount of
time before stepping out of her car. She was attractive and leggy
with long blonde hair.

She joined the man in the condo.

It didn't take much to imagine what they
might be doing inside, having already witnessed it firsthand.

She was the loud type; while her lover was
more focused on rough actions speaking for him.

Glancing at a watch, the doer decided it was
time to get this over with.

Moving quickly toward the condo, the doer
resisted the temptation to look around in the dim light, knowing
this small impulse alone might cause someone to hone in on a
passing stranger.

Pausing at the unit and listening carefully
for any sounds within, there was nothing perceptible due to the
thick walls, which would work well for the purpose in mind.

The gloved hand turned the doorknob, slowly
opening the door.

Inside two goblets of wine sat on a table in
the living room. Clothes were strewn about the hardwood floor as if
they couldn't get them off soon enough. Muffled sounds could be
heard upstairs.

The doer climbed the steps, moving steadily.
The master bedroom was just down the hall. Laughter and moaning
grew louder, along with the frenetic movement of bodies.

The two were on the bed naked having sex.
She was on top, galloping like a stallion, while he had one hand
clamped firmly on her breast and the other gripping a buttock.

Removing the gun, a few brisk steps toward
the pair followed. Before they were even aware of another presence
in the room, it was too late. Bullets were systematically pumped
into the pair until the killer was satisfied there was no life left
in the room other than one.

ONE

Leila Kahana had been with the Maui County
Police Department for seven years, working in the Criminal
Investigative Division as a detective and composite sketch artist.
She'd joined the homicide squad three years ago and had seen her
share of murder victims in various types of positions, ranging from
fetal to awkward to dangling. But none made her olive skin flush
like the present victims. A Hawaiian man and white woman, both in
their thirties, were naked and locked in coitus; the woman slumped
astride the man.

Identified through their driver licenses as
Doctors Larry Nagasaka and Elizabeth Racine, both had been shot at
point blank range in the head and the woman had bullet wounds in
her back. The two were literally lying in a pool of their own
blood.

The call had come in this Tuesday at 8:30
p.m. with a report of gunfire at the Crest Creek Condominiums, one
of the new and expensive developments in the exclusive Wailea
Resort. Neither victim lived at the residence that, according to
records, was owned by the Medical Association of Maui.

"Looks like they went out with a bang, no
pun intended," her partner, Detective Sergeant Blake Seymour, said
as a police photographer took pictures of the decedents.

Leila winced, hoping Seymour didn't notice
how uncomfortable she felt seeing the victims locked in the sex
act. Not that she had anything against sex, other than being
without for the past six months. It just seemed like some things
should remain private and not exposed for everyone to see. Or at
least not a bunch of gawking law enforcement personnel.

But then Leila didn't imagine the pair knew
they would be murdered at the worst possible time. Or best,
depending on how you looked at it.

"I guess we can pretty much rule out
murder-suicide," she said, as there was no murder weapon found
anywhere near the bodies. Not to mention they were shot multiple
times and in difficult positions, making it all but impossible that
either victim could have been the shooter.

"I agree. Not unless one or the other was a
glutton for punishment and Houdini at the same time."

Leila wrinkled her nose. "There was no sign
of forced entry either. And it doesn't look like anything was
taken. Once you get past their messy remains and clothes scattered
around, the place is immaculate. Not exactly evidence of a
burglary."

Seymour flexed his latex gloved hand and
lifted a shell casing, dropping it in a plastic bag. "Someone
invaded the place all right, and found exactly who they were
looking for. The question is, under what circumstances and who got
the jump on the lovers?"

Leila made it a point to never try and get
inside a killer's head too soon. The evidence had a way of leading
them down the right path, even if less than straight and narrow.
She looked again at the victims.

"No reason to believe they were expecting
company. Obviously it didn't deter the killer. Whichever way you
slice it, this was definitely personal."

"Sure looks that way. Whoever did this
definitely wanted to make a statement. They didn't have a fighting
chance."

"So we'll fight the fight on their
behalf."

Leila stepped aside as the photographer took
pictures of the corpses from a different angle. She believed the
killer not only wanted to execute the pair, but humiliate them,
too.

She instructed other CSI members to document
the crime scene including identifying, collecting and processing
any possible physical evidence.

Following Seymour downstairs, Leila couldn't
help but wonder if anyone ever used the place other than for sex.
If only her house were as tidy. Or maybe that would make it seem
too artificial rather than a place to live.

She noted the door key on a cabinet off the
foyer. "I'm guessing one of the victims used this to get in.
Probably left the door unlocked and that's how the killer got
in."

Seymour looked. "Yeah, you're probably
right. Still, you never know. If the killer had a key, he or she
might have tossed it aside, no longer needing it once the deed was
done." He said to a nearby CSI, "Dust this key for prints."

"Sure thing."

Seymour did a quick scan of the area.
"Would've helped if they'd had a first rate security system."

Leila blinked. "Maybe the association didn't
feel one was needed."

"A costly error in judgment, though
something tells me the victims were here on their own time taking
care of business, so to speak."

"Yeah, right." She rolled her eyes.

Seymour managed a weak smile.

Leila approached Officer Tasia Gould. "Who
called this in?"

"A neighbor." She lifted a notepad. "Barbara
Holliman."

"We'll need to speak with Ms. Holliman."

"And anyone else in the immediate area who
was home when the call came in," Seymour added. "Someone must have
seen the shooter."

Tasia nodded. "That's usually the case, even
if they didn't realize it at the time."

Leila looked up at Seymour, who was nearly a
foot taller than her five-four with most of it muscle. "You think
this is an isolated incident?"

He shrugged. "Guess that will depend on why
someone wanted the doctors dead while caught in the act."

Leila refused to speculate on motive beyond
the obvious that the killer knew the doctors. Not till they had
more to go on regarding the victims.

And perpetrator.

* * *

Leila sat in the passenger seat as Seymour
drove. Both were trapped in their own thoughts about the latest
case to bring them out into the night. For her part, Leila never
considered one investigation to be any less or more important than
the next. When dealing with human beings and loss of life through
violence, all cases deserved their best efforts.

She glanced at Seymour's profile. He was
nice enough looking, if not the most handsome man she had seen. His
salt and pepper hair was cut short and he'd recently grown a
mustache, which Leila hadn't decided if she liked. They had been
partners for two years and she still didn't know him very well. At
times he could be moody, witty, or a million miles away.

Seymour was currently separated from his
wife. Leila suspected he wanted to get back together with her, but
tried to pretend otherwise. She wasn't sure what to tell him,
having no experience in that department.

At thirty-two, Leila had never been married.
Born in Hawaii to conservative Polynesian parents who believed it
was her duty to marry an established Polynesian man, Leila wasn't
opposed to marriage as much as being with someone she didn't love.
That included her last boyfriend, who had turned out to be a real
jerk.

Leila preferred to be on her own for now
till someone came along who really made her want him.

She looked again at her partner. "Why are
you so quiet over there, Seymour?"

"Just thinking about disappointing my
daughter." He paused. "I was supposed to pick her up for the night.
Then duty called."

"Is it too late now?"

"She's probably asleep."

"She knows you're a cop. I think she'll
understand." Easy for her to say.

"Yeah, I suppose." Seymour sniffed. "I still
hate letting her down."

"So find a way to make it up to her."

"I'll think of something."

Leila's mind returned to the grisly crime
scene. They were on their way to notify next of kin before the
press could. This was one of the hardest parts of the job, along
with tracing the winding path that had culminated with a double
murder.

* * *

The address they had for Larry Nagasaka was
in nearby Kihei. It was a beachfront estate surrounded by swaying
palm trees in a gated community. Seymour could only imagine what a
place like this went for. Certainly way out of his league.

Apparently the doctor wasn't entirely at
home here though, considering he'd chosen another location to have
sex.

The door was opened by an attractive petite
Asian woman with long raven hair, almost as though she'd been
expecting them.

"Yes?"

He identified them. "And you are...?"

"Connie Nagasaka."

"Is Dr. Larry Nagasaka your—?"

"Husband. Yes." She frowned. "What is this
about?"

"Could we please come in?" Leila asked.