Torch Ginger (26 page)

“What?” He looked stunned, face pale and eyes wide. “No. I didn’t kill her. The rug was just sitting in my garage.”

She kept the gun on him, began searching the carpet. Lifted the corner.

“Get up.” He did. She pushed the lightweight table, moved the chairs. Adrenaline hummed in her ears. Keeping the gun on him, she hauled the rug one-handed out from under the cabana. She flipped it over. In the center, a rusty stain.

“Unbelievable,” she said for the second time. “You were gonna fuck me on the rug you used to dump Lisa!”

“I didn’t kill her,” he said again. His voice was low.

“Tell it down at the station. You’re under arrest for the murder of Lisa Nakamoto.”

Chapter 31

Lei kept the gun on Alika as he piloted them straight to the police station without protest, face bleached and set in the reflected light of the controls. Lei hardly noticed the view, all her attention focused on Alika, watching for any attempt to sabotage their flight.

“I didn’t do anything to Lisa,” he said, as they descended toward Kapa`a.

“Save it. I should have known not to trust a guy like you.”

“Like me?”

“A player. Too good-looking. They’ll love you in prison.”

A long silence filled with the whine of rotors, the ground coming toward them.

“It wasn’t like that. But I don’t expect you to believe me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Lei pronounced the epitaph of a relationship.

Lei paced back and forth in the peanut gallery outside the interview room. Her ears buzzed and her stomach roiled. She did relaxation breathing, rubbed the black stone. None of it was helping. The captain sat imperturbably, his fingers laced over his waist, waiting.

Alika sat on a hard metal chair in the interview room, hands cuffed behind him. The room was designed to make suspects uncomfortable: plain windowless walls, a small steel table, shiny expanse of observation mirror, and two chairs for interrogators set at angles to increase their influence.

Fury and Flea came in. The captain had chosen them for their experience and the fact that neither of them knew Alika. Flea went and turned on the camcorder on the wall. Alika’s voice came clearly through the speaker. After the preliminaries, Alika spoke first.

“I don’t know what she told you, but I didn’t do anything to Lisa Nakamoto.”

“Yeah, it’s a little farfetched that you would,” Fury said. Lei went still and then remembered stage one of interrogation—build a connection with the suspect. “Important guy like you, got standing in the community. You wouldn’t risk all that for a piece of trash like Lisa.”

“Exactly. Not that Lisa was trash—she just liked to party.”

“Oh, so you knew her. Socially.”

“Yeah, we knew each other since small kid time.” His use of the colloquialism made bile rise in Lei’s throat. She sat down, pinching the web between her finger and thumb to keep herself in her body.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. Glanced up. Stevens, his hair damp, his eyes intent on the interview. She shrugged his hand off, got up and paced again.

“So you didn’t have a relationship with her.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. We were friends.” Alika sat as proudly as he could with his hands behind his back, his bulky shoulders bunched. “I would never hurt her. Can I get these cuffs off? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sure.” Flea unfolded his height and undid the cuffs as Fury leaned in.

“So what’s your theory?”

Alika rubbed his wrists. “Maybe she was into something that was over her head and someone shot her when she tried to get out. That’s what I think. I tried to help her, but she paid me back by robbing me.”

“So she was endangering your business.”

“No, no.” Alika shook his head. “Lisa was a good girl. Whatever she did, she did because she was an addict.”

“Yeah, but who got her addicted?”

“I heard it was her boyfriend. Name of Hines.”

“We got the Hines guy on Oahu. He’s saying you’re the one who got her into drugs.”

“That’s a lie!” Righteous anger in the raised voice, flared nostrils and wide eyes. “I cared about her. I tried to help her!”

His conviction gave Lei a quiver of doubt for the first time. Maybe it was too easy, that the rug had been in his garage, the bracelet he’d given Lisa caught in the fringe. It was awfully convenient for someone and awfully stupid of Alika—and he’d never struck her as stupid.

“So she was your girlfriend.” Fury was even and relentless, facing Alika from one side of the table, Flea watching inscrutably from the other side, arms folded on his chest.

“Not my girlfriend. A friend. Yes, I cared about her. I was worried about her.”

“Friends with benefits,” Fury stated.

A single nod from Alika.

Lei’s stomach pitched and she pushed out the door, running down the hall to the bathroom, where she vomited up the last dregs of grapes, champagne, and romance.

When she felt a little better, she went back to the gallery. The captain and Stevens were intent on the drama taking place inside.

“Okay, I had a thing with Lisa. An off and on thing. She told me Hines was pressuring her to make meth in the Island Cleaning building; he was threatening her. She didn’t know how to get out of it. I knew she was giving in when the break-ins happened; she would never hit my mother’s business unless she was desperate.”

“So that’s why you killed her. Betrayal.”

“No! I warned her I was calling the cops, that she wasn’t going to get away with it. She begged me not to, said she had to have the money and my insurance would cover it.”

“Why did she need money?”

“For the supplies, the distribution. I don’t know! I just told her it was over between us, and I was going to the police. And that’s when I met Detective Texeira.”

“And what a tasty piece of tail she turned out to be.” Flea spoke his first words. Both Stevens and Lei recoiled.

“Settle down,” the captain said. “Flea’s just trying to provoke him.”

Sure enough, Alika turned to stare Flea down.

“It wasn’t like that.”

“I think it was,” Fury said. “I think you called in the cops, but with every intention of monitoring every move they made, because money is what you need. It’s your real estate business that’s going down the tubes. The meth lab was a way to bail out your business, and the burglaries were a way to get some insurance money.”

A long pause.

“I’d like my lawyer now,” Alika said, sitting back. “I can see where this is going. I’m not saying another word.”

And he didn’t. Eventually Fury and Flea left after allowing Alika to make his phone call.

“Okay, show’s over,” Captain Fernandez said. “Stevens, take her home.”

“Roger that,” Stevens said. He walked beside Lei as she clip-clopped in her pretty shoes down the hall, arms folded tightly over her aching belly. The jean jacket wasn’t enough to keep her warm.

They went out to the unmarked Bronco and he beeped it open. They got on the road. Lei couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She leaned her forehead against the window, and that reminded her of the helicopter ride. What an incredibly romantic gesture Alika had made—on a carpet soaked with Lisa Nakamoto’s blood. How could he be so arrogant, so stupid?

In her heart she knew the answer—he wouldn’t be. He was involved all right, but she didn’t think he’d killed Lisa.

“I don’t think he did it.” Stevens said what she was thinking, like he’d often done in the past.

“I don’t either. He’s too smart.”

“He’s involved somehow though. I wouldn’t be surprised if the burglary and insurance angle Fury came up with are in the ballpark.”

“More will be revealed.” Lei blinked, surprised to feel wetness on her cheeks.

“I’m sorry. He seemed like a nice guy.”

“Bullshit. You hated him.”

He said nothing. They drove on. Lei fell asleep.

She woke up with a gasp. Charlie Kwon was coming down over her, black pupils expanding to block out the light.

Sometimes the worst nightmares were memories.

“You okay?” Stevens looked over as he pulled up to her house. “You up for this FBI thing tonight?”

“I guess I’d better be,” she said, getting out of the Bronco. “Thanks for the ride.” She didn’t let herself look back at him as she went into the little house—the concern in his voice brought tears to her eyes, a thousand tiny pinpricks. She didn’t relax until she heard the sound of the Bronco pulling away.

Her phone buzzed at her side; she looked at the number and groaned. Esther Ka`awai. Well, time to get it over with.

“Hello, Esther.”

“You arrested my grandson. He never did nothing to Lisa!” The older lady’s voice vibrated with outrage.

“I’m sorry, Esther, but it sure looked like he did. He’s involved somehow, at the very least.” Lei pinched the bridge of her nose, hard.

“We paid the bail. He’s out. I hope you’re happy.”

“I’m not happy, Esther. I liked Alika. In fact, more than liked him.” Her voice caught. “I’m just sick about it.”

“Well, if you liked him so much, you could believe him. You could give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“He lied to me!” Lei exclaimed. “He served me lunch on a rug covered with her blood. I found a bracelet in the fringe that said ‛Love Alika’ on it! What do you expect me to do?”

A long silence. Esther cleared her throat. “He told me all that, but it sounds worse when you say it.”

“Try being there. It started out as such a romantic picnic. I shouldn’t be talking to you about this. I can’t discuss his case. The other case though—can you give me a list and locations of the
heiaus
and sacred sites all along the North Shore? It’s important.”

Another long silence as Esther considered.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll have it for you tomorrow. Come to my house.”

She hung up.

The last thing Lei wanted to do was go out to Esther’s house. She felt guilty, angry for feeling guilty, then just sad.

More feelings than she ever liked to have in a day.

Lei pulled up at the safe house well before time for the cult celebration. The case had to come before anything else, including her upset over Alika. She uncoded the locked gate and knocked on the door.

Marcella opened it. She was in a deerskin vest that ended below her rib cage and a fringed skirt that started mid-hip. The expanse of skin in between showcased a lot of sit-ups—or belly dancing.

“All set for a little orgy crashing,” Lei said. “Nice outfit.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” The agent gestured to Lei’s costume. Lei had on a crocheted bikini top and a pair of short shorts with a peace sign on the butt. Her wig was freshly brushed and tattoos recently touched up. She’d thrown a button-down man’s shirt over the ensemble for decency’s sake.

“How’d I get the surveillance detail, is what I want to know,” grumbled Rogers, cleaning his gun at the table. It was a well-used Glock .40, if the wear on the pebbled grip was anything to go by.

“It’s the ladies that get the welcome mat at the cult,” Marcella said. “Besides, you don’t really blend.”

“I’ll second that,” Lei agreed. In camouflage gear, Rogers was downright intimidating.

Marcella and Rogers had already scouted the farm on foot and from the air and had a surveillance post picked out for him. Two more agents would be out in the surveillance van while the three of them went into the papaya farm.

Lei hid her tiny, clear plastic earpiece behind the black wig’s long strands as Marcella did the same. Rogers donned more obvious communication gear, and Agent Morse, the tech expert, checked their equipment one final time.

By the time he was done, the sun had dropped behind the mountain range, and they got into the Camaro and set off for the papaya farm. The white utility van marked “Hawaiian Telcom” followed at a discreet distance.

Marcella pulled over before the gate and let Rogers out of the car. In camo fatigues with a backpack of assorted equipment and weapons, he seemed to disappear as he vaulted the fence and trotted into the rows of papaya trees.

“Sound check, Red One,” Marcella said.

“Roger that,” Rogers answered. “In my case, it’s literal. Red One out.”

Lei gave a little snort of laughter. “Ginger here.”

“Red Two checking. Okay, we’re live.” She activated the recording function of their equipment. Both women were also wearing tiny button cams.

Marcella pulled the Camaro up next to Jazz’s VW van. The store owner puffed nervously on a joint, which he stuffed into the ashtray at the sight of them, waving the pungent smoke away.

“Tiger’s going to be excited to see you both,” he said. “But he’s not a gentleman, I’m telling you. Sure you want to do this?”

“We have to get inside, check them out at least. Don’t worry. We’re not going to draw attention to ourselves.”

“Don’t know if that’s possible, with those outfits.” Jazz unlocked the gate and drove the VW through. They followed in the Camaro. He walked back and draped the lock so it appeared shut and then bounced down the potholed road ahead of them, trackless acres of papaya trees stretching away in every direction.

Lei’s earpiece crackled. “Red One in position.”

“That was quick.” Lei remembered from the schematic where Rogers was positioned, halfway up a lone Norfolk pine that marked the edge of the bedraggled lawn around the small cottage squatting in the midst of tall hibiscus bushes. He’d had to traverse the length of the papaya field and climb the tree without being seen. It didn’t appear to have been a challenge for him.

They pulled into the yard filled with parked cars in front of a great steel barn. The barn doors were open, people milling around the entrance. Lei couldn’t help a glance at the Norfolk pine, but there was nothing to see.

Marcella parked the Camaro and went into acting mode, running around the front and hugging Jazz enthusiastically as he got out of the van.

“Thanks so much for letting me come, Jazz! This is so neat. I’ve never been on a papaya farm before!”

“Have fun. Just don’t drink too much of the stuff in the bowl that comes around.” The tips of his ears turned red from what Lei had been privately calling the “Marcella effect.” The deerskin costume certainly enhanced it.