Murder of the Hula Dancers Read online

  But Leila had always been too stubborn for her own good, as her mother often reminded her, and pushed forward with her career plans. She had proven time and time again that she belonged, solving many high profile and low profile homicide cases, impressing her colleagues and superiors. Most of all, she wanted their respect and the opportunity to do her job to the best of her ability. Leila had accomplished this and never took it for granted.

  Not even on her day off.

  Sliding out of bed beneath a twirling ceiling fan, Leila stood at five feet, four inches tall on a slender frame. She had let her straight brown hair with blonde highlights grow past her shoulders and had received lots of compliments on it. These included from her partner, Jonny Chung, their boss, Lieutenant Blake Seymour, and Maxwell, whose opinion counted most.

  Her brown eyes gazed at Maxwell who was still asleep, no doubt worn down by their hours of passion. Of Japanese descent, he was dark-haired, tall, slender, and hot—especially in the nude. She blushed at her carnal thoughts, having become more comfortable with her sexuality over time.

  She slipped into one of his oversized shirts and went downstairs, padding barefoot across the wooden floor to the gourmet kitchen. There, she made herself a cup of coffee and stepped out on the lanai, admiring the view. There were palm and kiawe trees on the property, along with open land for riding horses. Beyond that was the ocean, with the Hawaiian Islands of Lanai and Molokai visible in the distance.

  Leila sipped her coffee. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she was starting to look beyond a career in law enforcement. She wondered if she could actually make a go of it as an artist, much like her friend Jan.

  Or did she need to stay put and not look for ways to derail what she had worked so hard to accomplish?

  "There you are," Maxwell said, joining her on the lanai.

  "Yep, here I am," Leila said, smiling up at him.

  "For a moment there, I thought you had left."

  "Nope, I think you're stuck with me," she said, half-joking.

  He grinned and kissed her on the mouth. "I can live with that."

  "Good comeback." Leila wondered if she could say the same. Was living together the next step for them? Or was he even thinking that far ahead? Was she?

  * * *

  Leila's day off was cancelled when she was called to duty for an apparent homicide investigation. She got dressed quickly, wearing a yellow blouse, black pants, and flats. She had been instructed to meet Chung at the crime scene, where a young woman was found dead.

  Leila drove down Honoapiilani Highway east toward Kihei. Without having ever laid eyes on the victim, she anguished at the thought of her passing and those who might be affected by it. Unfortunately, in her line of work, Leila knew she had to be thick-skinned at the same time. This was all too clear in the last case she worked on. A twelve-year-old girl was murdered by a fifteen-year-old neighbor who had become fixated on her. When she rejected his unwanted advances, he became despondent, stole his father's handgun, and shot her to death. The case rocked the island of Maui and put the spotlight on gun accessibility, juvenile crime, and mental illness.

  It was something no parent should ever have to go through, whether their child was the victim or offender. Leila wasn't sure if there were children in her future, but the thought of them not being given the opportunity to grow up was gut-wrenching.

  She pushed the thought back as she pulled up to the curb behind Chung's vehicle on East Liloa Drive. Also present was a police cruiser.

  "Sorry to pull you away from your lover boy on your day off," Chung said, clearly getting some sort of satisfaction out of it, as if to say misery loved company when it came to his own dating woes, which he made no bones about.

  "I'm sure you are." Leila sneered and gave him the once over. Chinese-American, he was in his thirties, around five-nine, and slender with short black hair and dark eyes. He was dressed in his usual detective attire of a print shirt and light trousers. They had been partners for less than a year, though it somehow seemed much longer. He had come onto her once, but was quickly put in his place. "Bring me up to speed," she said.

  "We've got a murdered Hawaiian female, tentatively identified by a driver's license," Chung said, holding it up with a nitrile-gloved hand, "that was found with some other belongings near the body. Yoshie Akiyama, age twenty-seven. I'll leave it up to the coroner to determine the exact cause of death, but by the looks of it, I'd say she was attacked by someone with a long knife."

  Leila winced at the thought. "Did you find the weapon?"

  Chung shook his head. "As far as I know, there's no sign of it yet. But you can ask Officers Yuen and Spinelli. They were the first responders."

  Leila glanced over at the two officers. They were talking to an elderly man who was holding a dog on a leash. "Who's that?"

  "Lloyd Shaughnessy. He—or should I say his dog—discovered the body during a morning walk."

  "So where is she?" Leila asked.

  "This way—" Chung said, as he headed toward the field of tall, dry grass.

  Leila walked behind him and quickly spotted the victim. She was completely naked, aside from the high heel shoes. Why did the killer not remove those too? Her long, dark hair was like a halo around her pale face. Her hazel eyes were wide open, as if to stare death in the face, while being unable to communicate who killed her to the living. Her legs were pressed together, giving no clue as to whether or not she had been sexually assaulted.

  As though reading Leila's mind, Chung commented: "Bastard probably raped her and then silenced her for good with the knife."

  Leila counted at least a dozen stab or cutting wounds, which indicated that it was personal for whoever killed her and they wanted everyone else to know that too.

  "We'll see what the coroner has to say about rape or other sexual assault, amid this violent killing," she uttered.

  Chung seemed almost disappointed that the victim may not have been raped. He took a few steps to the right, pointed, and said: "The killer dumped her clothes and handbag over here. The bag has her wallet, credit cards, and some money, which means this wasn't a robbery gone bad. It's like the killer wanted us to find these things, but not on the victim."

  "Interesting," Leila said thoughtfully as she followed his footsteps, not wanting to taint any more of the area than necessary so the crime scene investigators could do their job properly. The first thing that caught her eye was the clothing. There was a wrap skirt, a bikini top, a lei, and plumeria headband. They were all part of a hula dancer's costume. "She was a hula girl," Leila said matter-of-factly.

  Chung cocked a thick brow. "Really?"

  She nodded confidently, as she had seen numerous hula performances over the years. "Yes, that's what many hula dancers wear when performing."

  "Are you saying someone took a knife to her while she was dancing?"

  Leila frowned. "Think, Chung! She was most likely attacked after her performance. The questions are: did she know her killer, did the killer watch her dance and then lure her somewhere, follow her, or perhaps choose her at random?" She had trouble with that last possibility, considering the dynamics of the other probabilities.

  Chung scratched his cheek. "Guess we need to find out where she did her thing, who she worked for, if anyone, and who may have had it in for her."

  "You took the words right out of my mouth," Leila said dryly. "First, I'd like to see if the witness and his dog saw anyone or anything unusual." Even then, she was pretty sure that the murder occurred last night and the killer was long gone by the time the man and his dog happened upon the scene.

  Lloyd Shaughnessy supported this conclusion. "There was no one else around—just that poor young lady," he muttered sadly.

  His dog barked, as though feeling his pain.

  Leila looked at Officer Spinelli. "Why don't you canvass the area and see if anyone may have seen a car stop around here long enough to discard a body." It occurred to her that the victim could have been on foot when
she was accosted. But, judging by the area that seemed a bit too far from homes or businesses to have her walking after performing, it seemed unlikely.

  "No problem. I'll get right on it," he said.

  She turned to Officer Yuen. "We need to find out if there are any surveillance cameras around here that might give us something to go on in terms of suspicious activity during the night—"

  "I've already begun looking into that," Natalie responded knowingly.

  Leila nodded, impressed. "Good."

  Natalie added: "Since the killer chose this spot to dump the body, I'm guessing that he or she lives around here—or at least is familiar with the area."

  "Makes sense." Leila decided that the killer was most likely a he, given that the victim appeared to have been carried rather than dragged to the spot where she was found. She gazed around, wondering if the killer could even be watching them right now, hidden from view, but enjoying the thrill of discovery. "It's also quite possible," she advanced speculatively, "that the killer picked this place to leave the body as an omen of things to come."

  The thought was unnerving to Leila.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Maui County Police Department was based in Wailuku. The census-designated place was Maui County's county seat and was at the base of the West Maui Mountains. The Chief of Police and Deputy Chief of Police spearheaded the department and its efforts to maintain law and order on the island, with the Investigation Services Bureau carrying a great deal of the load. Within it was the Criminal Investigations Division that included the Homicide Unit, headed by Lieutenant Blake Seymour.

  Leila gazed at her boss—her onetime partner and former lover—as he headed toward her desk. Over six feet tall on a solid frame, he had short salt and pepper hair and deep blue eyes. She thought he was handsome, but not as good looking as Maxwell. She suspected his wife would probably disagree.

  "Hey," he said casually.

  "Hey." She glanced over at Chung, who was talking on the phone at his desk, and back to Seymour.

  "Where are you on the dead woman?"

  "Her name is Yoshie Akiyama," Leila told him. "We're about to head over to her residence to see what we can learn about her life. Hopefully, we'll come away with some possible suspects in her death."

  Seymour twisted his lips. "Chung mentioned that she was a hula dancer."

  "Looks like it. I believe someone targeted her and made good on it, stabbing her to death after she finished dancing somewhere."

  "Like an angry spouse or boyfriend?" he asked.

  Leila shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe an obsessed fan. Who knows?"

  "Not the best way to start the week," Seymour muttered.

  "Yeah, tell me about it."

  "I know. You were supposed to have the day off."

  "I'll just have to reschedule it for another day," she told him, knowing that being on call practically 24/7 came with the territory—or whenever murder came calling.

  His head tilted thoughtfully. "I hope Maxwell is okay with that."

  Leila wondered if he really meant that as thoughts of their past affair flashed briefly through her mind. "He's fine with it," she said, knowing Maxwell had never complained about her erratic schedule, even if he had every right to. "Besides, I'll do my best to make it up to him," she added, as if to remove any doubt that her current relationship was solid.

  "I'm sure you will." Seymour grinned thinly. "Well, keep me posted on the hula dancer case."

  She managed a smile. "Count on it."

  After he walked away, Chung approached her. "Is Seymour already applying pressure for us to solve this one?"

  Leila looked up at him. "Isn't he always?"

  "I think being a lieutenant has gone to his head," Chung spat.

  "And his heart, too," she said, defending him. She truly believed that he was fully vested in the job and wanted to do his best to represent the department and assist the detectives in solving crimes.

  "Whatever," Chung said dismissively. "Anyway, the autopsy report probably won't be ready till tomorrow, according to the coroner herself. Not that we need it to know the victim was stabbed to death by some asshole."

  "Right, but the report will help fill in some important blanks," Leila pointed out, as if he didn't already know this. Still, it was painfully clear that the hula dancer was violently attacked by someone wielding a sharp knife. The question was whether or not this was an isolated incident or if it could become a frightening pattern if the killer wasn't apprehended soon. "Let's roll," she told her partner.

  * * *

  Renee Bradley wouldn't exactly say that being a reporter was in her blood. Never mind the fact that her father was a war correspondent. Or even that she had majored in journalism when she received her degree from the University of Hawaii at Manoa eight years ago. No, what really seemed to inspire her was reporting on crime stories in paradise. It was as if this was her calling to present the dark and sometimes deadly underbelly of what, on the surface, was a dreamlike place with plenty of palm trees, pristine white beaches, gorgeous tanned bodies, and a laid-back escape from big city life.

  Unfortunately, the truth was it wasn't always paradise. At least this was true on Maui, where she had lived for the past five years. As a journalist for the Aloha News, Crime Beat, it was her job to flush out the stories that scared the hell out of people—often for good reason.

  Murder was no holiday and when it reared its ugly head, she needed to be there to inform and keep the police honest in what they dispensed to the public. Having informants on the inside and in other relevant quarters on Maui went a long way in keeping her in the loop.

  Such was the case when she got a call from morgue worker Tabitha Cusack, a friend who she liked to have tequila shots with when they got together.

  "Thought you'd like a head's up on a stiff that just came in," Tabitha said.

  "I'm listening," Renee said from her desk, flipping her long blonde hair to one side.

  "Hawaiian female, late twenties. Someone cut her up really bad."

  "That's terrible." Renee recoiled at the thought. "Got a name?"

  "Nope. They're keeping that under wraps pending notification of next of kin."

  It was worth a try, Renee thought. What else could she learn about the victim that might spark public interest? "Where was she found?"

  "Some field in Kihei."

  "Who found her?" Sometimes there could be a story there, Renee knew.

  "A guy walking his dog."

  Bo-ring, she thought. "Give me something juicy."

  "Well, there is one thing..." Tabitha said, keeping her in suspense. "I did overhear one of the detectives who showed up say that the victim was a hula dancer."

  Renee reacted. "Seriously?"

  "Yeah, I guess."

  That was certainly a twist that would likely capture the fancy of her audience in a morbid way. Who wouldn't want to hear all about a hula girl being stabbed to death by...anyone? She pondered the notion and told her friend: "Mahalo!"

  * * *

  The address they had for Yoshie Akiyama was a small, single story home on Kapela Place in Kahului. Located in Central Maui between Haleakala and the mountains of West Maui, it was home to the Kahului Airport, Kahului Harbor, and a wildlife sanctuary, and not too far from the 'Iao Valley State Park. There was a brown Mitsubishi Mirage parked in the driveway near a couple of large palm trees.

  Notifying the next of kin was always one of the hardest parts of the job for Leila. But it was something that had to be done in person out of respect to the dead and the living.

  Chung knocked on the door. After a moment or two, it opened and a twentysomething, slender, dark-haired woman of mixed descent stood there. "Can I help you?"

  "I'm Detective Kahana and this is Detective Chung," Leila said. "And you are—?"

  "Chieko Ohata."

  "Do you mind if we come in, Chieko?"

  "Is this about Yoshie...?"

  "Yes," Leila admitted. "Are you related?"

 
"I'm her housemate." Chieko looked concerned, but allowed them through the door. Once inside, she asked bluntly: "Did something happen to her—?"

  Leila glanced at Chung before saying: "I'm afraid Ms. Akiyama is dead."

  Chieko's eyes widened. "What—? How?"

  "She was murdered sometime last night," Chung told her.

  Chieko sucked in a deep breath and looked like she was going to collapse with grief. Chung stood ready to catch her.

  Leila understood the utter disbelief of the moment, but still had to see this through, as she took a sweeping look at the contemporary furnishings in the room before turning to the housemate. "We need to notify her next of kin."

  Chieko nodded. "Her mother, Hifumi Akiyama, lives on the Big Island."

  Leila gulped. Her mother lived there too. She could only imagine if someone were to deliver such devastating news to her. "Where did Yoshie work?"

  Chieko wiped away tears with the back of her hand. "She worked for the Aloha Hula Dance Company as a dancer."

  "Was she on a job last night?" Leila asked, though the victim's discarded costume spoke for itself.

  "Yes, but I don't know where. She worked at lots of places and for different clients all over the island."

  Leila sighed, knowing that meant there were a lot of potential suspects. "Did Yoshie have a car?"

  Chieko nodded. "Yes, a Subaru Crosstrek."

  Leila took note of that, wanting to locate the vehicle for any evidence it might yield.

  "Did Ms. Akiyama have any enemies that you know of?" Chung asked.

  Chieko paused. "Her ex-boyfriend, Paul Hailey. He was abusive and a drug user. Yoshie was scared to death of him and even took out a restraining order against him. He wasn't very happy about it."

  Leila knew that an embittered ex was quite capable of committing cold-blooded murder, especially if they were under the influence of drugs. Had this one delivered the ultimate payback? "Where can we find him?"