Murder of the Hula Dancers Read online

  Chieko told them and said solemnly: "I just can't believe Yoshie is dead."

  "I'm very sorry for your loss," Leila told her, before saying: "We'll need you to identify the body."

  Chieko agreed and Leila felt they had made progress, even if it came at a high price for one woman with the killer still at large.

  * * *

  Jonny Chung was behind the wheel as they headed toward the condominium owned by Paul Hailey. He wondered if this asshole druggie who abused his girlfriend went one step further in slicing her up fatally. If so, he would get what was coming to him. In the pen, they didn't take too kindly to men who beat up women.

  Chung's thoughts turned to the waitress he was bedding off and on these days. She was hot and hot tempered. But he would never lay a finger on her, except when she wanted his fingers all over her, which was often. He had no idea where things were headed between them and didn't even want to hazard a guess. For him, it was the here and now that counted and he knew how to make the most of it—personally and professionally.

  He mused about his days when he was with the vice division. Admittedly, he missed the good old days when they got knee deep in narcotics, gambling, and prostitution cases—solving most of them and putting the criminals away. But they were usually quickly replaced by others who wanted to keep the illegal operations going.

  That turned out to work in his favor, as he pocketed some money on the side to look the other way, or even the same way if it served his purposes. He continued to get his share to this day, figuring it was only fair to help build up his retirement fund, since his pay as a cop wasn't nearly enough to count on to maintain his current lifestyle or his future once he turned in his badge and gun for good.

  Chung glanced over at Leila, who was caught up in her own thoughts. Unlike her, he didn't have a rich lover to make his life easy, should he choose to walk away from police work. It was up to him to do whatever was needed to keep the fires burning so they didn't get snuffed out along the way.

  "So do you think we're looking at an intimate homicide borne out of domestic violence and revenge?" Leila asked him.

  "That's as good a place as any to start," Chung responded, aware that many homicides were perpetrated by intimates or family members, as opposed to strangers. "We'll see what Hailey has to say about it."

  "Yeah, I can hardly wait," she said dryly. "That said, I can't help but think the hula dancing somehow figured into Yoshie's death, considering the killer removed her costume almost as if it was a hindrance to murder. It's also possible the killer was lying in wait for her."

  "Which could point directly at Hailey as our culprit," argued Chung. "Think about it. He could have resented her working the booty, breasts, and other body parts to make other men hot and bothered, and decided enough was enough. It's the old, 'if I can't have her, nobody can' crap."

  Leila sighed. "That wouldn't surprise me. But, then again, nothing surprises me in this business. You never know where a murder will lead."

  "Yeah, I can't argue with you there." Chung might have done so anyway, if only for effect, had he not reached his destination.

  The building was on Honoapiilani Road in Napili, an area on the northwest side of Maui. They knocked on the door of Unit 374.

  There was no answer.

  Chung knocked again, only harder, hurting his knuckles. Still nothing.

  "Doesn't look like he's home," Leila muttered with disappointment.

  Chung was not happy about it either. He considered that maybe Hailey was in there and, knowing they would figure it out soon enough, had taken his own life. But murder-suicides usually took place together. Maybe not this time.

  "Think he's on the run?" Chung asked.

  "It's possible. If so, he won't get very far," she said confidently, "assuming he didn't leave the island this morning."

  Chung took out his card and jotted a note on the back stating that Hailey needed to get in touch with them as soon as he received it. This, of course, was in the event that he simply wasn't home and had nothing to hide.

  Someone had a very good reason to hide, Chung thought, making that person a real danger on the island till they were apprehended. He slid the card under the door and hoped, for his sake, that Hailey responded accordingly.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Aloha Hula Dance Company was located on Kupuohi Street in Lahaina. Formerly the capital of the Kingdom of Hawaii and an important whaling village, Lahaina, which meant "cruel sun," was West Maui's largest census-designated place and one of the island's most popular tourist attractions with an abundance of art galleries, restaurants, and shops, along with a thriving nightlife.

  Leila and Chung entered the premises that had several ceiling fans in motion and spotted a number people moving about in and out of costume. They sidestepped the dancers and approached the young, dark-haired receptionist.

  "Aloha," she said cheerfully. "May I help you?"

  Leila flashed her identification and said simultaneously: "Detective Kahana, Maui PD. This is Detective Chung. We need to speak to someone regarding one of your hula girls, Yoshie Akiyama."

  "You should talk to our director, Julia Kealoha." She got on the phone, said a few words, and then hung up, facing the detectives. "Okay, just go right through those doors over there and she'll be waiting for you."

  "Mahalo," Leila said, and headed that way. She glanced at her partner, who was ogling some shapely females. "Keep your focus, Chung. We're not here to fulfill your fantasies."

  He chuckled. "It's cool. There's no harm in a guy looking."

  Leila imagined that his way of looking could turn into trouble. Something neither of them needed as long as there was a homicide to solve.

  They went through double doors, which led down a hall and toward a larger room with hula and fire knife dancers practicing their craft. Leila took note of the fire dancers, in particular, amazed at their ability to play with fire and sharp knives at the same time.

  An attractive, dark-skinned, tall, slender woman with curly brunette hair approached them from an office on the opposite side. "Aloha, I'm Julia Kealoha," she said. Leila and Chung identified themselves before Julia said: "You wanted to talk to me about Yoshie?"

  Leila regarded her and said straightforwardly: "I'm sorry to inform you that Ms. Akiyama was killed last night."

  "Oh, no..." Julia reacted, putting a hand to her mouth. "How?"

  "Someone stabbed her to death," Leila answered, knowing the stark reality was already public knowledge for the media to get hold of and run with.

  "Stabbed—" The word seemed stuck in Julia's throat.

  "Yes, and we need your help to try to figure out what happened," Chung told her.

  She seemed to recover somewhat and said: "Let's go into my office..."

  They followed her inside the small, neat space with a window, desk, table, and three chairs. Leila imagined Yoshie being in there yesterday, not realizing she would never see it or the dance company again.

  "Do you want to sit down?" Julia asked.

  Leila declined and was surprised to see Chung take her up on the offer. "We need to know what job Yoshie was sent out on last night and at what time," Leila said.

  "Of course." Julia sat at her desk and looked at the computer screen. "Our dancers work a variety of jobs and often come and go. Let' s see... Yoshie was sent to a bachelor party that was held at the Moku Club on Kaukahi Street in Wailea."

  "What time was the party?" asked Chung.

  "Seven o'clock."

  "Did anyone accompany her?" he asked.

  "No, they asked for one hula dancer."

  "Is that normal?" Leila asked curiously, as she pictured more than one dancer, perhaps accompanied by musicians, as part of the experience.

  "Yes, it is," Julia answered. "People seeking our services have various needs and budgets. In this case, they wanted a hula dancer to perform some of our traditional dances to the groom-to-be, and Yoshie took her own music."

  "Do you happen to know how
many people were at this bachelor party?" asked Leila.

  "I have no idea," she said. "But I do have the name of the person who arranged and paid for Yoshie's appearance. It was Chuck Swain, the best man of the groom, Vance Takahashi."

  Leila took down this information. "Was Yoshie required to check back in with you when she finished?"

  Julia sighed. "Our dancers are free agents. We help facilitate jobs for a commission. They aren't required to check in with us during a performance, but we do encourage them to let us know how things are going and, of course, if they run into any problems—"

  "Ms. Akiyama ran into a very big problem," Chung said brusquely, "one that cost your hula dancer her life. Did she have any enemies that you know of?"

  Julia batted her eyes thoughtfully. "Not around here. Yoshie got along with everyone and was well-liked." Her voice broke. "I just can't believe someone would kill her...and that way—"

  Leila truly felt for her, as she seemed genuinely shaken, which was to be expected after learning of such a tragedy. But that still didn't change the fact that Yoshie Akiyama was murdered by someone who, judging by the viciousness of the attack, had some sort of beef against her.

  Question was: did she make it to the restaurant to entertain and was accosted after the fact? Or had her killer intercepted her before that point? Either way, Leila was determined to get to the bottom of it.

  "We'll do everything we can to see that justice is done in this case," she told the director. Leila nodded at Chung, indicating they were done there. After he stood up, she added: "Thanks for talking with us. If we need anything more..."

  "I'll do whatever I can to help," Julia assured her, as they walked out into the hallway.

  While Chung had a few parting words with the director, Leila watched some fire dancers practicing their craft. The way they handled the knives wrapped in towels that were aflame, twirling, tossing, and catching them, while dancing to Polynesian music, was nothing short of astonishing.

  Leila wondered if any of the fire knife performers might have found a different use for a knife in going after Yoshie, making sure she didn't live to talk about it.

  * * *

  Renee looked around the private room at the Moku Club, where hula dancer Yoshie Akiyama had put on a show last night at a bachelor party, after which she was murdered. She was standing in the center of the room next to the club manager, Art Murray. He had been working last night when Yoshie came in fully dressed for a hula show.

  "How many people were at the party?" Renee asked the fortysomething man who was shorter than her.

  "I'd say three or four, including the groom."

  "Were they locals?"

  "Yeah, I think so," Art said. "They come in here all the time."

  Good, Renee mused. That would make it easier to track them down. "So did any or all of them follow the hula dancer when she left? Or leave with her?" She could imagine that some drunken, sexually charged men might have decided to mix her business with their own reckless pleasure, and things could have gotten out of hand in a deadly way.

  Art frowned. "I can't be sure, but I think the lady left by herself."

  "Wouldn't your video surveillance show if she was alone when she left the restaurant?"

  "Perhaps," Art said. "It's being reviewed even as we speak, on behalf of the authorities."

  She had expected the police to be out in front on this, leaving her to speculate at the moment.

  "What about a restaurant patron who wasn't at the party?" she asked. "Were you aware of anyone who seemed to take a personal interest in Yoshie when she came and left?"

  He seemed to think about it for a moment or two before responding. "People—especially vacationers—always look when a costumed, pretty hula girl is around. However, I didn't get the impression that someone was after her or went after her from here."

  Renee wondered if he was more interested in protecting the reputation of the Moku Club than helping to identify a killer. "I hope so," she warned him. "Bad publicity is one thing, but being a hangout for a brutal killer and keeping quiet about it is definitely a no-no that I'm sure the police wouldn't take too kindly to."

  Art stiffened. "Nice try, Ms. Bradley, but you can't start a fire where there are no sparks. I'm deeply sorry about what happened to Ms. Akiyama. But to suggest that her death had anything to do with this restaurant is way off base."

  Renee allowed that she may have gone a bit overboard in trying to get more information from him. It was also possible that Yoshie's killer was no stranger to the club and could have been hiding in plain view. This was something the police would want to know.

  And she did, too.

  * * *

  Lieutenant Blake Seymour sat at his desk, taking a cursory look at the current and cold cases his unit was investigating. They ran the gamut, from homicides involving domestic violence, drug dealing, break-ins and holdups turned deadly, mental illness, to random murders. Most of the investigations resulted in an arrest, trial, and conviction.

  That brought some peace of mind to loved ones left behind, but there remained a lingering belief that the crime could somehow have been prevented, sparing grief and saving lives. If only it were that simple. At forty-seven, Seymour had been around long enough to know that murders happened, even in paradise, and there was no waving a magic wand to change that. Not when guns and knives were readily available for anyone intent on committing murder—even if it meant losing their freedom in the process.

  He glanced at the information they had so far on the hula dancer. Yoshie Akiyama. Twenty-seven. Born in Hawaii. Not bad on the eyes. It seemed like she had her whole life in front of her. Then, just like that, it was over for good.

  It made him wonder how he would deal with it if the person on the slab at the morgue had been his nine-year-old daughter, Akela, at any age. Or, for that matter, his wife, Mele. They had adopted Akela when she was less than a month old and it was their joint love for that little girl that kept them together, even though he had done more than enough to tear them apart.

  It was up to him to keep Akela from sharing the same fate as Yoshie Akiyama, even if Seymour knew damned well that there were certain things that were beyond his control, especially when Akela reached adulthood and was no longer under his protection. But, at the very least, he wanted to see the hula girl's killer off the streets, eliminating the threat he posed to potentially any female on Maui whose path he crossed.

  Seymour had every reason to believe that Leila and Chung would find the killer, no matter what direction the case took them. In truth, he had more faith in Leila, if only because she had worked homicide longer and meant business with every investigation, as though her life depended on it. The fact that he and she were once lovers and ex-partners had nothing to do with it.

  At least he kept telling himself that he could separate old feelings and familiarity in doing what was best for the Homicide Unit and the detectives under his command. He had no reason to feel differently.

  But he had every reason to want Leila and Chung to put their best feet forward as a team to solve the murder of Yoshie Akiyama.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Leila sat across the table from Chuck Swain in the interrogation room. She sized up the thirtysomething, sturdily built man with short, choppy dark hair and blue eyes, who had orchestrated the bachelor party at the Moku Club for Vance Takahashi. Swain was wearing a print shirt and jeans. She pictured him with a long knife, puncturing Yoshie's body left and right.

  "Mahalo for coming in," she told him routinely.

  "They didn't give me much choice," he said tartly. "Mind telling me what this is all about?"

  "Not at all." She looked him in the eye. "It's about Yoshie Akiyama, the young woman you hired as a hula dancer last night."

  He cocked a brow. "What about her?"

  "Someone stabbed her to death after she left the club," Leila said. It had been confirmed by the manager and a hostess that Yoshie had, in fact, successfully reached her destination. This
meant that all of the bachelor party attendees had to be considered suspects, until they were eliminated by one means or another.

  Swain's eyes popped wide. "Seriously?"

  Leila pursed her lips. "Yes, Ms. Akiyama has been murdered. And you and your friends were the last known people to see her alive."

  He frowned. "So wait...you actually think one of us had something to do with her death?"

  She certainly couldn't rule out the victim's ex-boyfriend. But, until they heard from him, there were still other suspects, such as the man before her. "Unless you can convince me otherwise," she made clear, "that's exactly what I'm thinking."

  "We didn't kill her," Swain insisted. "She left the club on her own two feet."

  Leila expected to verify this soon enough, hopefully with the help of video surveillance analysis. Until such time, she wouldn't rule out anything or anyone.

  She peered at him. "Why don't you tell me what went on in that room after Ms. Akiyama arrived?"

  "Just what you'd expect," he said. "She did some hula dancing, flirted a little, we flirted back a little, and then she left."

  "About what time was that?"

  "I don't know, maybe eight-thirty, or so."

  Leila made a mental note of that. "Did anyone walk her to her car as a courtesy?" she wondered. Or perhaps they had something else in mind.

  Swain pondered this. "Yeah, Vance did," he recalled. "As the guest of honor, he was wasted. He walked her out and was back in five minutes, just in time for a stripper we hired to keep things lively."

  Leila imagined that it only took a few seconds to stab someone to death, stuff her in a trunk, and come back later to dispose of the body. Did Vance Takahashi go down that dark path, whether it was planned or not?

  "And none of the other members of your party went outside with Ms. Akiyama?" she pressed the suspect.

  Swain scratched his pate. "Not that I can recall. I know I didn't leave the room for maybe an hour after she was gone."

  Leila wasn't sure just how much of his recall she could trust, if any. "What was the name of the stripper?"